Micah felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

The man was drop-dead gorgeous, wearing a beautifully tailored Old Earth tuxedo, black boots and a crisp black bow tie. The frill of a white dress shirt peeped out above the ‘V’ of the jacket. The jet-black suit had obviously been custom-made for him as he was too tall and too muscular to be able to find a suit like that in any shop.

The crowd was absolutely silent, everyone drinking in the masculine beauty of this man.

And Micah knew he’d found Prince Denyan.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the god said in a voice that made Micah think of dark rooms and hot, slick skin.

Still no sound, still that hushed expectation from the crowd.

Then the music started, a pounding rhythm to accompany those graceful hands as they began to undo the buttons on the tuxedo jacket one by one, revealing the pristine white shirt beneath. Micah couldn’t tear his eyes away as the man finished undoing the buttons and pulled the sides of the jacket apart, his wide shoulders bunching beneath the material as he shrugged out of it, letting the garment drop to the floor. The men began to howl.

The shirt was next, with its unbelievably tiny buttons. One by one they were undone until a thin sliver of the massive chest beneath was unveiled.

The figure turned his back on the crowd, revealing long dark hair caught back in a thick braid. Micah was afraid he was going to leave the stage, but he just stood motionless until the noise subsided. As the crowd fell silent, he reached up and, tugging the band from the bottom, unwound the braid, leaving his hair hanging loose down his back.

As he turned back to face the audience, a young man appeared on stage, carrying a silver pail. The prince grabbed a chair from the side of the stage, brought it to the front and turned it backward. He sat down, held onto the chair, then leaned back and closed his eyes as the young man began to slowly pour the water down his powerful chest. The water quickly soaked the white shirt, making it transparent and revealing glimpses of what lay beneath. The man gently poured some of the water through Prince Denyan’s long dark hair, where it cascaded down and formed a pool behind him.

Micah had never seen anything like it. The music was relentless in its driving, throbbing beat, and the lust given off by the prince was palpable. It was as if the water fanned the fire, not quenched it, and Micah wanted this man with an unbelievable hunger.

The pail empty, the young man strode away, leaving the figure sitting in the chair. Slowly he rose, the shirt plastered to his body, and shook the water from his hair. Droplets went everywhere, and Micah felt some land on his lips. The men in the audience began to shout and hoot. Micah licked away the drops and looked right at the stranger, meeting his eyes, and knew that this was the man in Layla’s vision. This was the final link in their connection, the circle of three was complete.

Prince Denyan.

Hello, Micah. You’ve finally arrived.