Royal Blood (ManxMan Fantasy Romance)

***2***

When Prince Dancennou heard for the first time Chevalier Ruatta's rich and mellow voice thanking him in very proper words for the promotion, he couldn't help but tremble. Now he could listen to that voice every day, see the owner of that voice every day if he would choose so. And why wouldn't he, if it was the first man in his life whom he had found so attractive and desirable.

It never crossed Prince Dancennou's mind that he had fallen in love at first sight, like a typical hero of a tawdry romance. No, had he been asked, he would answer unwavering, that he wanted only to dally with the cute ginger kitten to his heart's content. For the last three years or so the Prince managed not to fall even slightly in love and had every intention of continuing such commendable practice. Falling in love was dangerous because it swept away every sober and calculating thought and quenched the voice of reason.

He could fairly hope for the young Chevalier to understand at once why he had been transferred and offer to settle the account in the most agreeable way. Of course, such a turn of events would rather disappoint the Prince denying him the pleasure of chasing his prey, but it would spare him time and effort. Yet Ruatta accepted the promotion as his due and clearly had no intention of paying the debt of gratitude in any other way except polite words and zealous work. It was high time for the Prince to take matters seriously and lay out a full-blown siege.

Damned Chevalier Ruatta, the golden idol with a heart of stone, remained cold and impassive! What's more, he didn't even notice the Prince's advances which the latter was making more openly day by day — or rather pretended not to notice as was the Prince's utmost conviction.

His voice never faltered when Daronghi would bend over his shoulder to look at some papers on the table as a strand of his gorgeous raven-black hair would caress Ruatta's neck. His hands never trembled when he would take the Prince's wrist and flex it this way and that showing some fencing move. His gaze never grew dim with desire no matter how elegant and graceful a pose the Prince would strike. He would calmly accept the invitation to the tavern for a glass of wine and would as calmly thank the Prince and leave him after exactly that single glass of wine.

Once the Prince practically forced Ruatta to invite him over. He didn't like to take his potential lovers into his own bedchamber, considering it too intimate and too big an honor. He was used to wage and win battles on the enemy territory. Yet this time it was a crushing defeat. For the whole evening Chevalier Ruatta had been cold and withdrawn, conversed with impeccable courtesy about nothing in particular and shortly ousted his guest under the pretense of being busy.

"How dare he!" the Prince thought, furious. "He should be happy that I had noticed him at all! Who is he anyway, a poor country excuse for an aristocrat, with neither money nor connections nor talents!"

In that way a month had passed, which was an unusually long time for an experienced seducer such as Daronghi Dancennou. At last Daronghi's cup of patience had been not only full to the brim but running over.

Daronghi had no trouble arranging his being left alone with Ruatta late in the evening, in the Commander-in-Chief's own office, spacious and sparsely furnished. There was no need even to lock the door; no one would come here till morning. Prince Dancennou stood up, accepted some insignificant papers he asked Chevalier Ruatta to bring over and without further ado took him into his arms. They were the same height; he looked straight into those green eyes, almost black in the dusk, and was just about to kiss Rudra, whose lips slightly parted as if welcoming him. Yet the young Chevalier suddenly breathed out sharply, clenched his teeth and resolutely withdrew himself from the Prince's embrace.

"Your Highness, please, don't," he said, and for the first time his voice faltered.

The Prince had no time to answer before Rudra swirled round and hurriedly left the office.

Daronghi smiled contentedly. The wall of defense seemed to have been breached, and with a bit of further effort the last bastion would shortly crumble. Let the kitten enjoy the last day of his freedom. Delaying the pleasure sometimes tended to render it more sweet and satisfying.

Next day the Prince noticed with triumph that Chevalier Ruatta avoided his gaze, and his breath quickened as he addressed the Prince. Daronghi would love to see the young Chevalier blush, the red-head should look fabulous when blushing, but he seemed to possess still too much self-control for that.

The Prince bid his time reveling in the young man's embarrassment, and then snatched a moment to whisper in his ear, "Eight o'clock in the evening, my place. You know where it is, I believe?"

The young Chevalier lifted his eyes to him. His face was completely unreadable when he said quietly,

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but this is an invitation I cannot accept."

At first Daronghi was astonished, and then he felt such a keen rage that his royal blood nearly boiled over. An unheard-off impertinence! It took an inhuman effort of the Prince not to thrash the insolent brat with words or not to simply seize him by the arm and drag away to his lair. The last thing he wanted was a public scene. Well, if the kitten didn't appreciate a gentle petting, let see how he would like a whipping. The Prince Dancennou snapped out in the manner most overbearing, "That's not an invitation, that's an order."

He couldn't possibly find a more humiliating way to make a sexual offer. Now Rudra's cheeks blossomed with red, his nostrils flared and his mouth twitched in suppressed anger. Yet considering the utmost unconquerable reverence for the royal family in Creede instilled by two thousand years of the Creedan monarchy, he absolutely couldn't bring himself to disobey the Crown Prince in public.

"As Your Royal Highness wishes," he said through clenched teeth.

"That's better," the Prince announced condescendingly. "Don't be late, I dislike it greatly."

And he left, oblivious to the fact that the young Chevalier's gaze following him was filled with dark fury.

Three hours before the appointed time Prince Dancennou suddenly found himself nervous. It practically never happened to him before. The clock hands seemed to be frozen in place, his heart seemed to flutter in his chest in the most peculiar manner, and his head seemed to be buzzing with thoughts stupid beyond belief, like, "What if he isn't coming?"

How on earth could he not? How would he dare to disobey his Prince, pray tell? "Let him as much as try, I'll destroy him, I'll grind him into dust, I'll give him to my guards to take turns with him, I'll..." the Prince thought, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Then, quite without a pause, he started to fear for his amorous skills to fail him, to prevent him from making Chevalier Ruatta beg, from rendering him mad with desire. The Prince always made a point of maintaining his reputation of an amazing, unparalleled lover. Praise God, at the age of nineteen any possibility of an erectile dysfunction was highly unlikely.

He imagined how he would press Rudra Ruatta to the sheets with his body and take him from behind with strong powerful thrusts, possessing him, owning him, and how Rudra would moan into the pillow and ask for more.

At this point he had to forcefully clear his head of any thoughts of such kind, lest he would drive himself into even higher state of arousal and involuntarily spend himself even before his lover's coming. He called him that already, 'lover,' in his head, it was a done deal. No way would Rudra deny him, he wouldn't dare resist a person of royal blood. The Prince's royal blood was boiling, raging in his veins, threatening to melt his body, longing for Ruatta's embrace, for the touch of his flesh, let him only touch that gorgeous body, and the dam would break open, and he would flood his lover with steaming-hot passion...

One hour before the appointed time Prince Dancennou had to take a cold shower to refresh himself and wash away the sweat of excitement. Half an hour before the appointed time he had to drink some wine to dull his arousal a little. He switched off the lights in every room except the bedroom and opened all the doors for Rudra to see at once where he should go. He unmade the bed to avoid unnecessary words and explanations, to make everything perfectly clear at the first sight, and sat in a chair waiting.