Page 15 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

Lazaar

Lazaar’s heart sank as he watched Zepharali—his own beloved—walk away from him with ease.

“He turned his back on me, Olek. He imprisoned me.”

“My lord—”

“No. How did he reject me?” Lazaar whimpered in agony from the corner of his dark cell. “I can’t handle this… I just can’t.”

He sat with his back pressed to the stone wall, staring up at the forty-foot-high ceiling made of metal bars too thick for anyone to break.

The sky was dim, the suns long gone, casting eerie shadows around him that provided him with zero comforts.

Myst sat perched above him, her long talons clutching one of the bars and her obsidian eyes watching for his distress.

He hadn’t been treated cruelly. He and his guardian were given hot food and drink, but Lazaar’s appetite was nonexistent… Well, for the kind of food they offered.

He was trying to contain the storm of emotions churning in the pit of his stomach like rotten meat. He wanted to scream, cry, throw his fireballs in a fit of rage, anything to consume the indescribable ache in his chest.

At least his fangs had receded during his long trek behind the well-built, intimidating women in full warrior armor. Some had wielded spears. Others had carried swords and axes at their sides.

Lazaar knew they were all Zepharali’s daughters because of their sun-kissed hair and alluring hazel eyes.

His supposed beloved had left him in the care of soldiers who would hurt him if he failed to comply with their orders.

“Olek, Mother Earth said the Lord of the Summer Winds would be my bel—”

“Lazaar.” Oleksandr nodded to the four guards standing watch, observing his behavior and listening to his every word.

Oleksandr sat across from him on the other side of the cell.

“My lord, he is, I can swear that to you. But he’s also a proud titan who’s not used to being disobeyed.”

Lazaar went silent.

He could sense Zepharali was close, but for Lazaar, he wasn’t close enough.

He wondered if his beloved was thinking of him as much as he was him.

Lazaar prayed he was not upset or disappointed in him or angry for the way he’d hidden on his mountain for so long. But he’d been afraid.

“My prince, when Lord Zepharali returns, you must be more forthcoming and obey him.”

He dropped his head between his knees. “I can’t control it when he’s so near.”

“I know your thirst is strong, but it will only get more intense until you connect with him.” Oleksandr came to him and touched his shoulder, but Lazaar still flinched. “The titan will not react in the same way as a human. He’s far stronger and somewhat able to resist the pull of your fated bond…but not for long. I promise, lord.”

“Embrace who you are, Prince. Accept that you are the one and only tribrid, a fire lord, and a worthy consort for a titan.”

Lazaar didn’t speak for a long moment until his stomach began to rumble and his heart rate soared.

He’s coming.

A second later, the ground trembled with heavy footsteps and a steady marching cadence. Lazaar leapt to his feet, unable to contain his anticipation, and rushed toward the bars, clutching them for dear life.

“Embrace it,” Oleksandr encouraged, “know how strong you are and control it. You are far more powerful than your starvation.”

The metal doors to the prison were pulled open, and the first thing that struck him was the scent of honeysuckle, oranges, and stimulating energy.

His fangs pushed through his gums, but he released a long exhale, closed his eyes, and reached for his core. When he opened them again, his incisors no longer touched his bottom lip, and his heart wasn’t trying to escape.

The Titan of the East came into view and stood in all his glory in front of six imposing women.

Lazaar didn’t speak as he gazed up and down at his supposed life partner. He was gorgeous beyond words. Even in the darkness, Zepharali was like a ray of sunshine he couldn’t look away from.

He’d never felt this kind of want, had never been rendered breathless at the sight of any man or woman.

Lazaar had been sheltered from intimacy and romance. Perhaps the people planted in his world had been forbidden to engage him in such acts.

Regardless, he never thought he’d experience something that wasn’t in his nature.

Or so he’d been led to believe.

Perhaps having a beloved made those sensations—like the throbbing between his thighs—rise within him.

He didn’t hate it, but nothing being done about it was making him delirious.

Lazaar swallowed a lump of anxiety and nervousness when Zepharali’s gaze traveled over his body.

Oh no. He doesn’t like the way I look.

Lazaar glanced down at his ratty clothes, the mud and caked-on grime from days ago. Lazaar was nose-blind to how he smelled. Gods only knew he must smell like a rank troll.

Oleksandr cleared his throat to get Lazaar’s attention, then nodded in Zepharali’s direction. He’d remained silent as if awaiting something.

Lazaar licked his dry lips before he dipped his chin to his chest. “My lord.”

Zepharali hummed as if he approved and stepped close enough for Lazaar to reach between the bars and touch him.

“You are willing to speak to me now?”

Lazaar was breathless and dazed, but he managed to answer without his fangs dropping. “Yes, my lord.”