What a King Wants Read online

  Phares stopped and turned to face him. “Why would I want another servant to attend me? You are my reliant, Darius.”

  Swallowing down the confusing mixture of anticipation and disappointment he felt, he nodded. “Of course. Yes.”

  Without another word, Phares resumed stalking back toward the palace, and Darius thought it odd that his pace had seemed to quicken. The king must have been quite eager for a bath.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Darius stared at the king, who merely cocked a brow when Darius didn’t immediately do as he was instructed.

  “You are also in need of a bath, are you not?”

  Darius became unglued, fetching fresh towels and soap as Phares began to undress. “The servants have a separate bathing chamber,” he informed the king of something he well knew, since it was his palace, but Darius was at a loss for what else to say. The sight of Phares disrobing was making a mess of his insides.

  He returned with his supplies to find Phares completely naked, standing tall and proud beside the bath. Darius’s eyes darted around the room desperately searching for anything other than the king’s well-muscled, perfectly formed body to focus on.

  He eventually settled on his feet.

  “You are shy with me. Why is that?” Phares demanded.

  “Not shy, my king. Respectful,” he rasped.

  “I do not think it is respect that prevents you from meeting my eye. Something, I’ve asked you repeatedly to do.”

  Darius jolted in alarm, raising his head and remembering the promise he’d made to Claudio. “My sincerest apologies, my ki— Phares.” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “I do not mean to be insubordinate. It is just something else to get used to.”

  Phares stepped forward, holding his gaze. “Did our kiss mean so little to you?”

  Darius clenched his jaw to hold back his words, but they fought and won their battle to be freed. “No. It did not.”

  Fire blazed in Phares’s eyes, the heat nearly scorching Darius and threatening to leave nothing behind but ash and heartbreak. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but whatever was on Darius’s face made the king rethink his next words. “Your clothes,” was all he said before turning and entering the bath.

  Darius set the towels and soap down on the tiled floor, and with no other choice but to submit to his king’s command, he undressed, folding the linen neatly and placing it tidily on his utilitarian sandals next to the king’s leather ensemble. With no other way to delay, Darius stepped into the steaming water.

  Darius picked up the soap, attempting to make quick work of washing the sweat and dirt from Phares’s body but failing when his wrist was caught in a firm grip.

  “Do not rush. I enjoy your touch.” He must have sensed Darius’s nod because he released his wrist the next moment.

  Darius continued to wash Phares’s back but with slower strokes. Unable to help himself, his hand holding the soap swept around his ribcage to wash his abdomen. Phares hummed his approval, turning to face him.

  Darius chanced a peek at his face, sighing with relief when he found Phares’s eyes closed. The lack of scrutiny emboldened him. He rubbed the soap between his hands, working up a rich lather. Placing both hands on Phares’s chest, he began to work his fingers through the thick chest hair, taking his time to memorize the curves of his pectorals. He nearly stopped when Phares inhaled sharply, his skin rippling with the effort to hold still.

  But Phares never opened his eyes, giving Darius the freedom to touch as he pleased.

  And Darius did.

  He abandoned Phares’s chest for his abdomen, tracing each taut muscle he found there until his hands became dangerously close to the one organ that was sure to be his undoing.

  “Do not stop,” Phares commanded, his voice a harsh growl of need.

  A sound Darius recognized because it was similar to the sound Phares made when he’d touched himself in front of Darius.

  Darius closed his eyes and retreated.

  He remembered when he’d first seen the king. Covered in blood and sweat, having just returned from war with the Palites. He remembered the fiery wave of lust that shot through his veins when his battle-weary king had dismounted from his horse to scoop up a small child that had wandered into the street, nearly falling victim to the pounding of a thousand horses’ hooves. Darius had never wanted anything more than he did at that moment.

  Until now.

  And now, when it was right in front of him, demanding to be taken, he could not have it.

  He was not ready.

  The king’s sound of displeasure rang in his ears. He’d failed. He’d disappointed the one person he could not afford to disappoint. Now he and his family would pay the price. Darius cursed himself, angry and disgusted with his weakness. Why couldn’t he just do it? He’d wanted to. He was attracted to Phares. But it wasn’t a matter of what his body wanted.

  It was his heart.

  He liked Phares, and that was dangerous. For he knew he was only one of many. Phares would take the pleasure he sought from him and then he’d move on to the next one.

  And Darius would be utterly ruined.

  He could not be another temporary lover in a long line of conquests.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, dropping the soap with a small splash into the water. He turned toward the steps leading out of the bath, preparing to flee when his king’s next command stopped him cold.

  “Halt!”

  Darius’s breaths were coming in short, harsh bursts, his chest heaving with the effort it took to expand his lungs and slow his racing heart.

  “You finish bathing. I am done,” Phares rasped as he moved around Darius, careful to give him a wide berth, and exited the bath. Phares dried himself quickly and donned his leathers. “Take your time, but come to my chambers for last meal.”

  Darius swallowed, shame threatening to choke him. “Yes, my king,” he whispered, eyes focused on Phares’s feet as he walked away.

  Darius sank to his knees in the shallow water. He ignored the cake of soap as it floated by thinking that he and his family were about to be just as adrift. With no further use for him, the king was sure to relieve him of his position as reliant, and if he was very unlucky, have him removed from the palace altogether.

  And then he would have no choice but to move on to the next town, looking for work he hated doing but desperately needed because there was one woman and one little girl who needed him more than he needed to be loved by the king of Khalan.

  Chapter 5

  Phares shucked his leathers the second he entered his private chambers and pulled on a pair of soft linen pants, not dissimilar to the ones the servants wore, though his were a dark blue as opposed to the cream-colored uniforms. Most clothing in the kingdom that was not made for warfare was made of the same material in differing colors, though cream was the only color designated to a specific class.

  Phares scrubbed his hands over his face, pulling lightly on his short beard and wishing he could work out his frustration in an entirely different manner.

  The journey to bedding Darius was becoming increasingly aggravating. He’d been so close to having his reliant’s hands on his cock when he’d felt him shut down, the walls he’d been chipping away at now patched and fortified with the thick mortar of fear and solid bricks of stubborn pride.

  Phares barely registered the clang of the steel dagger, the thing that had been closest to him, hitting the stone wall. He needed to get a grip on his emotions before the next one went through flesh.

  A bell sounded, signaling thirty minutes until last meal was served. His men would be wandering in from their training to hurriedly wash before sitting down in the large dining hall with their tankards of ale and wine, sharing camaraderie while they ate. The household staff would be making their way to their own dining hall behind the kitchens, likely also sharing stories and laughter while they ate before enjoying the well-earned free time they had between last meal and bedtime.

  Phare
s ate alone. He always had. From as far back as he could remember, he thought it was safer that way. Living on the streets as a child, food was the most precious commodity and something that could easily be taken from you if you didn’t eat it fast enough. He didn’t fear that anyone in his palace would attempt such a thing. It’d be a death sentence. Even so, eating alone provided him with a sense of security. He could let his guard down and take the time to enjoy his meals without the constant vigilance he’d been forced to grow up with.

  It was also why he liked well-lit spaces. Enemies could lurk in the dark.

  Now, he was finding that his preferences were changing. He still had no plans to eat in the dining hall with his men, but he’d taken great pleasure in breaking his fast with Darius. And that was before their kiss.

  With the way he’d left him in the baths, Phares had doubts that Darius would return to him as he bid. He wondered if the object of his desire was, right then, on his way to his old room to pack his meager belongings and flee the palace.

  Darius would be disappointed when he realized that his room was no longer his and his belongings no longer stored there.

  Phares’s feet carried him to the door on the far wall of his bedchamber. The tall, wooden door, stained red and adorned with the profile of a golden lion, led to the chambers of the king’s reliant—Darius’s new quarters. Earlier in the day, Phares had ordered the previously empty room be cleaned, furnished, and stocked with anything Darius might need to be comfortable. His modest belongings were packed in a wooden trunk and new clothing filled another.

  When he’d checked earlier, the windows had been left open to air the rooms out and incense burned, scenting the air with a woodsy aroma. He pushed the door open now and saw that the windows had been closed. The bed in the middle of the room was large enough to rival Phares’s own, but where Phares’s bed was draped in red and gold silks, Darius’s new bed was covered in dark blue and cream.

  He took in all the details, wanting to commit the room to memory, so later, when he was alone in his bed, he could think of Darius here, in his own bed, hopefully thinking of him in return as he slid his hand over his stomach to his cock. Of course, Phares would rather have reality over fantasy, but he didn’t have high hopes for this evening.

  He exited the room and closed the door behind him just as a knock sounded on the door to his chamber. “Enter.”

  “My king.” Darius bowed his head as he spoke, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Phares took him in. His dark, messy hair, still wet from his bath. The thick stubble that grew over his sharp jaw. His wide shoulders and narrow hips. A body born of hard labor rather than any time spent in the training arena or the battlefield. Darius was not a warrior like Phares, but a warrior nonetheless. One, he suspected, who fought and worked hard to survive.

  “Sit,” Phares invited. “Tell me about where you’re from.”

  Darius accepted his seat at the table. “I come from Janabba. It’s a small fishing village on the northern coast.”

  “I know of it.” The king nodded. “I believe it is also a port frequented by sea rovers, is it not?”

  Darius nodded. “It is. The marauders enjoy pillaging our food supply when they cannot manage to catch enough of their own. It is difficult for the villagers to survive when their main food source is continuously threatened.”

  Phares made a noise of agreement.

  “And…”

  “And?”

  “Our women. Our women are not safe, either.”

  Phares eyed Darius curiously. “Do you have a woman in Janabba?” His very soul revolted at the thought.

  “No,” Darius said, the single word sharp and finite. “At least not as you are thinking.”

  Phares raised a brow. “Explain.”

  “My sister, Brinna. She lives there still. She has a daughter, Calista. She is barely eight years old.”

  Phares blew out a breath. “That is why you send your stipend to Janabba each cycle. You are supporting them.”

  Darius’s spine straightened. “How did you know that?”

  Phares shrugged. “I am king. It’s my duty to know all that happens in my city. And I had Claudio look into you.” He smirked.

  Darius’s lips thinned, but he nodded in understanding. “I suppose that is to be expected.”

  Phares’s next words were cut off by another knock at the door followed by the servants with their meal. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

  Darius shifted in his seat. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I was under the impression that you would be releasing me from my position.”

  Phares’s brows shot up. “What had given you that idea?”

  Darius’s gaze darted from the king to the servants, and he waited until they left the room, the door closing securely behind them. “Earlier, in the bath, I—“

  “You do not want me as I want you.”

  Darius stared while Phares continued speaking.

  He took a risk and hoped it paid off. “It is all right. I had hoped we would share…more, of course, but I will not force you. And I am wise enough to recognize when I should direct my attentions elsewhere.”

  “No,” Darius nearly shouted, rising from the table with enough haste to topple the stack of delicate, honeyed pastries piled high in the middle of the table.

  “No?” Phares looked up at Darius, chest heaving, eyes wild. “What is it that you protest?” he asked carefully.

  “You are wrong,” Darius stated, rather boldly. Not many dared to contradict Phares in anything, but he was intrigued by Darius’s abrupt change in confidence.

  “I am?”

  “I…I do want you.”

  Phares narrowed his eyes. “But you do not want to, is that the complication?”

  “I do not want to because I fear that you will ruin me.”

  Phares slowly stood, so that they were eye to eye. “You fear I will ruin you? You do not believe that I would take care of you?”

  “You have taken many lovers from among the servants. I hear them talk.”

  “Do you indeed?” Phares stepped around the table and invaded Darius’s space. “If that were the case, you would know that I have never taken a lover from among the servants. I have never taken a lover at all. All I have done, all I have ever done, is fuck some of them from time to time.” At Darius’s skeptical look, he amended, “Fine, not some of them but many of them.”

  “And they meant nothing to you?”

  His insubordination chafed, but Phares reminded himself this was not a conversation between king and subject but between two men who were about to enter into a mutually beneficial sexual relationship. “I do regard them, if that is your meaning. But I never misled them. They were informed that I wished to fuck them, and those who were in agreement, spread their legs or bent over for me. There were no declarations or promises made. Not with any of them.”

  His arms shot forward, his hands fisting in the material of Darius’s shirt, something granted to him when he became reliant, pulling him in close. “You, on the other hand, are different. You, Darius, I would have in every way. You, I would have as my lover.”

  “Why?” Darius whispered.

  Phares smiled, shrugging. “Why does the sun shine? It just does.” He released the material of his shirt and slid his hands under the hem. Darius’s skin felt like velvet against his calloused palms. He wanted that feeling all over his body. “Are we in agreement?” he rasped.

  Darius’s momentary hesitation was a lifetime of pure agony for Phares.

  But, finally, he gave him what he ached to have. “Yes.”

  “Then you must eat. You will need your energy.” Phares reluctantly dropped his hands and returned to his seat.

  Darius lowered himself to his own chair and began piling his plate high with all manner of meats and breads.

  Phares chuckled, pleased as well as amused.

  “Apologies, my king,” Darius said with a twinkle in his eye. “Should I
have served you first?”

  Phares grinned. “You will serve me, reliant. But it won’t be with food.” He popped a thick cut of lamb in his mouth and chewed, eyeing Darius up like he too was a piece of juicy meat.

  When he had eaten his fill, he stood, walked over to the bed, and divested himself of his pants. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable sound of dishes crashing together, and he bit his lip to stifle his laughter. No doubt, the table would have been covered in broken pottery had Phares been facing Darius when he’d dropped his pants.

  He could feel Darius’s heat at his back, and it was all he could do not to toss the man to his bed and force himself inside. He longed to feel Darius’s flesh close around his, dragging him in deeper as he fucked him with everything he had.

  Soon.

  Saving his fantasy for a later date, Phares sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at the man he was making his. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage.” He gestured at his nakedness.

  “I find it impossible to believe that the king of Khalan is ever at a disadvantage.”

  He’d be surprised. Phares was finding he would do anything to possess Darius. He was bordering on desperation, and that definitively put him at a disadvantage. Desperation made men reckless, and Phares was never reckless.

  He was methodical. Decisive. Discerning.

  Not ever reckless.

  “Perhaps you would humor me and even the field,” he suggested.

  Darius removed his clothing in what Phares would describe as an agonizingly slow display of peacocking.

  “You already know I desire you. There is no need to show off,” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes when Darius smirked. “Get on your knees for me,” he ordered, widening the space between his legs to make room for Darius’s wide shoulders.

  His cock had been hard since the moment Darius had admitted that his need was mutual, but seeing the proud man drop to his knees in front of him brought an ache to his balls like he’d never experienced. He was afraid that what happened next was going to be over too quickly. His hands gripped the side of the mattress, his fingers fisting in the silks nearly tearing them apart in his attempt to restrain himself.