And now… no matter what he told himself, the fact was, he burned to fuck the son of his family’s murderer—and he’d fucked him already, several times, and burned to do it again. It was infuriating, the knowledge that he wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull—that Dalatteya had once again outplayed him, whatever her game was.
The question was, had Samir known of her plans? Warrehn hadn’t been able to sense dishonesty when he’d briefly read Samir’s surface thoughts. Samir had seemed as surprised by the air-poisoning as he had been. It didn’t necessarily mean he was unaware of his mother’s plans, but Warrehn didn’t dare delve deeper into his mind because of how compatible their minds were. He didn’t want to be influenced by their natural compatibility.
It was bad enough that the drug was already affecting his judgment somewhat. Although Rohan’s suggestion that Dalatteya might be expecting him to fall for her son was laughable, it was true that he didn’t hate Samir as much as he hated his mother. Whether it was the drug’s influence or not, he didn’t know. He was frustrated and angered by the situation and behaved like a toxic ass around Samir, but it wasn’t true hatred. He hated Dalatteya. His feelings for her son were far more complex.
It didn’t help that Samir looked like a fucking fairytale prince: luscious violet hair, deep blue eyes, milky skin, and pretty pink lips. He was all grace and poise, making Warrehn feel like a rough, uncivilized oaf next to him. Samir was drop-dead gorgeous. Even before the drug debacle, Warrehn had had a few fleeting fantasies of forcing Samir to his knees in the throne room and making him suck his cock in front of Dalatteya and the entire court.
The cock in question throbbed, and Warrehn hissed in frustration.
Damn it.
Picking up his communicator, he found Samir’s number in the royal database and pressed Connect.
“It’s been two hours,” Warrehn said when Samir answered.
“Yes,” Samir said. He sounded a little wary—and a little breathless.
“The drug is clearly wearing off, but not fast enough. We should test how long we can go before giving in.”
“We?”
Warrehn sighed. “Yes. The publicity tour can’t be canceled, so we need to work together, for the time being, and figure out our limits. We’ll coordinate our comings and goings until the drug wears off.”
“All right,” Samir said, sounding a little stunned.
Warrehn almost smiled. People mistakenly thought he wasn’t capable of being rational, but he was very much capable of it—when it suited him. If he didn’t approach this situation rationally, he knew he would fucking explode from sheer frustration.
“This is what we will do,” Warrehn said. “You will message me every half an hour and report on how you’re doing. If your—condition gets unbearable, you will tell me. I’ll do the same. The trick is to find our limits without pushing them. I don’t want to touch you more often than I have to.”
“I assure you the sentiment is entirely mutual,” Samir said sharply.
“Good,” Warrehn said, throwing another pebble into the lake. It sank immediately—too much force. “So we understand each other. I expect a message every half an hour.”
He hung up, glanced down at the tent in his pants, and grimaced. To say he wasn’t looking forward to finding out his limits was putting it mildly.
The first message came exactly half an hour later.
It’s still bearable.
Warrehn wasn’t sure he agreed. But he typed, Same.
The second message was the same.
Warrehn was absolutely lying as he replied that he was similarly fine. He wasn’t. His concentration was completely shot, his hands trembling so badly he had to ball them into fists.
But he refused to be the one to give in first.
Thankfully, Samir’s next message came much sooner. I can’t stand it anymore. Come to my room.
Warrehn had never moved so fast. He covered the distance to the palace in record time and strode past the startled servants and robots. He had no idea if anyone witnessed him entering Samir’s rooms—and truth be told, he didn’t care.
Samir was on his bed, his weight on his elbows and knees, his beautiful ass in the air. The small, pink hole between those round, creamy cheeks made Warrehn’s mouth water. He felt like an animal seeing a fertile bitch in heat. The urge to breed him was overwhelming, even though rationally he knew it was impossible.
“Just do it,” Samir whispered hoarsely into the mattress, without looking at him. “Fill me up.”
And Warrehn did.
Chapter 12
They departed for the publicity tour early in the morning.
Samir wasn’t used to traveling in land vehicles. It was a little too old-fashioned for his tastes. But he had to admit the vintage car Warrehn’s people had chosen was very impressive and comfortable. It was pretty big, with lots of space and everything they needed: a dining area equipped with a teleporting service—they could order anything and the meal would be delivered to them—two beds, a bathroom with a sonic shower, and a small living room area. The car was soundproof and the windows were one-way, giving them privacy—a much-needed feature, considering what they were up to.