Page 34 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
“Um, I think I’m done with twenty questions for tonight,” he says.
“Please?” I huff.
“...” he pretends to sleep.
“Must I beg?” I ask.
“Why is it important?” he asks.
“Because I want to help,” I say, annoyed by our back and forth.
“Why?” he asks after a brief pause.
I massage his neck with my left upper hand, using the bottom set to massage his back, sighing as Mateo uncoils all the tension he’s pent up in his body. I run my hands all over him, including his hair, purposely avoiding his plush ass.
“Because I do. We’re partners now. I don’t want you to end up back on the streets if I can provide shelter for you,” I say, more or less the truth. Now that I know we’re mates, he won’t end up back on any street corner, parked in a car for protection.
“Just bad luck. Ran away as a teenager. Bills piled up. Tried roommates. Didn’t work. Tried ex-boyfriends. Really didn’t fucking work,” he says in clipped, guarded sentences. “Choose my car. I was going to live with Cy, but now he’s shacked up with a guy he met like yesterday, so now I’m here. In your arms. Safe. Does that answer your question?”
“Noted,” I say, jaw ticking at the thought of any ex trying to take him in. I would behead any other man who touched him from now on, but Mateo didn’t need to know that right now. Baby steps. We just got on speaking and fucking terms.
“So you will need permanent accommodations?” I ask, and he nods into my chest, refusing to look at me.
“Alright. Tomorrow, I’ll ask my guards to swap rooms. I doubt Layla cares who stays in which accommodations as long as we runaway princes uphold our end of the bargain.”
Mateo’s breath hitches, and after holding it for too long to be comfortable, it comes out as a gush of… Relief? I think. I assume. But the way his shoulders fold in confuses me. That’s usually a sign that he’s sad or scared.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Will… you sleep with them?” he asks, and my mind goes blank as I blink rapidly, before he adds, “In the new room?”
Ah,I think,remember, Ranbir. Think with your bigger head.
“I assumed we’d sleep together. I mean, in the same room. In two beds,” I say, my command of the English language free-falling from my grasp. “Why?”
“I don’t know, just the whole international crime ring that may or may not have enlisted my parents to steal rare art that ended up getting them killed. And the whole I’m the fucking crown prince of the Thar Desert Kingdom is kind of getting to me, and I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts,” he says, shaking softly.
“Former,” I remind him.
“Not helping, Ranbir,” he says, reaching down to pinch my exposed stomach where my torso merges with my tail. “It’s just better if you’re with me, is what I’m saying. Physically. As in fighting, I mean. You’re the one with four arms and a big ass tail. I may be pretty good at sneaking around, but I’m no spy. And the reality of this partnership is starting to hit me hard.”
“So you need me to protect you?” I tease, though that’s a given.
“I knew you’d say that. Never mind. Sleep with Rohan and Kunal,” he grumbles, and I laugh.
How many years has it been since I’ve laughed so freely, especially in my lover’s arms? So many of them had been hookups or a means to an end, for them, to one day ascend to the throne. But this feels different, real, raw. I coil tighter around Mateo’s body, hoping against hope that fate can overcome my cold-blooded nature and the fortress he’s erected around his heart.
“They like to have their private time. I think they’d prefer we didn’t share a room. I will sleep with you. I’ll protect you… Mateo?”
I shake his shoulder, pausing my full body massage. Mateo’s breathing evens out, and he doesn’t budge. He’s out like a candlelight snuffed out. Oh well. At least I get to hold him through the night.
I want to cling to the sight of him for a bit longer, to soak in the warmth of his skin pouring into my scales. It ignites something raw and honest within my weary bones: the need to protect, the desire to pin him down, and the guilt for wanting anything more than our partnership.
By the time sleep robs me of my senses, I’m grateful. My mind, heart, and soul are a tempest of intertwined emotions all at war with what should be my only goal.
I should only have room for revenge. So why do I crave another taste of Mateo’s mocha-scented skin? Why do I fantasize more about closing the gap between our parted lips more than having my enemy’s head?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
