Playing With Fire (3 page)

A cool, soft hand stroked his cheek. “Do you thirst?”

He tried to answer, but could not, his throat too dry. Was this another dream?

Cool water brushed his lips. “Open for me, sweet one. Open for Sartis.”

Oh, it was a dream. Such gentle hands, such sweet cool water and the soft voice—what could it be if not a dream? Wintras opened his mouth, moaning. Water dripped into his lips, blessedly sweet, sliding over his parched tongue. He swallowed it eagerly, moaning as it hit his throat. He blinked, struggling to focus. This was no dream.

Dark eyes stared at him, so close, as water slid into his mouth. He blinked up at his benefactor, wondering who this was who dared to defy Zujan. Or was it the dungeons that were a dream? Another drink was offered, lips sweet and cool, gentle. He moaned again, confused, but so thirsty he would not refuse the water.

Hands combed through his hair, smoothing it, warmth against him. He pressed close to the warmth before moving away again, trying to sit, to figure out where he was and what was going on.

The water came again, along with a slow, seductive kiss. He sucked the water from the hot mouth, pressed close before tearing away again.

Where?

What?

Who?

“Shh…” Heat and softness surrounded him on every side, a sweet, warm drink pressed to his lips now. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to sink into this dream and drink and be warm and ease his spirit, but he didn’t know what was real, and he’d been fighting so hard.

Zujan! He pulled himself up and tried to see his anonymous benefactor once more.

“No more fighting. Just rest.” Hands eased him down, soothing, warming him.

“But…” His body betrayed him, melting into the warmth and comfort even as his mind told him to fight, to be strong. He could not. He was weak, tired and cold and thirsty and dying of hunger.

The warm drink was offered again, soothing his hunger, easing his pain, relaxing him deep within. He floated in the warmth, belly no longer screaming, throat and mouth no longer in such pain. He decided that this must be a fever dream, and he didn’t want to wake from it, didn’t want to be cold and hungry and thirsty in Zujan’s dungeon.

Blankets covered him, soft music soothing him as he sank into dreams.

Chapter Two

Rall sat, watching the interloper sleep. His master had said to watch the newcomer, to make sure the prince was fed and bathed and pleasured, made comfortable and safe, much as he had been. It was Zujan’s way, to mingle pleasure and pain, hope and despair, until one must cling to Zujan himself, hoping for answers. The prince was lovely—blond and strong and golden. Rall looked down at his own nut-brown body, slight and well-known. It would not be long before his status as favorite slipped, and he would be dressed and primped and sent back to the cold lands of his father.

It wasn’t fair, he didn’t want to return, to rule, to be the Heir Apparent. He wanted to spend his nights in Zujan’s bed, hearing the soft voice call him “Pet.” He wanted to feel Zujan’s shaft part his lips. He wanted to have the harem boys bow to him, acknowledge his position as favored.

Well… Maybe he wanted to rule a little.

Rall chuckled at himself, standing to go take a closer look at the prince, the new little pet, Zujan’s slave.

The prince moaned softly, shifting on the bed, the silk covers sliding away from the golden skin. Days of refusing food and water had left the prince a little gaunt, but it did nothing to hide the lean muscles of Wintras’ belly, the strong thighs, the long shaft between them.

Rall took a drink of the cool water mixed with attar of alliset then filled his lips again and placed them against the prince’s, offering the man a drink. The alliset made the fire of passion blaze, his master gave it to all of them in the water, assuring their pleasure and Zujan’s amusement.

Wintras’ mouth opened beneath his lips, the prince’s mouth still parched for liquid. Rall fed Wintras one drink after another, tongue sliding in to taste. The amazing dark blue eyes blinked open, a soft moan meeting his tongue. “Who?” The prince blinked, looking dazed, aroused, confused. It was a delicious sensation.

“Shh…You are safe. It is only me, come to help you heal.” Rall offered another drink, trusting in Wintras’ hungers.

Wintras accepted the drink eagerly, sucking on his tongue this time when he slipped it in. “I thought you were a fever-dream.”

“No. Your fever is gone.” His hand slid over Wintras’ belly, petting gently. “More water?”

“Who are you?” The prince asked, but his body was reacting to the touch, his mouth lifting for more.

“Another prince, like yourself.” He smiled, took another kiss. “One day we might be friends, sitting across a banquet table.”

Wintras beamed at him. “You rescued me! I knew someone would.”

“You were brought from the dungeons. You were cold, sick, starving. You needed care.” His fingers slid down farther, wrapping around Wintras’ heavy cock, touching.

“Brought?” Wintras frowned and then moaned, distracted by his touch. The prince pushed up into his hand.

“Mmm…that’s right. You can need, sweet prince.” Rall bent, tongue sliding over the tip.

More sounds met that, the prince’s body rippling, hips driving the hard shaft into his mouth. Rall groaned, eager, wanton, his own need sparked. A trembling hand slid through his hair, holding his head in place as the prince gave himself over to the need coursing through him.

Oh, strong. Sure. Rall purred, opening wide, sucking hard. Wintras whimpered, hips moving faster, pushing harder, the arousal from the alliset strong, all encompassing. Rall knew, he could feel it in his own veins, setting him on fire. He cupped the prince’s heavy balls, careful not to touch behind. That prize belonged to another, to his master.

“Oh!” The prince cried out for him, prick throbbing as it emptied down his throat. Rall pumped his own shaft as he swallowed, hand working furiously. The prince sank back onto the bed, panting, gasping, little shivers rocking the long body. He moved to lie against the warm body, rubbing, needing, so very close.

“Rall! Did I give you leave to spend?” Zujan’s voice snapped across the room.

The prince gasped and scrambled up, pushing into the corner with a silk sheet to cover himself. “You! No!”

Rall looked back, almost panicking before understanding that this was yet another game for his beloved. He threw himself into Wintras’ arms, shivering, sobbing. “Don’t let him hurt me. Please.”

“What?” Wintras looked confused, but the prince’s arms went around him, and he was pushed to “safety” behind the prince’s body. “So he is not free after all.”

He met Zujan’s gaze, the dark eyes amused and well-pleased. “Oh, he is free, little prince. Free and spoiled and in need of discipline.”

“He cowers from you. Who can blame him—you are a monster.” The prince’s voice was harsh, his words missing their earlier conviction. The lack of sustenance and the drugs were no doubt leaving him confused.

“He cowers from my whip, dear boy.” Zujan chuckled, leaned against the wall. The slender form was beautiful in black leather, hair down and curling about the perfectly formed body, dark jewels catching the sunlight.

“Please, Master. Do not whip me” Rall turned to Wintras. “Do not allow him to whip me. Please.”

“You claim he is free, Zujan. Prove it. Leave him alone.” The prince obviously thought himself strong, thought he was being a protector.

“You claim you would sacrifice yourself for those weaker than you. Submit to me willingly for a full cycle of the moon, and I will do as you ask for him.”

Wintras gasped, body jerking, going stiff. Then the prince turned and looked at Rall.

He looked back, eyes pleading then Zujan spoke again. “Agree, and I will return him to his father, unharmed.”

Rall gasped, jerked, eyes filling with tears.

“Done.” The prince smiled at him. “You are a slave no longer.” The hand on his shoulder was gentle, warm, and then Wintras was turning back to Zujan. “Now, we will find out if you are a man of your word, Zujan.”

“I am, indeed.”

The tears splashed upon Rall’s cheeks, soft sobs coming as Zujan’s dark eyes fastened on him.

“I will have a carriage readied for you, Prince Rall of the North. You have served me well.”

Wintras beamed at Rall, hugging him tightly. “You are free! Look at him, Zujan, he is so relieved he cries tears of joy. It is well worth my sacrifice.”

“Indeed.” Zujan held one hand out to Rall. “Come, Prince Rall. Let us find you clothing and jewels and my final gifts to you.” Those dark eyes met Wintras’. “You will join us this evening at the prince’s farewell banquet.”

Rall’s heart was broken, his sobs constant.

“As you command, so will I do.” Wintras’ voice was tight. “Until the moon is again full.”

“That is right, pretty pet, and come willing.” Zujan took Rall’s hand, fingers ice cold. “Now, Prince Rall, come with me.”

Rall went, managing to not press close until the door closed. “Master, please!”

“Shh…” The cold hand stroked his jaw. “You have pleased me in all things, pet. You and I will be allies for all time, as your father and I were, and your grandfather.”

“I have served you in all things, I have denied you nothing. Why are you punishing me?”

“Do not question me, sweet pet.” Those eyes met his. “Your time here was up when the moon faded, your contract filled.”

Rall went to his knees, accepting his Lord’s will in this as all else, though it broke his heart, perhaps more so because he knew the one who replaced him was unwilling. “I love you, Master Zujan.”

A soft chuckle sounded. “I know, pet, and I will receive you as often as you appear. Come, let me fill you, hear you beg one last time.”

His heart leapt, as did his prick. “As my master wishes.”

* * * *

Wintras paced from one end of the small room to the other. He was warm; he’d been fed and watered, pleasured. When he’d said he would refuse those things from Zujan. At least he knew he had not made the bargain while under the influence of hunger and thirst. He had saved poor Rall, who had been so kind to him, who had saved him, from more torture at Zujan’s hands.

He tried the door and found it open, but a guard stood on the other side of it.

“His Lordship said you were not to be disturbed until it was time to take you to the banquet.”

Which Wintras translated as, despite Zujan’s word you are still a prisoner within this room. At least it was warmer than the dark, damp dungeon. Though, as he had told Zujan, a gilded cage was nonetheless a cage. And there by his own word or no, he was still a prisoner. He explored his cage.

The walls were quite bare, a single, small flame burned in the hearth. There was a chair by the fire and the bed along the wall with its silken sheets. That was it.

Perhaps this cage was not so gilded after all.

He went back to the door and pulled it open, a little surprised it still yielded to him. “Where are my clothes?” he asked the guard.

“If the master wants you to have some, they’ll be brought.”

Wintras stared at the guard, waiting for him to laugh. The man did not. He closed the door, sinking to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. He had promised Zujan a full lunar cycle. What had he done?

He had saved Rall from more suffering, more servitude to Zujan. That was what he had done. It was the right thing.

Wintras straightened and went to the bed, tearing one of the sheets in half and tying the ends together around one shoulder. It was an ill-fitting robe, but it covered him.

A tiny slip of a lad wearing the ubiquitous tunic popped in, eyes shining, blond hair mussed. “Master has sent me to bathe you and get you ready for the banquet.”

He looked around. “I see no bath.”

Just because he had agreed to be Zujan’s slave did not mean he needed to be gracious and seeing another of Zujan’s slaves, and this one so young, brought his anger back to the fore.

“Uh. No. The tubs are in the bathing chambers.” He got another smile. “Do you sleep where you bathe at your home?”

“In the winters, yes—we keep to the main rooms with the big fires. I didn’t expect to be allowed out of my cage for the bath,” he admitted. It was hard to stay angry when the only person to let it out on was this lovely imp.

“Oh, the cages only come out when Master has a big party and dresses the boys like birds.” His hand was taken and he was led out of the room.

He spluttered, but he could think of nothing to say in reply to that, remembering the boys mounted on the walls like hunting trophies.

The boy’s hand was small and warm and, frankly, comforting. Rall’s attentions had saved his life, but they had been wrapped in fevered dreams and a haze. This boy’s touch was sweet, soothing. Suddenly he missed his home very much.

“Cook has made all sorts of sweets, she sent samples at lunch. You’re very lucky. The bath is drawn, and I’m the very best at hair washing. I wash the master’s hair.”

“You don’t have to serve me… What’s your name?”

“Patin. And I don’t mind working. I like washing. It’s so much better than freezing.”

“Were those your choices, Patin?” he asked sadly.

“Well, where Master’s guard found me? Yes. Ma and Da had got the plague and were rotten, and Master had me and Win and Lacy and Kat in to learn to wash and cook and stuff.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about your parents, Patin.” There wasn’t much more he could say than that, was there? It certainly didn’t fit with the image he’d made of Zujan. Of course, the man hadn’t rescued the boys into a life of luxury, but one of servitude. So it wasn’t as if the man had suddenly risen to sainthood.

Wintras tried to watch the way they were going, but Patin seemed to be winding this way and snaking that way, and Wintras was totally and entirely lost.

Patin finally opened a door to a room with a huge copper tub, filled with steaming water. “Here we are! Hop in.”

Oh. Oh, a bath. A
bath
. Hot water, soap.
Clean
. He was so dirty. It had been days since he’d washed, and he’d been in that dingy dungeon for most of it.