Chapter Seventeen
Evellor
Evellor Nuransel could not believe what he was feeling. It had to be this terrible situation clouding his mind. A Nethren soldier had taken Lena Drask from Middle Ground. He was upset about Lena. That's all. He certainly was not attracted to a Nethren.
It was absolutely ridiculous. Or it would have been if not for the deadly implications.
He had found the Nethren scout skulking about the camp during the raid and apprehended him.
There were six Nethren captured and one killed by Thaxvarien in a display of power that still haunted Evellor.
He knew both Sources had blessed Thaxvarien and that he could do amazing things, but Evellor hadn't known Thaxvarien could pull lightning from the sky.
No one could do that—not Aethari, Medean, or Nethren.
Nor did he like the way Thaxvarien had killed the man without hesitation.
Evellor turned his gaze away from his prisoner and out of the tent's opening. But the activity outside couldn't hold his attention. Again and again, the man drew Evellor’s attention. Even worse, the Nethren seemed just as fascinated with Evellor.
Seated upon a folding camp chair, Evellor held the man's gaze.
His eyes were blue but a much deeper shade than Evellor's.
It was as if their homes had influenced their eyes.
His were the color of a summer sky, while the Nethren's were of dark pools hidden underground.
Evellor tried to focus on the Nethren's mechanical parts—the gears showing through his torn tunic.
But that only made Evellor think about what the rest of the man's chest looked like.
Focus! Evellor chided himself. You are enemies! To reaffirm that, he snarled at the Nethren, “Is your heart made of metal too?”
The man glanced at his fellows, all of them chained together in a circle, facing outward on the ground. He sat directly in front of Evellor, his knees drawn up and his chained wrists braced on them.
“My heart is my business, bird-man.” The words were harsh, but the man's gaze was soft.
Evellor leaned forward. He was the only one in the tent with the captives. The Paradefense guards were outside. Not that it mattered. Fabric, no matter how thick, did little to dampen sound. The guards would hear them. Which reminded Evellor—he was supposed to be interrogating the prisoners.
With that in mind, Evellor snarled, “What were you looking for?”
“Nothing in particular.” The Nethren smirked. “Just whatever we could find.”
“And what did you find?”
“Just you, handsome.” The man's smirk turned wicked. “Or rather, you found me.”
The other Nethren looked at the man as if he'd gone insane.
Evellor stood up, his wings whooshing dramatically. The Nethren soldiers leaned back, their shocked expressions shifting to wariness. Evellor moved without conscious thought, going to the tent flap. He leaned out to speak with the guards. “I need the key.”
“Sir?” The Medean guard scowled.
He was Paradefense, so he didn't take orders from Evellor. But Thaxvarien had insisted that Evellor conduct the interrogations, and the general had allowed it.
Evellor lifted his chin. “The keys. I'm going to separate the prisoners to interrogate them individually. They're not giving anything up in front of each other.”
“Oh! Yes, sir.” The man handed over a ring with a single key on it. “The meeting tent is available if you'd like to use it.”
“Good. Thank you.” Evellor went back inside and crouched beside the attractive Nethren with the deep blue eyes.
He didn't look at the man as he undid the locks that connected the Nethren to his fellow soldiers—first the padlock on the right and then on the left.
“Get up.” Evellor leaned behind the man to connect the two open padlocks and reseal the circle before he stood.
The Nethren struggled to his feet, and Evellor didn't help him.
Dark hair hung to the man's shoulders, covering his face when he looked down.
Evellor didn't like that. The Nethren could be plotting something.
But how could he escape when he was chained at the ankles and wrists and held in the middle of a Paradefense camp?
Evellor grabbed the chain between the man's wrists and dragged him out of the tent.
“Don't tell them anything, Lovall!” one of the Nethren shouted after them.
“Shut up, you moron! You just gave him my name!” Lovall called back to them as he stumbled after Evellor.
Evellor nodded to the guards and headed for the meeting tent.
They both remained silent during the short walk, though Evellor nodded to soldiers they passed.
The meeting tent was indeed empty, with only a table in the center surrounded by chairs.
Thankfully, all the maps and plans were stowed away in a case at one end of the table.
Nothing for the Nethren to see. Not that it would matter.
Paradefense would probably execute him. Either that or he’d be sent to a Paradefense prison.
Evellor stopped walking at the thought. It had sent a spear of pain through him strong enough to make him gasp. But he hadn't. He had kept his breath inside, lodged in his throat.
“So, you wanted to get me alone, eh?” Lovall smirked, but Evellor could see the slight tremble in his hands. “It was because I called you handsome, wasn't it?”
All reason vanished as Evellor spun toward his captive. His mind shrieked that this was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself. Evellor yanked the shorter man into his arms and kissed him. He fucking kissed him!
Mind still screaming in denial, Evellor groaned when Lovall responded, arching against him and tangling his tongue with Evellor's.
His manacled hands spread as much as they could and gripped Evellor's stomach tightly.
Evellor's wings folded around Lovall, and his hands roamed.
When they landed on the Nethren's ass, he finally realized what he was doing.
Jerking away, Evellor finally let out his gasp. His eyes widened and locked on the Nethren in horror. The Nethren seemed just as shocked, but also intrigued.
Licking his lips, the man whispered, “What's your name?”
“Evellor.”
“I'm Mal.” He flicked his eyes up and down Evellor. “You still got that key?”
Evellor narrowed his eyes.
Mal chuckled. “I know I won't make it out of here. I also know I'm a dead man. So, why not enjoy myself a little?” He shrugged. “You look like you can fuck a man stupid.”
Evellor blinked. “Dear Source, what am I doing? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”
Mal grabbed Evellor's tunic with both hands and pulled him into another kiss. It was wild, desperate, and magnificent. Both men were panting by the time they eased apart.
“I can't do this. If they catch us, they'll . . .” Evellor trailed off.
“What will they do?” Mal grinned. “Smack you on the wrist?”
Evellor grinned. “Nothing, actually. I'm not with Paradefense.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Mal held out his wrists.
Evellor stared at him.
“Look, you only need to free my hands if you're that worried. Come on, don't I get to enjoy this too? You'll be my last fuck.”
“I must be insane,” Evellor muttered as he brought out the key and unlocked Mal's manacles. He set them on the table along with the key.
Mal was out of his shirt seconds later. Evellor froze.
The whole right side of Mal's chest, from his collarbone to his waist, was metal.
Even his nipple. And yet, only the gear at the top of his pectoral looked like part of a machine.
The rest looked like an ancient breastplate, molded to look like a chest.
“Do you want to touch me?” Mal's voice went low.
Evellor nodded and stepped forward, his hand reaching out. It was shaking. He ignored the trembling and laid his palm on Mal's right pectoral. “You're warm! And supple.”
Breath catching, Evellor stroked the metal flesh and found it similar to skin. The nipple even hardened under his attentions. His eyes widened as Mal groaned and rolled his head back. Mal's hands went to Evellor's hips, his thumbs rubbing through Evellor's tunic.
Then Mal opened his eyes. “Do you want to taste me here?” He covered Evellor's hand with his and pushed it down to reveal his shiny nipple. “Suck me.”
With a groan, Evellor fell to his knees, his mouth going to that warm, metal nipple.
His hands swept up and down Mal's stomach, his sides, and then down to his ass.
Kneading that thick flesh, he sucked Mal's nipple into his mouth.
Evellor's whole body shuddered as he tasted the mineral tang of metal melded with the spice of a man.
“Oh, fuck,” Mal moaned and canted his hips to rub his erection against Evellor's chest. “Do you like it, Aethari?”
Evellor pulled back and looked up at Mal. “Call me Ev. And yes, I like it.” He flicked his tongue against Mal as he held his gaze.
Mal bit his lower lip and nodded. “Please tell me you're a top.”
Grinning, Evellor unbuckled Mal's belt and then untied his pants.
He pulled down the Nethren's pants and underwear, revealing a slim, long, pale cock, hard and dripping.
Breath coming faster, he licked the bead of moisture from the blushing tip and groaned at the salty taste.
Then he was moving over Mal, working his length with tightened lips.
“Wait,” Mal panted. “Stop! I don't want to come yet. Let me suck you first, and then we can get to it.”
“Sweet Source, you're blunt.”
“I'm a Nethren. We don't make things bigger than they are. When we want sex, we go to a place where we know everyone is there for sex, and we fuck. Simple.” He paused, his expression shifting to something shivering and a little lost for a second. “Although . . .”
“What?” Evellor rubbed his thumbs over Mal's hips.
“I don't know. Things are different up here.” Mal chewed his lip and then said, “I'm different. I'm sure you noticed my friends' shock when I called you handsome. I shouldn't have done that.”
“So why did you?”
He shrugged. “Felt right.” Then he made a huff that was nearly a laugh. “Fuck me, I can't believe I just admitted to doing something based on a feeling.”
Evellor stood up, his hands going to the Nethren's shoulders. “I've been told that Nethren don't have feelings.”
“Sure we do.” Mal grimaced. “We feel anger, hatred, determination, jealousy. Many feelings.”
“All of them bad.”
Mal shrugged. “That’s your opinion. We think they're necessary. Those are the feelings that help us survive.”
Evellor cupped Mal's cheek. “And what do you feel now?”
Mal's indigo eyes widened. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then his expression hardened. “I feel lust. A lot of lust. Want to help me with that?”
A rumbling sound of aggression poured out of Evellor from somewhere unknown as he surged forward, one hand grabbing the back of Mal's head to yank him into another kiss.
Mal's hands slid up underneath Evellor's wrapped tunic to rub his belly and tease his nipples.
Blindly, Evellor reached for his own pants and shoved them down, no underwear to bother with.
“Oh, very nice indeed,” Mal murmured as he dropped to his knees, his cock bobbing. He licked his lips, grabbed Evellor by the base, and immediately started sucking on his cock like a wild thing.
Evellor couldn't remember the last time he'd been pleasured so savagely or so expertly.
Maybe the thrill of discovery added to it.
Anyone could walk in, but he had tied the tent flap shut, so t hey'd at least have a little warning.
Evellor grinned and slid his fingers through Mal's long hair.
He'd always preferred men with short hair like his, and it surprised him to find that his preferences had changed.
There was something sexy about the feel and weight of Mal's hair.
Mal's fingers slipped down to massage Evellor's sacs.
“Stop!” Evellor whispered.
Mal immediately leaned back on his haunches, his bunched pants forming a pillow beneath his pert ass, and grinned up at Evellor. “You ready to fuck your first Nethren, Aethari?”
“Get up.” He helped Mal to his feet, spun him around, and bent him over the meeting table.
Mal chuckled and reached back to spread his plump cheeks. “Come on, warrior, I'm dying to feel an Aethari cock.”
Evellor gripped the base of his wet shaft and rubbed the tip over Mal's dusky-rose, puckered hole.
The Nethren shivered and moaned just from that touch.
Then Evellor pushed. Gently. Barely breaching and then withdrawing.
In and out he slid until Mal opened to him like a flower, taking Evellor's cock into his hot, clenching channel.
“Oh, fuck, Ev!”
“Shh.” Evellor took Mal's hands from his ass and put them on the table. “Brace yourself.”
“Oh, great Tech, is this what love feels like?” Mal set his hands on the table and pressed down.
Evellor froze. Mal's words echoed in his mind. It was just sex talk. Mal was teasing him. Still, Evellor shivered as he realized he wanted to hear those words as a true declaration. From Mal. But he could never have this man. They were enemies, and Mal was a prisoner. All they'd have was this.
With a wounded sound, Evellor slammed into Mal. Over and over, he plumbed the Nethren's depths, finding more pleasure with a man his people labeled a monster than he'd ever found with another Aethari.
“Oh, fuck, Aethari. That's it, go deep.” Mal's head rolled. “Make me yours.”
Evellor bent over Mal and kissed his neck. “You are mine. From now until you take your last breath.”
Mal turned to kiss him. “Then fuck me like you own me.”
With a cry of wonder and pleasure, Evellor did just that.