part the second

[maderr]

*~*~*~*

Benedict finished off his wine – red, dark, and potent – and refilled his glass, both pleased and disappointed that he was still sober enough he didn’t spill a drop.

He finished half the glass in one gulp and cringed – wine should never be drunk quickly.

One empty bottle lay on the ground beneath him, and as he heard a horse-like laugh from somewhere within the maze, he cringed and finished the rest of his wine.

This time he spilled a bit as he refilled his glass. He laughed bitterly as the obnoxious horse laugh again shattered the relatively silent night. This far from the palace, buried in a small nook beyond the maze that no one but he seemed aware of, the revelry was a distant sound. Only that damnable laugh – and now a shriller one joined it.

At least everyone else seemed to be having a good time.

The bells began to ring, tolling eleven times before finally falling silent.

Benedict laughed again, but he stopped before it become something pathetic. Eleven o’clock. He wondered if Hunter was looking for him…not that it mattered. He’d ensured he couldn’t do something stupid by secluding himself in his little hideaway. Nor would he leave it except when excessive drinking demanded or well after the stroke of midnight.

His family was going to flay him alive in the morning, but damn it all! The Masque was his one break, his only chance to be something other than the pretty face that did all the backroom finessing.

They weren’t supposed to demand he work during the Masque – that was all he’d ever asked!

Yet now they’d broken that rule, demanding – though they always put on a show of leading and asking – that he charm Lord F tonight, an effort that would climax when F realized the bird seducing him was none other than Prince Benedict.

When his family realized that Lord F was buried in the maze, laughing in his horse-like fashion, with someone else entirely…Benedict felt tired thinking about it. Didn’t he do enough every other day? Could they not leave him alone these brief three?

If he were honest, however, his family was only a small part of the reason he was out here. It was to avoid the hope that Hunter might reappear that he’d run away.

They’d both said farewell. He shouldn’t be this depressed. This pathetic.

It was so much easier to seduce and be seduced when you didn’t actually care – which brought up a question he didn’t feel like facing.

No, the question he should be facing was – had he brought a third bottle? Because the second was woefully empty. Reaching down, he fumbled briefly in the dark before his fingers landed on a bottle that was heavy, full.

Splendid.

He struggled to get it open, and it belatedly occurred to him that perhaps he should have opened them all before he started drinking.

Warm fingers slid over his and neatly took the bottle away.

Benedict blinked at looked up, willing his eyes to see in the weak light of a few colored lanterns. He drew a sharp breath.

“It seems to me, pretty bird, that you’ve had more than enough.” Chuckling softly, Hunter let the bottle slide from his fingers to fall to the grass, then stepped close and tugged Benedict’s head to rest against his stomach, gloved hand sinking into his hair. “Why are you hiding and drinking, pretty bird?”

Benedict nuzzled into the soft velvet of Hunter’s jacket, relishing the warmth emanating from him, and even through the alcohol he could smell every essence of his cologne. “Patchouli, anise, leather, and amber. As intoxicating as ever, Hunter.”

“As talented as ever, pretty bird. You smell of dark musk, roses, and amber.”

Wishing devoutly that his head not picked now to start spinning, Benedict settled for laughing and wrapping his arms around Hunter as best he could. “You said farewell, Hunter. I did not expect to see you again.”

“My impression was that you did not want to see me again,” Hunter replied, voice quiet, soothing, as his fingers continued to stroke through Benedict’s hair. “It took some time to find you, songbird. I was not aware this part of the garden existed…hiding away in your little nest?” He gently tugged Benedict’s head back, forcing him to look up.

“Hardly a nest,” Benedict said, chuckling. “If I went there, they’d find me.” And force him out to show his feathers to Lord F.

The world spun dizzily for a moment and then Benedict realized they were both now seated on the bench, his head on Hunter’s shoulder. “Why did you come back?”

“I meant to stay away,” Hunter replied with a sigh. “I guess you’re too fine a songbird for me to let go.” He laughed briefly. “Though it looks as though I am losing you to the wine. You are not usually so undignified, pretty bird.”

“Hmm….” Benedict closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feel, the sound, the scent of the man holding him. Who was Hunter? Why had they never met before? Would they ever meet without the masks? “I generally only do so in my nest…at this rate you will have me thinking I truly am a bird.”

Hunter laughed hard enough to shake them both.

Benedict breathed in the smell of him, moving so that he could nip the bared throat, take a taste. He heard Hunter hiss in surprise and bit harder. “I wonder who you are, Hunter, that I’ve never noticed you before. Surely I would notice the only person in the palace who seems to share my interest in colognes…”

“My identity does not matter, pretty bird. Besides, it is not yet midnight.”

Slowly, immediately regretting it, Benedict sat up. He frowned at Hunter, but before he could say anything the quiet was shattered yet again by Lord F and his horse laugh. Benedict grimaced in the general direction of the maze. No matter how hard he tried, it would seem he’d not be allowed to forget what he should be doing.

“Who is that?” Hunter asked. “I heard that hideous laugh the entire time I searched for you, and I very nearly stopped to hunt him down and bid him be silent or else.”

Benedict threw his head back and laughed, the dizziness the motion caused more than worth the image of Lord F being ordered ‘to be silent or else’. “That would be Lord F,” he said at last. He meant to stop there, but as he’d learned bitterly and painfully yesterday, something about Hunter made him want to say things he barely was able to say in his own head most days. “Currently I should be the one making him laugh…though if after two hours in the maze all his companion can get from him is laughter, I am not certain which of them I feel more sorry for.”

“The pretty bird chose to fly away instead?” Hunter asked, reaching out to cup his chin in one gloved hand, dragging Benedict close to kiss him softly.

Benedict stared at him, seeing little more than dark eyes and glinting jewels, wishing with everything he had that he knew who his Hunter was, and why he’d never met him before. “The bird does not perform during the Masque, except as he so chooses.”

Hunter flashed a pleased grin. “I like being what you chose, songbird.”

“Yes,” Benedict replied, not exactly sure what he meant but beyond caring as Hunter again took his mouth, the kiss possessive, hungry, nothing like the previous gentle touch.

In the distance, Lord F’s laughter could once again be heard – but even that was drowned out as the bells began to toll.

Benedict felt Hunter stiffen in his arms, but when he would have pulled away, Benedict clung tight and continued to kiss him, gasping in relief when Hunter stayed.

Finally the need to breathe forced them apart, but as Hunter pulled away Benedict reached up and yanked hard at his mask.

“Damn it!”

His world spun, turned upside down, as Hunter shoved him hard, sending Benedict tumbling off the bench, spilling onto the grass. He heard Hunter swear again, then rustling grass turned into boots clicking on tile before he was once more completely alone in the garden.

Benedict slowly pulled himself back up, laughing low and bitterly. He stared at the mask in his hands – green, trimmed with teardrop-shaped amber. It still carried the traces of Hunter’s cologne, a faint hint of his sweat.

“Bastard,” Benedict said softly to the air. “Who are you? Why would you run from me?” He sighed softly and wished he had the energy to resume drinking. “I’ll find you, Hunter.” He held the mask close and breathed in the lingering scents. “I will most definitely find you.”




Rae slammed his door behind him and locked it, then slid down the door to collapse on the floor, burying his face in his hands.

Several minutes later he finally stood. Stripping off his gloves, he threw them down on the small side table beside his chair and immediately poured a brandy. But the smell of alcohol reminded him of the drunken, miserable prince, and swearing loudly he hurtled the full glass into the fireplace.

Let the maids complain. He was beyond caring.

He raked a hand through his hair and then sat to pull of his boots, carefully setting them aside before he gave in to the urge to throw everything into the fire. Except his mask, of course, because he’d been stupid enough to let Benedict take it off. He should have known – a brat, even drunk and miserable, was still a brat.

He hadn’t meant to go back to the prince. He’d only gone to watch Benedict, to see him find someone else when ‘Hunter’ didn’t appear. To assure himself that he was easily forgotten by the prince.

Except Benedict had never made an appearance, and any fool could see that his poorly disguised parents were becoming increasingly annoyed by something.

Unable to help himself, he’d finally begun to hunt down Benedict. Not once, despite the way he’d seen the prince drink the first two nights, had he expected to see him curled up in some forgotten corner of the garden smelling like a vineyard.

Was Benedict that unhappy all the time? The idea didn’t fit with the daylight prince he knew.

Not that it mattered. The Masque was over. Tomorrow everything would well and truly return to normal. He could already sense that he’d be pitching something at Benedict’s foolish head, as a hung over prince was even more aggravating than he was normally.

Damn and blast. The next time he came up with a clever plan he was going to throw himself in a fire. The pain of burning alive would be, by comparison, an amusing tickle.

Rae stood and began to strip off his clothes – but the glint of glass catching the firelight stopped him and he looked toward his bureau. Three bottles sat there, almost as if mocking him. Snarling, Rae stalked across the room and snatched up the first one – then set it back down and propped his elbows on the bureau to bury his face in his hands.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t just go back to acting like everything was normal – yet what choice did he have? Benedict would only hate him more than ever.

He’d have to resign, there was no choice…but the thought of leaving was nearly a physical pain.

Rae tried to recall the last time in his life he’d felt this torn and confused. He realized he never had. “Benedict, you bloody bastard,” he said softly, wearily, as he turned back to his bath, “why couldn’t you stay despicable?”

*~*~*~*

“Confound it, man,” Benedict attempted to glare at Rae. “Would you take your insufferable self off somewhere? I am in no mood to endure your presence this morning.”

Rae glared and set his teacup down with a hard clack, tea sloshing up the sides and only just barely avoiding spilling over. “If you are not in ‘in the mood to endure me,’ Highness, then take yourself elsewhere. Unlike certain over-indulgent fools, I intend to see to my duties – that means I require this office. As you never use it, it would make more sense if you leave.”

“Shut up,” Benedict said with a grimace, holding his head a moment longer before finally forcing himself to move. He poured cream into his tea and lifted the delicate cup, but even the strong, revitalizing aroma of his favorite tea could not banish the effects of too much wine.

He supposed it served him right. The next time he decided to drown his pathetic sorrows, he would have to make sure he did not wake until he’d slept the after effects off. “Is it really only eight thirty?” he asked, setting his tea down after only a sip.

“Yes,” Rae said acidly. “I was certain the world was ending when I saw you awake so early. For a moment I had thought it meant you’d decided to start working.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. “For my part, I foolishly thought the pleasures of the Masque would have a calming effect on you. Get left alone in the maze, dear mortal enemy?”

This time Rae slammed his teacup down hard enough Benedict wondered that it didn’t shatter. Tea splashed over the rim, covering the saucer and dark cream tablecloth. “Go away, Highness. I am in no mood for you today!”

“I’m certain you’ll correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe this is my office and that you are my assistant and if I tell you to leave then you are to obey me and leave this instant!”

Rae sneered. “Of course, Highness, if that is your wish. However, do not try to reprimand me when your reports lie uncompleted and your correspondence goes unanswered. I do think the Duke will be most vexed when you fail to respond to his missive.”

Benedict rubbed his head. “Must you be the bane of my existence, assistant?”

“Must you be the bane of mine?”

“I do believe you started it, mortal enemy.”

“No, Highness, that was you. Obnoxious right from the start, not even a polite greeting before you ordered me to work and wandered off to waste your day!” Rae stood up fast enough he nearly knocked his chair over.

“Perhaps I’d be politer if you did not do your best to be as odious as possible! I have never encountered a man as intolerable as you!”

“Clearly you do not know yourself then!” Rae snarled, all but throwing things across the room as he poured over the desk looking for who knew what.

Benedict made a face at his back. He shouldn’t be as annoyed with Rae as he was – neither of them was any different today than they were every other day. He knew it was only his aching head and the fact that he’d lost his Hunter.

He should never have tried to take the mask. Benedict pressed fingers against his chest, his dark gold-brown waistcoat, feeling the mask tucked away inside it. Truly he felt like the greatest of fools. No doubt ‘Hunter’ was somewhere having a grand laugh at the foolish Prince Benedict. The thought made him cringe. Stupid, that’s exactly what he was.

Still, he hadn’t given up hope entirely. Whether or not Hunter wanted to be found was beside the point – Benedict would find him. Already he’d put his plan in to motion, in a few days something should come to light.

Until then, he’d just take his frustrations out on Rae – who seemed more hostile than ever, though that could be his headache talking. He glared at his assistant.

“I’m not leaving,” Rae said mutinously. “I have work to do. If you cannot bear my presence because of your stupid overindulgence in wine, that is your problem. I will not let my work fall behind because of your stupidity.”

Benedict frowned, something about Rae’s words nagging, but he could not figure out what. Drat it all, he was not in the mood for this today. “Do you ever wake up in a good mood?”

“Why should I?” Rae snapped, slamming down the ledger he’d been perusing. He swiped a stray hair from his face, and it struck Benedict that Rae’s hair was not quite as neat as usual. He hoped that meant the bastard’s night had been a particularly wretched one. “Every morning I wake knowing I have to face you – certainly that does not bring a smile to my face.”

“Then you are welcome to leave!” Benedict snapped, and he swore he could feel his temper shatter. He had enough to deal with – he did not also need someone who so clearly hated him. “Certainly neither one of us wants you here. Take yourself off, then. I’m tired of looking at you, and it’s clear you’ve never enjoyed my presence. Get out and don’t come back.”

He drew a sharp breath at the pain that flickered for the barest moment across Rae’s face – it was almost immediately replaced by a carefully blank expression. “Fine.” Without another word, Rae moved around the desk and stalked toward the door and out of the office. He did not slam the door as Benedict had expected – Rae was nothing if not volatile, part of the reason he loved riling the man – but merely closed it behind him.

Benedict frowned, somehow not feeling as pleased as he thought he should. Both he and Rae would be happier with the damnable man gone. Why did he merely feel more depressed than ever?

Confound it, why did it have to be morning? He wanted a drink; anything that would drown his misery.

He drank his tea without enthusiasm as he pondered whether or not he could sneak back to his room and just hide there for awhile.

A knock on the door rendered the point moot. “Enter,” Benedict snapped. He started as he saw who entered – the royal perfumer, a wizened old gentleman with a nose even sharper than his own. “Matthews,” he said, summoning up what remained of his manners. “I did not expect to see you this soon. Dare I hope you have good news for me?”

“Very good,” Matthews replied. He turned and beckoned to someone still outside, and Benedict stood as a young woman entered – pale blonde hair, pale blue eyes, neat and tidy, obviously middle-class but with quiet pride and confidence in her bearing. “I did not expect to find an answer so quickly, Highness, but a note came almost immediately to my queries. This young woman is Anna Cantrell, and she is an apprentice perfumer in a little shop at the edge of the city. I’ve never heard of it, and I am beginning to think that is a serious failing on my part. Child, tell the prince what you’ve told me.”

Anna nodded hesitantly but stepped forward and bobbed a curtsy. “Highness.”

“You know who created the colognes I am asking after?”

Her lips twitched, amusement sparking in those blue eyes. “I created them, Highness. My brother wrote me a most insistent letter the day before the Masque, requesting I create three blends that he’d contrived. I made a few modifications to them and sent them to him. My brother is quite knowledgeable of the craft, but he lacks the patience for the actual creating.” She laughed softly at some private memory. “I am humbled your Highness asks after them.”

“Who is your brother, sweet?”

Anna hesitated. “Highness, please, he asked me not to tell. Said it was important – neither of us thought I would even be discovered. It is only because of my husband…he dislikes secrets, you see…” She frowned unhappily at the floor.

“It is vitally important you tell me, pet. Please? I do not want to have to make it an order.”

“Yes, Highness,” Anna said quietly. “My brother – stepbrother, actually – is Rae Burroughs.”

Benedict distantly noted she was still speaking, but did not hear the words, his entire head ringing.

Rae.

Impossible…Rae? Assistant Rae? Was Hunter?

He could not wrap his mind around it.

Standing abruptly, his tea spilling as he knocked against the table in his haste, Benedict motioned absently at Anna. “Pay her. See she’s brought here. That sort of talent should not be wasted on a shop at the edge of the city. Do whatever is necessary.” Storming from the room, ignoring the responses called after him, Benedict stormed through the hallways.

He latched onto the first high-ranking servant he saw. “Where is Master Burroughs bedroom?” When the man stuttered and fumbled, Benedict grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close. “I will ask you once more – where is Master Burroughs’s bedroom?”

“East wing, third hallway, second to last on the left, Highness.”

“Thank you,” Benedict said curtly. He strode through the hallways of the palace, ignoring everyone that called to him, snarling at those who tried to stop him. Mercifully, the number of people dwindled as he continued, and when he finally reached Rae’s room there was no one to bother him.

The door was unlocked and he threw it open – but his word died on his lips as he realized the room was empty. Rae was not here.

Benedict started to leave, but fury and curiosity drove him inside.

It was absurd. There was no way his Hunter could be his insufferable assistant. He tried to overlap the two, see where they met…and drew a sharp breath as he realized it wasn’t as inconceivable as he thought.

They were the same height – just shorter than he. The hair and skin could easily be darkened. Matching builds. Even the personalities…confidence, arrogance, a determination to do precisely what he wanted….

Benedict wandered the room. It was simply decorated – dark leathers, deep red rugs, and a few landscape paintings. He paused in front of the bureau, his attention immediately captured by three perfume bottles. They were made of dark red glass, trimmed in gold, each one with a different gold mark to differentiate the scents.

He picked up the first one and pulled the stopper. Immediately the scent of from the first night washed over him – musk, red rose, apple, vanilla, and teak.

His hands trembled as he replaced the stopper and carefully put the bottle back down. He felt dizzy, lost.

Rae was Hunter. The assistant he loathed was the man he’d wanted to never to let go. Pain lanced through him as he wondered why Rae had done such a thing. Had he known the entire time that the ‘pretty bird’ he’d chased was Benedict?

Where the devil was he? He’d finally dismissed the bastard, why wasn’t he here packing his belongings?

Benedict frowned in thought – his head jerked up as an idea came to him. Surely not…

Striding back the way he’d come, glaring everyone down so they did not even attempt communication this time, he blazed through the halls and into the gardens, weaving his way through the winding paths, cutting off sharply to the right as he moved beyond the maze and—

—There he was. Benedict realized he was holding his breath. His chest was heavy, aching.

Rae sat on the bench where they’d both been last night; his face buried in his hands, spectacles neatly tucked away in his jacket. His hair was completely mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it at least a dozen times. He looked every bit as miserable as Benedict felt.

Except he was supposed to be angry. Yes, angry. Focus on that. “Rae.”

Rae’s head jerked up, and Benedict tried to take pleasure in the way his face went stark white. “Highness,” he said roughly, then cleared his throat. It was startling to see Rae stripped of his composure and rage. “Highness. Did you need me to sign off on my dismissal?”

“I would rather know how you came to be here…Hunter.”

He hadn’t thought it possible for Rae to get any paler, but he did. Benedict wondered if he’d pass out. “Why did you do it, Rae? Was it some sort of game?”

Rae looked at him briefly, then his eyes skittered away to focus on the grass. “It started that way. Then everything changed.”

“Changed,” Benedict repeated, voice dripping disbelief.

“Yes, damn you!” That temper he knew so well finally sparked. “I wanted to humiliate you – but then you didn’t act like you were supposed to. I half-thought I had the wrong person that first night. Why couldn’t you remain an obnoxious jerk? Damn you to hell!”

Benedict frowned, rather more at a loss for words than he liked. He could not reconcile Rae with Hunter, despite the fact that they were clearly the same man.

He could see what Rae had been intending. Furious with him, and given to vindictiveness, he could see exactly how Rae would have planned the entire thing. That first night, looking back, he could see that Rae had indeed played him rather perfect. It made him feel sick to think how easily he’d fallen right into Rae’s hands.

A thought distracted him. “Since when do you know anything about perfume?”

Rae laughed bitterly. “My family owns a perfumery along the coast. It’s not extremely well known, but it does well for itself. I have my father’s talent but not the patience.” He glared at Benedict. “When I was assigned to this post, Highness, part of the reason your father chose me was our common interest in such things. You, of course, never gave me a chance to say that. Too busy being lazy and insufferable!”

Benedict opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. “So why do you wear that obnoxious pine stuff?” He knew the answer though – Rae wore it to annoy him. “I found you out through your perfume, you know. Matthews ferreted out your sister.”

“Leave Anna alone!” Rae snarled. He swore softly. “Confound that girl, she was not supposed to go blathering about it.”

“I gave her very little choice,” Benedict said. “So far as leaving her alone – too late. She’s already been hired to work here. I’m not wasting talent like that on some forgotten shop at the edge of the city.”

Rae snorted. “The shop owned by her husband?”

Benedict shrugged. “I told Matthews to handle matters.” He shook his head, realizing they’d wandered completely off topic. “That doesn’t explain you, Rae! I can’t believe—“ It twisted his stomach. He’d actually thought that maybe, just a bit, Hunter had cared. He’d had no reason to return that last night, Benedict had hoped…

“Wine,” he said suddenly. “That’s what nagged me before in the office.” He stepped closer, but stopped just short of being close enough to touch. “You knew I’d drunk too much wine. No one saw me last night – you could have guessed, but most often I drink brandy, which you also well know.”

Rae recoiled.

“So were you just toying with me Rae? Was that all it was?”

“The first night, yes. Not the second…definitely not the third.” Rae stared at the ground, looking tired and worn. “I wasn’t supposed to go back the third.”

“Then why did you?” Benedict asked bitterly.

“Confound it, I don’t know!” Rae stormed to his feet, eyes blazing as he met Benedict’s stare. “We hate each other! The whole palace knows it. The servants – and no doubt the court – have been placing bets for months on whether I would leave or be dismissed. A few have declared blood would be drawn at some point. I planned to seduce you to throw it in your face, I admit it. But the man in the mask was nothing like the prince I regularly want to throttle. This entire mess is your fault!”

“My fault? I’m not the cad who decided it was all right to toy with a man for something as petty as revenge! I should wring your neck.”

Rae laughed in that snotty way that drove Benedict crazy. “So it’s all right for your family to set you to do the hunting, but it’s not all right to be hunted in your turn?”

Silence fell between them, and Benedict wasn’t certain which of them was more horrified by Rae’s words. “Do not speak of that,” Benedict hissed. Bloody hell, why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? He knew why though – he’d always wanted someone to understand him, and he’d stupidly let himself think Hunter might be that someone.

Rae’s face clouded. “I might be a bastard, Highness, but I’m not going to spill your secrets. Anyway, to whom would I tell them? I’ve been dismissed.” He hesitated a moment, then straightened his shoulders and made to move past Benedict.

“Was it really all a farce?” Benedict asked as Rae drew even with him. He kept his eyes on the bench, unable to look at Rae. “How can you be such two different people?”

“I could ask the same of you, Highness,” Rae said cautiously. “The bastard I set out to humiliate was hardly the man I encountered.”

Benedict laughed. “It seems we excel at deceiving each other, dearest mortal enemy.”

Rae grunted. “When we are not attempting to kill one another.”

“Why do we hate each other?” Benedict asked.

“You can never be bothered to tend your duties or even thank those who tend them for you. You’re constantly late, resort to stupid, childish pranks – or did you think I never noticed the extra sugar cubes? – and enjoy making me do all your work.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. “You’re uptight and unbending and have no sense of humor. I don’t think you do anything but work, and instead of greeting me or asking how I am, you immediately start in with accusations.” His lips twitched. “You also wear that wretched pine stuff.” He stopped suddenly, and finally turned to face Rae, who was studiously examining a tree. “You’re not wearing it today.”

“It’s truly wretched,” Rae said, and turned his head to return Benedict’s wary look. “I was in no mood to deal with it today.”

He moved before he thought, dipping his head to Rae’s throat, smelling silk and linen, and beneath it all a salt-sweet scent he would never forget. “It really is you,” Benedict breathed, doubting he’d ever really be able to believe it.

Fingers sank into his hair, the gesture painfully familiar. “Highness, cease. We hate each other. It would take us mere hours to kill each other.” Despite his words, Rae’s grip did not ease.

“Hours?” Benedict laughed. “It usually only takes us minutes on a good day, mere seconds on most.” He gave in to the impulse to taste that skin, still not quite believing that Hunter was Rae.

Rae started at the sharp nip, fingers gripping Benedict’s hair painfully tight. “Highness,” he said, voice strained. “This is foolish…and I do not think your family will permit it – because I do not share.”

That they were even considering the idea made Benedict dizzy. If someone had told him four days ago that his damnable assistant would become his lover, Benedict would have laughed and ordered the speaker from his presence.

Nor would he have ever thought Rae would be the reason he started defying his family.

Fingers once more tightened in his hair, tugging his head up, and then Rae was kissing him and Benedict was really and truly convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Rae was his Hunter.

“Where did someone as uptight as you learn to kiss like that?” he asked when Rae finally let him go.

Rae rolled his eyes. “I haven’t spent my entire life trapped in offices by insufferable princes.”

“The way you behave, I’m certain much of it was spent in cells,” Benedict goaded, unable to resist.

Dark eyes flashed at him in warning, and Benedict was dumbfounded he’d not recognized them for three whole nights – but it had been dark. Surely that was a large part of the reason he’d been so stupidly oblivious. “I am beginning to learn, Highness, that the trick to keeping you bearable is keeping that mouth from speaking.”

“I could say the same of you, assistant.”

“You dismissed me.”

“Did I? I don’t recall doing so.” Benedict smirked, and ducked his head to cut off Rae’s scathing reply with a kiss. It was a bit disconcerting how easy kissing Rae was becoming.

Rae quickly took control of the kiss, and broke it only when the need to breathe took precedence. “You are insufferable.”

“You are unbearable.”

“So long as we’re agreed, Highness, that this is a bad idea.”

Benedict nodded. “We’re definitely going to kill each other – especially if you’re still calling me ‘Highness’ after all this. You’re stuffy to a fault.”

Rae glared at the insult, but then his lips curved in a familiar smirk. “If you insist, pretty bird.”

Shivers ran down Benedict’s spine, to so clearly and blatantly see Hunter in Rae. He wrapped his arms tightly around Rae’s waist, pulling the man flush against him, loving the way Rae’s hand sank possessively into his hair and pulled his head down for another kiss.