Page 10 of Trained Royal
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Patrick.” Kieren faced him. “I’ve vocalised what happened precisely three times in the years since it happened, and none eased the pain of it.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“Seventeen years ago, my family was killed in a plane crash.”
Patrick’s heart broke. He’d not expected that. How could anyone live with being the sole survivor of something like that? “How did you survive?”
Kieren scoffed. “I wasn’t on the plane, though I should’ve been.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
They drove in silence until Patrick stopped the car outside home. He put his hand on the handle, pausing when Kieren said, “I know you have a lot going on in your head. Although talking to a therapist didn’t help me, it might help you.”
Patrick stared at the steering wheel. How could he explain how he felt to someone else when he didn’t know himself? He nodded to show he’d heard and climbed out of the car. He was sure a therapist would have a field day with him.
****
“Keep your arms up,” Kieren called, stepping to the side as Patrick took a swipe at him. “You’re leaving your head undefended.”
Sweat dripped off Patrick’s forehead and into his eyes, momentarily blinding him, but he ignored it, focusing instead on where Kieren’s voice advertised he was. He punched with his left hand, grazing Kieren’s shoulder and, gaining the knowledge of his position, he swiped his right hand out, aiming for his jaw, but Kieren caught it in his hand and spun him until his back rested against Kieren’s heaving chest. His wrists were secured in Kieren’s grasp, his left arm between their bodies, his right arm across his stomach.
“Good. Using your other senses to figure out where I am.”
Patrick wanted to lean back into him and close his eyes, but he kept himself rigid, not knowing what his next move would be.
“Escape,” Kieren demanded.
Patrick quickly ran through his options and let his knees go weak, dropping to the floor and twisting to bring his hands to the front. As he fell, he yanked on his arms, bringing Kieren tumbling with him. When Kieren landed on top of him, unable to break his fall because he still had hold of Patrick’s wrists, the air shoved out of Patrick’s lungs, winding him.
“Fuck! I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
Patrick stared at how close Kieren was, and Kieren scrambled to rise, but Patrick gripped his shirt. As if he watched from afar, his hand cupped the back of Kieren’s head and pulled him closer as he lifted his own head to close the distance between them.
The moment their lips connected, Patrick moaned and opened his mouth, wanting to taste Kieren, but Kieren pulled back.
“Wait…”
Patrick opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them, and stared at him. Cold seeped into his body, and he trembled, pushing against Kieren so he could get up. Kieren’s body came to fully rest on his, his forearms bracing by his head. Kieren came close enough that Patrick could see different coloured flecks of blue in his irises.
“Wait,” he murmured.
Patrick’s breathing increased, not wanting to hear a story of how it was Kieren and not him. “Let me up,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“Patrick, look at me.”
Patrick shook his head, reacting like a teenager who didn’t want to accept his crush knew how he felt about him.
“Patrick.”
He squeezed his eyes tighter as heat flooded his cheeks. How could he have been so stupid?
A brush against his lips had his eyes flicking open, and Kieren stared down at him, the lines around his eyes tightening. They stayed staring for several long seconds or minutes, he had no idea, but the answering heat in Kieren’s eyes—and the bulge in his shorts—gave him the courage he needed. He slid his arms around Kieren’s waist, following the waistband, and let his fingers drift up and down his spine.
Kieren’s eyelids fluttered, but he kept his gaze on Patrick. “No going back,” he whispered.
Patrick smiled. “No going back.”
