Wings by J. C. Owens Read Free Book Online

tracked his captor by sound alone. When footsteps approached him, he froze once
    more, fingers clenching behind him.
    He jerked as a hand traced his cheek. “Now, Anyar, this will be up to you. I need to clean
    you up, and we can do this, just the two of us; or if you refuse my commands, I can call others in
    to force the issue. It is entirely up to you.”
    Anyar's jaw went taut with all he wanted to scream at this man. He did not answer.
    Vanyae sighed. “Lie down, little one.” Hands gripped him, pulled him down sideways onto
    a hard surface, and laid him flat on his back. He did not resist until he felt one ankle cuff clipped
    to a chain; then he went taut and tried to sit up.
    Vanyae held him down as he went to the other side of the structure and secured the other
    ankle. “It is all right, Anyar. Nothing is going to hurt you here unless you cause it. You will learn
    that is the way of everything in your new life.”
    The young guard growled; he could not help it. This would not be his “new life,” as the
    prince put it. This was merely a small span of misery until he could escape to his own people.
    That was all.
    Vanyae chuckled, which made Anyar's anger rise higher. “You have spirit under that
    silence; that is good. I do not want a docile bedmate. I prefer them with fire. That way, when you
    finally submit, the taste is sweet.”
    “I will never submit to you. I am not that weak.” Anyar's voice was low and heartfelt. His
    anger surged and he was unable to hold his tongue under such provocation.
    “You are so very innocent, little one. You will see. It will be a joy to teach you, like
    creating a gem from raw stone. You will be a wonder when I am finished.”

    32
    J. C. Owens

    The chain between Anyar's wrists was released, but before he could react, Vanyae leaned
    on him, quickly pulled his half-numb hand up and to the side, and secured it. He had more
    trouble with the other, and the young Melanian tried desperately to keep it free, though he knew
    it useless. Eventually, it also was caught and chained down. Panting, he lay there, tensing as he
    felt his ankles pulled farther apart as Vanyae tightened some mechanism. His fists clenched
    helplessly as he lay spread-eagled.
    “Stay still now, little one. I would not want to cut you, but we have to get these clothes off,
    and they are no longer of any use to you. You will wear Nazarian clothing when you need to.”
    Unspoken but clear enough was the hint that Anyar would seldom be clothed anyway.
    He closed his eyes, sure this had to be a nightmare and he would wake in the guards'
    barracks after a night of drinking to tell the others of the terrible dream that had plagued him. It
    had to be a dream; it had to.
    The coolness of a knife made him jump. Vanyae soothed him, working swiftly if carefully.
    The knife was very, very sharp, for it cut the fabric easily, first his shirt, then his breeches, and
    his only thought at that moment was how he would have to work longer hours to be able to
    afford new ones.
    He tried not to think of the coolness of air on his skin, of how Vanyae could now see all of
    him, that he lay utterly exposed and helpless before this man who wanted him.
    “Beautiful,” the prince breathed. “By the gods, you are beautiful.”
    Anyar's face flamed with color. No one had ever called him beautiful before, and he would
    have preferred the comment come from Tanyan's lips, not from this enemy who saw him as little
    more than an animal to be used.
    A hand touched his chest, and he jumped, tensing as it trailed over his skin.
    “Such golden skin, so soft…” Vanyae's voice was filled with the thrill of possessing what
    lay before him.
    Anyar shuddered with distaste as the touch moved over him, eagerly exploring his body.
    Vanyae did not touch his genitals or his face, for which Anyar was grateful, though it seemed
    strange.
    At last the touch left him, and he breathed easier, his ears straining to detect what the
    Nazarian would do