STORY EXCERPT

Valen’s sweaty grip tightened on the dagger, but his breath caught.

“Who the fuck are you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

The figure tilted its head, a smirk lifting blood red lips.

“Oh, you already know, don’t you?”

His voice was velvet. Decadent. The sound of something forbidden whispered at midnight.

Valen’s instincts screamed at him to slash. To split the man in two. He was bad news, which was obvious. But every muscle wound taut and refusing to obey. But his soul, that traitorous, starved bastard, leaned forward.

“I should run you through,” he said. “Stick you like a pig.”

As if to emphasise the point, he jabbed his dagger in the air near the other man’s face.

He raised a golden eyebrow but made no effort to move away from the weapon so close to his eye socket.

“Why yes, you could. You could, but I know you don’t want to.”

“You think I won’t, wretchling? Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

The man stepped closer to the mirror’s edge, and the air between them pulsed.

With magic. With heat. With friction?

“No, you’re not afraid of me. To be honest, I never expected you to be,” the figure said, voice low, intimate, sliding closer. “You’re afraid of what you want from me.”

Valen growled, although he stepped back unwittingly.

“You know nothing about me. Of whom I am.”

“But I do. I do know you.”

The man—no, not a man. A prince of some twisted court—emerged fully from shimmering darkness. Solid. Whole. Real. His chest naked beneath a half-cloak of dark silk, his body lean, carved, scarred like a promise. His antlers shimmered in the candlelight. He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. He glided across the room and set himself down on the chair. He hooked one leg over the other. Never once did he take his eyes off Valen. He flicked his wrist, long black nails catching the light like onyx.

“You carry your weapons like talismans, like they'll protect you from the things you ache for.” He nodded towards the ring Valen was running up and down the chain. “You wear your silence like armour and call it strength. But you're not made of steel, Valen Gurtarg.”

The sound of his name in that voice made something deep inside Valen contract.

He raised the dagger again.

“Fine, you know my name. Say yours.”

There was a pause before he gave a faint smile, wicked and reverent all at once. The horned man dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Yrwen.”

It was just a name, but it slid into Valen’s consciousness like a key into a lock. A door he hadn’t realised was inaccessible up until then. He narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve seen you,” Valen said. “In the mirror. Out of the corner of my eye in the stairwell.”

“I let you see me,” Yrwen said, with a shrug.

“And my dreams?”

Yrwen bit his bottom lip, a delicate pink tinging his cheeks.

“Commander Gurtarg, I’m flattered….”

“Oh, fuck off,” Valen spat, his face burning.

Yrwen closed his lips, but continued to eyeball him, his head tilted in that infuriating way that Valen had seen someone else do, somewhere before—although he couldn’t quite remember who. Eventually, he sighed and stood up. He was tall, lean like an athlete but held a strength that rove off of him in waves.

“Don’t you see? You were mine the moment you walked into this cursed place. You just haven't admitted it yet. Not even to yourself.”

Valen’s jaw clenched as the horned man wafted past him, the satin of his silk brushing over his clammy hands. The heat between them was unbearable, magnetic. A tension thick with unspoken need. Not just lust, but recognition. Valen had spent years holding himself together with discipline and daggers, burying every hunger beneath stoicism and solitude. But this creature, this beautiful horror, saw him. Yrwen saw him and called him out.

And that terrified him more than anything.

“You don't get to own me,” Valen said, low and dangerous.

ADULT EXCERPT

Allowing himself to be turned, Valen shivered as he felt Yrwen's fingers slip between his cheeks, finding his entrance. With one finger, he brushed over it, the very tip peeping inside before removing it. It stung and his entire body clenched but Valen willed himself to relax when he heard Yrwen spit on his finger and once again, he was smoothing it over Valen’s pulsating hole. He screwed his eyes shut as a cold sweat broke over his skin. The finger drove a little further into him this time, making him gasp. Yrwen used his other hand to push Valen’s long hair away from his neck and pressed kisses along the skin leading to his shoulders. More spit and the finger went in fully, making Valen’s knees buckle. He fell forward onto the bed. He let out a groan, marred with discomfort and needing as Yrwen nudged his legs wider apart with his knee.

“It’s okay,” Yrwen leaned over and whispered against his shoulder before giving it a nip. “Shh…”

He slid the finger back in, making Valen’s eyes water. He bit down on a pillow. Yrwen withdrew and this time, when he pushed into him, it slid in more easily. Jabbing and pulling out until it was joined by another digit. Goosebumps burst over his skin as Yrwen stretched his hole, spitting on his fingers every now and again. Tears filled his eyes, not from the burning pain, but of how the feeling of him doing this to him amidst the clamour of the battle encampment every night had never faded. Valen sniffed and pulled himself up, shaking his head.

Yrwen’s eyes widened, but he stepped away, his arms open. Red crept up his neck, but he remained silent, for which Valen was thankful. He didn’t even know what the problem was… he’d fucked since. But something about allowing someone else to do that to him again, to put himself in such a vulnerable position after so long, terrified him.

“I… I don’t think I can.”

Valen wrapped his arms around himself. Rolling the tip of one of his horns between his fingers, Yrwen frowned but he nodded. Resignation written across his face. He dropped onto the mattress next to him and cupped his cheek, turning Valen to look at him.

“I understand. But please… let me stay. Let me touch you like it means something. Even if you have to pretend it doesn’t.”

Then he kissed him, slowly, deeply. Valen’s skin tightened as he melted into Yrwen, pressed against him, pushing him back on the bed. He climbed on top of him, pressing kisses down his jaw, licking the flesh, feeling the velvet-smoothness against his tongue. Tasting salt and smoke. His dick sprang to life once more, pinned between them, slicked with sweat, duelling Yrwen’s erection. Valen grasped both with one hand, fingers barely stretching around the girth of them both. But he jerked them in tandem, pressing his teeth into his bottom lip, watching as their pricks slid against one another in perfect synchronicity.

 “Let me take care of you,” Yrwen said in his ear. “Let me help you forget.”

Valen let go. Gripping his hips, Yrwen ground against him until Valen panted, worried he’d come across his own stomach before they’d really got started.

“I’m going to take you,” Valen whispered.

Yrwen nodded, nuzzling into his neck. He caught Valen’s nipple between his teeth and sucked until it turned hard.

Pushing Yrwen’s legs apart, he spat on his finger and pushed it between his cheeks. Yrwen bit down on his lip, his white teeth bright against the rosy red. He pulled out his finger and spat on it again, spreading it over the second digit this time, pushing inside Yrwen and scissoring him open until he shuddered.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Valen rasped.

He continued to stretch Yrwen’s hole, enjoying the way he convulsed with every brush of his fingers over that peculiar little spot inside. It had a name, Valen knew that, but damned if he remembered it. To be honest, he hoped he couldn’t remember a fucking thing once he was done with Yrwen. Moans filled the air, making Valen’s cock leap, as Yrwen’s skin turned pink and glimmered with sweat. He wasn’t ready to let their time together end, not yet. Hiking Yrwen’s hips up, Valen buried his face between the cheeks. He slid his tongue over the hole, fondling the velveteen balls above. He rolled each one in his hand as he pressed inside Yrwen’s most intimate place, enjoying how the ring of muscle contracted around him with abandon as well as the way Yrwen burbled his name like a mantra. Feeling fingers running through his hair, he delved deeper, sometimes pressing a finger or two in past his tongue.

“Please, I need you to take me… make me yours.”