Page 29 of Blinding Light

A fake yawn, followed by more snickers. Then the scraping of a chair. Cyprian jumped when Moargan got up and approached his drawing. “Hmm,” he hummed, taking in the lines of his sister’s reflection. When their eyes met, his flashed dangerously. Moargan was challenging him and had come into his class to show him he could do whatever he wanted. “Who’s that?”

Cyprian shrugged. “No one I know.”

“I don’t like liars.”

The class fell quiet.

“I, uhm—it’s Nikkie,” Cyprian managed. His mind filled with memories of her smiling face.

“Who’s Nikkie?” Professor Dai asked.

“My sister. My favorite sister.”

Moargan raised his eyebrows. “How many sisters do you have?”

“I’ve got three. They live with my parents back home.”

Moargan hummed again. “And where’s home now, Xander?” Their eyes met.

“In a small place, in Tulniri,” Cyprian stammered. Good light, he knew something. Cyprian was sure of it.

“...in Tulniri?” Moargan cocked his head, amethyst eyes flaring with annoyance. “That’s not true, and you know it. I’m going to ask you again. Where’s your home now, Xander?” His voice had faded to a menacing volume that only increased the tension around Cyprian’s heart.

Professor Dai took that moment to jump out of his seat. He clapped his hands. “Alright class, let’s get back to our work. Perhaps you can show the Imperial how you work, Xander, while the rest of us continue our next class? You are more than welcome to stay, Imperial Moargan.”

Moargan didn’t as much as flinch, his gaze locked with Cyprian’s. Around them chairs scraped the floor, followed by the Professor’s voice. It was nothing more than a background noise to the rattling of his mind.

Cyprian turned to his canvas, his charcoal already between his fingers. His hand was shaking. “Let me show you my technique.” Lifting his pencil, he brought the tip closer to Nikkie’s mouth, ignoring how his body reacted to Moargan as he came up behind him. Goosebumps prickled the back of his neck, and he could swear he felt the brush of lips on his nape. The hand on his ass could not be imaginary. The touch warm and possessive.

“Your home, Xander,” Moargan growled in his ear. “Trust me, you don’t want me to repeat my question a third time.”

Cyprian breathed in the scent of sea char in an attempt to calm his overstimulating mind. “What do you want me to say?”

“You know what I want to hear. I staked my claim on you last night.”

“You can’t just—” Cyprian turned over his shoulder.

“Finish your phrase,” Moargan hissed. “If you dare. You think I can’t claim you?” He let out a forced laugh that made the others look up.

Cyprian’s face flushed with embarrassment and something else. Something that was too close to a sick version of hope and had to be smothered in its fragile wake. The hand on his ass clenched tighter, and Moargan pulled Cyprian closer to his chest. “With you,” Cyprian whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure if this was what the other man wanted to hear.

“That’s right.” Moargan dipped his chin, brushing his lips over Cyprian’s throat for the entire class to see, halting at that same spot where he’d bruised his skin during their first encounter. It was still tender. His teeth scraped the skin, nipping and biting until he drew blood. Pain and pleasure made Cyprian’s toes curl, and he swallowed a moan before the others could hear. “So I suggest you come home tonight, or I’ll have to come out and drag you back to my lair. See you later, littleaeon. Then you can explain about your art in the privacy of our home. Oh, and don’t walk away like that anymore. It’s useless and time-consuming. If I have to chain you, I will. Have I made myself clear?”

A hand wrapped around Cyprian’s clothed, hard dick and he hissed. “Yes.” His admission sounded like a heated moan.

Moargan chuckled. “That’s a good boy. Just remember, beautiful. You are mine.”

9

Bewilderment. Fear. Hope. It had all been there in those mesmerizing eyes. Xander hadn’t believed him, hadn’twantedto believe him, and had tried to slither away in the shadows.

Too bad he was already Moargan’s.

And he wasn’t lying. He had claimed him. He wasn’t sure why, other than the obvious. Helianth was right, Xander was stunning. Innocent, sweet, creative.

And a little liar.

There was something else though. Something he couldn’t quite place. This primal need to own Xander. Whenever he thought of him, there was a physical reaction. It made his stomach tighten and his veins fill with sparks that caused a delicious thrum.

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