She scooted off the bed to stop him. “You can’t. Syn needs to—”
“Zarya,” he said firmly, interrupting her. “Please. I can’t fight everyone at once.”
Growling her own frustration at him, she held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”
“Help me dress.”
Zarya paused at his suggestion. The last thing he needed to do was walk into a room full of people who wanted him dead. People who were itching for a chance to assault him, verbally and physically.
A wicked smile curled her lips as an idea struck her on how to keep him out of harm’s way for a little longer.
She walked up to him and wrapped her arm around his neck, then pulled his head down so that she could nibble his lips while she gently scooted her right hand into his pants to fondle him. Her smile widened as she realized he was already hard and wet.
Pulling back, she whispered seductively, “Dress or undress you, my lord?”
Darling’s head swam as fire ran through his veins. Her fingers felt so good on him that it was hard to stay focused on duty. Especially when she dipped her hand down to cup and finger him.
Yeah, he’d much rather stay here with her.
Something that wasn’t helped as she sank down to her knees in front of him and opened his pants.
You stop her now and I’ll kill you.
But he had an empire to run. His id could wait.
No, I can’t.
Yes, it could.
His legs went weak as she took him into her mouth and unmitigated pleasure tore through his entire being. For a full minute, he reeled from it.
The voices outside grew louder, reminding him of the job that awaited him.
Fuck the empire and everyone in it…
Yeah, that would be an intensely bad idea.
He really hated that stupid notion of the “empire comes first” his father had drilled into him as he forced himself to step back from her. The sight of her licking her lips in an open invitation was enough to kill him.
Stamping down the fire in his blood, he narrowed his eyes at her. “You are devious. Don’t think I’m not on to you.”
Any other time, it would work. But he couldn’t allow her to distract him today or to know just how much power she ultimately had over him. He was completely weak and pliant when it came to her.
“Fine,” she snapped irritably, rising to her feet. “Freshen up and I’ll get your clothes ready.”
Before he stepped away, he pulled her into his arms to give her the hottest kiss he could manage. One that had her wrapping her arms around him and clutching at his back. When he forced himself to pull away again, she was breathless.
Blinking, she stared at him with a hunger in her eyes that matched his.
He ran his hand along her jaw. “Don’t you hate it when someone stirs a fire you can’t quench?”
She narrowed those amber eyes at him. “You better be glad I’m still not over the close call you just had. Otherwise, I’d make you pay for that.”
He grinned at her before he went to take a quick ice cold shower.
Darling hesitated before he opened the doors to the throne room. What if Zarya was right and his presence here worsened things? His people hated him. He knew that better than anyone. The plebs saw him as a selfish, entitled prick out to work them until they dropped while he became richer and richer off their backs. The aristos thought he was spineless and weak, and they laughed at him to his face. Thanks to Senator Nylan, Arturo, and his own desperate stupidity, none of them had even a modicum of respect for him.
Both groups viewed him with the utmost disdain.
Worse, his mask had been destroyed in the attack. If he walked in there, he would do it with all scars showing.
With Pip’s name carved into my face.
Shame shredded his confidence while unwanted memories flogged him. Fingering his cheek, he stepped back and traced the raised scar. Even with his beard over it, it was plainly visible. Their contempt for him would only grow once they saw what had been done to him while he’d been powerless to stop it.
How helpless and pathetic he really was. If he couldn’t protect himself, how could he protect his people? That’s exactly what they’ll say.
He winced as he remembered his guard corps spitting at his feet.
They all disdain me.
I can’t do this. I can’t be laughed at again.
In that one lonely heartbeat, every degradation and humiliation of his entire life slapped him hard in the face. He heard the laughter and ridicule that had been shoved down his throat since the day his father had died.
No one respected Darling Cruel.
I’m the punch line of all cocktail party jokes.