Dalatteya didn’t have to fake the look of concern. “What about my son?”
“His vitals are a little better, but…” The doctor sighed. “I’ll be honest with you, my lady: his condition will deteriorate very soon too if we keep him restrained like this. I have tried suppressing the drug with various suppressors, but it’s so alien that our medicine simply doesn’t work on it. Sedatives don’t work, either—their bodies are burning through them at an alarming rate, and using stronger sedatives is dangerous when we don’t know how they would react with the alien drug in their systems. It might do more harm than good, and with how strained their vitals already are, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Dalatteya swallowed. How? How could Uriel have made this mistake? He was normally so reliable and competent. Uriel was smarter than that. Even if the plan was carried out perfectly and Samir hadn’t been affected, this drug’s effects would have still been too obvious and Warrehn could rightly argue that he wasn’t responsible for his actions under its influence. This was a disaster.
“Is there a cure?” Dalatteya said, unsure what answer she wanted to hear. She didn’t want her son to be under the influence of that drug a moment longer. But if Warrehn was cured too, it would all be for nothing and they would be unlikely to get another opportunity to drug him. Warrehn would be extra vigilant from now on.
The doctor grimaced. “In a manner of speaking. His Majesty and His Highness must allow the drug to run its course and do what they must.”
Dalatteya stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“They will have to indulge their impulses until the urge to… to fornicate passes.”
“That is—that’s preposterous! My son would never—” She cut herself off, glancing at her son’s glassy, hungry gaze on Warrehn. She sighed. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that they absolutely need to—to indulge their base urges for the substance to wear off.”
The doctor sighed. “That seems to be the only solution, my lady. I can’t perform miracles in such a short time. The substance simulates the mating behavior of the primates that enter a frenzied mating season as soon as they imprint. Usually, the mating season of those primates ends with a successful pregnancy, which obviously isn’t possible here, but Calluvian physiology is different enough for the drug to work a little differently. At least that’s my hope.”
“Hope?” Dalatteya repeated incredulously.
The doctor flushed. “I’m very sorry, my lady, but it’s very hard to predict how our physiology would react to an alien substance. There is no documented case of Calluvians ever being drugged with that drug. It’s all guesswork based on rumors and the experiences of the species that have similar biology to ours. But similar isn’t the same.”
At that moment, Samir strained against his restraints hard, keening pitifully when they didn’t give. Warrehn growled in response, yanking at his own restraints. Hungry blue eyes with blown pupils were watching Samir’s every move. Samir was returning the look, licking his lips and staring greedily at the very obvious bulge in Warrehn’s pants.
It was utterly revolting.
“I think it’d be best if we leave them alone, my lady. My scanners detect a worrying jump in their blood pressure—”
“You can’t be serious,” Dalatteya said sharply.
“My lady, I understand that you’re upset, but I’m afraid we have no other choice. Everything I know about such cases indicates that it’s dangerous for their lives to leave them unfulfilled for long. Their vitals are alarming already.”
Dalatteya glared at the doctor. Rationally, she understood that he might be correct—but everything in her rebelled at the idea of allowing Emyr’s spawn to put his hands on her son.
Samir made another desperate sound, tears of frustration falling down his cheeks as he unsuccessfully surged toward Warrehn again.
Dalatteya pursed her lips, torn. She wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t. But she hated seeing her son suffer. Absolutely couldn’t stand it. And she wouldn’t allow Emyr’s spawn—Emyr—to be the reason her son got hurt.
“Fine,” she said tersely and strode out of the room. If she didn’t see it, she could pretend it wasn’t happening.
And that it wasn’t her fault.
Chapter 9
Samir was on fire—at least it felt like it. He felt overheated, too big for his own skin. He wanted to be mounted. He wanted a cock in him. He stared at the appealingly big bulge at his mate’s crotch, imagining a thick, long cock under that fabric, imagining pulling it out and taking it inside his body. The image nearly made him dizzy with sheer want, and he whined, needing it.
A part of him, a very distant part, could feel that there was something wrong with his thoughts. But he seemed unable to think of anything but being bred—and the virile male watching him with hungry eyes. His mate. (Mate? He didn’t have a mate.)