By C. S. Pacat
This was once Vere, voluptous and decadent, kingdom of honeyed poison.”
Damen is a warrior hero to his humans, and the rightful inheritor to the throne of Akielos, but if his part brother seizes strength, Damen is captured, stripped of his identification, and despatched to serve the prince of an enemy kingdom as a excitement slave.
Beautiful, manipulative and lethal, his new grasp Prince Laurent epitomizes the worst of the courtroom at Vere. yet within the deadly political net of the Verethian courtroom, not anything is at it sort of feels, and whilst Damen reveals himself stuck up in a play for the throne, he needs to interact with Laurent to outlive and shop his country.
For Damen, there's only one rule: by no means, ever demonstrate his real identification. as the one guy Damen wishes is the single guy who has extra purposes to hate him than a person else...
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Additional info for Captive Prince, Volume 1
Damen jerked against the restraints. They didn’t budge. His wrists were already bruised. On this side of the water, a miscellany of cushions and towels were arranged in an appealing tumble. Coloured glass bottles in a variety of shapes, containing a variety of oils, glimmered like jewels amid the cushions. The water was scented, milky, and decorated with slowly drowning rose petals. All the niceties. This could not be happening, Damen felt a surge in his chest; fury, outrage and somewhere buried beneath these a new emotion that twisted and roiled in his belly.
Her breasts were full and swelled beneath the gauze; her pink nipples were faintly visible. Damen watched her approach with the same wariness with which he would follow the movements of an opponent on the field, though he was no stranger to being serviced by slaves. Her hand rose to the clasp at her shoulder. She exposed the curve of a breast, a slender waist, the gauze sliding down to her hips, and lower. Her garments dropped to the floor. Then she picked up a water scoop. Naked, she bathed his body, soaping and rinsing, heedless of the way the water spilled against her own skin and splashed her round breasts.
They had thrown him into a cell deep in the bowels of the house, after which, they had drugged him. Days had bled into one another. Of the rest he recalled only brief snatches including—his stomach sank—the slap and spray of salt water: transportation aboard a ship. His head was clearing. His head was clearing for the first time in— how long? How long since his capture? How long since the bells had rung? How long had he allowed this to go on? A surge of will drove Damen from his knees onto his feet.