Page 30 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
I swallow, now understanding the panicked tailspin the closet sent him into.
“I’ve always wanted to know why. But more than anything, I want to prove my parents didn’t steal that painting. I mean, how could a dead man or woman have stolen something that wastraded outside of the country before they were killed?” I say, and it makes sense.
“So they died, were killed…” I fall silent, furious yet not surprised. We operate with impunity and sometimes on bad intelligence. It wouldn’t be the first time an innocent or two was caught in the wreckage of my Father’s wrath.
Guilt eats at me, but Mateo bumps my shoulder with his fist, now fully dressed, “Don’t. You were what, a teen? I’m sure you didn’t order the assassins. We both got mixed up in awful shit that killed a parent. Let’s not fight each other anymore. Let’s fight them.”
His tone is so resolute, and I’m proud of him. Maybe we can win if I can be half the man he is right now.
“We share the same goal,” I say. We can make things right—as right as they can be, given the damage those thieves wrought.”
“What’s that?” Mateo asks.
“Restoring our clan’s honor,” I declare, voice shuddering at the thought of what that means for my mate’s safety.
My mate? Hah! I laugh bitterly. Mateo, my fated mate, doesn’t even know that he is. It’s yet another secret I must keep from him, when I promised never to lie to Mateo again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MATEO
“We’re going to restore our clan’s honor? Um, Ranbir, Prince Ranbir, I don’t have a clan, remember?” I say, suppressing a laugh.
He sounds like some stereotypical warrior from a cheesy fantasy novel. But Ranbir is as serious as a heart attack, which I’m on the verge of having as he steps closer, still naked, closing the gap between our bodies. A wall of stiff muscles boxes me against the door, and somehow, after mind-blowing sex, we’re back at square one—minus a few clothes.
“If we do this, we do this right.Together.You can’t face Kontos alone,” he says, but my mind and eyes wander down to his legs.
“Um…” I murmur, stunned.
When he lifts his eyebrow in question, I turn my face away and pretend not to notice that he transformed into a Ken doll down there. One moment, one flexing orange-red dick was ramming into me, while the other stroked my ass, and the next, he lookedlike a sexless toy. I don’t know what’s throwing me for a loop more, his missing dicks or how nonchalant he is about it.
But I refocus on the essential things as his patience wears thin. We haven’t known each other all that long, but I can tell his ticks like we’re an old married couple at this point with the amount of bickering we do. And that slight tick in his jaw is a tell-tale sign he’s plotting revenge against my chin, my eyes darting to his balled-up fist.
Man, I wish I were more of a cuddler. Sex-crazed Ranbir, while not patient, is a lot sweeter and relentless about finding pleasure rather than seeking to dish out pain.
“Together? Honor? What do you mean?” I ask, not quite grasping what honor has to do with throwing a murderous art thief in jail.
“Yes. You and I are after the same thing. We’re both after an object that, once returned, will return something intangible to our bloodlines. Our honor,” he says slowly, like I’m unable to understand what he means if he speaks at a normal pace.
“Can you speak commoner, my prince? I don’t understand what you just said,” I say through clenched teeth, ignoring the flutter of emotion in my stomach when his knuckles brush against my cheek.
Oh, so he was never planning on punching me. That’s good to know. But I almost wish he had just suckerpunched me, since that would be easier to handle. Now I have to wrestle with how gentle he’s being, and how it makes my stomach twist into knots.
My naga’s tongue flicks out, and his eyes pulse momentarily, but then he’s back to his carefully trained neutrality. I shiver as his knuckles run down my cheek and brush against my lips.
“Yessss,” he says, slurring the yes with a hiss. “Asyourprince, I’ll try to make you understand.”
Then he does something that steals my breath away. He smiles. I don’t have to resist the urge to jab him for makingfun of me. The urge doesn’t well up in me at all. Instead, to my horror, I want to reach up and stroke his chest– I-I-I meancheektoo, maybe even call him my prince again if it’s going to make himsmilelike that again.
It’s dazzling, his sparkling white, slightly elongated teeth making me clench my lips to hide my coffee-stained molars. Ever so briefly, dimples dot both of his cheeks, giving Ranbir a boyish, joyful expression compared to the sour, arrogant face I’ve grown accustomed to. Shit, that smile is almost better than watching him come undone when he came buckets inside of me.
No amount of internet research could’ve prepared me for how much a naga can come.
“I-I was joking, weirdo,” I whisper, not finding the courage to pull away from him, nor draw closer, frozen in his loose embrace. “I get it. We’ll work together to solve my parents’ murderandcatch the asshole who’s stolen from your clan for honor, or whatever.”
He smirks at that, and I instantly long for that grin. Just once would be enough to keep me high off the memory forever.
“Yes. We’re partners now,” Ranbir states, a sense of pride making his eyes shine. “Partners,” he repeats, reaching for my wrist, rubbing it almost lovingly.
