Capture (27 page)

“N
YKIN
?”

“Wake up….”

“Nykin?”

Nykin was warm and comfortable, his body relaxed in a way he wasn’t used to, but the persistent voice in his head eventually roused him from sleep.
“Fimor?”

“Yes, Nykin. Good to see you’re finally awake.”

Nykin snuggled further down into the softness of the bed, refusing to open his eyes. “
Not sure I am. I feel… strange.”
He felt heavy and lethargic and didn’t think he could actually open his eyes even if he wanted to.

Fimor laughed softly.
“They gave you something to keep you asleep. You were very badly injured, Nykin. You needed to heal.”

Nykin vaguely remembered being in the forest, but the details were fuzzy, and sleep was already starting to pull him back under
. “Tired.”

“Rest, then, young rider. I will let the others know of your progress.”

T
HE
NEXT
time Nykin woke up he felt marginally better, but his head still felt thick and heavy. His eyes fluttered open, immediately shutting against the bright morning light flooding in through the window.

“Here, drink this.” Strong hands helped him into a sitting position, and Nykin felt a cup against his lips. His heart rate picked up a little—he’d recognize that voice anywhere. “It’ll make you feel better.” The liquid inside was cool and slightly bitter, but Nykin dutifully drank it all down. As soon as he swallowed, the fuzziness and lethargy began to melt away. Nykin opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and smiled.

“Hey.” He settled back on the bed again, watching Ryneq set the cup onto the bedside table. “What happened?” With his mind much clearer than it had been before, Nykin began to piece things together slowly. He remembered Hatak stabbing him, remembered the pain as the blade sank into his back, but after that, things got hazy.

Ryneq sighed and reached out to take Nykin’s hand in his. “Your plan worked… sort of.” Nykin listened with rapt attention as Ryneq told him, in great detail, everything that happened after he’d been stabbed.

Nykin’s hand absently slipped down to rest on the heavy bandage wrapped around his middle. He found it hard to believe he’d been unconscious for so long—four days in total—and missed it all. He needed to thank Fimor for saving his life—he’d given Nykin his blood and his magic, leaving himself weak and vulnerable. If Nykin concentrated hard enough, he could still feel Fimor’s magic thrumming through his body like a comforting warmth.

Nykin was glad Fimor had killed Hatak. It seemed only fitting after all Hatak had done to Nykin. He only wished he’d been awake to see it. When Ryneq told him about Morkryn, Faelon, and Avelor, Nykin interrupted him with a hand on his arm. “Why were the elves there? I thought they refused to get involved in our conflicts.”

Ryneq laughed softly. “That’s exactly what I said to Cerylea.”

“And?”

“And apparently when the conflict involves his betrothed, then Prince Morkryn is more than willing to get involved. I don’t think it was well received by the elven elders, but Morkryn is free to do as he pleases.”

Nykin grinned at that. Morkryn and Cerylea would make a good match. “How did they get there with the bridge down? And how did they know where to find the princess?”

“The rumors are true. It would appear the city of Alel is indeed built on the Nalvaq Sea. They came by boat. And you weren’t the only one who received a magical item from the elves,” Ryneq said, absently playing with Nykin’s fingers. “Morkryn gave Cerylea a silver bracelet imbued with tracking magic. Which she neglected to mention to me.”

Nykin immediately looked down at his wrist, gasping when he saw the burnt-orange of the fire triangle in stark relief against his skin. “When did…?” He looked up at Ryneq expectantly.

“Faelon removed the spell while you were unconscious.” Ryneq leaned forward to trace round the outline of the mark, and Nykin shivered under his touch. “I know how much you missed having it.”

“Thank you.” Nykin had the sudden urge to grab Ryneq’s hand and pull him closer. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but they’d not mentioned what had happened between them in the forest, so Nykin just smiled up at him instead. “Are they still here? Prince Morkryn and the others?”

Ryneq bristled a little before answering. “Yes. They wanted to stay until you regained consciousness.”

Ryneq was still frowning, and if Nykin didn’t know better, he’d think Ryneq was jealous, or annoyed by their presence at the very least.

Nykin yawned suddenly, tiredness creeping up on him again, and Ryneq was quick to stand up off the bed. “I should let you rest.”

Nykin wanted to protest, but his eyes were already falling closed. He felt the soft brush of lips on his forehead as he slipped back into sleep.

T
WO
DAYS
later, when Nykin had washed and cleaned up a little, the elves came to see him. Morkryn and Avelor were as courteous as before, but Faelon was surprisingly polite, considering how he’d behaved during their previous meetings. Nykin thanked them all for helping to save his life and readily accepted Prince Morkryn’s invitation to attend his and Cerylea’s forthcoming wedding.

By the time the elves had departed for Hervath it was late afternoon, and Nykin was getting restless. His wounds were healing well, and he was feeling much better. He hadn’t seen Ryneq since that first time, and Nykin was starting to get a bad feeling. Maybe the king had chosen to forget what they’d shared, and put it down to the extreme emotion of the situation they’d been in. It would make sense, after all. Nykin was hardly the ideal match for a king. He closed his eyes, resigned to the fact that whatever he’d hoped might happen clearly wasn’t going to.

Nykin must have fallen asleep at some point because he was startled awake by the creaking of his door opening. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was at least several hours as the sun had long since set. He reached over to light the lamp next to his bed.

“Nykin?” Ryneq’s voice was low, almost a whisper, and it washed over Nykin, leaving tingles in its wake. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” Nykin struggled to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tracked Ryneq’s movements as he strode purposefully across the room and made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but Ryneq’s appearance in his room had surprised him, and he was still a little fuzzy from sleep.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been back to see you sooner, but things have been a little hectic.”

When Nykin looked a little closer, he could see how exhausted Ryneq looked, and the guilt was almost immediate. He was the king of Torsere—of course he was going to be busy after everything that had happened. Tucked away recovering in one of the palace guest rooms, Nykin was out of touch and hadn’t really thought about what was going on around him. “That’s okay,” he replied, feeling awful all of a sudden. “I imagine there’s a lot for you to sort out.”

“Too much.” Ryneq sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Seran is still out there, there’s a spy—or spies—somewhere in the palace, and there’s still Cerylea’s wedding to reorganize.” He reached for Nykin’s hand and met his eyes. “I wanted to come before now, Nykin.” Nykin’s breath caught in his throat at the intensity of Ryneq’s gaze. “We have unfinished business.” Ryneq rubbed his thumb across the back of Nykin’s hand, and Nykin lay back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

Unfinished business
? What did that mean exactly? He’d wondered what would happen when, or if, they got back to the palace. Whether Ryneq would go back to treating him as a member of his dragon riders and nothing more. From the way he’d been looking at Nykin and stroking his hand, though, it seemed like Ryneq had every intention of continuing where they’d left off in the forest. But Nykin wasn’t sure what that meant either.

He didn’t want to be just another bed warmer that Ryneq would eventually get tired of. He wanted more, so much more. It had been easy to forget their relative statuses while they’d been held prisoner and in fear of their lives—but now they were back, and Nykin wasn’t sure where he stood.

Ryneq must have sensed Nykin’s uncertainty because he suddenly caught hold of Nykin’s jaw and tilted it toward him. “Nykin… look at me.”

When Nykin’s eyes snapped open, Ryneq slid both his hands around to cup Nykin’s face. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re together. Your official title is apparently ‘
The King’s Consort,
’ but I’m not all that concerned with labels. I just want you, Nykin.” Ryneq leaned in further until Nykin felt warm breath ghost over his lips. “If you don’t feel the same, then tell me now, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Nykin’s chest filled with warmth, the heat caused by Ryneq’s words flowing throughout his body and setting him on fire. He licked his lips, his tongue catching on Ryneq’s and making Ryneq’s breath catch. Nykin grinned, thrilled at Ryneq’s reaction. “I want you too.”

“Fuck.” Ryneq cursed softly and covered Nykin’s mouth with his own. His lips were soft, and the kiss was far more gentle than Nykin was expecting. Ryneq’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and it made Nykin’s stomach clench, but he also got the feeling Ryneq was holding back.

Ryneq was careful to keep his weight off Nykin as he pushed him back into the pillows, and Nykin moaned in frustration. His hands found their way onto Ryneq’s hips, and he tried to tug him closer, but Ryneq was all solid muscle, and Nykin was still weak from his injuries. “Come
on
.” Nykin pulled back from the kiss and attempted to glare Ryneq into complying.

“You’re still injured.” Ryneq pointedly looked down at Nykin’s side. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Nykin tugged on Ryneq’s shirt again, but he refused to be moved.

“Nykin….”

“Look.” Nykin nudged Ryneq until he sat back away from him with a confused expression on his face. He then drew back the covers in invitation. “We’ll go slow.” Ryneq still appeared skeptical, but he stood up to shrug off his shirt and pants. When he hesitated, hovering next to the bed in all his naked glory, Nykin couldn’t help but look him over from head to toe. He still had thick bandaging around his shoulder, and faint scarring where Hatak had cut him, but otherwise Ryneq’s body was all firm muscle and hard lines. Nykin’s mouth was suddenly far too dry.

Ryneq’s cock hung heavy and half-hard between his legs, and Nykin’s eyes lingered there, remembering how it had felt pressed up against him in the forest. He gently eased himself over to make room in the bed. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Ryneq finally relented and climbed in beside him, then lay down so they were facing each other. “Nykin.”

Nykin shivered, his whole body reacting as Ryneq laid his warm, calloused palm on Nykin’s hip. Nykin was naked except for a loose pair of breeches, and his growing erection already tented the material. Ryneq inched closer, his thumb sliding over Nykin’s stomach and dipping below the waistband but avoiding his bandages.

“Fuck,” Nykin muttered, as Ryneq eased the fabric down and out of the way and his fingers brushed over the head of Nykin’s cock.

Ryneq smirked. “Too much?” He trailed his hand down Nykin’s length, keeping his touch featherlight and his grip loose, and Nykin gritted his teeth against the urge to push up into Ryneq’s fist.

He glared hard at Ryneq, reaching out to still his hand. “No, but if you don’t want me to strain something”—Nykin bit back a moan when Ryneq’s fingers finally wrapped tightly around him—“then I suggest you stop teasing me.”

“Sorry.” Ryneq dipped his head, whispering the word into the crook of Nykin’s neck. He shuffled forward a little more, until his cock bumped up against Nykin’s, and Nykin let out another string of curses. It felt so good, and Nykin knew he would easily come from just this, but he wanted to be in control this time. Ryneq had been the one to get them both off when they were in the forest, and Nykin was eager to feel the warm weight of Ryneq’s cock in his hands. He wanted to push Ryneq back onto the bed, straddle his thighs, and watch every expression Ryneq made as Nykin jerked him off. He couldn’t do all of that with his body still healing, but he could touch.

Nykin placed his hand on Ryneq’s chest and gave a small push. Ryneq’s hand stilled and he drew back to look Nykin in the eye. “Just… let me do this,” Nykin whispered, and pushed a little harder. Ryneq quickly got the message, let go of Nykin, and rolled onto his back.

Nykin turned slightly onto his side and slid his hand up over Ryneq’s muscled thigh. The soft black hairs tickled his palm as Nykin stroked higher until his fingers rested on the jut of Ryneq’s hip. He wanted to bite down on the taut skin, leave his mark, but that was something else that would have to wait. For now, Nykin would have to be content with just using his hand.

Ryneq sucked in a breath as Nykin trailed his fingers over the dip of Ryneq’s belly. “Nykin….” Ryneq’s voice was pained and his erection strained upward as if searching for Nykin’s touch.

Nykin swallowed thickly, the sight of Ryneq laid out before him making his cock twitch. He wanted Ryneq to come first, but Nykin could already feel his orgasm building. Now was not the time to explore. They could do that later. Ryneq was leaking precome, and Nykin swiped his thumb through the sticky wetness before sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Nykin. The things I’m going to do to you when you’re fully h—” Ryneq didn’t get to finish his sentence. His head fell back onto the pillow with a thump as Nykin had licked his own palm and wrapped it tightly around Ryneq’s length.

Nykin moved with long, lazy strokes, relishing the moans and muttered curses falling from Ryneq’s lips. He was torn between watching the myriad of emotions wash over Ryneq’s face or the way Ryneq’s cock thrust up into his fist with each pump of his hand.

Ryneq’s fingers clenched in the sheets. “
Faster
… so close.” He bit his lip as Nykin increased his pace, arching off the bed when Nykin twisted his wrist.