[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Fantasy Romance, M/M, demons, HEA]
Abraxas Hadean has never been anything other than a warrior. He is one of the princes of Rausol and youngest of the three Hadean brothers. He’s lived a life of privilege that he has filled with his own miscreant adventures.
His whole world comes to a crashing end when he is killed, sent to the underworld, and put toe-to-toe with a demon from his nightmares. Svel Rosilin is surly, dominating, and everything that Abraxas dreamed about. Yet, the underworld is no place for a fledgling love to begin.
With the threat of a usurper looming over their love, Svel and Abraxas must travel across the Underworld in search of answers to their fate. What they find is cryptic news, a harsh answer, and a threat that will surely tear them apart. Svel and Abraxas must do everything they can to keep hell itself from ripping apart their love of a lifetime.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Chaos rocked the foundations of the Rausolian settlement. Soldiers were shouting orders to wake up the still-vulnerable few who were fast asleep. There was a thick haze of smoke coming from some of the tents and makeshift buildings that had been set ablaze. Huge flames shot up from the thatch roofs and soared up to kiss the night’s belly. Abraxas ran from his tent as quickly as his sinewy legs could carry him.
He paused to pick up one of the swords from a fallen solider so that he might be able to defend himself. In the hurry to see if his troops were okay, he left his own sword back in his tent. There wasn’t enough time now to turn and run to go get it. The slightly less agile sword that he picked off of the corpse of one of his soldiers would have to suffice for now.
Abraxas tried to piece together what was happening. He could see a few of the Solindiran halflings dipping from between several tents and making their way through the camp. It would seem that their rival country’s troops had moved at some point during the night and were now infiltrating through the massive expanse of the camp. The seasoned warrior knew that they would not make it very far, but they would at least diminish some of the Rausolian ranks. Sadly, that wouldn’t be enough to win them the war.
Solindiran troops were swarming through the camps. Most of the troops had awoken from their interrupted slumber and were now staving off the Solindiran armies. Strangely, his quadrant of the camp looked as if it had already been picked over. There were not many soldiers of either country in the area, or what few there were had already died or were in the process of it. Suffice to say, there was very little for him to fear in this instance.
There were bodies lying everywhere that he looked. The twisted and gnarled armored physiques of fallen soldiers were dumped in heaps upon the ground. The stark white of bone, the crimson of innards, and the smell of death were all around him. He felt his stomach roil with repulsion at the sight. Bile bit at the back of his throat and threatened to send his previous evening’s dinner surging past his mouth. Luckily, after a wave of initial disgust, he was able to get his reaction under control. Abraxas had seen this all before on the battlefield.
A plan began to form in the general’s mind. He needed to find where the center of the action was, get Abdiel, and formulate a new plan of attack. Abraxas would collect what soldiers he came across along the way. They were going to have to organize the fallen and injured in a makeshift infirmary until they could set up something more concrete. He knew there was going to be a large amount of casualties that were not anticipated. After weighing all of the odds, there would still be a hope for them to win this battle.
Just as Abraxas was going to head out in the direction of the fray, something stopped him dead in his tracks. From behind him, he felt a cool sharpness slam into the middle of his back. A low and gurgling growl ripped from his chest uncontrollably. Vibrant crimson blood bubbled past his lips and slid down his chin. It spotted the front of his tunic and dripped to the ground.
A white-hot searing pain shot through his side, into his back, and rocked him to the very core. Abraxas had never felt something that was so painful. There was only one kind of injury that could have slammed the forethought of his mind with blinding agony. If Abraxas was right, there wouldn’t be much of a chance for him to do anything beyond dying in the backwoods of Solindira.
The sticky feeling of blood slid down his skin and stuck his tunic to the muscled arch of his back. When Abraxas looked down, all that he could see was the better half of a sword sticking through the middle of his abdomen. The deadly metal seemed to shimmer in the orange light of the blazing camp. He stared down at the sword skewing his midsection as if he were entranced by the gravity of what was happening to his body.
Abraxas’s hand twisted around to his back and ripped out the short sword by its hilt in one fluid motion. More of the startling blood spilled from the now-gaping wound in rich spurts. A hand against his middle tried to still the blood flow but was unsuccessful. He felt himself begin to pale at an alarming rate. His head was spinning as the sword was dropped to the ground with a clattering noise.
In an instant, he crumbled to the ground. First, he dropped to his knees and then fell on his chest. His world went hazy from the substantial injury he had sustained. His observant eyes became far too heavy to hold open on their own. Yet, he was too weak to close them either. There was no way that he was going to be able to stay conscious, Abraxas decided. Facedown in the dirt, the prince tried to fight the temptation of resigning himself to death. Abraxas never thought that dying would be so painful. He wasn’t weak, but he was no longer sure that he was strong enough to survive this.
His entire body ached from the tip of his fingers to the very soles of his feet. Pain ran amuck inside of him and caused his brain to be unable to comprehend anything else. As he began to slip into the blackness, he saw a pair of booted feet pass into his view. Abraxas didn’t know who they belonged to, but he knew his blurry vision was showing him the only fleeting glimpse he would ever be given of the man who killed him.
Abraxas could feel his weakening heartbeat against the dirt beneath him as he watched with blurry vision as his killer bent down to pick up their sword.
“Tsk, tsk. You must earn your release, Abraxas Hadean. Nothing in this world will be given to you for free. Everything comes with a price, little prince.”
His eerie red eyes were a sign of Rausolian royalty and were narrowed at the gold devil. “What is your price, my demon?”
His body tensed when the demon curled his fingers about a fistful of the prince’s dark chocolate hair. Just like both of his older brothers, the human’s hair was that of a deep and rich auburn. Unlike his siblings, his hair had a slightly vermillion tint to it. It was an aspect that he had gained from his mother, who had died years ago. As the demon’s fingers yanked at his hair, Abraxas felt himself lose a little more of his grip on reality.
“You must earn it by a sacrifice of pain.”
Abraxas was confused. Not only was the physical stimulation of the demon’s burning flesh clouding his mind, but a haze had formed that inhibited him from clearly deciphering such cryptic words. Another aching roll of his hips against the devil’s hot skin denied him of pleasure that he so desperately desired. This demon god had ensnared the very core of his wants. Abraxas did not know how he would survive this with his soul intact.
“I will pay your price, fiend. Know that once you hear my screams, no others will ever satisfy you.”
The demon smirked at that little comment. The subtle pull of one corner of his lips upward was one that made Abraxas’s heart race even harder. There was something about this beast of a devil that caught him off guard. His hand lifted, and fingers ran through the horned beast’s sandy-blond waves.
Abraxas had always been in control of every situation and aspect of his life. He led legions of his family’s troops against the cowards of Solindira, he played in his father’s competitions of strength, and above all, he submitted to no man. In this darkness, his entire prowess became inadequate. What had gotten him through his youth, adolescence, and early manhood was of no use in this dark and desolate place.
The demon that had captured him was so powerful that he could feel the very electricity of his dominance sparking the air about him. There was no way that his sizeable human strength would translate into any real force when faced with a demon.
The shadows snaked out to capture his wrists, rip his muscled arms upward, and pin them in a splayed position. His ankles were given the same treatment, which caused his legs to be pinned in a very open position. Abraxas became aware of how vulnerable that he was in this situation. His devil had slunk of into the shadows and left only the echo of a predatory growl in his wake to give him any indication that he was indeed still there.
Even if he could no longer see the demon, he could feel the incessant weight of those glowing golden eyes looking upon him. Abraxas could feel them linger in the defined lines of his rigid muscles. Abraxas knew that he had the body of a warrior. As he looked down, he surveyed that he was heavily muscled but slender enough to be light on his feet. Compared to some of the other warriors that he had seen, he thought he wasn’t bad off for being the youngest heir to the throne.
Abraxas didn’t see the whip coming as it sliced through the darkness. He knew whips well, considering that he had to use them when training his horse and in some emergency combat situations. Abraxas knew that the only part of the whip to touch him was the popper, a small braided piece of cord that was connected to the tong of the whip. The most painful part, the part that did all the damage, was the small knot that had been tied in the popper. Abraxas had often wondered how such a small thing could cause so much pain.
An unhindered cry ripped free of his lips and echoed into the ominous void. The tip of the whip had sliced into the tender meat of his shoulder as it trailed downward. Blood quickly pumped to the surface of his skin and out the open wound to form what felt akin to a sticky stream that ran down the small of his back.
“If you would like to break our contract, simply say your name, Abraxas,” the taunting demon hissed.
“It will take much more than that to make me break,” Abraxas breathlessly snapped.
Another popping strike from the devil’s whip ripped through the air and into the tender meat of his left ass cheek. Abraxas yelled again, and this time there came with it a slew of obscenities. Abraxas could feel an enraged red welt that would most likely appear on his skin, just where the whip had hit him. Much to his surprise, the smell of his own blood invaded his senses as ruby gems came oozing to the surface of his skin.
Abraxas couldn’t tell if it was to soothe away the pain or infuriate him further, but the demon’s burning-hot touch was on him yet again. Abraxas could have begged for more and screamed for it all to stop at this point. The devil’s fingertips wrapped around his already-throbbing erection. The beast stroked him with languid flicks of his wrists. Pre-cum dripped from his weeping tip and onto the devil’s fingers.
“So you like this,” the fiend whispered into his ear.
Abraxas could not find it in his will to muster forth any response to the plying words of his golden beast. He felt the tip of the demon’s member press against the warm cleft of his cheeks in regards to his lack of response. The tantalizing tease of a touch was enough to force him to push backward and slide the hot shaft closer toward his entrance.