Royally Tamed

by Diana Ames

  “I’m not here to cause trouble,” Alondra said. “Not that it should concern you, but I’m just looking for information. If you’d just tell me how much I owe you, I’ll pay you and leave!”

  “Well, I never,” the woman said huffily.

  “I’m sure you haven’t,” Alondra said. She pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket and put a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “If that doesn’t cover it—well, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said angrily.

  Grabbing her luggage, Alondra stormed through the kitchen and out of the house. Slamming the screen door behind her, she stomped off the porch and began down the street. She had hoped to end things on a better note and maybe get directions to a store, but the woman just wouldn’t quit hounding Alondra until her temper and pride couldn’t stand it anymore. She was so angry that she didn’t hear the woman yelling behind her until she was grabbed and whirled around.

  “Wait! This is too much money,” the woman said, panting. She held the bill out to Alondra. “I’m not a thief.”

  Alondra rolled her eyes and took the money. “So, what do I owe you then?” she asked with irritation in her voice.

  “Just twenty dollars,” the woman said, finally catching her breath.

  “What? That’s not enough,” Alondra told her. “You provided two hot meals. Those alone were worth more than twenty dollars.”

  The woman eyed her speculatively as though she weren’t sure if she should trust Alondra.

  Alondra pulled money out of her pocket and swapped the hundred for a fifty, and she handed it to the woman. Even as rude as she had been, she still deserved to be paid for her services.

  “Just take it,” Alondra said as the woman tried to protest. “It was worth it to me to have a comfortable bed, warm shower, and good food even if it was just for one night.”

  Alondra turned and began walking away once again, feeling better that she had redeemed herself—at least in her own opinion.

  “Wait a minute!” the woman yelled at Alondra again. When Alondra turned around, the woman said, “I can help you get inside the prison.”

  ***

  Damian grinned as he parked in the castle garage. He looked over at Wally, who was sitting completely still with her jaw on her chest.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” Damian asked her.

  “I can’t do this, Damian,” Wally said, snapping out of her reverie. “I’m just an old whore, and this is too much. No one is going to want someone like me here.”

  “I want you here,” he told her sincerely. “As soon as Sandra finds out, she’s going to be over the moon.” He turned in his seat and took her hands in his. “Working as a whore isn’t a stigma like it once was, Wally. It’s honest work, and it has prevented so much crime and abuse. Hell, the club is one of the most successful businesses on castle grounds, and no one looks down on me.”

  “But you’re a prince, Damian, and even before that, you were raised in this castle,” Wally protested.

  “I’m lucky to be halfway normal in spite of it,” Damian told her. “Now, security should be sending some people down to take your things and escort you to your new apartment. You’re in the royal wing but a little ways down from us. I’d take you there myself, but after the way I left things with Sandra…” Damian trailed off.

  “Go make it better with that girl,” Wally said sternly, finding the steel backbone she’d developed before she was sixteen. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a little intimidated by all the changes. Don’t you worry about me.”

  “If anyone can make a difference here, it’s you, Wally.” Damian leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Now, I need to go see if my wife is waiting for me with a butcher knife.”

  Wally chuckled as Damian rushed out of the vehicle. He stopped only long enough to give directions to the men entering the garage.

  Damian took off at a sprint toward his apartment. He and Mellissandra had argued before, but something about this felt different to him. She’d never asked him if he was leaving her, she’d never backed down, and she’d never cried. Maybe it was because they had fought over the radio and not face-to-face, or maybe it was because he had been on his way out of town. Whatever it was, Damian knew he had to make it right.

  He’d spent the entire evening, late into the night, brooding over his conversation with Sandra. He had been wrong not to tell her what he was planning as soon as she’d contacted him, but he hadn’t wanted to raise false hope in either one of them.

  Truthfully, even though they’d been married for over a year, Damian still wasn’t used to answering to anyone. For all his adult life, it had been what he wanted and when he wanted without anyone to tell him no. The sacrifice had been more than worth it though. It was just a matter of getting used to discussing his actions before he took them.

  Damian stopped outside his apartment door and took a moment to catch his breath. It was still early, and he didn’t want to wake up the twins if they were allowing their mother to sleep in. He figured Anton would be up and gone by now since he was usually in his office at this time.

  Composed once again, Damian used his key to open the door. As he’d thought, the apartment was still and quiet. He didn’t see Anton in the living room. It seemed he had been correct in his assumption that Anton was already in his office. For a minute, Damian paused over the fact that there was no bedding or pillows on the sofa, but he shrugged and let it go. He knew Anton wouldn’t deny his request to spend the night in the apartment.

  Damian kicked off his shoes and padded softly down the hallway. He opened the door to the twins’ room and saw them both still sleeping peacefully. He took the time to go over and pat each little bottom sticking up in the air, his heart filling with love and pride. He made sure to quietly close the door on his way out. He had some royal ass-kissing to do with their mother, and that wouldn’t happen if the twins woke up right now.

  Damian opened his bedroom door and slipped inside on his tiptoes. He felt ridiculous, but he wanted to wake Sandra in the most pleasant way possible. Turning around to face the interior of the room, he stopped abruptly, shock flooding his body. His wife was lying on their bed in his brother’s arms.

  ***

  Alondra was back at the boarding house, her things stowed in the room from the previous night. She wasn’t sure what had changed the woman’s mind about her. Was it my lack of makeup and completely flat hair? Was it because I told her that her services were worth more than twenty bucks? Maybe this woman is just a complete lunatic and is planning to murder me in my sleep.

  Regardless, Alondra wasn’t about to question the first break she’d gotten since being assigned to this story. The woman had said she could get Alondra into the prison, and Alondra was going to stick around to find out whether or not that statement was true.

  “Alondra, dear—oh, may I call you Alondra?” the woman asked politely.

  “Please do. I’m afraid though, that I don’t know your name,” Alondra replied in the same polite tone. She knew how to play this game, and she played it well.

  “Oh,” the woman said, laughing. “I’m Mildred, dear. Now then, my nephew, Stephen, should be stopping by anytime. He always comes by on his lunch, you see,” Mildred told Alondra. “Stephen is a therapist at the prison. He sees all the prisoners and evaluates them. He can tell you all about it.”

  Alondra smiled at the woman and prayed she wasn’t certifiable. If she really did have a nephew who was ensconced in prison business and he’d be willing to talk, Alondra might not even have to see Gillian Portsmith in person. Of course, Alondra would prefer to interview the woman one-on-one, but if she could get information without raising alarms, that might be the safest way to get her story.

  ***

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Damian yelled. He was no longer thinking of anything but the fact that his wife was in bed with his brother. He wasn’t worried about being quiet, and making up with Mellissandra was the furthest thing from his mind.

  As rage caused by
the scene in front of him burned in his veins, Damian’s mind drifted back to a conversation with Mellissandra a few days ago.

  “What are we going to do about Anton?” Mellissandra said to Damian while lying next to him in bed.

  They’d just gotten the twins back to sleep after a midnight feeding, and neither was quite ready to drift off.

  “He’s hurting, Damian.”

  “You know he’s in love with you, don’t you?” Damian asked her.

  “I know he thinks he’s in love with me,” she replied. “I don’t think he is, not really. I’m just the first woman he’s ever felt tenderly toward without the need to scrub himself raw.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, darling,” Damian said, snuggling into her side. “Any man could fall in love with you, but it’s more than that. Just to make sure I didn’t hurt you, he would have gone against me, and he would have revoked my royal acknowledgment if he could have.” Damian sighed. “The real question isn’t whether or not he loves you. It’s whether you return his feelings.”

  Mellissandra sat up in their bed and stared at him in shock. “Damian, I love you—heart, body, and soul,” she told him. “You are my everything. Do I care for Anton? Of course I do. I’m secretly raising his child. But I would never, ever think of being unfaithful to you in any way.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that you would.” Damian sat up and kissed her softly.

  “Then, what are you suggesting?” she demanded, pushing him away.

  “How would you feel, if on occasion”—Damian cleared his throat—“if we invited Anton to join us in bed?”

  Damian stood in front of the bed, fuming. When they’d had the conversation, Mellissandra had been completely against asking Anton to be with them. She’d told Damian that while the idea intrigued her, doing so would only hurt Anton more when he had to watch them as a couple. Is she trying to get even for our fight, or did she think this was acceptable because I suggested a threesome with Anton?

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” Damian gritted out from between clenched teeth, his hands in fists at his sides.

  ***

  Anton stared, wide-eyed, at his brother. Sleep was still overwhelming his senses, and he rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. When he felt movement on the bed beside him, the fog lifted, and he remembered falling asleep with Mellissandra. She’d been so distraught last night, thinking that Damian was bored and leaving her, that Anton had agreed to hold her until she fell asleep.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Damian,” Anton said, only to be cut off before he could explain further.

  “Then, what the fuck is it, Anton? You’re in bed with my wife, wrapped around each other. What the fuck is this?”

  “What is this?” a voice screeched from behind him.

  Anton had finally gotten up the nerve to approach one of the prettier maids. He was currently fingering her wet pussy in a dark corner of the corridor while her hands were inside his open trousers, teasing his aching cock.

  Anton jumped away from the maid when he heard his mother’s scream. He hurried to cover his exposed erection, but he knew it was too late. She’d seen everything.

  “You slut! You dirty slut!” she screamed at the frightened maid.

  The girl was cowering against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. His mother began hitting the maid over her head and back while screaming curse words at her and demanding to know how someone as filthy as her dared to put her hands on her pure son. Anton was paralyzed with fear and could only watch the horrible display in silence.

  When his mother realized the maid had lost consciousness from the beating, she grabbed Anton by the arm and dragged him into her apartment. She pulled him into the bathing chamber and began stripping the clothes from his body. When he was naked, she looked over his now mature twenty-year-old body.

  Taking his still erect cock in her hand, she moved close to him. “Did you want to put this in that dirty little slut, Anton?”

  She stroked him a little, and to his shame, his body responded to the touch.

  “I suppose I should have expected this,” she told him. “You’re young, so you don’t know any better.” She squeezed him gently and pulled on his cock again.

  Anton wanted to shove her away and cover himself, but she was his mother, and he was terrified of her. He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and accept whatever his punishment was for daring to touch a girl.

  “You need to take care of this on your own for now, Anton, just until we find a girl of good breeding for you.” She leaned in close. “Mother will teach you how,” she whispered. “Mother will show you.”

  For the next few minutes, his mother pulled and stroked his cock until he finally spilled himself in her hand.

  “That’s what you do, Anton,” she said. “I never want to see you with another dirty slut again. They can only spread their filth to you. Nothing good will come of it.”

  Then, she shoved him in the shower and turned on the hot water. After he was scrubbed raw, his mother did something she’d never done before. She kissed his lips.

  “If you forget or you can’t get it right, darling, just come to Mother. Mother will always be here for whatever you need.”

  Anton jumped out of the bed and dashed to the bathing chamber to vomit. The memories were torture to him, and it seemed like no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape them.

  ***

  “Damian!” Mellissandra snapped. “Nothing happened here, except one friend comforting another. But I’m not the one who should be explaining!”

  “Who was comforting whom here, Mellissandra?” Damian demanded. “What went on while I was gone?”

  “He was comforting me because I was convinced my ass of a husband was spending his night with another woman and probably going to throw me out on my ear! He held me while I cried myself to sleep.” Mellissandra stood up to reveal that she was still fully clothed. “He was a perfect gentleman, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “Sandra, I…” Damian began, regret filling his eyes and his heart.

  He couldn’t believe he’d let jealousy blind him to the fact that Mellissandra and Anton were the two people he loved most in the world—second only to his children—as well as the fact that they loved him just as much.

  “I hear one of the babies, so save it!” She stomped out of the room.

  Damian sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He’d come home, hoping to make up with Sandra, and he’d just pushed her further away. Not to mention, he was sure he’d just traumatized his already emotionally crippled brother. Damian didn’t know how he was going to fix this one—or if it could even be fixed.

  CHAPTER 7

  Alondra was both fascinated and bored. Stephen had to be the dullest man she’d ever met in her life. His manners were so impeccable that she was tempted to start a food fight just to ruffle his feathers a bit.

  He cut a bite of his food into a perfect square, set his knife to the side of his plate, wiped the food on the edge of his plate so that nothing would drip, and then brought it up to his face before daintily blowing on it to make sure it wouldn’t burn him. Alondra watched him do this forty-six times. After the first dozen or so, she was ready to scream at him to stop playing with his food and just fucking eat it.

  But she didn’t. Mildred had told her the truth about Stephen being able to get her into the prison. In fact, if she just played her cards right, Alondra was sure Stephen could get her into see Gillian Portsmith before the end of the day. He didn’t just work at the prison, he was the head of psychiatric evaluations and wielded as much power as the warden.

  “So, all the prisoners pose a serious threat to others?” Alondra asked while prettily batting her eyelashes.

  “Correct,” Stephen said. “We don’t have much in the way of petty crime, thanks mostly to the fact that we aren’t all that modern. Our young people don’
t have time to idly sit around and think of ways to get in trouble.” He took another bite of food.

  “And the sentences are all life sentences?” Alondra quizzed.

  “Yes,” Stephen said, blotting his mouth for the forty-seventh time. “We are more of a mental facility than a prison. All violence begins with mental imbalance,” he explained. “While we try to help with medication and therapy, once someone has committed violence against another human being, they cannot be trusted in society.”

  “When you say violence—”

  “Bodily harm with the intent to kill,” Stephen said. “Murder, of course,” he elaborated. “We don’t have many rapists anymore, but a few are still imprisoned from before the laws against prostitution were revoked. The new laws have eliminated sex crimes. There is someone, somewhere, willing to provide a release for nearly every fetish imaginable.”

  “What about child abuse or bar fights or…” Alondra struggled with the notion that, in this country, the only thing punishable by imprisonment was murder or attempted murder.

  “We believe in punishing our children here,” Stephen said. “As far as bar fights, we do have clubs and bars, but so few people overindulge due to lack of funds or just good sense that it is rarely a problem.”

  “How many prisoners would you say are housed there?” Alondra probed.

  “Right now, we have three hundred and four,” Stephen told her. “Over two hundred of the inmates have been there for more than ten years, and of those who have been there that long, sixty-seven are incarcerated for sex crimes.”

  Alondra did some mental math and was shocked. “So, you’re saying that two hundred and thirty-seven of the three hundred and four inmates are there for murder or attempted murder?” Alondra asked. “What is the population of this country?”