A Royal Craving (13 page)

Davian did not truly know what Parry meant, until later. After he had given in to the incredibly sensual way the Prince kissed him and moved his hands over his body. Well after the soft words and encouragements he received, as Parry taught him what to do.

Davian lost himself to Parry's eyes, words, and the way he took care of him. They started with sensual, hungry kisses that let him relax. Until the Prince took his hand and led a trail into the unknown.

His heart jumped into his throat the moment he knew what Parry planned, but he trusted him. He let the Prince guide him and talk him through what he needed to know.

His bare palm brushed Parry's shaft on the way and the groan the Prince let slip gave him confidence to continue.

Davian brushed his fingertip against Parry's hole a few times. Slicked with some form of lubricant, which he had forgotten was necessary, he let out a sigh of relief. He had never intended for this to happen, when he walked through the door. He had simply wanted to know what it was like to share a real kiss, but this proved much more enticing.

When he pushed his finger inside, Parry panted and moaned in arousal. It stole his breath to know he could do that to this incredible man.

They stayed that way for a while, as Davian used that finger to stroke and tease his partner, moving to a sure rhythm through two and three fingers. The way Parry put him before all else had him spellbound. He had feared his Prince would wish to dominate him and, no matter how enticing or how he felt, he could not have allowed that.

When his bravery deserted him and Davian hesitated, Parry waited.

“Do not be afraid,” he whispered, holding him close and tenderly kissing his mouth. “We do not need to rush. We are not bound to this night. I will wait however long you need me to,” he promised, his words followed by another teasing, swift kiss.

His words drove all thought from Davian's mind, until all that existed was Parry. He could not believe how incredibly intoxicating it felt to know he had the power to say no. To think that this man, a vampire and a Prince, would wait until he was more confident seemed like a dream.

But then Parry kissed him again and the hesitation and doubt fled. He basked in the surety of his Master's touch and his never wavering support.

When Parry reached the point where fingers were not enough, Davian's nerves kicked in again, as he realised he did not know how to properly proceed. His Master rutted against his hip, causing friction for them both, as Davian worked him loose.

“Please,” Parry begged, grasping his arm.

Davian knew he could run away and lose the Prince forever, or give in to the erotic images in his head and the desires his own people told him were wrong. But what could be wrong, when his entire body screamed out for his Master? He made a choice, took a deep breath and did not hesitate. If he thought too long on what could be happening, he would not see it through.

He removed his fingers and replaced them with the head of his achingly hard cock. He pushed in gently at first, fighting the instinct to let his eyes roll back in delight. How long had he dreamed and prayed for this moment? Now that it was real, he could hardly breathe.

He wanted to give his partner time to adjust, but Parry seemed to have other ideas.

“More,” his Master pleaded.

Davian did as he wished; he slowly pushed all the way in, until his heavy, full balls rested against Parry's cheeks. He wanted to wait for a sign or something from his Master to say he could move, but found he had no patience. He pulled out and pushed in, adding an angle to his thrust that made Parry groan long and hard.

In retaliation, two strong hands grabbed his rear in encouragement.

Seeing Parry laid out like an offering of sex, blood and hard muscle, Davian could not contain himself. He began thrusting slowly, satisfying their need for one another with a lingering desire to bring the body beneath him to complete and utter incoherence. He wanted Parry hard, desperate, and so fulfilled by their love that he could not breathe.

Over-stimulated from Parry's feeding and the intensity of these new sensations, he could not hold back any longer. Davian's orgasm ripped through his body, exploding in a flash of ecstasy and understanding. He sagged against the Prince, his hips continuing the delightful assault on the Prince's body that he could not control.

Though his pleasure made the moment real again, and his first instinct was to panic at what he had done, Davian forced those emotions deep down where he could not hear them. He tried hard to ignore his own pleasure and focus on proving to Parry that he would not always be scared and he would not always run.

H
eaven. Parry could not think of a better word to describe what had happened tonight.

He turned over and snuggled into Davian's body, after a long night of pleasurable activities. He had never thought the lad capable of such passion. Yet, here they were, lying in the privacy of his bedroom and his human had chosen not to run from him. For the first time in two months.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Nearly one in the morning and he could feel Davian's exhaustion through the touch of gentle fingers in his hair. He had never known how intimate that touch could be until now.

“Will you stay with me, this day?” Parry asked, though he faced a heartbreaking goodbye, if it did not go to plan.

“Do you wish me to?” his human asked.

“Very much,” he promised, nudging into the crook of his shoulder.
That question delighted him. He had feared that he must watch Davian leave, despite their night of passion. “I would wish for you to never leave my side. You are my life mate and I cannot live without you,” he swore.

The room fell into a lingering silence until he feared he had pushed too far.

Then Davian shuffled out from under him and turned onto his side, facing him uncertainly. “Is that what Spencer told you to say?” he asked, with an expression Parry did not understand.

“He suggested I confess my feelings or lose you,” he admitted that much, but would not be happy if Davian thought he would say such a thing because he had been commanded to.

No vampire, no matter how pessimistic or cruel, would lie about a life mate bond. Just to contemplate the lie could curse them for eternity.

And he would never lie to Davian.

“In a way, he suggested the same to me,” Davian revealed, with a sigh. “He told me that if I wanted to kiss you then I should, whether you wished me to or not,” he confessed, with a blush and a happy smile.

“And I agree,” Parry promised, approving of Spencer's encouragement. He shifted into a more comfortable position and watched his lover closely. “Is it true that you believed me incapable of emotion?” he wondered.

“No, I swear.” Davian panicked, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It is true there are rumours that a vampire is incapable of loving a human. And, it is true I believed them, for a time. But the day I met Spencer, he told me that it was not true. That Prosper loves him and then…then I saw it with my own eyes,” he explained, looking lost.

Parry held his human's hand to his cheek and turned to place a kiss in the palm. “I am not angry. It would make sense of your hesitance to be alone with me.” He swore that he had not judged him for believing the rumours.

For too long, he had deemed humans inferior and unworthy of his time or attention; love had never been a consideration. It seemed only fair that his life mate be a human.

“I recall you said you did not wish to discuss it,” Parry began, hopeful that he would not ruin the special moment they shared. “but I must tell you that I have loved you for some time. I could not accept it, because I feared I could not be a good life mate. I have not always thought well of humans or treated them as they deserved,” he continued, swallowing hard.

Davian pressed a finger to his lips, before he could speak. “I do not care for your past,” he said. “I have never witnessed you with another. I have never heard you speak of another and, in your eyes, I see that you love me as deeply as I love you,” he explained, caressing his cheek with his thumb.

“You love me?” Parry asked, adoring the sound of those words on his lips.

“We are life mates, are we not?” Davian grinned and leaned in to kiss his lips.

Parry responded lightly, aware of his lover's fatigue. It had taken all of Davian's courage to approach him tonight, so Parry broke away and lay his head on the pillow. “Sleep, and in the evening, we shall get to know one another as life mates should,” he promised, aching to feed the hunger inside, that craved every piece of knowledge it could get. He wanted to know Davian the way he knew his brother; to know everything about him, until they were one person.

P
rosper rejoiced in time alone with Spencer, knowing his lover was safe and unharmed. It may have been their third night together, but their bond sizzled with intensity.

He had been preoccupied with the possibilities of being alone together all night. Prosper lost himself to the motion of walking to the room.

Spencer lay his head against his shoulder, silently accepting that his tired feet could not have got him this far.

Prosper continued straight into the bathroom and used his mind to remove their clothes. He did not have the patience to undress as a human; his sole priority became ensuring his companion's well being.

“I am cold,” Spencer whispered, by his ear.

“You will not be for long,” Prosper promised, as he descended the three steps into the bath set into the floor. He continued walking, until he reached the corner of the room, where the water reached his abdomen. He sat on the ledge and sank into the glorious heat, with Spencer in his arms.

His delicate human shivered and cuddled against his chest. “Much better,” he professed, curling up in his lap.

A few moments of peaceful silence followed, as they let the water soak away his companion's aches and pains.

Prosper used gentle hands to brush the dried blood from his skin.

Spencer hummed and tilted his head, exposing his long, elegant neck to his gaze.

Tempted, Prosper kissed the inviting skin. He loved the way Spencer tilted his head back, as though granting access if he wanted to feed. Which he did. Badly.

He let his hands wander over Spencer's perfect, unblemished skin. He caressed strong pectoral muscles, deceptively strong biceps and danced his fingers over tight abs, that showed off his companion's ribs too easily.

Prosper kissed his pulse and ran the tip of his tongue over the same spot, enjoying the sense of Spencer's blood rushing to the spot.

He brushed his tongue over the spot one last time, before biting into Spencer's delectable flesh. A moan escaped him; feeding from his lover proved too good not to vocalise.

Spencer held the back of his head, holding Prosper to his neck, as he cured his hunger. Thoughts and emotions tumbled through his head.

He had seen much that night; Elenor and Asher's love, as they looked at each other over the heads of their twin boys; Elenor's pain as she screamed and pushed out two little bodies. There had been more blood and pain than Spencer had ever imagined involved with childbirth, but it did not frighten him. Not now. Now, Spencer knew he would not be alone.

It was heavenly to know that Spencer praised their relationship for letting him see the world through different eyes.

Prosper wanted to thank him, but his companion's blood pulsed faster, so addictive that he could not resist.

He heard a gasp and felt fingers tightening in his hair, until Prosper closed his eyes to the sensation. A rush of words fell into his head, as he drank.

He was no longer afraid, because of Prosper. His King did not see a child or nineteen-year-old boy, but a man. A man who had the right to a life and love of his own. A man who deserved to be loved and adored.

Spencer wished to be that man for him.

Spencer wound his fingers in his hair, at the base of his neck, gasping, as Prosper pulled away and licked the wound clean.

Prosper could not stop smiling. Hearing Spencer's thoughts was addictive. He had only previously experienced the phenomenon with Parry. It had never been as strong as what he experienced with Spencer.

He looked over his companion's beautiful pale skin, watching the mingled clash of dried and fresh blood being washed away by the bath water. He mentally removed the blood, letting it evaporate, to keep the water clean.

Spencer kissed his chin and covered Prosper's hand as it rested on his stomach, trying to remove the dried in blood. “I want a family,” he whispered.

Prosper pulled back. He watched the flush fill Spencer's cheeks, as he stared back.

“I am not asking for one immediately, but you need not be afraid of me. I will not break,” he promised, cupping his scarred cheek and kissing his lips.

Speechless, the prospects flooded Prosper's brain. The tormenting images that had bombarded him since he first kissed his companion now seemed possible. But still, he did not want to rush this or hurt his delicate human. He tried to be sensible.

“I am not convinced it is possible. And if it were, I cannot turn you,” Prosper warned that there were consequences to every choice.

Spencer shook his head, in confusion.

“It is too dangerous to turn someone carrying a child. And, as I am uncertain if it is physically possible for you to get pregnant, I would not wish to take the chance,” Prosper apologised, trying to prepare them for the inevitable disappointment. “Only the most ancient bloodlines are capable of carrying a child, as a male. Turning you would rob that opportunity from us. But, if there is a chance, it will be while you are human,” he continued, wanting him to be aware of the risks.

To his relief, Spencer thought about it. “I can live with that.”

Prosper could not get over the fact that this incredible young man wished to have a life and a family with him. Knowing how difficult it would be, how dangerous, and that it could not be guaranteed, Spencer seemed ready to accept whatever lay ahead.

In return for his honesty, Prosper explained, “I have never known a vampire, in at least one or two hundred years, to have a child of their own.”

He worried that he could never give Spencer the family he longed for, from his own flesh and blood. Like the humans had bred out sickness and disability, they had bred out reproductive abilities. Only their actions had been done through ignorance and war.

“I am sure that it can be done,” Spencer said, sitting side on, against his chest, while rubbing his thumb against the palm of his hand.

Prosper lifted his left hand and kissed the spot that he continued to touch, only to notice the cross carved into it. “I have noticed this before. What is it?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Spencer confessed, with a light shrug. “The prophetess swore that she would not require payment, if I allowed her to keep secrets from me,” he explained, with a calmness that belied his confusion.

“Did she lie?” Prosper wondered, intrigued by the markings that looked deep and painful. Yet, he had never once seen his companion complaining of pain or discomforting in that hand.

“I am not certain.” Spencer chuckled. “When she finished, she pricked my finger and tasted my blood,” he revealed, sounding confused. “I do not know what she saw or what she tasted, but she seemed satisfied,” he said, with a one shouldered shrug, as he looked up and met his gaze.

“But this is not a pin prick,” Prosper objected, curious about this prophetess and what she had done to his life mate.

“No. When I left her shop, I felt dizzy and confused. The pain felt as though someone had truly carved this into my palm,” Spencer explained, gazing at his hand.

Prosper cradled it, aware that such a red mark must have some pain associated with it.

“This cross appeared and has never gone away. It does not heal or get worse; it stays there, looking angry,” Spencer mused. “I do not care what it means, because it led me to you.”

Spencer kissed him, as though that settled the matter.

Prosper dipped his head into the curve of his neck and nuzzled the unbitten flesh. The love and trust he gave freely broke his resistance. Spencer wanted
his
child, not any other's. Even if it did have Prosper's wrecked DNA and look like him, his companion did not care.

If either could carry a child, as in the old ways, their baby would be loved. It would not grow up ignored or cast aside, because they would ensure it knew love and respect. Their child would enjoy a happier childhood than either had been granted.