Chapter Twenty

T he moment they slipped into the hidden passageway, Eron claimed Kerric's mouth in a searing, toe-curling kiss, pouring in every bit of the lust he'd barely contained since waking up. He ran his hands over the firm muscles of Kerric's back.

Kerric held still. Had Eron made a mistake? Before he could pull away, Kerric wove his fingers into Eron's hair, holding tight while plundering Eron's mouth. They parted, resting the foreheads together, panted breaths mingling. The erection Eron discouraged a few moments ago returned with a vengeance.

"I know somewhere we can be alone, at least for a little while," Kerric said, voice low and promising wicked things.

Oh, the places Eron's mind went. He clung to Kerric as his knees went weak. Oh, yes, he wanted Kerric. Needed to use the vial he carried in his pocket at the first opportunity. He wouldn't question how it came to be in his rooms.

Kerric took Eron's hand. "Come."

Eron nearly did.

He followed Kerric up the stairs and then down an unused-looking hallway. By the glow of his mage light, he saw rough stone walls and floors, far cruder than the part of the castle he stayed in, and a dusty floor. "Where are we?"

"In the original keep. No one comes to this floor but for storage." Kerric's footfalls remained sure. He stopped at the last door in a row, fitted a key into the lock, and turned. The door opened with a small squeal of a hinge in need of attention.

Eron entered and stood in the center of the modest-sized room while Kerric shut the door and lit a fire in the hearth that must have been bespelled to have caught so quickly. Soon, the crackling flames gave enough light to see by.

"What is this place?" Eron asked. Kerric's wistful smile made Eron wonder if he should have remained quiet.

Kerric stood from the hearth and extended his hands toward the walls. "Welcome to my home."

"This is yours?"

"I shared these rooms with my mother when we first came to the castle. Miisov ensures it's tended to, though I must berate him about that hinge." Kerric shook his head, tutting.

"Why?"

"Out of guilt, I suspect. Perhaps I can return one day if the curse is broken." Kerric turned away, but not before Eron noticed the sorrow in his eyes.

The room was sparsely furnished but free of dust, with a small table, two chairs near the hearth, and a wooden bench on the other side. A rocking chair sat off to the side. Kerric's mother's? If everything had been sitting idle during Kerric's curse, maybe Miisov had cast a preservation spell.

Eron asked, "Won't people wonder who's here?"

Kerric scowled, stroking his chin. "Doubtful. They probably think it's Miisov if they notice anything at all. He spreads rumors that the keep is haunted, so no one comes here." He lit a candle and took Eron's hand, leading him through a doorway at the back of the room. A wicked smile replaced the melancholy that passed over Kerric's face.

That smile sent thoughts through Eron's mind again of being laid out on his bed, Kerric thrusting into him.

The second room was smaller than the first. It contained a bed large enough for two people who didn't mind getting close, a wooden chair, a washbasin and stand, a small table by the bed, and a clothes rack. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed.

All Eron needed was the bed.

Kerric placed the candle in a holder by the bed and approached Eron slowly, lips forming a graceful, upward curl. He took Eron's face between his hands, leaning in to kiss him, then he gripped Eron's lower lip in his teeth and tugged gently.

Eron moaned. He wasn't somewhere that someone might burst in at any moment. He was in Kerric's old home. The home Kerric likely missed when he stood his lonely vigil.

Kerric tipped his head a bit to the left, deepening a hungry kiss.

Eron pulled back and grabbed at Kerric's tunic, ordering, "Off!"

Kerric stepped away, smiling more fully now. "Yes, Your Highness."

Eron opened his mouth to protest the "Your Highness," but Kerric whipped his tunic over his head, baring a muscular chest covered in coarse silvery hair. An occasional scar marked the landscape but didn't detract from Kerric's beauty. Eron lost the ability to speak. He stared instead. He'd imagined what Kerric's body might look like, not giving the man nearly enough credit.

"By Avril, you're beautiful." Eron swore by the first deity to come to mind and closed the distance, attacking Kerric's neck and shoulder with his mouth.

Kerric groaned, angling his head to direct Eron's mouth to the perfect spots. Eron paid attention to what made Kerric moan, not to mention what caused the tent in Kerric's breeches. How Eron wished he could undress without breaking contact. He tongued Kerric's nipple, earning a gasp, then retreated.

He placed the mage light by the candle and removed his own tunic, showing a body finely honed by sword practice and climbing trees, walls, carriages, farm labor, or whatever else he might be called to do.

He stood back and watched as Kerric removed his boots, breeches, and small clothes, letting his hard cock spring free. What a gorgeous cock, long and thick, and…

Eron dropped to his knees, taking the head into his mouth. The musky scent and taste exploded in his senses, and he took Kerric deeper, burying his nose in the cushion of Kerric's pubic hair.

"Oh!" Kerric exclaimed, clutching the back of Eron's head, thigh muscles tense.

Eron released his mouthful to say, "You don't have to be gentle."

Kerric thrust into his mouth, thighs still trembling with the effort to hold back.

Oh, no. Not happening. Eron plunged downward, taking Kerric deep. Kerric groaned, holding still. Eron slowly eased back, lips tightly wrapped around Kerric's shaft.

"As wonderful as that feels, I need you up here." Kerric lifted Eron's arms until he stood. Eron removed the rest of his clothes, palming the vial from his pocket and tossing it on the bed when Kerric glanced away.

At last, they stood before each other naked, Eron breathing hard as though he'd run on foot all the way from his rooms. Even the hair on Kerric's arms, legs, and groin was silver. Old scars told tales of his life, as some did on Eron's, but they only added to the perfection that was Kerric.

They came together, mouth to mouth, body to body, Eron pushing his erection against Kerric's answering hardness.

As one, they moved to the bed, the support ropes beneath the mattress squeaking in protest. Eron laid on his back, Kerric climbing over him, supporting his weight on his powerful arms and thrusting, sliding their cocks together.

Eron ran his hand between their bodies, grasping both their cocks in his firm grip. To the sound of grunts, groans, and squeaking bed ropes, Eron rutted into his hand, reveling in the slide of his cock against Kerric's. He melded their mouths, capturing all of Kerric's breathy noises.

He'd bedded many men in his life, but never before had one meant more than a fleeting amusement, inspiring Eron to seek another's pleasure over his own. His toes curled, and he bucked into each thrust.

Kerric broke the kiss, keeping close enough to bathe Eron's face with his warm breath. "You feel so good against me. I never want this to end."

The words sent a spike of pure desire racing through Eron. He patted the bed and located the vial, which he offered to Kerric.

A puzzled frown scrunched his face a moment before he realized what Eron held. "Do you want me to…"

Eron growled, "Shut up and fuck me." He spread his legs in invitation and crooked his knees, open and ready.

Kerric pulled back and took the vial with shaking hands. He unstopped it and poured some of the contents onto two fingers. With far too much caution, he rubbed his slick fingers over Eron's entrance.

Eron thrust back, wanting to feel those fingers inside him, his cock painfully erect.

Slowly, oh so slowly, those two fingers working him opened, sinking in, then retreating before plunging in deeper until they hit his prostate. "Oh, damnation." Eron closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling and the knowledge that soon he'd have Kerric's cock inside him.

Those fingers withdrew, and Eron watched in fascination as Kerric spread oil onto his cock, giving himself a few good strokes.

"Now!" Eron demanded.

The look on Kerric's face bordered on a smirk. He lined himself up, the head of his cock pushing against Eron's hole.

Eron anticipated the burn, the stretch, longing for the fullness. Kerric sank in. Eron groaned. "That feels so damned perfect."

Kerric lifted Eron's feet onto his shoulders, balanced his weight on his arms, and buried himself in Eron's body. Eron writhed, digging his fingers into the bed covers. Too much and not enough all at the same time. His thoughts grew fuzzy, and all he could do was feel Kerric thrusting into him in long, powerful strokes.

Kerric bent awkwardly, taking Eron's mouth, tangling their tongues together. He retreated, staring down at Eron like no lover ever had before. Eron felt open and vulnerable yet desired and treasured.

He put weight on Kerric's shoulders so he could thrust upward, setting a faster, harder rhythm. The slap of skin against skin, the protests of the bed, and the moans from himself and Kerric kept Eron on edge. He fulfilled his fantasy by gripping Kerric's upper arm with one hand, losing himself in the flexing of powerful muscles as he stroked his cock with the other.

Time after time, he took Kerric inside him, each stroke bringing him closer to completion. He must hold on and make things good for Kerric as well. Then Kerric shifted, his cockhead hitting just the right spot… Eron couldn't have stopped his impending orgasm for all the coin in Ala.

Kerric's lips were on Eron's again, and Eron couldn't hold back the tide. With a muffled yell into Kerric's mouth, he came, convulsing as pulse after pulse erupted between their bodies. His hand slid easier. When the pressure almost proved too much for Eron's spent body, Kerric threw his head back, eyes closed. His eyes flew open as he gazed open-mouthed at Eron. Every muscle seized, and Kerric came with a long, low moan.

He closed his eyes once more, shook his head, held still, breathing erratic and a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

He'd never been more gorgeous.

Eron eased his feet off Kerric's shoulders with a groan of his own. That was… That was… He wasn't quite sure, but he'd been doing something wrong if this was what sex between two men should be like. They hadn't exchanged pretty words, nor had they drawn out their encounter. Eron couldn't have taken the wait. Next time, though, he'd take his time and be more thorough. Explore every inch of Kerric's body. Leave the man a shuddering, quivering mess of contentment.

Kerric eased out and flopped down on the bed.

Eron pulled Kerric into his arms. His heart raced against Kerric's ear, and he let out a laugh. How glorious. How absurd, stealing away to slake his lust with this man. A man who also happened to be a gargoyle. A gargoyle!

And unlike anyone Eron had ever met, even without the gargoyle part.

But how incredible. Eron had never felt so alive, not even while hunting under a full moon on a warm summer's evening. They lay entwined, Eron's breathing and heart rate slowing. The room was cool, but Kerric kept him warm. If he wasn't too sated to move, Eron might have suggested they climb beneath the covers or return to the main room and the fire.

Unprecedented contentment washed through him—a bit of calm within the storm.

Debauched looked good on Kerric. He'd also relaxed, languishing in the rumpled covers. He brushed a kiss to Eron's temple. "As pleasant as this is, now we must hurry. It wouldn't do for you to be late."

Eron groaned. What wouldn't he give to lie in bed with this gorgeous man, not have to enter the viper's nest of scheming nobles? Besides, Kerric still had a few old battle scars Eron hadn't kissed yet.

But Lessa waited for him. Eron must save her. He gave up his few moments of peace to return to his rooms and the role fate had laid out for him.

At the moment, he wasn't very happy with fate.

Eron stood before the polished silver mirror, looking every bit the prince he hadn't lived as since childhood, in a dark blue velvet tunic and black breeches tucked into tall black boots. Gold and silver threads formed vine patterns on the tunic.

Kerric tugged a seam into place, a pleased expression on his handsome face. "You look as regal as any who'll attend tonight."

"How did you learn to be a valet?" Eron brushed back a stray lock of hair.

"I told you. My mother was your mother's maid and confidante. I also helped take care of some of the servants' younger children."

Would Eron have learned to arrange hair if his younger sister had survived, or would that task have always fallen to his mother or a servant? "You make me long for the younger sister who died."

Kerric's voice was a low murmur. "My mother was there in the end. Your mother's last thoughts were for her husband and children."

Aha, a chance to learn more about Kerric. "If you don't mind me asking, whatever became of your family?" Dwelling too much on his own mother might reduce Eron to tears.

"I do not mind." Eron heard the smile in Kerric's voice without having to look directly. "After your mother passed, Mother could no longer bear to be here. Your father settled a goodly sum of coins on her, and Mother moved to Spolsia to live with her sister." A frown spread across Kerric's face, and he looked away. "I overheard that she died shortly after I was cursed, likely wondering what happened to her son."

"Do you miss her?" What kind of question was that? Eron missed his mother, and he barely remembered her.

Kerric's voice was choked. "Because of circumstances beyond my control, I didn't see her after she left the castle. I could not be with her at the end."

"Do you have any other family you'd like to see? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins? Once you can travel again?" Eron would want to see family. Couldn't wait to see Lessa and her sons.

"It's… complicated." Kerric quickly returned his gaze to Eron's face and moved to a different topic. "Now, remember Miisov's instructions. You cannot seek out Queen Lessa. If you find yourself close to her, make excuses to move away, but be unobtrusive. We don't want courtiers seeing you two with your very similar heads together, even if Miisov's illusion spells hold. Why tempt fate?"

Fate. Bah! "Where will you be?"

Kerric brushed imaginary lint from Eron's shoulders. "I'll be at my usual post on the ramparts but will be there if you need me. So far, I don't think any of Bain's men have noticed the missing gargoyle. The quality of soldiers has fallen since my time. Nevertheless, I'll keep watch for anyone who shouldn't be there. Miisov doesn't want me near the ballroom. My appearance hasn't changed enough to hide me, and the silver hair would draw unwanted attention. Crau knows me very well."

Was that an invitation to visit? Eron could hope.

Kerric ushered Eron toward the door with a hand to the small of his back. "I'm glad the days are short during the fall season, allowing us our time alone. However, now you must join the other nobles. You are to arrive in time to socialize, but not too early. The less you mingle with these vultures, the better, and the less opportunity to come face to face with your sister. Immediately after the meal, approach the main table, pay your respects to the king and his guests, and then return to your rooms. Your guards will attest to your being here all night."

"I think Bain underestimates me." Eron grinned. "That's never gone well for people in the past."

Kerric made a final adjustment to Eron's tunic, his hands lingering in certain places, causing pleasant feelings in Eron's chest and stomach. "I would imagine not, Lordling Night." He brushed a kiss over Eron's hair.