Dragonwatch

by Jaye McKenna

  Tristin sat up, blinking in the bright light. “In here? You mean to have a picnic on your bed?”

  “Well, it’s a bit dark to be off into the forest,” Mikhyal said, “and I don’t suppose Rhu would allow it anyway. Now that I’m the heir, I’m sure I won’t be allowed nearly as much freedom as I’ve been used to.” The expression on Mikhyal’s face was almost wistful. “I suppose we could go and sit in the gardens and pretend we’re in the forest, but it won’t be nearly as private as staying here would be.”

  “Private?” Tristin flushed and looked around. “Oh, dear. Dirit did try to warn me about you luring me into your lair.”

  “He did, indeed,” Mikhyal said gravely. “And here you are. But you’re free to go whenever you wish. Regardless of what Dirit says, I hope you know I would never try to take advantage of you, Tristin.”

  “I, um, I might not… um, actually mind that,” Tristin whispered. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he cringed, certain he’d been much too forward.

  “Mind what?” Mikhyal’s voice was gentle.

  “Ah. Having you, um, take advantage.”

  “Oh?”

  “There was… um. That night. When you… when we… and then you took your shirt off, but… and it all felt very nice, but… but I never got to see the, um.” He ducked his head, and the last bit came out in a jumbled rush: “I would have liked to have seen a bit more of you.”

  A long silence followed, and when Tristin dared to look up at Mikhyal, the heat in the prince’s blue eyes was scorching. “Your wish is my command,” Mikhyal breathed, and began shedding his clothing.

  Tristin’s cheeks flamed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Mikhyal, warmth already beginning to pool low in his belly at the thought of the kisses and touches that might follow.

  Mikhyal removed his shirt and tossed it aside, and Tristin drew in a sharp breath as his gaze roamed over the prince’s chest and shoulders.

  “Could you…” Tristin trailed off, not sure how to ask. Was there some sort of protocol for these things? “I-I mean… might I… might I see your dragon?”

  “My dragon?” Mikhyal’s lips twitched. “I’ve never heard it called… Oh… Oh, you mean… sorry, of course.” He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Tristin.

  The tattoo was every bit as lovely close up as Tristin had thought it would be. “Beautiful,” Tristin murmured, reaching out to trace the lines with his hands.

  “No more beautiful than yours.” Mikhyal rose and turned to face Tristin, hands moving slowly to the laces of his breeches. “Can I show you my dragon now?” he whispered, eyes locking onto Tristin’s.

  “Please…” Tristin whispered back. He stared, transfixed, as Mikhyal undid the laces and eased the breeches down over his hips. Mikhyal was as aroused as he was, which both pleased and relieved Tristin.

  “Do you think I might see yours?” Mikhyal asked.

  Tristin swallowed hard, suddenly feeling painfully shy and self-conscious, which was ridiculous, considering Mikhyal was the one with no clothing on. Without a word, Mikhyal turned down the lamp beside the bed. The room filled with shadows, the only light now a dim, golden glow.

  “Is that better?” Mikhyal murmured.

  “Y-yes, th-thank you.”

  “If you’re uncomfortable, I can get dressed.”

  “N-no, I think I’d like… I’d like to… show you…” Tristin’s heart was pounding so hard he feared he might faint. “I’m just not sure… I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m not sure what the rules are, and I’m terribly afraid I’ll do something wrong, and I can’t help worrying—”

  Mikhyal leaned forward and kissed him. “May I begin by undressing you?”

  Tristin gulped. “Um. Yes?”

  Mikhyal climbed onto the bed and pushed Tristin down. He began undressing him slowly, starting with his shirt, and covering each revealed bit of skin with tender, reverent kisses. When his shirt was off, Mikhyal straddled his hips and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “Is this all right?”

  “Yes,” Tristin breathed.

  “Might I explore a bit farther?”

  “Please…”

  Mikhyal slowly worked his way down Tristin’s body. Tristin’s entire skin came alive at his touch. The contrast of warm, soft lips with the rough scrape of stubble was almost enough to undo him.

  His hips began to flex slowly, pushing his throbbing cock against Mikhyal as he sought the friction that would lead to release.

  Mikhyal placed a line of kisses across Tristin’s chest, stopping only to tease a nipple or nip at his belly. He moved slowly down to the laces of Tristin’s breeches, then stared up at him. “Might I see what’s under here?”

  “Oh, yes…” Tristin moaned softly, then gasped as Mikhyal began undoing the laces with his teeth, pausing every so often to press his mouth against Tristin’s cock.

  Tristin squirmed and moaned, gasping at the pleasure shivering through him.

  With agonizing slowness, Mikhyal eased his breeches down over his hips, exposing his hot, rigid cock. “Oh, Tristin.” Mikhyal’s voice was a husky growl that sent a searing heat straight to Tristin’s groin. “I want to touch you. May I?”

  “Please…” he whispered.

  Mikhyal pulled Tristin’s breeches the rest of the way off and tossed them aside, then leaned forward and pressed a single kiss to his cock.

  Tristin could barely stand it. A hot, gritty tension was growing inside him, as if something was stretched so tightly it must surely break. “Mikhyal,” he whimpered, arms creeping around Mikhyal, “I want…”

  Before he could even begin to articulate what he wanted, he was in Mikhyal’s arms, the prince’s bare skin scorching him. In the heat of his desire, Tristin’s fears were reduced to ash.

  “I want you, Mikhyal,” he said, his voice sounding strong and certain. “Please.”

  “Yes…” Mikhyal whispered. His mouth found Tristin’s, and then those big, strong hands were everywhere, pressing, stroking, squeezing…

  Mikhyal pushed a thigh between his legs, and Tristin thrust hard against his hip, desperate now for release. Mikhyal’s hands skimmed over his hips before he leaned forward, teeth closing lightly on the meat of Tristin’s shoulder.

  Heat surged through Tristin, and he thrust harder. Mikhyal moaned against his shoulder and shifted him to his side, pulling him close with a leg hooked over his hips. Mikhyal’s cock pressed against his own, and then Mikhyal took them both in one big hand and Tristin could no longer think.

  It was sweat and power and animal lust, and Tristin wanted it to go on forever. They came together in a blinding flash, and Mikhyal swallowed the hoarse cry that tore from Tristin’s throat in a deep, possessive kiss.

  After, they drifted on the edge of sleep, limbs tangled, sweat drying, until finally, Mikhyal kissed him and gave him a sleepy smile.

  “Much as I’d love to fall asleep again, we should probably eat something before we do.”

  Tristin’s stomach growled at the thought of food, and Mikhyal laughed as he got to his feet. He didn’t bother to dress, moving about the room in a completely unselfconscious manner, turning up the lamp and closing the curtains on the evening.

  The picnic basket was still sitting on the little table near the bed, and Mikhyal gave it a rueful grin. “I’d still like a picnic in the gardens. I suppose there’s always tomorrow.”

  “Or the next day,” Tristin said with a lazy smile. “Or the day after that.”

  “Mmm. I think I shall have to have a long recovery from my ordeal.” Mikhyal’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “I wonder if Ilya can be bribed to order me to my bed for a few days.” He set the basket on the bed and began unpacking the food.

  Tristin’s stomach growled again at the sight of fresh bread, thick slices of meat and cheese, and blackberry tarts. “Good thing you sent Dirit off on a mission. He’d devour those blackberry tarts in a few seconds, and not leave a crumb for us.”

&
nbsp; “He is a funny little thing, isn’t he?” Mikhyal said, settling himself next to Tristin. “I quite resented him at first, but I find I’ve grown surprisingly fond of him.”

  “Which is a good thing, as it sounds as if he’ll be with you for the rest of your life.”

  “He’s certainly proved his worth. I… I suppose I should ask you before things go much further… how do you feel about… about sharing me with him?”

  Tristin flushed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Mikhyal’s. “Considering he’s already saved your life twice, you won’t hear me complaining. And anyway, I will have to learn to share you, regardless. You will be the Wytch King of Rhiva one day, and then I’ll have to share you with the entire kingdom.”

  “Can you?” Mikhyal asked, a worried frown wrinkling his brow. “You’re not very comfortable at Court, I know.”

  Tristin took hold of Mikhyal’s hand and drew it to his lips, kissing it gently before saying, “If the Dragon Mother wills it, I shall have plenty of time to learn. Believe me, Mikhyal, when I think back to what I thought my future would be just a few short months ago, being here like this with you is… it’s like a dream. I still have to pinch myself to make certain it’s real, and that you’re not one of my hallucinations.”

  “It’s real,” Mikhyal whispered, leaning over to kiss him. “And so am I.”

  Tristin kissed him back, and for the first time since he’d left Shadowspire, he didn’t feel the need to pinch himself.

  ~ The End ~

  Also by Jaye McKenna

  Guardians of the Leythe Novels

  Human Frailties, Human Strengths

  Human Choices

  Wytch Kings

  Book 1: Burn the Sky

  Book 2: Blackfrost

  Book 3: Shadowspire

  Book 4: Dragonwatch

  Middle Kingdoms

  Leythe Blade

  Guardians of the Pattern

  Prequel: Facing the Mirror

  Book 1: Psi Hunter

  Book 2: Gremlin’s Last Run

  Book 3: Ghost in the Mythe

  Book 4: Wildfire Psi

  Book 5: Eye of the Storm

  Book 6: Closing the Circle

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my awesome beta team: Tully, K, Eric, Jill, and my (still) favorite minion, Michael. You guys rock! Thanks to Jill McCarl for general nit-picking, encouragement, and proofreading.

  And huge thanks to Chinchbug for bringing Dirit to life on the cover.

  Author Bio

  Jaye McKenna was born a Brit and was dragged, kicking and screaming, across the Pond at an age when such vehement protest was doomed to be misinterpreted as a paddy. She grew up near a sumac forest in Minnesota and spent most of her teen years torturing her parents with her electric guitar and her dark poetry. She was punk before it was cool and a grown-up long before she was ready. Jaye writes fantasy and science fiction stories about hot guys who have the hots for each other. She enjoys making them work darn hard for their happy endings, which might explain why she never gets invited to their parties.

  Contact Info

  Jaye McKenna can be contacted at

  jayemckenna@gmail.com

  www.jayemckenna.com

  Jaye can also be found on Goodreads

  Chinchbug can be contacted at

  raw.sloochy@gmail.com

  Dragonwatch

  Wytch Kings, Book 4

  The balance of power in Skanda is about to shift…

  Beautiful, broken Tristin of Ysdrach would rather hide in his dragon form than live with a Wytch power that forces him to feel the pain of the past in every object he touches. Struggling to come to terms with a future he never believed he’d have, Tristin needs a reason not to surrender to the beast within.

  Without Wytch power, Prince Mikhyal of Rhiva is not qualified to be his father’s heir, but newly discovered knowledge possessed by Rhiva’s allies could change that. On their journey to a secret negotiation that could shift the balance of power in Skanda, Mikhyal and his father are attacked, and Mikhyal is left bonded to an ancient sword with a mission, an attitude, and a penchant for blackberry tarts.

  Even with the distractions of a royal betrothal ceremony, an enemy striking from the shadows, and the complex negotiations of alliance and rebellion, the painfully shy Tristin still manages to catch Mikhyal’s eye. The two men barely have time to acknowledge their mutual attraction before an attempt is made to end the line of Rhiva.

  Can Tristin and Mikhyal get to the bottom of the plot? Or will the Northern Alliance be torn apart before the ink on the treaty is dry?