My Royal Hook-Up. Riley PineЧитать онлайн книгу.
this alone,” I say.
She laughs, pushing up on her elbows to look down at me. “You’d starve eventually.”
“It would be worth it,” I tell her, then give her one long, slow lick.
She fists the duvet, then collapses onto her back as she writhes against my lips.
“We’re never leaving this room,” she says.
“As you wish, Princess.” And slip one finger inside her, then two, as I suck her swollen clit between my lips.
She bucks and thrashes, and I have no choice but to drive her the rest of the way home, taking immense pleasure in doing so.
“Damien!” she calls out as I do, and I realize there is no sound better than my name tearing from her lips.
I slide my hand free and crawl over her limp yet satiated frame, admiring the blissful smile spread across her face.
I put that there.
I lean down to kiss her, but before my lips reach hers, the bedroom door bursts open, wood splintering as six men rush into the room.
The Nightgardin Royal Guard, better known as the Black Watch.
Juliet screams as two of the men haul her from the bed. It takes the other four to restrain me. Even then, they’re barely able to do it. My fight-or-flight reaction takes hold, and all I know is I will fight for this woman.
“Damien!” she screams, and I seethe as I watch her naked form being dragged toward the elevator.
“You fucking bastards,” I hiss at my captors, but they say nothing. “Juliet!” I call after her, our eyes meeting as another waiting guard wraps her in a throw from the sofa. “I will come for you!”
She opens her mouth to respond, but one of the guards covers it with a less-than-gentle hand. She struggles against his grip. When the guard swears and snatches his hand away, I grin.
She’s bitten him.
But my joy is short-lived, because they are in the elevator now, the doors already closing.
“Damien!” she cries one last time.
“I swear it, Juliet! I’ll find you!” I yell just as the doors seal and she slips from view, and I know now that I was wrong. My name tearing from her lips in abject terror will haunt me for the rest of my life.
One of my captors punches me in the face before I can completely register that she’s gone.
Then the truth of it all sinks in. They aren’t just here to take Juliet to the king and queen of Nightgardin.
They’re here to kill me, and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it, not that there would be any point. I’ve committed an act of treason, one I knew was punishable by death. Yet I was fool enough to think that whatever connection Juliet and I forged would be stronger than the law.
Two of the guards pin my arms behind my back, but I no longer struggle as the two men before me trade punches in quick succession. A rib breaks. Maybe two or three. One of my eyes swells shut, and a fist to the jaw makes me bite through my tongue.
My mouth fills with blood. None of the guards say a word as they continue what they were sent here to do. All the while I replay Juliet’s screams in my head, the promise I made to come for her already broken.
Finally, my arms are freed, and I collapse to my knees. I cough, and blood sprays the floor.
One of the guards raises a rifle and aims the butt of it at my head.
“You better fucking kill me,” I say, my voice thick and wet. “Otherwise I will be back, and I’ll make every single one of you pay for what you did to your very own princess.”
The guard with the gun laughs in my ruined face and whispers something in my ear. Then the entire world goes dark.
Juliet
Two months later
“Well, well, well,” I mutter to myself. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Outside the window, the towers and parapets of Edenvale Palace come into view. Across the blue moat rise huge statues of heroes and kings, marbled memories of past glories.
“Sorry, miss. I didn’t catch that.” The driver I hired at the border glances in the rearview mirror, tugging one side of his long, walrus-like mustache. I can tell he recognizes me but that he doesn’t know from where. I have hidden my chocolate-brown waves under an Hermès scarf tied in a jaunty bow at my chin. My beige trench coat is expensive camel hair but unremarkable other than its elegant cut.
“I said, Goodness. Here we are.” I set my hand on the small suitcase on the seat beside me. “Is the servants’ entrance close?”
“Right around the corner, miss,” he says before giving me another searching look. “Who is it you are going to visit again?”
“My cousin Dora,” I lie. “She’s been a maid at the royal court for five years.”
“A Nightgardin maid? Working at the court?” he says, incredulous.
Blast! My accent has betrayed me in ways my hair never would.
I think fast. “Theodora, or Dora as we like to call her, was born in Rosegate.” Rosegate is the disputed city between our two long-feuding kingdoms. “Right next door to me, in fact.”
“Hmm, you’re from Rosegate too, eh?” The driver clicks his tongue. But he hasn’t called me out on the lie. He can’t, because people from both of our kingdoms reside in that ancient town. “Well, miss. I do hope you enjoy your stay at the royal palace. Folks say it’s gone a bit peculiar of late.”
“Oh?” I try to sound interested, but not enough to attract attention. In reality, I am starving for any scrap of information about—
“Damien,” the man says, finishing my thought. “The black sheep prince has returned from his years banished into the wilderness. Everyone is being quite tight-lipped about it. But my sister, Jenny, works in the kitchen, and she says that he has gone mad. I don’t like speaking ill of the Lorentz family, God keep His Majesty, but that youngest boy was born as bad as they come.”
Memories wash over me. Damien’s confident yet gentle hands claiming my body, making me burn, making me his. In our stolen days together, it was as if we were placed in France’s Large Hadron Collider, two particle beams thrust together at the speed of light. Of course the results were volatile. I was naive to have expected anything else. I see that now.
Damien was removed by Nightgardin guards as I was dragged away to my parents.
But...he said he would come for me. Swore it, even. Those were his last words as I was taken away.
He never came.
Perhaps the challenge seemed too great.
Perhaps I wasn’t worth the effort to him.
The king and queen could have hanged me. Instead they hastened plans for the wedding—to tomorrow. So naturally, I ran away. Again. But this time I did not bother with any sort of lie. It wouldn’t have mattered. I’ve been under lock and key ever since that weekend, every meal taken either with the king and queen or alone in my chamber. Each night my governess watched me place a sleeping tablet on my tongue—and each night when she left me, I retrieved the tablet from under my tongue and sent it down the toilet.
Last night when Elsie, the serving girl, brought my teapot, I asked that she join me. And because a servant cannot refuse a royal, Elsie drank a cup, but not before I distracted her and poured in two crushed sleeping tablets.
Soon after, I escaped out the window. No handsome prince climbed my tower and saved me. I did it myself.
My hand settles over my belly, still flat. No sign of the secret inside.
Maybe I fell fast and hard for a prince