by Kell Amber
“I would be surprised if they weren’t in the triple digits, but apparently they weren’t worthy if you rejected them. I’m not one of your many wide-eyed fans, I’m the one who will keep you.” Some people wanted a wandmaker chained to their side like a performing pet. Silvan didn’t want the wandmaker because of his skills. He wanted Cebrus because he couldn’t live without him.
Cebrus tapped his chin. “You are at least the most persistent person I’ve run across without being an ass.”
“I have a very nice one, and if you get naked, I can show you.” Silvan itched to strip Cebrus naked and reveal the sleek body buried beneath too much clothing.
Cebrus snorted. “Oh, that was a horrible line.”
Silvan nodded and pulled Cebrus into his arms. “I am a horrible, horrible man. Now get naked and let me show you how badly I want you.”
He kissed Cebrus, unwilling to let this lack of intimate contact continue. The brush of their lips together sent shivers down Silvan’s spine. Need raced through him faster than a stampede of stallions. He’d never had anyone spur him to passion with one kiss before. Keeping Cebrus jumped to the top of his list of things to accomplish in life, right next to becoming king after his father died. Now he had another purpose to assist Cebrus in his quest. The faster they were done, the quicker they could come back to the palace and begin their life together.
Even if they trekked all across the world, there were no guarantees they’d find Cebrus’s mythical tree. However, the quest would give him valuable time to learn more about his mate and figure a way to persuade Cebrus to be happy with their bond. He needed to get the stubborn man to fall in love with him.
Silvan ran his hand beneath Cebrus’s shirt. He sighed at the warm skin beneath his fingertips. Unlike the hard muscled bodies of a fellow knight, Cebrus had a leaner, smoother form, as if he were created for pleasure between the sheets instead of on the battlefield. The lack of hair against his fingers continued Silvan’s journey of pleasurable discoveries. He didn’t need any more battle brothers to heat his sheets with nights of hard passion, now he needed someone to permanently warm up his life. The gods couldn’t have gift wrapped a better man to share his future.
A moan vibrated his lips. Pleased, Silvan lapped at Cebrus’s mouth, trying to lure the sound out again. Tightening his grip, Silvan rubbed his body against his mate’s slighter frame. He sought more sounds from Cebrus, more signs that he craved Silvan with the same passion Silvan needed Cebrus.
Silvan shoved the straps off of Cebrus’s shoulders. His pack hit the ground with a loud thud.
Cebrus pulled away. “You better not have snapped any of my wands,” Cebrus scolded. However, his tone didn’t hold the annoyance his words implied. Instead his eyes flared with excitement, and when he licked his lips, Silvan almost came at the sight of the enticing trail of wetness he left behind.
“If I did, I promise to make it up to you.” Silvan yanked off Cebrus’s shirt. Sharp shards of need knifed through him at the sight of Cebrus’s smooth hairless skin. In the past, he’d always liked his men hairy, muscled, and looking like warriors. He didn’t know when his tastes had changed, but he knew what he wanted now. Yanking Cebrus closer, he bit down on Cebrus’s shoulder, leaving a satisfying mark of ownership on the length of bare skin.
Cebrus gave a soft grunt of need that made Silvan want to throw the man on the bed and tear off the rest of Cebrus’s clothes. He forced his grip to relax and keep the kisses slow and soft as he traced a path back up his new lover’s neck. He refused to rush. This moment would set the standard for their future relationship. If he ruined the passionate moment now, he might not get another chance.
Soft moans filled the room, ratcheting Silvan’s need even higher. Damn, Cebrus twisted him into knots. The hard, tight kind there was no hope of ever untangling.
“Bed.” He barely got the words out of his mouth before Cebrus pulled out of his hold and crossed the room to throw himself on top of the mattress.
Silvan yanked off his boots, tossing them to the floor, uncaring of their location. His fingers shook as he watched Cebrus sit up to pull off his own boots and strip to nothing, baring his lean-muscled body for Silvan’s pleasure. The musky smell of Cebrus’s desire lured Silvan closer. He climbed onto the bed, crawling between Cebrus’s legs.
“Oh, you are a wonder, wandmaker. I have every intention of making you mine.” Claiming, keeping, wrapping around his heart until Cebrus couldn’t imagine taking a breath without Silvan by his side.
“Then take me, my prince.” Cebrus’s shy smile snapped Silvan’s control.
“I intend to.” He lapped a path down Cebrus’s body from clavicle to groin. His mouth watered when he reached his ultimate goal. Cebrus’s erection rose to greet him. “You were created generously by a divine hand.”
“I’m glad you approve. Plan on doing anything with it?”
“So impatient.” Silvan didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his hand around the base of Cebrus’s cock before sucking on the tip.
The whimper he received boosted his ego. He lifted his mouth to speak. “Give me your seed. I want all of you.”
Tasting his lover would be the first step to becoming one with him. He didn’t wait for Cebrus to agree or disagree; he took away his lover’s option by sucking him down to the root and showing Cebrus what he’d learned from past experiences.
“Oh, fuck. You are really good at that.” Cebrus plunged his fingers into Silvan’s thick locks.
Silvan sucked harder. He allowed the hard grip to his hair and took pleasure in his lover’s needy gasps and desperate groans.
“I’m coming,” Cebrus said.
Sliding up to taste the hot liquid, Silvan moaned. The scent and flavor of his lover overwhelmed him. Soaking in Cebrus’s essence, Silvan’s orgasm caught him by surprise. After sucking out all the seed he could get from Cebrus, he opened his mouth and released the spent organ from his lips.
“I guess I should’ve stripped before I sucked you.” Silvan grinned.
Cebrus’s flushed cheeks made him want to devour his lover all over again.
A loud banging on the door disturbed his pleasant afterglow. He ignored it in favor of nipping Cebrus’s lower lip and pulling at the lush bit of skin between his teeth. Cebrus groaned when Silvan released him to stand up.
“You never removed your pants,” Cebrus said.
“Yeah.” Silvan winced at the sticky wetness inside. “I should take a bath. Want to join me?”
The hot springs under the castle allowed for a series of warm bathing pools. The royal family had their own private section. He’d love to take his lover to the waters some time and make love in the salty liquid. Maybe later. Right then he needed Cebrus too badly to take the time to go.
“Yes. I’d be happy to join you.” Cebrus’s smile lightened Silvan’s heart. He’d do anything to keep that smile on his lover’s face.
The banging occurred again. Silvan scowled at the door. Someone was about to lose a hand and was in danger of possible disembowelment.
“You should probably go see what’s going on,” Cebrus said. “Whoever it is might wake up the entire castle.”
It had gotten dark during their interlude, and the long day had Silvan longing for a spot in the bed beside Cebrus.
Another knock.
Silvan growled. Frustration had him stomping over to the door and ripping it open.
Jerril stood on the other side of the door, holding Silvan’s sword and shield. “I believe you requested these, Your Majesty.”
Silvan frowned at the knight. He’d grown up with Jerril. They’d trained together, fought together, and once had a quick tryst in the middle of a deserted barn together, but he’d never seen that look of fury in Jerril’s eyes before.
“Thank you. You can put them down over there.” He motioned toward his wardrobe where the rest of his armor was stacked. The faster Jerril left, the quicker he could go back to Cebrus.
Jerril marched into Silvan’s suite and
propped the shield against the wall. Silvan knew the minute Jerril spied Cebrus in his bed.
“He’s mine!” With a shout of rage, Jerril pulled a knife from his belt, ran across the room and lunged at Cebrus. Silvan grabbed Jerril, but not before the soldier’s blade sliced through Cebrus’s chest. Blood spurted across the covers.
“No!” Silvan screamed.
Horror shot through him like an arrow. He slammed Jerril’s hand against the wall until he dropped the knife.
“I will kill him,” Jerril screamed. “You’re mine.”
“You won’t get the chance.” Silvan threw Jerril against the wall. When the soldier moved forward he punched Jerril in the face and kept punching until strong hands yanked him back.
“Tend to the wandmaker,” someone said.
He turned a furious gaze to the interlopers. More of his soldiers entered the room. Two of them grabbed Jerril and bound his hands behind his back.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” a soldier said.
Silvan rushed over to Cebrus. He gasped at the sight of blood pouring from the chest wound. “No,” he whispered. “You can’t leave me, not when I just found you.”
The sweet and metallic stench of Cebrus’s blood coated his senses like sticky candy. Silvan’s stomach threatened to revolt. Moisture slid down his cheeks, and a sob burst from his chest.
Cebrus covered Silvan’s hand with his own. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice faint. “It’ll be okay.”
Silvan blinked rapidly to see through his tears. “I-I’m not,” he lied.
If his mate didn’t want him to cry while bleeding to death on Silvan’s sheets, he wouldn’t be the one to deny him. He bit his lip to hold in the sobs. The taste of his own blood in his mouth combined with the smell of Cebrus’s threatened to make him hurl up his morning meal.
“I-I’ll be fine,” Cebrus whispered.
“Of course you will.” He patted Cebrus’s hand. The many times he reassured a dying soldier came back to haunt him. He didn’t want to see one more death. He never wanted to see Cebrus’s.
Cebrus’s grip became weak, then fell away as the wandmaker lost consciousness.
“Where’s the god be-damned healer,” Silvan screamed. He couldn’t lose his beloved. He’d just found him. Only healers had the magic to cure wounds, especially fatal ones. All the power in Silvan’s wand couldn’t cure as much as a scratch on Cebrus. Damn it. Silvan kept his gaze on the door, hopeful for any sight of the healer. If one didn’t show up soon, he’d get his father to toss the incompetents out of the kingdom and get new ones.
“I’m here!” A woman ran into the room and came to a stop beside Cebrus. She froze when she caught sight of her patient. “Oh dear, no one told me it was a wandmaker.”
Her hands fluttered around the air over Cebrus’s chest, but she didn’t touch. “How do you know he’s a wandmaker?”
“It’s his aura. He’s immune to magic.”
“Do something! He’s dying!” Silvan demanded.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I-I don’t know how to heal him. Wandmakers are immune to magic.” The panic in the healer’s eyes didn’t reassure Silvan.
Fuck.
Anger surged through him. He’d never been so close to snapping a woman’s neck in his life. All healers didn’t use wands. Not everyone had the gift to use magic.
“What do healers who don’t have magic do?”
“I’ve heard of people using a needle and thread. But I don’t know, I’ve never tried that. We could cauterize the wound with a hot brand,” she offered. Her hopeful expression didn’t reassure Silvan.
The thought of branding his wandmaker with glowing metal sent shivers of revulsion through his system. Cebrus would scar from a branding, and Silvan didn’t want to be responsible.
“Find me a real doctor,” he said.
As the blood seeped through his fingers, he knew it was too late. They’d never heal Cebrus in time. His fingers trembled as he watched Cebrus’s life essence trickle from his chest.
“You could heal him with your wand,” the healer pointed to the intricately designed piece Cebrus had created for him.
“You just said wands don’t work on him,” Silvan pointed out.
The healer shook her head. “No I said magic doesn’t work on them, not from other people’s wands but I can tell yours has some of his essence in it. You might be able to use it to seal his wound. It might not heal him completely, but it could help.”
Even as hope sputtered to life, it died. “I don’t have any healing magic.”
The healer made a noise of disgust. “He’s going to die if we don’t do something. At least this way, you’ll know you gave it your best. What are you going to do if he dies because you were afraid to try anything?”
Silvan scowled at her before turning back to Cebrus. He traced Cebrus’s cheek with his index finger, leaving a trail of blood on the wandmaker’s pristine skin. “All right.” Cebrus wouldn’t survive much longer. His skin had turned too pale from blood loss and taken on a bluish tinge.
“You’d best do something quick,” the healer prompted.
“I love you, my sweet,” Silvan whispered, ignoring the healer. He knew Cebrus didn’t believe him yet, but the men in Silvan’s family fell in love at first sight. Not one of them had ever courted the traditional way, but every member had stayed happily married until they died.
Silvan picked up his wand and held it over Cebrus’s still form. Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, Silvan grappled with finding his focus. All he could see was Cebrus bleeding out and dying from his wound. His heart twisted with pain.
“I’ll do what I can to help,” the healer offered. “I don’t know if indirect magic works or not. I’ll start a healing chant, maybe it can boost your spell.”
“Thanks.” Any help was appreciated.
She pressed her hands on either side of Cebrus’s head, then began to chant. A nod from the healer snapped Silvan out of his introspection. Silvan didn’t recognize the healer’s words, but he lifted his wand and concentrated on adding his power to it. If this didn’t work, he’d never fall in love again. His heart wound shatter with Cebrus’s death.
“Focus!” the healer reprimanded as Silvan began to fall into a spiraling depression.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Closing his eyes to block out the sight of Cebrus’s injury, Silvan pushed everything out of his mind except the words of the spell. He let the sound wash through him like a verbal wave, letting her words carry him.
“Come on, love. Heal,” he begged. “I can’t go on a quest without you.”
“It’s working,” the healer whispered in awe.
Silvan’s eyes snapped open. Blue flames flickered along Cebrus’s wound, crackling and popping as the bleeding gash knit together. The healer lifted her hands.
“Keep up the energy,” the healer urged. “You’re almost there.”
Taking a shaky breath, Silvan continued to feed power into the spell until the flames sputtered out and only a thin line of red remained as a memory of the cut.
Cebrus continued to lie still, barely breathing, but at least he was no longer bleeding out. “Will he be all right?” Silvan asked.
“Give him some time. He’ll have to reproduce the blood he lost naturally.” The healer reached into her bag and removed a small paper packet, which she handed over to Silvan. “Pour some of this into his juice. It will help build up his blood.”
“Thanks.” Silvan’s gaze never left Cebrus as he spoke. If Cebrus recovered from this wound, he would never let Cebrus out of his sight again.
Chapter Four
Cebrus groaned. Pain pierced his body, and his chest throbbed from a line of fire burning across his skin. Instinctively, he put a hand to where he hurt.
“You’re awake,” a warm, deep voice spoke beside him.
Cebrus turned his head to find Silvan watching him, a concerned expression in his gaze. “Jerril attacked me.” The damn knight had turned on Cebru
s and came after him without warning.
“He’s been executed,” Silvan in a flat tone.
“You killed him?” Cebrus’s mouth dropped open. He’d expected Jerril to be in jail. Execution hadn’t occurred to him. How long had he been unconscious?
“He tried to murder my future husband. I have no tolerance for people trying to kill the man I love. If I let him live, I would’ve looked weak to my people and others would think they were free to attack you at will. I had to make a statement.”
Cebrus had no response to that. No one had ever been killed because of him before. One part of Silvan’s speech stuck in his head. “You can’t love me, we just met.”
Silvan kissed Cebrus’s forehead then stood up. “I know what I feel. Get some rest. We’re going to continue your quest in a few days, and we need you to be recovered by then.”
“Why the hurry?” As far as Cebrus knew, he wasn’t on any timeline. Some wandmakers spent years on their quests.
“Because I want to be back here by solstice so we can be married,” Silvan announced right before he walked out the door.
“Um…” Cebrus watched Silvan disappear from view, not letting him speak. “What do I do now?”
Cebrus looked down at his chest. A thin red line marred his smooth skin. “My first scar.” Patting the mark, Cebrus smiled. He’d always wanted an interesting mark on his body. The men he usually slept with were hardened warriors with fascinating stories to go with each scar.
He didn’t have long to enjoy his solitude before King Minr marched into the room without fanfare.
“I heard you were awake,” the king said.
“Your Majesty,” Cebrus struggled to get up only to be waved back down.
“Stay, stay. I don’t want to hear my son complain that I’ve re-injured you. He made quite the fuss about your wound. Put poor Jerril to death. He was a good knight, Jerril. Stupid, but a good knight.” The king settled on the chair beside the bed and examined Cebrus with his piercing gray eyes.
“Sorry,” Cebrus offered. He didn’t know what to say about the man he’d only met once before Jerril tried to murder him.