Jamil refused to think about why it could be weakened.
Guilt filled his chest as his gaze landed on the small portrait of Mehmer on his desk. He’d barely thought about Mehmer over the past few days.
Jamil picked up the portrait and stared at his husband’s dear face, grief washing over him.
Somewhat relieved, he set the portrait down. He still loved his husband. He hadn’t betrayed him. His perverse mental compatibility with Rohan di’Lehr had changed nothing. He didn’t have to think about Mehmer all the time to love him—that would be obsession, not love.
So you admit you’re obsessed with Rohan?
Scowling, Jamil pushed the thought away. He needed to come up with a good reason to go to the Fifth Royal Palace. The sooner he got to the bottom of it, the sooner he would be rid of Rohan’s invasive presence in his life—which was what he wanted.
It was.
Chapter 10
Rohan jumped off the zywern’s back, enabled its gravitational bindings again, and headed back to the palace.
He had hoped a ride would clear his head and help him get rid of the maddening tension building under his skin, but judging by the fact that he still itched to go to the Crown Prince and get back inside him, it hadn’t exactly worked.
Rohan heaved a frustrated sigh, at his wits’ end. He had been Jamil’s “manservant” for six days already and he had spent them avoiding the prince instead of actually working with him to accomplish what he was there for. When he wasn’t avoiding the prince, he was too high on their mental connection to want to do anything productive. As things stood, he was never going to learn anything substantial.
Fuck, maybe he should just break into the Fifth Royal Palace, caution be damned. But as Jamil had said, Dalatteya’s security measures were bordering on paranoid, with three different people doing background checks, cameras everywhere and most servants being droids.
It was almost as though she had something to hide.
Rohan’s lips curled at the thought. The woman was smart and cautious; he would give her that. But then again, she knew better than anyone that treachery could come from even the most innocuous sources.
No, trying to get into Dalatteya’s palace on his own would be suicidal. He needed Jamil’s help if he hoped to get close enough to the woman.
If only he could figure out how to be around Jamil without getting… sidetracked.
Rohan stopped, realizing where his feet had brought him. He was in front of Jamil’s private chambers once again.
Rohan clenched his jaw, looking at the door in frustration. His muscles were tense and there was a low hum of arousal under his skin—arousal that made no sense. He wasn’t into men. That didn’t change, no matter how much he liked looking at the prince’s pretty face. But Rohan’s body seemed to confuse the tension, the pent-up need with a sexual one, which was wrong on so many levels Rohan wanted to laugh. He didn’t want to fuck the prince. Jamil was as far from his type as it got. He liked them blonde, petite, and curvy. Muscular, dark-haired men as tall as himself did nothing for him. Except it seemed he couldn’t tell right from left when he was inside the prince’s sweet, beautiful mind, and his cock got a little confused.
The door suddenly opened and he was greeted by the sight of Jamil in his white, silky nightwear. “Are you going to stand there all night?” the prince said tersely, his green eyes blazing fire. “Your thoughts are loud.”
That was another thing—another pretty damn creepy thing. The more time passed, the more attuned to each other they seemed to become. Rohan had his shields fully up. The prince shouldn’t have been able to sense him at all, much less get a glimpse of his thoughts.
“You didn’t have to open the door,” Rohan said, shouldering past Jamil and walking toward the window.
The door slid shut.
Silence fell over the room, filling his senses with tension the likes of which he’d never felt in his life.
His cock strained his pants.
Rohan gritted his teeth, looking out the window. The night was moonless so there was nothing of interest, but he stared at the night scenery as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. As if his cock wasn’t so hard he could pound nails with it. As if he couldn’t feel the prince’s need almost as acutely as his own.
“I could hardly have you standing outside my rooms,” Jamil said, his posh voice stiff, a little awkward. “What would the servants say?”
Rohan snorted. “For someone who cares so much about propriety, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about my cock in you.”
Silence.
“Get out,” Jamil said flatly.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I forgot we weren’t supposed to talk about it.”
“I said get out.”