Chapter 14

BODY TENSED WITHa unique type of tension, Nero hobbled his way back through the halls to his room. He had no one to blame but himself, anyway. He deserved the cruel and unusual punishment of unfulfilled sexual satisfaction, considering he was the reason March was suffering a bout of temporary insanity anyway. How could he have been so stupid, to not pay attention to the amount the noble had been drinking? He'd known since the damn garden party that March had never indulged in alcohol.

Trapped in his own swirl of dark, self-loathing thoughts, Nero approached the door to his chambers, barely giving the guard a glance.

"Your friends are waiting for you inside, Your Highness." He gave her a half-hearted nod and wave in response. It was only once the heavy door had closed behind them that the confusing nature of her words sank in. Friends?

"Laurel?" He hated how cautious his own voice sounded, in his own domain. "I didn't ask you to come to my room." He hadn't, right? No, he remembered, head somewhat foggy. It was Cedar he'd asked to meet him.

"Cedar's in there," Laurel said, rising up from his seated position as he answered the unspoken question. "That's why I'm out here."

"What do you want?" He wasn't in the mood to deal with the blonde male, particularly after they'd both been drinking. He'd been down that road too many times to count.

"I just want to talk," He said, light brown eyes never breaking contact with Nero's. That was something they had mused over in the past, their coincidentally similar eye color. "Surely your prissy little sweetheart won't get upset about that, right?"

For a moment, Nero remembered everything about Laurel that had attracted him in the first place. They'd been friends since childhood, and had gone through an innumerable batch of firsts together. The sorcerer had always been intense, competitive, determined. Fiery, like the form his powerful magic most often took. But something had changed him, turned him bitter, paranoid, and unstable.

He hadn't wanted to elaborate much about his short-lived tryst with Laurel to March. The less important he made it out to be to the insecure noble, the better, as far as he was concerned. But he'd been honest when he'd said it had only been sex. For one of them, anyway. Nero had always been attracted to the sharp-minded blonde, but he'd long since lost the compulsion to be with him.

Because with the memories of the cravings came the memories of how he'd been manipulated and used. How he'd been a whipping boy for Laurel's emotional turmoil, suffering the lashes of malice that radiated from him when he was having a destructive episode.

I can't fix you. He remembered saying those words, when he'd known for sure it was over. He regretted them now, despite the infinitely more awful things Laurel had said to him. You have to get some help. Those had been better, less ruthless. But it hadn't mattered. In the end, Laurel was Laurel.

But Nero wondered what kind of person he would have become if he'd had to go through what Laurel had. Because he could never be sure, his tone was soft as he answered.

"March doesn't control what I do. But you don't really want to talk to me, so I don't get why you're here."

"You're full of shit, Nero. You're not even fucking him, so what's the point?"

"Stop bringing him up," Nero snapped. "You don't even like me, you just want to mess up whatever you think I have."

Moving a shoulder, Laurel cocked a brow. "I don't think you have anything. Everyone knows you're only doing this to please the king."

"I'm not having this conversation with you. Go back to your room, and we can forget all about this."

"I know how you get when you drink, Nero. And I know that low-class little prude isn't giving you anything," he spat the words out, fire sparking from his fingertips, as it had the tendency to do when he was feeling emotional. Nero knew it well. He'd been burned by it before.

"I told you to leave him out of it."

"That's it, isn't it?" Laurel inhaled, barking out a bitter laugh. "You cocky, bigshot inheritance types are all the same. The thought of an innocent little virgin you can stake your claim on just whips you into a frenzy, doesn't it? Doesn't it!?" He demanded, slapping a hand onto the wall next to them.

Eyes wide with disbelief, Nero shook his head. The conversation had become dangerous. "Don't compare me to Malory. It's not like that between us. I swear."

"Doesn't it just drive you crazy? All that unspoiled chastity just waiting there to be corrupted." His eyes were glowing now, always a bad sign for a sorcerer. "That's why men like you want virgins, isn't it?"

The door at Laurel's back opened, Cedar standing in the frame looking baffled at the noise. Immediately getting a read on the situation, he rushed forward, wrapping arms around Laurel's torso, pressing into his back. The risk of being burned was high, but seeing one of his closest friends so agitated, hearing the pain in his voice was worse.

"Laurel, stop. You're freaking out because of the loveleaf."

"Cedar's right," Nero said, eternally grateful for the backup in the highly touchy situation. "Just take a deep breath."

"You think he's better than me, don't you?" Laurel asked flatly, but the unnerving glow in his eyes was beginning to fade. He lifted a hand to his stomach, laying it over where Cedar's fingers were locked on him.

"No, I don't," Nero said honestly.

"No one thinks that," Cedar added. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Laurel?" Ingrid's voice rang out from behind the door to the hall. She opened it gingerly, then breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the three of them. "I was looking for you," she said, voice accusing but gentle. "I drank too much. Come take care of me?"

Stepping forward, she took his face in her hands, laying a kiss on his cheek. The tension seemed to drain from him as he slumped forward, laying his forehead on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, to no one in particular.

"Shh," she soothed him, stroking a hand down his blonde locks. "Just come with me and let's get some sleep." Giving the tormented male one more squeeze, Cedar took a step back to let her guide him out.

Nero watched them cautiously, unsure if saying anything would make it worse. When their footsteps faded, he sighed, dragging his hands over his face once again.

"That was your fault, you know," Cedar informed him, but held the door to the bedroom open for Nero to step through.

"Me? He ambushed me on the way back to my room!"

"You shouldn't have slept with him in the first place."

"Oh, yeah, it's totally fair to blame me for that. You wouldn't turn him down if he tried getting with you, either."

"Yes, I would, and I did," Cedar said flatly. "He's one bad night away from burning down an orphanage or something. Only a complete idiot would say yes to that."

"Well, I'm an idiot."

"Established." Sighing, Cedar plopped back onto Nero's massive bed, flinging an arm over his eyes. "He's just feeling insecure because of March."

"Now you're going to blame March because Laurel decided to have another one of his psychotic episodes?"

"I'm not blaming him. I'm just saying it's because of him. Surely even you can comprehend the implications here that would send him into a downward spiral?"

"It hadn't occurred to me until now," Nero answered stiffly. "But, yes, I get it. Are you done lecturing me now?"

"It was never a lecture. Just worrying about a friend."

"Yeah," Nero sighed, sitting cross-legged next to the tattooed brunette. "I worry about him, too. But we can't help him."

"I know." They were silent for a few minutes before Cedar spoke again. "What did you want to talk about, anyway?"

"March."

"Of course."

"Is that a problem?" Nero asked, tired of being attacked for the night.

"Nope," Cedar answered coolly. "No need to get defensive."

"Sorry," Nero said, immediately contrite. "I'd only just finished dealing with March's meltdown, then came Laurel. Just didn't want it from you, too."

"When have I ever forced you to deal with my meltdowns?"

"Fair," he considered. "You've dealt with some of mine, though. Everyone's, really."

Humming in a bored sort of way, Cedar waved off the compliment. He didn't want or need praise for being a loyal friend. It was all he was good at, anyway. "Get on with it. Your flattery means nothing to me."

"What do you think of March, anyway? I can never tell what you're really thinking."

"As a person, or as a potential partner?"

"Both, I guess."

"As a person, he seems fine. He's quiet, but smart. Observant. I like those traits in a person. But he seems high-strung, maybe a little stuck-up. Romance-wise…" Cedar tilted his head back and forth, considering. "I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed, if you know what I mean." Nero gave a dark, caustic chuckle, remembering how he'd done essentially that, only minutes before. "As far as a relationship, prick-me-dainty isn't really my type."

"Is that some kind of sexual innuendo?"

"You're a moron, you know that?" Cedar sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway, what I think about him doesn't matter, does it?"

"Maybe. You're my friend. Your opinion matters."

"You're that serious about him?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe."

"Nothing says serious like maybe."

"I'm baring my soul here, Cedar. Do you have to be such an asshole?"

"Yeah. It's the only way I know how to show love."

Softening, Nero sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"What exactly is it you want to know?"

"I'm just trying to get advice. I'm seriously in over my head here. You know I don't have any experience with this kind of thing."

"Nero, you're like the human embodiment of a rabbit in spring."

Snorting, the prince glanced up to the ceiling. "I'm not asking for sex tips. I'm trying to court him but I don't want to screw it up."

"You think I have any advice for you?" Cedar asked incredulously. "My ex-fiancé married someone else, in case you don't remember. I obviously don't have a clue how to keep someone happy in a relationship."

"You know better than I do," Nero insisted. "Please. Just perspective. Anything."

Exhaling deeply, Cedar rubbed a hand over his eyes, thinking. "Well, March's the kind of prude that rejects pleasure. If it feels good, it must be wrong. All his self worth is wrapped up in his pristine image, right?"

"How do you know that?" Nero asked, slightly amazed. Cedar shot him a look dripping with irony, refusing to answer. "So what? I need to force it out of him, right? Like, make him admit that he wants me. When he isn't hammered drunk, anyway."

"No, idiot. Don't forceit out of him. You want him to hate you?"

"No."

"Romance him, you dimwit.If you force him to admit he wants to be with you like that, he's just going to end up resenting you for corrupting him or whatever. You just have to make him feel like he's not doing anything wrong."

"That's…" Eyes widening, Nero nodded appreciatively. "That's genius."

"It's actually a very basic train of thought. You're just incapable of thinking with anything other than your dick."

"That's why I have you." Leaning over, Nero planted a wet, noisy kiss on the brunette's cheek. "You're so good to me."

Rubbing away the saliva with his hand, Cedar gave him a look of obvious disgust. "Don't make me kick your ass, okay? I really will do it. And you'd totally deserve it."

"Your restraint is noted."

ROMANCE HIM. SCOFFING, Nero shook his head. It had all sounded so easy coming from Cedar's mouth the night before. Now, in the light of day, it sounded difficult and touchy. And borderline impossible. The irony was that he'd seduced dozens of attractive, well-bred aristocrats without an iota of any real effort. But now, this stuffy little virgin with absolutely no experience in anything was the one giving him a problem.

Balancing a tray on his hip with one hand, he shoved his key into the lock of March's door, creaking it open. He was fairly certain the noble would still be sleeping, despite his borderline obsession with rising early. If he was awake, his skull would likely be throbbing in pain. Nero hadn't drunk nearly as much, and was still suffering the pangs of a hangover.

In spite of his certainty, he found March sitting on the end of his bed, looking as fragile as he'd ever seen him. His face was pale with fatigue, and his eyes seemed larger, deeper, and even more beautiful for the faint shadows peeking out from beneath his lower lashes. Nero's mouth turned dry, his stomach jumping inside him.

"I brought you some food, and something for your head," he said, stepping in and setting the tray on a table. "I didn't think you'd be up for breakfast in the dining hall, so I…" Nero trailed off, now noticing the open, half-packed suitcases on the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Packing." March's voice was weak, and sounded haunted. "I'm going back home with my parents today."

"For a few days, or…" Nero ended the words with a questioning note. Finally raising his eyes to the prince's face, March shook his head slowly.

"To stay."

"You can't leave now," Nero denied, voice full of distress. "Just calm down and think about what you're doing."

"I'm calm." The giggling young man from the night before was gone, replaced by a cautiously prim-voiced one. Shifting into a position that put just the smallest bit of additional distance between them, March cleared his throat. "I have to apologize for how I behaved last night. It was completely inappropriate, and… And then I had the audacity to get angry, too, so I'll apologize about that as well."

"You don't need to apologize. I should have been paying more attention to you."

"Well," March moved a shoulder, keeping his chin high. "Regardless. I'm grateful to you for not… Taking advantage of the state I was in."

"You don't need to thank me for that either. What kind of guy do you think I am?" Nero demanded, repulsed by the concept.

Unable to give an answer that wouldn't sound pathetic, March didn't respond.

"What did my father say when you told him you were leaving?"

"You don't need to worry about that. I'll be sure to tell him that it has nothing to do with anything wrong that you've done, and the decision to go is purely based on my own discretion."

"So you haven't spoken with him?"

"Not yet."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Nero rubbed his temples. If he hadn't spoken with anyone yet, there was still hope. "March, please don't leave."

"I already told you that you shouldn't suffer from my decision. His Majesty is reasonable. He's not going to punish you for this."

"Forget about my father. I don't want you to leave." Frustrated with the way March wouldn't meet his eyes, he reached out, cupping his chin to tilt it. "I want you to stay."

Shame, like grease in March's stomach, overwhelmed him at Nero's honesty. The prince's warmed honey eyes bore into him, earnest candor burning hotly in their depths.

"I don't belong here."

"Just forget about what happened last night. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Forget." He repeated the word like it was in a language he'd never spoken before, and couldn't understand. "You expect me to just forget the most humiliating experience of my life? Just start a new day, like nothing's happened and nothing's changed?"

"Nothing has to change," Nero insisted. "You had too much to drink, and did some things you wouldn't normally do. Everybody does that, March."

"I'm not everybody."

"No," Nero replied, feeling his own frustration reach a boiling point. His fingers tightening on March's chin, he set his mouth in a scowl. "No, you're March Cesari. You have to be better than everybody else, right? You can't make mistakes, or have feelings, or moments of weakness."

"Say whatever you want, there's nothing that could make me feel like more of an idiot than I already do."

"You don't have to be perfect for me!" Releasing his chin, Nero gripped his shoulders, bringing their faces close enough that he could count the silver flecks in March's rainbow eyes. "If you need to do that for everyone else, then fine. But you don't have to put on an act for me. I don't want you to."

"What do you want, Neroki!?" Swatting the prince's hands off him, March stood, whirling away. "You want me to be an idiot for you? Stumbling through embarrassment after embarrassment so that you can come in here and soothe me and make it all better? Would that give you some twisted sense of purpose?"

Standing as well, Nero grabbed him again, turning him so they faced each other. "You're running away from me again. Just like before."

"I'm not-"

"Stop pushing me away!" He snapped, anger bubbling hotly in him. "I know you're scared, March. I'm fucking scared, too. Does it feel good to hear that?"

To his chagrin, March realized it did. Fear and temper twisted in his stomach, slippery and uncomfortable. "You're hurting me."

Immediately loosening his grip, Nero cursed inwardly. "You're hurting me."

"That's a ridiculous thing to say," March said, but the words seemed to flow from his ears to settle in his chest, like a heavy weight. "I'm not doing this to hurt you. I just need to leave because… Because…"

"Because of this." Hotly, and simmering with a strange kind of desperation, Nero crushed his mouth to March's.

Feeling Neroki's hands fist in his dark hair, March's head was dragged back so his mouth could be plundered even more deeply. His arms were pinned, leaving him unable to push the prince away, or perhaps pull him closer. There was a thrill in feeling confined, trapped as Neroki's tongue dipped into his mouth and traced over his. The helplessness pulsed sticky pleasure in his stomach, shocking him, but he couldn't find it within himself to feel shame for it. The feel of the prince's pounding heart against his own made his head swim.

The kiss was full of heat and demand, and hunger, leaving no room for Nero's intended romancing between them. Wild need, ribboned with strands of temper, pumped out of Nero's mouth into him until March was sure he was slowly dying.

When his lungs started to burn, Nero hauled his face back, panting. His fingers were tense, firmly tangled still in March's hair. Quivering with strained desire, he pressed their foreheads together, loosening his grip. Gently, with care he'd never shown to another person, he pressed another soft kiss to March's nose, then both his cheeks, before landing on his darkened lips again for one sweet moment.

"Please stay. I'll beg if I have to."

March's eyes were closed, eyelids having fluttered down at the feel of Nero's lips tenderly caressing his face. Afraid to open them, knowing if he did that, then Nero would stare down into his soul and expose everything he possessed and he'd have nothing left, he could only shake his head.

"You won't stay?"

"You don't need to beg me."

He felt Nero's hot breath huff out, fluttering against his lips, before he was kissed a third time. "Thank you."

"Can I sit now?" Released from Nero's grip, on unsteady legs, March made his way back to the bed, dropping down onto it.

Emotions warred in Nero's head. Uncertainty, relief, arousal. He wasn't surprised when smugness joined the pack, pride surging through him at March's reaction, and the way his eyes looked dazed and hazy.

"Feeling a little dizzy?"

Ignoring the taunt, March finally took note of the tray Nero had brought in with him. Light food, a cup of juice, two small pills, and a larger pitcher of water rested on it. They might as well have been a treasure chest teeming with golden coins and jewelry.

"This was kind of you."

"I figured you would be hurting."

"That's a very civil way to phrase it."

"Take the pills first. And make sure to drink plenty of water. You're probably dehydrated." He watched as March did as he asked, swallowing the pills before spearing a chunk of fruit on his fork. "When is your family getting here?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"I wanted to spend some time together before that. Take you on a walk or something. You can bring your book and we can look at some flowers. Are you up for it?"

March nodded, sipping water. "I'd like a walk. I just need a few minutes so I can take a shower and think." His head felt like it had a crack in it, and all his thoughts were spilling out.

"Don't think too hard. That always seems to get us into trouble."

Despite himself, March felt his mouth twitch, then spread into a grin. "I'll come by your room after."