“I am ripe. Perhaps we should wash our—” I started to say.

  “It would be foolish to wash ourselves before we fuck,” he slid in between nips. A shudder ran through me. Had he ever spoken so roughly before? I could not recall it, but I enjoyed it. “And I do hope to spend deep inside you if you enjoy being the mare on occasion?”

  “Ihdos bless me,” I whispered, my voice gone. “I would enjoy that a great deal with you.”

  His mouth captured mine once more. With the grace of a drunken hill bison, I stumbled over bits of armor, nearly tumbling us both into the tub, before finding the bed with my knees. We fell onto the bedding as one, the cries of the sellers in the market below fading into nothingness as he licked into my mouth. With a hand on my chest, he pushed gently, and I went eagerly to my back, taking him with me.

  “Do you feel up to this?” Teryn asked as he straddled my thighs. I looked down at my cock, slippery with preseed, and then back to him.

  “I think I feel up to this,” I teased, the slight ache at the base of my head just that. Slight. My gut was tender from the wounds and being ill, but my cock was stiff as a newly hewn board. Teryn chuckled, slithered down to rest his arse on my shins and then took the slick head of my prick into his mouth. My back arched as he tongued the slit, his hand cupping my balls. The tug he gave my stones made me hiss. He slipped his lips around the whole of my cock, amber eyes alight, and took me down his throat. The sting of his pull on my balls was forgotten as he slid back up and then went down again. He rolled my stones roughly, making me groan aloud. I opened my thighs wide. He moved to nestle between my legs. When he pulled off, he licked a hot stripe down the backside of my cock to suckle on my stones. The pressure was just shy of painful. My cock kicked in warning.

  “That is…I am close,” I warned and sighed when he released my left stone.

  “You are heady tasting,” he purred, eyeing my cock as one would a fine meal. “I adore the taste of you…the smell of you.” His tiny gold charms tickled my thigh. Spittle coated his chin. He rubbed his smooth cheek against my cock like a cat marking the corner of a chair as his fingers deftly moved under my sac. A gasp escaped me when he found his goal, tracing the edges of my entrance with a fingertip slick with spit. “Above you on the headboard is a small cabinet filled with carnal wonders.” My eyes rounded.

  “Is this a brothel?” I asked as I rushed to reach up to the small ornate cupboard on the wall. The door opened with a flick of a brass latch.

  “It is a place where people sleep, eat, and love.” He kissed the head of my cock as he toyed with my hole. Rolling my head back, I saw several bottles of varying colors. “Pick any of them. They are all oils for lovemaking, just different scents.”

  “Which is sand sage?” I asked breathlessly.

  “The soft yellow should be.” He pressed on my hole while dropping tender kisses along my length. I grabbed it, popped the cork, and inhaled that exotic, warm, earthy smell that would forever be associated with Teryn Nouradi in my mind. I poured some onto my stomach. His eyes crinkled as he grinned and dipped his fingers into the puddle. I rubbed the oil into my skin and then took my cock in hand. He wasted no time. My prick was slick now, sliding with ease in my fist. “You are a glorious sight.”

  “Open me,” I begged as I worked my prick. “I wish to feel you inside me when I spend.”

  I moaned softly when two fingers pushed into me. It had been some time since I’d been the one receiving cock, but the burn was just as pleasant as I recalled. My grip slackened on my cock as he worked to stretch me. Golden eyes watched me while he pumped two then three fingers in and out of my hole, touching that place inside that made my body shake like a tremor of the earth.

  “Now,” I begged, my slippery fist tightening on my prick. He eased his fingers out and crawled between my legs, pressing my thighs into my chest. I lost contact with my aching cock as he moved over me, lowering his head to lick into my mouth. My hands roamed over his back to his ass, pressing him downward, his cockhead at my opening. “Now,” I groaned.

  “Patience, my love,” he whispered, lifting the bottle from the bedding where I had thrown it. A small amount of oil remained. Most had leaked out onto the downy mattress under us. There was a small niggle of guilt over that, but the remorse quickly faded. Teryn coated his cock with the oil. I could not look away as he guided his prick to my hole. His gaze met mine.

  “Now, please, I am…”

  What I had planned to say floated off on a deep, low moan as he eased into me. I placed a hand on his hip to pull him deeper. The stretch made me wince. He stopped, arms locked, hands splayed out on either side of my head.

  “Do not stop,” I whispered as my body adjusted to his prick. “Never stop.”

  He stole a kiss, placed his hands on my shins, and rocked into me with a thrust that ripped the air from me. Somehow he went deeper still on the next plunge. His cock brushed against that tender nub deep inside. I howled like a wolf and then took my cock back into my fist. Two long strokes brought me to my pinnacle. Ropey strings of spend coated my hand, fingers, and palm. Some hit my stomach and chest. Teryn groaned as I tightened around his cock as it shuttled in and out of my tender ass. His shoulders bowed, his head fell forward, making the tiny charms ring out softly, and his cock thickened. With a final stab of his hips, he came apart. Seed warming my channel then leaking out around his prick as he rolled his pelvis in a sinful circle.

  “Oh…Teryn…mighty gods,” I huffed while milking my cock for each droplet of spend. His seed oozed from me, down the cleft of my ass to soak into the already fouled sheets. “The washerwomen…will demand…double pay for cleaning our…bedding.”

  “I will pay them triple,” he countered, lifting his head to gaze down at me. Emotions welled up within me. Feelings that I should not be having. Fingers smeared with my spend, I touched his puffy lips. The tip of a pink tongue slid out to lap at my fingertip. “Pasil, this thing between us…” I ran my fingers along his chin, his jaw, and his earring to touch the tiny symbols. “This thing…you do feel its strength, do you not?”

  I rubbed the smallest charm between my fingers as I lost myself in his eyes. “I do, yes, there is no reason to deny it any longer.” He eased out of me. My legs were cramping, but when I stretched them out, the tightness lessened. Teryn moved to my side, flicking the empty oil bottle to the floor where it hit with a soft tinkle and rolled under the bed. “My question is what do we do about this thing betwixt us?”

  Teryn, always the calm one, pressed a kiss to my brow. “We bathe.” He leapt from the bed and stood beside it, looking down at me spread over the covers like one of the pink starfish that clung to the rocky shores of Celear. I felt my forehead furrow. “You worry overly about things that have no bearing on our mission, my sweet. Come, let us wash the sea salt and spend from our skin. Then we shall eat, nap, and make our way out come dark.”

  “Not to be blunt, Teryn, but fucking and bathing seem to be—”

  “They seem to be ways to keep our hearts pure and our wits sharp. Now please, come bathe with me. I would wash your back for you.”

  He offered me his hand. With a hearty sigh, I slapped my palm over his, and with a tug, I was on my feet, my arms around his lean frame, my lips on his long throat. I adored this part of him. In truth, I adored all parts of him, from his thick ebony hair to the soft, pale soles of his feet.

  “We will bathe and eat and nap,” I conceded and got a pleased little sound. The water was tepid now, warm enough to cleanse well but cool enough to refresh. Teryn stood behind me in the tub as it was not large enough for two men to sit. Using a pitcher, he poured water over my head repeatedly, his wet chest tight to my back as he used a bar of medicinal-smelling soap to lather my head and body. He took care with my wounds first then my cock, balls, and tender hole, whispering soft compliments while kissing a shoulder, an arm, my buttock, and then my chest. When he was facing me, my body washed and rinsed, I repaid his kindness.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  “Your eyes are like molten gold.”

  “Your lips are like sweet honey cake.”

  “Your cock thick and proud.”

  I went on and on, flowery words I had never uttered before, flowing from me like the water from the pitcher I rinsed him off with. What need did a man who lay with nameless pub patrons or a courtesan have?

  After we were washed, we dressed in clean clothes. Teryn summoned a servant with a tug on a pull cord to order a light meal for two. The young woman scurried off, leaving us alone. Teryn sat on a small soft rug, legs folded, to pray after giving me a tender kiss. I slid out of the room to a small balcony to give him his time alone with his goddess to gaze down at the vibrant dock. Ships sailed in and out, but the stalls seemed less busy. Bells rang out from a dozen or so temples. Perhaps the Sandrayans were taking a break to worship at midday as Teryn now was. The sun was brutally hot as it hung overhead. Sweat started to bead up on my bare shoulders when a large bird flapped into view, its peachy head tipping to the side after it landed before me. The bird was striking. A peach face with yellow plumage over its body and wings tipped with vibrant blue.

  “Good day,” I said to the parrot. It tucked its wings as if to wait for me to say something more interesting.

  Teryn pushed through the curtain. “While we wait for our dinner, we should take time to discuss our plans, send a message to the king and—” He stalled just beside me. “Ah, a note from my secretary.”

  He spoke to the bird in Sandrayan. It hopped along the rail and offered him a foot. Attached to the scaly leg was a small metal vial that Teryn gently removed. So this was one of the peach-faced parrots that the people of the Black Sands used as messengers.

  “Let us go back inside. Come with us,” Teryn spoke to the bird and opened the curtain for the parrot, allowing it to fly inside with a few flaps. “My senior secretary is gifted in animal speak, which makes her the perfect person to send and receive messages. Come inside, my sweet. Our food should be here soon.”

  I followed him back into the cool, dark room. The parrot sat on the headboard, watching us with curious black eyes. I found a shirt and slid it over my head. Teryn sat on the edge of the bed, opened the small tin vial, and unfolded a small missive that unrolled down into his lap. A rap on the door brought his head up. The parrot squawked.

  “I shall see who it is,” I said, moving to the door to open it a crack. A young male in a purple robe stood on the other side holding a large wooden tray with several earthenware pots, various fruits, and a large loaf of pockmarked bread. “Come in and place the food by the door.”

  He did as asked, his lined eyes darting to Teryn, the parrot, and then to me before I tossed him a copper and jerked my head to the door. If he thought to sleep with Teryn or me for cash, the lad was greatly mistaken. I had no interest in him. Pleasing he may be with his large eyes and lithe body, but he paled in comparison to Teryn Nouradi. He bowed and darted away. I closed and locked the door. The parrot flew over to the food and tore a hunk from the bread.

  “No!” I barked as I ran to chase the bird from the food. It flew across the room to land atop the bathing screen.

  “Hmmm,” Teryn said, pulling me from scowling at the bird.

  “What news from home?” I asked before tossing a shirt over our midday meal.

  “Sadly, it is not good.” I turned to look at him. His amber eyes lifted from the thin sheaf of paper. “News of the kidnapping has leaked from the castle. Aelir has spoken to the people in order to try to calm the masses, but his speech has had little effect. The noble houses are calling for all Sandrayans to be imprisoned.”

  “That is asinine!” I snarled, striding over to stand near him. “There is no proof that this plot was birthed by a Sandrayan. There is proof that one of our own, a mainlander, was fully involved.”

  “Yes, well, it is easier to rile the people against an enemy that does not look like you.”

  The urge to break something was strong. “Yes, you are right,” I had to confess, dropping down to sit beside him as the parrot tore at the hunk of bread held in its right foot. Crumbs fell to the floor. “I realize the people know nothing of our mission to free the twins, but what good will throwing all of your people into the dungeons do?”

  “None, but once the bloodlust is bubbling, common sense boils away. We need to make good speed to reach the Blood Fens. Lindal, my secretary, states that Aelir and Le’ral are standing strong against the nobility, but the people on the streets are growing restless. Small crimes against people of green and brown skin are on the rise.” He lifted his gaze from his note. “We must ensure that we are successful in reaching and rescuing the children or the whispers of war will begin. I am positive that our vahasi and your king wish no such thing, but they can only hold out against the calls of the people for so long. Years of diplomacy are already unraveling.”

  “Then we will ride hard through the night,” I said firmly.

  Teryn nodded. His sigh was heartfelt. “Yes, that we will. Let me reply to this missive. On the plus side, the distraction ship has arrived at the port of Padana. So that ruse seems to be working, as there is great interest being shown in all the dark corners of the capital. Rumors have it. So yes, let us eat and rest. Once the sun sets, we shall meet up with our rides and head out.”

  I gave his shoulder a squeeze as the weight of our rescue mission grew that much heavier. Not only were two young lives now at risk, so too were possibly hundreds more if violence broke out on the streets of Celear.

  THE NIGHTS IN THE BLACK SANDS WERE MAGICAL.

  The steeds we had hired were not.

  “Are we sure there are no horses available to rent?” I asked for the fifth time, Teryn already seated on the back of his quadoth. Mine, a sour-looking beast, stood in the street, chewing on a cud as it gave me dark looks.

  “Horses are not as capable on the stretch of the sands that we must cross. You will find that riding a quadoth is quite enjoyable. Very similar to a horse.” Teryn gave his one-humped ride a soft pat that made its long lashes flutter. “Climb into the saddle. Time is of the essence.”

  Knowing he was right, I did as told, ignoring the eye roll from the woman who rented these sandy creatures. She chortled rudely.

  “Come up with authority. Throw your leg over the hump. Sit down. Mainlanders.” She waved a hand at the beast kneeling on the cobblestone road. Around us, people came and went, many casting amused looks and whispers at the milky mainlander trying to mount his ride. Once I had my foot in the stirrup, I threw my leg over and around and sat down. The quadoth got to its feet, heaving me forward and back. I clung to the saddle horn, adjusted myself, and then nodded at Teryn. He smiled sweetly, seated on his beast with his legs crossed and wrapped around the saddle post. He looked the expert while I looked…well, like a fool.

  “I am ready to ride,” I announced with bravado. The fat woman tittered as we rode off, my body unfamiliar with the odd motion of the quadoth under me. It was irregular. Not at all like the measured gait of a horse.

  “Do not try to fight the ride,” Teryn called over his shoulder as we picked our way along narrow streets with round dark windows in every home. “And do not try to control your beast as you would your horse. Quadoth are notoriously stubborn. Your mount will follow mine. Remain calm, and if your quadoth frightens, just simply speak to it in soft, peaceful words as you would to your horse. You will see how pleasant it is once we leave the city.”

  “Pleasant, yes, I am sure that is the word I will use.”

  It was not the word I used to describe riding a quadoth. The beast, whose name was Razgol, which Teryn had explained meant pretty flower, was, in fact, not a pretty flower at all. Razgol was a bitter root branch with horrid thorns. She kept trying to reach back to bite me. She tried to veer off the path that Teryn’s lovely ride, Petarh, which meant gilded star, was leading her through. Every small bush that we passed, she wished to sample. When I would tug on the reins attached to her halter, she would make an unholy sound and whip her head about on her long neck to try to sink her teeth into my thigh. She urinated frequently, squatting down without warning to send me lurching backward. Surely she was doing that to send me to the street so that I would crack my skull open. My words to her were neither soft nor peaceful.

  “She is picking up your nervousness,” Teryn called to me a dozen times.

  A small dog darted out in front of us as we reached the outskirts of the port town of Yaza Kee. The pretty flower that I was sitting on did her very best to stomp the scruffy mutt into a puddle of pomegranate pudding. Thankfully, the dog was small and fast, so it was able to avoid the wide, padded feet.

  “I am trading this monster in for a cow at the next settlement,” I huffed after a long battle to get my quadoth back in line with Teryn’s, which waited patiently for us. “I will ride the cow.”

  Teryn laughed heartily as I rode up beside him as Razgol tried her best to bite the placid Petarh on the haunch.

  “Imagine the songs the bards of Celear will sing when they discover that the bronze warrior rode a cow through the desert,” he said between chuckles.

  “Better a cow than this hellspawn,” I replied, taking a moment to gaze at the rising view of a small mountain range. Now that the city was behind us, the Rajaz Mountains rose into the inky black sky. A hundred thousand stars winked down at us. Once we rode out of the city under the cover of night, the air grew cooler. The cobblestone streets fed into dirt roadways. Spindly trees and bushes populated the landscape.

  “That is a beautiful sight,” I confessed as we eased into the steppe regions of the main isle.

  “Yes, the Rajaz are holy mountains,” Teryn said and nodded to a small convoy of riders on quadoth entering Yaza Kee. “The goddess Shamsira spoke to her people from the highest peaks, bidding them to follow her teachings of love, faith, and magick. While the range is small compared to the Witherhorns that our yeti and dwarven friends call home, they are just as magnificent.”