High Priest S’Rak and Captain Jisten’s relationship continues to deepen and mature as the pair learns to trust each other and work together to keep the prince, and the kingdom, safe. After foiling another attempt on Prince Jethain’s life, a sacred infant is brought to the palace seeking sanctuary. A Valer girl has been born with the rare violet eyes of sunset, and thus, sacred to Zotien as well as Si’Yeni. Considered an ill omen by the Koilathans, a group of fanatic sun zealots will stop at nothing to kill the baby.
Will S’Rak’s night-born powers, at their lowest ebb, be able to counter the attacks of sun zealots who only ever attack in the bright light of day? Will Jisten’s protective fierceness mean the difference between life and death for the defenseless infant?
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Rak padded into the luxuriously appointed bathroom on bare, silent feet. Jisten was leaning against a marble basin set beneath a silvered mirror. White lather covered the lower half of his face and a gleaming steel razor was in his hand. Impishly, Rak came up behind him and plucked the blade from his fingers.
“What are you doing?” Jisten asked as Rak took the razor. “Tradition requires that childless men be clean shaven, and I want to show my support of Jethain, regardless.”
“Allow me,” Rak purred. His own face didn’t have a single stray hair as it had all been permanently removed when he was made a sex slave. His eyebrows and hairline had escaped that purge, but even they had been artfully sculpted.
“Very well.” Jisten lay down on the padded massage bench and stretched his head back, baring his neck.
Rak fingered the lather on Jisten’s face. “Oil?”
“Only partly,” Jisten confessed. “Too much and the razor slips. I’d prefer to let the revolutionaries slit my throat rather than doing it myself. It’s a mixture of oil, soap and herbs that my mother taught me the recipe for.”
Rak delicately ran the razor up the side of Jisten’s neck. “I think that I would be most disappointed if you cut your own throat shaving.”
“That makes four people in this world who feel that way, counting myself.”
“You always discount yourself. More people care about you besides Jethain, your mother and I.” Rak continued to shave the neck. “Sedrael, Kordri and Kal would also miss you.”
Jisten hummed his agreement.
Rak reached the tricky part of the neck and slowed down, concentrating on the work. He smoothly maneuvered the razor over and around without incident. Finished with the neck, Rak planted a few kisses on the soft skin before he started on the jaw.
Jisten lazily traced his fingers up and down Rak’s wings.
Rak smiled and spread his closer wing for the captain to reach better.
Jisten’s touch grew more sensuous.
“Keep that up and I might not manage to finish this.” Rak chuckled softly.
“Shaving just became a lower priority,” Jisten said in a low tone. He was dressed only in his wrap.
Rak hmm’d as his eyes wandered down the man’s length.
Jisten helpfully stretched, arching his back and raising his arms over his head.
Rak carefully set the straight razor down before he ran hands over that muscular torso. “Forget shaving,” he muttered.
Jisten smiled. “I win.”
“I think we both win,” replied Rak in a serious tone.
“You get the short end of the stick. I get a high priest.” Jisten brought his arms back down and pulled Rak close.
Rak wiped the lather off Jisten’s face and kissed those delectable lips. “Short? Oh, Jisten, you are so wrong.”
Jisten kissed back, tightening his arms around Rak.
Once the long kiss was over, Rak teasingly said, “I imagine you used to always show up for work early.”
“Used to be nothing in bed worth staying for.”
“I am such a bad influence on you.” Rak winked and stroked that bulge in the wrap.
Jisten’s hands slid down Rak’s wings and underneath Rak’s wrap.
Rak made a pleased noise and pressed himself again Jisten even more.
Jisten squeezed Rak’s buttocks against himself.
“I think I want you now,” Rak told him.
“What? Unshaven and all?”
Rak rubbed his cheek against Jisten’s. “Mmm. Stubble.”
Jisten dropped Rak’s wrap on the ground. “Oh, I cannot seem to remove mine.”
“Whatever will we do? We cannot let you die of unrequited lust.” Rak slid down and tugged that wrap off with his teeth.
Jisten moved his hips helpfully. The wrap didn’t last long under those conditions. Once he was nude, Jisten flipped Rak onto his back on the bench. “I have you now,” he intoned gravely.
Rak’s wings spread and beat a few times in a parody of someone trying to get away. “Oh, mercy, mercy.”
“Never!” Jisten’s cry was melodramatic, and he dipped his head down to toy with one of Rak’s nipple rings with his mouth.
Rak gasped and squirmed. “Ohhhh. You tease, you!”
Jisten kept his tongue on the nipple ring but looked up at Rak with mischievous grey eyes and waggled his eyebrows.
Rak grinned down at him, his hands ruffling Jisten’s loose hair.
Jisten’s tongue played with that ring until it was Rak’s back that arched. Then, Jisten switched to the other nipple.
Rak’s wings beat against the floor as he squirmed beneath Jisten.
The Valer’s hands slid around Rak to rub against the undersides of Rak’s wingbases.
Rak’s cry of lust and need echoed from the marble walls.
Jisten reached down and scooped Rak’s legs up, pushing the limbs toward Rak’s chest. The Loftoni cooperated, grabbing his own calves to free Jisten’s hands. Jisten looked down at Rak for a moment, just admiring the naked figure which writhed in need before him.
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