Ollie sighs and withdraws his hand. He places it on his hip instead. Green eyes glare up at Llywelyn.
“Take it from someone who spent their whole life being a nasty asshole. It is not the protection you think it is. And it is a miserable way to live.”
And with that, he is gone. Striding over the green grass, back to Prince Tristan.
“Why do you act like such a dickbag?” I ask under my breath.
Llywelyn inhales sharply. “I behave as a prince should!”
Just as the words leave his lips, Tristan laughs. A rich, melodic sound full of mirth. It carries on the spring air and fills the garden. A mocking rebuke to Llywelyn’s claim that princes need to be assholes.
I turn to Llywelyn with a raised eyebrow.
He bristles. “Nobody is truly as they seem. Everyone puts on the persona they think will help them the most.”
“And being a hated dickbag helps you?”
Shit. Why did I say that? What the hell has got into me? Why am I frustrated by Llywelyn pushing people away when I know he craves friends? It is not my problem. It shouldn’t be my problem. I shouldn’t care. Not like this.
Llywelyn’s face pales. His features pinch. I’ve pissed him off.
He yanks on my leash and pushes down on my shoulder. I think about resisting, but we are in public. Which is precisely why he is doing this. The little shit.
With a glare, I drop to my knees.
He steps in close. The silk robes covering his cock brush against my face. His golden eyes glitter and his nostrils flare. Cold fingers rake through my hair before grabbing it and forcing my head back.
Fuck. I kind of like him like this. It is turning me on. People are watching, even though they are supposed to pretend they can’t see Llywelyn. I can feel their eyes on us. A prickling along my skin.
Llywelyn is acting all dominant. No one watching us knows the truth. They don’t know that when we are in bed, I’m the boss, and that he submits to me so sweetly. They’d never imagine that he takes my cock and whines for more.
This paradox between appearance and reality, added to the clandestine nature of it all, is getting me so fucking hard.
He pulls me to my feet and drags me out of the gardens. To everyone looking, it appears he is finding a private place to shove his cock down my throat. Part of me is hoping that is exactly what he is doing.
We enter the palace and he bundles me into a small, nondescript room. His hands move. I think he is putting a secrecy spell over us.
His golden eyes blaze at me. “Can you keep your criticisms of me to when we are in private?”
No blow job then. It’s shocking how disappointed I am. It is on the tip of my tongue to offer one. But before I can utter a word, he speaks again.
“My persona was carefully constructed under expert advice!” His chin looks deadly at this angle.
I shake my head in an effort to get my brain cells firing. “Whose advice?”
Llywelyn blinks. “A very trusted court advisor.” His cheeks heat because he knows that I know exactly who he is talking about.
For fuck’s sake, I should have figured this out. That bastard Iestyn again. Groomer, abuser, manipulator. Is there no part of Llywelyn that he has not shaped and contaminated?
I inhale deeply through my nose. I do not want to talk about that vile piece of shit right now. No good would come out of that conversation anyway. It would only serve to throw me into a murderous rage, and Llywelyn would get all defensive. So, no, screw talking about Iestyn. I’m going to change the subject.
“Nevermind that,” I snap. “Why did you challenge for Ollie, you clearly don’t like him?”
Llywelyn startles at my abrupt change of topic. Then his eyes narrow. “Tristan is Rhydian’s obvious successor. I needed to get rid of him.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Llywelyn often manages to surprise me. Sometimes he appears like a sulky spoilt brat. Other times, it feels like everything he does is cold and calculated.
“Explain.”
