The Lost Prince - Sara York Page 0,1

the townsfolk knew him because he hadn’t gone to public school and wasn’t invited to any of the events or parties. His parents hadn’t even allowed him to play at the swimming hole during the summer.

The man’s eyebrows bunched together as he frowned. “Where did you come from?”

The sharp question made Crave pull up. Who was this stranger to question him? Worry filled Crave, twisting around his insides like a worm eating dirt. Had this man seen him come out of the ground? If Iris or Bran found out, he would be kicked off their property. He’d been so careful, never coming out when others were around. Shit, he’d fucked up.

“I was just out walking,” he snapped. “Besides, it isn’t any of your business where I was or where I’m going.”

For a second, Crave worried the man would do something like hit him or, worse, arrest him. Iris had told him horror story after horror story of how the government punished people who had mutated and used those alterations without permission. Was this man part of the government unit who captured mutants like him? He wasn’t a royal, that much he knew, so his affliction wasn’t a superpower. He was just a weirdo who had something like a disease, and the government hated people like him. They would lock him up, hold him in a room until he starved to death, or worse, put him on display, shackled to a wall, and toss tomatoes at him until he died from exposure to the elements.

The guy stared at him, his eyes narrowing seconds before he reached up and plucked a leaf from Crave’s hair. “What’s this, then?”

Crave leaned in and studied the leaf, his throat drying out as fear increased. If he let this stranger see his unease, it would all be over with.

“It’s oak, I think. You know, a leaf from an oak tree.” He glanced up, meeting the guy’s gaze. Though he wanted to run, he pressed on, increasing the snark level. “Trees have these little things on them that fall sometimes. It’s not a problem for the tree. Kind of like hair from your head. Those fall out all the time, which I can see you’re acquainted with the phenomenon.”

A growl spewed from the man before he spoke. “I’m not going bald.”

“Touchy. Fascinating. So, why are you here speculating on my exploits? Don’t you fellows have more pressing matters at hand? Like watching those people who are actually breaking the law?”

The guy frowned, setting his mouth in a harsh line. “You talk weird.”

“It’s how I speak? Aren’t I supposed to be formal around you types? You are from the capital, right?”

The man’s lips turned down deeper, making him look much older as wrinkles broke out across his face. “We have reports of—” the man huffed out a breath. “Never mind. What are you doing out here again?”

“Walking. You know, putting one foot in front of the other. It comes in handy when you want to go somewhere or when you want to ponder life’s great mysteries.” Crave flashed a smile then tried to move around the guy, but the man’s hand clamped down on Crave’s arm. A sizzle zipped through Crave, and he tried to ignore it, but the buzz intensified, taking his breath. The intensity grew with each second, trapping him in place.

Distraction would get him locked up. He couldn’t allow this asshole to know what he was doing or why. Crave jerked his arm from the guy’s hold but didn’t run. This man caused something inside Crave to twist up like a towel being wrung out. He wanted the touch again. He stared into the guy’s bright blue eyes, seeing the spark he felt, too. The man had experienced the same rush.

Crave wanted to lean in and brush his lips against this stranger’s mouth and see what excitement happened. He’d only been kissed once by one of Amethyst’s friends. That had been weird and disturbing, mainly because he’d been too young to even know what was happening. And it had been with a girl. Now with this man standing in front of him, smelling like soap and evergreen and something else he couldn’t name, he knew without a doubt he wanted a man in his arms, not a woman.

“If you hear of anything fishy, I need you to contact me. Here’s my card. I’m Devin. What’s your name?”

Crave stared at the card, thinking this government man, no matter how desirable he was, knowing his name would