Page 39

Chapter One

I solation can affect a man in many ways.

He can either feel apart from his world, merely looking in from the outside, or by contrast, he may feel at the very center of it with events revolving around him and beginning to coalesce.

Kris had been at the edge looking in for his entire life, but the balance in focus was about to shift.

He had no recollection of his own mother’s touch.

His mother—one of the last living dragons of the prior cycle—had died not long after his birth.

He hadn’t even been old enough to feed himself.

Only two of the monks at the monastery where he was born could accomplish the task.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he learned those two men were different from all the others.

They were dragons, like his mother, but they had been cursed never to manifest their true forms.

They became his caregivers, and later, his teachers.

He learned the marks on his body had been given to him by his mother when he was just a newborn.

The large dragon shape that graced his torso and the inky scales on his thighs looked as fresh and vibrant as they had the day they’d been applied, even twenty-five years later.

The significance of his status became apparent very early on.

His teachers maintained their distance from him, their proximity only dictated by the type of lesson required.

Early lessons could be taught from a few feet away.

Later in his youth, their combat lessons required closer instruction, yet they were always careful to avoid contact.

On the rare but inevitable occasion when they did accidentally touch him, the experience was never pleasant—the sensation akin to the time he’d grievously burned his palm on the kitchen stove.

The other monks who lived at the monastery never touched him.

In spite of the experience, touch became something he craved, even if it was merely the casual touches that the monks he lived with shared between each other.

He’d always experienced some pleasure and comfort from his own touch, but it wasn’t until he was twelve years old that the light stroke of his hand on his stiff prick became a substitute for what he believed he was missing.

The slide of his palm against his hardened flesh could be a balm to his worries, but it never lasted.

Kris knew there had to be something transcendent that happened beyond the end of the touching.

He would stroke himself for longer minutes each night, the pleasure escalating more each time.

He felt like there was some threshold he should cross as a result, but never could quite get there, like the door was perpetually locked.

His caregivers never overtly discouraged it, but Kris soon discovered unpleasant side effects.

He always ended up cranky and out of sorts once he finally gave up out of frustration.

Eventually his teachers explained that his unique situation prevented him from finding satisfaction, and that by learning the discipline they and the other monks had to teach, he would be able to endure the frustration—maybe even find some peace from it.

They also explained that when the time came, he would get to experience that Nirvana, and that it would be the most soul-defining experience of his life.

Kris dutifully threw himself into his training, the understanding of what his teachers explained as his destiny driving him forward.

While the monks were decidedly celibate, his two teachers only pretended to be. It was a surprising discovery to learn that what his teachers, Zak and Darius, truly abstained from was not sex at all.

Late one night Kris found himself unable to sleep, waking up with an irritating erection.

Such occasions became easier to deal with the older he got.

At eighteen, he’d learned that a long walk around the stone paths of the compound would usually allow his mind to calm and focus on other things besides the vivid, erotic dreams that came to him while he slept.

He always woke craving touch, but knowing if he gave in to the temptation, he’d only be left frustrated.

When he padded on slippered feet around the corner of the bath house that night, he was surprised to see the soft glow coming from within and hear the murmur of voices through the window. It was uncommon for anyone who wasn’t sitting in meditation to be awake at that hour.

He’d paused at the edge of the window, remaining in the shadows.

Moist, aromatic air drifted out, the scent of lemongrass tickling his nostrils.

Through the steamy air within, he could see the two men, naked in the bath and wrapped in a tender embrace.

His teachers never touched in public. They were as polite, quiet, and reflective as any of the human monks, but that night, Kris witnessed the truth of their relationship.

His own erection returned when Darius, the older of the two, climbed out of the stone bath and sat on the edge of the small, rectangular pool.

Zak came closer, combing his fingers through his wet hair, and rested his hands on his lover’s naked thighs on either side of his jutting erection.

They kissed, Darius gripping Zak’s jaw and tilting his head back with both hands.

Kris was first overcome by irrational envy. To feel the lips of another person on his own, to feel such tender, intimate emotion, was something he dreamed about, but had never known in life. He almost turned and stalked off, but couldn’t quite bring himself to stop watching.

Zak slipped his hand down and gripped Darius’s cock by the base, slowly and surely stroking it while they kissed.

Darius murmured a soft affirmation and leaned back, tilting his hips upward for the other man.

Zak slipped his mouth over the tip of his lover’s shaft and engulfed him between his lips while continuing to stroke with his hand.

Kris knew the steady build of pressure well.

He could feel it now because his own hand had unconsciously slipped beneath the waist of his pants and begun stroking and squeezing his cock.

He knew better, but couldn’t help himself.

Darius panted and moaned, raising one hand to the side of Zak’s head, encouraging him to quicken his tempo.

Within a moment, the man’s torso tensed and his hips thrust hard into his lover’s grip.

Kris paused his futile stroking and watched, wide-eyed at the transformation that overcame his teacher, one he’d aspired to but never yet achieved—the intense concentration followed by an explosive release and then satiation while Zak licked his lips and smiled like a smug cat polishing off its kill.

“My turn,” Zak said.

Kris’s erection throbbed almost painfully.

He abruptly stopped stroking and turned to go back to his room to suffer in solitude.

It took days for him to recover from his self-abuse.

When he finally did, he’d confessed what he’d witnessed to his teachers and asked why they weren’t celibate like the other monks.

“Dragons follow different laws,” Darius told him, and proceeded to explain the exchange of power that occurred during that moment of sexual release; it was that energy that allowed the two dragons to maintain their human forms without descending into madness. “Your time will come.”

Kris begrudgingly accepted his teacher’s explanation, but steered clear of the bath house during his evening walks after that.

Soon his training was finished, and his teachers told him it was time.

They explained that once his journey was complete, he would return to the monastery for one final task, but that after that, his life free and unburdened by the restrictions of his youth.

He gathered his things and left the monastery for what he thought was the last time, uncertain but excited about what the future would hold.

The solemn responsibility of his role occupied his mind less than the thrill of discovering what lay in store for him afterward.

In a Singapore hostel after a year of traveling, he’d had the first dream.

A beautiful woman with sleek auburn hair and a fierce expression appeared, accompanied by a group of other young, attractive people.

“Show me your secret,” the woman said to him just before kneeling to pleasure him with her mouth.

He woke drenched in sweat and panting, his cock hard and hypersensitive, but he believed the dream was a sign that he was closer to the end.

A week later, he found the six explorers in a small bar near the hostel. It had to be them, he decided, but sat quietly at the bar trying to listen to their conversation, waiting to see what would happen next.

One of the women from the group approached the bar and sat beside him. She wore cargo shorts that displayed long, tanned legs. Her expression caused a jolt of recognition to shoot through him. He knew her from his dreams.

In what seemed a desperate plea, she asked the bartender in Mandarin if he knew where she could find a jungle guide. The sullen man merely eyed her chest and made a rude comment about finding a tour guide somewhere else.

“Well, fuck me for having tits,” she muttered.

“I can take you there,” Kris said in a low tone when the bartender was out of earshot.

The woman turned an eager look on him and Kris was struck by her determination. “Do you know the place? They call it Keseronokan Kuil.”

Kris smiled to himself. Pleasure Temple. Of course they called it that.

He’d never been inside it, but his teachers had told him what lay within. He knew of the ritual to awaken their brethren and his part in it. Knowing the power of the temple had been the focus of his training for the last few years before he left the monastery.