Page 21 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

Still better was waking up to Whelan kissing down his chest and stomach, sending a flush of heat through his body. It built with every gentle touch before the dhemon took his hard cock in his mouth. Madan groaned as the sleep rushed from his body. That familiar fire took up residence in his veins with every touch. Before opening his eyes, he swept his hand up Whelan’s arm to guide his way to the dhemon’s horns. He gripped it hard, the annuli fitting perfectly between his fingers, and worked his hips.

They moved together, and when he finally cracked open his eyes, Madan cursed. Riding through the waves of pleasure was one thing, but seeing the way Whelan’s lips wrapped around him, taking every inch, heightened every sensation. Every draw of his tongue along his shaft. Every grip of his fingers on his ass. Every brush of his hair along his thighs.

“Fuck,” Madan breathed as that fire built into an inferno. He released the horn to provide the dhemon with more freedom from his own eagerness. “Whelan, I—”

But Whelan was already moving—already anticipating his wants. His needs. He slid Madan’s cock from his mouth and hooked an arm under his thigh to push his leg up high. The dhemon stroked himself, rubbing oil along the full length of his cock, and smirked down at him with that heady, knowing glint in his red eyes.

Then he draped his huge, heavy body over him and eased himself into Madan. Whelan groaned long and low, his eyes closing to relish his own rush of pleasure.

Likewise, Madan cursed again, the sensation of fullness building with each slow thrust. He moaned as every pump of Whelan’s hips stroked that perfect place while the dhemon wrapped his fingers around Madan’s length and pumped in cadence.

Now, the inferno roared, the heat weaving throughout his body as they moved together. Yet each time he felt ready to shatter, his body tensing and his mouth gaping open, Whelan slowed to a stop. His fingers dug into Madan’s hip.

“Patience,” Whelan rumbled in the dhemon language, then kissed him hard so their tongues entangled as much as their bodies. “You’ll come when I say you come.”

When Madan’s muscles unclenched, Whelan continued, savoring each pulse. Their rhythm built together, growing more fierce and demanding, and soon they were both slick with sweat and breathing heavily.

Madan drew his tongue along the long, pointed shell of Whelan’s ear before nipping at it lightly with his fang. The dhemon hissed, and he lazily licked the blood away, the metallic taste of it driving him mad. It surged through him, beginning that whole-body cracking sensation once more.

This time, Whelan didn’t stop him. He thrust hard and deep again and again. Madan grappled to cling to his slick back or horn—anything to keep him from sliding too far up the bed as each powerful thrust pushed him over the edge physically and metaphorically.

“Now. Come for me,” Whelan demanded, the tip of his spiraling horn pressing hard against Madan’s throat as he hung his head, panting.

And they broke together. Madan’s body tensed and shattered, and Whelan went rigid, his cock throbbing inside him. Wet heat spread across his stomach from his own release.

Sitting back, Whelan gave him a lazy grin. He eased his length out and collapsed beside him, cobalt chest still breathing deep. “You’re a mess.”

“And whose fault is that?” Madan tugged the tip of his horn with a hooked finger.

“You’re supposed to meet with Lord Knoll tonight.”

Madan sat up fast, mind reeling. “Fuck. I completely forgot.”

The Lord Steward had sent a message the previous evening announcing the Council’s intention of naming Madan Lord Governor. There’d been no official reason given for Azriel’s notable absence, though he assumed Markus had either exposed his brother completely or developed a cunning lie to hide behind.

Given his daughter had married Azriel, Madan suspected the latter.

“You can always tell him to come back another night,” Whelan drawled, his hand sliding up Madan’s back and his fingers twisting into the shoulder-length hair.

A wave of heat rushed through him at the thought of another round with the dhemon, but he shook his head. “I need to get this over with.”

Whelan sighed, releasing his grip. “Fine. I will draw a bath and be waiting for you, then.”

Madan shot him a heady glare, then clambered off the bed. He stalked, knees still wobbly, to the washroom where he cleaned himself up before dressing for the evening. The finely tailored clothes still felt strange on his body—a bit too tight and restricting—even after so many weeks of wearing them.

“Your ass looks good in those trousers.” Whelan’s red eyes tracked Madan as he made for the door.

He looked back at the dhemon still draped naked across the bed. Damn, he was beautiful. His cock throbbed in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

Before he could be sidetracked any more by his partner, Madan exited the room and made his way down the corridor. Family paintings lined the walls. He hated them and had long since wanted to take them down. While Azriel’s sentimental heart continued to ache for what could have been, Madan’s brief memories of the manor as a child were not pleasant.

Only three remained in good standing with him: one of his grandmother, one of his mother—heavily pregnant with him and holding Azriel’s small hand, and the recently completed wedding portrait of Azriel and Ariadne.

Those were the only family members he cared to remember. Even in his final years, his grandfather had been a callous and wicked man despite the way he’d finally softened to the dhemons. He’d only done so in memory of his daughter. If he could see how many dhemons now prowled the Caldwell Estate, he’d be furious at the desecration of what he considered to be a private and holy land.

At least Garth Caldwell had been correct about one thing: the land was holy. For the dhemons. Which was exactly why the Caersan ancestors had snatched it away from them.

If Azriel had a problem with any of them missing upon his return, they’d discuss it as they always did. Loudly and with a plethora of foul words.

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