The Great St Germain

My boy/girl love and romance side
Books

Free Stories

Works In Progress

Graphic Novels

Magazine

The Beleaguered Lives of Shayne and Mychael

Personal Stuff

The Family Christmas Ornaments

My Artwork

Nameless

A short gay erotic romance by

Mychael Black and Shayne Carmichael

Part One

Theron walked silently through the crowd gathered in the main square. Execution day always drew out the citizens in their best finery. By comparison, he was dressed completely in black, from the metal mask obscuring his features to the tip of his leather clad toes.

"Nameless."

The whispers of his name followed him as the people in front of him gave way, leaving an open path for him. Several of his own guard flanked him, and the men watched the crowd menacingly.

The ripple of his nick name swelled as it ran through the citizenry of Krialis City. Ignoring it, Theron strode to the center of the square and its gaily decorated platform. Only the young man on his knees in front of a large block of wood held Theronís interest. Badly bruised and beaten, at first glance he didnít seem to be something that would interest the undisputed ruler of Sycos. However, Theron knew things none of the rest did. A narrowed gaze drifted to the executor and he waited to see if the boy would crack.

Grabbing a fistful of auburn hair with a meaty hand, the executioner jerked the prisonerís head back at a visibly painful angle. The young man winced and squeezed his eyes shut, but outside of that, he didnít move. Before them, an aging man began reading off charges.

"Jakob Leary," the judge rumbled in a voice more fitting a bear than a man, "you have been found guilty of lewd acts with those of the male population of Malacera. Do you deny this?" Looking over a pair of small spectacles, the judge peered down at Jakob.

A sharp tug on Jakobís hair broke the silence.

"No."

The judgeís lips twitched in the start of a grin. "We need a list, young man, of those youíve been with. You have one last chance to give the names."

At that, Jakob remained silent as the grave.

With Jakobís refusal, the judge motioned to the executioner. "You are sentenced to death for your criminal acts, Jakob Leary. Your light will find no rest."

When he finished pronouncing the sentence, the judge stepped back to a chorus of cheers from the crowd. The executioner pushed Jakobís head down to the block, stretching the back of the young manís neck for a clear blow.

The dark glitter of Theronís eyes held Jakobís as the executioner lifted his sword.

Jakob remained silent and motionless, wrists bound at the small of his back. He closed his eyes slowly, resigning himself to his fate.

Had Jakob opened his mouth, Theron would have turned and left him to his fate. As he raised his head, looking up, the light began to fade. A ripple of fear suddenly race through the once excited crowd as rolling black clouds obscured the sky.

Walking up the stairs of the platform, Theron smiled slightly at the executioner.

The harried judge moved hurriedly to step in front of Theron. "You canít come up here."

"Do you really wish to stop me?" The mild question stopped the judge in his tracks.

With a lazy gesture of Theronís hand, the execution moved back. As Theron approached Jakob, he reached down taking hold of the rope binding his arms and pulled him up.

Already the crowd in front of the platform had started to disperse, too afraid to remain in the square with the bizarre darkening of the sky at midday.

Jakob blinked, eyes widening. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Jerking the young man up to stand, Theron bowed politely to the judge. "Give His Highness my greetings will you?"

Turning to move back down the stairs, Theron gave Jakob no choice as he escorted him down the stairs.

At the bottom, he looked over at one of his men. "Sen, get over here."

His other hand landed on Jakobís shoulder, turning the young man around to face him. "If you try to run, Iíll slit your throat. Thatís the only warning you will get."

After staring at Jakob to make sure the words sank in, he looked back at Sen. "Cut the rope off of him."

Jakob could only nod. When his wrists were free, he looked down at them, not daring to look anywhere else, and rubbed the raw skin, wincing at the burn marks the ropes had left. As far he knew, his situation had gone from very bad to the worst. Death would have given him an out when he had no other alternative. Now? Now he was prisoner to the lastÖmanÖthat he ever wanted to face.

"Sen, put him in my tent. I want him cleaned up and healed before I return to camp."

Theron whirled Jakob abruptly around and pushed him towards the other guards. Silently they began walking down the street, flanking Jacob. Turning away from them, the outlaw king headed in the opposite direction towards the merchantsí stores.

Nobody said a word to Jakob as they lead him further down the street and outside the gates of the city. Above their heads the darkness that had blotted out the sun had already begun to dissipate.

Near a grove of trees, right outside the city, several tents had been set up. Only when they were close to the camp did Jakob realize the tents werenít black. They were a deep crimson red. In the center of the encampment the flag of Sycos hung from a large wooden pole.

Stopping in front of one of the tents, Sen took Jakobís arm as he pulled back the flap and pushed the young man inside the tent.

Protests screamed in Jakobís brain, but he kept his mouth firmly shut, knowing death at this point would be a blessing heíd most likely not have. Sen stopped him in the middle of the tent and stripped the filthy rags from Jakobís body. A gray rag was thrust at him and a bucket of soapy, dirty water was set at his feet. Before he could blink, Sen caught Jakobís chin in an iron grip.

"I donít know why he spared you, but if ya know whatís good for ya, youíll not miss an inch of dirt."

Jakob swallowed and nodded. Sen released him with a jerk and turned on his heel. Just as Jakob bent to wet the rag, two more men came into the tent. One of them carried a small jar while the other carried fresh clothing. Dumping the clothes on a cushion, the second man took the rag from Jakobís hand and began scrubbing Jakobís body. Jakob bit his tongue to keep the sounds from escaping him. His body ached everywhere from his cramped dungeon cell and every touch shot pain deep into his bones.

With a snort of disgust, the other man yanked at the rag. "Uílrenís balls, Ker, youíll damage the boy even more. Iím suppose to heal him, not heal the bruises you put on him."

Grunting, Ker let go of the rag and stepped back. "Sorry, Dark."

Tossing the rag to the side, Dark just shook his head. "Get some jugs of clean water, Ker, and fill the tub. And make that lazy dueíat, Secor, helps you."

"Yes, Dark." Bobbing his head to show he understood, Ker turned and left the tent.

Turning to Jakob, Dark gave him a rueful smile. "Weíll get you cleaned up first, my boy. Then Iíll take care of the pain for you."

"Iím going to die here." They were the first words Jakob had spoken since his capture. His throat was so dry, it hurt. His voice sounded foreign even to his own ears.

Moving to a small table, Dark poured a goblet of water for Jakob then took it to him. Giving him a curious look, he said, "Tell me why you think youíre going to die."

The flap opened and Secor and Ker carried in large jugs of fresh, heated water and poured them into a long, metal tub before they headed back out for more water. Jakob drank the water, coughing with the first swallow. The other men came and went twice more before Jakob spoke.

"Why else would he keep me alive but to torture me into telling more?"

Pragmatic to the core, Dare eyed Jakob with a look of disbelief. "I have no idea what possesses Theron at times, but if you were going to be tortured, I wouldnít be aíhealin you. Now get into the tub and get cleaned up. Soon as youíre done, Iíll take care of that damage. Damn shame when they want to execute a man for enjoying himself."

Jakobís look of shock was almost comical even to himself. "ButÖI slept with men," he said tentatively as he sank down into the water. Despite the slight chill, it felt amazing to his aching body. After a few seconds, he picked up another rag and began washing, scrubbing his abused skin gently but thoroughly.

Leaning against the edge of the table, Dark laughed at Jakobís expression. "Some do and some donít, boy. Itís against the spirits not to get out your lusts whatever they be."

Keeping his eyes firmly focused on the water and his task, Jakob said, "That is not how most of Malacera sees it." He stood in the tub and continued washing. Taking Senís warning to heart, Jakob ignored the old man named Dark and set to washing his more intimate parts. "If I am not to be tortured, then what use could the Nameless One possibly have for me?"

"They fester and make you desperate, and desperate men are stupid men." Dark obviously had a matter of fact way of expressing himself, and a pragmatic approach to sex. Chuckling again, he eyed Jakob. "Fine strapping body like yours, and you canít imagine what use he might have for you. You best be hurrying so I can get you healed before the man himself comes in here."

Turning to the table, Dark opened a small chest and pulled out a small bottle before he closed it. After setting it beside the jar heíd brought in, he looked over at Jakob. "Youíll need to drink this. Itíll take care of the pain. Then use this ointment on the wounds. Any places you canít reach, Iíll take care of."

Jakob shot him a quick, terrified look. "HeÖ" Shaking his head quickly, he dropped the rag into the water and stepped out. He turned his back to Dark. "The worst are the welts from the whippings," he said quietly, hanging his head down. "The rest, Iím afraid, go deeper than skin."

"Youíll be damn lucky if he takes you to his bed, boy." Grabbing the bottle and the jar, he moved up behind Jakob. "Just drink this and Iíll get your back done."

After Jakob took the bottle, Dark opened the jar and dipped his fingers into the salve. Rubbing a generous amount onto Jakobís skin, the salve had the pleasant smell of silver moon flowers. A cool, soothing sensation followed in the wake of the gentle rub of Darkís hand.

Theronís shout could be heard outside the tent as he yelled for Sen, and the sound of metal jangling ran past the tent before it became quiet again.

Jakob drank the liquid, almost choking on the bitter thickness. His skin tingled everywhere the salve touched it and he could feel the skin healing, becoming whole again. "Thank you," he whispered.

The flap opened again but both Dark and Jacob had their backs to it, and Dark didnít bother turning around as he continuing smoothing the rich salve over the small of Jakobís back and rounded curve of his ass. His touch was gentle, but no nonsense, as he crouched to get the backs of Jakobís thighs.

"Told you Iíd take care of the pain, boy." Finally straightening, he closed the salve and stepped back.

Jakob shivered suddenly, feeling a gaze rake over him. Oh, godsÖ "Thank you," he said, forcing the words out when his voice wanted to stop working altogether.

"Go ahead and have food brought in for us, Dark." Theronís voice broke the sudden silence as Dark turned and bowed to him. A gesture of Theronís head to the opening of the tent had Dark hastily leaving.

Fighting to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest in pure fear, Jakob turned slowly. He came face to face then with a broad chest covered in black. As his gaze traveled up, he realized for the first time that he was only shoulder-high to the man known only as the Nameless One. When his gaze reached the manís masked face, a pair of penetrating blue eyes bore straight through him.

"Sit, Jakob." Theron motioned to the low table and the pillows before he removed his cloak then tossed it aside. Theron moved to the table, and Dark and Ker brought in two laden trays and placed the plates on the table. The scent of savory meat filled the tent.

Jakob sat down and his stomach instantly rumbled with the smells. At best count, he hadnít eaten in three days. The tepid water heíd been given in the dungeon was the most heíd had. Yet even as the food was set out before them, he didnít dare touch it without waiting for some sort of signal.

Dark and Ker quickly withdrew once theyíd finished. Sitting on the pillow near Jakob, Theron reached for a leg of wild toret, and pulled it off. "Go ahead and eat."

Reaching for a piece of dark wheat bread, Jakob kept his eyes downcast as he ate. The bread was crusty but not wholly dry. When he finished, he started on a small chunk of white cheese. He dared a quick glance up at Theron, wondering what fate awaited him at the manís hand.

Theronís gaze pinned Jakobís, making it impossible for the young man to look away. Nothing could really be seen behind the mask that covered most of his face. But those eyes seemed as if they could pierce through any barrier of the mind to the secrets beneath.

"You know how to keep your mouth shut donít you, Jakob?" Theron questioned him in a silkily soft voice.

Finding himself under the intense scrutiny of those eyes, Jakob bit at his lip and nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"A rare quality, and one I doubt Cysh really deserves." An edge of contempt threaded through his voice. "Not that he had the balls to save your ass. But Iím sure youíre still of great use to him."

Finishing the small leg, Theron picked up a piece of yerl fruit and began peeling it.

Jakobís mouth dropped open. "How did you knowÖ?"

Theron didnít bother to answer his question. "Now tell me, Jakob, would you want returned to such a spineless master? Your answer has no effect on your fate, but I am curious."

As Theron tossed the rind to the table, its tangy scent filled the air.

"No," Jakob said quietly. Despite his own enjoyment of men, being a slave to the likes of Cysh, King of Malacera was anything but joyful.

"Then why didnít you betray him? At least it would have given you some form of revenge." He tore off small pieces of the yerl and popped them into his mouth as he watched Jakob.

"Because it would have been seen as weakness. I hold no love or compassion for King Cysh, but I swore loyalty and that is something I will not break."

A smirk graced Theronís lips. "Considering the man is a poor lover, he inspires little love or anything else."

Slowly his gaze raked over Jakobís nude form. "Cysh ordered you to sleep with Lord Pranorís servant, and he wanted to watch as well. Yet he refused to come out of his little hidey hole when Lady Pranor discovered you both together."

Theron proved to have a great deal of knowledge of exactly what had happened.

Swallowing hard, Jakob averted his gaze as heat crept through his face and neck. "IÖYesÖ"

"And you remained silent. Misplaced loyalty at best, but an admirable quality nonetheless. Iím sure Cysh will be seeking a meeting as soon as I return to Sycos. Unfortunately, he will have to meet my price for you."

Jakobís eyes widened. "But he wonít pay itÖwill he?"

A cold smile curled his lips. "You underestimate your value, Jakob. At minimum, he's not going to want you running around with your little secret. Men like him don't understand the depth of your kind of loyalty. They view others by what they would do. And I have no doubt he believes you'll eventually tell all."

"I canít go back." The words were out before Jakob realized heíd said them. Biting his lip suddenly, he hid behind another piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully.

"The choice is not yours." With a shrug, Theron poured himself a goblet of wine. "And I doubt he likes losing such a prime piece as you. Especially to me."

Jakobís heart sank and he chided himself silently for even daring to think he could stay away. Once Cysh got his hands on him, Jakob knew the king would torture him until he was dead. Losing a slave was a small price to pay to keep dark secrets from upsetting oneís rule. As he nibbled absently on the bread, Jakob found himself thinking on ways to end his own life painlessly.

As he sipped the wine, Theron watched Jakob over the rim. "That will not happen. There will be no attempts to take your own life. While we travel to Sycos, you will amuse me, Jakob. And when we arrive, we shall see if Cysh is in a generous mood."

Part Two

The bread dropped out of Jakobís hand and onto his lap. For several minutes, he simply stared in shock. "YouÖcan read my thoughts."

Theronís only answer was a faint smile as he took a handful of berries from one of the plates. Once heíd finished them, he stood. Moving to the flap, he shouted to Ser. "Another tub of water and be quick about it!" Letting the flap drop, he turned back to Jakob. "Finish eating and then you will attend to me."

Jakob made a soft noise and watched as two men came in and got the tub. They carried it out and returned a few minutes later, setting the empty tub in the middle of the tent. Then they took three trips filling up the tub with water. After leaving fresh rags and soap, they left again. His mouth suddenly dry, Jakob stood and waited, knowing damn well what was expected of him.

Theron stood silently to the side, and praying inwardly to whatever gods would listen, Jakob approached him cautiously. He couldnít stop the shaking of his hands as he pulled the tie on the front of his captorís shirt. When the black material parted, Jakob sucked in a quiet breath. A hard-muscled chest, smooth and pale, was slowly revealed as Jakob slid the shirt from his captorís shoulders. Dark nipples caught his gaze momentarily and he fought to ignore the way his mouth watered, wanting to take one of the small bits of flesh into his mouth. Gods, was he insane?

Holding out his arms, Theron let him remove the shirt, seeming to be paying no attention to his servant. When his shirt was off, he leaned over towards one of the tables and flipped open a small box. After withdrawing a long, thinly wrapped liler, he lit it and began smoking. The scent of the burning herbs wafted around Theron in wispy curls of smoke as he waited for Jakob to finish.

If just his hands shook before, Jakob was certain the rest of his body would simply expire from the tremors that slid through him when he knelt. He had no idea where to look as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the thin black pants. Pulling them down, he forced his gaze to the ground, determined not to look at the long, thick cock hanging limp before him. Sweet gods. A part of him prayed that Dark had been wrong and that this man would not use him, but deeper still, there was a part of Jakob that almost longed for it.

"It would help if you removed my boots first. Otherwise I donít believe the pants will come off." Theronís voice sounded faintly amused as he looked down at Jakob. Lifting a booted foot, Theron presented it to him.

If his hands hadnít been busy removing the manís boots, Jakob wouldíve slapped himself silly. He tugged first one boot off and then the other. Once done, he helped his captor step out of the pants. Looking up the long, muscular body, Jakobís mouth went dry. His tongue slipped out just enough to wet his lips and then he looked back down to his lap.

"What would you have me call you, Sir?" he asked quietly.

"Sir will be fine." When heíd finished smoking, Theron turned away from Jakob to put out the liler. Lifting his hands, he removed the metal mask from his face and laid it down. As he turned back around, he headed for the filled tub. Stepping into the water, he slid down with a quiet sigh.

Jakobís heart nearly stopped right then and there. The irony hit him full-force. The most feared man in all of AuroraÖwas also one of the most beautiful. Gathering his scattered thoughts, he crawled over to the tub. He picked up one of the rags and dipped it into the water before lathering it with soap. The jagged scar ran a line down the side of Theronís face from beneath the corner of his right eye, downward to his throat. The startling contrast to the perfection of the rest of his face had Jakob staring at the faded, puckered skin.

Closing his eyes, Theron tipped his head back to the edge of the tub, relaxing as he soaked for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, yet conveyed an unquestionable conviction to Jacob. "You will never speak of anything you hear or see in this tent to anyone."

"Yes, Sir," Jakob said as he began washing. Well-versed in all forms of pleasure, even his touch in something this menial was sensual; it was simply a part of him to be so. His hand moved the rag over the manís chest and shoulders in a soft caress.

Opening his eyes, Theron stared up at Jakob. "You do not hide your thoughts very well. You are as easy to read as a book." Sitting up slightly, he let Jakob wash him. Lifting his hand from the water, his finger drew a wet line along Jakobís cheek.

The movement of Jakobís hand stuttered for a moment, his eyes closing. "I cannotÖ" He shook his head, unable to finish the thought. "Would it even matter if I tried?" he asked, opening his eyes to meet Theronís gaze.

"It would do you no good with me. Very few can hide from me, and many choose not to at all. But some can be stubborn enough to try. You are not even trying." The finger left a trail of wetness as it traveled beneath Jakobís chin.

Words seemed to escape Jakob and all he could do was endure the touch, unable to escape the piercing gaze that held him captive. "I see no reason to hide."

"Wise beyond your years." Dropping his hand, Theron gripped the edge of the tub and stood up. Rivulets of water slid down his body as he waited for Jakob to finish bathing him.

Jakobís gaze followed each drop. His hands felt heavy as he began soaping the manís legs, working his way slowly up, fingers running over firm muscles in errant caresses. He could only imagine what the manís skin tasted like. There was no hair, which only confirmed Jakobís suspicion that his captor was either a vampire or dark fae.

A slow stirring ran through Theron; he wasnít entirely oblivious to the hands on him as his cock began to harden with Jakobís touch. His gaze drifted downward over Jakob yet he said nothing. The downward tip of his head veiled the scar that ran the length of his face down to his throat.

Unable to put it off any longer, Jakob worked his way up, hands sliding over the smooth, slick skin of the manís upper thighs. The hardening flesh inches in front of him had his breath coming just a bit quicker and Jakob licked his lips, tearing his gaze from the glistening tip to continue upward. His fingers glided over the manís body, the pretense of washing giving way slowly to something akin to worship.

A low sound began in Theronís throat as his eyes remained intently on Jakob. A darker flare lit his eyes like lightning in a stormy sky. He remained completely motionless, letting Jakob wash him, but there was no stilling the sound or reaction.

Lost in his own little world, Jakob no longer cared where he was or why he was there. All he wanted was before him. Wrapping his fingers lightly around the shaft, he began stroking his captorís cock, the soapy water providing the perfect lubrication as Jakob continued washing. His fingers slid up and down the length, thumb sliding over the tip. With every down stroke, he slid his fingers under the manís balls, cleaning and stroking before releasing them.

The nudge of Theronís hips pushed in against his hand with each stroke, and the low pulse of sound began to rise steadily. Shifting his position slightly, Theron spread his legs to give Jacok complete access to him. He didnít touch him; the dark prince simply stared downward at him, gaze following Jakobís movement.

"PleaseÖ" The word was whispered, Jakobís eyes riveted to the hard flesh sliding in and out of his fist.

Without saying a word, Theron pulled Jakobís hand away and slid back down into the water to rinse off. Once cleaned of the soap, he stood and stepped out of the tub, waiting for Jakob to dry him off.

Jakob forced everything down then and plastered a look of indifference on his face. Using one of the nearby towels, he dried his captor off, fighting the voices in his head that wanted to cry out. It had hurt, but he was used to things like that. A little rejection wasnít going to kill him.

Arching a brow, he eyed Jakob for a long silent moment with a curious look. Once Jakob finished drying him, he padded slightly to the plush pillows and blankets that comprised his bed. As he lay back, stretching almost like a lazy cat amongst the pillows, he spoke quietly, "Do you really believe I donít want that beautiful mouth on me?"

"IÖ" Jakob swallowed while he fidgeted with the towel still in his hands. "I didnít thinkÖ" He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I didnít know, Sir," he whispered. He opened his eyes and looked over, taking in the magnificent sight stretched out before like a feast before a starving man.

"You arenít suppose to think, Jakob." Theronís hand wrapped around his cock, thumb rubbing over the slit as he watched his newest servant intently. "You are suppose to be pleasuring me."

Licking his lips, Jakob crawled on hands and knees over to him. He looked into those bluer-than-blue eyes, then down at the hand stroking over the prize he so desperately wanted. "Yes, Sir," he murmured, lowering his head to his captorís chest. He took one of the tight, hard nipples into his mouth and began sucking gently, his fingers curling against the pillows as want turned to need.

The odd little pulse of sound rose again in Theronís throat with the heat of Jakobís mouth. Releasing his cock, his hand slid up to the back of Jakobís head. The ripple of muscles tensed as his upper body arched slightly off the pillows. "Such a sweet mouth, Jakob."

Jakob rolled the small bit of flesh between his teeth and tugged before moving down his captorís body, licking every inch of flesh as he went. The man tasted like soap and water and male, and a low growl rumbled from deep within Jakobís chest as he neared his prize.

Closing his eyes, Theronís hand dropped back to the pillow beneath as his body shifted, following the path of Jakobís kisses. A soft hiss of breath escaped him before he whispered quietly, "Look up at me." The true red of Theronís eyes bled through as he opened them, glowing as if lit with an inner fire.

Jakobís eyes never left his captorís as he moved to kneel between the manís legs. Breathing in deep, his form shimmered. Within seconds he had the manís entire length down his throat, swallowing and growling as the tiny drops leaking from the tip served only to tease the hunger rising quickly.

"You almost hid from me." Theron murmured his own thought before it scattered and his body reacted with a sudden jerk of his hips. His fingers curled tightly to the pillow beneath him as he drew his legs up, planting his feet against the cushions.

Nothing existed but the richly bitter taste of the flesh in his mouth. Jakob all but devoured it, sliding his lips up and down the shaft, tongue stroking, tasting. His fingers curled tightly to the manís hips, urging him to move, to take. Heíd not had this in so long. He was starving without it.

Theron needed no real encouragement. Jakobís hunger infected him as well. Theronís hands moved back to Jakobís head, tightly gripping his hair, forcing his mouth down harder and faster onto his cock. Each buck of his hips became more and more demanding until a harsh bellow broke from him.

Growling around the flesh in his mouth, Jakob took everything. With a quick pinprick from a pointed tooth, he started sucking, pulling the orgasm out of the body writhing against him, desperate for the elixir that would sate his hunger.

The chemical released from the bite burned like wild fire through Theronís body, causing him to convulse as the force of his release rolled him under and left him helpless. His seed spilled down Jakobís throat, tinged with his blood. Theron knew what Jakob could do to him and heíd allowed him to.

Jakob drank every drop greedily, coaxing more out with every sucking pull. When he finally had his fill, he released the manís cock and looked up, tongue sliding across his lips to collect any stray drops he might have missed.

When Jakob finally stopped, the pulses began to fade, leaving Theron shaken. Heíd never experienced what had just happened, but then pernahhan like Jakob were so rare as to be almost nonexistent.

The growls faded into purrs and Jakob nuzzled the manís stomach, lips sliding over the smooth skin. "Thank you," he whispered across the expanse of silken flesh and hard muscle.

Laughter rumbled from Theron as he tucked his arm under his head, watching Jakob. "You have suddenly become extremely valuable, my little pernahhan." His other hand smoothed slowly over Jakobís hair as Jakob nuzzled in against him.

Jakob raised his head and peered at him from under a mass of fallen auburn hair. "Even Cysh did not know." He tilted his head curiously. "How did you?"

"Cysh could not feed you as I can." Drawing Jakobís hair back to see his eyes, Theron held them with a steady gaze. "The way you were looking at me as if you were starving. You needed something from me. And there is only one creature that needs a Dark Fae so badly."

Jakob crawled up his body and placed a soft kiss to his lips. "Iíll do anything," he pleaded softly, "just please donít sell me to him. I canít bear anymore beatings. Release me in Veralaan Woods if you must, but I beg you: please donít let him take me."

"No, you will not be given to him. Cysh could have demanded half of Sycos and gotten it if heíd have known what you were. How is it you ended up in his hands? Who took you from Veralaan?"

Theron knew the history of Jakobís kind even though none were known to exist, and he knew the pernahhan had no natural defenses against any creature on Aurora. They were helpless to the winds of whatever fate claimed them unless they were protected.

"I donít know who they were. They came during winter, when I was sleeping. I never saw them. They put me in a wooden box with holes and the next thing I knew, Cysh bought me. They thought I was dark fae under illusion."

Theronís eyes narrowed in deep thought. "We will leave for Sycos in the morning. I have no doubt one of Cyshís sycophants will be waiting for me, and I will deal with that."

"I am indebted to you," Jakob murmured, kissing Theronís chest softly. "I will do anything in return."

"As I said, my little pernahhan, your value has changed. Iíll not take the chance that Cysh will get his hands on you and kill you. There are no more of your kind as far as I know. Unless there were others taken as you were."

Jakob shifted until he was hovering over Theron. "Thank you, Sir." With the words, his body shimmered again, but this time, the illusion faded completely. Jakob smiled softly as two golden gossamer wings stretched out behind him, almost the length of his entire body. Eyes that were once brown faded to gold, reflecting the smile.

"I was wondering if you would show yourself to me, Jakob." As he studied the form freed of illusion, Theron gently touched the edge of a wing. Jakob possessed the ethereal beauty of the legendary fae yet his presence was that of Theron's true home and the dark fae.

Jakobís wing fluttered and he relaxed down on top of Theron, resting his cheek on the manís chest. Reaching up, he curled a strand of black hair around his finger. "If I asked you what your name is, would you tell me?"

"I am Theron Bar-Nerl, unfortunately of the royal house, though lately itís not as much of a dishonor as it used to be." Drawn by the beauty of the shimmering wing, Theronís fingers stroked very lightly over it.

"Theron." Jakob smiled, still playing with the hair wound around his finger. "I like Theron. Sounds strong, handsome. It fits."

The Great Carmichael

My boy/boy love and romance side
Free Stories

Print Books

eBooks

Works In Progress

Graphic Novels

Magazine

The Great Co-Author

Myc's Website

Myc's Blog

The Great Wolfe

Art Work of Yanesh Wolfe

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's deranged imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All this stuff is mine, mine, mine. You touchy, I hurty. © 2017 and all that jazz.