Page 24 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

Lazaar

Lazaar agreed.

He wanted to wow his beloved. He wanted the fairies to give him a different style each day so Zepharali never tired of staring at him.

“How long does the council hold your father?” Lazaar fidgeted in his seat.

Elephaa chuckled. “He should be along soon, your grace.”

Lazaar was busy watching some burly, very hairy men erect a stage across the square that Elephaa said was for a grand play that would be performed in a few moons.

He didn’t see the man with a large court approaching until he was kneeling in front of him.

He became apprehensive and repulsed.

Lazaar didn’t know how he could sense deceit in this man…but he did, without mistake.

Elephaa tensed beside him, and the titanesses in his detail came close enough to his back that he could feel their body heat.

A lanky, bald, pointy-eared being—of a species Lazaar didn’t recognize—stood behind the man on bended knee.

“Prince Lazaaras Nyateagor, I present my lord, Joranath of Aezedin, the Land of the Golden Isles.”

The bottom-feeder lord of golden, who must’ve thought he was the most gorgeous man in existence, stared at Lazaar with a long, smoldering leer before he reached for his hand to kiss.

Without thought, Lazaar spat a warning hiss, his fangs protruding before he yanked his hand out of reach.

No one touched him intimately except his beloved.

The lord appeared insulted and shocked, but it didn’t stop him.

“Lovely prince, I’ve traveled a long distance, through many realms, to meet the one and only tribrid. Lazaaras, Lord of Fire and Warrior of the Flame.” He tried to gaze deeper into Lazaar’s eyes, pushing unwelcome energy toward him that made the roast deer churn in his gut. “The Defiant of the—”

“I already know who I am,” Lazaar said through clenched teeth.

He turned to Elephaa and whispered in her ear, not caring how rude he appeared.

“Who in the gods is this, and why is he taking a knee? I am not the ruler of this world.”

“It’s a ploy, your grace. Joranath is a collateral descendant of Hedylogos, and—”

“Who? I’ve never heard that name before.”

“He’s the god of flattery and seduction. Joranath is one of the most sought-after royal bachelors in the realms. He likes bedding and parading his conquests rather than committing to a binding union, using his seductive lore like a weapon,” she whispered. “Be careful, Prince. Remember, you’ve become even more irresistible since you’ve touched my father’s wind.”

The man got to his feet, cleared his throat, and then pushed against Lazaar’s core even harder.

“Can I entice the adored prince to stroll with me through the market?”

“You certainly cannot.”

Lazaar stood as well, he was almost a head taller than the intruder as he scowled down on him with the purest disdain.

His angry demeanor made his protector react.

Myst released an ear-piercing caw before she tucked her wings tight to her sides and dove toward the ground.

She came in so low it made the sneaky lord and his court duck to keep from getting plowed over or singed by her steam.

Myst stalked around the men, her wings dripping sparks of fire, and stood poised behind Lazaar, ready to attack at even the subtlest command.

Lazaar was about to tell the man to whom he belonged, but he didn’t have to. Before he could speak, Lazaar felt his beloved close, smelled his wind.

He turned both ways, then glanced over Jorajut…Jarnat…whatever the hell the man’s name was, and saw Zepharali standing tall before his elite guards, watching the exchange with a mix of fury…and nervousness.

Knowing how the rest of Zepharali’s lovers had shunned him right after sharing his bed and taking his wind, Lazaar made a show of shoving the so-called sweet talker to the side so hard he stumbled over his long gold cloak and hit the ground.

Lazaar didn’t spare him a backward glance or an apology. He also didn’t care about the stunned crowd as he blinked across the square and slammed into Zepharali’s chest, burying his nose in his throat.

“My lord, my beloved,” he whispered in worship. “How I have missed you.”

A second later, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause so loud it hurt Lazaar’s ears.

“My heart’s love,” Zepharali mouthed against Lazaar’s cheek, igniting his body with need. “You please me greatly.”

“Show me,” he requested boldly.