Playing With Fire
Playing With Fire Copyright © 2004 Sean Michael
Also Available from Resplendence Publishing
ResplendencePublishing.com ~ Gems of Romantic Fiction ~
Playing with Fire
By Sean Michael
Resplendence Publishing
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www.resplendencepublishing.com
Gems of Romantic Fiction
Playing With Fire
Copyright © 2004 Sean Michael
Edited by Liza Green and CJ Slate
Cover Art by Kris Norris
Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC
1093 A1A Beach Blvd, #146
St. Augustine, FL 32080
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-870-1
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: May 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
What happens when an uppity fire mage takes the son of a neighboring kingdom prisoner to teach him a lesson? Sparks, of course. Only in this case, where there’s smoke, there’s more than just fire. The prince and the mage both have their secrets to hide, leading the reader through an intricate dance of war, deception, and smoldering sexuality.
It’s incendiary!
Chapter One
The hands dressing Zujan were careful, only the most perfect of his pets were allowed so close to him. The fiery colored silks were carefully draped against his skin—the deepest reds against him, the colors slowly growing lighter in weight and shade as each floor-length robe was added.
One soft hand was in his hair, carefully arranging the ebony curls into the illusion of effortless muss, another rubbed a lotion containing crushed pearls into his fingers and wrists. Fire rubies were added to his throat, his ears and carefully hung in his hair.
Honestly, the trials and tribulations of having to entertain were quite exhausting. Still, it was time that the lordlings he allowed to live on his lands paid him tribute, and for that, he would appear in the salle and…mingle.
“Lord Zujan?” His current favorite, a sweet boy with a quick mind and an eager mouth appeared, dressed in a short, white tunic, legs bare for his touch, his brand just visible on the soft inner thigh.
“Yes, Rall?” He sent a single bar’cha, his firefaery, over to flit about, just tease Rall with its heat.
“The ballrooms are prepared, as you’ve requested. The tables are laid. Shall I have the harem readied and presented?”
Zujan tilted his head, considering. “Have the harem decorated and bound and mounted on the walls as art in the dining room.”
There were the handiest crystalline phalluses mounted randomly with jewel-studded chains above to stretch the lovely bodies out. One must impress the gentry, after all.
“All of them, Lord Zujan?” Rall asked softly.
“You will serve me, pet. And have a few scattered about as side tables and benches.” With a click of his fingers, the bar’cha dissipated, energy flowing back into him as the bar’cha chose to obey him.
Rall’s eyes showed both disappointment and relief as the bar’cha disappeared, Rall nodded though. “I will take care of everything, my Lord.”
“Excellent.” He met the soft green eyes with his own. “Do not disappoint me, pet.”
Fear flashed through Rall’s eyes, but Rall boldly promised that he would not be dissatisfied.
“Is there anything else, my Lord?”
“Mmm…have the kitchen send up something sweet, something to sate my hunger.”
“The kitchen, my lord? Or the harem?”
Zujan chuckled. “Cheeky. The kitchen. I will feed my other hungers from you.”
Rall bowed to him, eyes alight. “Yes, sir.”
Another bow, and his pet left to do his bidding.
Such a good boy. It would be a shame to lose him back into his father’s arms.
His other pets continued to fuss over him, pressing close, adoring him. Zujan allowed it for a few moments, permitted the touches and soft kisses, the need and want pouring over him and warming him. Soon enough the snack was brought by a sweet little thing, and he dismissed them all, allowing himself the luxury of privacy.
There wouldn’t be much solitude once he began to welcome his guests. Each one would demand his time and attention. There would be gifts and simpering and fawning, and as he’d invited them, he’d have to keep from frying too many of them.
A few here and there served as a lovely reminder. Too many and one got a bad reputation.
His keep was perched on the side of a mountain, and all the lands in the plains below belonged to him, as far as his eyes could see and farther still. It was important to insist on these affairs; his subjects needed to know that he kept a close eye on what was his. It tended to quell any thoughts of uprisings.
His bar’cha began to appear—violet and blue, ruby and orange, dancing together, drawing around him, their laughter silent, their heat fierce as they stole bits and bites of pastry, tiny feet leaving smoldering marks on the dough.
“My lovely ones.” Zujan laughed with them, entranced, overjoyed as he always was at their flame, their beauty.
The thick wooden door opened, sending the bar’cha scattering.
Rall came to him. “My lord, your guests are arriving.”
He sighed dramatically and stood, looking up into Rall’s eyes. “Am I beautiful, pet? Will I stun all I see?”
“Yes, my Lord. There has never been anyone as beautiful as you.”
“Excellent answer, pet.” Zujan nodded toward the door. “Come, let us make an entrance, and I will fascinate the commoners.”
“You would fascinate them no matter how you entered, my Lord.” Rall held out his arm.
Zujan slid his hand over Rall’s skin, sending a frisson of heat into his pet. “Of course, I would.”
“Yes, my Lord.” He got a smile from Rall, and then they were through the door and he was being announced, Rall standing proudly next to him.
The palace was beautifully decorated, his harem well-bound and mounted upon the blood-red silk-covered walls, the numerous chandeliers all lit, the fires blazing in the two pits on either side of the room. There were flames everywhere.
Perfectly lovely.
The low chatter stopped as he entered, and dozens upon dozens of eyes stared at him. “Good evening. Welcome to my home.”
There was silence for a very long moment, and then someone, a Duke from just west of his demesne, bowed low. “Thank you, Lord Zujan.”
Zujan dipped his head, moving gracefully down the long staircase and along the hallway to take his seat in the well-padded dark marble chair at the head of the hall. It rested on a pedestal, allowing him to look down and meet every man’s eyes.
Rall sat at his feet, his pet obedient and sweet.
The guests milled around, some of them looking with open amazement at the live decorations, others looking upon them in revulsion or horror. One by one, in no apparent order, they came to pay their respects. The smart ones offered gifts in an attempt to curry his favor. Everything from additions to his harem to gold and jewels to food and livestock.
Zujan’s fingers tangled in Rall’s hair as he listened to the bevy of idiots drone on and on. Would the torture never end?
King Blethin was announced.
King
Blethin. The man had a nerve. This was what happened with the outlying lands—they put on airs and got uppity. Blethin was an older man, with a round wife and an heir in tow. A young, strapping son who was entirely not his type. Tall. Muscled. Golden skin. Long hair the color of wheat with shots of flame. And eyes like a midnight sky.
Luscious. Zujan needed another princeling. Honestly.
He purred, the sound familiar enough to make Rall tense.
“My Lord,” murmured the king, bowing. His wife curtseyed, but the prince just stood there, watching him, defiant, head held high.
“We have brought you the finest furs of our lands as a very small token of our friendship.” A cloak was handed to him, black and soft, warm. “The rest of the furs were left with your staff.”
The fur was lovely, and Zujan nodded happily. “You are a generous man. How kind of you to attend.”
And to bring your prince to me.
“We are neighbors, my Lord. It was an honor to be invited.” The king all but tripped over his own tongue to lick Zujan’s boots. The prince however stood behind his father, still straight and proud, those blue eyes almost looking through him.
This was a proud one. A strong one.
“And will your companion introduce himself?”
Come, lovely one. Speak to me.
“This is my son, Wintras.” The king made a hand gesture to his son, head jerking. “Bow to his Lordship,” the man hissed.
Wintras stood for a long time and then gave a half bow, eyes never leaving Zujan.
Zujan heard the shock ripple through his audience as one of his eyebrows arched, and he tilted his head. “Wintras.”
“That’s what my father said.”
Blethin’s gasp was audible, the man going red at his son’s words.
“Attractive and observant. How very lucky you are, Blethin.” His voice remained cool and clipped. This one would need to be taught a lesson, lest anyone else think this was acceptable behavior. “Perhaps he is simply overtaken by my beauty.”
“Maybe I just don’t like having to give up our best furs to you on top of everything else you’ve stolen.”
The room went silent and Zujan hid his smile as he stood, the bar’cha appearing all around him, drawn to his anger and his need to punish. Poor stupid little fool. “You misspeak, boy. All I have is mine to take.”
The prince stood his ground, cocky and confident, arrogant. “I stand by my words.”
“Indeed?”
An older man, an Earl hurried over. “Please, your majesty, my lord. The boy is young…”
“I am the Prince of the Western Lands. When I take my father’s place I will end your terror of my people.”
Zujan held out one hand, a flame appearing, the air in the ballroom going cold. “You have not yet learned terror, young one.”
Heavens and skies, he was having fun.
“You think a few party tricks are going to teach me of it?” Those amazing blue eyes were steady, watching him, challenging him.
“No.” He was hoping they wouldn’t—this was the most entertainment he’d had in years. Zujan turned to the Queen, smiling into her tear-filled eyes. “I will offer you the choice, Lady. Give your son to me or I will roast him where he stands.”
She fell to her knees, her husband joining her. “Please, your lordship, please spare his life!”
“Get up,” growled the prince. “Stop debasing yourselves.”
Zujan ignored the boy’s words, instead accepting the mother’s. “Excellent.” He snapped his fingers, his guards appearing immediately. “Take the prince down to the dungeons and get him well-settled.”
“You can’t just take me prisoner!”
“Of course not. Your family just offered you to me, in front of all my company.” He waved his hand idly. “Take him away.”
“You intimidated them!” The prince didn’t fight his captors, glaring at him instead.
Blethin had joined his wife in mewling. They were getting boring.
Zujan watched the bar’cha do as they wanted, watching as they moved in and around his guests, swirling and heating. The play continued until worried nobles began to swat at his bar’cha, at which point they attacked, stroking with their burning touch. Sitting again, Zujan relished the chaos, fingers returning to Rall’s hair. “Are you enjoying yourself, pet?”
“Y-yes, my Lord.”
“Excellent. I am as well.”
“Stop this! You are a madman!” Wintras shouted at him from across the room as the guards dragged him away. “Rush him! There are many of you and only one of him! He’s insane!”
“They’re so entertaining those first few days, don’t you agree?” He smiled coldly at the king and his wife. “It is by his own lack of self-control that he goes. He will not be permanently harmed—assuming he learns, of course.”
“Thank you for sparing him, your majesty,” whimpered the queen.
“You are merciful,” added the king, jeweled fingers shaking.
Zujan nodded in total agreement. Indeed. Most merciful.
Amused and merciful.
And the owner of some lovely furs.
* * * *
Wintras shivered and glared balefully at the stone walls. He hadn’t thought Lord Zujan had actually meant a dungeon when he’d said it. But it was a dark, cold, damp, smelly, underground stone prison. A dungeon.
