of these
feelings he did not understand.
The room was silent for long moments, only the faint sounds of Vanyae continuing to eat,
his thoughts turned inward. He almost startled when Anyar came to stand before him.
He looked up in the golden eyes, seeing the fear there, yet also a certain strength beyond
his years.
“You will not take my wings?” The words held the merest tremble.
“I will not, by my word.” Vanyae's tone held a fervent vow. He could not imagine the
atrocity of destroying so beautiful a thing as those wings.
“You will see that my surrender keeps my commander safe? You will not hurt him?” The
young voice shook further, then firmed with determination to see his leader protected.
“I will.” Vanyae's tone held truth.
Anyar stood silently then, searching the prince's eyes. He had so little choice and yet…this
man had at least saved his wings.
He shuddered. His anger at his own taking warred with his fear of the unknown. He stood
his ground as Vanyae rose from his seat. Their eyes met and held.
Anyar thought of Tanyan, of how he could keep him safe, and the reminder held him still
when the fingers returned. He trembled under the light touch, no matter how hard he tried to
think of bravery. He closed his eyes and remembered Tanyan's touch and how much he had
yearned for it. He gathered his courage and stilled his body. No matter what this enemy did to
him, he would hold that precious memory dear and close to his heart. This was only his body; it
could be used and tormented, but no one could touch his heart and soul unless he let them. They
were Tanyan's. He only had to endure.
“Open your eyes.”
Wings
43
He did so, calmer in himself, meeting the intent eyes with no expression.
The light touch trailed down his throat, whisper soft.
“Good boy, Anyar. My brave one. I will not give you hurt unless you rebel. That I will not
tolerate any more than your commander would. As you were under his command, now you are
under mine. You would have been disciplined there if you disobeyed, so will it be here. It is not
so very different. You only fear what you do not know.”
The touch slowly traveled down to his chest, pausing to let a thumb gently circle a nipple.
It woke, rose to a hard point, and Anyar flushed, trying desperately to control his body's
involuntary response.
Vanyae watched with avid eyes. “So responsive, so beautiful.”
Anyar wanted to sink into the floor. It took everything in him not to push the prince away.
Green eyes met his. “Is this your choice, Anyar? Do you give yourself to me?”
Anyar jerked at the words. Golden eyes glared with hatred, but there was no real choice—
he knew that; his captor knew that.
With contempt, he turned his back on Vanyae and strode to the bed, angrily untying his
pants, and flung himself facedown and spread his legs, suddenly just wanting to get this over
with. Give the bastard what he wanted; then maybe he would leave him alone for a while.
Gentle hands unclipped the delicate yet strong chain that had held his wings together above
his head, and he could not restrain a heartfelt sigh of relief as he could finally spread them,
easing the ache. He stretched them wide with a faint moan at the pain, then let them touch the
floor on either side of the bed.
The bed dipped as Vanyae knelt on it, looming over Anyar like a predator. Anyar
swallowed hard, his hands slowly clenching into the sheets, eyes staring blindly. I can do this. It
is only my body. The body does not matter… He repeated the silent words like a mantra but could
not control the small gasp that left his lips at the first touch upon the skin of his back, just above
his wings. The fingers were light, almost tickling, and then they went to his wings, stroking the
smaller feathers at the base, then following along as they grew larger. The touch returned to the
extremely sensitive area just below where his wings emerged from his back, and he
feelings he did not understand.
The room was silent for long moments, only the faint sounds of Vanyae continuing to eat,
his thoughts turned inward. He almost startled when Anyar came to stand before him.
He looked up in the golden eyes, seeing the fear there, yet also a certain strength beyond
his years.
“You will not take my wings?” The words held the merest tremble.
“I will not, by my word.” Vanyae's tone held a fervent vow. He could not imagine the
atrocity of destroying so beautiful a thing as those wings.
“You will see that my surrender keeps my commander safe? You will not hurt him?” The
young voice shook further, then firmed with determination to see his leader protected.
“I will.” Vanyae's tone held truth.
Anyar stood silently then, searching the prince's eyes. He had so little choice and yet…this
man had at least saved his wings.
He shuddered. His anger at his own taking warred with his fear of the unknown. He stood
his ground as Vanyae rose from his seat. Their eyes met and held.
Anyar thought of Tanyan, of how he could keep him safe, and the reminder held him still
when the fingers returned. He trembled under the light touch, no matter how hard he tried to
think of bravery. He closed his eyes and remembered Tanyan's touch and how much he had
yearned for it. He gathered his courage and stilled his body. No matter what this enemy did to
him, he would hold that precious memory dear and close to his heart. This was only his body; it
could be used and tormented, but no one could touch his heart and soul unless he let them. They
were Tanyan's. He only had to endure.
“Open your eyes.”
Wings
43
He did so, calmer in himself, meeting the intent eyes with no expression.
The light touch trailed down his throat, whisper soft.
“Good boy, Anyar. My brave one. I will not give you hurt unless you rebel. That I will not
tolerate any more than your commander would. As you were under his command, now you are
under mine. You would have been disciplined there if you disobeyed, so will it be here. It is not
so very different. You only fear what you do not know.”
The touch slowly traveled down to his chest, pausing to let a thumb gently circle a nipple.
It woke, rose to a hard point, and Anyar flushed, trying desperately to control his body's
involuntary response.
Vanyae watched with avid eyes. “So responsive, so beautiful.”
Anyar wanted to sink into the floor. It took everything in him not to push the prince away.
Green eyes met his. “Is this your choice, Anyar? Do you give yourself to me?”
Anyar jerked at the words. Golden eyes glared with hatred, but there was no real choice—
he knew that; his captor knew that.
With contempt, he turned his back on Vanyae and strode to the bed, angrily untying his
pants, and flung himself facedown and spread his legs, suddenly just wanting to get this over
with. Give the bastard what he wanted; then maybe he would leave him alone for a while.
Gentle hands unclipped the delicate yet strong chain that had held his wings together above
his head, and he could not restrain a heartfelt sigh of relief as he could finally spread them,
easing the ache. He stretched them wide with a faint moan at the pain, then let them touch the
floor on either side of the bed.
The bed dipped as Vanyae knelt on it, looming over Anyar like a predator. Anyar
swallowed hard, his hands slowly clenching into the sheets, eyes staring blindly. I can do this. It
is only my body. The body does not matter… He repeated the silent words like a mantra but could
not control the small gasp that left his lips at the first touch upon the skin of his back, just above
his wings. The fingers were light, almost tickling, and then they went to his wings, stroking the
smaller feathers at the base, then following along as they grew larger. The touch returned to the
extremely sensitive area just below where his wings emerged from his back, and he
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