The high priest’s husband is on a rampage. A skilled assassin, S’Tyll has made it his mission to take revenge on behalf of his spouse. Unfortunately, he’s starting with Jisten, S’Rak’s bonded Valer and captain of the guard. At the same time, S’Rak is in deep trouble, for his Zothian past hasn’t remained decently past but is dominating his present and trying to collar his future. Can S’Rak manage to convince his outraged spouse to accept Jisten and attack his real enemies instead?
To make matters worse, the attacks on the Valers continue, this time right through S’Rak’s carefully wrought wards. With the chapel not yet sanctified, it’s as vulnerable as the Valers, and S’Rak is duty bound to defend them all. With S’Tyll under arrest, time becomes a commodity even more precious than gold or water. S’Rak will stop at nothing to secure S’Tyll’s release before the horrors of gaol drive the empath insane, but will it be enough? Or will it be too late for S’Tyll?
Rak’s body trembled in his hands, pressing into his caress in a demand for more. He indulged Rak, stroking him all over until Rak’s whole body was aquiver with need. He enjoyed the sensation of the soft skin sliding over steel muscle. He appreciated the way Rak’s body responded to his touch, even now, after all those years apart. Rak was still his, down to his very core; Rak had been designed and trained expressly to serve his pleasure.
He had studied long and well and had carefully imbued sacred and magical herbs with power, mixing them into elixirs that then served to carry his magic into the slave’s body—and change it. Rak had received the standard potions in his youth, the slave fire potion, the gladiator potion and the male-obligate potion. He had added over a dozen potions on top of that foundation, changing Rak’s body to suit him.
He had caused the slave’s tongue to grow both longer and prehensile. He had changed the slave’s internal muscles so that the slave’s body would massage him as he used it. He had strengthened the slave fires and had taught Rak’s body to remember its users, so that each time he used his slave, the slave’s body would know his better and please him better and share its pleasure with him better. And he had also turned Rak’s body into a vessel for the raising and storing of magical power, a reservoir he could tap at will. When he’d finished with the slave, Rak had been an exquisite work of art, purpose made for his one true Master.
Narvain rolled onto his back and pressed Rak’s head to his crotch. It had been years since he’d felt the slave’s tongue on his cock. He sighed happily as the slave kissed his balls and cock, giving proper honor to the manhood he was about to service. As Rak’s tongue went to work on him, he learned that it had lost none of its potency, and Rak’s skills hadn’t rusted. The intense jolts of pleasure shot through him from his groin out to the tips of his extremities, causing his fingers and toes to curl. His thighs opened wider and his hands rested on Rak’s head, stroking the red and gold hair that was becoming inexcusably long.
“You need a haircut, slave,” he said. “See to it, today.”
“Yes, Master,” Rak replied, lifting his head to gaze at his face with an expression of adoration that warmed Narvain’s heart. Without being told to do so, Rak returned to his Master’s cock. Having licked and kissed every bit of it, he now took the head into his mouth and sucked.