A Royal Rebellion (7 page)

“Edward, I need. Please,” he begged, arching his back, spreading his legs apart on the bed. He felt the pull and odd weight of his abdomen, and he groaned, eyes falling shut, his muscles thrumming with need as it radiated out from his core. He was very aware of his body, how it felt, how empty and yet how full he felt on the inside. His chute clenched and grew slicker, aching deeper, and further in he could feel the firm, almost solid-seeming weight in his womb.

Edward tossed the towel, staring at him. “Take off your clothes, Percy.”

He obeyed, scrambling to remove his clothing as fast as he could. He got caught up in his pants and socks, whimpering with frustration. Edward was watching, still as a statue, eyes burning, their dark flames making Percy nearly frantic with need.

***

Edward

Percy’s need was sudden, even for him. His lovely little mate was always willing, and so highly responsive that Edward took care not to do anything that would excite Percy in public. Yet lately, in the last week or so, Percy’s need for sex was explosive.

Percy took off his clothes so fast Edward was sure he tore some seams, and he was kneeling on the bed, his slim, sexy cock hard and throbbing. Pointing up at his bellybutton, Percy’s cock was flushed red, his delicious sac pulled in tight, and Edward gestured with his hand, silently asking for Percy to turn around. Percy mewled in need, but obeyed, turning on his knees until Edward could see his pert, firm ass. A look was all he needed to determine that Percy was highly aroused, his natural slick gleaming wet between those luscious cheeks and his rear clenching as his internal muscles prepared for penetration.

Edward went rock hard. So fast his head spun for a second. It didn’t matter they were on the run. It didn’t matter that Reynard was probably right outside the door, guarding their lives and able to hear everything about to happen in here. All that mattered was getting inside his delectable mate, and fucking him until he screamed Edward’s name.

Percy gave a soft, breathy cry, full of ache and need. Edward’s cock strained against the zipper of his trousers, and he reached down, unbuttoning them, releasing his shaft and peeling back his boxer briefs. Percy’s eyes went to the sight of his freed flesh, and if ice could burn, his glacial blue orbs set Edward on fire. His sexy little mate, skin flushed, breathing ragged, went to his hands, ass high in the air, and all but melted in the mattress. Ass up, shoulders down, Percy presented the most delightful picture, and any restraint Edward had evaporated.

“Saint’s blood, Percy,” Edward sighed, walking to the bed, hands going to Percy’s hips, pulling him to the edge. His hands spanned Percy’s lithe waist, leanly muscled and elegantly proportioned. His skin was pure and unblemished, unmarred by the harsh reality of natural and random conception and birth. The slope of his spine, the slight curve of his hips, the sleek muscles on his shoulders, all of Percy was designed with perfection in mind.

Edward worshipped that perfection. Eyes tracing over every inch of Percy he could see, his hands following in the path of his gaze, skin humming with desire, Edward beat back his baser instincts, remembering that while Percy was built for sex, and relished in the rougher side of things, his beautiful mate was bearing his child. No matter how badly he wanted to mount and rut away mindlessly, he would cherish and protect his mate and babe.

“Please, Edward,” Percy begged him, voice quiet, soft, his hips lifting to push into his hands. “I need you.”

“Settle,” Edward instructed him, holding Percy still. Edward lowered his trousers and underwear out of the way, and stepped closer. He guided his cock to Percy’s slicked crease, rubbing the flared head in the musky and sweet fluid, both of their breathing patterns hitching in reaction as he pressed to Percy’s willing hole. “Do you want me inside you, my mate?”

“Yee-s-s-ss,” Percy tried to say, fingers digging into the blankets, and Edward held him still when he attempted to push back and impale himself on Edward’s cock.

“Anything for you,” Edward promised, and pushed in. Percy gave a small, aborted cry, his breath failing as Edward sank to the hilt.

So tight, hot, wet, with powerful muscles immediately milking his organ. Edward moaned, adjusting Percy’s hips, finding the perfect angle, and withdrawing just enough to push back inside with some force behind his thrust. His mate gave him a tiny sound, full of want and overcome nerves. Fire ran along his body, from where his cock was buried in perfection and up his spine, setting fire to his thoughts.

Hard, short thrust in, head nudging at the place their child grew, and a slow, ever so slow withdrawal, delighting in the slick, smooth flesh of Percy’s channel. Edward’s eyes closed, and his world narrowed to the flesh welcoming his cock and the vibrating body under his hands. He rotated his hips, adding depth to his thrusts, and Percy sobbed each time he did it.

Edward became lost in the feel and sounds of Percy, so welcoming, so fucking sexy. He repeated his pattern, eyes closed, totally focused on his mate coming apart under his hands. He let go of worry and stress, anger and fear, and gave himself to Percy’s pleasure, finding satisfaction as Percy quivered and whimpered.

“So perfect,” Edward told the shaking bundle of desire crying his name as he continued his devastating pattern, each stroke in damn near catching him in an unshakeable grip of powerful muscles. Percy was close, his body tightening on Edward, every stroke bringing them both closer to climax and release.

“Edward!” Percy shrieked, his whole body bowing as an orgasm slammed into his small mate. Edward thrust home, opening his eyes to watch as Percy’s body sucked him impossibly deeper.

His body was humming. Every nerve swamped in heat and undulating waves of pleasure. Edward came as Percy’s body clamped down on his cock, and Edward poured everything he had into the heated depths, his seed all but sucked out of him. Balls tight and aching, Edward stopped breathing, whole body incapable of moving, his cock and balls pulsing in time together, his body’s focus locked into the sinful grip of Percy’s.

***

Edward

He must have blacked out. Lack of oxygen causing him to fall to the bed, Percy trapped under his greater weight, his little mate still milking his cock in lessening waves. Percy was asleep, and Edward eased from his seed-slicked chute, grabbing his mate around the waist and pulling Percy into his arms.

Percy slept on, totally relaxed. Edward ran his fingers over the back of his slim neck, the raw flesh from the consort collar worse along the sides where the slight slack in the coils rubbed as Percy moved. Edward sat up with care, and searched on the bed for the silk scarf, finding it down among their feet. Percy was so deeply asleep Edward was able to wrap the consort collar in the fine silk, covering the coils all the way around, running out of fabric near the jewel-encrusted lock.

Edward used the tassels at each end to secure the silk, and he dropped his hands away with one last brush to Percy’s skin, smooth as the silk that now protected him from further damage.

The consort necklace was ancient, and Edward had lost count of how many consorts in times past had worn the same collar. One collar, one key, both created at the same time, both equally priceless. And the collar had been designed as both protection for the one collared, and a mark of ownership. Only a Cassian Royal, most commonly the princes of the blood, had the right to collar a consort, and as such each lock had been created unique, by individual masters, and there was no way to remove it without either damaging the relic or damaging the one who wore it.

Not all consorts in the old days had been willing.

Many collars in ancient times had come booby-trapped, small vials of acid concealed inside the clasps, rigged to break if the lock was forced. Those were used on royal prisoners of war, or those who were especially recalcitrant in their new roles as slaves. No rescue of a captured foreign royal could be successful if the removal of the consort collar left the wearer dead. After one horrible, tragic attempt three hundred years ago, no one had ever tried again.

Edward had chosen a collar with a less nefarious history, commissioned by a Crown Prince five hundred years ago for his lover, a young princess captured on her travels along Cassia’s borders. The tale went that she was on her way to be wed to another, and the Crown Prince had seen her beauty and coveted her for his own, ambushing her caravan at a small border town with Elysian. He took her as consort, fathering the next generation of royals off her, and she eventually became Queen-Consort when he took the throne. Whether one believed the historical version of a spoiled prince stealing and forcing an innocent maiden into sexual slavery or the love tale from folklore was up to the mindset of the current master. Edward chose to believe in the tale of love and passion instead of villainy and rape. Its history came with more love than tragedy attached to its storied past.

The key, usually on a slim necklace of its own, had hung around Edward’s neck since the day he collared his young mate. It was lost somewhere between getting shot in the square and escaping the hospital the next day. Edward needed to find someone to remove the necklace, or they needed to get their hands on the tools to do it themselves. If they went to someone else to remove it they ran the risk of being recognized and reported; Edward had no idea what kind of tool could safely remove the coils from Percy’s neck without injury to his mate, since bolt cutters wouldn’t do—the metal was too dense, too resistant to cutting. Crafted from the rarest of metals, each collar was built to withstand all serious attempts at removal.

Perhaps the easiest means to remove it would be to pick the lock. Surely today’s techniques could outwit the ancient lockmasters of old.

Chapter Five

Percy

Percy paced, the twelve steps it took to walk from one side of the room to the other too short to occupy his mind. Edward was speaking to Reynard in the hall, their voices muffled by the door. Percy huffed, and glared at the door, pausing a moment. Nothing happened, and he began pacing again. He was frustrated, and tired, and all he wanted was for Edward to hold him, to pull him close and tell him everything was going to be fine.

The collar about his neck was wrapped in silk, and while it provided his skin relief from the constant rubbing of the coils, it made him hot. He was sweating, and his back hurt, and he was about to climb the walls if he didn’t some relief!

Percy stopped pacing, tired, and arched his back, trying to soothe the dull ache at the base of his spine. He stretched, and he gasped as a muscle in his abdomen pulled. His baby bump was bigger.

Noticeably bigger.

His clothing wasn’t fitting, his trousers had to be unbuttoned at the waist, and all of the expensive fabric irritated his skin. He was most comfortable in Edward’s sweatpants and shirtless, but he couldn’t wear that all the time. Finding an inn willing to clean their clothes was hard, since all their clothes were Prince Mason’s, and required specialty cleaning. Reynard has been buying them new clothes as they traveled, but they had a finite amount of money and Reynard had cautioned Edward that they had to be careful with what they had left.

“My prince…” the volume increased on the other side of the door, and Percy shot it an irritated glance. Reynard spent his time cautioning Edward to stay out of sight, but then he would constantly call Edward by his title. Even Percy knew that servants were everywhere and overheard everything, and this was a small inn.

Whatever was going on out there in the hallway wasn’t good. Reynard had returned not long after Percy fell asleep in Edward’s arms, and despite his ironclad control, Percy could see the captain was rattled. Edward wasted no time in grabbing his arm and taking Reynard back out into the shadowed hall, closing the door behind them. Time was dragging on for Percy and he was ready to just….

Percy stomped to the door. As he got closer, he could hear the strained tones of his lover and the captain, all but hissing at each other. He couldn’t hear any words clearly enough through the door, and he was so tired of everything. Percy grabbed the door and flung it open so hard a draft kicked up. Reynard and Edward both jumped, staring at him.

“Edward. Reynard,” Percy said, breathing hard. “You’re in the hallway. Talking. Where I can’t hear. I’m tired, and hot, and my back hurts, and
you can stop hiding things from me!
”

He wailed that last part, the incredulity on their faces enough to remind Percy that he never, not once in all his life, ever acted out. He’d been in a cage his whole life, and now he was out in the world and the most horrible thing was that he might have been safer in the cage because then he knew who was going to hurt him
and… and… and… and
……he was sobbing.

Percy backed away from the door, leaving it open wide, and he hugged himself, sobs wracking his body in horrible jerks. He clutched at his shoulders, but that was too hot, and then he dropped them, but then he was too cold, and he hit his baby bump by accident and then…..Percy stood alone in the middle of the bedroom and cried.

“Little one?” came a hesitant inquiry, Edward cautiously approaching him, hand outstretched.

Percy turned away, wiping at his tears. He was so tired of crying. What was wrong with him? Percy didn’t want to be crying anymore. He was helpless and he didn’t know anything, and Edward and Reynard had to explain the simplest things to him……