My Royal Surrender

by Riley Pine

  * * *

  Despite how many hours behind her I am, the blinking green dot doesn’t move. And then I reach her at the Pont des Arts over the Seine. Our favorite place in the world.

  “If I wasn’t here,” she says when she sees me approach, “would you have changed your mind? Killed me next time you saw me?”

  I shake my head. “You betrayed the Order,” I say. “But you didn’t betray me. That means I can still save you.”

  She huffs out a breath. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” she says, “I don’t need saving.”

  I close the distance between us and pull her to me.

  “Fine,” I tell her in a soft voice. “But maybe I do.”

  I grab her hand and lead her to the other side of the bridge.

  She comes with me willingly.

  When we get to the street, the Rolls limousine is waiting.

  Lora gasps. “This is where I had you meet me for our first anonymous get-together.”

  I nod. “There are silk blindfolds inside. For old times’ sake. Seemed a nice touch, don’t you think?”

  “What about Peter Cain?” she asks. “You’re giving up on him? You know I’ll never willingly lead you to him.”

  I laugh, then wrap an arm around her. I tuck her hair behind her ear and lean in to whisper, “Who said anything about willingly?” As I feel the shiver run through her, I press the thin adhesive to the skin behind her lobe.

  Toss the gun in the river, I think to myself. I’ll never lose you now.

  We climb inside, and I fasten her blindfold over her eyes.

  “Don’t wear yours,” she says hesitantly. “For the years that I knew and you didn’t, keep me in the dark while you know the whole truth.”

  She doesn’t need to ask twice. I place a palm on each of her knees and push them open.

  “I have my own brand of truth serum,” I tell her, then slide a hand up her thigh until my fingertips press along the line of her folds beneath her pants.

  She licks her lips as I admire how swollen she is. I can see her body opening before my eyes, softening, begging for my affection.

  “Do your worst, Agent X,” she says.

  I knock on the vehicle’s privacy divider, and the limo starts to move, navigating the Parisian traffic.

  I chuckle. “Oh no, no, no, love. I always do my very best.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Z

  I’M PLAYING A dangerous game, but no matter, it’s one that I mean to win.

  This man beside me is a liability, but as I sped my motorcycle through the tunnel beneath the English Channel, I decided that like it or not, I’d have to factor Max into any future equation. Because even as I put kilometers between us, I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

  It turns out that while I’m a masterful liar, I can’t fool myself.

  He is my weakness, so I have to try to survive my passion.

  And it’s a heady freedom to throw caution to the wind, when most of my steps are so calculated, every risk assessed, and assessed again.

  X is the category-five hurricane in my insular world, blowing apart my defenses and leaving me exposed.

  And right now, he seems intent on exposing me.

  He eases me onto my back and works my pants and thong from my hips. I curl my fingers into the limo’s black leather seat as he spreads the softest part of me open with his thick, callused fingers. Anticipation grips me as I wait for a stroke or a lick.

  But nothing comes.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, my question ragged.

  “Looking.”

  “At what?” Good lord, I’m beginning to squirm.

  “At the most perfect pussy that’s ever been or will ever be.”

  “I bet you tell that to all the women.” I moisten my lips. He’s had his fair share of lovers over the years. I know this, and even though it’s irrational I hate each one. I hate everyone he’s ever touched that wasn’t me.

  “No. I don’t,” he says flatly. “Do you know how much you haunted me over the years? I felt like I searched for what I had with you over and over and over. But I never got close. Hell, I never got in the same ballpark.”

  “If you want me to apologize, you’re going to be disappointed.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. You like to play games. And I can see from the way this sweet wet honey slicks your clit that you like me near you. But if you want to be rewarded with my affections, I need something in return.”

  “Ooh. Do tell. I love a good quid pro quo. Is it another sixty-nine? It is my lucky number.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid this will be more straightforward. I want information. You give me an answer and I’ll give you...”

  I moan as he taps my clit, jutting my ass forward.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Fuck you,” I grind out, annoyance burning a hole in my belly. “I’m not playing that game. Tell that queen you love so much she can fuck off, too.”

  He growls his own annoyance. “I told you as plain as I can. I’ve only ever had the misfortune to love one woman. And right now, she’s a little tied up.”

  He’s got my wrists bound over my head in an instant.

  I make a show of wiggling. It’s a good strong knot. Not enough to keep me contained, but enough I’d have to work to free myself.

  “I don’t want information for the Order, my love. I want information for me and me alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a lot of gaps in your history. Fill in a few.”

  I buck my hips up, taunting him with my bare sex, knowing the sight of my soaked folds will drive him wild. “I would rather you filled me.”

  “Question one,” he breathes in my ear, and behind my blindfold my eyes roll back into my head. “Who were your parents?”

  I freeze. A question that I don’t expect.

  There is no way he can know the truth.

  Except this is Max.

  “Go on,” he whispers, a slight taunt amid the gravel. “You know I suspect.”

  “Tom and Portia. They died in a boat accident.”

  He settles his weight over me, and it’s goddamn delicious. Again his hand creeps between my legs, skimming my inner thighs.

  “And they were also Agents Alpha and Omega, weren’t they? Leaders in the Order, credited along with Queen Cordelia for bringing the group into the modern day and making it relevant again.”

  “How did you know?” I rasp. “No one knows. I hacked into the system and destroyed their files after their deaths, just like they instructed. There is no record. I am sure of it. They had wanted to guarantee I was protected and could never be tied to them.”

  “I remember.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I was there.”

  “That’s impossible. I was alone in their cottage. You were gone. You’d disappeared months before.”

  I don’t talk about my parents. I don’t think about my parents. Their deaths ended my childhood, and while I know they never wanted this life for me, it was the only way that I could have closure. That I could move forward.

  He stills and rests his forehead lightly against my own.

  “I know because I was there when they died.”

  The world stops.

  “What? That’s impossible. You never met them.”

  “I was undercover. My first assignment with the Order. I was part of a pirate ring with links throughout eastern Africa. My captain had taken a hostage, a wealthy businessman whose family threatened to create a war to return. Your parents were to pick up the hostage and head out via boat, but we were betrayed. There was a shootout. Your father died instantly, but your mother...hell, Lora. I didn’t know she was your mother. The hostage survived, barely, and I blew up m
y ship, taking him through the water to your parents’ vessel. Your mother was alive, Lora. And I held her as she left. And that’s when she told me about her beautiful daughter. The light of her world. Her sweet princess. And when she said your name, I knew. It was you.

  “I went to find you. To comfort you. But you’d left Frasier Academy. And so I went to your parents’ home. You were there. Deleting files. Burning records in the hearth.”

  “You watched my pain and said nothing?”

  “There was a cost to me.” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “It killed me. A part of me died that day. But I realized as I watched you that I wanted you to have a chance to be free. That I had to turn my back on you because I’d sworn an oath to the Order. And I didn’t want that world for you any more than your mother did. You were so smart, Lora. Scratch that, you are so smart. Much smarter than me. You could have been in politics or the UN. A professor. Anything that would have kept you safe from this life.”

  “I’m not safe and I’m sure as hell not sweet.” I wrap my thighs around his hips and bite his lip so hard I draw blood. “I hate you for telling me this.”

  “I know.”

  “I love you for wanting to protect me.”

  “I know.”

  I seethe in frustration, my buttocks tense. “You are an arrogant bastard.”

  “I know.” This time he chuckles, though, a deep, musical rumble that draws me into an unwilling smile.

  “Why did you ask me a question you knew the answer to?”

  “I wanted to see if you’d lie.”

  “I’m a good liar.”

  “We’ll see.” He takes a ragged breath. “I have a few more questions. But first, I think you earned a reward.”

  X

  I push her knees open.

  She squirms on the leather seat. I know she’s humoring me by keeping her wrists bound, but the fact that she is playing along means she wants to, well, play.

  I slide my hands up her silky thighs until my thumbs rest in the crease where legs meet pelvis. Up and down I stroke along the natural lines, so close to where she begs to be touched but not touching her yet.

  She whimpers, and I relish the sound. “Why the fuck are you teasing me?”

  I smile. “It’s not teasing, love. It’s appreciation of every angle and curve, every line and crease of your unbelievable body.” I skim up and under her sweater, hissing in a breath when I find her braless, too. “Like this,” I say, tracing the half-moon of the underside of her breast. “This beautiful shape that is all you, only you, and mine.” I pinch her hardened peak. “Tell me you’re mine, Lora.”

  She sucks in a breath. “Yours,” she says, breathless. “Only yours.”

  I lift her sweater over her head and watch her skin pebble. I take her nipple into my mouth, swirl my tongue around it, then pull back and blow softly.

  Her spine arches.

  “Max, you bastard. Fuck me before I break free of your pathetic knots and knock you out again.”

  I laugh. “You’re terrible at bluffing when you’re out of your mind with need.” I rub a finger over the bump at my temple. “You’d never leave me before I satisfied you. And don’t forget that I let you get away before.” I slide a hand between her legs, running one finger between her warm, slick folds. She pushes her pelvis against my touch as she hums a soft moan. “I should have killed you, and I didn’t.”

  “And now?” she asks, her voice thick with desire.

  “Now you’re to lead me to Price or Cain or whoever the hell he is.”

  I enter her with one finger, then two, and she cries out, throwing her head back against the seat.

  “And if I don’t cooperate?”

  I add a third finger to let her know I’m serious, and she bucks against my palm.

  “Just—cooperate, Lora.”

  The Order before everything else, I chant in my head. It’s the mantra drilled into us during early training—beaten into us when we fuck up. All for the good of the world, the safety of humankind. We sacrifice so others don’t have to.

  So if it comes down to it and Lora compromises the mission, I will have to do what I’ve been trained to do.

  She rides my hand, fucks it as I pump my fingers inside her. I tease her wet, swollen clit with my thumb and she lets loose a feral growl. It’s then that I slide out from inside her and reluctantly pull away.

  She twists and turns and moans. “What the fuck are you doing, Max?”

  “It’s time for another question,” I say.

  Her jaw tightens and her teeth clench. “Fuck you.”

  I grin. “Oh, sweetheart, I plan to. But not just yet. Not until you cooperate.”

  She groans. “I hate you.”

  I laugh. “I see you tread that thin line as often as I do. Now, if you want me to tend to that aching pussy of yours, all you have to do is tell me where you’re supposed to meet up with Price, and we’ll get back to the business at hand.”

  “He’ll kill you the second he sees you,” she says. “Don’t you get it? All he’s ever done—all he’s worked for has been because of you.”

  I lean in and bite the lobe of her ear. She gasps.

  “Don’t you mean,” I whisper, “because of you? Because no matter how many times you tell him—no matter how many times you bed him—deep down he knows you never loved him. You’re a good actor, Lora. But you can’t fake what we have.”

  I glance up to see her wriggling free of her ties, so I buy myself more time by yanking them tighter. I kiss the skin she’s rubbed raw on her wrists in her attempted escape.

  “Where is he, Lora? You wouldn’t have come to Paris, to our place, without him nearby. If you miss your rendezvous, he’ll be suspicious, no? So let’s not keep our old friend waiting.”

  She groans, but I can hear the sliver of defeat in her voice. And a sliver is all I need.

  “There is a café around the corner called Très Bon. Behind it, down a small staircase, is a door that will lead you to what you’re looking for.” She sighs. “Jesus, Max. Don’t get killed.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t plan on it, but just in case, I think I’d like to enjoy my last meal.”

  I spread her knees wide and bury my face between her thighs, lapping her wet, aching sex from bottom to top, my tongue lingering on her throbbing clit.

  In a fraction of a second, her hands are free, her fingers tangling in my hair as she kicks off her shoes and wriggles out of her pants completely. She throws her legs over my shoulders and my brain melts.

  “That’s my girl,” I say, shoving my hands beneath her and gripping her gorgeous ass for purchase.

  I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. But if I do, it’ll be with the taste of Agent Z lingering on my lips. Not a fucking bad way to go.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Z

  AFTER I SHATTER into a million pieces, I try to recover my focus. Not easy when I’m well aware Max seems to want a full meal.

  But the time for pleasure must be paused, at least for now. My mission isn’t over.

  First, Max asked questions. But not the right ones.

  He doesn’t understand why Peter Cain hates him so much. Does Max believe a criminal mastermind rose to power simply to get revenge on him for a rugby injury? Max seemed to take it in stride.

  I have to admit; I’m impressed.

  Second, he thinks I’ve bedded Peter.

  God, the very thought makes my skin crawl, but I can’t convince him otherwise. Not now. He’d assume I’m lying.

  But I need to get him to see the truth before the final showdown.

  It’s the only way we will make it out alive.

  “We have to talk,” I say.

  “I see.” He helps me put my clothes to rights. “You’ve gotten yours and now you want to say your piece.”

  “Don’t you
see? I want peace.”

  He arches a brow.

  “I want out, X. I want to leave the Order. You know my parents were in deep. My whole life has been lived with an invisible ax over me. I’ve done my time. I’ve done damn good work. But I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not when I’ve never had a chance to live on my own terms.” I take a deep breath. “Or to love on my own terms.”

  His other brow rises to meet the first.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why Dante Price, aka Peter Cain, hates you so much?”

  “He was jealous of me? He wanted you?” Max shrugs, arrogant to his core. “Who cares? The why of it never really worried me. He’s an entitled ass.”

  “The why should have made you wonder.” I tie the silk blindfold around my neck as a scarf. “The why is the reason.”

  “Are you going to speak in riddles all day?”

  I gape at him. For such a smart man, he can be woefully thick. His blind spot on this issue is the size of the black hole at the dark center of our galaxy. He is so perceptive except for when it comes to himself. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “Damn it, Lora. No idea of what? I’m still trying to comprehend you walking away from the Order. For the last time, spit it out.”

  His command is punctuated by a loud crash that sends us both flying to the floor of the limo, a tangle of limbs.

  “Rear-ended,” I gasp, my rib cage aching. I evaluate my body. Nothing is broken, thank goodness.

  “That was no accident.” X pulls a gun from a hidden holster.

  “No.” My mouth presses into a grim slash. There are never coincidences in our line of work.

  There’s a staccato pop of gunfire ahead and a cry. That must be the driver. None of the bullets puncture the bulletproof glass.

  “You tipped off Price.” Max gives me a cool dead-eyed stare.

  I bristle. “Of course not.”

  He is every ounce an agent of the Order. This is the man who stands at the wall, protects the world even if it means he must be ruthless in turn. “Give me one good reason to trust you.”

  “Max. Love.” There is no way to say it except to say it. “Peter Cain is your brother.”