Page 26 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
I’m starting to suspect this naga prince has a fetish for pain as I ball up my fist in anticipation of striking him. At least, I should be. So why are my eyes starting to flutter shut, leaning up, lifting my chin, waiting for our lips to connect? I know there’s no logical reason to be doing this when I should be sucker punching him again. I blame it on my baser desires, my body moving of its own volition.
Even though the truth still hurts me, I can’t deny how much I want him anymore. That storage closet was seven minutes of hell on my resolve not to jump his scales. But now, what do I have to lose? There’s no future with a future king anyway. Why not throw caution to the wind and push down my overwhelming sense of betrayal for a taste of him? Just a taste; I could fantasize for a lifetime over one night.
Betrayal? There I go being dramatic again. What right do I have to feel betrayed? None. And yet I do. And despite that, I don’t care anymore because I want to feel his lips on mine. This dam of sexual tension must break. I need to kiss the naga prince who’s bound to me, so he can burrow deep inside, right where he belongs. I need to replace the vision of him from my dreams with the real thing. I need Ranbir to mark me…
What? Mark? What is he now, a werewolf? I’m delusional as hell, and have been reading way too much omegaverse Y/N fanfic lately,I think, attempting to close the distance between our lips.
“Dimitri,” a rugged voice laced with annoyance, speaks behind Ranbir.
I go rigid. Ranbir relaxes and grabs my hips like we’re really going at it. Our lips hover dangerously close to each other as we both listen in.
“The gala will be over soon. Patience,” a new voice rumbles with a Greek accent. “We’ll retrieve the package afterward. You know I must mingle with the elite of Princedelphia first.”
Retrieve the package? Oh shit, are we overhearing some criminal deal?
My eyes flick up to Ranbir’s, which confirms my suspicions as his brows knit and his gaze heats with hatred.
“Fine,” the stranger spits, an audible hiss filling the air.
Wait, hiss? And that voice… That tone… Could it be his friend, the naga’s whose name escapes me? His face is a blur inside myhead, but I remember he was with Dimitri, that hissing, pissy, bastard. I move to warn Ranbir, but he’s pulling me closer before I can speak. And he’s hissing super softly. I must’ve mistaken him for his evil twin. Or, no, it’s–
“We have to move,” Ranbir whispers so faintly that I shudder from the feather-like caress of his words on my trembling lips.
I give the faintest of nods back as the criminal duo passes by, a low whistle and a chuckle letting me know our “lovers hiding away to tongue each other down” act is working well.
As soon as they’re far enough away, Ranbir pulls back, grabs my elbow, and dashes across the red carpet to a door that looks suspiciously like a storage closet. On closer inspection, reading a plaque nearby, I notice that it’s a much larger supply room, so thankfully, not round two of being squished to death by a wall of abs while I freak out.
Ranbir reaches into the pocket of his billowing pants and pulls out a key. I suppress a snort, wondering if Ranbir is working security tonight and chose to stunt on me just because. Well, Naveen did, but does it matter who said what, seeing as they both made me feel like shit?
“Hurry,” I grunt as footsteps circle back towards us. “I think they’re coming back our way.”
“I know. Be silent,” Ranbir says harshly, and if it were any other night, I’d shove him in his ribs. “Trust me.”
The door unlatches just as the faint whispers become audible again. And if those two are within earshot, we’re about to look very suspicious in their range of sight. Ranbir moves to conceal us in the supply room from the shady businessman and his accomplice, but he hesitates, searching my eyes for confirmation.
“I have the key. We won’t be trapped,” he says, and I blink up at him in confusion until it dawns on me why he’s waiting for me to enter, rather than tugging me in.
He’s worried about my mental state, seeing as the last time we locked ourselves in a storage room, I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. There isn’t enough time to explain the precise triggers that activate the vulnerable hyperventilating mess of a man I will become during those circumstances. Still, I’m touched that he considered that while we’re in danger of losing our lives.
“Let’s go. I’ll be okay,” I assure him, and Ranbir gives a curt nod as he squeezes my hand.
We slip inside what can only be described as an overflow room rather than a standard storage room. It’s big enough for us to move around, backflip, and set up a bed. I sigh in relief. That’s until Ranbir clamps my mouth shut and shoves us both against the door. I tremble all over, the tips of his claws grazing my skin ever so softly.
“Hey,” I whisper, panting heavily, the criminals’ conversation waning into a wordless rumbling beyond the thick door. “Can you get Ranbir, Jr., and Ranbir II off my back and ass? I can’t focus.”
“Silence!” he hisses sharply, and my nipples pebble, maybe from rolling against the cold door, or probably because of the gruff rumble of his voice vibrating through my body.
I wriggle unconsciously as something that can only be described as scales glide between my legs. He’s transforming, losing control of his magic, which can’t be good. However, they do feel divine rubbing against my ass and thighs. I want to crack the door open, maybe even swing it open and rush the bastards so I can release myself from this sweet torture. But I don’t. I don’t need Ranbir scolding me to know I’d be knocked out or much worse.
So I sit still, lifted slightly by his tail, not listening since I can’t hear shit, and wait. I wait some more, wait until I think I’ll explode with anticipation, until Ranbir’s body slackens. Themenacing voices drift away down the corridor. But not so far away that they’re gone for good.
“They’re planning something at Tartarus. Does that ring a bell to you?” Ranbir asks, and I jolt out of my blissful haze. “You catered Dimitri’s party, didn’t you? Did he mention Tartarus?”
“Your spy intel must suck. It’s a club,” I say. “A famous nightclub that usually has artwork hanging up. I assume now it’s stolen goods.”
“I see,” he says vaguely.
I wait for Ranbir to release me, but he doesn’t, panting against my ear. We’re impossibly close, shoved against the door, and I wonder what will break first: my ear straining for a morsel of information, wondering if they’re still out there, or my dick wedged between the wood?
