23 Chapter (1)

He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up feeling so well rested and good.

Jamil opened his eyes, blinking blearily. He was lying on his side, and there was a tattooed arm slung over his waist.

Jamil stared at the brown, sun-kissed hand on his pale stomach—his shirt had apparently ridden up—and he wondered what was wrong with him. He should have been freaking out. He should have felt ashamed, dirty, and wrong. He had no business feeling so good andfortable in the arms of a man who wasn’t his husband.

Strangely, he couldn’t summon those feelings.

Everything felt… right: the rise and fall of Rohan’s firm chest against his back, the warmth of his breath against Jamil’s nape, the heaviness of his arm, the low hum of Rohan’s sleeping mind.

Jamil’s gaze fell on the portrait that hung on the opposite wall, a portrait of him and Mehmer on their wedding day. It was drawn by one of the most talented modern artists in the galaxy, and the resemblance was uncanny. The artist had captured perfectly Mehmer’s golden hair, golden skin, and laughing hazel eyes.

Jamil stared at the portrait, searching his feelings. He finally felt ashamed—ashamed that this still didn’t feel wrong.

Behind him, Rohan mumbled something sleepily and pulled him tighter to him.

Jamil swallowed, feeling the unmistakable bulge pressed against his lower back. It was just a morning erection. He had one, too. It didn’t mean anything. What happened last night was… tension relief, nothing more. They had barely touched each other when they brought themselves off. It had been a one-time thing and it would never happen again.

Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Jamil tried to move the hand on his stomach away without waking Rohan up, but Rohan mumbled something and just moved his hand up to fondle his pec as if it were a woman’s breast.

Jamil flushed. Rohan was likely dreaming of being in bed with some woman. He’d gotten the impression that Rohan di’Lehr had slept with a lot of women.

Never men.

Jamil pursed his lips. The thought should have beenforting, but something about it bothered him.

Jamil’s brows furrowed. He had to admit it was… strange for him to be considered unattractive. His physical appearance had always attracted a lot of attention from intergalactic celebrities and politicians that visited Calluvia. Mehmer had always found it amusing—he had actually liked being the subject of envious looks. “They can stare and drool all they want; I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” Jamil hadn’t shared his husband’s amusement. He’d always thought being regarded as a piece of meat was demeaning, especially since most of those off-worlders had no mental shields and Jamil had to smile at them and pretend he had no idea what vile thoughts about his mouth or ass they were entertaining.

But as much as Jamil didn’t like it, he was used to it. He was used to being regarded as desirable. Did that make him vain? Maybe. Regardless, it was strange for him that Rohan didn’t find him attractive at all. Not that he wanted Rohan to be attracted to him. It was just strange. That was all.

“If it makes you feel better, you’re the most eous man I’ve ever seen,” a sleepy voice said with a chuckle. “The fairest of them all.”

Jamil’s face burned. “Stop eavesdropping on my thoughts.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Rohan said, nuzzling into his nape. “They were very loud.”

“I thought the merge broke while we slept.”

“It did,” Rohan confirmed, yawning and showing no inclination to move. “But it looks like we’re more attuned to each other now. Not exactly surprising after such a deep merge.”

Frowning, Jamil tried to reinforce his shields. He also tried to make himself pull away from Rohan’s embrace. He failed on both counts. His limbs refused to listen to hismands, and his mind felt… different. Brighter. Calmer. Warmer.

It took him a few moments to realize what was different. There was a very thin golden thread wrapped around his core, just above his torn bond to Mehmer, so thin he could barely feel it.

“What is this?” Jamil said, his heart beating faster.

“Hmm?”

Jamil nudged him mentally toward the golden thread. “This!”

He felt Rohan freeze, his body going rigid against him.

And then Rohan cursed so elaborately it would have made Jamil blush had he not been so worried. Rohan sprang away from him as though burned and rolled off the bed.

Jamil sat up and watched him pace the room agitatedly.

“It’s a bond,” Rohan said at last, his jaw working. Gone was the teasing, infuriatingly unflappable man Jamil hade to know. He was beginning to realize he’d never seen Rohan truly angry. He was angry now. Rohan’s mouth was a thin straight line and a vein throbbed in his temple. Rohan glared at him, raking a hand through his short hair, anger rolling off him in thick, suffocating waves.

“Why are you looking at me like it’s my fault?”

Rohan chuckled harshly, turning away. “How are you so calm about this?”

Jamil shrugged, sitting up. “I’m not calm. But I don’t understand why you’re so angry. I’m sure this… idental bond will break in no time or you will break it yourself. It’s very thin, nothing like my bond to Mehmer was.”

Although Rohan didn’t disagree with him aloud, Jamil could still feel his agitation.

“I need to get into Dalatteya’s palace as soon as possible,” Rohan said in a clipped voice. “And then I’ll be out of your hair, Your Highness.”

Jamil flinched. He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling chilly. “All right,” he said after a moment. “I have an idea—it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few days, actually.”

“What idea?” Rohan said, without looking at him.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like it when Rohan didn’t look at him.

Jamil frowned, more than a little disturbed by his own thoughts. “A few days ago, Dalatteya sent me the old reports on her nephews’ kidnapping.”

Rohan’s broad shoulders tensed. “And?”

“ording to those reports, her nephews were attacked by the rebels within one tarsec of where Mehmer was killed,” Jamil said, watching Rohan carefully. “What a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Slowly, Rohan turned around. “Where are you going with this?”

Jamil cocked his head to the side, perversely enjoying the way Rohan’s eyes immediately went to his neck—to the hickeys on his telepathic point. Regardless of his constant use of dermal regenerators, Jamil always seemed to end up with an assortment of old and new hickeys there. Rohan may not want him, but he was as helpless against their unnatural connection as Jamil was. It felt oddly satisfying to know that.

“I just find it curious that out of all possible places, the two princes of the Fifth Grand Clan and the prince-consort of the Third Grand Clan were supposedly attacked by the rebels within one tarsec from each other. The Kavalchi Mountains are thousands of tarsecs long. What are the odds?”

Something shifted across Rohan’s face. “What are you hinting at? You seem to have figured it all out. Let’s hear it.” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. His black eyes remained on Jamil, intense and prating.

Once again, Jamil was disturbed by how much he enjoyed it: having Rohan’s focus on him and him only.

Gods, this was getting out of hand.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “All I know is that you haven’t told me something. Something important. And you can’t expect me to help you if I don’t have all the information.” He was proud of how rational his voice sounded. His voice hadn’t betrayed that he felt stupidly hurt. It was ridiculous. Rohan was nothing to him. He’d known him for seventeen days. He shouldn’t be hurt by his lack of trust. It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal.

But it did.

“I already told you more than I should have,” Rohan said, his tone vaguely ufortable and annoyed. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“This!” Rohan gesticulated toward Jamil’s face, as if it personally offended him. “This hurt, sad kitten face you’re putting on. It makes me—it drives me crazy.”

Jamil’s eyebrows flew up. His first instinct was to say that he definitely wasn’t acting like a sad kitten, thank you very much, but then he paused as it urred to him what exactly it meant. They’d known each other for seventeen days. Just as Jamil shouldn’t feel hurt by Rohan’s lack of trust, Rohan shouldn’t be so affected by the fact that Jamil felt hurt. They both were reacting strangely to each other, acting like people who’d known each other for years instead of days.

It was odd.

Scratch that, it was pure madness.

“You said the intimacy people feel during a merge doesn’t affect the real life,” Jamil said faintly.

Rohan’s shoulders tensed up. He didn’t even need to ask what he meant.

Heavens, they really had a problem.

Sighing, Rohan sat down beside him. “It shouldn’t. It doesn’t normally.”

“Well,” Jamil said dryly. “Clearly there’s nothing normal about this.”

They were silent for a long while, not looking at each other.

Jamil chuckled, looking at his own hands. “This is so ridiculous,” he whispered. “I really want you to hold my hand.” He actually had to ball his fingers into fists to stop himself from reaching out.

Rohan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

“This is messed up.”

Rohan laughed, the sound sharp and hollow. “Putting it mildly.”

“Do you think it’s the bond?”

Rohan gave a shrug. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.” His lips twisted into a crooked smile as he shot Jamil a sideways look. “I don’t know everything, Jamil. This is new for me, too.”

Jamil found himself returning the smile helplessly.

Rohan stared at him. “You’re so ridiculously pretty,” he said before grimacing. “I used to wish you were a woman so that I could fuck this out of my system.”

Jamil wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or flattered. He settled on insulted. “Your assumption that I would have sex with you is unbelievably arrogant.”

Rohan smiled humorlessly. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. We both know we’d be fucking all day long if you were a woman.”

Jamil glared at him, his face hot.

Rohan shook his head. “Anyway, as I said, I used to wish that