by Marian Tee
Chapter One
“What do you mean there’s no way for me to leave the island?”
Garth pulled on the collar of his white polo shirt, which was feeling a little too tight. Normally, he loved working on the field as one of St. Roch’s official customer service reps. It was a dream job, being paid to hang out at the beach all day long. He could even dine in any of the island’s restaurants or take advantage of any of the services offered in St. Roch and have everything paid for by management.
One of its few downsides, however, was having to deal with irate guests like the one before him: a six-foot-plus European prince whose icy rage had Garth bathed in cold sweat despite the island's sweltering heat.
"What the fuck do you mean I'm unable to leave the island?"
Garth cleared his throat. “I am very sorry, sir – I mean, Your Highness. There is truly no way to book an unscheduled ferry ride from St. Roch, and air travel has been indefinitely suspended due to weather forecasts."
The prince didn’t say a word, but his blazing hazel eyes spoke volumes. If St. Roch had been under the jurisdiction of Ethereal, the kingdom which Prince Julian Rivera came from, Garth was fairly certain his head would have been on a platter by now.
More seconds trickled by, and Garth pulled on his collar again.
The prince was still gazing at him, dangerously quiet. He was one of the most ridiculously good-looking men Garth had ever seen, and he had seen his fair share with the world’s rich and famous constantly flocking to the island. But Prince Julian was in a league of his own. Shiny black hair, a perfectly chiseled face, a bronze tan, and a powerful body that made him look like he had been trained to wield a sword rather than a scepter.
No wonder women all over the world flocked to him, Garth thought, suitably awed by the prince’s, well, sheer awesomeness. Those looks alone would make women lust after him. Add the fact that he was a prince to one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Europe, and Garth could easily believe a recent news report that the Prince received millions of love letters each day. In fact, one employee of the kingdom said that if all the pages of love letters written by the prince’s admirers were to be recycled, then they would have been enough to print an entire year’s supply of textbooks for Ethereal’s schoolchildren.
"Very well."
The Prince's clipped tone had Garth snapping out of his thoughts.
"You will at least inform me when I am permitted—-" So much ice dripped from this last word that Garth had to keep his teeth from chattering. "—-to fly out of the island. You can at least do that, can you...Garth?"
Garth could only manage a sickly nod. The Prince knew his name, and the only reason the Prince was letting him know this was all too clear.
His head on that much-dreaded silver platter, if Prince Julian were to think Garth wasn't doing all he could to help him off the island.
SUMMER WAS ALWAYS GOOD for business in St. Roch, Sunny, a plump widow in her thirties, thought contentedly. The island was always packed with tourists, and both men and women tended to be in the mood to fall in love. That, of course, meant brisk sales for her floral shop. Her roses were one of a kind, a variety only found in St. Roch, and she made sure her sellers mentioned that fact whenever male customers came to buy bouquets for their ladyloves.
“I’m done for the day, Sunny.”
Seated behind the cashier, Sunny looked up to see eighteen-year-old Cassandra Baker stepping out of the greenhouse, which was built as an extension at the back of the shop. Young Cass was her garland maker, a blind girl with amazing talent for making wreaths and garlands.
Cass turned towards her direction after dumping the gloves into the bin. “I’ve done about thirty-something wreaths for today. Is that enough for the luau tomorrow or do you need extras?”
“That brings your weekly total to close to almost two hundred. That should be more than enough,” Sunny answered.
Even though Cass had been working at the shop for over two years, Sunny still couldn’t help but feel impressed at how, well, capable Cass was, in spite of her handicap. If not for the somewhat vague, glassy look in her eyes that indicated her blindness, everything about Cass appeared normal at first glance. She never bumped into things, never asked for assistance, and there was not one instance Sunny ever heard the younger woman express bitterness or regret about her condition.
She was an incredible girl, and that, Sunny thought with a quiet sigh, was probably why Cass was usually targeted by catty bitches. Men so easily fell in love with Cass’ bright, can’t-get-me-down disposition, but the girl never seemed to notice, and this, of course, only made the women hate her more.
"You're feeling bad for me again, Sunny."
The older woman made a face. "How many times do I have to tell you this? You are not to read people's mind when you're not in costume as Mademoiselle C!"
Cass wrinkled her nose. "It's just..."
"The locals may accept you as you are," Sunny reminded the younger woman gently, "but the rest of the world is different."
"Are they really so different?" Cass couldn't help asking.
"They're worse," Sunny answered flatly, thinking of all the evils that she had left behind in her old life. "And this summer...I heard Garth say we'll be hitting an all-time high for tourist arrivals. That means you need to be on your guard at all times. And I want to hear you promise exactly that, Cass. No slipping up, no reading minds when you're not playing Mademoiselle C."
The younger girl flashed her a sweet dimpled smile as she said obediently, “I promise.”
Sunny wasn’t fooled. Everyone on the island knew Cass as stubbornly independent, not liking anyone to give her special attention because of her blindness. By making Cass promise not to be so free with her clairvoyant ways, Sunny knew she might as well have pushed Cass to do the opposite.
“Sunny? Is it okay if I leave now?”
Sunny reached for her pen and started fiddling with it, Cass’ question making her feel oddly restless. It was almost as if the girl’s ability to see the future had rubbed off on her. She had a very strong feeling that something big was about to happen to Cass—-
“You feel it, too?” Cass gasped.
Sunny groaned. “Cass! You did it again!”
“Umm...oops?”
Sunny groaned a second time. “You’re so hopeless—-”
“I’m sorry, Sunny, but you were practically shouting it in your mind.” Cass rubbed her arms as if goose bumps had popped up all over her body. “But I can’t believe you feel it, too.”
“I don’t feel anything,” Sunny lied, determined not to give Cass any encouragement. The younger girl had to learn not to be too open about her ability. It was too powerful...as well as dangerous if the wrong people knew about it.
Cass gave her a knowing smile. “Yes, you did.”
“No. I did not.”
“Yes, you absolutely did.” The younger girl turned her head towards the door. “I really have to leave now.”
“Sure, but...why are you in such a hurry?”
Cass looked at her direction over her shoulder and said simply, “I think the man I’ve been dreaming about all these years has finally come to the island.”
By the time Sunny recovered from her shock, Cass was completely gone from her sight.
Oh, oh, dear!
There that girl went again, being too honest for her own good!
When would she ever learn?
WHEN CASS WAS YOUNG, she had liked to play a different version of Hot or Cold with her friends. The normal rules of the game had the “it” searching for an object in a room. Other players would say “hot” if she was near the object and “cold” if she was not. Her version, however, was different. Whenever she was it, she would try to distinguish which of her friends appeared a darker shade of orange in her mind. That meant she was hot, because the deeper shade meant they were excited about not getting caught.
Right now, she was playing another version of the game with herself. This time,
she was using her own life source to find out if she was “hot” or “cold”. More specifically, the giddier and more excited she felt, the nearer she was likely to be towards the man in her dreams.
By the time she raced down the steps leading to the beach, Cass was breathless with her excitement, her cheeks flushed with color. He was here. He really was here. She slowly turned right or left, eyes squeezed shut, trying to sense the right direction.
Left felt...cooler.
Right it was then.
She walked a little more slowly this time, not wanting to accidentally walk past her prince. In her mind, she saw an outlined row of lounge chairs, some of them occupied. Her heart raced at the sight of them, and she immediately knew he was seated on one of those chairs.
It was just a matter of finding which chair he was resting in.
Balmy winds teased tendrils of her hair, and she nervously tucked them behind her ears. She felt so twitchy she was tempted to nibble on the tips of her hair but did her best not to. That was not princess-like behavior, and she was determined to be her very best when—-
The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Cass slowly turned to her right.
A figure was lying on the chair, and Cass experienced a deep sense of disappointment for a second.
She had hoped that with him, she would not be blind.
In her dreams, she saw him so clearly.
She had hoped that it would have been the same in reality.
But the figure outlined with all shades of the sun remained faceless. Only through the unique color of the person lying on the chair was Cass able to determine that he was the one she had been looking for.
“Excuse me, mister?” She said the words thrice, but still the man did not look up. Cass wanted to roll her eyes. This was definitely Prince Julian, the snobbiest person alive.
She took a step closer. “Prince Julian?”
Slowly, the man looked up, and Cass sucked her breath when the colors making up the outlined figure on the chair sharpened. “It’s really you," she whispered shakily, "isn’t it?”
After all these years...
So many nights she felt like she was going crazy and delusional. There had been countless times when she had doubted her own ability, had wondered if she had made him all up because he couldn’t possibly be the Prince Julian that the whole world knew.
But he was.
He was.
Unable to help it, she reached out and touched his lips——
Oh!
Electricity burst between them, and she saw him so clearly it was as if she had never been blind.
“You,” Prince Julian said hoarsely, her fingers still on his lips. He was even more beautiful in person, the perfect embodiment of a prince. Strong, gorgeous, and authoritative – someone who could command an army and nurture his people at the same time. It was really him – her prince, and he had come for Cass.
She averred shakily, “Me.”
Chapter Two
“So you finally remembered to visit me again.” Julian had not intended his first words to be so harsh the moment he felt the bed dip, followed by the brush of a soft warm body against him under the covers.
Most people would have quaked at his tone, but the young girl who was snuggling trustingly against him didn’t seem to mind it at all as she said laughingly, “Stop being so spoiled.”
In one swift move, he had rolled her on top of him, and he smiled as he heard her gasp at the way their naked bodies came into contact. They had been meeting like this for a long time, and yet she never seemed to get used to the intimacies they shared.
She suddenly giggled. “I feel something hard poking me below. Does that mean you miss me?”
It was the first time she had ever asked him such a question. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, the question causing Julian to realize that he had missed her. He had not dreamt of her for so many nights, and all that time he had felt...empty.
Fingers gently caressed his face. “Julian, what is it?” Her voice was soft and tender, an innocent genuine plea to allow her to comfort him.
Unfortunately, it only made him feel more bitter and savage, and he found himself gripping her wrist and pulling her hand away. “Don’t do that.” The words of rejection were out before he knew what he was saying.
When she started to speak, Julian couldn’t help holding his breath, a part of him already prepared for her anger – for her to be tired of his cruelty and leave him for good.
“I can’t help it, Julian. I love you. What hurts you, hurts me.” She wriggled her wrist, and Julian found himself releasing her. She touched his face again. “I feel your pain. Talk to me. Let me bear it with you.”
His eyes closed. “You can’t do anything. No one can.”
“Just try, please, Julian. For me.”
Ah, fuck. When she said it like that, it was impossible for him to refuse. “The guilt’s killing me,” he said roughly. “I can’t forget the fact that someone died because of me. I might as well have killed him—-”
Fingers touched his lips, and a moment later he tasted the salt of her tears. Julian cursed. “Don’t cry!”
“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “I can feel you hurting so badly.” She removed her fingers and replaced it with her lips. His mouth immediately opened under hers, and their tongues mated in a kiss that never failed to feel new and sweet, no matter how many times their lips touched in this world of dreams.
When they broke apart, she cupped his face and said softly, “Listen to me, Julian. It wasn’t your fault that man died.”
“You don’t know—-”
“Of course I know. I read the news, too. I follow your progress faithfully. I cried when you decided to lead one of the troops against the rebels. I was so afraid for you. And when you came back, I cried because I was so thankful to God He had saved you. It was Sgt. Johnson’s choice to take the bullet for you. You didn’t make him do it—-”
“But if I had been more careful—-”
“Only God’s perfect, my prince. You’re only human.”
“I was older than him—-”
“You’re human,” she stressed fiercely. “You keep thinking about that one time you failed, but what about all the other times you saved the lives of your men? Some of them were older than you—-”
He exclaimed disbelievingly, “How do you know that?” He had made his men swear never to tell a soul about what they had gone through. If word about his actions ever got out, the public might think he was deliberately painting himself a hero so that the world could forget Sgt. Eric Johnson had died to save his prince.
“I know everything about you, Julian. Every thought, every beat of your heart. It’s a part of me.”
The words made him sink his hands in her hair so he could pull her head down and devour her lips for another kiss. Only she made him feel wanted, not because he was a prince but because of the man that he was.
When he released her lips, both of them were breathing hard.
“Please stop blaming yourself,” she whispered.
“I want to, but I can’t—-”
“You don’t have anything to be guilty about. If you do, then I might as well blame all those wounded men for forcing you to risk your life to save them.”
He said flatly, “That’s different.” Feeling her despair, he sought to comfort her, tenderly stroking her hair, tucking the stray curls behind her ears. “I’m their prince, sweetheart. It is my birthright and duty to protect them – not the other way around.”
She shook her head so fiercely it had her whole body shaking, too. Her breasts shook with it, the movement temporarily distracting him.
“Stop beating yourself up over it, Julian. Every time we meet, you seem to be harder and colder. You can’t let your duties rule your life. You have the right to be happy, too. Or the right to make mistakes. You can’t be perfect all the time.”
Her words shook him. He didn’t like hearing her describe his flaw
s. Of course he damn well knew he was hard and cold – nothing like her, which was everything pure and beautiful in this world. “If I don’t change, does that mean we’ll stop meeting? That you’ll leave me?” He tried to keep his tone level even though his whole being despised the very thought of their parting.
“Oh, Julian...” He felt her cupping his face and then she was kissing him, rubbing her body enticingly against him. His cock rose in prominence, and her thighs parted so he could rub his hardness against her womanhood.
“What I mean is it’s time...look for me now, Julian. Find me. I need you, and you need me.”
JULIAN WOKE WITH A start. For a moment, he was completely disoriented, unable to understand why, rather than the comforting darkness of his bedroom at the palace, with his beautiful princess in his arms, he was instead lying on a lounge chair under a clear blue sky.
Another second passed.
Fuck, Julian thought as he regained his senses.
His princess did not exist.
This was reality, and it was just his first day on the goddamn island of St. Roch.
Sheer frustration had a muscle ticking in his jaw. This part was always the hardest. The faceless girl in his dreams was real. He knew that in his guts. But other than that, Julian had no fucking idea how to find her.
Raking a hand through his hair, Julian tried to think of something else. Having his mind dwell on his dreams was a futile exercise. He had tried everything – to the point of secretly meeting with a hypnotherapist – to come up with a clue, a name, or even a distinct physical feature of the girl...anything that he could use as the basis to search for her.
But nothing had worked, and the only way he had been able to control his growing frustration was to completely switch his emotions off and bury all thoughts of her in the deepest part of his consciousness.
And for a very long time, Julian had succeeded...until now.
Until this fucking island trapped him, and he found himself alone with the painful reality of her absence.