Qylar wrapped his large, warm hand around Kenji’s narrow wrist and tugged it closer. The scorch of heat against Kenji’s skin sent a thrill through him, just as it had when Qylar had snagged his hand earlier. He looked up through his eyelashes and watched Qylar, wondering if the guy felt the same thrill as he did.
Kenji couldn’t tell. Qylar was focused on his task.
When his gaze lifted and met Kenji’s, a hint of surprise seemed to flash in his eyes before they darkened. The pupils opened, and his nostrils flared. Kenji’s gaze dipped a bit, and he noticed the quickening rise and fall of Qylar’s chest. Slowly, he dragged his gaze back, pausing at Qylar’s lips, yearning for another of his drugging kisses.
When their eyes locked again, the static electricity building between them took his breath away. Yet Qylar didn’t swoop infor a kiss, no matter how much he silently begged him to. He should just make the first move. It was obvious Qylar wouldn’t say no… but for some reason he couldn’t move. He sat there like an idiot, longing for what he could easily take.
I did just tell him to slow down. Might be a bit hypocritical to suddenly jump his bones.
“It won’t be long now,” Qylar said, his voice raw and stretched thin by want.
“You have to take my blood first,” Kenji said, lifting his arm higher.
“I already did,” Qylar said, one brow rising.
Kenji glanced at his arm, frowning.“You did?”
“I did,” Qylar said, pointing at a tiny clear patch covering a pinprick of bright red on his upper bicep.
“I didn’t feel a thing,” Kenji said, turning his gaze back to the infinitely better view. “You must know what you’re doing.”
“I had a little medic training from my time in the Nefyrian Services.”
“And that is?”
“Think the UN Peacekeeping Forces, but in space.” Qylar smiled. “Cryss and I flew relief and rescue missions across the Nefyrian Empire for a good deal of our twenties. If there was a catastrophe in the realm, we went in with supplies and aid as soon as possible—or ran evac in the worst cases.”
“Sounds heroic,” Kenji said.
Maybe it was Qylar who was Superman in their story.
“When did you come live on Earth?”
“Cryss and I spent many summers and holidays here, from the time we were quite young.Beforethe chaos and my father was dethro—” Qylar paused a second, frowning. “We crash landed our ship nearly a decade ago and have been here more or less since.”
No wonder he sounds like he’s from here. Wait…
“Dethroned?”
Qylar’s face grew pinched.
“Was your father a king or something?”
“Wasbeing the operative word,” Qylar said, his jaw tight.
“That means you were a prince,” Kenji said. He chuckled. “That tracks.”
Qylar’s brows furrowed. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“You’re polished… poised… You carry yourself like royalty. Dethroned or not.” He needed to add intimidating, overwhelming, and utterly addictive to that list. Pop a crown on him and he was the perfect romance novel hero.Gayromance novel hero, which made him all the more delicious.
Or better yet—BL manga. With that strong jaw and his killer looks, Qylar’s face deserved illustrations to go along with the story so readers could see what all the fuss was truly about.
“Regardless, I’m simply a servant now,” Qylar said, his jaw tight. “Nothing more.”
There was nothing simple about Qylar.
“I have nothing to give someone. No name. No honor. No…” Qylar dragged his gaze away. “Nothing.”
