Chapter Four

My thoughts are running away with me.

I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. My mother used to call me her little free bird; head in the clouds with ideas big enough to soar on.

So I guess I’ve been like this since I was young, and now that I’m an adult, my daydreams have apparently become much more lascivious in nature.

The other night—the first time I’ve ever allowed myself to think sexual thoughts about Head Priest—I became unleashed. And now I can’t stop.

I jerked off three times today alone, picturing him in my head, letting me touch him and taste him. I’ve never gotten off so damn much, and so damn hard, and it’s driving me wild. I could barely look him in the eye last night at dinner.

But I did, for a split second, and I saw it. I saw how black his eyes were. I’d be willing to bet money he’ll go into the lounge tonight for solitude. And I’m not just saying that because I’m desperate for it to be true myself.

Working so close to him all these years, I’ve picked up on the subtle nuances others haven’t. I could tell from his mannerisms last night that he’s on edge. He needs whatever he does when he’s alone in that room.

And I need to know what that is, before I go completely insane from the curiosity.

I thought maybe it would happen last night, since he went into the lounge after dinner. But then Drake showed up, and Kiara and Alissa, too. Not very solitary. He left the room not thirty-minutes later. I practically had my ear to the wall listening.

The thing is, I know it’s wrong to be prying for details. It’s also an abuse of my position as a Domestic. I’m not invited into Head Priest’s home to spy on him. I’m here to work.

But there’s this need inside me… this burning fascination, like an ache that starts in my brain, then runs from behind my ribs, all the way down, deep into my loins. It takes over my entire body.

My mind is possessed with this yearning, and nothing shy of knowing what happens in that room will sate it.

I dreamt about him again last night. I dreamt I was watching him through a keyhole. He was in a bathtub for some reason, and he knew I was looking. He put on a bit of a show for me… washing and rubbing, his own fingertips dancing across his soapy wet skin while I gazed on with the widest eyes ever.

I woke up so hard I was tenting my sheets. My balls were practically vibrating. And when I came in my hand, it was his name on my tongue like a new favorite song.

Darian. My King.

God, yes.

I need to get a grip. This isn’t right.

Those are the penances I’m repeating tonight as I prepare for dinner. We’ve roasted two chickens stuffed with lemons and fresh thyme from the garden. I made mashed potatoes and steamed some carrots. Focusing on the food will keep me distracted from the images floating around in my skull, and the way they want to make my dick hard, even here at work.

It’s crazy. I haven’t gotten this many erections since I first hit puberty. It’s nuts that this is happening now, and all it took was a new fantasy to spur it on. Though, if I’m being completely honest, it’s been a long time coming.

I never wanted to admit to myself that the reason I’ve been so fascinated with Head Priest is that I’m crushing on him hard. It’s an inconvenience I don’t need. Not to mention, it could never progress in any direction other than me being reprimanded and embarrassed beyond all reckoning.

I also don’t really have anyone I could speak with about the potential of being gay. Like I said before, we don’t do labels much in The Principality, which I’ve always liked and respected. But the default seems to be men with women. At least it is in the case of my friends. And I don’t mind being different. Actually, I like it. But what I don’t enjoy is being alone.

“Hey, kid. What’s got you so torn up tonight?” Gina’s voice breaks into my head, and I jerk. “You’ve been quiet since yesterday. Everything alright?”

I nod rapidly. “No, yea. I’m fine.” She’s not convinced, which isn’t surprising after the way I just said that. “I’m just a little stressed. Overthinking and such…”

Gina stops what she’s doing and pulls me aside. “Is this because Paul and I were asking you what you wanted for your future? Kiddo, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to put pressure on you. It’s just… Being a Domestic is great for now, but I want you thinking of something bigger. There are all sorts of jobs available on the Expanse, not just house and farm work. That’s all I was trying to say.”

“I know, Gina. I know.” I rub her arm. “It’s not that. You guys are great. You just got me thinking is all.”

She observes me for a moment, still concerned, brows zipped up. But eventually, she straightens and nods, accepting my words, then brushes my hair back with her fingers.

“There are always classes you can take, too,” she adds. “Maybe you could… talk to Drake.”

I swallow like an instinct at mention of the Serpent. “Really? I wasn’t sure you’d approve…”

“It’s part of The Principality, Abdiel.” She shrugs. “Could be worth looking into. Just to see what it’s about.”

I nod and end the conversation by tugging her back to the counter to finish dinner. And that whole thing certainly worked as a distraction, because I’m definitely not fantasizing about Head Priest anymore. Now I’m thinking about his brother…

There’s a mass of mystery at the center of The Principality. We’re open about a lot as a family, but there’s also a lot they don’t tell you as a kid growing up here. Things you stumble into learning as an adult.

Drake’s operation is a big part of that. He oversees the import/export business for crops, sure, but he’s also in charge of overseeing education, and chemical production. His title isn’t The Alchemist for nothing. Serpent is something we sort of call him behind his back because of his creepy eyes and his odd behaviors, though I’m sure he knows about it.

Drake doesn’t live in Regnum housing like the rest of us, nor does he reside in the Den with Head Priest and the wives. Drake has a small cabin near the top of White Trumpet Mountain, which is also where the lab is located. The Alchemist’s lab is an enigma itself. We know there are chemists creating things for The Principality, like fuel and medicine. But all chemists are trained by Drake himself and sworn to secrecy. If they spill any details of what happens in the lab, they risk execution.

Yea. Like, actual death for talking.

Just another facet of life on the Expanse I’ve always been eager to learn more about, though I’m hesitant. I enjoy working as a Domestic, because I like to cook and serve. I like being near him…

But with all my friends either joining the Tribe or becoming farmers, it leaves me wondering what my future could hold. And what could please this mischievous streak inside me?

Dinnertime comes as it always does, and the process begins. The wives come down first, then Darian. Everyone gets drinks, then food. Salad and bread to start, then plates of farm fresh home cooking.

Us children of the Expanse have heard horror stories, from Head Priest and from strays, about food in the outside world, full of chemical additives, hormones and preservatives that can give you cancer or cause other disorders. I’m grateful to Mother every day that I’ve never had to experience it. Our food comes straight from the earth. We don’t believe in chemical pesticides or engineering vegetables in the lab.

From what I understand, everything Drake does in his lab is completely natural. It’s interesting… Maybe I would like to learn about it.

Drake’s place setting stays empty, as usual, and Darian’s eyes, black as coal, linger on it for most of the meal. The wives converse with one another, but Head Priest is quiet; tense. I can almost feel it every time I pass by him. His shoulders appear bunched, and he might even be clenching his jaw. I don’t enjoy seeing him like this, but with my sympathy, restlessness is also building.

There’s no way he won’t be having solitude tonight. I think this is the longest he’s ever gone without it. By my calculations, it’s been at least five days.

He needs it. And as strange as it sounds, I need it, too.

The wives are barely finished with dessert when Darian excuses himself. And I can’t help but notice he doesn’t go upstairs…

I’m practically shaking with the urge to follow him. It’s never been this strong before, and it takes every ounce of my strength to get through clearing the table and clean-up duty without darting across the Den to find out if he’s in his lounge.

My mind is alive with thoughts as we finish up for the night. Eventually, just as everyone is leaving, I’m able to sneak off for just a moment, only to find the door to the lounge is closed. He’s in there, I just know it.

Desperation claws at my throat while I leave the Den. I’m buzzing with adrenaline, and I can’t go home right now. I just can’t go back to another night of fantasies without first finding out what he does in there.

What gives his eyes return from black to the colors of the sky.

My face pivots left, then right as I check to make sure no one’s around. The coast is clear in the quiet of the evening.

I tiptoe around the outside corner of the Den, in the opposite direction of Domestic housing, toward the lake. There’s a group of trees off to the side, and I slink between them, keeping myself hidden in the shadows of the night as I creep to the windows on this side of the cabin. I pass the sitting room first, then the study, then the library, ducking to ensure no one sees me.

Finally, I arrive at the farthest window, the last on this side of the house. It’s the lounge, and I need to see inside.

It’s a bit higher than I can reach on my feet, so I make a quick, probably pretty stupid decision to climb up onto a shrub, resting my weight on the house to get a clear view into the room.

The curtains are drawn just enough for me to see inside.

My heart lodges in my throat. There he is.

Darian’s in the room, just as I’d expected. He’s alone, sitting on the bed. He looks stressed; I can see it from here. His knee is bouncing, and he keeps checking his watch over and over.

What is he waiting for?

My curiosity has taken a turn for the creepy at this point. I fully acknowledge that peeping into people’s windows is wrong—and super weird—but I can’t help it. This need to know has grown like a weed inside me, strangling the life out of my rational thought process.

I must lift the cover. I must know what’s underneath.

A minute passes of nothing but my blood rushing in my ears, sweaty palms trying to grip the branches and the wood of the siding while I peer inside, suspended in time. Until eventually the door to the lounge opens slowly.

Darian’s head springs up, and something like relief sweeps over his face. My mouth falls in surprise.

It’s Drake. I didn’t expect him. Don’t tell me solitude isn’t happening tonight…

Disappointment sweeps through me for a moment as Drake steps into the room, then closes the door behind him. And he locks it.

My forehead creases while I watch, confused and hopeful. I can hear them vaguely through the window, muffled, though I’m still able to make out what they’re saying. I’m so nervous, I have to hold my breath to ensure I can listen.

“I’m here for your solitude, your highness.” Drake’s tone is a bit sarcastic, yet he’s giving Darian a knowing smirk.

I hear Head Priest sigh, “Thank God.”

And my stomach clenches with my heart in uneasy expectation.