Chapter Sixteen
ERIC DROPPED TO the floor of the cab to try and see Ix’s face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Ix grunted. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he gritted out, “It hurts. Get me home.”
Knocking on the roof of the carriage, Eric called up to the driver, “To the palace, as fast as you can!”
There was nothing Eric could do but watch, helplessly, as Ix hunched over.
He collapsed to the floor, so ungainly and hard that Eric felt a sympathetic wince in his own knees, clutching as his chest, then his face, his throat, his ribs with clawed hands.
And something… moved. It was hard to see properly but Eric could have sworn it looked like there was something undulating from under Ix’s skin.
“Get out of the way,” snapped Ix, just before his shoulder jerked, his arm whipping out uncontrollably.
It made a crack as his arm hit the underside of the seat, hard enough it surely would have broken Eric’s ribs if he’d been on the receiving end of that blow.
Eric tucked himself into the very corner of the carriage as Ix thrashed around inside the carriage, frantically peeking out the window as the driver pushed the horses faster.
Across the river, alongside the King’s parks, Eric recognized where they were now; past the Treasury and the Old Palace, they were almost there.
As they pulled through the corner towards the side gate of the New Palace and Eric leaned his head out of the window to shout, “Earl Marrawshire and His Highness Prince Ixthan, let us through immediately!”
The cab barely had to slow as they were waved through, the guards knowing better than to argue; Eric tried not to think about how much he had sounded just like his father there.
They spilled out into the side door, Eric digging in Ix’s purse for an extra gold piece for the cab driver as he dragged Ix out of the carriage and in through the door.
They didn’t even make it to Ix’s rooms before he collapsed onto the floor, writhing, but at least it was in his wing of the palace, behind closed doors.
“Argh!” Ix raised his head to yell and Eric felt it, as solid as if he’d been shoved in the chest. He staggered backwards and tripped on the edge of the rug, landing hard on his backside.
Ix’s eyes looked enormous, ballooning out of his head until they split open.
Eric screamed. A gleam of amber, bright and cat-slitted, as Ix’s eyes reformed themselves.
Eric heard a ripping sound, then Ix kicked his feet, scrabbling them against the ground like an animal digging, until fabric split up to his knees and leather went flying.
His paws! Ix roared triumphantly, the sound echoing through the corridor, as he stood, heaving, and ripped the rest of the breeches off.
He bared his teeth in a grin. The teeth came to a slight point, just as Eric remembered them.
“Hells!” said Eric, as he looked Ix up and down. Sweat dripped down Ix’s temple as if he’d just won a fight – which Eric supposed he had – and his back heaved with exertion, but it was him. The half demon prince in all his glory. He was back, the same as before, except – Eric pointed at Ix’s head.
Horns, curled, thick and pitch black where they protruded out from his forehead.
Ceronzar had horns but Ix had never. Ix raised his hands, with his unusually long fingers, black-tipped, and touched the horns as if he knew exactly where they were even if he couldn’t see them.
He clacked his fingernails across the ridges.
He didn’t seem displeased, at least. “Not bad.”
As he furrowed his brow in concentration, the horns grew before Eric’s very eyes until they were thick and enormous, curled up and over the side of his face. He patted them again. “Better.”
Eric gaped. “You can shapeshift!”
“Looks like I picked up some tricks in the demon realm after all.” Ix’s voice was rumblier than Eric remembered it being, and he shivered. It suited him.
The sound of footsteps pattered from around the corner, likely servants hurrying towards them to see the commotion.
Eric glanced from Ix to the shredded boots, scooped them from the ground as Ix grabbed the tattered breeches and they frantically dashed the remaining fifty paces to Ix’s room.
They made it just in time, Eric catching the glimpse of a servant down the corridor just as he shut the door behind them.
Eric was reasonably in shape, he rode and he fenced, but the sprint coupled with the hysteria of imagining the servants’ faces if they’d come upon them with Ix half-naked in the middle of the corridor left him breathlessly laughing.
Ix held out for a moment longer, until they exchanged a look, and then he too was laughing, slumping against the door beside Eric.
“Did you know you have a tail?!” asked Eric. He’d only noticed it when Ix had turned around, and from Ix’s astonishment, he hadn’t seen yet. He looked at it askew as the tail curled around, long with yellow-orange short fur and a tuft of longer brown fur on the end. A lion’s, to match his paws.
“The breeches did feel tight,” joked Ix.
Eric wanted to touch it. Hesitated. Reached out anyway, running his fingers across the fur. Soft, silky. Ix didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He leaned in next to him and Eric turned to admire his eyes, reaching up to brush the sweat-damp hair out of his face. “You’re really all back?”
Ix snorted, his breath a warm puff against Eric’s cheek. “You mean including my cock?”
“No!” Eric flushed. It wasn’t what he’d meant, not until Ix had reminded him, anyway. The whole part where he was tearing his breeches off made more sense now too. That had looked like it hurt; he winced in sympathy.
Ix hooked a finger into the waistband of his underwear and glanced down; Eric did too, out of reflex.
He wasn’t sure what noise escaped him but it was immediate and deeply embarrassing.
He looked away. Looked back. Looked away, only to accidentally lock eyes with a very amused Ix, who was watching his whole debacle.
Eric was suddenly very aware of how close Ix was, practically leaning over him, the heat of his body radiating off him.
He could see the gold ring around the outside of Ix’s eyes; he could see the bead of sweat that had formed on his temple glide down the side of his face and across the length of his neck.
“I had you all figured wrong,” said Ix, watching him the whole time Eric’s eyes darted around, frantically looking for some safe place to settle. There was none: Ix filled his whole view.
“What do you mean?” Eric’s voice came out far more strained than a short dash should have warranted.
Instead of replying, Ix gripped Eric’s chin, his long extended fingers digging into his skin.
It scratched some itch inside of him. Eric couldn’t name it, he just knew that the way that Ix could crush him so easily and yet held back his strength made his heart race.
The hint of danger and pain was always there and yet Eric trusted him not to go too far.
He tilted his head up, letting the sharpened points of Ix’s fingernails graze lightly against the sensitive skin of his neck. His breath came out shuddering.
“It affects you so,” murmured Ix, his keen eyes watching Eric.
Ix leaned in close, until Eric could smell the faded woody scent of his perfume still lingering against his skin.
Eric swayed towards him. He turned his hand until Eric’s neck nestled in the palm of his hand, slowly tightening his grasp.
Not so much that Eric couldn’t breathe, but enough that when Eric swallowed, he felt his throat strain against Ix’s hand, felt each heartbeat pulse against the side of his neck.
His breaths got shallower until he was panting and yet he held himself still.
Waiting, he realized suddenly. He was waiting.
For Ix to command him. Even though Eric had always served Ix as a prince, he had never been obedient, exactly.
But here, it was different. He trusted Ix to take care of him and he could finally let his mind empty, no thoughts of debts or paperwork or leases or trade agreements, nothing but the man – the demon – in front of him.
“You’re so good for me. You’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you?” Ix said.
“Yes, always,” murmured Eric.
“First, I’ll have you bare for me.” Ix made a gesture with his free hand and Eric gasped as he flew into the air.
His clothes came undone, the cravat unraveling, the laces of his boots loosening, as if he was being undressed by pairs of invisible hands.
Complex telekinesis, which had always been Ceron’s forte and not Ix’s.
“How–?” asked Eric as he dangled in mid-air.
“Part of me spent three months in the demon realms. It seems I picked up a few things,” said Ix, his eyes gleaming.
Oh, he was eager to show off what else he could do now.
Eric shivered in anticipation as his shirt came undone and his breeches slid off his legs.
He sailed backwards completely naked until his back hit the door with a thump.
“My latest decoration for the room, isn’t it lovely?” Ix observed him, chin tilted as if Eric were a new painting on his walls to be admired. Eric squirmed under the heat of his gaze; he’d forgotten how striking Ix’s eyes were and he’d not had the full force of them focused on him yet.
“No, a different arrangement, I think.” Ix made another gesture and suddenly Eric’s wrists snapped together over his head and his legs were drawn up and apart, as if those invisible hands had hiked his legs up under the thigh, revealing him to the room.
Heat flooded Eric’s body, humiliation and desperation both. He could feel his cock stiffening already, obvious for both of them to see.