The Exiled Prince

by Jeana E. Mann

  “What about the price?”

  “First we play. Then you pay.” He let the gravity of his statement settle. I got the feeling he was waiting for me to bolt.

  Instead, I smiled and met his eyes. “I can hardly wait.”

  We began our tour with an exploration of the gardens. Torches lit the meandering walkways. Their flames cast dancing shadows over the foliage. The beat of tribal drums reverberated inside my chest. The sound grew louder with each step. At the first clearing, an enormous bonfire glowed. Its heat burned my cheeks. Naked men and women, covered in neon paint, swayed and writhed to the rhythm. I watched, fascinated, with Prince Charming close at my side.

  “They’re performing an ancient Druid rite,” he said. The red-gold firelight sharpened his profile. I tried not to stare at him, but my body thrummed from his proximity. “The nudity is a bit of artistic license, but it works, don’t you think?”

  “It’s breathtaking.”

  My answer seemed to please him. His lips curled at the corners. In the darkness, his eyes remained hidden, but I had the feeling they’d reveal nothing. “More?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Taking my hand, he placed it in the crook of his elbow and led me down the next pathway. On the outside, I fought to appear calm, but my insides whirled in a tempest of conflicting emotions. What was he thinking? Who was he? Was he Roman Menshikov, despite his earlier denial? Cowardice prevented me from asking again. I didn’t want to push him away, not yet. Not until I had to leave.

  “Are you in London for long?” he asked after a span of silence.

  “A few more days,” I replied. “And you?” A warm breeze carried the scents of earth and smoke and jasmine. Our feet crunched on the packed gravel.

  “I’m only here for a short layover before flying home.”

  “And where is home?”

  “I have houses all over the world.” His enigmatic reply fueled my curiosity.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I spend a lot of time in New York City. I have offices there and a penthouse. It’s a good base, halfway between London and California. It’s as close as I’ve ever come to a real home.” The forthright answer caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected a reply and certainly not a detailed one, one I could sympathize with. “Your turn. Have you always lived in New York?”

  “No. I moved there when I was fourteen to live with my aunt. My parents died within a few months of each other, and she was kind enough to take me in until I finished high school.” For a brief moment, I forgot that he was a stranger and that I was trespassing at a party to which I didn’t belong. His easy demeanor and keen interest had almost tricked me into confessing my secrets. I bit my lower lip.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He halted and brushed my hair over my shoulder. The graze of his fingertips against the bare skin of my back sent a shiver through my body. “I understand what it’s like to lose your parents. I lost mine when I was very young. It makes a hole in your heart that never quite heals.”

  I sucked in an audible breath at hearing my own words thrown back at me, words I’d said so many times. “Yes, I know. You’re still functioning, but a piece of you is missing and always will be.”

  “And your aunt—she was very kind to take you in.” Wind and music filled the air, muffling our voices. I nodded. “Were you happy with her?” His dark head bent lower to capture my words.

  “Oh, yes. Very happy. She’s a wonderful person.” Suppressed tears stung the backs of my eyelids. I blinked them into submission. I didn’t want to talk about my aunt or the illness threatening to take her from me. “What about you? Were you happy?”

  “One of my father’s friends took me in. He raised me as his own when he didn’t have to. I have no complaints.” We’d come to a fork in the path. He gestured to the intersection. “Which way shall we go? Left or right?”

  “Which do you suggest?” The left path arched toward a copse of trees. The right path angled down toward the lake.

  “Well, to the right is beauty and tranquility and a sight worthy of Monet or Pissarro. To the left is something just as beautiful but much more interesting and very wicked.”

  My breathing stuttered. The choice wasn’t a choice at all, but a given. “Left, please.”

  “Are you sure?” One of his thick black eyebrows arched.

  “Yes. No. Well, now I’m not sure. Why is it wicked?”

  One corner of his mouth curled upward like a comma, like he knew a secret, a very dirty secret. “The price for what lies down that path might be higher than you want to pay.”

  “Can I pay in installments?” My answer was intended to be tongue in cheek, but Prince Charming cocked his head, considering, face somber.

  “That’s an excellent idea.” His gaze dipped to my mouth. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. I mimicked the action, suddenly famished for a taste of him. “I suppose you owe me a kiss for the fire dancers then. Your first installment.”

  He took a step toward me. One of his hands went around my waist and yanked my hips against his. The forceful, unexpected move stole my breath and made my pulse pound. The buttons of his vest bit into my sternum. Lower down, I felt the press of his stirring cock against my stomach. His free hand tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck and angled my mouth to align with his. My lips parted, eager to make contact with his warm mouth.

  “What are you waiting for?” I asked when three interminable heartbeats passed.

  “For you to give your consent.” His voice had turned husky, growing deeper and richer.

  “I consent.”

  The instant those words floated into the air, he closed the gap between us and pressed his lips to mine. The delicious scent of his cologne filled my nose. I placed my palms on his chest. Beneath the linen of his shirt, hard muscles tensed. This—this was what I’d been yearning for. The tip of his tongue eased between my teeth. Slow, probing sweeps of my mouth devastated my inhibitions. His fingers tightened in my hair. I could fall into a kiss like this and never come up for air.

  Too soon, he eased back, leaving me panting and dizzy.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

  “Me neither.” My lips buzzed. He held me for a second longer then pushed me away with a gentle hand. Yearning for more, I swayed toward him.

  “Easy, Cinderella.” The look of shuttered interest returned to his expression. “This is only the first installment, and I have a feeling there will be many, many more.”

  The promise in his voice made my stomach flip. “I hope so.”

  “Are you having a good time?”

  “I’m having an excellent time, thank you.” Lightness of spirit buoyed my footsteps as we continued our journey. For the first time in a few years, I had no responsibilities, no one to worry about but myself, and I’d just kissed the most interesting man I’d ever met.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He kissed the back of my hand. This time, instead of letting go, he threaded his fingers through mine.

  We passed through a grove of aged trees, their branches thick with foliage, their shadows vibrating from the torchlight. On the other side, the crenelated top of an ancient tower came into view. I pointed, forgetting my manners, feeling like a child in Wonderland. “Look. A castle.”

  “It’s called The Devil’s Playground,” he said. “The original castle was built here in the twelfth century. It has a very brutal history. Only the keep is still standing. The rest fell down, and the stones were robbed to build the manor house.”

  “Can we go inside?” I asked. As a kid, I’d daydreamed about castles and knights in shining armor. The weather-beaten stones, the moat, and arrow slits brought back all those fantasies.

  “If you wish.” From behind his mask, his eyes searched mine. “But I have to warn you, it’s not what you’re expecting. I’m afraid it might shock you.”

  The headiness of his kiss, the warm breeze, and the surreal surroundings erased my inhibition
s. I wanted to test the boundaries that had ruled my life for the past twenty-six years. Tonight, there were no rules, no repercussions, no expectations. Anonymity had given me a gift, and I intended to use it to the fullest.

  Chapter 6

  Rourke

  Prince Charming slid a key card through a slot at the enormous door. It beeped, and the tiny light turned green. We stepped into a stone chamber lit by lanterns. Their dancing flames lit the walls with an eerie red glow.

  “This would have been the original entrance. See the murder holes above and the arrow slits across from us? Anyone storming the castle would have been skewered by arrows and burned by boiling oil or water thrown down from overhead.” He opened a second set of doors and motioned for me to step into the next room. “Only special guests are allowed in here. There’s an application process and approval to gain access.”

  “There are people in here?” All I heard was the whistle of the wind against the window panes and the faint thump of music in the distance. “Is this, like, a club?”

  “Not ‘like’ a club. It is a club. Admission is one million dollars per person. But tonight, you’re my guest.” He swept an arm to our left. “This way. Watch your step.”

  My high heels tapped on the uneven stone floor. Warm fingers held my elbow, guiding me up a circular staircase to the second floor. We entered a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for the two of us. Wood paneling covered the walls.

  His breath tickled my ear as he bent to speak. “It’s not too late. We can still leave if you want.”

  A small chandelier lit the room. The golden light cast a warm glow on his bronzed skin.

  I placed a palm against the wall. The more he protested, the greater my curiosity grew. “No. I want to see.”

  “Alright, but I warned you.” Was it my imagination, or did his tone hold a kernel of amusement?

  His shoulder brushed mine. The accidental contact simmered along my arm. The narrow space heightened my awareness of him—his breathing, his leather-and-citrus scent, the strength of his body beneath that perfect tuxedo. With his eyes glued to my face, he slid open a panel on the wall.

  “The lord of the castle used to spy on his guests through this opening,” he said. “While they dined and enjoyed his hospitality, he listened in on their conversations.” I lifted to my tiptoes, straining for a look. He raised an eyebrow then kicked a small stepstool in front of me.

  At first, I saw nothing but a spacious room, wood paneling, tapestries, and the glint of armor. Logs popped and cracked within a fireplace opening taller than me. I cast a quizzical glance at my companion. He nodded to the tiny window, his expression inviting me to return.

  On my second look, two leather sofas came into view. A woman, wearing nothing but a mask, bent over the back of the first sofa. Behind her, a muscular young man pounded into her. His trousers puddled around his ankles. The sound of flesh smacking flesh filled my ears. My mouth dropped open. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t stop staring at the flex of his buttocks as he thrusted or the bounce of the woman’s tits from the impact. In the corner, two men kissed. At their feet, a pair of women performed oral sex on them.

  “You’re shocked,” said the stranger.

  “Yes. I—I had no idea.” Words seemed inadequate to describe my conflicting emotions. Part of me was horrified and embarrassed, but the other part—the baser, animalistic part—was turned on by the display.

  “Do you want to go?” The rawness in his voice scraped over my eardrums. “Or do you like it? Do you want more?”

  “More.” The dry walls of my throat constricted. “Show me more.”

  Chapter 7

  Rourke

  When I was nineteen, I’d lost my virginity to Vance, a graduate student at Everly’s university. He’d been patient and gentle. Although the initial experience had been awkward, the subsequent encounter had awakened a sexuality I hadn’t realized I possessed. We’d arranged to meet once a week until the end of the year. He’d taught me a lot about sex but nothing about love. And I’d been fine with that. After the unexpected deaths of my parents, I didn’t want to need anyone.

  I turned back to the naughty, filthy scene through the peephole. A new kind of desire unfurled within me. One that had always been there but had been squelched, denied, and ignored. Nice girls didn’t enjoy scenes like this. But then, I wasn’t a nice girl.

  “Once again, you’ve surprised me, Cinderella,” said the stranger. He stood close behind me to peer over my shoulder. The muscular front of his chest pressed into my back. Each of his words brought a puff of warm breath on my earlobe and sent a shiver down my spine, the good kind, the kind only a man with a smooth bass voice provided.

  “Does this happen often?” I asked, my voice strained and unfamiliar. “I mean, do people always come here for this?”

  “The keep is only open by invitation and only at the masquerade.” The buttons of his tuxedo bit into my back, and so did something else lower down, something long and thick and promising. “But The Devil’s Playground is a very elite, very secretive club. There are a handful of other locations around the world.”

  “Do you always watch, or do you participate?”

  “Sometimes I watch. Sometimes I participate.”

  The thought of him touching another woman, fucking her in that room, filled my veins with jealousy. It also turned me on. “How does one become a member of this club?”

  “By referral only. There’s an extensive application process and several interviews to vet the members. Why? Do you want to join?”

  “I don’t think I could afford it.” I sucked in a breath to ask another question, but a new couple entered the great hall, bringing us to silence. It was the woman he’d been talking to earlier, the one with large breasts and raven hair. She glided over the handwoven rugs. The elegant man at her side gripped her hand tightly, possessively. He led her to a strange bench, one with restraints on both ends. They kissed, long and lingering. The intimacy of the act made my body ache in deep, dark places, and I wished someone would kiss me like that. Forgetting the man at my back, I lifted a hand to cup my breast. The sharp point of my nipple jutted through the thin fabric, hard against my palm.

  The man drew down the zipper of the woman’s dress. It whispered into a pool of organza at her feet. She stood nude in front of everyone, her eyes locked with her companion’s. They paid little attention to the others, too engrossed in their own pleasure. If only I could be so shameless, so proud of my body. I pressed closer to the window and strained for more.

  He bent her over the velvet-upholstered bench, binding her hands and legs with the leather restraints at each end. The woman rolled her hips into the bench, visibly impatient, while the man undid his fly and pulled out his impressive cock. No wonder she was anxious. I licked my lips when the man feathered his fingertips along the woman’s spine, his touch delicate and worshipful. No man had ever touched me that way, and according to the direction my life was going, they never would. Not unless I made a change.

  The pair began a sinful ceremony of desire. Music filtered into the room through hidden speakers, loud and hedonistic, with a thumping bass that shook the walls. More people entered the room, some watching openly, others participating in their own scenes. All the while, my heartrate accelerated, and the ache between my legs grew.

  “You like this.” His smooth voice murmured in my ear, a new roughness to his speech. “You like to watch.”

  “Yes. I do.” Revelation dawned in a combination of shame and excitement. I had no idea how long we’d been standing in front of the narrow peephole. It could have been minutes or hours, but I couldn’t look away.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” His lips brushed against the curve of my neck. Gooseflesh raced along my shoulders. “Do you like to be watched?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never done anything like that before.” My heart ricocheted between my ribs and my sternum. Was he going to ask me to join the others? Did I want to partici
pate? My thoughts tumbled and scattered like dry leaves in a tempest.

  He offered a hand to help me down from the step stool. My knees quaked. For a second, the room shivered and tilted before I regained my balance. We stood facing each other. My backside mourned the loss of his body heat.

  “Would you like to be watched with me?” The question exploded in my head, stealing my breath and creating dampness in my panties. “Or would you like for me to watch you with someone else? Speak your wish, Cinderella, and I can make it come true.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready for the grand hall.” The thought of stripping in front of the others made my stomach queasy. “Not down there. Not with them.”

  “If you want to experiment, this is the best place to do it. You’re safe here. No one will ever know. No one but you and me.” His words flowed over me, seductive and beckoning. “And we’re strangers. Tomorrow, we’ll be different people, living different lives, separate lives.”

  Hooded eyes searched mine. I had no idea what color they were, except they were dark and brooding and boiling with lust. He crowded me against the wall. The smooth paneling felt cool against the skin bared by the V in the back of my dress.

  “Tell me, princess. What do you want?”

  I placed a hand on his chest. The muscles beneath my palm flexed. In this moment, he was raw and powerful and everything I’d ever dreamed of having in a lover. “I want to end the ache between my legs. I want to feel naughty and needed and free.” While I spoke, his hand smoothed over my shoulder, down my ribs to stop at my hip. His dark head bent to nibble along the tendon between my jaw and shoulder. “I want to be with you.”

  “All you had to do was ask.”