by Jana Downs
“He’s spent a lot of time in his room since you’ve been gone. I don’t think he even knows that you’re back to be honest,” Tony offered from his place by the fireplace. Poor thing was probably worried about his own fate because of Salvatore’s “death.” Tony had told him that they hadn’t wanted to get Theron’s hopes up by telling him that Salvatore had been writing them in case it was an elaborate sham.
A crisp knock sounded on the door, interrupting whatever reply Salvatore had been forming. His Ravyns tensed, and Salvatore’s heart pounded. Hope clawed its way up into his chest.
“Master,” Cord’s voice sounded through the wood, addressing Alex. The vampire used his inhuman speed to open up the door and admit the shifter. “There are two men waiting in the foyer who claim to be sent from the Faery King with a message for Prince Salvatore.”
“Show them to the tearoom,” Alex commanded immediately. He glanced at his Timex watch. “It’s just after sunset, so all of my people are up and about the house. What do you want to do, Salvatore? Should I call for extra reinforcements or let you handle this?”
“It’s a personal matter, Alexander.” Salvatore stood, smoothing his hand down his shirt. He’d felt oddly confined in his clothing since he’d been back. Everything felt too tight and constrictive. “I’d prefer to deal with it by myself.” The Ravyns growled, and Salvatore sighed. He’d so gotten used to not having people demand to protect him every second of every bloody day. “With my Ravyns of course,” he added, not wanting to be confrontational.
* * * *
The tearoom was a stately, formal room that Alex usually used to greet business associates. It was exactly like a Victorian tearoom, complete with pastel colors, repeating wallpaper, and high-end, ornate furniture. The room somehow managed to pull off formality with a dose of well-calculated sunshine that was much more relaxing than most modern office rooms. Salvatore had only been here once or twice.
Two of his Ravyns went into the room ahead of him, and the other three filed in behind. The two shifters which were assigned to them as well took up their posts on either side of the door. Salvatore rolled his eyes. If these really were fae from Underhill, they were more likely to kiss as to kill him.
Salvatore pushed his way through the mountain of men in his path and couldn’t keep the grin off his face at the two familiar visages in his line of sight.
“Mar, Quis!” he greeted. The two men bolted out of their chairs and raced toward him. Tony and Druas tried to step in their way, but they simply disappeared and reappeared in front of Salvatore anyway. They threw their arms around him.
“Salvatore!” Mar returned, scattering kisses over his face like an eager child. “We’re so glad we found you. Our King gave us the address, but we weren’t sure if it was correct.”
“Our King has been so very busy since you’ve been away. Neither of us had talked to him since your marriage until he summoned us a few nights ago,” Quis added. They spoke like he’d been gone a lot longer than six nights. The time must be moving faster in Underhill as Alex had predicted.
“The war preparations have all been made. Your soldiers stand ready to command.” Mar beamed at him. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“War? Whose war? My war?” Salvatore asked stupidly. He was a bit overwhelmed. He had been expecting them to be delivering some sort of an apology from Destin.
“Yes. Your war, my Prince. The soldiers your husband pledged to your cause as well as some additional ones from his mother’s Court. He told us to tell you that they would be ready in two weeks’ time. He’s having difficulties bringing his mother’s people and his own together without consequence, so it has taken longer than he expected. He also asked us to check on your health, and it seems he was correct. You haven’t needed to feed in his time away?” Salvatore shook his head. He hadn’t even thought of feeding. He’d been too distracted and grief stricken. “Good. Then you have his ability to feed on others without lying with them. A rare trait indeed for a fae so young.”
“Practically unheard of, my lord,” Quis piped in.
“Your Ravyns must be sustaining you quite well. They care deeply for you.” Mar looked at the two Ravyns standing closest and laughed. “Though they do not care for us this close to you at all.”
“Bugger them,” Salvatore said unexpectedly. He felt the stunned gazes of his Ravyns. Salvatore was never so unrefined in front of company. “Come. Sit on the couch with me. I want to know everything my lover has been up to in my absence.” He drew them to the couch they’d been sitting across from before. One snuggled on each side of him, much closer than human or demon propriety allowed. The Ravyns stared at him like he’d grown another head.
He glared at them. “Would you all relax? These are Destin’s advisors, Mar and Quis. They’re perfectly harmless.”
“Do you always snuggle your advisors like that? Because if so, we’re missing out.” Allasandro couldn’t resist cracking the joke, but Salvatore smiled.
“They’re fae. It’s what we do. You think this is bad, you should’ve been with us when I was—” His thoughts stalled out. Had he really almost admitted to fucking these two men to his Ravyns? How grossly inappropriate! He shook his head. He’d picked up some strange traits from the courtiers of Underhill.
Allasandro’s grin stretched from one ear to the other. “If the rest of Underhill is so friendly, then I can see why you stayed so long. Damn, my Prince.” Salvatore blushed as Tony cuffed Ally’s head.
Mar and Quis tried to smother their laughter but didn’t quite manage it. He cleared his throat. “Can we please get back to the conversation I was having?” The two fae nodded.
“In your absence, His Majesty has been raising an army the likes of which the fae world hasn’t seen since the last of the Court wars several hundred years ago. He has already installed one of his top generals on Earth to act as council to you. He sent us ahead before Sardinia because he thought your Ravyns would be more comfortable meeting harmless courtiers rather than a general,” Quis finished, and Salvatore nodded. That made sense. His Ravyns probably would’ve flipped if a fellow warrior showed up and tried to gain a private audience with Salvatore.
“His Lordship also asked if it would be possible to gain some warriors from other vampire clans. He feels that it would be best to stage a rebellion with as much variation of force as possible.”
“Is the faery serious?” Druas asked in wonder. “Is he really donating troops to overthrow Desmond?”
“With a significant force, we could convince the demons still loyal to our cause to join the battle. Right now we have the element of surprise. Rumor has already been circulating that you are dead from this world,” Tony added his thoughts. His mind was obviously churning with possibilities.
“Vampires never do anything for free,” Dageus piped up, addressing the fae advisors. “And they never do anything for another species unless their arms are twisted. I could get Alex onboard, but he doesn’t have the clout or the muscle in his line to back it up. He’d have to go to the Vampire Council and ask for assistance. Once they grant him the ability, he can talk to other clans but not until then. It’d take some fancy maneuvering. I’ll talk to him about it when we’re finished here.”
Salvatore held up his hand to silence their excited chatter. “Is this why Destin has been staying away? Because he’s been arranging this? Why didn’t he contact me? Something, anything would’ve done. He knew what I would’ve thought about being left alone. What the hell?”
Quis and Mar shot each other a glance and then glanced at Salvatore in confusion. “Why didn’t you summon him?” Mar wondered. “He’s been waiting for your call for weeks now. To be honest, he’s trying to be patient but he’s been pretty miserable without you.”
Salvatore blinked. “How the hell am I supposed to summon him? I don’t know how!” He twisted the ring on his finger in agitation. As the ring spun into the light, the engraving caught his eye again. Wherever you go. So go I. Call my name. Saoi. Gods, was
it really that simple?
“Saoi, stubborn-ass uncommunicative King of Underhill, I summon you.”
The room flashed white, blinding everyone momentarily. The Ravyns’ powers expanded as their fear leapt to the forefront of thought. They all simultaneously dove in Salvatore’s direction, dog piling on top of him in an effort to shield him from whatever made the light. When the blinding shroud faded, a shorter male stood in the middle of the sitting room with a tight, black, mesh shirt, black pants with neon-green stitches, and a gold crown on his head that was inlaid with black-and-red stone. A single ring adorned his finger. The matching platinum band was the only thing needed to tell the Ravyns what they needed to know. The bartender was Salvatore’s husband and the King of Faeries.
Destin blinked, his brows furrowing. “Did you call me here to watch your wrestling match, Salvatore? I had hoped you’d summon me to a more private setting.” He almost seemed to be pouting. Salvatore let out a frustrated noise and shoved at his Ravyns.
“Get off me, you big louts! For Heaven’s sake. You are crushing me.” The Ravyns shifted ever so slightly, allowing Salvatore to sit up straight but not giving Destin a clear shot of his lover. They all gave identical snarls in his direction. Salvatore’s irritation rose.
“That is my husband you are growling at. Stop it. Now.” The growls quieted, but they remained where they were.
“Well, they certainly are protective,” Destin noted dryly. “Not to mention stubborn,” he added after a moment as Salvatore pushed against Druas’s broad shoulders in vain. “They’re afraid I’m here to steal you away again.” Salvatore glanced at their auras. Yes. Fear was there. Mistrust as well.
“Ravyns,” he warned. “That is my husband, and this is your last chance to show him the proper respect awarded his station.” They remained unmoved. “You have ’til the count of three. One. Two.” One by one the Ravyns dropped to their knees and twined their middle and ring fingers, inclining their heads in a perfect bow. “Better.” He petted Tony’s head, trying to sooth the tension that was rolling off of his Ravyn in waves.
The Demon Prince stepped around them and walked up to his lover. “Next time you drop me off somewhere in the middle of the night, leave a phone number,” he chastised.
“I left instructions.” The Fae King motioned to the ring on his finger.
“Those are not instructions. Those are sweet, sentimental words that you’d find on any other personalized wedding ring.”
“Instructions.”
“Stubborn faery.” Salvatore growled.
“Pigheaded demon,” Destin snapped back. The annoyance melted out of both of them as the argument progressed. They slowly smiled at one another.
“Missed you, faery boy,” Salvatore admitted. Destin came easily into his arms, resting his head on Salvatore’s strong shoulder.
“Missed you, too.” Destin pressed a kiss to the side of Salvatore’s neck. “Everything is almost ready for your war.” He motioned toward his Ravyns. “You’re going to need more of them as this conflict progresses. Five men are good, but seven men are better. Magick works better with seven.”
“My Ravyns said the same thing before I was taken to Underhill.” The Demon Prince felt the old well of magick rise within him. His wings threatened to take form on his back. “I still don’t think I’ve got the energy to bind them as my father did.” He was exasperated by that. He’d thought with his additional powers that it would be a simple thing, but he now knew the spell that his father had performed, and it required a lot more than he had.
“You have a few picked out?” Destin asked, drawing back slightly so he could look into Salvatore’s face.
“Yes. Two shifters from the Entertainer household that act as bodyguards. They’re well trained and loyal. It doesn’t matter though. I don’t think I can do it.”
“You can’t do it alone. I was looking through our records for the spell that your father used to bind them in reincarnation after you told me about it. The reason it weakened him so severely was because he didn’t perform it correctly. He was lucky he didn’t kill himself trying it. He must’ve been tremendously powerful.”
“He was,” Salvatore agreed. He frowned as what Destin said sank in. “What do you mean incorrectly? What did he do wrong?”
“You need two members of royal lines to perform it. It takes only partial power from each. Usually, it is the King and Queen who perform it so that they have equal burdens.”
Salvatore shook his head. “My mother wouldn’t have survived it.”
“Perhaps not. But I would.” Destin’s beautiful eyes were filled with steely determination. “With our combined strengths, we could open and draw more people into the binding.”
“You would do this for me?” Salvatore was oddly touched by his persistence on his behalf. It was nice to be so thoroughly taken care of and, at the same time, made to feel the power of his station.
“I want you as protected as I can possibly get moving forward. I would die for you, Salvatore. Of course I will do this for you.” Destin sounded downright annoyed that he’d even asked. His southern drawl got thicker whenever he got annoyed. The demon traced Destin’s jaw with the tip of his finger.
“I’m glad you’re not running from us anymore.”
“Gag. If you put anymore sentimental crap into this conversation, I am seriously going to puke,” Allasandro’s voice piped up from behind them. They turned in unison and saw the Ravyn still on his knees, head bowed, but the expression on his face was unmistakable. Destin burst out laughing.
“Is he always like that?” he asked after a moment of being lost in his fit of giggles.
“Yes,” Salvatore said sadly. “Always.”
Epilogue
One Week Later
The two monarchs lay side by side in opposite directions on Salvatore’s bed. Destin’s mouth surrounded the thick length of Salvatore’s cock while Salvatore’s own mouth worked the pierced head of Destin’s. The feeling of the two sensations of being sucked and getting sucked was one that Salvatore was thoroughly enjoying.
He reached his hand up and fondled his partner’s tight sac as he neared the peak of his pleasure. There was nothing the Demon Prince loved more than making his lover spurt helplessly into his willing mouth. Destin’s mouth popped off his arousal as he drew closer.
“Salvatore. Stop,” he panted. “Goin’ to come.” His mouth immediately went back to Salvatore’s aching length, working it hard with a desperate edge to the movement.
Salvatore drew his mouth back, using his hand instead to work Destin’s body as his hips started pumping instinctually. “Come for me then,” he mumbled. “Shoot down my throat like a good faery boy.” Destin cried out around the member in his mouth and convulsed hard. He gave forth his seed in mighty gushes of fluid, the most of which Salvatore caught as he sealed his mouth over the rosy head in anticipation. Salvatore swallowed easily, the familiar salty-sweet taste a welcome flavor to him.
Destin had to back off Salvatore’s body for a second to pant. “I didn’t want to come yet, you merciless bastard.” His words sounded out of breath and full of pleasure despite the name calling.
“I love you, too, asshole,” Salvatore returned, placing a kiss on his lover’s spit-shined tip. He glanced down his body and saw Destin give him a smirk, his brown eyes shining.
Before he could ask what he was up to, Destin’s power filled the room with the sweet, heady smell of flowers. It was an aphrodisiac pheromone that members of the royal faery family possessed. Destin had told him about it before but had refused to demonstrate. Until now.
Salvatore throbbed and a moan of want worked itself out of his throat. “I’m merciless?” he gasped.
“Going to ride you so good, dragon boy.” Destin smirked. “Payback is a bitch, huh?”
Salvatore couldn’t do much but gasp for breath as Destin climbed up his body, flipping his leg over the demon’s hip so that he was astride Salvatore. Without preamble, he took Salvatore’s cock
and pushed himself down onto the weeping tip. The demon howled his pleasure to the ceiling as his lover began a fast and furious pace designed to put him over the moon in no time.
Within five minutes, Salvatore was begging for mercy. He never got tired of his lover’s body joined with his.
“Come for me, Salvatore,” Destin panted, giving him his most wicked look of pleasure. “Come for me.” Salvatore did. He gave one last lunge upward into the sanctuary of his lover’s body before going off like a shot within the tight depths.
As they lay together panting afterward, a hesitant knock sounded on the door.
“My Princes,” Tony’s unsure voice said through the thick oak. “The ceremony space is all prepared. We’re just, uh, waiting on the two of you.” Destin started laughing at that, and Salvatore put a hand to his mouth to smother the sound. He tried exceedingly hard not to sound like he’d just had the time of his life.
“I’ll, um, be out in a just a minute, Tony. Thank you.” They heard his retreating footsteps, and then Destin did burst out laughing.
“I told you getting dressed together would never work.” The Faery King tsked.
“I didn’t want you in another room,” Salvatore muttered, blushing lightly. Destin grinned knowingly.
“Yeah, I know.” The King gave Salvatore a sweet kiss before rolling over and retrieving the clothing that they’d thrown off the bed in an effort to get to each other. He pulled his shirt over his head and met the eyes of his lover. “What’s wrong, Salvatore?” The Demon Prince hesitated. “Tell me. No more secrets. Remember?”
Salvatore nodded. “I know it’s silly, but”—he paused—“after this ceremony everything is going to change. It won’t be just me and my Ravyns versus all the worlds and mercenaries in them. We’ll have a legitimate fighting force. A full-scale war will begin.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted, dragon boy? To be able to go home and claim your throne?”
