by M. A. Church
“Look at me,” Hamza demanded, rampaging need thick in his voice.
Neo met Hamza’s gaze.
“I love you,” Hamza snarled, posed above Neo’s body, his hair writhing on his back.
Neo groaned. “I love you too.”
The fierceness in Hamza’s eyes softened. “I need you.”
“You have me. Always.”
Hamza pushed partially inside, watching Neo for signs of pain. He dropped over Neo, supporting his weight with his hands on either side of Neo’s head. Their gazes locked. Hamza rocked his hips, moving tentatively, and Neo nodded he was okay. Hamza snapped his hips, thrust deep, and slid all the way inside. So hot. So damn snug. He clenched his teeth as he fought not to come.
Gasping, Hamza rested his forehead against Neo’s. “You’re going to make me come before I can satisfy you. Gods, you fit me like you were made for me.”
“I was. Now fuck me.”
Even when he was bottoming, Neo was demanding. Pulling out, Hamza slammed back in.
Neo wrapped his arms around Hamza, holding him close. “Fuck yeah. Right there!”
As he nailed Neo’s hot spot over and over, Neo locked his heels behind Hamza’s back. The wet slap of skin against skin echoed through their bedroom, and their combined scent of desire drove Hamza higher.
“Going to come,” Hamza gasped. “Are you—”
“Yes, yes, gods, I’m there. Come with me, love. Now.”
Hamza’s mind shut down, and his body took over, following Neo’s command. Pleasure ripped through him, and he came, a yowl tearing from his throat. He thrust deeply, then he held himself still as he orgasmed.
Neo gasped when Hamza’s barb unsheathed. “I can feel your barb.”
He moaned—he knew damn well what that pleasurable ‘nip’ felt like. He eased his weight down on Neo and buried his face in Neo’s hair. Tired, gods he was tired, but for the first time in a long time, he felt steady. And finally, finally, the cold that lived within him was gone.
Neo wrapped his arms around Hamza. Contentment spread through his body as Neo held him close. The throbbing need inside him was finally met. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Neo whispered.
When Hamza’s breathing leveled out, and his barb disengaged, he rolled to his side. “Gods.”
Neo turned and faced Hamza. He blinked sleepily. “I think you fucked my brains out.”
“How are you even able to form sentences?” Hamza asked. “Guess I’d better get something to clean us with before we find ourselves stuck together.”
“Good idea. I can’t feel my legs yet, so I’ll just wait here. Besides, we’re just getting started. I’m not done with you, so hurry back.” Neo smiled sweetly.
“Good gods!” Hamza grumbled all the way to the bathroom, Neo’s happy laughter ringing in his ears.
Chapter Seventeen – Hamza
THE MORNING of the crowning dawned bright and sunny. Citizens lined the streets. Early that morning Hamza made one last check that everything was prepared for his dabba’s laying in state.
Duran was dressed in his best finery with a reproduction crown gracing his head as Hamza had ordered. The glass case that held his body was placed in the Great Hall, which was closed for now. It would be opened to viewing as soon as the coronation was finished. For five unit days Tah’Narians would be allowed to come and mourn their fallen king. On the evening of the fifth unit day, the Royal Vigil would be held. Then only family and friends were allowed to see him. On the sixth unit day, Duran was to be entombed in the family vault.
Now here Hamza was, standing in the bedroom, staring at his reflection. The ankle-length, pure white tunic laced up on the sides and was sleeveless, baring his muscular arms. It had silver lacy scrollwork at the bottom and running up the side slits, slits that stopped at his hips. The material was the finest Tah’Nar had to offer.
A thick silver sash was tied around his waist and held a ceremonial dagger. Its sheath was covered in crystals. He moved one of his legs, and a flash of tanned skin caught his eye. On his feet were thick soled, thigh-high white boots with silver buckles running up the sides.
His white hair was left untied. It hung down his back to nearly his ass and gleamed in the morning light. Priceless Tah’Narian crystals hung from his ears. Precious white metal cuffs on his wrists and arm bands sparkled with the same crystals. He turned slightly and caught the reflection of the tattoos on his neck. Outside of that, the only color on him was the lavender at the tips of his hair.
Neo stepped into the bedroom. “Hey, are you about—” Neo’s breath caught.
Hamza tore his gaze from the mirror and faced Neo. “So? How do I look?”
“My gods, Hamza, you look magnificent. Truly.”
“You are just as breathtaking, love.”
Neo blushed. “White really isn’t my color, but you think so?”
“Oh yes.” Hamza drank in the vision before him as Neo slowly turned, showing off his costume.
Neo’s clothes were made of the same expensive material. His pure white pants sat low and fit tightly through the waist and hips. The same lacy silver scrollwork that was on Hamza’s tunic ran up the outside of both Neo’s legs. The pants were tucked into white ankle boots that had the same buckles as the ones on Hamza’s boots.
Neo’s pure white shirt had the same silver scrollwork, and it had long sleeves that belled out above his wrists with crystals that hung down from the hem. A thick silver sash was tied around his waist. It too held a ceremonial dagger covered in those sparkling Tah’Narian crystals like Hamza’s. Neo had Tah’Narian crystals in his ears also. His long auburn hair was loose and flowed down his back. Really, the only color besides the tattoos was the red splash that was Neo’s hair.
Hamza wanted nothing more than to strip Neo where he stood.
“Let me put it this way. I want to slowly uncover every inch of skin and kiss you senseless.” Hamza cleared his throat. Time to change the subject or he’d be walking around with a tent in front of him. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you think less of me if I admitted I’m only slightly terrified?”
Neo’s bubbly laughter bounced around the room. “Only if you promise not to think less of me if I say I’m only slightly terrified too.” He crossed the room and took Hamza’s hands. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
“Gods, yes.”
“I’m here for you. I’ve loved you forever.” A low chime sounded throughout the quarters, and Neo rolled his eyes. “That’s probably Jolak. He has the worst timing.”
Hamza grinned.
Neo hurried out of the bedroom. Instead of following, Hamza took a moment to settle his nerves. From there, he could hear Neo and his atat speaking.
“Hello, Neo. My, don’t you look lovely.”
“Thank you. As do you.”
“Thank you. Is Hamza ready? We need to leave.”
Hamza closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to steady his nerves. Opening them, he left the bedroom.
“I’m ready, Atat.”
Hamza had seen Jolak dressed for royal occasions before, but just like him and Neo, Jolak was dressed in white. The elegant two-piece pant suit fit Jolak impeccably. The long sleeved, wrap V-cut shirt had floor length side panels. The flowy long pants ended at his ankles, and he wore white sandals on his feet.
His straight lavender hair ended just below his chin, but the white streak near his face was braided. He wore his usual circlet. It was comprised of white wires bent into elegant scrolls with multi-layered vine and leaf work twisted throughout. It came to a point, which rested against Jolak’s forehead. A lavender stone that matched his eyes perfectly gleamed in the center.
Jolak’s eyes widened. Gulping, he covered his mouth with his hands. He started blinking rapidly. “Oh, my young. How kingly you look.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no! Don’t you dare.” Neo patted Jolak awkwardly on the shoulder while sending panicky looks at Hamza. “Aw jeez, if you start, then I’ll start, and
… and, so you can’t start!”
“Atat.” Hamza drew Jolak into his arms. “Please don’t. Today will be hard enough. If you falter, then so will I. I need you to be strong. For me.”
Jolak frantically wiped under his eyes. “Yes. Yes, of course. I apologize. It’s just that you look so like Duran. I am proud of you, and Duran would be too.”
“Thank you.” Aw gods, he would not cry. He would not. “I needed to hear that.”
Jolak cleared his throat. “It’s time.”
Turning, he pressed the wall plate. Standing just outside were several of the royal guards, along with two palace guards, who all snapped to attention. Hamza held his hand out and Neo took it. Together, they walked forward, and Jolak stepped in behind them. Once outside their quarters, all the guards bowed their heads.
“Thank you,” Hamza said, acknowledging their show of respect.
The royal guards’ dress uniforms were black, but each wore a white sash to signify who they protected. Each had a helmet that had side pieces which extended to their chin and had black feathers on top. On their hips they wore ceremonial swords. The black blades shone in the morning light. The two palace guards were dressed in full black.
In the corridor, the royal guards surrounded Hamza, Neo, and Jolak. Hamza’s heart beat a swift tattoo as the palace guards led the way. Boots tapped a synchronized chorus on the polished floors. Servants to the castle, each dressed in their formal work uniforms, lined the corridors. Every head was bowed as Hamza passed.
Neo’s hand tightened within Hamza’s. It wasn’t much, but the slight pressure was enough to calm his frantically beating heart.
The two palace guards held open the doors that led to the tropical back gardens. A scented breeze drifted to Hamza. Birds chirped. The sun’s warmth chased the chill away as they stepped foot on the path that would lead them to Darkkit Hall.
Hamza’s breath caught once more as he beheld every damn royal palace guard lining both sides of the path. The royal guards with them took their place in line. Hamza glanced over his shoulder. The two palace guards stood on either side of Jolak.
“Prince Hamza Paketho Shou.” Jolak’s voice snapped out, carrying on the wind. “I have one final duty as King Consort.”
Hamza and Neo jerked to attention.
“As king, the path you walk can be lonely,” Jolak said, a formal tone to his words. “Will you accept Neo on your new path? Or will you choose to walk alone?”
Hamza fought to cover his shock. Nothing like this had been mentioned to him, and by all that was holy, what a way to put him on the spot. He didn’t care for it at all, but one look at Jolak’s face said this was a question he wasn’t going to get out of answering—not that he wanted to. He just didn’t like the surprise of it. A quick glance showed Neo was just as shellshocked by the question. “I choose to walk with Neo.”
“Neo? Will you walk this path with Hamza?” Jolak asked.
“I will,” Neo vowed.
“Your choice is witnessed by only those here. Your royal guard offer their sword. Your family, which awaits inside Darkkit Hall, offer their love. And with this time-honored task completed, be it known I formally step down as King Consort.” A small smile crossed Jolak’s face. “This is where I must leave you. Now go, my young. Tread the path you were meant to take.”
Hamza’s eyes watered. His chest tightened. Neo tugged gently at his hand, and together, they turned back to the path. Each royal guard pulled his sword and held it aloft, creating an arch for them to walk under. When they reached the end, the last two royal guards stepped in front of the towering Darkkit Hall doors. They opened them, allowing him and Neo to step through.
Nearly six hundred unit years old, the flowing, interwoven lines of the vaulted ceiling had a primitive feel. It blazed with light cast by the massive chandeliers inspired by Tah’Narian siege weaponry. The story went that each chandelier was handmade from distressed solid hardwood, steel, and chains.
At the end of the hall was a stone wall where tapestries hung that illustrated great Tah’Narian battles.
A small stage had been set up with two—Hamza squinted. By the gods, yes, it was two thrones. He recognized them immediately, of course, as the ones Duran and Jolak sat in during formal ceremonies.
Once more a path had been formed by visiting royalty and their entourages, Tah’Narian lords, military ground and space officers, the Onfre captains, his advisors, and city officials along with guests. Hand-in-hand, Hamza and Neo crossed to the stage where their crowning would take place. Keyno stood on the stage, waiting, the thrones behind him.
Gathered around the sides of the low stage were his family and friends. Each was dressed in finery, but Hamza noticed only members of the royal family and their mates were dressed in white, although their clothes lacked the jewels, fancy scrollwork, and silver sashes. Jolak had arrived and was standing next to John, and seeing him helped ease Hamza’s nerves.
More members of the royal family who were not as well known to Hamza were also dressed in white but standing with the crowd.
“Hamza Shou and Neo Kere, please join me.”
Still hand in hand, they climbed the few stairs that led to the stage. They stood in front of Keyno, facing each other.
“Family and friends of the King, as well as visiting guests, I bid you welcome. Today the crowning of Prince Hamza Paketho Shou and Prince Neo Kere will take place. Will the witnesses have a seat, please?”
Keyno paused until there was silence once more.
“It’s been a while since Tah’Nar has had a crowning. The last time was when Duran Paketho Shou took the crown. For those unfamiliar with Tah’Narian ways, Shou isn’t so much a name as it is a meaning. Shou means royalty in the Tah’Narian language. My name is Captain Keyno Landium Shou, and since King Duran is no longer with us, I will crown Prince Hamza and his mate, Prince Neo.”
Hamza briefly closed his eyes. Neo again squeezed his hand, and Hamza opened his eyes to glance at Neo. A small smile lifted Neo’s lip, and he winked. The heartache of not having his dabba there faded at Neo’s little flirty display.
“Prince Hamza, will you solemnly promise and swear to rule the peoples of Tah’Nar, and other territories, according to Tah’Narian laws and customs?” Keyno asked.
“I do so solemnly promise and swear.” Hamza’s voice, clear and strong, echoed around the hall.
“Will you solemnly promise and swear to protect the freedom and rights of all your citizens and residents, and to employ all means placed at your disposal by the law to preserve and promote prosperity, as is incumbent upon a good and faithful Sovereign?”
“I do so solemnly promise and swear.”
“Will you solemnly promise and swear to execute your power in causes of law and justice, and to do so with mercy in all your judgements?”
“I do so solemnly promise and swear.”
“Then, in accordance with the Tah’Narian Accession Oath, I willingly testify that as a member of the royal family I uphold this succession to the throne. Take your throne, Your Highness.”
Hamza reluctantly released Neo’s hand and faced the throne. It was a massive silver thing with a wickedly pointed, fan-shaped back. The beautifully carved scrollwork on the arms and legs were done by a master craftsman. Tah’Narian crystals adorned the plush white tufted upholstery making a quilted diamond pattern. That, at least, softened its appearance.
He sat, and Keyno moved to the table behind them. Silence reigned as he picked up the crown and came to stand in front of Hamza. Hamza’s heart rate increased. Here it was. The one thing he simultaneously dreaded and couldn’t wait for.
The symbol of kingship was an open-faced, helmet-crown with a nose guard. There were three main spikes—one on the left, one on the right, with the third in the front—with smaller spikes clustered near the one in front. Side pieces of metal extended down to his chin to protect his face.
It was neither sparkly nor delicate. It was a warrior’s crown, meant to be intimidat
ing. Frankly, Hamza thought it was butt ugly. Gunmetal in color, it had one flawless, perfectly colorless crystal in the middle spike. It was actually kind of frightening looking, and thank all the gods, it was only worn during the most formal of occasions.
Keyno slowly lowered the crown. The weight settled on Hamza’s head, and his heart calmed. He straightened on the throne, a sudden rush of pride flowing through his body. This was who he was meant to be.
“Long live King Hamza!” Keyno bellowed.
The answering roar nearly tossed him out of the chair.
Chapter Eighteen – Neo
NEO’S HEART swelled at the heartfelt allegiance from those gathered. He wished he could see how the people in the streets were reacting too. Pride swelled his chest. Regal in appearance, Hamza sat calmly through it all.
When there was silence again, Keyno addressed Neo, who was still standing. “Prince Neo Kere, do you solemnly promise and swear to hold to King Hamza as he will hold to you?
“I solemnly do promise and swear so,” Neo said, speaking calmly.
“Will you stand as a shining symbol to our people, as your mate will?”
“I solemnly do promise and swear so,” Neo said.
“Then, I willingly testify that as a member of the royal family I uphold this succession as King Consort. Take your throne, Your Highness.”
His throne was the exact duplicate of Hamza’s. Neo sat, and once more Keyno returned to the table behind them. He returned, the consort crown held in his hands.
His was as different from Hamza’s as day was to night. The circlet tiara had ten flawless, perfectly colorless Tah’Narian crystals interspersed throughout the handcrafted leaves and carved flowers. At the back and sides, the circlet came to points facing the ground. Attached to those three points were more Tah’Narian crystals that draped down the back of his head.
Carefully Keyno placed it on Neo’s head, and Neo clutched the throne’s arms. The weight of his crown wasn’t much, but he felt it all the way to his soul.