Kilan shook his head. “I don’t know what gave you the idea but --”
“Kilan.” Antal’s tone admonished. His gaze and voice seemed to say they both knew he was lying, but Kilan couldn’t go ahead without protest.
“What makes you think I should wear the collar? Why not you?” He tried to sound forceful, but his voice sounded hushed, even defeated. Antal didn’t answer the question. He simply stepped closer, dangling the collar, his voice doing all the work, bringing Kilan’s desires alive with promise.
“Let me put it on you, Kilan. Don’t consider it an official acceptance. We can discuss the…finer points when we have time. For now, just wear the collar…for me. Do it to please me. Do it to see how it feels.”
Afraid someone else would step into the corridor any moment and seeing implacability in Antal’s eyes, Kilan nodded. At least those were the reasons he gave for accepting.
“See how it feels.” He could do that. What astounded him was the idea that he very much wanted to know.
Antal moved close enough to slip the collar around his neck without making a fuss. Even so, the moment the leather touched his skin, Kilan started to tremble. That trembling seemed to move through him, threatening to shatter everything he’d ever thought of himself. He hated responsibility, but this was letting go of control on a completely different, deeply intimate level, a letting go he understood was essentially a lie. He was allowing Antal to do this, and for that he felt undeniably stupid. He felt ridiculous, absurd, intimidated, oddly desirable, and willing. He could have gone on examining his emotions, but he daren’t. He couldn’t stand it another minute. He had assumed it would be such a simple thing. Let Antal put the damn collar around his neck, button up his tunic, get it out of sight. Now he knew why he’d believed the width significant. Someone had designed the collar narrow enough to be discrete yet wide enough to remind the wearer of its existence. The feeling unnerved him. The only distraction was his concern as he immediately realized the style of his tunic couldn’t possibly hide the collar. He latched on to that fact as a way to ignore his feelings.
“I can’t go into council like this!” he hissed, not even trying to disguise the panic in his voice.
Without saying a word, Antal pulled at the silk scarf he wore around his neck. He swiftly slid it around Kilan’s neck, tying it in place. “There.”
“You’re sure?”
Antal nodded. “No one can see it. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Kilan barked out a laugh.
“If we take this further, then that’s what it’s all about: trust.”
“I do…trust you. You’re completely trustworthy.” The other man appeared a little uncomfortable of the declaration, but he gave a single curt nod of acceptance. Kilan didn’t care for Antal’s modesty; he trusted Antal with his life. That wasn’t even an issue, but if his life, then why not his body, his heart? “Antal…” Kilan hated that he sounded so young, but he felt completely adrift. In all the times he’d imagined the two of them bumping into each other again, not once had he envisioned anything like this.
“I know.” The warmth in Antal’s voice said he understood everything Kilan was feeling right now, suggested he understood more than Kilan knew. His gaze caressed. “We’ll talk later. I think you’re quite late enough for council as it is, don’t you?”
Oh…by the comet! Kilan jerked. He’d have to run, and even then he needed a little luck. If they’d closed the doors on time, he’d have to knock. The guards would open the doors enough for him to slip inside the council chambers, but every eye in the place would turn in his direction. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand that while wearing a collar, even if no one could tell. They’d take his blush owing to his tardiness, but he’d definitely blush. He just knew he would. Maybe he could stop on the way long enough to remove it.
“Are you free tonight?”
Kilan nodded.
“I wasn’t going to be, but I’ll make sure I am.” Antal grinned. “Delegation, it’s a wonderful thing.
“Keep it on,” he added, clearly referring to the collar and speaking as though he had read Kilan’s mind. “Keep it on all day. Come to me tonight wearing it.”
With those words, Antal leaned in to whisper in his ear before stepping away, moving back into the main corridor as though they’d simply been having a conversation, as if he didn’t leave a shaken young man behind.
“That’s an order.”
Stunned by the parting message, struck by the confused feelings of arousal and mixed emotions that ensued, Kilan just stood there.
Oh by the comet… Kilan didn’t know what he was going to do. He needed time to think. He needed to… He needed to get to the council chambers! He took off at a run, ignoring the smirks of those thinking, There goes the young prince, late again. Better to let them think that than suspect the truth.
Swallowing caused the collar to squeeze his throat. Once started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He didn’t have time to stop to remove it, and nowhere private enough presented itself. Strangely, every time the collar pressed into his throat, it felt as if a small flush of blood pumped into more intimate parts of his body, and that was nothing compared to the thoughts tumbling around in his mind.
Chapter Twelve
“Oh go on, I was only teasing you. Just like your father, the pair of you.”
With his mother’s words reverberating in his head, Antal cast his gaze over the room. He should have been spending the evening with his family but had dropped by to let his mother know he couldn’t make it, using some feeble excuse. At least, he had felt feeble. His mother appeared to believe the small deception well enough. Part of his new attitude was the vow not to neglect his family. Even Ryanac went out to his family farm at least once a month, although he usually took Markis and Uly with him for the shared delight of his mother’s cooking. Even Antal had tasted those home-cooked meals. His own mother might not be such a great cook, but that was no reason not to visit, especially since Antal’s family lived within the city. Antal shouldn’t have found it nearly so difficult to get home as much as he did. His mother had laughed when he’d broken his promise to spend the evening with them, comparing him to his father.
Am I like my father? He guessed in a way he was: dedicated, ready to laugh, but never neglectful of duty. Of course, he’d taken that to a point where it had almost ground him down, and as much as he faced his imperfections, he should take the time to acknowledge his accomplishments. He needed something or someone in his life as a release, to ease his stress. Kilan was someone he could not only have great sex with, but Antal saw enough good qualities in the prince to want to know him better and maybe even help him through his own troubles. Maybe he looked for just another way to take control, but then the type of sex he was looking forward to also involved careful management. Antal couldn’t deny the small smile that tugged at his lips. He was also rather like Ryanac in more than one way, if not nearly so intense. One of those ways was his love of sex, a love he’d denied for too long. Having reawakened his interest, he wanted more of what he’d shared with the prince. He wanted Kilan.
As to his own troubles, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t still have things to work out, but he had told Kilan the truth. He’d delegated. He was learning how to do things a different way, and his life could only get better. Antal’s parents were proud of him; he had no need to prove himself as capable as his father was. Antal couldn’t help wondering how proud they’d be if they could see him now, not because of anything he planned to do -- sex and a same-sex relationship were nothing to worry the Swithin -- but because of his initial indecision. Even knowing what he wanted, what he looked forward to doing tonight, what had he been thinking of when he bought that collar?
He’d thought of seeing the expression on Kilan’s face when he presented it to him, that’s what. He’d been thinking of how fetching Kilan would look in oh so many different scenarios over the last few days. He had no problem with that. The trouble lay in that he cou
ldn’t see beyond this evening. His mother’s comment -- meant to convey that his father had the habit of breaking the odd promise owing to duty -- had shaken him up because Antal had unconsciously always seen himself in exactly the same way he saw his father. He wanted to be successful in his work, in love, and in raising a good, happy, and equally successful family. If he formed a relationship with Kilan… Well, it didn’t mean he couldn’t have those things -- to the Swithin even two people constituted a family -- but his life would be different from the way he had always imagined.
It’s just a bit of fun. Repeatedly saying that didn’t change the fact that he was looking forward to seeing Kilan again a whole lot more than he should for just a bit of fun. He wanted more than fun. He looked forward to this evening, even if his being in command of Kilan was merely an illusion of authority. The more he’d thought about it, the more the idea had appealed. He struggled to let go. In a dominant semaris role, he could hold on to the appearance of power even if truly Kilan was the one in charge. His control would not be over Kilan but over himself. In order not to break such a bond of trust, he would need to remain alert to the prince’s needs. He would need discipline. Odd how the line of power could shift between two semaris partners, sometimes going back and forth, but he had seen it happen. It made two people who could connect on such a level strangely equal.
He’d prepared the room. They had wine. They had something to nibble on…meaning food. Antal blinked at the direction his thoughts were taking. The bed had clean sheets on it, but as his room was situated in the palace, it had clean sheets on it each day. He was Uly’s Sonndre, and that meant his place would always be close to the man he protected. His life would always differ in that way from his father’s existence. It might make things difficult for a wife. Kilan already lived in the palace.
Antal blinked, startled by his thoughts. Was he trying to find reasons not to have a wife one day? Worse, was he trying to justify his feelings regarding Kilan? What he looked for in a partner was someone to relax with, and with Kilan, he certainly didn’t have to worry about discussing his duty, for Kilan presented no threat to security. Kilan already read all the documents Antal had to keep secret. Time apart was not an issue, for they saw each other often, these last few days being an exception owing to Antal deliberately wanting time alone.
A knock at the door interrupted his deliberations. Grateful not to have more time to think, Antal walked over and opened it. Just as he expected, Kilan stood on the other side. What he hadn’t expected was for Kilan to look so natty.
“You’ve let your hair down,” Antal said as he stepped aside so that Kilan could enter.
Kilan raised a hand to the side of his head, running his fingers down, combing through his hair as if Antal made him self-conscious. He even walked a little stiffly -- nerves, Antal was certain, and not an erection, even though he intended an erection would be forthcoming. “A braid seemed a little formal for the outfit,” the prince muttered.
It would have been at that, but Antal didn’t believe that was what Kilan had wanted to say. Antal took a moment as he closed the door to appreciate Kilan’s efforts. He wore a loose tunic and even looser fitting pantaloons in black, decorated with dark bronze embroidery. Had Kilan chosen the bronze as the closest hue to match his eyes or because it complemented the colors in the scarf that Antal had tied around Kilan’s neck earlier in the day? The casual outfit still amounted to a more presentable mode of dress than Kilan usually favored when he relaxed. As Antal moved past him, he let his hand brush across Kilan’s hip. As he’d suspected, Kilan wore no undergarments.
“The braid looked too formal for the outfit or for the evening’s entertainment?” Antal’s reward was Kilan looking down at the floor in a very meek gesture. He couldn’t tell if Kilan reacted to the question or his touch, and he didn’t care. He just loved seeing it happen.
Antal had chosen a robe of the type Markis favored. He too had chosen his outfit carefully. The color of Antal’s robe was far lighter than the threads decorating Kilan’s clothes -- copper rather than bronze -- but no one would question whether he’d chosen it to match his features. He’d looked in the mirror, and he knew what Kilan saw as that uncertain gaze flicked up and down, studying him. He could tell by Kilan’s expression that he liked what he saw. Antal grinned. “We’re a matching pair,” he said, surprised when the statement clearly jolted the other man, but Kilan’s reaction only warmed Antal’s heart. Yes, they matched each other in more ways than their decision to dress well for this evening.
The first thought to go through Kilan’s mind was flame. The color of the robe somehow made Antal’s hair and eye color more striking. Kilan’s hair was like his brother’s in color and texture, and just like Markis, his hair, once removed from the braid, always hung straight. He’d seldom seen Antal without his hair braided. The time spent in the grove hardly counted. He’d been too distracted. Out of the braid, Antal’s hair contained a slight wave. The fabric of the robe shimmered, and so did Antal’s eyes and hair. Kilan didn’t know if the effect was natural or a result of lantern and candlelight reflecting off the metallic threads in the robe. He cared less what caused it, just that something did. All his brain and other parts of his anatomy were telling him that the sight was a very beautiful one indeed. The idea of flames was inaccurate. Flames were red, orange, yellow, and white, but the color made him think of firelight flashing against dark metals, glowing. Something in Antal’s gaze made those amber eyes so persuasive, that stare so…invasive.
“What’s happening here?” Kilan suddenly blurted out, quite unnerved.
“I’m almost as surprised as you are,” Antal said. He sounded a little breathy. That alone increased Kilan’s anxiety. If Antal wasn’t quite in control, then what hope did they have? This was madness.
“You don’t seem like the Antal I know or even the one I came to know in the grove.”
“But I am,” Antal said. “I’m all those things.” He took a step forward, cupping Kilan’s chin with his fingertips. “I’m also this.” He moved in, and Kilan closed his eyes for the kiss. His eyes closing brought some relief, but the moment their lips touched, he sensed something else. A tiny gold spark deep inside him flashed.
“The comet does recognize you,” Kilan said the moment Antal pulled back from a rather innocent kiss and he could speak again.
“I know. I can feel it too. I think… I think we need to mention this to Markis. I think anyone who wields the comet needs to think twice about whom he heals. I think the legend of Lewi contains some truth, but it could also be the way our ignorant ancestors explained the things they felt when they, unwittingly or not, carved a statue out of a comet.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m not so concerned with that, though.”
“No?” Antal pulled back enough to look him in the eye. Kilan searched his gaze.
“No. I’m worried whether it’s affecting our feelings at all. Our…desires.”
“Ah.” It sounded as if Antal understood the full weight of Kilan’s concern. “I don’t think it is. Not in the way you mean. I can’t explain it, but I can sense the power in you when we’re this close. I sense the comet, but I don’t think it has influence on me. I’ve never understood it before, but you can tell me if I’m wrong. It’s almost a separate entity in some respects, but you’re still your own person? It’s part of you and yet separate too?”
Kilan nodded. “Something like that. It’s very difficult to define.”
As difficult as semaris. He chased the thought away, determined to focus on the comet. Although he didn’t know how to explain how the comet felt or made him feel, hearing Antal even guess at that much somehow lifted the burden of it. Markis understood, but Markis was his brother and the king. Kilan needed someone to hold him occasionally in more than a platonic way.
“Have you ever felt that it could influence the world without your control?”
He had to think about that. Antal stood there, silently waiting. “No.” Ki
lan smiled in relief when he realized the truth of that. “It needs my cooperation. The wrong ruler could use it in despicable ways if he wanted. I don’t have to tell you that. If the comet was able to influence people, it would do more than guide those who could access the power.”
“I think so too. As for us, I think it recognizes us both, likes what it sees, and wants to play with us.”
“Maybe that’s what I find disturbing.”
“Are you sure that’s the only thing you find disturbing?”
Kilan looked into Antal’s eyes as the other man reached out. Antal looped a finger under the scarf and pulled it free. His gaze went down to stare at the collar beneath. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me if you removed this at all today.”
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t have articulated the turmoil he’d been in all day if his existence depended on it. Finally, he opted for the simplest statement. “I didn’t,” Kilan responded truthfully in a quiet voice. He understood the underlying implication. The master was asking the supplicant if he’d obeyed. “I wore it all day…for you.”
“Are you afraid, Kilan?”
Oh by the comet, was he ever? He nodded. Moisture stung the back of his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry. They weren’t tears of pain or frustration or rage. Neither were they tears of joy. He didn’t know if he could do this, but after leaving Antal in the corridor, the rest of the day had dragged. Each hour had tortured him more than the last. Kilan couldn’t understand it. He was light-hearted, carefree, and altogether in charge of his destiny. Well, for the most part. Yet where Antal was concerned, he suddenly felt undeniably…submissive? He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. If he had looked forward to the evening, certain parts of his body absolutely rejoiced. His mind… His mind felt as if it would break apart, shatter. Every step on the way here had been difficult, but now…embarrassment fled. A strange peace took its place. He felt scared, but it wasn’t dread. In a way, his fear was even good and welcome.
A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion Page 16
