Slavers steal the Valer children, and it’s up to High Priest S’Rak and Captain Jisten to hunt them down and rescue the children. In a country where slavery is legal and slavers as common as fleas on a dog, the children’s hope of rescue before the auction block is slim to none.
S’Rak’s guards, long on the road, arrive in the city at last and immediately spark a battle and a diplomatic incident. Will S’Rak’s sanity, dignity and diplomatic immunity survive?
Bard Tafflynn, also known as S’Tyll, arrives with S’Rak’s personal guard. He is not pleased by the presumption of the Valer captain. S’Rak is, after all, his spouse. Will the bond Jisten shares with Rak prove sufficient to shield him from the irate wrath of the high priest’s husband?
“And now, I think that Jisten and I should, as you so eloquently put it, find a bedroom. Unless, of course, you wish to join in?” Rak managed not to laugh aloud at the expression on his brother’s face.
“Ah, no, thank you!” Jethain managed to choke out. He stood up and snuggled his puppy more firmly in the crook of his arm. “I’ll ah…see you both tomorrow. I’ll just let myself out…”
Jethain’s hasty retreat was more literal than metaphorical, Rak decided. He turned his gaze on Jisten, attempting to appear astonished by the prince’s reaction.
Jisten smirked. “I’m not falling for it.” He settled Sivle on the sofa and scooted closer. His near hand stroked Rak’s wing. Rak shivered in enjoyment of the tactile contact, both the heat and the variance in pressure of his lover’s hand against the sensitive wingsail. Rak’s wing unfurled under Jisten’s hand, seeking further caresses, which Jisten was clearly not at all loathe to supply. Jisten’s strong hands encircled Rak’s waist and pulled, and Rak let himself be repositioned into Jisten’s lap. He leaned against his strong mate, both wings unfurled now and sliding against Jisten’s frame.
“I wish I could fly with you,” Rak murmured, remembering his many dreams of he and Jisten mating on the wing.
Jisten corralled both wings with his arms and tried to enfold himself within them.
Rak helped, partially furling his wings and catching Jisten’s body within the structure of his spars, encasing him in wingsail. Jisten’s happy sigh made Rak smile.
“Why can’t you fly with me?” Jisten wanted to know. “I want to make love to you on the wing.”
Rak rubbed his crack against the bulge in Jisten’s pants. He wished fiercely that he didn’t have to bust Jisten’s dream. “Scorth will not cooperate. I would have to kite for us to manage anything. Otherwise, I cannot stay aloft long enough with you riding me for you to finish.”
Jisten’s sigh seemed heartfelt. His hand slid down inside Rak’s waistband until he had a buttock cupped. He squeezed Rak’s cheek and said, “You’ll have to think of some way to make it up to me.”