Page 51 of Blinding Light

His chest tightened and his eyes burned. The thought seared his insides.

A vision blurred his surroundings. He saw himself, standing in Moargan’s guest room, charcoal pencils in his hand. He was wearing a white cape like the Imperial had on back in the spaceship, and he was drawing.

Stairs.

He heard someone crying, the sound followed by a carnal howl. Laughter and the sound of flesh being slashed open. More cries that turned into wheezing pleads.

Danger.

The word echoed through Cyprian’s mind, and he blinked in confusion at the intensity of the pain and desperation.

“Watch out!”

Arms on his shoulders yanked Cyprian back onto the footpath. He blinked, successfully erasing the invasion in his mind, eyes widening when he realized where he was.

“Are you okay?” A guy his age, his hand still on Cyprian’s forearm, asked. “You just started crossing the street.” As if to punch his words, a roaring hovercar passed by.

“I’m—” Cyprian shivered. He’d been completely out of it. “Thank you. I’m feeling much better.”

“Really?” The guy chuckled half-heartedly. “You don’t look fine.” Another once-over. “Hey, you go to the Academy, don’t you?”

Cyprian nodded. “You too?”

“Sure do. I’m a first-year tech student.” The other guy smiled now, cheeks adorned with dimples. “I saw you on screen. You’ve got quite the reputation. Listen, if you ever want to go out for a drink—just as friends—” He let out another smile.

“Sure.” Cyprian tucked a raven strand behind his ear. Did this guy want to be his friend? He’d never had those. Well, aside from Archer, that was. “That sounds nice.”

“Really?” The guy’s face lit up. “If you’re free, we could go over and grab a beer or something. There’s this place right on the corner?—”

“Get away from him.” An arm snaked around Cyprian’s waist, and he got pulled closer to a chest. “He’s taken.” Moargan smelled of spice and blood, and Cyprian inhaled through his nose, unwilling to admit how that made him feel.

Like home.

The guy’s eyes widened. “Imperial Moargan,” he stammered. “I apologize.”

“Your apology is not accepted. You are flirting with my Royal Consort.” Moargan nodded at one of the guards.

The fight was short and vicious. By the time Vandor opened the hovercar, the other student was already lying on the ground in a pool of blood, begging for the guards to keep his limbs.

Cyprian felt nauseous. “We were just talking!” Anger and pity swirled in the pit of his stomach, clenching his muscles. “Please. Don’t let them kill him.”

“I do as I please,” Moargan clipped. “Now, get in the car.”

Cyprian dug his heels into the ground, jaw locked. “No. You had that guy attacked for no reason.”

“I am the Imperial Prince; I don’t need a reason.” Moargan’s hold on Cyprian’s nape tightened. “Now, get in the car or I’ll make you.”

“No.”

Moargan let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s getting dark and you’re in a shit area when there’s a killer on the loose.” He pushed Cyprian inside the car. “And yes. I didn’t want that guy to flirt with you. Happy now?”

Those words loosened up some of Cyprian’s tenseness. He let himself be seated on the shiny, leather seats. “Were you jealous?”

Moargan bristled, but it was his silence that made the corner of Cyprian’s lips tick up. He had been jealous. And that did something to Cyprian’s insides.

Moargan urged for the car to leave. “So, this is what it’s going to be like? Me searching for you? Fuck knows where the next address will take you.”

“I wouldn’t have to roam the streets if I still had my data chip. Butyoutook it from me.” Cyprian clipped.

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