STORY EXCERPT

He pushed the door open.

The room was dim but not dark. What little light there was filtered in through clouded windows overhead. Dust danced in it, slow and silver. Graceful as a ballerina in its fall. But the air felt frigid. Undisturbed. Like it hadn’t even been breathed in a century. Dafen stepped in.

And saw him.

Ashriel.

The name was whispered into his ear, unbidden, unattached. Like the castle itself had divulged the secret.

Ashriel.

So, that was the damsel’s name.

Dafen blinked, rubbing dust and sweat from his eyes, allowing his vision to focus.

But the prince—Ashriel—was not lying on a four-poster bed, as he’d expected. Not tucked in satin sheets like a delicate thing with his lithe hands folded across his chest, as the story had predicted.

Ashriel stood.

His back was to Dafen, head slightly bowed. Long pale hair hung down his back like silk thread, also untouched by dust or decay. He wore simple clothes. A white tunic to his knees. Cotton culottes. Bare feet. Stillness clung to him like a shroud. Didn’t move. It didn’t look like he even breathed.

For a wild second, Dafen thought he might be a statue. A monument to a once beautiful young royal who was no more. That the story was just that—a story. But no stone had skin like that—pearl-pale and almost translucent at the temples. No sculpture could make the hairs on his arms rise like that.

The feeling in the room wasn’t death as it had been in the rest of the decaying castle.

It was waiting.

A hundred years’ worth.

Dafen’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“You the sleeping brat?”

He almost winced as his own gruff words echoed off the walls and slapped him back. Why had he chosen that word of all others? Yes, the prince was probably a brat, all young royals were, but he didn’t need to say it. He rubbed his face and forced his breathing to even.

However, Ashriel didn’t answer. He didn’t even flinch.

Dafen stepped closer, careful not to let his boots scuff the floor. Not because he worried about the antique marble tiles. In fact, he didn’t know why he was being quiet. Respect? Habit? Instinct?

The scent hit him halfway across the room—something old. Not rot. Not dust. Something like the night air after a thunderstorm. Something charged.

The prince—if this was the mythical prince—hadn’t turned around.

Dafen cleared his throat and shifted his weight. He needed to leave. He’d done the job Trurro had hired him for and now he was going to collect his coin, his title of Charterblade and be on his way.

“Right. Well, found you. There’s a poster. With your face on. Sort of.” He frowned. “You were a lot more, um, horizontal than I was told.”

Nothing. Was he deaf perhaps?

It wasn’t one of the many rumours running around, but there were so many that it was impossible to know what was real and what was legend anymore.

Something, however, was not right. Okay, he didn’t expect the prince to fall into his arms and thank him for being a big brave knight and risking life and limb just to save him, but Dafen had expected something. Some kind of acknowledgment.

His fingers twitched toward the dagger at his hip, then away. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way the castle had guided him here — wanted him here. Like this moment was prewritten.

“Are you actually cursed?” he asked. “Is that it? Are you… awake, but not?”

Dafen knew the story: collect the “princess,” give her a kiss, live happily ever after. The thought of kissing this statue appealed to him even less than kissing a coma patient. Then, the skin on the back of his neck tightened as something changed. It could have been the temperature or the light or anything else, but Dafen didn’t know because he was too focused on the prince.

Ashriel turned.

Slowly. Deliberately.

So smoothly it was inhuman.

His eyes met Dafen’s and everything stopped. The world blinked. Time hiccupped.

Ashriel’s eyes weren’t human. Not fully. They were too liquid, like mercury, but not empty. No. Not empty. Full. Of memories. Of centuries. Of things too big and too old to name. They weren’t cold. They weren’t cruel.

They simply knew.

Dafen took half a step back without meaning to. His fingers found the brooch beneath his coat — sharp as ever, digging in like a memory that refused to scar over.

Ashriel opened his lips although he didn’t speak.

Something whispered in Dafen’s head: “You came.”

ADULT EXCERPT

“And what about you, my cursed prince,” he whispered, as he slid his hands over Ashriel’s toned shoulders, kneading the muscle. “What is it you want?”

Wind whispered past them, the rustle of leaves accenting the sweet air that licked at their skin.

“Just you.”

Dafen straddled the prince and ground his hips against Ashriel’s. Dampness spread inside his own breeches. Breeches he suddenly realised he needed to get rid of immediately. Ashriel gave a little whimper, his lips curving down into an exaggerated frown as Dafen climbed off him. He chuckled but stopped as Ashriel’s eyes grew wide when he dropped his breeches to the ground.

Oh. He’d forgotten about that. How the size and the girth of his prick often left people speechless when they saw it.

“Fuck…” Ashriel breathed as he touched his own throat.

Pink spots appeared on his cheeks.

Fuck indeed.

He was probably wondering how he was going to take all of Dafen. Dafen grinned. Ashriel would take it all. He would make sure of that. His cock jumped in agreement as he grasped it and yanked, knowing it wasn’t even full mast. He decided to keep that little surprise to himself for a little longer.

Dafen grabbed Ashriel’s wrist and put his hand on his dick. Sighing at the contact of his cool palm along his searing flesh. One hand wasn’t enough to encompass the whole thing, so he grabbed Ashriel’s other arm and guided his hand into place. Dafen dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Damn, that felt good. Dafen thrust into the touch, opening his eyes and moving his gaze on Ashriel, who kept wetting his lips. It was quite sweet to see the apprehension on his face over getting Dafen’s monster cock stuffed in his face, but Dafen was ready now.

“Do it.”

Ashriel froze and looked up with his mouth agape—although nowhere near wide enough to fit the appendage in. His eyes were hooded with lust but round with worry at the same time. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parting and closing repeatedly. Dafen reached forward and slid his fingers through Ashriel’s satiny hair before taking a handful and pulling him forward. Ashriel yelped and arched his back. His mouth flapped like a fish, as though he was deciding whether or not he was going to do it. Dafen used his free hand to push a finger in Ashriel’s mouth.

“Open,” he commanded.

“Yes, sire,” Ashriel said thickly.

Sweat beaded on Ashriel’s brow as he dropped his jaw open. He slid forward and sank to his knees. He grasped Dafen’s arse cheeks with each hand, spreading them open as he edged towards the fat, leaking cock staring him in the eye. Dafen shivered as the breeze tickled his hole. He was suddenly very aware they were outside. But quickly pushed that thought to the side when he remembered how much it took for him to get through the thorns. It was highly unlikely anyone would be creeping about in the bushes watching them. And if they were, well, they were going to put on a fucking good show.

Ashriel gulped as Dafen guided his dick to his mouth. He bit down on his tongue as he bumped the straining head against Ashriel’s chin, smearing silver streaks of cum over his skin. Ashriel’s eyes were smoky with need. Dafen gasped in a breath when Ashriel’s fingers clasped the base of his cock, strangling his bollocks at the same time. He knew Ashriel would be strong, but it came as a surprise.

Suddenly, like a man possessed, Ashriel opened his mouth, creating a black cavern and took Dafen in his mouth. Dafen hummed, the sound deep and low in his chest. He rolled his neck on his shoulders as he urged Ashriel’s head forward. Slowly. Inch by inch, he slid his lips down the length. Dafen hissed, feeling his teeth scrape against the flesh, but it only went towards heightening his desire. Although, in payback, he twisted Ashriel’s hair, feeling the strands snap free from their roots. He smirked as Ashriel let out a strangled sound, thwarted by the cock in his mouth. Tears streamed from his eyes as he crushed them shut, surging forward until Dafen felt the back of his throat.

“There’s a good prince,” he breathed, feeling his loins tighten. “Such a good prince.”