Chapter thirteen.

(So I had to edit my chapters to make them longer. Enjoy.)

Prince Evan's POV.

Regret consumed me, an unending, suffocating tide that washed away any semblance of rationality. What had become of me? My mind, a twisted maze of obsession and delusion, had led me down this dark path. The object of my misguided affections? My own brother. The crushing realization that my feelings were nothing more than a manifestation of my own foolishness left me shattered and broken.

Curiosity had been my undoing, convincing me that there was some glimmer of legitimacy to these emotions. But deep down, I knew it would never be accepted as normal, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it. And so, I lay curled up on my bed, drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions. The pain was unbearable, and I was utterly lost, unsure of how to even begin to process what I was feeling.

My inner monologue continued, each thought a heavy weight pressing down upon me. I just had to follow him, didn't I? Like some sort of pathetic, obsessive creep. And what did I gain from it? Nothing but heartache. If only I had just minded my own business, I wouldn't be this broken, desperate shell of a person, yearning for an affection that I know will never be reciprocated.

The cruel truth was clear to me now: the person I so desperately desired would never see me in the same light. Throughout my life, I had always hoped, even believed, that I would one day find the love and acceptance I felt I deserved. But now, as I lay in the wake of my own foolishness, those dreams seemed to crumble into dust before my very eyes.

Yet even in the throes of my despair, a small part of me knew that crying alone in this room was foolish. I no longer had the luxury of privacy, for he had somehow convinced my father to let him share my space during his final week here. He had business to attend to, after all.

As the door swung open, Prince Adar walked in, oblivious to the storm of emotion swirling within me. I couldn't bring myself to care what he might think of me in this vulnerable state. He could laugh, mock, or judge me all he wanted. It didn't matter anymore.

He regarded me with a gaze that seemed tinged with concern, yet he maintained a careful distance as he seated himself on the couch near my bed. My eyes, sore and swollen from the torrent of tears, met his as he studied me in silence. There was something in his expression that I couldn't quite decipher, a mix of curiosity and perhaps a hint of sympathy. Yet still, he said nothing.

Despite my pain, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of intrigue at his uncharacteristic silence. Here he was, so close and yet so removed from my anguish. Why didn't he offer some words of comfort, anything to help me forget the betrayal I had witnessed? After all, it was the sound of my brother's intimate encounter with a servant—one whom I loathed with every fiber of my being—that had shattered my fragile hope. And in the midst of their passion, I had heard those three words I had so desperately wished would one day be mine.

Finally breaking the silence, I turned to him and asked, my voice thick and slurred from the alcohol that had coursed through my veins, "You're not saying anything?" It was then that I realized that perhaps the drink had played a part in amplifying my emotions, pushing them to the brink of breaking. But even so, the pain remained very real, and his continued silence only served to deepen my despair.

His response, though gentle, was tinged with an air of caution. "Would you want me to?" he asked, his words measured and careful. "You haven't been very kind to me, so I have to choose my words wisely around you."

In that moment, I felt a pang of something unfamiliar stirring within me. Could it be guilt? Was I feeling remorse for the way I had treated him, even in the midst of my own pain? The thought was both unexpected and disconcerting.

Desperation crept into my voice as I replied, "At this moment, yes." I needed something, anything to break through the crushing weight of my despair.

"I don't know what it is that has brought you to tears," he said, his voice still gentle and measured, "but I truly hope that whatever it is, it will pass." His words, though well-intentioned, only served to highlight the impossible position I found myself in. I could never reveal the true source of my anguish, for he would surely think me insane and expose my secret.

And yet, as I looked into his eyes, I saw something unexpected—a softness that I had never noticed before. Was it possible that he harbored some feelings for me? Or was it just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind, clouding my judgment even further?

Despite my drunken haze, I managed to rise from the bed, my feet unsteady as I walked towards him. I tried my best to maintain my balance, wiping the remaining tears from my cheeks as I stood before him.

In that instant, I saw him with new eyes, as if a veil had been lifted. He was handsome, more so than I had ever allowed myself to acknowledge. Perhaps I had noticed it before, but had never truly considered it, too consumed by my own emotions to see him for who he truly was.

As our gazes locked, his eyes seemed to plead with me, though for what, I couldn't say. Lost in a daze of emotions and alcohol, I was unaware of the moment when I straddled him, his hands hovering uncertainly at my waist.

I must have looked a mess, disheveled and undone. My shirt hung open, exposing my chest, and my hair was a tangled mess, strands clinging to my forehead with sweat. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All I could focus on was him, his warmth beneath me and the hesitant touch of his hands.

His words were a stark reminder of the precarious position we were in, and yet his hands tightened around my waist, as if he was struggling to hold himself back. "Prince Evan, this is...quite inappropriate," he stammered, his voice betraying the conflict within him. "What would anyone think if they were to walk in on us like this?"

Ignoring his concern, I placed my hands on his nape,tracing my thumbs along the line of his jaw as I gazed into his bright brown eyes. They were mesmerizing, more beautiful than I had ever realized. In that instant, all thoughts of propriety were swept away, replaced by an overwhelming desire that consumed me.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" I slurred, my words thick with alcohol and desire. "I find you attractive."

His response was stern, a testament to his inner struggle. "You're very drunk, Evan, and you may come to regret anything that happens between us—especially if you're the one initiating it. I don't want you to do something you'll later wish you hadn't. I don't want to hurt you." Even as he spoke, his hands moved slowly to my back, his touch sending waves of heat through my body, setting my skin aflame.

Despite his words of caution, his actions betrayed his own desire, and I knew that he was fighting a losing battle against the growing intensity between us.

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Whatever hurt you may cause, I hope it's satisfactory," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

That was all it took for the dam to break. His lips crashed into mine, all hesitation gone as desire took control. In that moment, everything else ceased to exist. The world around us faded away, and I lost myself in the sensation of his lips on mine, in the heat of his body pressed against me.

His hands grew more insistent, exploring my back and neck, tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. Each tug sent shivers of pleasure down my spine, and I surrendered completely to his touch, eager to let him take everything he wanted.

He broke away from my lips, leaving me breathless and yearning for more. His mouth trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites that made me moan in pleasure. My mind was clouded with desire, and I couldn't help but think about how long I had waited for this moment, for the intimacy that I had craved for so long.

Without a word, he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, dropping me onto the soft mattress before hovering over me, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was as consumed by desire as I was, and I could see the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at me.

"Evan," he whispered, his voice thick with desire as he ran his hand through his hair. There was a certain confidence in his demeanor, as if he knew exactly how irresistible he was.

"You can tell me to stop," he continued, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. "I really don't want to take advantage of you while you're in this state." Despite his words, he climbed onto the bed, hovering above me with his hands resting on either side of my head.

The weight of his body pressed against me, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. I knew he was trying to do the right thing, to give me a chance to stop this before it went too far. But in that moment, I couldn't imagine wanting anything more than to surrender myself to him completely.

My words were a plea, a desperate cry for him to give in to our shared desire. "I want this," I said, my voice barely audible. "Please, stop being gentle and ravish me."

And with that, the last of his restraint crumbled away. He claimed my body with a ferocity that both thrilled and terrified me, exploring every inch of me with a hunger that was insatiable. I lost track of time, lost track of myself, as I gave myself over to the pleasure that he inflicted upon me.

That night, everything shattered around us, including the very last vestiges of my resistance. My back ached from the force of his passion, but I welcomed the pain, embraced it as a testament to the intensity of our encounter.

***

As consciousness slowly returned, my head throbbed with a relentless ache, the telltale sign of an impending hangover. My confusion only deepened as I took stock of my surroundings, realizing with a start that I was completely naked. What had happened the night before? What had I done?

The memories came flooding back in a disjointed, hazy blur as my gaze fell upon the man sleeping peacefully beside me. His arm was tucked under my pillow, a reminder of the intimacy we had shared. But even as the recollection of our passion returned, a feeling of dread began to take hold. What had he done to me? What had I allowed to happen?

I tried to move, only to be met with a searing pain between my legs and an ache in my back that felt as though I had been trampled underfoot. As the reality of our encounter came into focus, anger boiled within me, a hot, bitter taste in my mouth.

Without thinking, I lashed out, my hand connecting with his chest in a stinging slap. He jolted awake, shock etched across his features as his gaze met mine. In that moment, all I could see was the man who had taken advantage of my vulnerability, who had used my desire against me.

"What did you do to me?" I screamed, my voice raw with fury. I couldn't believe that I had allowed myself to be so vulnerable, so foolish. And now, as I faced the man who had taken advantage of that vulnerability, all I could feel was a white-hot rage.

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "I? You came at me, you initiated everything," he spat, his voice laced with disbelief and accusation. "I knew I shouldn't have let you lead me on, but I was blinded by lust. I did everything you asked, like some sort of obedient puppy. I'm so stupid."

Without another word, he climbed out of bed, his naked body a stark reminder of what we had shared the night before. He grabbed his pants and pulled them on before storming into the bathroom, his frustration evident in the way he slammed the door behind him. "Man, fuck this," I heard him mutter under his breath.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the weight of my actions crashed down upon me. I had been so foolish, so reckless. And now, there it was, a glaring reminder of my indiscretion—a bright red mark, just below my collarbone. I traced my fingers over it, wincing at the tenderness. This man had given me a hickey! A goddamn hickey.

"Adar, did you seriously give me a hickey?!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls of the room. I was livid, my anger mingling with a deep sense of shame. This was the last thing I had wanted to come from that night. How could I have let this happen?

(Damn. I loved this chapter.)