A Royal Craving (11 page)

He could not stop his instincts. Seeing his beautiful long neck, Prosper bit and began sucking luscious blood from his vein.

Spencer made the most delicious noises.

P
arry paced his room for an hour, knowing that he must talk to Prosper. The only way to cure his infatuation would be to get rid of Davian. He must be sent to work somewhere else; somewhere he would not be a constant reminder that Parry could feel.

He knew his brother would be busy with his new lover, so he could not speak to him tonight. For now, he must suffer alone, longing to have Davian on his bed with his teeth buried deep into his veins, sucking on his luscious blood.

His teeth hurt in desire.

Pacing did not help. He thought of his desperation to claim the servant, but he could not do that either. The lad continued to be too frightened and unsure.

Sucking up his pride, Parry lay on his bed, imagined his clothes disintegrated and took himself in hand. He closed his eyes, picturing Davian's hand around him.

“Master.” Davian spoke with a tenderness that had Parry reacting instinctively.

His uninterested cock stood to attention at the sound of that voice. He let out a sigh of relief and propped up on his elbows, to look toward the door.

Davian stood in the doorway, eyes on the floor. “The Mistress wishes to speak with you, when you are ready,” he explained, a flush to his cheeks.

When Davian turned to leave, he took his chance. “Stop!” he ordered.

He froze, challenging Parry by meeting his gaze.

“Come here,” the Prince asked, waiting until the servant moved to stand by the bed before patting the mattress. “Let me look at you,” he begged, smiling when Davian sat on the edge of the bed, facing him defiantly. They both knew what he wished, but neither would say it.

Parry moved his hand, using long satisfying strokes, as he watched Davian closely. A flush crept up the boy’s neck that intrigued him, but not once did the servant look away.

Their eyes met and Parry upped the pace, not caring for a long, drawn out affair. He had planned slow teasing movements, ghostly fingers and a long, sleep-inducing orgasm. But with Davian right there, he threw those plans away. Struggling to breathe, he came and watched the servant flush from his collarbone to the roots of his hair.

Parry imagined himself clean and fresh, for Davian's sake, then dressed in loose trousers and a shirt. He caught the servant's gaze lingering on the open collar, before pulling away reluctantly.

“Davian,” he whispered as he let his fingers walk up his bare forearm. “I am hungry. Could you avoid fainting long enough for me to feed?” he asked, watching his fingers dancing over the back of his hand.

Davian looked scared, his hand trembling as Parry slowly slid his fingers beneath his palm and wound their fingers together. He may never get closer to holding his hand than this moment; he craved that simple human contact.

Davian's eyes were wide and his heart pounded. He truly was terrified of being fed from.

Parry felt sorry for him; to be locked in a vampire house and scared of the sight of blood. He did it for his own good. He captured an index finger and lowered his head, never tearing his gaze from those frightened eyes as he closed his mouth around the fingertip.

Parry scraped his tooth against the skin, to cut it. And then panic set in; Davian gasped and tried frantically to pull away. He would injure the sweet boy, if he continued to fight.

He sucked the bead of blood and savoured the taste; rich, sweet and delicious. He wanted more, but had to be careful.

“Parry,” Davian gasped, looking caught between pleasure and confusion.

Parry licked the cut to seal it and released him. “You have done well, darling. Is there anything I may offer you, in return?” he asked, lying still so he did not frighten him. “Anything you wish,” he clarified.

Davian looked confused and dizzy, as he struggled to his feet. “Anything, Master?” he asked, uncertainly.

He nodded and waited to hear what he would ask for.

“May I keep my wish for another time?” he asked, slowly backing over to the end of the bed. He grasped the rounded post of the bed and held on, while watching him.

Curious as to when he would use his wish and why he was holding onto it, Parry nodded. “Of course,” he promised, then sat up and leaned over his knees. “You may tell my sister I will be with her shortly.” He excused him, to have a few minutes to contemplate Davian's request.

He could not stop thinking about what Spencer had said about the rumours rife among humans.

“Davian,” he called, before the lad could leave. “Thank you. That was incredibly gratifying.” He smirked at the young lad, who turned beetroot red and quickly left. The faint smile on his lips, as he scuttled off, proved to be even more gratifying than their physical encounter.

Parry took a slow saunter to Sienna's rooms and entered her living room as though it were any other night. But it could not be; it was a night of momentous progress in the fight against Davian's insecurities.

Sienna sat on a divan with Davian at her side, as though ready to obey any command. Parry did not understand this new insistence that Davian be
her
servant, exclusively. He did not belong to anyone. It was as infuriating as hell to see him compliant with her.

As he took his seat opposite his sister, Parry noticed Davian's discomfort. Their eyes met, before the servant looked away, flushing wildly. He wondered what had got into him, choosing such an obviously innocent young man to be his first male lover.

“Well, what is wrong now?” Parry asked.

“I want to talk to you about Spencer,” she admitted.

“Ah yes. What an intriguing boy. He truly seems to be in love with our brother. Brutally honest, from what I have noticed. Refuses him nothing,” he admitted, watching the object of his affection closely. “Just like a lover should, do you not think?” he asked.

Davian's lips twitched and he glanced up, meeting his gaze for a second before darting away again. That look held such promise.

“Do not be silly, Parry. He has to go,” Sienna announced.

They both stared at her, in shock. They had each had their own encounter with Spencer since his arrival, but Parry rather liked him.

“Why?” he asked, in confusion.

“We do not know what Prosper is capable of doing to him,” she objected, with a huff.

“Honestly, Sienna. You do talk nonsense sometimes,” Parry disapproved. “Prosper is as dangerous to Spencer as the wind to a mountain. I am certain they have equal power in their relationship. Besides, the boy is smitten, as Prosper is. I do not see a problem with their relationship, except that it makes me broody.” He smiled at Davian, who met his eyes briefly and looked away, his neck turning red.

Parry remained uncertain why he enjoyed that flushed look, but he spent the majority of his time trying to provoke it. “You cannot expect Prosper to be a hermit his entire life.” He argued Prosper's case, not that there seemed much point.

As King, their brother had the right to keep any human he wished, for whatever reason. The fact that Spencer stayed willingly and aroused Prosper's interest said much about his character.

“I do not want him to be. But he does not understand the risks,” Sienna argued.

“Of course he does,” Parry complained. “It is obvious to everyone in this household that Prosper plans to marry the boy. He will turn him and there will be nothing to argue about.” He objected to the whole conversation.

“And what if Prosper infects him or, by some curse, the child becomes pregnant?” Sienna challenged, glaring at him.

“That has never been possible. Only the rarest bloodlines were ever capable of being male and carrying a child.” Parry waved off her concerns as notions of a paranoid mind. “If the boy got infected they would be a pair of burned, scarred lovers with no care how the other looks. And if it
were
possible and the boy becomes pregnant, I can assure you Prosper will be ecstatic,” he promised.

“Master.” Davian's voice made Parry smile. “I have spoken with Eamon and he says Spencer has no protest if he were to get pregnant. The Master has promised to provide a child, if that is within his power,” he explained.

Parry stared, in approval. He offered a wink of gratitude to the servant, who looked away with that same, unsure smile that he tried to hide. “See? Are you happy now?” he asked his sister.

Sienna clicked her fingers, as though Davian had been trained to understand what that meant. And, as suspected, the servant instantly poured a glass of blood from the decanter on the table.

Parry wondered when Davian had learned what that little snap of fingers meant. It made him jealous and reckless.

When the servant offered a glass of blood, he flashed a toothy smile. “Thank you, but I prefer fresh,” he said, letting his teeth bite together, to reinforce the issue.

Davian flushed, blinking rapidly and moved away.

Parry wondered what that meant.

W
hen Prosper woke the next evening, he wanted to let Spencer sleep, since he had managed the whole day. He had never been able to sleep all day, until his companion entered his life. He could only imagine the cause; he had finally found the other half of his soul, in his life mate.

But as much as his human body needed rest, he knew that Spencer needed to eat. He had spent years starving, to give his sister every opportunity at being healthy.

Prosper decided that, while they were together, Spencer would eat as regularly and as well as he could manage.

Once they bathed, Prosper left his companion to dress in the human fashion and mentally conjured a pair of loose trousers and a shirt. He would have a night in with his companion.

He headed to the door, with plans to request a substantial breakfast from Eamon. When he found Asher pacing outside, he stalled. “What is wrong?” he asked.

They were due to travel in an hour's time, according to the regular schedule, but he had planned to cancel their trip.

“My apologies, Master. I know we are meant to travel this night, but,” Asher took a deep breath and forged on, wringing his hat, as he spoke. “Master, Elenor is sick. I have brought Reagan with me and he awaits to take you wherever you need go, but I must ask that you excuse me for this night,” he explained the matter quickly, sounding terrified.

Prosper threw open the door and waved Asher into his suite. “Of course. I planned to give you the night off,” he explained. He walked to and opened the bedroom door, to find Spencer struggling into a shirt.

His lover had requested a workman's outfit, to tackle the chaotic library in clothes suitable for a heavy task. But those plans must wait.

Prosper helped him untangle the threads from his fingers, where they had caught, and pulled the top down Spencer's chest. He smiled at the human flush and faint frown.

“Little one, you know medical aid,” he recalled, from their conversations. “If I were to send Jael with you, would you help Asher's wife? She is sick,” he explained, as briefly as he could.

Spencer had explained, just the night before, how he had completed medical training. One of the older men in the brothels had taken his companion on as an apprentice, to offer him a trade in the medical field. An injury had prevented the man from continuing his medical work, but with Spencer's steady hands to teach, his knowledge had come in useful.

Prosper had promised that his first course of action, after gaining control of the city, would be to outlaw the discrimination his people suffered and close the brothels. Too many men and women were considered worthless to society because of injury or their appearance and it should not be that way.

“Yes, of course. What is wrong with her?” Spencer asked, turning to get the facts from Asher, who wrung his hands.

“She is in labour,” Asher revealed, glancing between them. “We have one child already, but he came easily; this child refuses to assist in the labour. We cannot afford a midwife. They are expensive, as I am sure you know, Master,” he admitted, sending a swell of pride through Prosper's heart.

Not only did Asher acknowledge how aware Spencer was of the tragic state of the city, but he afforded him the title of a vampire. He treated his companion as an equal to the King; a privilege no human had ever been granted.

Spencer nodded that he understood, tutting as he rushed on with work boots. “Yes. Their costs are extreme to say the least,” he admitted, pulling a coat from the wardrobe and slipping it on. “We will take Jael and see your wife through a healthy birth,” Spencer promised, one arm in a sleeve and the other grasping Asher's hand, in reassurance.

He turned, half dressed, to kiss Prosper. He assumed Spencer would be out a while, so he helped him on with the garment, to ensure he wrapped up against the night breeze.

“I will get you something from the kitchen,” Prosper suggested. “You must eat in the carriage or you will never last the night. Then we will have a proper meal, when you return,” he promised, refusing to let his companion neglect himself. He kissed Spencer's forehead and let him leave the room, once Prosper had a nod of agreement.

Asher nodded in thanks for not putting his foot down, as King, and sending Jael on her own. He trusted Asher to care for his future husband.

Prosper nodded and they followed Spencer through the corridors, until Prosper turned off to the kitchens.

Once there, he sped through the room, putting together a basket of food, so Jael and Spencer could cope throughout the night.

When Prosper returned upstairs, after barely a few seconds, he stalled in the doorway leading into the upper hallway, curious about the look of shock on Asher's face.

Spencer wandered the corridor, unconcerned with the impact he had on the house. “Jael!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, ducking his head into every doorway and corridor, until Davian appeared from the study. “Where is Jael?” he asked urgently.

“With the Mistress. She is having an episode,” Davian explained.

Spencer ran toward Sienna's room.

Prosper leaned against the door, watching events unfold.

Asher and Davian were hot on his heels, each showing signs of confusion and curiosity.

Spencer burst into Sienna's suite, throwing both double doors open. He stopped short when he found Sienna ordering Jael to help her dress in a fancy frock.

“Jael, I need you,” he called.

Both women turned to stare at him; Jael with surprise and Sienna with outright anger. “I believe you will find this is
my
home and Jael is
my
servant,” Sienna argued.

“Jael is a free citizen of Prosper's kingdom. If she wishes to leave this house for a more worthy cause than adjusting your wardrobe, then she is free to do so,” Spencer answered back. “And if that does not satisfy you; I am Prosper's companion and in that regard
I
have the authority in this house,” he retaliated, before turning to Jael.

“I need your help to assist a woman with a dangerous labour. Will you come?” he explained briefly, instantly capturing the nurse’s attention.

“Yes. Of course…I will get my bag,” she promised, rushing off to collect her belongings.

Prosper stepped forward, while Asher and Davian stayed in the hallway to avoid Sienna's wrath. He pressed the food basket into Spencer's hands and kissed him one last time. “Be safe and eat something,” he asked.

Spencer brushed fingertips against his jawline. “I promise. Do not worry. I shall return before you notice I am gone,” he reassured, bustling into motion the moment Jael returned.

The two followed Asher out to the coach, leaving Prosper behind to worry.