Page 102 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

After leaving Brutis at the farthest reaches of Monsumbra, not daring to fly closer with the rivers of red running between the buildings, he ran through the forest as fast as his feet could carry him, each breath burning. If a commanding officer had come to his home in search of him and found Whelan…

He couldn’t bear to think of what would have happened. No questions would’ve been asked. Only action. Only an immediate disposal of who the Caersan would likely believe to be an intruder. For soldiers never traveled to homes alone. His partner—the only man he’d ever loved and ever would love—would be outnumbered.

At the estate grounds, crimson-clad soldiers spoke with the head of the few guards he still employed. Each of them knew of the dhemons coming and going. Each had been thoroughly vetted to ensure privacy. Each functioned under the threat of immediate death were they to speak of what occurred within the confines of his home. And every single one of them turned as he burst from the edge of the forest.

“Lord Governor!” a soldier hailed him, hand raised in greeting.

But Madan didn’t look back. He burst through the front doors of the Caldwell Estate, his heart beating so hard and fast he was certain it would burst from his chest.

“Whelan!” The name tore from his lungs like fire as he shot through the front door. He slammed it behind him, and a servant scrambled out of the way as he flew through the foyer to the sweeping staircase.

His heart thundered in his ears. Hot tears pricked at his eyes. He tripped on the steps to the second floor, where their suite lay in the north wing.

A silhouette emerged from their suite, a wide pair of red eyes swiveling to him in alarm. Madan’s knees gave out at the sight of Whelan. The dhemon wrapped his arms around him, catching him before he could hit the floor.

“Alhija,” Whelan crooned soft and steady before continuing in the dhemon tongue, “what is wrong?”

“The soldiers.” Madan buried his face into the crook of Whelan’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. The feeling of his partner’s hands eased the panicked tension in his chest. “When I couldn’t speak with Oria, I thought—”

“No, no.” Whelan leaned back from him, forcing Madan to look up into his beautiful face. “Oria is hunting. I sent everyone else away in time. They came and searched the house but didn’t find me.”

Madan gaped at him, stroking a loose strand of black hair back behind the base of his horn. “Searched the house?”

“For Ariadne.” Whelan shifted closer to his touch, closing his eyes for a heartbeat. “Margot told them you were in another village and that she’d gone with you. I’m glad you’re home.”

Swallowing hard, Madan pressed his mouth to Whelan’s. The dhemon hummed in contentment, lips parting for him. Knots of worry eased, and Madan curled his fingers around a horn, holding him close as they kissed. He hooked his short arm around his partner’s waist, wishing he could still feel the man beneath fingers he no longer had.

“Mmm,” Whelan growled, rolling his hips against him. “I am eager to take you back to bed with me and show you just how glad I am to have you back.”

Madan cracked open his eyes. “Why don’t you, then?”

It wasn’t as though Whelan hadn’t ever tossed him over his shoulder and done just that many times before. Madan only wished he had the strength to do the same to him.

“Because you’re a busy man, Lord Governor.” Whelan kissed his neck, hands on his hips to hold their bodies together. His erection pressed against Madan’s stomach, and gods, how he wanted to not have those clothes separating them. But then Whelan stepped back and said, “Lord Knoll sent a request to meet with you last night. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sure it could wait.” Madan slid his hand between them to grip Whelan’s cock through his trousers.

The dhemon groaned deep in his throat, pushing into his palm. “But if I give in to your demands now…what will keep you in suspense until the morning?”

“As though I wouldn’t come running back for you?”

“Oh, I know you will.” Whelan cupped the back of his neck to tilt his head back so he could draw his tongue along the length of his artery. “And you’ll be on your knees the moment I call.”

Madan moaned at the thought. He tightened his grip, wanting nothing more than to push the dhemon against the wall, unbuckle his trousers, and take his thick length into his mouth right then. It’d been all he could think about on his flight back, and after the rush of terror—not knowing if Whelan was safe—he could think of no better way to release that tension than reassuring himself of his partner’s safety in the most primal way.

“But not yet,” Whelan said with a smirk. “Meet with the Lords, then return to me, and we’ll finish this.”

As much as Madan hated the idea of waiting, his own erection drawing his attention, he knew his duties as the Lord Governor needed to be attended to first. Particularly since he’d been away for almost a week, tending to some unnamed village.

“You’re a tease.” Madan took a step back, adjusting himself with a grunt. “I should clean up first anyway.”

A wicked glint sparked in Whelan’s gaze. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

Madan shook his head. “Fucking rude.”

“It’s not my fault you stink like a dragon.”

“I thought you enjoyed sulfur.”

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