Chapter 17: A Dangerous Warmth

Basil stared at Darius for a long moment, genuinely wondering whether the man standing in front of him had a loose screw or some previously undiscovered mental illness. The idiot was smiling as though he had not just broken into someone else’s suite with a spare key.

"I’m not hungry. Take it back," Basil said flatly, folding his arms across his chest.

It was a complete lie.

His stomach felt like it was trying to consume itself from the inside. The scent drifting from the heated serving cart was torture. Even worse was the presentation. The food was being served exactly the way it used to be before everything had fallen apart.

Polished silver covers. Proper dishes. Fresh linen, and there was even a single rose arranged neatly on the cart. This was the kind of service befitting a prince, the kind he had quietly lost, but there was absolutely no way he was admitting that out loud.

"But you need to eat," Darius replied as if Basil had said something completely unreasonable.

"I said I’m not hungry. Get out of my space."

The universe immediately chose that exact moment to betray him.

A loud growl erupted from his stomach.

Heat rushed into Basil’s face so quickly it almost hurt. Humiliation flooded through him as he tried looking everywhere except at Darius, wishing the floor would open and swallow him whole.

Darius blinked once.

Then a grin spread across his face. "Your stomach just called you a bloody liar."

Basil wanted to die.

"Even then, I’m not eating," he snapped. "Especially not food brought by you."

For the first time since entering the suite, Darius’s smile faded, his shoulders dropping as genuine confusion crossed his face. "What did I ever do to you?" he asked. "Is it really such a terrible thing that I want us to be brothers?"

Basil looked at him carefully, his anger faltering for a split second.

Darius actually sounded sincere. His blue eyes clouded with an unexpected vulnerability that made Basil’s throat go dry. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of sympathy for him.

What am I actually doing?

The thought surfaced before he could stop it.

Why was he so against the idea of them being brothers? Darius had not personally done anything wrong to him. If anyone had the right to be angry, it was Darius. He was the one who had been robbed of twenty-one years of his life. So why did every attempt the man made to get close to him leave Basil feeling cornered and defensive?

Before he could dwell on those uncomfortable thoughts any further, Darius ruined the moment.

"Or maybe you want us to be something other than brothers?" he asked with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows.

Basil’s pity evaporated instantly.

"You think this is a game?" he demanded. "Do you think we’re standing here discussing some kind of joke? Do you really enjoy making light of everything that’s happened?"

"I didn’t mean it tha—"

"Please leave me the fuck alone!" Basil cut him off, his hands curling into tight fists.

Darius sighed. "I’m afraid that’s not going to happen."

Basil stared at him. "What?"

"I have great plans for us," Darius said confidently. "We’re going to bond. We’re going to become the best brothers in the whole wide world. None of those plans work if I leave you alone."

Basil could only look at him.

He didn’t need to wonder anymore. The lost and found prince was insane.

There was genuinely no other explanation.

How could anyone say something that ridiculous with a straight face after everything that happened.

Darius pointed toward him. "Anyway, let’s start with the first step. Getting some food into that body of yours."

Before Basil could object, Darius pushed the serving cart farther into the sitting area.

"What are you doing?" Basil asked.

"I believe you’re not blind," Darius remarked dryly. One by one, he began lifting the silver lids and placing the steaming dishes onto the small portable dining table in the corner.

"I said I don’t want that. I’m not going to eat it. Stop wasting our time."

Darius paused.

Then he turned slowly and looked Basil dead in the eyes, his playful expression gone.

"You’re going to eat it whether you like it or not."

Basil’s breath hitched.

Something cold slid down his spine. It was the exact same feeling he’d experienced earlier when Darius had casually threatened to chain him to a bed.

The certainty in his voice made Basil’s stomach twist. It wasn’t a bluff. Somehow, he knew Darius meant every word.

"But," Darius continued calmly, "you get to choose how. Peacefully or by force."

"You—"

"Come here." The words weren’t yelled.

Yet every instinct Basil possessed suddenly began screaming at him not to disobey.

Darius’s gaze never wavered.

"Don’t make me repeat myself, my prince," he said. "Come sit down right now."

My prince? Why did he like the way that sounded coming from Darius?

Basil hated himself for feeling that way. He hated Darius. He hated this entire situation.

Most of all, he hated the fact that his feet actually moved. Before he fully realized what was happening, he was crossing the room toward the table. Darius immediately pulled out a chair for him.

Basil sat. Like an idiot.

Like he had been compelled.

"Good boy," Darius said approvingly, his voice instantly softening as he slid the plate closer to him. "Now dig in. I will wait until you finish everything."

Darius took a seat opposite him, leaning his elbows on the table. Basil watched him warily, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Darius smiled.

"Go on. Eat. You don’t want it getting cold."

Muttering several insults under his breath, Basil slowly picked up his fork. The first bite disappeared. Then another. Then another.

His body betrayed him just as thoroughly as his stomach had earlier. Hunger crashed into him with shocking force. The more he ate, the more he realized just how hungry he’d actually been. Or maybe it was because it had been so long since he’d had a proper meal.

Across the table, Darius just sat there, his chin resting in his palm, watching him eat with a quiet, intense satisfaction.

Every now and then, Basil caught him looking and immediately looked away again, only for his eyes to drift back a few moments later.

It was irritating. Strangely Irritating.

And somehow impossible to ignore.

By the time the last dish was empty, Basil felt embarrassingly full.

Darius’s face immediately brightened. "There we go." He rose from his chair and stepped around the table.

Basil watched warily as a hand reached toward him. Instinctively, he flinched.

Darius paused. One eyebrow lifted.

Basil swallowed. Then, without saying anything, Darius gently ruffled his hair.

"You did good today."

The simple praise hit him far harder than it should have. Before Basil could figure out why, Darius was already gathering the dishes and returning them to the cart.

A few minutes later, everything was packed away. Darius pushed the cart toward the door.

"See you later, big brother."

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

Silence settled over the suite.

Basil remained frozen in his chair. His heart was beating far too fast as a strange, terrifying warmth bloomed deep in his stomach.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered.

Nothing about that interaction made sense.

Nothing about Darius made any sense.

Basil had never experienced anything remotely like that before in his entire life.

What was wrong with me?

Why had his pulse reacted like that?

Why had his entire body gone strangely warm when Darius had ordered him around?

The realization hit him. Basil immediately buried his face in both hands.

No. Absolutely not. That was impossible.

He was straight. He had always been straight.

And even if, by some unimaginable twist of fate, he wasn’t, it certainly wouldn’t be because of that newly found lunatic.

The thought only made his face grow hotter.

"I think I’m going crazy."

He needed to leave this palace soon.

Very, very soon. Because if he stayed around Darius much longer, Basil was beginning to fear that something inside his head might permanently break.