When Warin, a sorcerer, needs a large amount of coins to rescue his sister from her abductor, he chooses to abduct someone himself. And he selects the man he has been lusting after ever since sharing a secret, sensual moment at court months earlier -- Benedict, the beautiful and illegitimate son of the king.
At first, Benedict is reluctant to give into forbidden desires, but he cannot resist the enigmatic sorcerer’s pull. Yet when he surrenders to his lust, he’s also not sure whether it’s of his own free will or because of a spell Warin cast on him.
As the men grow closer, however, they realize that when the ransom is paid, Benedict must be released and Warin must flee from punishment. Will they be able to end their passionate affair and separate, or will they fight to stay together, even if it means facing the king’s wrath?
Benedict tugged at the shackles locked to his wrists. It started to come back to him. Samson and the others were escorting him home and then ...
"Fight all you want, you can't get out of those."
Lord, he was naked, too. Benedict stared at his bare flesh lit by what seemed to be dozens of wall sconces. Yet where was the voice coming from?
"You might be a little dizzy still. It takes some adjustment to come back from that particular spell."
Benedict blinked, his head hurt. Spell? Then he really had been shrunk? And his men…had they been killed?
"I'm not going to hurt you, your highness."
That man. He'd fallen from the tree. A dark angel. But not an angel. Something far more sinister.
"I'm…I'm not a prince," Benedict said softly, finding his voice, seeming to speak to no one.
"You are the king's son."
"A bastard son only."
"Ah, but you are infinitely more than that to the king. You are well-favored."
Benedict shook his head. "Who are you? Why do you hide yourself and where are my men and my ... clothes?"
A low rumbling chuckle was his only answer for several moments.
There was movement by the door, but still Benedict could see no one there. "What trickery is this?"
"I know not the whereabouts of your men currently. Or whether they live to tell of their failure to protect you. If they did survive no doubt your father will see to their execution. They are no longer a concern to you, your highness. As for your clothes ... you do not need them for what I have in mind. You are my prisoner and are mine to do with as I please."
Benedict's heartbeat raced. He swallowed the lump of fear forming in his throat.
"As for who I am, your highness? We met once, though I think you do not recall me. It was a year ago at your father's court."
Benedict tried to recall meeting the dark angel who'd fallen from the tree and then attacked them. He would have thought he would recall a man that attractive. Before the attack, Benedict had been thrown by the masculine beauty of the man.
Though most of his life he resisted his attraction to men, Benedict hadn't been able to prevent his cock from growing half-hard just looking at the man. Dark curly hair, soulful dark eyes with impossibly long lashes, the man from the tree had instantly reminded him of a fallen angel. Only now, it was clear just how far the angel had fallen. The devil's apprentice, no doubt. Had he been able, Benedict would have crossed himself.
"Think, your highness. Think hard. You had much to drink that night and in a dark hidden corner you allowed ..."