Book Title: Desert Ice
Author: Rose Maefair
Publisher: Self-Published – listed as Motely Cat Publishing
Cover Artist: MiblArt
Release Date: October 31, 2022 (First published January 30, 2017)
Genres: M/M Romance, Fantasy, Adventure
Tropes: Captive prince, enemies to lovers, misunderstanding
Themes: Forgiveness, Stranger in a Strange land
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 131 830 words/ 531 pages
It is intended to be the first in a series. It is a revised version of the edition released in 2017.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Lysander is a mage more used to commanding earth, metal, and wood than people. How is he to be master of a slave, and the slave’s desire, when Lysander hasn’t fully mastered his own?
Blurb
Lysander is a gentle mage who wants a warrior slave to save his family. Wyl is a betrayed prince who wants his freedom and what was taken from him. Their hearts and desires collide amidst storm, steel, and magic in the desert. Lysander can master the elements, but can he master his desire for Wyl? Can Wyl fight for, let alone love, any man that dares to own him? (Revised Edtion)
As before, Wyl was being led through the streets of Tandir at the end of a chain. He tried to make sense of his fate and the man to whom he was currently bound. Neither of which he really understood.
This morning, after Haseid—
Lysander, he corrected himself. Wyl would call no man “master,” at least not to himself. There were limits on how far he would go to act the part of the good byinndi.
This morning, after Lysander had made the simple copper ring for the female slave, Wyl had believed there was some redemption in the man.
Yet after their morning meal, Wyl’s faith had broken. Lysander had turned and sighed. He’d picked up the chains and cuffs and began a string of babble there was no hope of deciphering, but it didn’t matter. Wyl knew what it all meant. Lysander wanted him in chains again.
Wyl had wanted to fight. His sore muscles fairly thrummed with the need to resist. He had readied himself for defiance but then forced his body to relax. The time was not right. He was still in the city. So instead, he’d let out a deep breath, nodded, and held out his wrists. Then he’d closed his eyes and tried not to think of the shame he brought to himself as he willing let another main chain him.
“Wylham?” Lysander’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Ya?”
Lysander pointed to another building.
Wyl looked at the desert man, and his sore body was rigid with tension.
“Wylham, good. Ya? Good, byinndi. Good Wylham,” Lysander said, somewhere between a plea and a weak order.
Wyl hid a wry grin behind his scarf and nodded. Lysander may be used to commanding metal, but he isn’t used to commanding men. I’ve seen more confidence in a calf.
Tensions seemed to suddenly bleed out of Lysander’s body as he let out a sigh, and his shoulders dropped. He led them into the building.
As Wyl watched him, other memories of the morning drifted back. He’d woken to see Lysander stripped bare, coated in a fine sheen of sweat, and moving with the grace of a swan in flight. His muscles flowed under his skin as if they were living beings all their own. His eyes had been closed, and his face relaxed, but there had been a look of concentration and an air of confidence Wyl had not seen on the man’s face before.
Wyl had been struck by the desert man’s beauty. He had been fascinated with each deliberate movement, and as Lysander had continued to move, Wyl had discovered, despite the abuses of the day before, his body was not immune to the sight.
It was beyond any logic that he should desire the other man, but he did. Denying it further would not make it go away. Wyl’s mouth had watered, wanting to taste the sweat shining on Lysander’s skin. Wyl’s hands had ached to hold the thick cock nestled sweetly against full, ripe balls and stroke it to a long, meaty hardness.
The only thing I should want from him is his entrails spilling out over my hands. Yet Wyl’s loins had wanted something else. It hadn’t helped that when Lysander had stopped his movements and found his byinndi watching him, the powerful mage had blushed like a virgin.
Wyl had hated that. He’d hated that he found the man who’d bought him so beautiful and desirable. Yet his hate had done nothing to quench his hunger. He would have liked to believe the desire had been born of the cursed spell put upon him, but he was not one to so easily delude himself. Lysander was beautiful, and Wyl had always had a taste for fine and beautiful things.
At that moment, Wyl had had to know for sure who the desert man was. He had had to know for sure what his name was. He had not expected Lysander to give it to him so easily.
Rose lives in southern Indiana. When she isn’t writing, she can be found gaming or out with friends. Nearby conventions are also familiar haunts. She’s especially fond of coffee shops and cats. However, no matter what she is up to, her muse diligently takes notes, seeks inspiration, and weaves together plots and ideas.
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