by BJ Bentley
Darius smiled, having gotten the exact reaction he’d hoped for. “No? What are you then? A crab?”
“No.” She tossed her head. “And I’m not a lobster either,” she blurted, cutting their familiar game short. “I’m a mermaid.”
“Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten?” He ran a finger from the shell of her ear down her neck, eliciting a giggle from the girl. “Sorry, I was just looking for your gills.”
Calista laughed, playfully swatting Darius’s arm. “I don’t have gills, Uncle Darius!”
“Well, then how do you breathe underwater?”
Calista seemed to consider his question, her eyes widening when she couldn’t produce an answer.
“Magic, obviously,” Brinna tossed over her shoulder.
“Yeah! Magic, Uncle Darius,” she drawled, rolling her eyes.
“Dinner is almost ready. Are you washed up?” Brinna asked her daughter with a pointed look.
Calista grumbled something unintelligible and slid off the worn bench at the low table to do as her mother bid.
Darius waited until she was out of the room before he spoke. “She is not herself.”
Brinna sighed, reaching for a bowl and ladling in some of the stew. “It is why I wrote to you,” she admitted. “I could handle the situation if it was just me, but Calista…”
She shook her head and set the steaming bowl in front of her brother, the herbs and spices floating on the steam and tempting his taste buds. The food at the palace was always well prepared and delicious, but still, nothing compared to his sister’s fish stew.
“Has something…happened to her?” The question was painful to even contemplate let alone ask aloud. “I will kill him if—“
“No,” she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. “At least, I don’t think anything…like that…has happened.” Brinna’s knuckles whitened with her grip on the ladle as she dished out another portion of their meal. “You know your niece. She is sensitive. I think she knows my distress. And I think she fears what may happen if Herkon gets his way. Or if he doesn’t, and we are forced to leave.”
Darius opened his mouth to speak, but Calista chose that moment to return.
“Is there bread, mama?”
“Of course, there is, my sweet.” Brinna placed a thick slice of bread across the top of Calista’s bowl. “I would not feed you fish stew without it.”
Darius flashed his sister a small smile. Calista was the only one who had bread with her fish stew because she loved it, and Brinna could never deny her anything, even when she struggled to provide for herself. Darius knew they weren’t starving, but with this new increase in rent, and Herkon’s attempt at extortion, things were not easy for his family. Bread, which should have been an essential, suddenly became a luxury.
The knowledge incensed Darius, and once Calista was tucked safely into her bed for the night, he’d be having words with his sister.
The three of them finished their meal, and Calista challenged her uncle to a game of riddles. When she’d successfully stumped him, she declared herself the winner, and Brinna declared that it was time for bed.
Settled into an unbalanced chair in front of their meager fire, Darius broached the subject that prompted his visit. “You cannot marry him.”
Brinna scoffed into her cup of wine, a leftover from some celebration that probably should have been tossed into the gutter long before now. “Believe me, brother, I have no intention of marrying that flea-ridden eel.”
Darius frowned. “I don’t think eels get fleas.”
Brinna rolled her eyes. “You take my meaning, brother.”
Darius smirked. “He is slimy and unwashed,” he muttered. Growing serious, he sat forward in his seat. “You and Calista could come back to the capital with me.”
“Are you mad? What would I do in the capital?”
“You can work in the palace.”
Brinna thinned her lips. “Darius, I am a self-taught bladesmith with a young child. There is no place for me in the king’s palace.”
“You don’t know that. The king—“
“Would what? Have me shoveling pig shit?” She downed the remains of her wine, grimacing.
“There’s nothing wrong with shoveling pig shit. It’s honest work.”
She had the grace to flinch at his defensive tone, knowing he had done that and likely worse just to help them survive. “I know. I just don’t want to give up my business here. It’s not much, but it’s mine, and I’ve worked hard to keep it that way.”
“No one is telling you you can’t continue to make the finest blades this side of the Yunha River. Just do it where I can keep an eye on you and Calista.” Darius had always admired his sister’s skill with shaping some of the finest weaponry he’d ever seen, and not just because he was hopeless with the craft himself. Brinna was truly talented, and her business would be a thriving one if it weren’t for the sea rovers invading the town months ago and raiding any supplies they could carry, including much of Brinna’s inventory and supplies. They hadn’t been able to replace much of what they’d lost, and Brinna had to make up for what was taken by performing odd jobs around the fish market. It was likely why Herkon was attempting to extort her. He saw her plight and mistook her for desperate.
Brinna was anything but desperate.
She was braver than he.
And she was resourceful.
But he was still her brother, and he’d do what was necessary to see her and his niece safe and cared for.
“I am sure the king already employs the finest bladesmiths in the kingdom, and if he doesn’t, I am sure there are many who covet the position who are far better suited than I.”
“I am sure he could use one more,” he argued.
Brinna laughed. “And what do you know of what the king needs?”
Darius downed a healthy swig of his own wine, regretting it the moment the bitter fruit hit his tongue, and stared into the fire.
“Brother?” she prompted, eyes narrowed.
He breathed deep, inhaling the familiar scent of home, letting it seep into his bones and settle in his soul. He let it fortify the foundation of who he was and remembered who he was talking to. He had nothing to fear. “The king and I are lovers.” He spoke softly, but Brinna heard.
“You…and King Phares?” she whispered, disbelief and awe lending an extra breathy quality to her voice. “That is…dangerous.”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d expected her to say. He expected surprise. Shock, even. But not a warning. “What do you mean?”
“The king is a target. Anyone with that kind of power is always a target. And you are right beside him. Please, Darius, reconsider.”
Her plea tore at him. He had not considered that being with Phares would put him in danger. What would happen to Brinna and Calista if he were unable to provide for them? What was he to do? “I do not know that I can give him up,” he said with his heart in his throat. Confessing his weakness to his sister put him in a precarious position. He did not want to disappoint her, did not want to see the censure in her eyes. But he would not lie to her.
Brinna gripped his hand. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”
“No matter. I will make sure you and Calista are taken care of. Whatever may befall me.”
Brinna reared back. “What? What are you talking about? You think I worry about silver? I worry about you, brother!”
Darius opened his mouth but Brinna got there first.
“No. I do not want to hear whatever self-sacrificing nonsense you are about to present to me. Aside from Calista, you are all I have that is of any value in this world, and I would not have you taken from me. Not even by the king. Not by anybody.” She folded her arms over her chest, her face set with a mulish expression.
“I think I love him,” he whispered, desperate for her to see that he truly had no choice in his circumstances. Not because the king commanded it, but because his heart did.
“Oh, Darius,” she sighed, her fac
e softening. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Coincidentally, so did he.
Chapter 8
“Claudio! See to the men. Make sure they have everything they need.”
“My king,” Claudio replied in acknowledgment before breaking off from the rest of the regiment, leading his horse and his men toward the stables.
The horses were tended to first. The men then went in search of a bath, food, sleep, or a fuck, whichever appealed to them the greatest.
Phares handed his mount to a servant at the gate and strode up the steps of the palace, intent on finding Darius. He was of the mind that a fuck should come first, followed by a bath and another fuck. Time away from his reliant had set him on edge. He’d managed to stomp out the rebellion that had been brewing in Quellin with little violence and only a few maimings. The alleged instigator of the failed uprising was currently being escorted to the palace dungeon for an extended stay. He’d deal with her later.
He stalked toward his chambers, hoping to find Darius within. He was not in the mood to go searching for him when his cock needed him so desperately.
Unfortunately, his quarters, including the reliant’s rooms, were devoid of life. “Bring me my reliant!” he bellowed into the hall, knowing some servant or another in the vicinity would hear him and carry out the task. He paced the room, his agitation growing with each second Darius wasn’t within reach. “Where is he?” he muttered.
Minutes ticked by.
Too many of them.
Storming out of the room, Phares made his way to the baths first, but he did not find Darius. Nor was he in the kitchens. His fruitless search made him uneasy. And beastly.
“You there!” he shouted at a young woman sweeping the corridor. “Where is my reliant?”
The girl’s chin dropped. “I-I do not know, my king.”
He growled as he continued past her, heading for the courtyard. “Darius!” he hollered.
“My king?” the young guard queried, approaching him at a clip.
“What?” Phares barked.
The guard executed a hasty, shallow bow. “Your reliant, sir. I saw him leave through the main gate three days ago.”
Phares scowled. His body strung tight, ready for action. Ready to chase down Darius wherever he may be. “Where was he going?”
“I’m afraid I do not know. He said nothing. He took a horse and very little, if any, provisions with him. That is all I know.”
“Fetch me a horse,” he ordered. He had not even had time to change out of his dusty, bloody leathers, and for that he was grateful. He would waste no time.
“Yes, my king.” The guard set off toward the stables just as Claudio approached.
“My king? What is it?”
Phares turned toward his older and most trusted friend. “Darius is missing.”
Claudio blinked. “Missing?”
“The guards report he’s been gone three days. I’m going in search of him.”
“I’ll come with you.” Claudio raised a hand to catch the attention of a passing guard.
“No. I need you to stay here. Continue to see to the men. If I don’t return within the week, I need you to maintain order in my stead until I do return.” He didn’t add ‘with Darius’ because it was unnecessary. It was the only option. He would not return without him.
The moment the guard returned with a fresh horse, Phares swung himself up and urged the steed into a gallop toward the main gates. The gates swung open but before he could pass through, another horse and rider came barreling in. Phares caught sight of the other rider and immediately redirected his horse back inside the perimeter. He ducked low, urging his horse to run faster, nipping at the hindquarters of the horse in front of him, chasing it and its rider all the way to the stables.
Both riders dismounted, and Phares charged, tackling the other man into a mound of hay and ignoring the spectators that were beginning to gather. “Where have you been?” he growled, nose to nose with Darius.
“My king,” Darius panted, wincing when Phares’s fingers tightened in the hair that curled around his neck.
“I asked you a question, reliant. I demand an answer.” He felt absolutely feral. His worry abated, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, now for a very different reason.
Darius was aroused.
Phares could feel his thick length pressed against him, and the knowledge spurred his own arousal. If Darius wasn’t careful, Phares would flip him over and bury himself inside like a rutting animal, right there in the stables for everyone to see. The idea excited him further. He relished the idea of staking his claim on Darius in public.
“My king,” Darius repeated.
Phares narrowed his eyes.
“Phares,” Darius corrected himself. “I journeyed to Janabba. To visit my sister.”
“I distinctly remember issuing you an order before I left.”
Darius was smart enough to recognize the danger he was in and set about attempting to soothe his king and lover. “Brinna needed me,” he said softly.
“I needed you,” the king bit out. “When I returned. You were not here.”
“I—“
“You went alone?”
A swallow moved its way down Darius’s throat. “I did.”
Phares’s jaw clenched so hard he was in danger of cracking a tooth. “I will punish you,” he warned.
Darius’s eyes widened fractionally, but Phares cooed his next words.
“I will make sure you enjoy it.”
Darius’s eyes darted past Phares, taking in the gathering crowd. “My king,” he murmured.
“Do you wish for me to take you here, reliant? Do you want everyone to know, without a doubt, that you belong to me?”
Darius’s eyes darkened, and Phares smiled. “You shall have your wish, Darius,” he rasped in his ear before catching it between his teeth and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark.
His mark.
On his property.
He shoved his hand into the front of Darius’s pants, gripping his cock and stroking. “I will make you mine in front of them all, but they will not see you. You are only for me.”
Darius grinned at his promise. “You are the king,” he teased, giving Phares permission to do as he pleased.
His submission was exactly what Phares needed. His surrender fueled his need. He would take his lover, but he would take him in the comfort of their bed. For now, he would lay claim to him in another way. A way that was less intimate than being inside him, but no less personal. A way that could not be misunderstood.
With Darius’s cock in his hand, he stroked him from root to tip, his thumb circling the head, spreading the moisture that had escaped.
Darius wiggled his hips, silently begging for more. Phares gave him what he needed, relenting when Darius hissed, drawing out the torture and the pleasure.
“Phares,” Darius moaned. “Do not deny me. Please,” he begged.
Phares was not a soft man, but he could not resist the plea of the man he desired above all others underneath him, aching for his touch.
When Darius spilled his seed into Phares’s hands, he groaned his king’s name, a sound Phares wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life.
Phares wiped his hands on a horse blanket, which was quickly taken by one of the grooms to the laundry facilities. The crowd that had gathered had dispersed, many of them before Darius found completion, but the few that had lingered, whether out of curiosity or because their own proclivities included voyeurism, finally wandered off, likely to slake their own thirst for an orgasm.
Phares helped Darius to his feet and adjusted his pants for him, another consideration he’d never shown anyone else. He may show tenderness to his lover, but he was still angry over his defiance, and Darius would learn that Phares would grant no leeway when it came to Darius’s safety.
So he did what a king always does when he demands obedience. He issued orders. �
��We will bathe now. After, we will eat. Then, we will fuck.”
Darius arched an eyebrow. “In that order?”
“Do not test me, Darius.”
“You are still angry,” he accused.
No, Phares was not angry. He’d been…scared. And he’d hated it. It was a sensation that had not plagued him since he was a child. He never wanted to feel that way ever again. “You will learn, and learn quickly, Darius. I will not abide your disobedience if it puts your life at risk.”
Darius’s expression grew serious. “I told you. My sister needed me.”
“And that is something you will explain later. Right now, you will give me what I need.”
“What do you need, Phares?”
“You. Your body. Your heart. Your very soul, Darius. You will give me all of you. I will accept no less.”
“You ask for much.”
“I am king. I ask for nothing. I take.”
Darius swayed toward him, not at all deterred by Phares’s insistence that Darius belonged to him. “Then take me, Phares. I am yours.”
Phares growled, grabbing ahold of Darius’s linen shirt and pulling him in for a wet, wild kiss. Their hands scrambled for purchase, touching everywhere they could reach.
“Let me bathe you,” Darius panted. “Let me clean the dirt and blood from your body. Let me wash away the days we have spent apart.”
The aching need that already hung heavy in his leathers hardened further. “Yes,” he rumbled, dragging Darius by the hand toward the servants’ entrance that would lead them to the baths without having to traipse through the palace first. Once they entered the citadel, they began to run. They couldn’t get there fast enough.
Clothing was torn in their haste to get each other naked. Grappling for dominance in their quest to love each other, they fell into the pool of clean water, both of them laughing as they came up for air.
Sobering, Darius wrapped himself around Phares like a vine. “I am sorry I worried you.”
Phares’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. Closing his eyes, he wrapped Darius in his arms and held him tight. “Do not do it again,” he rasped into his neck.
Darius sighed. “You were not here. I could not…I did not think…”
