Page 38 of Immortal Sentry

Miisov ignored Kerric’s comment as well as his nearly orgasmic enjoyment of the fruit. “Backward men like usurper Bain wouldn’t stand for a queen ruling now, especially as it would mean he was dead. More than one assassin would come after her. You must protect Prince Eron during the night while you can and, therefore, protect his sister and nephews in the process. No one expects you here, so as long as you’re discreet, you should have free access to the castle. Because of your many patrols, you also have a vast knowledge of the hidden routes and passageways.”

“What of my men? Can’t you free them?” Kerric could assign Malcolm to watch over Queen Lessa and some of his other men to protect her sons.

He’d guard Prince Eron himself.

“Alas, to do so would likely take more energy than I have, though I am trying. I shall keep watch during the day and set what wards I can. Besides, as a visiting noble, I doubt Eron will be left alone very often, except to carry out his task.”

A knife twisted in Kerric’s gut. Jealousy? No, certainly not. Fear for Eron only. Eron. Alive. Kerric’s heart swelled, though the precocious child he’d once helped onto the ramparts had grown into a stunning man. If Kerric hadn't failed in his duty, King Lothan and Prince Dafron would still be here as well, and Princess Lessa wouldn't have been forced to marry a horrid man who’d likely killed his previous queen. “You know I can find Prince Eron tonight, but spare me some time and tell me where he is.”

Miisov met Kerric’s gaze. “He’s been assigned to his old rooms. Do you remember their location?”

“Yes.” How could Kerric have forgotten, as many times as he’d escorted the young scamp back to where he’d belonged when he strayed? Which had been often.

Miisov stared for a few more minutes. “Your pale blue eyes were quite beautiful, but they’re even more striking as silver.”

I’ll strike you, you old fool.

The evening hadn’t grown late enough for Kerric to simply stroll down the corridor of what used to be the heirs’ wing. Then, there was the matter of the guards assigned to Eron. Instead, Kerric took a lantern into the darkened servants’ stairs on the fourth landing. He held it aloft but saw nothing out of place. His knife caught in a crevice as he ran the blade over the stone. Ah-ha! He pushed the blade in until aclicksounded. The panel swung open, emitting a cloud of dust. Chances were, no one had come this way since the battle that had ended King Lothan’s life.

Kerric shuffled over the dusty floor, returned the panel to its place, and resumed his trek. If memory served, the door he sought would be somewhere around here. He darkened his lantern and placed his eye to a barely perceptible peephole to ensure an empty room before entering.

His mouth went dry. A man with dark curly hair lay in a tub, head resting along the back, hairy arms on the tub’s edges. He stayed still for several moments. Had he fallen asleep?

He suddenly plunged underwater, coming up with wet hair, scrubbing at his stubbled face with his hand. Prince Eron. Kerric should look away. He really should.

But he couldn’t. The prince’s arms and chest were solidly built, and the mat of dark hair on his chest made Kerric want to comb his fingers through those soft curls. So long without a man.…

No, Kerric couldn’t think that way. This was his prince, who’d take no notice of a lowly guard.

How had such a vision of a man gone from prince to highwayman?

Kerric stared, transfixed, as Prince Eron washed his hair. He didn’t act like many nobles Kerric had known who insisted on being attended by servants while bathing, or maybe Bain hadn’t offered any. No, Eron would have sent them away. The independence struck a chord with Kerric, who’d been self-sufficient since age ten.

Eron rose from the bath after several more moments of soaking, water sluicing from his exquisite form. Whipcord lean, with taut muscles and well-defined chest, arms, legs, and… gods! That firm, round ass nearly made Kerric cry. He bit his knuckle to prevent a whimper from escaping. Dark hair formed an amazing trail down Eron’s abdomen to where Kerric wanted to be.

What a beautiful man. And that wasn’t simply seasons of forced abstinence speaking. Eron stepped from the tub and reached for a bathing sheet lying on a nearby chair. Dark hair also covered his legs. Would it be coarse or soft when Kerric skimmed his hands over Eron’s skin? What delicious scent would Kerric find when he buried his nose in the mat of black hair surrounding Eron’s cock?

The door slammed open. Two armed men stormed in with swords drawn, both wearing royal guard’s uniforms. The first slashed at Eron.

Eron rolled, coming up behind them. A swift kick put one headfirst into the tub. Water splashed onto the floor.

Two against an unarmed, naked man? Never! Kerric shot out of the hidden panel, sword in one hand, while throwing his dagger with the other. The blade sunk into the second guard’s chest. He fell to his knees, then toppled over backward.

Eron held the first guard’s head underwater, muscles corded and teeth clenched together in a grimace.

The guard flailed, sending up bubbles and nearly throwing Eron off. Eron climbed onto the man’s back, redoubling his efforts.

The guard’s flailing calmed to an occasional thrash and, finally, stilled. Eron stood, fully naked, chest heaving. “Are you here to kill me, too?” he asked without turning in Kerric’s direction.

Kerric remained rooted to the spot, enthralled by the generous muscles of Eron’s back, buttocks, and legs. How expertly he’d dispatched the assassin. “No.”

Eron turned. “You’re dressed as they are, though your uniform appears older. If you’re not here to kill me, I give you my thanks and wonder how you gained access to my rooms.”

“Later.” Kerric dropped to one knee over the guard he’d skewered and removed his dagger. He wiped the blade on the guard’s clothes as Eron pulled the other guard from the bath. The corpse slapped wetly to the floor.

Kerric turned to find a naked Eron kneeling by the body. “This isn’t a guard,” Eron said.

Kerric joined him, trying not to fixate on the lovely man’s nakedness. “Why do you say that?”

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