Who Rules the King's Heart

Prologue & Chapter One

Who Rules the King's Heart

By Sarah Alexander (writing under the pen name, Shira Anthony)

Prologue: The Demon Lover

He ran his fingers through dark hair like the finest silk, pulling slightly to elicit a low moan from his lover. "I waited for you to come to my room," he whispered, biting hard on the other man's earlobe. "Why have you stayed away?"

"I visit you when I desire it," Samael replied, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal the taut muscles of his chest. The skin there was smooth, sensual. He smiled knowingly to see his lover's response. "I answer to no one, not even to the King."

"And if the King were to order you to his bed?"

"What difference would that make?" laughed Samael, and his eyes shone silver in the dim light of the fireplace. "I told you – I do what I wish, when I wish. Does this trouble you, Michah?"

"No," lied Michah Arieh, King of Shaeran. "There are plenty of others willing to share my bed, even if you are not." That much, at least, was true.

"Indeed," Samael whispered, untroubled by the King's statement. He traced his tongue in lazy circles around Michah's nipple, pulling on it with his teeth. "And yet none of them please you as I do, do they, your majesty?" Michah's answer was lost in a gasp, as Samael pulled Michah's silk robe open completely and took Michah's hardness deep into his mouth. Sucking and working his tongue around its base, Samael felt the other man grow even harder as his desire grew.

"You need this, don't you, Michah?" Samael pressed, releasing Michah and scraping his fingernails on the other man's chest. Michah gritted his teeth and glared at his companion through narrowed eyes. Samael only laughed again, claiming Michah's lips, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, tasting the muskiness there as if it were the finest delicacy. "You want me, don't you? More than the others?"

"Perhaps," Michah replied – another lie, of course, but what did it matter?

"I remind you of him," Samael said, working his way back down Michah's chest and stroking boldly between the other man's legs. "But you cannot possess him, can you? You fear what might happen if you were to let him know how you feel."

Michah growled, grabbing Samael's arms and digging his fingers into the hard muscle there.

"Let me show you what you want, Michah," Samael taunted, taking Michah's erection in his hand and guiding it between his own tight buttocks. "Let me show you that there is no one you desire more."

Michah cried out as he pressed into the tight warmth of the other man. "You will not own me, demon," he warned, thrusting violently against Samael's thighs. "You may try to possess me, but no one will own me." His jaw tightened as he inhaled the deep scent of desire – Samael seemed to be drenched in it, and it just served to heighten Michah's hunger.

"But you are wrong," Samael countered, as he moved in rhythm with Michah's lust. "You are already lost. You love him."

"No," Michah replied, the intensity of his movements escalating with his anger at Samael's words. "You're mistaken."

Samael licked his lips, then grabbed Michah by the back of his neck, pulling his face forward so that their eyes were only inches apart. "You want me," he mocked, as Michah's cries of release echoed around the chamber, "but it is he who owns your soul."

******

Chapter One: The High Mountains

Seven Years Before:

His arms were held above his head, tied to the ceiling by the rope that bound his hands together. His back was bare, as were his feet on the cold, stone floor. It was cold and damp in this place, a prison carved into the low-lying hills that led to the no-man's land between his homeland and the Koren Kingdom. Tiny trails of water ran down the sides of the prison cells, pooling in rough indentations on the floor at his feet.

He had been taken prisoner in the mountains, fighting alongside his men, defending what was left of the high ridge upon which the road to Shaeran ran to the south. It had been his Division's mission to prevent the enemy from advancing any further towards the border; he himself had led the small group of fighters, taken from the ranks of his men, against the enemy. Five of his men had died there; the others escaping with their lives only because he had held back the Koren fighters. In spite of this, his heart was pained for the loss of such good men – men with whom he had fought alongside for the better part of a year.

He had been held prisoner in these ancient caves for more than two weeks by his best reckoning, his only solace the friendship of the fellow soldier and subordinate with whom he shared the cold, stone cell. And during those long weeks, he had been fortunate – his captors had not realized whom they held. But now, in the dim light of the room in which they had repeatedly tortured him for information about Shaeran battle strategy, Michah guessed that his time had run out. He had already resolved he would die here, at their hands, rather than tell them anything that would put his men or others at risk; he had understood the risks when he had volunteered for the dangerous mission into the mountains and he had made his peace with his fate.

"He told you he was a common soldier with the Fourth Division?" the middle-aged Koren commander said with a sneer for the two low-ranking soldiers who had been tasked with Michah's interrogation. "And you believed him?" The older man, who had arrived minutes before, regarded Michah with a guarded expression, his eyes hardened and brimming with hatred. A flicker of memory passed through Michah's mind, and he struggled to place the newcomer. He had seen this man before. But where?

"But Commander Ruch," protested one of the men, "he was not wearing the uniform of a…"

"You will both pay for your stupidity," the commander interrupted, taking a whip from his belt and running the handle against his palm. The two men looked frightened, backing to the edge of the room. "Didn't you think it strange that he wore no jacket?" Michah's jaw tightened; he had, indeed, shed his coat when they were about to be captured, preferring to perish in obscurity than supply the enemy with a trophy to exploit.

"This is no ordinary prisoner," the commander continued, gloating. "This is Captain Michah Arieh, of the Fourth Division. Son of the King himself."

"The prince?!" exclaimed one of the soldiers. "But I thought the prince was a general."

"There is more than one prince of Shaeran," Ruch laughed, the sound of his voice causing Michah's throat to constrict. "Crown Prince Rayson is indeed a general. But there is another son." Michah repressed a shudder, as the commander took the handle of the whip and ran it from his chest to just underneath his chin, studying Michah's face intently. "This one..." – he paused and sneered once more – "is the King's bastard mutt."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Michah spat on the Koren commander, who merely laughed and struck Michah with the back of his hand. The force of the blow had the effect of clearing Michah's exhausted mind, and he remembered where he had seen the commander before. "The peace talks," he thought, recalling the time five years before, when his father had insisted he accompany the Shaeran delegation to negotiate the treaty between the warring kingdoms. "He sat with the King of Koren."

Michah had not wanted to attend the summit. He had long eschewed the trappings of royalty, preferring to remain in the austere barracks of the city guards with the other men who protected the city. For several years, his father had humored him. Michah's rapid rise through the ranks of the guards had been a result of his hard work, not because of his station, and few of his comrades knew of his royal blood. But after the death of the Queen, his father, knowing he would father no more children, insisted that his youngest son be properly schooled in the ways of a prince and potential successor to the throne. When war once again broke out between the enemy kingdoms, Michah had jumped at the chance to return to the guards and join the troops defending Shaeran.

"You have grown from a whelp into a handsome dog," the commander hissed, walking around Michah and running a hand over Michah's back. "But you are a dog, nonetheless." Michah said nothing, but held his head high.

"So… dog…" the commander said, with obvious glee, "shall we have a little chat about Shaeran's plans? If you will share your knowledge with me, I will see that you and your men are treated well."

"You lie, Commander," said Michah, his voice low. "If I tell you what I know, we'll only die sooner at your filthy hands."

This time, Ruch drew his whip and with a quick flick of his wrist, brought the leather down across Michah's back. Michah bit his cheek to keep from crying out and tasted blood on his tongue. "Then your reward will be an easier death," Ruch replied. "Or perhaps, I will spare the life of your companion."

"We are both prepared to die," Michah said defiantly. "You will get nothing from me."

The Koren commander raised the whip and cracked it once more over Michah's bare skin. Again and again, he whipped Michah, until silent tears of pain ran from the corners of Michah's eyes. Michah prayed for unconsciousness as the blood ran down his back.

"I had hoped this might be easier," the commander said, sounding irritated. "But I suppose it is to be expected of a high-ranking officer of Shaeran." He turned the whip around, running the handle once more over Michah's bare skin. Michah cringed involuntarily and Ruch laughed. "Do you like the feel of it?" he taunted. "I'd be happy to give you more."

"It matters little what you do to me," Michah growled. "I'll die before I give you what you want."

"Death?" mused Ruch. "How noble. But I have other plans for you." He took the handle of the whip and shoved it into Michah's mouth, motioning for the two soldiers to hold Michah so that he could not pull away. Michah gagged and choked on the leather-covered wood.

"You like that, too?" Ruch asked. He pulled the handle from Michah's mouth and, with his free hand, unbuttoned the waist of Michah's trousers, pulling them down so that Michah now stood naked in the middle of the cell.

Michah felt his heart pound wildly as he fought against the two men holding him, twisting his body and kicking at them until they secured his ankles with more rope. Ruch, having relished the struggle, now ran a hand over Michah's chest, working his way downwards until he held Michah's manhood in his fist. Michah felt physically ill and ashamed at his response. "Koren filth," he hissed.

"And yet you respond to my touch, Prince Michah," answered Ruch, with pleasure. "Like the dog you are, you crave satisfaction. Like your whore of a mother." Ruch squeezed hard, and Michah cried out in pain.

"Spread his legs!" commanded Ruch. He felt the hard wood of the whip's handle pressed between his buttocks and a stab of pain as Ruch forced it mercilessly inside of him.

"No, please," Michah thought, closing his eyes even as he continued to struggle against the ropes. "Not this. Please, not this…"

******

"Michah?" He felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "Thank goodness," came the familiar voice. "I thought that this time, they had killed you for sure."

Michah forced a weak smile and leaned against the rough stone wall. "I'm fine, Nathaneel," he said, blinking away the fog of unconsciousness. He closed his eyes again for a moment and took a deep breath. He felt dizzy, weak. The memory of his torture at the hands of Ruch returned, and he retched.

"Please," said his companion, looking at him with bright green eyes that sparkled with a touch of silver and brushing a strand of long, black hair from his face, "have something to drink." He handed Michah a battered metal cup half-filled with water, and he drank it slowly.

"Thank you." Michah handed the cup back to Nathaneel. As much as he wished that Nathaneel had not also been taken prisoner by the Koren, he found himself grateful that he was not alone. He and Nathaneel had come up through the guards together, and when Michah had been asked which men he would take into battle, Nathaneel had been his first choice.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked his companion.

"Nearly a day," came the reply, from between tense lips. "Michah… Captain… I fear that you will not survive another beating. I have done the best I can to clean your wounds, but…"

"I said I am fine," Michah snapped, between clenched teeth. Nathaneel frowned, looking concerned. He had never known Michah to be so tense or fragile.

"You are hardly fine," he responded, moving closer to Michah and reaching his hand out to touch Michah's shoulder. "Let me look at your…" Michah raised his hand and slapped Nathaneel's away. Nathaneel stared at his companion.

"I…" Michah stammered, taken aback by his own response to the touch, "I am sorry. Please," he said, looking away from Nathaneel, "you needn't worry. I am fine. Truly. I am just… tired."

"Of course," Nathaneel replied, "you must rest. But if there is something…"

"Thank you," Michah interrupted, regaining his composure. "I will let you know if I need any assistance."

Some time later, as Nathaneel watched Michah sleep, he heard the sound of footsteps outside the cell. "I must get him out of this place," he thought desperately. He moved to stand behind the door as it opened and he flung himself on one of the guards as they entered. The guard shouted a warning to his companions, and Nathaneel was thrown to the ground by a second man, who began to kick him repeatedly in the stomach. Michah, roused from his sleep, lunged at the guard to stop him, but was easily outmaneuvered by the two other guards, and one of them grabbed him by the arms and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand.

"The Commander wants them alive, Urick," one guard shouted to the man who was still kicking Nathaneel. "For now, at least." The guard grunted and pushed Nathaneel over so he lay on his back, barely conscious. "Leave him. We're taking this one with us." Michah felt something hard hit the back of his head, and knew no more.

******

Nathaneel awoke to the sound of moaning – a heart-wrenching and plaintive cry that nearly broke his heart. For a moment, he wondered if he were still asleep and dreaming, but the pain in his side convinced him otherwise. The cold cell came into focus, and he realized that it was Michah's voice he had heard. Getting to his knees, he moved nearer to Michah and bent over him. Michah was naked, his body curled into a ball, his arms clutching his knees against his chest and his hair covering his face. Nathaneel pulled his jacket off and draped it over the other man.

"Please," Michah whispered, "kill me."

"Kill you?" Nathaneel repeated, unsure if he had heard the other man clearly. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaneel saw the blood that had run down Michah's thighs and congealed there. He felt physically ill at the realization of what their captors had done to the young prince.

"I cannot take any more of this," Michah said, his voice hoarse. "Please," he repeated, "you must kill me, before it's too late."

"I could never…" Nathaneel replied, horrified at the suggestion. "We can escape from this place. If I can only…"

"No," moaned Michah. "They know who I am. It's only a matter of time before I… You must… I cannot live with the shame… I can't endure it…"

Nathaneel picked Michah's broken body up from the cold floor and held him in his arms. Michah turned his head against Nathaneel's chest, his body shaking. "How could they have done this to you, Michah?" Nathaneel thought, feeling the anger within him grow with each passing moment. It was nearly overwhelming, the feeling of hatred that had risen within his chest.

"Nathaneel," Michah whispered, "I will not die like a dog. You must end this…"

"Shhh," Nathaniel said, gritting his teeth. "I will not have you die here. You have done nothing dishonorable."

"You don't know," Michah said, his voice breaking.

"I do know," Nathaneel replied, gently stroking Michah's matted hair. "I know the man you are. I know you would do nothing to bring dishonor to your country or your men. There is nothing you can tell me that would convince me otherwise."

"I will see you safely out of this place, and I will kill whoever did this to you," Nathaneel thought, as Michah fell asleep in his arms. "I will tear them limb from limb and have them suffer as they have made you suffer."

******

Through a thick haze of exhaustion and rage, Nathaneel heard distant screams and saw the prison walls painted crimson with blood. He ran down the passageway that led outside – he could think of nothing but the burning rage within his heart and his grief for the broken man he held in his arms. "They will pay for their cruelty; all of them."

He heard the shouts of the guards and their heavy footsteps on the hard stone floor, but their voices were quickly silenced amidst the chaos. A shrill cry rent the air, sending chills down his spine, and he ran faster still. "I will see you safe, Michah," he thought. "I will protect you with my life!"

******

Michah awoke on a thick bed of grass and leaves, covered in a soft blanket that looked as though it had been fashioned out of silk thread. He moaned and rolled onto his side, his eyes focusing at last on the entrance to a cave and the high mountains beyond. The pain in his back and between his legs had lessened. Pushing the memory to the back of his mind, he sat up, in spite of the pain.

"Nathaneel," he said. "Nathaneel!"

"You need not be concerned. He is well," came a gentle voice from behind him.

Michah turned quickly around and into a pair of silver eyes. A man. No, something else. "Who… what are you?" he whispered.

He said something that sounded vaguely like, "Shey-ha-dim." Then, when Michah did not respond, he added, "Your people call us 'Shedim'. The demon creatures. I am Seeraz."

"Mountain people?" Michah said. The Shedim nodded. He was slightly taller than a human, his body leaner – catlike, with well-defined muscles, silver eyes, and jet-black hair that trailed down his back in waves. Despite the cool mountain air, he was completely naked. Michah could not help but stare – he had never seen such an enticing creature.

"But how did I get here?"

"The other brought you," Seeraz replied. "He begged us for help. There were some of our people who wanted to kill you both, but enough agreed to help you. You will not be harmed."

"He brought me? You mean Nathaneel?"

"Yes," the Shedim replied, studying him carefully, as though he were looking for the answer to some yet unspoken question.

"Where is he?" Michah demanded, concerned for Nathaneel's welfare. "I want to see him."

Seeraz smiled – a feline smile that emphasized his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. "You are his" – he said something that sounded like "Sree-leyt," then added, in Michah's own language, "chosen one?"

"Chosen one?" repeated Michah. Then, realizing what he meant, he said a bit defensively, "No, of course not. I am his commanding officer."

"I see," Seeraz replied, although there was nothing judgmental in his expression.

"Take me to him," Michah pressed, growing irritated.

"You are not yet well enough to move," the Shedim replied. "We did our best to treat your wounds, but they were severe. I will bring him to you."

"I…" Michah began, then realizing he was behaving quite rudely, he said, "Thank you."

Seeraz nodded, then added, "Your wounds – they were not Sree-leyt."

He felt his face grow hot under the creature's gaze, realizing that "Sree-leyt" meant not only "chosen one," but "love" and "lover." Swallowing hard, he said simply, "No."

"You humans are quite cruel," Seeraz remarked. "To use Sree-leyt in such a manner is unthinkable."

For a moment, Michah said nothing, instead struggling to tame the intense emotions that roiled inside of him: anger; pain; the sting of vulnerability; shame. He inhaled slowly, attempting to master these feelings, knowing that he must, or he would crumble under the weight of it all. During all of this, Seeraz remained silent, as though he sensed Michah's suffering, but knew he could do nothing to alleviate it. "Nathaneel must not know of it," Michah replied at last, his lips tight, his voice almost a whisper.

"But he already does know, Mee-kayh," the Shedim answered. The words were spoken with kindness. "He was so enraged, he attacked one of our own when they met on the trail."

"He… he attacked one of your people?" Michah was shocked. Nathaneel was a good soldier, but such blind anger was uncharacteristic for him. And then it struck him – the anguish Nathaneel must have experienced, facing certain death, watching his friend and commanding officer violated, humiliated. "I thought of myself alone," Michah thought with self reproach.

Seeraz laughed, the sound musical, otherworldly. "He did no harm," he explained, studying Michah's face as he had when they had first spoken. "And you needn't worry about him. He is strong of spirit. It is said that he killed most of the humans who held you captive. Very few survived."

"He killed them? But there were so many. How…?" Michah's voice trailed off as he tried to imagine how Nathaneel had overcome so many of the enemy. They had tried many times to escape, and each time, both he and Nathaneel had been soundly defeated.

"You may ask him," was Seeraz's reply. "For now, you must rest. I will return with your Nat-an-nyl."

Michah nodded, lying back down on the bed. He knew Seeraz was right; his body had not yet completely healed. They were safe here, for now, at least. They would rejoin the battle when they were stronger. And perhaps, in time, he would come to understand what had transpired in the caves.

"And perhaps," he thought, allowing sleep to claim him once more, "if the Shedim are as strong as he says, they can help us in our fight against the Koren." He resolved to learn more about the mountain people.

******

"Michah?" Michah opened his eyes to find Nathaneel kneeling over him. Nathaneel's face was pale and he looked exhausted, but he smiled to see Michah awaken. "Thank goodness you're all right." Michah sat up with some difficulty; Nathaneel steadied him. The feel of Nathaneel's hand on his arm was warm, comforting.

"Seeraz told me it was you who overpowered the guards," Michah said, eager to learn more despite his weakened condition. "But how did you manage it?"

Nathaneel frowned, appearing a bit uncomfortable with the topic. "I honestly don't remember," he admitted. "All I recall is that I was in the cell with you one moment, and the next moment, we were here. The Shedim say I killed most of the Koren guards," he added, looking a bit uncomfortable, "but that's impossible. I had no weapon when they found me."

"Don't trouble yourself with it," Michah replied, noting the distress in Nathaneel's gaze. "It's unimportant." It was a lie; the first of many that Michah would tell to Nathaneel. In truth, the other man's response made Michah all the more interested in learning how Nathaneel had gained their freedom. "Any news of the war?" he added, making a concerted effort to change the subject.

"I've heard very little," Nathaneel answered. "This enclave is surrounded by powerful spells – humans may not enter without permission. It's how the Shedim have remained hidden from us for so long."

Even in his weakened state, Michah understood the implications of Nathaneel's words. "No wonder folklore speaks of the Shedim as demons. To possess power sufficient to hide an entire civilization from humans… what more are they capable of?" This thought was followed in quick succession by another: how had Nathaneel managed to attract the attention of the Shedim? And, finally: will they let us go, with the knowledge we have gained of their existence?

"You needn't worry," Nathaneel added, noting Michah's expression and correctly guessing at his concern. "If they had been unwilling to let us leave, they would have simply killed us. I'm told they nearly did."

"Then I have you to thank for arguing on our behalf," Michah said.

"But I did nothing," Nathaneel replied, smiling at Michah. "I didn't even hear of it until afterwards."

Michah tried to mask his surprise, but only managed a grimace. None of this made sense: their escape from the caves; the warm welcome they had received from the Shedim. "Are you in pain, Michah?" Nathaneel asked. "After what those bastards did…"

"We will not speak of it again," Michah interrupted, sounding far angrier than he had intended. He had not expected Nathaneel to speak of what had been done to him in the caves. Then, attempting to make light of his brusque reaction to Nathaneel's words of comfort, Michah added, "You worry far too much for my well-being, Lieutenant." Despite his light tone, the use of Nathaneel's title was a clear indication that e had foreclosed any further discussion of what had transpired in the prison caves.

"Of course, Captain," Nathaneel answered, silently chastising himself for overstepping the boundaries of rank and vowing not to do so again.

"We will leave in the morning," Michah said, once more steering the conversation to his advantage. Nathaneel opened his mouth to speak, but Michah stopped him, saying only, "That is an order, Lieutenant."

******

Nathaneel dreamed he was running through the forest, the wind in his face. And, as he ran, he became aware that he was not alone. Pausing momentarily to look around him, he saw his companions were all dark-haired and silver-eyed – Shedim, naked, reveling in the light of the moon through the tree branches. He tried to call to them, to ask them why they ran alongside him, but the voice that issued from his lips was not human – it rose on the wind like the cries of a wild animal on the hunt.

"Beautiful one," he heard one of them say, "release your soul to the nighttime. Come with us, to the place of bonding, where you may experience the joy of kinship."

And, without understanding the words, he understood what had been said and he rejoiced, running faster still, following them to a clearing in the woods, where the moonlight bathed the warm grass. It was then that he realized that he, too, was naked, but he felt no shame in it. Instead, his eyes met those of a young female, and he felt the primal call within his flesh. He reached for the female Shedim, as another male embraced him from behind, licking his back and causing him to moan. The female clasped his hand and captured his mouth, and he tasted the creature's sweet breath on his lips, their tongues now entwined.

He felt the male reach between his legs and eagerly explore the sensitive skin there. He felt himself grow hard with desire as he continued to kiss the female. Gently, he pushed her onto the grass, taking his hands and running them over her breasts, pausing to taste the puckered flesh of her nipples. She sighed and spread her legs, willing him to enter her. He did not resist, and the male who had stood behind him growled appreciatively, all the while caressing his back and his buttocks and watching him thrust into the female.

He felt a slight pressure between his nether cheeks as the male inserted a long finger there. The pleasure of this act made him shout and, as his shouts echoed in the clearing, he realized the three of them were surrounded by other Shedim, all engaged in similar passion.

"More," he whispered, his voice again sounding foreign to him. But the male Shedim understood, and pressed two, then three fingers within his body. The woman who moved beneath him smiled and laughed, her sweet voice mingling with the others. The male put his free hand to Nathaneel's cheek and Nathaneel turned to meet his eyes. "Yes," he heard himself say, in the same, strange tongue.

He felt the male withdraw his fingers and, after a moment's pause, felt him press his hard length where his fingers had once been. Nathaneel cried out once more, feeling the warmth of the female beneath him, and the hard need of the male. They moved as one, the cool breeze like delicate fingers caressing their bodies, the light from the moon bathing them all in a silver haze of sweat and lust.

"Oh, yes," cried Nathaneel. "Yes, yes!"

And as they three called out in unison, their bodies surrendered to pleasure, shaking and shuddering as, one after the other, their release was offered up unto the night.

"Child of man," Nathaneel heard a voice whisper in his ear, as he lay, spent, upon the ground, "always remember what is in your heart."