She sighed. “I don’t think it is.”
Samir frowned and looked at her. “Why do you think so?”
Her expression a little tight, Dalatteya pushed the door to Samir’s bedroom open and entered it ahead of him. She waited patiently until he closed the door before she spoke again.
“I’ve just come back from talking to Uriel. Apparently, his supplier mislabeled several substances and sold Uriel the wrong one by mistake. The drug Uriel intended to purchase was basically just a strong aphrodisiac. I gave you an antidote for it, so you shouldn’t have been affected. I don’t know how the mix-up occurred—and frankly, it doesn’t matter now. There are more pressing concerns like the fact that the substance you were drugged with was overdosed. Normally a brief contact of one’s skin with the substance would be enough to be significantly affected, but you received at least ten times the recommended dose.”
Samir made a face. Just great. Fucking fantastic. “For crying out loud, Mother,” he said with a sigh. He had no words. The whole mess was entirely avoidable—and unnecessary. “Was that really necessary?”
His mother didn’t even have the grace to look guilty. “Don’t look at me that way. You left me with no choice. If you actually made an effort and helped me remove Emyr’s son from the picture, none of this would have happened!”
“Yes, it’s clearly my fault,” Samir said, very dryly. “What were you hoping to achieve by drugging Warrehn that way? It’s too damn suspicious.”
Dalatteya frowned, rubbing her forehead with one delicate finger. “It wouldn’t have been suspicious at all if the substances weren’t mixed up and you weren’t affected. The original drug I chose has a delayed activation and would have started working forty-two hours after Uriel poisoned the air in the breakfast room, and it’s impossible to detect in one’s blood after the first few hours. No one would have suspected anything when he attempted to assault you during the publicity tour. Attempted being the key word—not this! You would have been perfectly safe all the time.”
Samir found himself softening when he saw the genuine distress in his mother’s eyes. “I’m fine, Mother,” he said, more softly. “It’s just sex. Sex means nothing. I can endure it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, her throat working, her telepathic aura still emanating discomfort and distress. “I know you can endure it,” she said evenly. “You’re my son. You’re strong. You’ve survived worse. But I wish you never knew what it’s like to endure such a thing.”
Samir swallowed, not knowing what to say.
Before he could figure it out, his mother turned and left.
Chapter 10
Samir had always prided himself on possessing a strong will. He could work on a given task for days without giving in to the urge to sleep and rest, no matter how tedious the task was. He could ignore his physical needs and go long stretches of time without sex. So he had thought he could ignore this artificial need, too.
He had been wrong.
Samir’s thoughts started getting clouded barely an hour after his mother had left. He tried to ignore it at first, forcing himself to focus on the education reform he had been working on. Half an hour later, he had to set his datapad aside—he could no longer focus on the words, his mind foggy with inane thoughts and wants. He wanted to be filled. He wanted to be bred again. He still had enough of his mind present that his own thoughts disgusted him, but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking that. Couldn’t stop wanting that.
He wanted to be bred again. He felt like he fucking needed it, like he would die without it. He kept thinking of Warrehn’s cock, huge and red, the fat head glistening with lubricant.
Get a fucking grip.
He made it to two hours before he lost the battle with himself and got to his feet on his shaking legs. He left the room, barely seeing where he was going, searching for his mate’s telepathic presence. He had to stop several times to stroke his cock through the fabric of his trousers, whining softly in frustration. He ended up unfastening his fly and stroking himself desperately as he walked, vaguely registering that the servicing droids were stopping their work and staring at him in befuddlement. He didn’t care. He wanted his mate, his breeder. (He had no such thing, snap out of it, damn it!) He needed him.
Samir literally stumbled into him in some corridor in the west wing. They stared at each other for one long, charged moment, Warrehn’s expression a mix of fury and animal want.
“Damn you,” Warrehn ground out before slamming him against the wall and yanking Samir’s pants down.
He had him right there, in the middle of the corridor, hard and fast, like a mindless beast satisfying his base urges. He was rough, and it hurt quite a bit, the natural lubricant of Warrehn’s cock only doing so much considering his size, but the sting somehow made everything only sharper, hotter, better. Samir couldn’t get enough, groaning and pushing back, relishing how heavy and strong the male taking him was. Virile.