Page 8 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
After all, I am the crown prince of the Thar Desert Kingdom. One barista shouldn’t unsettle me so much, down to my core.
And yet, he is. I’ve never reacted like this to, well, anyone! I want him. There is no point in denying my baser instincts. But the timid little thing seems like he’d break in my arms. I can crush his chest with one set of arms. Why that excites me is beyond my comprehension right now. But it begs the question: how did he manage to sneak into the fortified citadel of Nagat undetected, steal the stone, and run away with my mother’s massive, prized portrait, when he looks barely strong enough to hold the coffee cups he serves?
Before I can stop myself, I slither up closer, pinning him so hard that Torres releases a whoosh of pent-up air. No, not slither. I have to remember I’m in my disguise. Istepcloser, shoving my thigh between his legs, though I want him pressed against my tail, preferably tangled and pinned to the ground. Torres is driving my predator instincts wild, sounding like whimpering prey. I feel downright insane.
“Name, human. I gave you mine, so tell me yours,” I say, needing anything to distract me, unable to recall it from his conversation with Sheena.
He blinks once, twice, and then his face twists, snarling as he shoots me a hideous glare.
“Mateo Torres, you fucking jerk! And since I’m the manager on duty for five more minutes, you need to leave the premises. I don’t know what type of snake mage or whatever you are, but you’re full of shit, and I don’t want to be entangled with you any longer.”
I chuckle after recovering from my stunned silence.Mateo.I taste his name, savor the feel of it, and grin. He has some fire inside of him. Good! Maybe it will make me feel a bit better tobreak his scrawny ass in– I meant, break him. Y-yeah. I gotta start thinking with my bigger head.
“Mateo Torres, of the infamous Torres criminal cockroaches?” I ask mockingly as his eyes narrow so much that he resembles a naga. “I see my hunch was correct. So I have caught a slippery little thief.”
I emphasize slippery little thief by digging my nails into his chest. He seizes my wrist and snarls louder at me.
Then, Mateo gasps as my sharp nails accidentally pierce him, sucking his teeth so sharply it could be mistaken for a hiss, “Get your fucking hands off of me before I call the police! I’m no thief. And you know what? Only a criminal would snoop around criminal business unless you’re the law. And the last time I checked, you were a nobody at this hotel, even in your fake ass uniform, Mr. Security Guard. Take it up with Layla and her wife, Sheena, if you have proof of me doing anything, but you don’t, do you, asshole?”
I flinch, knowing I’ll burn this damn uniform the first chance I get!
“It takes a thief to know one. So that’s why I’m asking you,” I counter, not understanding the childish bent of my tone.
And I have been acting like a petulant child when I should’ve seized him with my guards the second I knew it was him. Instead, I sent Rohan and Kunal away, like a fool, to start our rounds without me. I couldn’t have us all be late on the first night on the job.
Those big brown eyes, which I now recognized as topaz, a light brown ringed in green, narrow into venomous slits. Then, seconds later, a flash of brown lightning flashes through the air as his knuckles bash my lifted chin. I stumble back, trying to regain my balance to get into a fighting position. But by the time I do, he gut-punches me, sending me careening out of the alleyway.
I crash into a table on the patio, and a small crowd of night owls and, I assume, night shift baristas has gathered by the time I get my bearings straight. Oh, and of course, my friends are there who gape down at me and then up at Mateo Torres waltzing out of the alleyway undetected as everyone focuses on me.
My royal guards move to strike, but stop with my silent command, a sharp movement of me slicing my throat. The gathered guests and baristas shuffle around awkwardly, unsure whether they should help or gawk. It takes me a second to realize it looks like I tripped on my own two feet and fell like some drunk.
I hear as much as a man who sounds like the old cowboy movies I used to watch as a kid to practice an “American accent,” whispers between sips of his drink: “I know their coffee hits the spot, but not that damn hard! He drunk or what?”
“Sir?” a sing-song voice calls from above as I spin around on the ground.
Mateo offers me a helping hand with a sugary sweet fake smile he had worn all day at the cafe. Though this one is more like a smirk as I glare up at him: “Do you need help, sir? I’m so sorry that you fell–”
I smack his hand from my face, get up, and stomp away, defeated for now. My tongue dabs at the wound on my busted lip. I sneer as the taste of coffee and whipped cream lingers on my lips, determined to teach Mateo Torres, thief extraordinaire, a lesson he’ll never forget the next time we meet.
CHAPTER FIVE
MATEO
Screw. That. Asshole!
That’s been my mantra for two solid weeks as that bastard torments me every shift, never stopping in for long, but knowing just how to ruin my already awful mood each day.
It’s already Friday, and I anticipate seeing his smug mug again right before the weekend. No, more like I’m dreading it. I wish I could say after work I’d get some relief, but no, after work will somehow be worse.
I’ve been kicked off my ex’s couch after refusing to sleep with him last night, and I don’t want to try a roommate again. Last time I tried with Cy, let’s just say it went horribly, despite our chemistry anywhere without a bedroom. So my car is my refuge, bed, and transportation until I figure something out tonight, which makes me even more grumpy and irritable as I get ready for my shift inside of it.
If the local gym ever closes, I might just pack up and start driving until I run out of gas. The cheap membership keeps me groomed and confident when I should be anything but.
The introduction of Ranbir into my life couldn’t have been at a worse time. Dealing with his near omnipresence means I can’t get into the sneaky shit I need to do, without the fear of him reporting me to Sheena or Layla.
How would I explain hanging around criminals and being spotted by security? Not that I intended to just invite them onto the property like a dumbass trying to get caught. But every time I’m in town, I feel like I’m being…
Watched.
