Page 48 of Immortal Sentry

While Kerric hated getting out of bed into the cold—especially when warmed by a willing body—he loved the snow and the many holidays and festivals of the colder seasons. He recalled an incident in which Eron had dressed as a servant and snuck out to play with village children who slid down snowy hillsides on wide wooden planks.

Kerric had been dispatched to retrieve the errant prince but took his time. Eron’s smiles and whoops of laughter had been a precious gift to a man with no family or prospects for one.

Eron stopped abruptly. “Captain Kerric. I remember now. You used to take me up to the ramparts. Let me look over my father’s kingdom.”

“Yes.” Would Eron suddenly find him too old? What was he thinking? Most of the nobility wouldn’t even consider a common guard like Kerric, let alone a prince, though several young lords and ladies once flirted for fun. Look at what happened to Dafron and Elzabai.

“You haven’t aged, have you? I remember thinking how handsome you were in your uniform. But though you don’t appear to have gotten older, your hair and eyes match the stone of the gargoyle—a silvery color.”

“Even Miisov couldn’t explain why.”

“I always felt secure in your presence.” Eron’s words emerged on a nearly inaudible whisper.

“You can do so now, for I’m sworn to protect you.” Warmth bloomed in Kerric’s soul, knowing Eron had felt safe with him. He’d cut out his own heart before letting his prince down.

“Because you want to, or do you simply want to break the curse?” Eron added no accusation to the words. “I couldn’t blame you if breaking the curse and freeing yourself and your men was your only reason.”

Words stuck in this throat when Kerric opened his mouth, but the answer wasn’t long coming. He dropped to one knee, glanced around carefully, and whispered on barely a breath, “Whether as a young noble or as you are now, I pledge my sword and my loyalty to you, Prince Eron Eritrescue, the rightful king of Hisar.”

By moon and mage light, Kerric looked into Eron’s intense gaze to see so much more than the expected bland expression and denials of wanting to be king. Eron held out a hand, helping Kerric to his feet. “Gods… the number of men who’ve fallen to their knees before me. What if I want more from you than your sword or loyalty?” He drew Kerric into a kiss.

Kerric should pull away. Nothing could come of this. They had plans to make, plans to thwart, and plans for Eron as king.

No, nothing could come of anything between them.

If Kerric understood this, why couldn’t he pull away and stop kissing Eron? Instead, he wound his arms around Eron’s sinewy body, pulling him close as though powerful arms alone could keep him from harm.

“The gazebo…” Eron retreated enough to whisper.

“What?”

“I just remembered a gazebo nearby my father had built for my mother. I once found a cook with a valet there.” He grasped Kerric’s hand, leading him deeper into the gardens.

The gazebo loomed ahead of them, draped in shadows and vines. Eron collapsed onto a bench, pulling Kerric along with him and resealing their mouths together.

Kerric's heart beat wildly from the thrill of being with this man and the fear of being caught. Old habits were hard to break, and he’d been berated roundly once for being in the royal gardens alone—though he’d been a mere lad.

Now, he was a full-grown man with another man in his arms. Warmth flooded the small space. “Wha…?”

Eron snickered. “That’s why the maids liked to come here. It’s been bespelled to be warm when occupied, even in the coldest of weather.”

So, the legends of mages weaving spells into the castle’s construction were true, not myth.

Eron dropped to his knees between Kerric’s legs, tugging on his breeches while unlacing them with nimble fingers, and released Kerric’s erection.

Before Kerric could stop him, Eron wrapped his warm mouth around Kerric’s cock. Kerric moaned. It had been so damnably long, even before the curse. He hadn’t the strength to fight, giving in to the exquisite torture of Eron’s mouth, tongue, and ever so lightly, teeth, digging his fingers into the silken curls of Eron’s dark hair.

He bucked upward, trying to be gentle, but every instinct cried out for more. His “I don’t want to hurt you” might not have reached Eron’s ears, but maybe so, for Eron released what might’ve been a laugh and went deeper, taking Kerric into his throat.

Oh, by every god or goddess ever worshipped! Kerric grew powerless to control his own body, rocking his hips along with Eron’s energetic bobbing. He wouldn’t last long, and he tightened his fingers in Eron’s hair. “I’m close.”

Eron hummed around his mouthful, the sound and vibration sending Kerric over the edge into ecstasy. He pulsed his seed into Eron’s mouth, Eron taking every drop.

When at last Eron released Kerric’s cock, Kerric pulled him upward, slammed their mouths together, and tasted his own spend. He had cum in the prince’s mouth. No, the soon-to-be-king’s mouth.

And loved every moment.

Eron rose, leaving Kerric seated on the bench. Sated and relaxed, Kerric brought his breathing back under control, undoing the placket of Eron’s breeches to return the favor. The warm scent of Eron’s skin threatened to send Kerric’s flagging erection back to full hardness. Eron’s heady groans nearly undid Kerric.

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