Sorcerer Warin and illegitimate prince Benedict were torn apart just as they were on the verge of a new life together. Imprisoned for his own good by his half-brother and heir-to-the-throne, Benedict dreams of being reunited with Warin.
The lovers subsist on a handful of stolen encounters even as Warin plans to free Benedict. As the king lies near death, a rebellion against the heir is plotted.
But when the chance to escape during an attack on the castle presents itself, Benedict and Warin stay behind to fight. Will they be forced to sacrifice their chance for love and happiness for honor?
Benedict moved restlessly to the window again, looking out. Thick clouds hung in the sky, some reaching low to the ground to form mist. The air was heavy and damp.
The tiny hairs on his neck rose suddenly. He turned sharply to face the room. His heartbeat flipped, then sped up. "Who's there?"
At first no answer followed his question, yet he felt a presence.
"Hush, your highness," a familiar voice whispered next to his ear.
Lips pressed the pulse at his throat; teeth nipped. Benedict shook with instant, fiery need. His now-hard cock pressed uncomfortably against his braies and hose.
"Warin, say something, please."
"Shh, Benedict. It is I."
Invisible arms enwrapped him, pulling his body tight against a muscled torso. He felt Warin's erection against his ass. Though he could not deny Warin's magical powers frightened him, Benedict closed his eyes and gave himself up to his lover's caress.
"You must be very quiet, your highness. You do not wish to cause Gerard to come bursting in to your rescue."
Benedict nodded. "How is it you are here? How long have you been in the room?"
"I am no ghost, Benedict, I cannot walk through walls. I entered when you opened the door to speak to yon guard. Your timing was fortuitous." Warin kissed Benedict's ear. "I arrived at your brother's contemptible fortress this afternoon. I have been seeking a way to see you since."
"I prayed you were safe."
"Shh, I do not wish to waste our limited time together on words."
Warin pushed Benedict's shirt up to under his arms, and his fingers stroked Benedict's abdomen. He took the hint and removed the offending garment, tossing it on a small table beside the bed.
"We are alone now," Benedict whispered. "Can I not see you?"
Warin's mouth found his, a warm tongue parting Benedict's lips, slipping between them. He moaned low. He felt himself being pushed toward the bed until his legs against it stopped further movement.
"No," Warin said. "Mayhap next time, your highness. Now, we must be very careful."
Warin's hands tugged at the rest of his clothes. Benedict pushed away the unseen hands and quickly shed them himself. Warin turned him then, and pushed him onto his stomach.