The Taurus Key

By Lady Tempest

*****

Prologue:

" What am I going to do with you, Prince Issai?" Tugging on his thick beard, King Shion paced in

a slow circle around the young prince. " I can't bear the thought of squandering my resources on the son

of my enemy. To have you eating my food, wearing my clothes, sleeping under my roof!"

The prince stood calmly, his exotic gray-green eyes staring straight ahead through delicate,

black-framed glasses, his slender hands clasped loosely behind his back. Silent.

The king stopped at the prince's side, his breath brushing past his long, dark mustache to tickle the

boy's smooth, bronze skin. " I could just throw you into the dungeon and leave you there...forgotten... "

he sneered.

Prince Issai lifted his chin defiantly, his gaze unwavering.

"... But that would be too easy," the king continued, running a thick finger along his prisoner's

softly angled jaw line. " And you would bear it with too much dignity, I think. "

He slid his pale jade eyes to glance the king's broad, dusky face. " There is no such thing as 'too

much dignity', Your Majesty, especially not for an honorable man in adverse circumstances."

" Predictable!" The king stepped in front of the prince, grabbing his throat. " But you have yet to

experience adverse circumstances, boy! "

Gasping for air, Issai clutched at the hand around his neck. The king's other hand roughly stroked

his cheek then crushed the prince's full, rosy lips under his thumb. " I'll have to see how much adversity

you can handle, Prince. I'm curious." Shion's dark eyes narrowed with malice. He shoved the prince back

several feet until the boy's knees smacked into the antique sofa behind him and he fell. The king leaned

over him, his hand still on Issai's slender throat, crushing him into the cushions. The prince struggled, his

blue-black hair slipping free of the clasp that had held his usually neat long tail down his back. Silky

midnight strands splayed in a frenzy as the young prince thrashed, trying to break free of the husky and

much stronger king.

" I'm no use to you dead." Issai gasped, still prying at the hand around his throat.

" Oh, I have no intentions of killing you, my dear prince," Shion sneered. He pressed his other

hand to the squirming boy's slim stomach, attempting to hold him still. " No, I want to break you, not kill

you."

Issai's eyes widened in true fear. " W...what are you meaning?!" he choked.

The king gave him a sly smile. " Afraid, boy?" He laughed while releasing his hold and standing. "

Perhaps fortunate for you, my tastes don't include boys. "

Shion took a few steps away from the couch, folding his arms across his broad chest. The prince

clutched his throat, his eyes wide and wary, panting and fighting to regain even a semblance of normal

breathing." Though I wouldn't degrade myself with such as you, if it did. "

Issai glared at his dark captor, his chest rising and falling in rapid heaves.

" No. I'll think of something more suitable," again the grin that by now was making the young

prince physically sick.

A soft tap at the door distracted Issai from the bile and disgust rising from his gut. He turned,

peering through the black fall of his loose hair to the large mahogany door, his slight body hunched over

and trembling.

" Enter, " King Shion said as he too turned to face the doorway.

The door opened and a tall figure, much taller than either the stocky king or slender Prince Issai,

stepped elegantly into the room. He clicked together the heels of high, black-leather boots and flowed his

slender body into a graceful bow.

" Your Majesty." His voice was smooth and low, a slight resonance added by the shining silver

helm that hid all of his face except for a blanched chin, and flushed pale and serious lips. Wavy black hair

curled from underneath the helm, teasing over slender but strong shoulders. He straightened, smoothing

his maroon and gold uniform jacket with a white gloved hand. The helm turned to face the raven-haired

prince on the sofa, the visored eye slits shadowing the man's eyes, leaving a shortened breath as the only

visible reaction.

" I apologize, your Majesty," he said quietly, yet not diverting his hidden gaze from the prince. " I

did not know you had company."

Shion noticed with interest the slight trembling of the gloved hand and the stilted breathing as the

young man stared at the royal hostage behind him. An amused smile quirked his lips. Ah, yes. Perfect.

" No need to worry about it, dear boy. " His grin widened. He had just found his answer. " We

have concluded our business anyway."

******

Part 1:

Sasha stared at the ornate key in his gloved hand. At the head, a figure of a bull was wrought in

the polished iron, an emerald-green tassel hanging from the joining of it's metal horns. He still wasn't sure

if he could go through with this.

But he was so very, very lonely. And the king had insisted he accept this gift, that it would be

good for him. Good for him to just this once indulge himself to relieve, even for just a short time, the

loneliness that shrouded every moment of every day of his life. He sighed and brushed away a tear that

started to roll down his cheek, smudging the dirt of road dust onto a dulled white glove.

Why did he have to be this desperate? To seek physical affection... no... any affection... from

one who had no choice but to give it? Why did he have to be born as he was? A freak. So repulsive to

everyone that even hiding all of himself barely allowed him friendships. He could never hope for more

than that. He was pathetic and he knew it. But he was lonely, and he knew that more.

He curled his hand tightly around the key, his shoulders heaving in a deep sigh. Jerking his heels

into his gray stallion's sides, he spurred Kaze into a gallop. The sooner he got to this 'Palace', the less time

he'd have to change his mind.

*******

He turned the key slowly in the lock, still uncertain. However, he was road-weary. It had taken

him four days to finally get to the Palace, stopping from time to time on the side of the road to rest,

avoiding the several inns that dotted his route. A willowy ghost in a stout darkness, he hated the stares

and strange looks he got wherever he went, even with his careful efforts at covering himself. Besides, he

liked the outdoors, the one place he felt free and accepted.

He opened the door, shoulders sagging in tiredness. What his masked eyes met was more

incredible than he ever expected.

A sense of softness and comfort and a faint melody pervaded the room. Cream-colored walls

surrounded him. Silk scrolls hung precisely spaced, each beautifully painted in a light, emotive

watercolored style of delicate flowers, majestic mountains towering above glistening lakes, cool, rushing

waterfalls. Several included flowing calligraphy of some foreign script he couldn't understand. Ceiling-high

bookshelves, stacked tightly with an endless variety of books, covered one corner. He noted that he

would have to peruse the selections later, perhaps finding some works of interest, such as military

histories, texts on swordsmanship and tactics, or even horse-breeding or horticulture.

He stepped forward, his leather riding boots echoing softly on the smooth, polished wooden floor,

the heavy door clicking shut behind him. Sasha set his traveling pack on the floor beside him and

continued further into the room.

Low and encircled by plump cushions of vibrant blue, purple, and gold silk, a black lacquered

table marked the center of the room. Artfully painted screens partitioned one corner, blocking the view of

what existed behind them. A trail of lavender silk drifted from a screen near the wall to fall among

multi-colored silks and satins spilling over a large futon set against another corner, piled with soft pillows

and bolsters, also silk and satin. It had a comfortable 'slept-in' look that brought a nervous twinge to his

stomach.

He turned back to the low table and the shoji screens of rich, polished wood and oiled rice paper

lining the back wall. He strode forward, past the black piano set in the remaining corner. The quiet song

lulling the room grew stronger. Sasha soundlessly slid aside the nearest screen and gasped at the lush

garden beyond.

Verdant bushes rolled like thick green waves along the lengths of the high garden wall, clustering

at the far end amongst full, fruit trees, ripe in reds, oranges and yellows. In the furthest corner, a small

waterfall gurgled and rushed from dark, moss-covered rock into a glittering pool. Vivid red, violet, blue,

and yellow, delicate flowers, at the edge of the crystal blue water, swayed heavy with dew from the

falling mist, as though dancing to the song stirring in the breeze. Beautiful.

But, most breathtaking was a lone figure sitting by the small pool. He gently strummed the

haunting melody on a guitar nestled in his lap, softly singing, his melodic baritone so beautiful and deep

birds would have envied it. His long black hair shimmered sapphire in the sunlight as it fell down his back

clasped in a neat tail.

Sasha bit his lip, clutching his hands together to stop them from shaking. How ... why... could he

be here? It had been over two months since he had last seen him, the first time only a few days before

that. Why him? Why? He definitely couldn't stay now. Not with him. He wouldn't be able to bear it. A

stranger maybe... not that he wasn't a stranger... but he was... different... special. He wasn't the same as a

stranger, even though all he knew was only his name and who he was, and none of that information from

the prince himself. No.. he had to leave. Perhaps this was a sign from the gods that he was meant to be

alone. That he wasn't meant to be held, or caressed or...

He wiped away a tear as he turned to leave. He took a step; the weariness in his muscles and

bones reminded him how tired he was. He would leave in the morning, after he rested. That would be

best.

That decided, there was no harm in listening a little longer to the lovely song. And no harm in

quietly watching the beautiful prince, the most majestic creature Sasha had ever seen: hair as darkest

midnight, when the moon is gently snuggled behind wispy violet clouds; skin a creamy bronze, so smooth

and perfect; and those eyes, though he was too far to see them now, they had forever been burned into

his memory from that first fateful meeting. He could... would... never forget them, shining like smoky,

marbled jade, pale and exotic and perfect. His breath had been stolen that first moment, that first glimpse

into the beauty, nobility, strength, gentleness of those pale green eyes, and the second, and the third...

Sasha didn't realize how weak his legs had become until the soft green grass cushioned his

trembling fingers. He found himself kneeling, almost as in reverence to the elegant music and the prince

that created it. The captivating voice drew him to calm and he stretched out onto his back, long slender

legs relaxing, crossing at the ankles, and slid his arms under his helmeted head. His face turned so his

hidden eyes remained on the dark prince by the pool, he drowned his fatigued body in the soothing

softness of the garden. The gentle melody floating from the pool eased his tired muscles and wrapped his

soul and mind in sweet caresses he knew his hideous skin would never feel. For now all that mattered was

the haunting song and the haunting prince who summoned it. Every ache drifted away, taken by the

melody: the aches of his travels; aches of his wrists, as the metal shrouding his face pressed them towards

tingling pain; aches of his heart, that same metal mask constantly reminding him of the barrier between

himself and everyone, a barrier no one dared or desired to cross.

As a soft breeze flowed over him, brushing his ink black waves of fine hair across his pale chin

and the little that was exposed of his slender neck, it carried teases of lavender, honeysuckle, and rose,

and fresh, cleansing water, and other scents he couldn't identify and was too at peace to truly care. He

drifted with the song, and his helm-shadowed eyes slowly slipped closed as sleep claimed him.

******

Part2:

Issai set his guitar beside him in the grass, tilting his face to the sky and drinking in the

warmth of sunlight and the cool spray misting from the waterfall. His sensual lips arched into a slight

sad smile as he closed his almond eyes, soft black lashes bowing to feather-kiss his cheeks, but

never touching. A low sigh breathed past his lips.

He loved this garden. It was beautiful and serene. But he loved his freedom more and he

feared he would never see it again. King Shion had made it very clear what was intended for him

when he was sent here... how long had it been now? By the gods, how days and weeks so easily

blended into each other. It seemed like he'd been here forever. Anticipating, waiting, dreading the

day the king would fulfill his threat and complete his dishonor. It was disgrace enough to be sold as

a slave, a sex slave, no less, though he was fortunate that no one had yet claimed him. Yet. The

lingering 'yet'.

King Shion wanted to break him, disgrace him, dishonor him. Issai knew full well this

slavery was only the beginning of that promise. Shion was a ruthless and shrewd man, with a

wicked wit. No, this was definitely only the beginning.

His mind snapped to just before he had been brought here by a small military escort. The

king had said, a malicious smirk on his rugged face, " You think I sicken you, dear prince? You

will pray the gods for even the company of the dark one himself, instead of the one I will send

to take you." He strode up to him till their chests almost touched and leaned to his ear, his

mustache tickling and his voice low and menacing. " Your delicate..." He spat," royal flesh

will be ravaged by one so detestable to your dainty sensibilities you will wish to gouge out your

own eyes. Your skin will crawl at his touch, and your stomach will turn as he takes you, and

uses you, again and again. " His dark eyes glowed with hate and rage as he hissed, thick with

venom, " but if I discover that you have shown him any of that repulsion or disgust, that you

have shown him anything other than complete pleasure and acceptance of his touch..." The

king grabbed his throat, squeezing at the base of his jaw. "... Know this! I will kill you, treaty be

damned!"

Issai shivered at the memory and the look he had seen in the king's eyes. He had meant

every word and the hate that flamed in the king's dark eyes still made his skin go cold.

Issai rose, hints of a strong toned body arching under fine flowing cloth. He shook the grass

from his loose, blue trousers as he bent down to gather his guitar. This morning the pure azure of

the sky had inspired him, and brought a temporary peace to his soul as he played and sang in it's

honor. But that moment was now gone, robbed by the dark thoughts of his captor and his prison.

He strolled towards the screened entryway leading to the main room from the gardens. Perhaps, a

bath would soothe him. A bath scented with lavender. Yes. That would do nicely. And afterwards...

He froze. The guitar slipped from hands and fell on to the ground with a discordant note. A

hundred feet or so ahead of him a figure lay sprawled on the grass. The greens and browns it wore

and his distracted mood had made it difficult to notice at first. If not for the bright glint of metal, he

might not have seen it at all till he was nearly upon it. Issai strode forward, his knees and spine

tingling and warm with dread.

As he stood over the sleeping man, he slowly recognized the silver helm, dulled with dust

and dirt, and the uniform jacket, though a forest green and not as adorned, was very similar to the

maroon he had seen the man in before. A tassel of a lighter, more vibrant green dangled from part of

an iron key peeking out of the jacket's breast pocket

So he was to be Issai's master? Just thinking the word disgusted him. Master! What an

awful word for a free man. But he wasn't a free man anymore, was he? That ended when he was

taken hostage, when he was taken here. He could, would, survive this, and with as much of his

dignity and honor intact as was possible.

His eyes roamed over the tall figure at his feet: gracefully muscled, slender legs wrapped in

brown breeches and riding boots; a strong chest, not quite broad, rising and falling in blissful sleep;

the jacket's high collar and a matching cravat framed what hinted to be a slender throat; feather-light

and oddly dark hair, a light blushed-cream, narrow and almost feminine chin streaked with dirt and

sweat, or perhaps... tears?; and petal perfect lips.

If this was the king's promise made flesh, then he had to be dreaming, because this was far

from the nightmare he had been dreading. Unless... unless the horror was the man himself, that he

was wretched of heart. Issai flung the thought aside. The sad turn of those delicate lips, even in

apparent restful sleep, and the remembered nobility of the man's bearing eased his mind.

He knelt down, his sea-green eyes drawn to the blacker than black locks of soft hair spilling

from beneath the metal mask like ink, a few curls fluttering under the slow breaths of the lips they

nearly brushed. He reached a tan hand to touch, telling himself it was just to wake the stranger, not

to discover if that hair was as soft as it looked or would melt or mist away, as he half suspected.

Dark waves, softer than the finest sable caressed his fingertips. Heavenly. He stroked his

fingers along the sinfully silky strands wanting to imprint the sensation into his skin. Unfortunately,

he was interrupted as the stranger moaned sleepily and sat up, rubbing his gloved wrists.

Abruptly the hands stopped and the helmeted head slowly rose, turned to the hand still on

his shoulder then moved along the path of Issai's slender arm, meeting the prince's faint smile with

hidden eyes.

" Hello, " Issai said, his smile warming the gray-green.

The masked man's pale lips thinned.

******

Nearly choking on the very air that brought him life, Sasha batted away the prince's hand, a

little more roughly than he had intended, but he couldn't have the prince dirtying himself by touching

him.

" Don't ," he managed to sputter, his deep voice rising slightly.

Issai calmly sat back on his heels and folded his hands on his lap. " I apologize. I didn't

mean to offend you. " Hurt confusion laced his otherwise pleasant tone.

" No!" Sasha replied quickly, too quickly. He lowered his head, shyly touching his hand to

his helmet, covering the only portion of his face that showed. " No,... not at all... I... I... I just don't

want you dirtied by me."

The young prince's smile widened. " Well, then we must get you cleaned." He stood,

graceful like a spring breeze through fine grass and held out his hand. " Come. "

We? Sasha stared at the hand, manicured and perfect, then at it's owner, who beamed with

pure friendliness. His throat tightened. He couldn't. Issai was too beautiful to mar with the truth.

Seeing the inevitable repulsion on that face would be more than his heart could take. Sasha shook

his head. " I can't... " ... `risk you seeing me,' he wanted to say.

" Nonsense. I can tell you've had a long trip and are weary. A nice warm bath will relax

you." Issai gently grabbed his wrist and lead him from the garden.

Sasha was too shocked to protest. The warmth of Issai's hand seeped past the cloth of his

glove, spread through his skin, and slowly blushed his cheeks.

The prince glanced over his shoulder at the flustered boy with a sultry smile. " Perhaps, a

massage as well," he winked.

Sasha choked and wrenched his hand from the prince's hold. " I... I would rather not!... Not

with... with... " he stammered.

Issai stood still, elegantly clasping his hands behind his back, his head tilted in curiosity. "

Surely you are not shy? As a soldier, you must have bathed in the presence of your comrades

countless times. "

Sasha lowered his head and fidgeted with his jacket sleeves.

" No? " The prince tapped a slender finger against his supple lips, his other arm remaining

behind his back. " So you are shy. How absolutely charming. " His smile brightened. " I like you."

he said as he threw an arm around the taller man's shoulders, gently urged him forward. " Nothing

to fear, ... what is your name? " Issai peered up expectantly at Sasha, his glasses glinting with pinks

and purples of the fading sunlight.

" Sasha," he replied, his head turned and bowed, cheeks under streaked dust blushing as the

sky.

The prince gave the younger man's shoulder a gentle squeeze. " It is indeed a pleasure to

meet you, Sasha. My name is Issai. "

" I... know, " Sasha admitted quietly.

" Oh? "

" I... I'm sorry you have to be here, Prince Issai. And with me."

The prince's eyes darkened to a smoky green as his lips slipped into a frown. " Well, let us

not talk of that. Out of honor and loyalty to my family and kingdom, I must do what I must do. "

He nervously pushed on the bridge of his glasses and forcing a weak smile, glanced at the helmeted

man. " It is not your fault, my charming Sasha. However, with fate providing me with such pleasant

company as you, my prison will be much easier to endure, even if for a short time."

" I... I'm not staying, " Sasha mumbled.

" And why would that be?"

Silence.

" Well let us get you cleaned first. Then you can decide whether to stay or not."

" But... " Sasha started to protest, however Issai's confident smile and kind eyes squelched

it.

" Now, as I was saying, there is nothing to fear, Sasha, I will draw a lovely bath for you and

leave you alone, if that is what you wish. " Issai's dusky green eyes whispered that leaving the

younger man alone was far from what Issai wished. " Is that acceptable? "

Sasha nodded.

" Good ... " Issai continued steering them forward toward the entryway. "... I intend to

make your stay as comfortable as possible. "

(End of Part 2)

The Taurus Key:

**** Part 3

Issai artfully prepared Sasha's bath, sprinkling the warm, clear water with crushed lavender

buds and pouring a lavender scented oil in elaborate whirls from a dusky purple vial. Gracefully

tucking a stray lock of his dark bangs behind an ear, he knelt to the edge of the sunken tub and

dipped a finger into the water. With a satisfied sigh, he stood.

He peeked around one of the vibrantly colored screens and caught Sasha pacing, his hands

fidgeting with his sleeves. A nervous habit perhaps?

" Your bath is ready," Issai said, stepping past the screens.

Sasha nearly jumped and spun to face the calmly smiling prince.

Issai chuckled softly to himself. The soldier was like a shy, skittish rabbit. He made being

the one in control both so easy... and so frustrating. And with his starched posture, prim uniform,

and warrior's helm, the blushed cheeks and meek manner were all the more adorable for their

contrast. Mysterious and innocent, and so intriguing.

" Thank you," Sasha said as he quickly collected himself. " You didn't need to. I... "

" Preparing a proper bath is an art. I couldn't have a soldier mucking it up, now, could I?"

His full lips slid into a playful, larger smile. " Now get going before it gets cold and my artist's

sensibilities are offended," he added, a laugh at the edge of the mock seriousness in his voice.

" I'm sorry. Thank you." Sasha bowed his helmeted head and hurried past Issai and the

screens to the awaiting bath.

By the gods! He wanted to fling aside that horrid helm, release those sinfully soft waves

from their metal prison, and uncover the eyes that remained hidden from him. Discover the thoughts

and feelings they were sure to reveal given the ease the rest of Sasha's body revealed his feelings.

But the body wasn't enough, he wanted to glimpse Sasha's soul and eyes were the clearest window.

********

Nervously peering over his shoulder at the open space between the screens that led to the

other room, Sasha raised shaky hands to the collar of his jacket. Just a bath to clean off the grime of

the road, and a good night's sleep; Not that he expected to sleep well, the prince's mere presence

was a constant tormenting reminder of what he could not have, not willingly, not without duress; He

would leave in the morning, riding back home as swiftly as his horse would take him, with the

confirmation that even shallow, temporary happiness was always, and would always be, beyond his

reach. A forbidden thing for a hideous freak like him, and a foolish thing to hope for. He'd return to

his duties, lose himself in training and battle where only skill mattered.

The watchful angle of his helm never wavering, trembling fingers rigidly began loosing the

gold buttons. He shrugged the jacket off his strong shoulders and set it neatly on a shelf, next to the

stack of towels. Bending down, maintaining his vigil, he proceeded to slip off his boots, beating them

against each other to knock off some of the dust, then set them aside.

Next, darting fingers unthreaded the laces of his forest green, soft cotton shirt, revealing pale

skin slowly as the cloth slipped inch by inch from his toned chest then shoulders. Shirt, matching

cravat, gloves, breeches, soon joined the jacket tidily on the shelf, each removed with the same

wariness and shame.

Finally, with an apprehensive sigh, he lifted the dusty helm from his head and began to

place it on the pile of folded clothes when Issai suddenly appeared at the entryway. The helm

clattered to the tiled floor with a metallic ring. Sasha cringed. A paralyzing ache, a searing cold,

clawed between his shoulders, and tight pain twisted his stomach as the look of horror he had

dreaded with all his soul filled the prince's lovely face.

******

Issai froze. Stunned. His mouth hung open slightly as he unconsciously gasped. " By the

gods! You`re... "

The soft light of the fading sun enveloped Sasha's porcelain skin, caressing a body of toned

muscle and smooth grace. Bright, white-gold hair crowned his head, blending into the satin-black

that fell lightly against his shoulders. He was an angel, statuesque and pale and glowing.

In a splash, Sasha vanished, a sparkling rain of lavender scent saturating the air and falling

like drops of crystal. Issai blinked. He let the stack of clothes in his arms drop to the floor, forgotten,

and with careful steps on the white, water slicked tiles, approached. Several tiny purple buds drifted

along the squared rivulets on the floor, returning lazily to swirl in the angry wake rippling the surface

of the warm, scented water.

Issai knelt at the bath's edge, studying the pale submerged form curled tightly in a far

corner, a curious smile and concerned quirk of a dark brow perfectly displaying his confusion.

" Sasha."

The only response was air bubbling to the surface, agitating strands of black-bleeded

platinum hair swaying like fine seaweed.

He pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose and nervously bit his lip as he leaned

forward, a hand gripping the tiled rim of the tub. Sasha didn't appear to be moving, though bubbles

continued fluttering to the surface.

" What are you doing?" At first he thought the soldier was playing a game, perhaps testing

how long he could forego air. But with a skip of a breath, a tug in his chest, and a widening of dusky

green eyes, Issai realized. Pain and shame had flashed on the younger man's face the moment the

prince had walked into the room.

Issai launched himself into the thigh-deep water, concern rising in his eyes. Before he could

move towards Sasha, the black gilded platinum head lurched to the surface with a gasp. He slumped

against the cold tiled edge of the bath, his head buried in his arms, huddled like he was using all his

strength to become as small and invisible as possible. His back to the prince, his shoulders rose and

fell heavily, the water lapping against his upper back as he coughed and gulped air back into his

lungs.

"Sasha," Issai said quietly, concern lacing his gentle voice as he waded towards the younger

man. " What.... "

" D... don't... Please...don't," he groaned, with a resigned sadness, between breaths.

The hem of his light blue tunic floated about him as Issai surged forward within arms reach

of Sasha and stopped, gauging the other man. " What is troubling you?"

" Nothing." The voice was so quiet and breathless Issai barely heard it.

" You're trembling. I don't think it is because of nothing."

" It's nothing I haven't come to expect." The tinge of bitterness, sadness, defeat, in Sasha's

once noble, shy voice brought a tightness to Issai's eyes.

Issai gently rested a hand on Sasha's shivering shoulder. " Please, look at me. Tell me

what's wrong."

Sasha choked back a whimper. " I can't! I can't bear anymore... No more. Please!"

" What? No more what, Sasha?"

" I... I didn't want... "

Issai leaned closer, his warm breath wafting across the damp skin of the younger man's

slender neck. He began stroking his fingers through the soft white-gold hair thick with water, slick

and brilliant as liquid silver. " Yes?" he urged almost tenderly.

Sasha shuddered and sank to his knees. The water splashed against his throat, his head still

buried in a nest of his arms. " Nevermind," he sighed. "I'm... I'm just so tired..."

The prince slid his skilled hands to Sasha's shoulders, who immediately tensed at the touch.

" Shhh... just relax, " Issai soothed, as his fingers rubbed the younger man's smooth skin in a gentle

massage.

A pale blur. The taller man whirled around, rising to his full height and batted Issai's hands

away from him. "Stop! "

For the first time, Issai got a clear look at Sasha's face and was struck speechless. Crystal

blue eyes, faintly lavender like the sunsetting sky, flared, two majestic jewels in an equally majestic

face of blushed alabaster. He lost himself in those eyes, seeking in them all that was the shy, angelic

soldier, oblivious to all else around him. Dear gods! He was beyond beautiful. Even in anger.

Fine platinum brows wrinkled as deep sorrow filled those captivating eyes, the anger that

raged in them battling to keep hold. "I don't know which I detest more, the revulsion or the pity."

" Revulsion? Pity?... " Issai didn`t know which troubled him the most, the deadness of that

soft voice or the complete surrender to a glaring lie. `... Your delicate royal flesh will be ravaged

by one so detestable to your dainty sensibilities you will wish to gouge out your own eyes. Your

skin will crawl at his touch, and your stomach will turn as he takes you, and uses you, again

and again.... but if I discover that you have shown him any of that repulsion or disgust, that you

have shown him anything other than complete pleasure and acceptance of his touch... '