He
looked at the smirking Nobek. Bevau stood still, but he thrummed with energy.
Clajak knew taking such a man down would be a profound achievement. He needed
time to figure this out.
Stalling
so he could do just that, Clajak said, “Hmm. I’m not sure you have a valid
point, my Imdiko. Tell me, Bevau, what is the protocol for obeying dissenting
orders from two princes?”
Bevau
cocked his head to consider the question. “I would have to make a judgment call
and serve the one I believe to be the most entitled. That would be based on the
situation, not privilege of birth, by the way.” He gave Clajak a narrow gaze.
A curl
of excitement and dismay swirled in Clajak’s gut. The Nobek had identified
Clajak as the greater physical threat of the two royals. Of course the warrior
would want to overcome that first, rather than the more intellectual Egilka.
Clajak
needed to think faster. If he didn’t come up with some ruse that would outsmart
Bevau, the Nobek would get him in a compromising position. No doubt the
prince’s rogue of an Imdiko would be more than happy to go along with that,
hoping to get an opportunity to top as well.
Keeping
his tone unconcerned, Clajak asked, “Are you saying that I would be in the
wrong?”
Egilka’s
eyes danced with merriment. He could tell which way the wind was blowing too.
“You, wrong? Perish the thought.”
A
frontal attack on Bevau was out. A trained soldier, a high commander of the
ground forces no less, the man would have Clajak on his belly and a cock up his
ass before the Dramok could land the first blow.
Still
stalling for time and knowing he was running out of that commodity, Clajak
dropped onto a seating cushion. Playing nonchalant, he eyed his companions.
There was no denying the predatory glint in both sets of eyes that trained on
him. Clajak’s nervous excitement edged up another notch.
He
confronted the situation head-on. “Ganging up on me, I see. And here I was
thinking of pleasant ways to while away the time until we can venture back
outside.”
Egilka
shot Bevau a conspiratorial grin. “That’s pretty much all he ever thinks
about.”
“So
I’ve heard. Such things have their time and place.” The Nobek looked about the
shelter. There wasn’t much to look at. “With this being a new facility, no one
has thought to put distractions in here. With nothing else to do, this place
will surely see its share of such activities. We have the time. And I have the
inclination.”
Bevau’s
gaze fell on Clajak again. His eyes had gone dark, and the look on his face had
turned pure, hungry Nobek. Clajak thought maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea
for him to put himself on the floor, where he could easily be pinned down. Yet
he thought if he tried to rise now, Bevau would be on him like a ravening
zibger.
Egilka
didn’t make the situation any better. Even the gentlest Imdikos could sense
when prey was ready to be taken. “You should know that Clajak is heavily
afflicted with the Dramok’s curse.”
Bevau
grinned. His fang peeked out. “He has to run the show, huh?”
Egilka
sighed. “Unfortunately. I’ve found it takes a great deal of craft to put him on
the bottom.”
The
game was coming to a close, and Clajak was on the losing side. He sat straight
up, his eyes narrowing at his clanmate. “All right, Imdiko, I know what you’re
playing at. Don’t even think about it.”
Egilka
ignored him, speaking familiarly to Bevau. “That means you’ll have to make that
judgment you referred to earlier. Who would you obey in this situation?”
Bevau’s
grin was pure deviltry. Clajak knew the last play was at hand, but he didn’t
have a decent move left to him ... if he’d ever had one at all. With no
strategy making itself known to him, instinct took over. He tried to get to his
feet.
An
instant later he was flat on his back, lying on the long seating cushion. Bevau
was on top of him, holding him down, his rigid erections pressing against
Clajak’s.
Releasing September 2015
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