Page 132 of Blinding Light

“Why’s Kylix angry with him?”

He shrugged. “Who knows why Kylix feels the need to be angry? He’s an Imperial Prince, obnoxious, cocky and sexy as hell. Proud. And yesterday wasn’t the first time he entered a crime scene, only to find that someone beat his ass there, and the criminal was already frozen, presented in a package to him.”

Cyprian felt his chest swell with pride for his brother. “Well, I think it’s great.”

Aviel chuckled. “It is. Unless you have an ego like the Zephyranthis family has. Anyway, don’t worry your beautiful head over that now.” He finished the eggs. “I’ll be quick, we don’t want the grumpy cat to wake up with you gone.”

“Grumpy cat?” Cyprian smiled. “Is that what you call him?”

“Sometimes. Secretly.” Aviel winked. “Alright, sweetheart, tiganos, eggs, anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Cyprian’s mind was settling down. Licking the gem on his incisor, he thought of that foreign feeling yesterday, when it had reverberated withneed. It had made him growl, had made him lose control.

“Are you getting used to it?” Aviel was watching him with interest. “The gem?”

“I guess I am. Do you have any?”

“I do. Here.” He pointed to his jaw. “In the back of my mouth. You will have four, two in the front, two in the back.”

Cyprian let that piece of information settle in and grabbed the tray. “Thanks for breakfast.” In the door, he halted and turned over his shoulder. “One day you’ll tell me why you’re always cooking.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Aviel’s wicked chuckle followed Cyprian’s light footsteps back to the sleeping quarters.

Not Moargan’s.Theirs.

His Imperial Prince was still fast asleep when Cyprian got back in the room. Placing the tray on his bedside table, Cyprian climbed in bed and snuggled back in the protective grip of Moargan’s arm. Like this, wrapped up like a precious gift, Cyprian’s body zinged. His mind came to rest. Here he felt protected and cherished by another person. And not just another person. Cyprian glanced up, fingertips gliding over Moargan’s full, parted lips, sharp cheekbones, and straight nose. He slid up to his forehead and those perfectly arched eyebrows. The muss of blond strands looked like spun silk. His finger felt the slick, cold material of all those jewels that adorned Moargan’s ear. Brushing his lips over Moargan’s, he let out a hum. Moargan’s mouth was perfection. Firm, yet soft. Wet and warm. Moulded in a shape that accommodated him wholly.

His bonded. His fated mate. Created to belong together.

Cyprian thought of his home back in Tulniri. He thought of his ambitious foster parents who had kept their dark side so well hidden. Thought of what he had fled from.

Moargan stirred, arm clenching around Cyprian’s shoulder as he stretched those long, strong limbs. “Cyprian?”

“I’m here.”

“Hmm, what’s that smell?”

“Breakfast.”

“You got us breakfast? Fuck, yes.” Moargan hummed happily, dropped a kiss on Cyprian’s cheek, then left for the bathroom. When he returned, he held a golden bracelet in his hand. “This is for you.” He wiggled his own wrist. “I’ve got one too.”

Cyprian watched as he locked it around his skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” Moargan snatched half of Cyprian’s tigano out of his hand with his mouth, smiling and chewing when Cyprian yelped.

“You beast.”

“You love it.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” Moargan’s teeth came out and nipped on Cyprian’s bottom lip, tugging playfully before reaching his arm around Cyprian’s neck. He pulled Cyprian in, and they kissed, hot mouths brushed together.

“How can you be real?” Cyprian murmured between kisses.

“Only for you, lover.” Moargan took another piece of tigano and placed one corner in Cyprian’s, the other in his own. Biting and chewing, they finished the wrap until their mouths found each other again. Time passed as they lay there, reveling in feeding each other.

“You’re hot for me, lover, I can feel your hard cock against my thigh.” Moargan gave it a little squeeze, making Cyprian hiss. Desire tingled down his spine. “But I’ve got bad news for you. Remember our traditions?”

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