Page 19 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
I scoff, but Mateo is deadly serious. I roll my eyes, more amused than annoyed with this infuriating man for the first time in weeks. If I had the power to read minds, what makes him think I’d allow our little feud and misunderstanding to fester all this time? But instead of throwing a verbal jab, I opt for a delicate, conciliatory tone. I muster up every ounce of princely charm inherited from my bloodline and force a smile.
“No, I can’t. I was just concerned,” I say, but don’t get the response I expect from him.
“Well, it’s rude to comment on somebody’s body, fat or skinny,” he croons.
My upper lip twitches, “I only meant to address my concern, not offend you. I’ll make a mental note not to ask again.”
Mateo’s frown deepens into a scowl, “Stop that.”
He demurs, trying to pull away from me. I let go just long enough to punch the bridge of my nose with my left hand.
“Stop what?” I ask, tone clipped, shifting my hips so my hardening cocks don’t brush against him. Unlike Mateo, I can at least pretend to be sane and civil when it counts.
“Stop the crazy man smile. It’s freaking me out. Anyone ever tell you flashing your fangs is seen as a threat to humans?” he says, squirming again.
My fangs? No way!I think, but sure enough, they’re pressing against my bottom lip.
I’m convinced I’ve regressed to the mental capacity of a hatchling. It’s ridiculous! I retract my fangs and turn my face away from Mateo, embarrassed beyond belief. He narrows his eyes at me, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze on my blushing cheeks despite trying to ignore it. I’m thankful Mateo doesn’t know the first thing about my race, or he’d know that fangs aren’t a threat. They’re a sign off…
Stop thinking about that before more blood rushes to the wrong place, Ranbir!
“Thanks for hiding those things. And to answer your question, I have been. Have a problem with it? You seem to love drinking our coffee every day, too,” Mateo gripes, blissfully releasing me from coming to terms with what he’d seen.
I don’t respond, and Mateo makes a choking sound. I turn back to face my barista, amazed to see and feel his body trembling again. I reach up and tentatively stroke his upper back. It’s as if he realized where we were once again the second we stopped arguing. Being trapped in a closet with Mateo is the last thing I expected to happen tonight.
“Relax,” I murmur, confused by the spiking fear he exudes. His pores drip with it, the salty, rancid scent burning the tip of my tongue as it flicks.
I wedge one of my hands between our chests, holding it over my heart, and I direct Mateo to breathe through his nose, still squeezing his hips, “Close your eyes. Center your mind. Andbreathe,Mateo, breathe.”
Mateo closes his eyes, presumably centers his mind, and takes a deep breath, gradually pulling away from his hysteria to a semblance of relief. But it’s slow going, and for a while, I think he’ll lose the war against his anxiety until all at once the dam breaks, the battle shifts, and he reins his demons in. When he looks at me again, his expression is soft, hesitant, and open to not arguing for the first time in weeks.
I sigh, still rubbing his back. Being stuck in a storage closet certainly isn’t how I wanted to spend alone time with him, but it will do for now. It’s a start, and anything is better than whatever the hell we have been doing for over a month.
Mateo closes his eyes, breathing through his nose for a while. When he opens his magnificently big brown eyes, Mateo whispers, “Please open the door.”
His voice is calm and steady, but the way he clutches my arms gives his spiking panic away.
“I can’t,” I whisper back, feeling like absolute shit that I can’t fulfill his request when his face crumbles.
“W-Why not? You’re security!?” he murmurs, and I groan as he leans in closer, our bodies plastered together once more.
“I have keys to the hotel, not the cafe. You should have keys as a cafe manager,” I remind him, and Mateo visibly sags under the weight of my words.
Mateo hangs his head, forehead pressed to my chest, and sighs in defeat: “And they’re in my jacket, along with my phone. So what should we do? Do you have yours?”
“I do, but it’s dead. I left it off the charger when I passed out last night,” I say, reaching down to pull it out of my pocket to show him proof, and Mateo looks like he’ll cry.
Why does my heart break at the sight?
“What should we do?” he repeats.
I frown, “We wait for rescue, as absurd as that sounds, because what other choice do we have? I’m sure we can alert the night staff soon. It hasn’t been all that long.”
“You can’t break down the door?” Mateo asks, the hope in his tone devastating. He’s not listening to me.
“I’m not human, not some version of a superhuman. I mean, maybe I could, if I could transform. But I can’t use my tail as a spring in such a tight space anyway. And even then, well…” I trail off as he buries his face in my chest and falls mute.
We stand like that for a while, and I feel like shit because all I want to do is cup his ass, lift him up, and lick away Mateo’s budding tears. I haven’t found the balls to apologize properly, and now I want to take advantage of his vulnerability. I’m becoming a real piece of shit these days.
