Nightjar

by Gabbo De la Parra

  Selleck stopped them in front of several enclosures and waved his hand as a merchant offering his goodies. “King Adder wants you to choose a gryphon for your personal use.”

  “What?”

  “He told me you haven’t ridden a gryphon, but I don’t think they are that different from a vulture, riding-wise.”

  “Does any of the other Kept have their own gryphon?” Bracken didn’t want a gryphon; he was still mourning the loss of Silvercall. He had been training a vulhur as a secondary mount, but a gryphon was out of the question.

  “No, King Bracken. Only you would have one.”

  “Is this an order?”

  Puzzlement was written all over the red-haired man. “I-I don’t think it was. It’s a gift,” he stuttered.

  It was in bad taste to refuse a gift, but this would cause more trouble than Bracken needed. He would have to say yes now and speak to Adder about it in the first opportunity. “I just wanted to be sure,” he offered nonchalantly. “Any of these?” They were facing five gryphons in various colors.

  “Yes. These are trained but don’t have a master yet, so any could adapt to you easily.”

  Bracken went for the darkest one instead of the one that resembled Silvercall the most. That way if he ended up stuck with the beast it would not be a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

  Many hours later, Bracken returned to the Kept Hall, exhilarated and not liking himself much. He had such a great time learning to ride “his” gryphon, he felt ashamed and beyond guilty.

  “Hey, Lakon, changing colors? Now that the Master of Gryphons has been riding you, you think it is cute to forget your vulture. You disgust me,” yelled Rho from their usual end of the table, waving a chicken leg at Bracken. The other War Trophies cackled as if the idiot had just delivered the punch line of a joke instead of an insult.

  Making his way to the smorgasbord, Bracken kept a straight face. He filled his plate and sat at the head of the opposite end, not in a side of the end as usual. He started eating, his eyes unyielding over the War Trophies.

  The seven Offerings moved from the middle of the table and surrounded Bracken. At his left Eta spoke, “Aren’t you going to say anything, King Bracken?”

  “One does not answer to the bark of dogs, especially if they are behind a fence.”

  “Nice,” said Xi at Bracken’s right. The other Offerings snorted and guffawed happily.

  Bracken’s end of the table finished their meal in animated conversation, while the other end seemed the gathering of a storm with many growls for thunder. They were given the concoction that slowed their bowel movements to a minimum for twelve hours. Then, they went with assistants to be prepared for the King’s selection of the night. This was done to all of them because it was unknown who the King would choose until Selleck appeared at the door. Bracken had heard the War Trophies complaining about it. The King never summoned anyone, and they were submitted to this handling unnecessarily. He also heard that now that Adder sent for Bracken every night he should be the only one going through the process.

  Adder had given Selleck instructions to let Bracken do his preparations on his own after the childish fit he had thrown the first night. Bracken wasn’t proud of his reaction, but being caught unawares had been the part that pissed him off the most.

  Bracken prepared himself silently under the vigilant gaze of the servants that weren’t touching him but needed to be there to assure that he didn’t cheat; if Bracken did a number on the King because they weren’t paying attention that would be all for them. Or so they thought.

  When all the Kept were ready, they lounged amid colorful pillows and rugs, listening to the entertainment of the evening. The musicians from Doriar were still a bit rattled by the flight to Gryphonire but quickly composed themselves. The Kept were not permitted to drink spirits until after one had been chosen for the night. The rest could get drunk and do whatever they wanted, even indulge in sexual activities among themselves. If this happened (Bracken couldn’t be sure; he had never stayed for the night with the rest), he was sure the two bands never intermingled sexually, unless it was some kind of prank on each other.

  Unsure if Adder was going to summon him tonight, Bracken couldn’t appreciate the antics of the Offerings as they danced and pranced with the music. This time he was truly hoping to be called so he could talk to Adder about the gryphon.

  Yes. Keep telling yourself it’s because of the gift.

  Sometimes Bracken hated his consciousness vehemently. Did he want to think about the soft caresses and the languid kisses and Adder’s mouth on his cock? No. He didn’t. But no other lover had ever taken the time to pleasure Bracken beyond penetration and using Bracken to find their pleasure. He could count with his fingers (without using all) the few that had sucked his cock in the middle of the fracas.

  The thing was, after Bracken’s arrival at Gryphonire, Adder had shown him a side of pleasure he didn’t know existed.

  Disconcerting couldn’t begin to describe the actions of the King of Munus.

  Beyond the usual time for Selleck’s appearance, the Kept grumbled and paced because they wanted their drinks. Bracken ruminated and worried, thinking he had served his purpose; he surmised the gryphon was some ridiculous parting gift.

  Another hour passed before Selleck entered the Kept Hall with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He stopped before them, his hands behind his back and balancing on the balls of his feet. “Good evening, Kept. The King has summoned… Eta.”

  Twelve men looked at Bracken, all surprised for an instant. Then, the expressions changed according to the group. The Offerings were confused but soon enough started to elbow Eta, who stared at Bracken with a big apology in his green eyes. The War Trophies smirked and elbowed each other for a completely different reason. “About time, we were parched here,” said Mu throwing his arms around Nu and Rho, arching an eyebrow in Bracken’s direction.

  Bracken didn’t say anything, just kept his face blank. He’d find another way to talk to Adder. This wasn’t the end of the world.

  Selleck cleared his throat. “The King also wants to see King Bracken.”

  ****

  Chapter Six

  Unforgiveable

  “Oh, Nightjar, you can be so silly.”

  They were in bed. Adder had his leg over Nightjar’s groin and his head propped on his elbow.

  “What else should I have thought?”

  “I promise I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t agree with.” Adder smiled.

  “It didn’t seem like you were giving Eta an option.”

  “He could have said no.”

  “I know Renan is your best friend and Great Counselor. But letting Eta go with him doesn’t feel right.”

  “Today is Renan’s birthday, and I asked him what he wanted. He said Eta. I told him if Eta refused there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “And if he had requested me?”

  Adder didn’t need to think about his response twice. “I would have punched him in the face.”

  Nightjar grimaced. “A simple ‘no’ would have been sufficient.”

  “Not for me. Renan should know better.”

  “Does he know something I don’t?”

  “Did you like your gift?” Adder changed the topic unabashedly. There were a lot of things he still couldn’t answer to himself, let alone to Nightjar. Renan had told him to be careful around Nightjar, but the more Adder tried to avoid getting attached to the vulture rider the more he failed.

  With narrowed eyes, Nightjar murmured, “I appreciate it, but I don’t want it.”

  “Why not?” Adder kissed his Nightjar softly. “Selleck and the trainer said you had a great time learning to ride it.”

  “That I did. But you are singling me out. It will fester in the Kept Hall.”

  “There’s no reason for that. None of them was a flying rider. Rho was a narwhal rider from Gikid and Nu a rider of orcas from Busar. The others are from land kingdoms so I guess they can ri
de horses and the big felines.”

  “They can learn,” Nightjar huffed.

  “Don’t be absurd. Flying riders are born, not taught, and you know that.”

  Nightjar nodded, but he seemed unconvinced.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Adder said quietly, caressing Nightjar’s cheek. “The day after tomorrow we’ll go for a ride together.”

  Leaning onto the touch, Nightjar closed his eyes. “I’ll look forward to it.” When he opened them, there was something Adder had never seen before. “Please let me take care of you tonight.”

  A lump formed in Adder’s throat. “Why?”

  “I’ve never been a selfish person, my King. I think it’s time I return all the pleasure you have given me. It’s my duty.” Nightjar said these things as he moved Adder to lie on his back by slowly pushing him toward that position. “You have been so good to me, teaching me things I didn’t know were possible between men.”

  His Nightjar spoke of duty as he straddled Adder, but that flame in his eyes shone from a different place. Adder wanted to give more to this man, but perhaps it was time to accept some pleasure of his own. “Thanks.”

  Nightjar nodded and brushed his lips over Adder’s. “Never thank me for something you deserve.” He kissed Adder thoroughly then, his tongue roaming, conquering, disturbing every cell of Adder’s body.

  Should he stay still and let Nightjar continue? Adder couldn’t. The urge to touch and feel Nightjar had grown steadily every night. He was at a point where the nightly hours weren’t enough to be around the Lakon. Only his royal duties were keeping him from spending entire days worshiping the vulture rider. His hands found Nightjar’s shoulders and surfed over hard muscles.

  Humming into Adder’s mouth, Nightjar broke the kiss and lapped Adder’s neck, his tongue going lower, leaving fire and goose bumps in its wake. He circled one nipple, then the other, making Adder moan and pull Nightjar’s salt-and-pepper hair, asking for a deeper connection. His wish was granted, and as Adder’s nipples became pebbles, Nightjar left them at the mercy of the mischievous breeze playing within the chamber. The cold, playful whisper over the sensitive nubs forced Adder to shiver.

  Fingers and lips barely grazed Adder’s chest and abdomen in a downward motion designed to make him lose control and ache. A million years later when he had closed his eyes to rein in the whipping sensations biting him, he felt Nightjar nuzzling his throbbing cock. It was an evil, dragging move, along with powerful inhaling that had Adder moaning incoherently.

  Soon, but not soon enough, wet fire engulfed all his hardness. Teeth skillfully scratched his shaft. Next, came a maddening mixture of suction and bobbing until Nightjar’s throat closed around his cock head. Adder boiled, both hands over Nightjar’s wild mane, not pushing, just relishing the silky texture, adding more stimulation to his already overwhelmed brain.

  Adder recognized the surge of his climax as he felt his entire being contracting toward the center of so much pleasure. Nightjar’s saliva ran over Adder’s testicles, and he snapped, yanking his cock from the glorious heat and turning them both around. Nightjar fell on his back, and Adder aimed at his mouth as rope after rope of thick semen escaped him. Amid his own spasms, Adder felt Nightjar’s own spunk land on the back of his thigh and calf, and they both laughed, joyous and sated.

  As the laughter subsided, Adder licked his mess from Nightjar’s cheeks and chin. To his utter contentment, the Lakon pulled him in for a resounding kiss, sharing his essence with a groan that was at once desperate and satisfied.

  “You taste so sweet,” Nightjar offered, a massive grin brightening his handsome face. “Hope I don’t need to wait another nine days to savor you again.”

  “That can be arranged.” Adder winked.

  ****

  Morning came, and Adder sent Nightjar to the Kept Hall reluctantly. They said good-bye by the door with a soft, languid kiss; something they had never done before. Adder realized the change in their connection after the wonderful night. He watched Nightjar go with what he was sure was the sappiest grin in the world, but he didn’t care; he felt goofy and happy and absolutely rejuvenated.

  An hour later, Adder was about to climb onto Adroit when Selleck came into the courtyard, yelling, “My King, something horrible has happened.” He looked wild and afraid.

  Adder grabbed him by the arms and shook him. “What? What happened?”

  “King Bracken has been stabbed.”

  All the light of the sunny morning was swallowed by sudden cruel darkness. Adder felt sick and close to faint, but he couldn’t do that, he had to go to his Nightjar.

  “Where?”

  “The Kept Hall. I left the healers with him.”

  Adder ran. Never in his life had he loathed the length and expanse of Gryphonire as he did today. He kicked the door of the Kept Hall, and the dreadful calm of a lost situation hit him as he registered his surroundings. The healers worked frantically, trying to stop the bleeding, while palace guards held off the bewildered Kept.

  “My King, we’re losing him,” one of the healers said in a broken voice, shaking his head.

  Adder grabbed Selleck, who had just stopped beside him, heaving. “Find Timir now and send him to my chambers.” Selleck’s eyes were plates for a heartbeat then he nodded and took off. Adder turned to the healers. “Pick him up. Guards, help them!” All had puzzled faces but obeyed immediately. He guided them to his quarters. The moment they deposited Nightjar on Adder’s bed he ordered everyone out of the room. The healers pleaded with him, but he pushed all out.

  “Don’t you die on me now, Nightjar. You hear me?” Adder pushed hair off the pale forehead. Blood was drenching the bed.

  Timir entered with Selleck. “My King.” He looked at Nightjar somberly.

  “Out, Selleck, out!”

  Selleck scurried away. Adder turned to Timir. “Alchemist, do The Rite now!”

  “King Adder, that’s just…”

  “Do. The. Fucking. Rite.”

  “This will shorten your life, my King!”

  “Do I look like I give a fuck about that?!”

  Nightjar gasped for air and groaned.

  “NOW!”

  “All right, all right.” Timir made a placating gesture with both hands. “Give me your dagger.”

  Adder presented it to the alchemist. Holding it with his left hand, Timir started to swing it in a circular upward motion, murmuring incantations in a language unknown to Adder. The nightjars in the adjacent room began to call desperately; moans and sighs inundated the room. It seemed as if the light entering through the windows was moving deliberately toward the tip of the dagger.

  “Remove the tunic or rip it. I need to see the wounds,” Timir ordered firmly.

  Serenity washed over Adder, and he got rid of the tunic with a calmness he had only felt on the battlefield amid the clank of metal and the roar of fighting men. Soon Bracken, no, Nightjar was naked and almost empty of blood.

  “Give me your left hand.”

  Adder gave his left hand as if it belonged to somebody else.

  Timir cut. “Blood of the King, a life for a life. By the blessing of Erin and Apheilon save this life with the blood of the King.” He repeated these words over and over as blood dripped over the wounds. A hissing sound and steam rose with every slowly landing drop.

  The nightjars called wildly in the background. It was daylight; they had never called during daylight.

  Lightheaded, Adder saw how the wounds were healing, closing on their own like the shrinking petals of a flower ready to sleep. Coloring returned to Nightjar, and soon he looked just as he had earlier that day, placidly sleeping before Adder awoken him. The only proof of the nightmare was the blood on the bed and Adder’s swirling vision.

  Timir let go of Adder’s hand.

  Adder looked at his palm and saw his own wound closing and disappearing. The cut had been over his Life Line. It had lost a third of its length.

  Timir chanted again. Perhaps releasing the power he h
ad conjured into Adder’s dagger. The light returned to its rightful place outside the windows. “You need to sit, my King. I’ll go and prepare you some nice restorative for later.”

  “You do that. I have business to attend.”

  The door to the chambers opened with a bang. It was Renan. “What the hell happened?”

  Adder waved a hand dismissively but didn’t answer. He needed all his strength for what he had to do next.

  “The worst is over, Great Counselor,” Timir offered.

  “Renan, please stay with Bracken.” Adder moved toward the door.

  “Where are you going? You look like you are about to keel over.” Renan tried to grab Adder, but Adder shrugged him away.

  “You stay here and guard him.” Adder reached the door and called, “Guards!” Two guards came running to him. He put his arms around their shoulders. “Take me to the Kept Hall.”

  By the time they reached the hall, Adder almost felt like himself again. He thanked the guards and told them to bring the Kept. He wasn’t completely ready to stand by himself so he leaned on the edge of the long darkwood table where the Kept ate.

  Relief turned into anger as the twelve men waited before him minutes later. Adder took a deep breath and focused on being a king and not an overwhelmed lover. “Who did this? I promise the culprit a swift death if he speaks on his own.” He looked at each silently. “If someone else has to point him out, I will make him suffer.” Remembering the wounds’ pattern, Adder realized that it must have been more than one person because the stabs were on both flanks. He arched an eyebrow. “Nothing?” He grasped his chin and said softly, “I might reconsider my offer and kill all of you just to be done with this.”

  No man moved a muscle, but Adder saw that the Offerings were ready to crumble.

  “Eta, tell me what happened!” Adder snapped at the green-eyed Offering.

  The young man hesitated. He was naturally pale, but now he looked like a ghost. “Well, we were moving things from that corner over there to have a game of ball after breakfast…”

  Adder tsked. “Give me the short version.”