The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  There aren’t enough rooms for all the patients. Gurneys line the walls with the sick and injured. Nurses and doctors and family members brush shoulders as they try to navigate through the chaos. My two bodyguards do their best to shield me by using their big bodies as barricades.

  “It’s true. Everything is great.” Except for my marriage. I’m legally bound to a man who regards me as an employee. The pain of rejection sours in my stomach. I fake a smile. “Come on. We only have a few more to see and then we can go home.”

  “Yes.” He checks the time on his Rolex. “Your husband will have us beheaded if he—”

  Two pops like firecrackers make me flinch. Fragments of plaster explode next to my head. Stunned silence blankets the corridor before mayhem erupts. Screams of panic assault my ears. A heavy body knocks me to the linoleum floor. Two more pops. I flail and claw, fighting my way to fresh air. Three pairs of strong hands grab me. I’m half-carried, half-dragged through the nearest exit. Nicky joins us within seconds. We run through a maze of corridors and burst outside. I blink against the bright daylight. My car squeals around the corner of the building. The tires screech as the driver halts in front of us. The door opens, and we’re shoved inside. The bodyguards follow us. I’m trapped between two big men.

  “Jesus.” Nicky’s pale and sweating on the seat across from me. He rocks onto one hip. A dark stain spreads over the seat of his trousers. “I think I’ve been shot.”

  31

  Henry

  “Where is she?” I’ve asked the question a thousand times and gotten a thousand unacceptable answers. “I demand to be taken to her.”

  “We can’t jeopardize your safety.” Shasta is the only person brave enough to face my wrath.

  “You’re better off here.” Sven repeats the answer, knowing how much it displeases me. It’s times like these that I hate my status.

  “How does something like this happen?” My footsteps echo on the smooth stones of the Grand Hall as I pace from one end to the other. It’s been over an hour with no word. The lack of communication is killing me. If anything happens to her, I’ll die. She means more to me than this palace. “Someone had better get me answers. Now.” My voice roars up to the rafters.

  “From what I’ve gathered, she persuaded a few of the servants to aid her in sneaking off the grounds. They’ve grown quite fond of her and are willing to go to extreme lengths to make her happy.”

  I’ve never felt so powerless. There’s nothing I can do except pace and shout and worry my head off. I shove a hand through my hair, unable to contemplate the possibility of a life without her. Mornings without her sleepy smile. Her soft kitten cries right before she orgasms. The way she brightens a room just by crossing the threshold. And her fire—I need her smart mouth to keep me humble in a world that caters to my every whim. Please, God, let her be okay. Let her be okay. I speak the prayer over and over in my head. If she survives this, I’ll never let her out of my sight again.

  “Sir, perhaps you should take a seat.” Shasta hovers at my side. Lines of worry crease her forehead.

  “Why was she at the hospital?” I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the threads of a migraine weaving between my temples.

  “A few weeks ago, she requested your permission to visit the pediatric cancer patients. When you didn’t respond, she probably took matters into her own hands, sir.” The merest hint of admiration glimmers in Shasta’s expression. At my glare, she quickly shutters her feelings.

  “What request? I don’t remember any proposals on the topic.” One of the footmen arrives with a tray of tea, because in our world, tea solves all problems. I shoo him away with a scowl.

  “I distinctly remember going over all of Princess Everly’s requests with you.” It’s the first time Shasta has ever contradicted my recollection. “You denied all of them.”

  “All of them?” Surely, she’s mistaken. “Are you certain?” Shasta nods. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. No wonder Everly has been cold. My absence at her meeting yesterday probably sent her over the edge. I groan, overwhelmed by my many shortcomings as a husband. She’s thrown herself into palace life, assuming the role of royal consort, and been rewarded with my indifference.

  “Your Majesty, they just passed through the east gate and should be arriving in the courtyard as we speak.” Sven stands near one of the windows, phone to his ear.

  “I want every person involved in this travesty fired.” If only I could punch something or someone, I might feel better.

  The double doors open. Everly walks into the room. A dozen conflicting emotions explode inside me. I reach her in a half-dozen long strides and crush her to my chest. Part of me wants to beat her ass for scaring me, the rest of me melts at the softness of her body against mine. Her fingers curl into the back of my jacket. I bury my nose in her hair, treasuring the sweet scent of her shampoo. “You scared the life out of me. Are you hurt?”

  “No. I’m okay.” Her voice shakes.

  I hold her at arm’s length. Her makeup is unsmudged. Every auburn hair is captured by a sleek French twist at the back of her head. Aside from a bruise on her knee, she seems in perfect health. “Sven said someone was shot.”

  “It was Nicky.” She buries her face in my lapels. “What about the others? The hospital staff? The patients? Are they okay?”

  “Yes, love. Everyone is fine.” It’s so like her to be worried about the others before herself.

  “We need to make sure they have access to counselors—in case anyone is traumatized.” Tears shine in her eyes. “This is all my fault.”

  “Hush.” I hold her closer, pressing kisses to her temples, relishing the warmth of her body and the reassuring beat of her pulse. I’ll never let her out of my sight again. Confusion fills the blue depths of her eyes. A rush of gratitude sweeps over me—gratitude for her continued existence when I’m so undeserving of her. I sweep a finger along the curve of her cheek before drawing her chin toward mine. Our lips meet in the sweetest of kisses. The contact quickly escalates from casual to desperate.

  Someone clears his throat. I don’t care who’s watching, about protocol, or the impropriety of gripping her ass in my hands. I raise my head long enough to dismiss the staff. “Everyone out. I need a few minutes with my wife.” Footsteps fade into the distance as Shasta and the others leave the room. The doors creak shut. When we’re alone, I drag her into a second bear hug. “Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me? That’s an order.”

  * * *

  EVERLY

  Henry’s distress catches me off-guard. His lips caress every inch of my face. Large hands cup my jaw. The possessiveness in his touch contradicts his previous behavior. I shove aside my confusion to dissect later. Right now, the security of his embrace steadies the tremors running through my body.

  “You scared me.” His arms steal around my waist again. We’re silent for a dozen heartbeats. “Damn it, Everly. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. But those children, they need our help, Henry. I promised to go, and I couldn’t disappoint them.” I grip his shoulders to emphasize my point. His eyes study mine, seeing deeper into my soul than I thought possible. “I was careful. It was a secret visit with no photographers. No one knew. No one but Olga and my security.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that you can trust no one?” The volume of his voice rises with each word. By the rising tide of color rushing up his neck, his temper is rising also. He runs both hands through his short hair, ruffling the ends. “If you’d listened, none of this would have happened.”

  “I know.” The words sting. He’s absolutely right. My desire to disobey his decree overruled my common sense. Because of me, Nicky has been wounded and the safety of the children was jeopardized.

  “Security will have questions for you.” His dark lashes lower over his eyes, shielding his thoughts. When he opens them, the quiet fury in their depths sends a shiver of fear down my back. “
When they’re done with you, go upstairs and wait for your punishment.”

  After a million questions from the investigators, I return to our apartment. I pace about the room. The staff stays out of sight. I’m sure the news of His Majesty’s displeasure rocketed around the palace before my feet hit the stairs. I wonder what he has in store for me? The recollection of his sweet words stirs butterflies in my stomach. Their wings are kept alight by a rush of anxiety over his anger.

  To calm my nerves, I pour a glass of his favorite scotch and sip. The strong liquor fills me with false courage. What’s the worst thing he could do? Lock me up? Spank me? It would be more of a reward than a punishment. The next answer chases away the heat of the whiskey. He could divorce me.

  Anxiety constricts the muscles of my chest, squeezing until my heart wants to burst. Why does the idea bother me so much? We’re incompatible. He’s a domineering alpha, and I’m his worst nightmare. We’ve fought constantly since the wedding. The arguments don’t bother me. It’s the idyllic moments in between. They’re sprinkled throughout the days like diamonds among gravel. Late night sex marathons, shared smiles, stolen kisses…I’ve come to look forward to these things and a dozen more.

  I don’t want to go. The truth blindsides me. The thought of watching the castle turrets—and Henry—disappear through the back window of an automobile brings the sting of tears to my eyes. When I think about how far I’ve come since arriving, I can’t believe it. My former Manhattan life seems like a faded, distant dream compared to the vibrant color of my marriage to Henry. I can’t go back. I’m not that girl anymore.

  The grandfather clock continues its incessant ticking, counting down the minutes until Henry arrives. To distract myself, I change into a tight, pink dress more suitable for a nightclub than a royal palace, a garter belt and stockings, and let my hair fall in waves down my back. While I’m touching up my makeup, I rehearse my plea. Hopefully, he’ll be too distracted by my short hemline and show of cleavage to stay angry for long. Using my body to distract him is a sleazy tactic, but I’m desperate.

  By the time I hear his familiar footsteps in the foyer, my nerves are frayed. He strides into the living room. I press my palms together in front of me before blowing out a cleansing breath. The trajectory of his gaze sweeps from my head to the tips of my nude stilettos and back again. By the time his eyes reach mine, my nipples protrude through the thin fabric. He unthreads his cufflinks, tosses them into a bowl on the credenza, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. The gesture is male and slightly threatening.

  “How’s Nicky?” I ask, cringing at the way my voice cracks on the question.

  “He’s complaining to anyone who’ll listen, harassing the nurse, and basking in the attention.” To my shock, his tone is pleasant and casual. Not at all what I expected. He unbuckles his belt then tugs the length of leather through the loops on his trousers. “It was just a scratch. No stitches. Just an antibiotic and a bandage. He’ll be good as new in a few days.”

  My relief over Nicky is tempered by the thwack of Henry’s belt against his palm. The rush of adrenalin lifts the tiny hairs on my forearms. I walk in reverse until my rear end hits the back of the sofa. He stalks forward. When his toes meet the tips of mine, he bends down until the heat of his breath burns my temple. “Bedroom. Now.”

  The knot in my throat renders swallowing difficult. “Aren’t we going to talk?” When his eyebrows lower in a glare, I lift my chin. I don’t want him to know how nervous—and turned on—I am. His footsteps ghost mine as I retreat to his room. I sit on the bed and grip the edges of the mattress.

  “I’m going to talk. You’re going to listen.” He snaps the belt between his hands. My palms begin to sweat.

  “I don’t want a divorce.” The declaration bursts out before I can stop it.

  The top of his blond head tilts to one side. “Who said anything about divorce? You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you off the hook that easy.”

  A glimmer of hope shines through his words. I moisten my lips. He drags a chair over to the bed. The fabric of his trousers tightens around his thighs as he lowers into the chair. With his elbows resting on his knees, he’s at my eye level. I feel like a child in the principal’s office. He drops the belt to smooth his palms up the outside of my legs, beneath the hem of my dress. His touch stutters over the straps of the lace garter belt. He pushes my dress up to my hips, exposing the tops of my stockings and the matching silk triangle of my panties. Using his thumb and forefinger, he snaps one of the elastic straps against my skin.

  “Before you yell at me, I want you to know that I’m willing to accept responsibility for my part in today’s incident. Nicky had nothing to do with it. In fact, he only went along because he was worried about me.” The confession tumbles out of my mouth. “But you can’t blame me for taking matters into my own hands. You’ve ignored all of my requests, canceled my meetings, and been a general ass from day one.”

  “Enough.” His graceful fingers yank on the tails of his striped tie. He folds it in half once then twice. “I get to go first, remember? You’re terrible at following directions.”

  “I know.” To stop myself from saying more, I draw my lower lip between my teeth.

  “First of all, I signed the approval for your health care proposals this morning. I don’t need a presentation to support the cause. Your good opinion is enough for me. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about missing the meeting.” As he speaks, he draws a wooden box from beneath the bed, lifts the lid, and rummages through the contents. “If you had been patient, I would have told you that. Instead, you went rogue.” I open my mouth to ask questions, but he shushes me with a finger to my lips. “Not until I’m done, my love.”

  My heart beats faster, accelerated by his good deed and the nipple clamps he just laid on the bed beside my knee. Gratitude replaces my anxiety. A revision of health care laws will benefit the entire nation. Nipple clamps are another matter altogether.

  “And I apologize for failing to inform you.” With a warm hand on each of my legs, he parts my knees and plants a hot kiss on the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. “As we’ve discussed, I’m a poor communicator, and I’ll work on that.”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” My head falls back at the touch of his lips to the lace edge of my panties.

  “I said, I apologize.”

  “I can’t hear you. Could you say it a little louder this time?” I dig my fingers into his hair, cupping his head as he continues dropping kisses on my lower body, deliberately teasing him.

  His chuckle reverberates against my sex. “You heard me the first time.” The silky tips of his hair brush against my lower stomach as he sits up. The humor evaporates from his expression. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you because I have your father.”

  “Where is he?” My fingers clench into fists. Henry perches on the edge of his chair, still between my open legs, his brows lowering at the question. I search his face, my emotions warring between elation and sorrow.

  “He’s being held in a safe place.” His careful choice of words suggests he knows more than he’s willing to divulge. “The question is, what would you like me to do with him?”

  “Do you think the man who shot Nicky today—did my father send him?” I’m unable to wrap my head around the news.

  “The shooter’s in custody and undergoing interrogation. We’ll know more soon, I hope.” The lines of gravity around his eyes and mouth add age to his handsome face. I caress the line from his temple to his chin. A shadow of stubble lurks beneath his skin, tickling my fingertips. “But I think this was an unrelated incident.”

  “What do you want to do with Dad?” I know my father is a terrible man, but I can’t stomach the thought of causing harm to him.

  Henry shrugs then takes my hands in his. “You’ll never be safe as long as he’s alive. You understand that, right?”

  “Yes.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Although my father wants me dead, I don’t feel the same wa
y about him.

  Henry reads my mind. He tilts my face up to his. “Don’t go soft on me now. Think like a queen, Everly. What do you want to do?”

  The old Everly is gone. My place is here with Henry and the people of Androvia. His question means that my position here is safe. “I know he’s dangerous, but he’s still my father. Do I have time to think about it?”

  “Of course.” He brushes a kiss across my lips. Now that I know Nicky and the people at the hospital are out of danger, tension eases from my neck and shoulders. Henry studies my face. “But you need to make a decision about him. Soon.” The somberness in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat. One corner of his mouth quirks. “After everything he’s done, you still care about him.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “You have the biggest heart, my love.”

  “I’m sorry for disobeying your orders.” Right now, my heart is enamored with his blue-green eyes, the straight line of his nose, and the regal tilt of his blond head. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try to be less difficult. More obedient.” I touch the curve of his upper lip. The softness in his eyes untangles the knot in my chest. “But only in the bedroom.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking when I married you.” He shakes his head. His words douse the small flicker of hope I’d been harboring. He takes my hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of my knuckles. Have I been misreading him? Maybe this is the moment he cuts me loose. I can’t bear the thought. “You’ve tested my patience, questioned my authority, and generally been an enormous pain in my ass.” Despite the harshness of the statement, a touch of amusement lurks beneath the gravel of his baritone. “For every time you annoyed me, I can name a dozen when you made my day. I love seeing your sleepy smiles in the morning, and I can’t wait to climb between your legs at night.” His fingers thread through mine. “The moment I met you, I knew I was done for.”