Pretender to the Throne

by Maisey Yates

  “I’m sure getting smashed in a casino was terrible for you, but while you were doing that, I was by myself in my parents’ old home in a prescription drug haze, so excuse me if I don’t feel that sorry for your plight.”

  “Layna...”

  “No.” She stood up. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, and for what? My pride? What pride have I got? No, you should know. You should know because you should have been there, Xander. You should have been there with me. I...” A sob broke through, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I needed you...” The words were torn from her, pulling at any thread of dignity she might have had, but they were the truth. A truth she’d never even allowed herself to think before, let alone voice.

  She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Do you have any idea... Sometimes I just wanted to be held and there was no one there. And it should have been you. You were supposed to be my husband, you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

  “I won’t leave again,” he said, his voice rough. “Though...I don’t know that I would have done everything for you that you hoped I might.”

  “Anything would have been better than being alone. My days just kind of blended and...I got addicted to my pain medication. It was so much nicer to be out of it than it was to feel. And the medicine helped with that. Helped things seem nicer. Without them it was just endless despair and...and I would think things like...if I walked out to the beach and went out into the ocean and just...kept walking until the water went over my head, would anyone care? Would I care? Or would everything just stop hurting?”

  He swore. “Layna, I’m sorry.”

  “Why couldn’t you help me? Why couldn’t you think of anyone but yourself?”

  “Because,” he said. “Because I killed my mother, Layna. Because my father looked me in the eye and told me he believed it was my fault, and my brother thought so, too. Because I couldn’t stay here and face that. And I might never have thought of walking into the ocean but everything I’ve done has been about seeing that I shorten my days in a very spectacular fashion.”

  Her chest felt tight. And for the first time she really thought about him, and his loss. Not just her own need. “Did they really blame you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not fair, it was an accident.”

  He nodded slowly. “But we were arguing. And no one knows that but me. I was angry, and so I wasn’t paying attention. I looked up and there was a truck cutting across the line and I swerved and hit the side of the mountain because I panicked and overcorrected. They were my mistakes, and they were brought about largely by my anger. Because I didn’t take the time to pull the car over. Because I let emotion take over and I behaved... I was stupid. And it was my fault.” He looked at her. “Maybe I should have stayed for you. But I don’t think I could have been the man you needed. I know I wasn’t the man that you thought I was.”

  “I’ve never told anyone before,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone about wanting to...about having trouble living. I don’t even like to remember it but...do you know what’s nice?”

  “What?”

  “Even when I told you, even when I let myself think about it, I can remember how bad it was, but it doesn’t make me feel the way I did then.”

  “The convent is what changed things for you?”

  “It gave me a purpose. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t have you. The marriage wasn’t going to happen, I wasn’t going to be queen. No other man would marry me. My friends, who I took such delight in cutting down behind their backs, wouldn’t see me. No one invited me to parties, and I wouldn’t have wanted to go if they had. Everything changed for me and all of that combined with my depression just made me...I was just drifting. But after talking to the Sisters after my last surgery, about the work they did, about the life they led, I thought maybe the answer wasn’t trying to go back, or even making myself want to go back, but to find something new.”

  “That’s sort of what I did. Only without the altruism or chastity.”

  “How so?”

  “I changed everything. Because things were too different to be who I’d been before.”

  “That’s sort of how I feel right now,” she said, turning to face him. “Too different to be the girl I was fifteen years ago, and not quite the woman I was a week ago when you found me again.”

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve uprooted your life again. And that you were alone. It’s funny,” he continued, “you’re right, I never spent a night alone unless I wanted to. But it’s a strange thing about sex. For a moment, there’s this clash of heat. A connection of some kind. Ten minutes of euphoria, and then, in the end, you can be skin-to-skin with someone, inside of them, and feel more alone than you ever have in your life.” He stood up, hands in his pockets. “There’s nothing more terrifying than that. Because it’s moments like those where you realize how far beyond human connection you are.”

  “Is that how you feel?” she asked, the picture he pained cutting a swath of pain through her heart.

  “It’s just not in me anymore. To love someone. To feel all that deeply. I care about the country, but what I do...it comes from my head.”

  “Is that a warning?”

  He nodded slowly. “Maybe. I don’t want to hurt you, it’s clear to me that I’ve done that enough for one lifetime. But we will make a marriage, a real one. We don’t need love for that. And...I will be faithful to you.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I did say it, but I’m not sure I meant it. I do now. Because I gave it some thought, and what it comes down to is that I know the kind of pain infidelity causes. Even if one party never finds out, there are always consequences.”

  “What else is there, Xander?” she asked. Because she could sense, somehow, that there was more he wanted to say. That his pain came from somewhere even deeper.

  “There isn’t anything.”

  “Really?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not important.” He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow we’re going to go and see my father.”

  “Both of us,” she said, confirming it.

  “Yes.”

  “I was going anyway. For my part, Xander, you’re not going to be alone anymore. And neither am I.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  HE COULDN’T HIDE the headlines from her forever. But he would do his best. He had expected...something triumphant. Something about Layna’s bravery. About her beauty, at least her inner beauty, to grace the pages of the newspapers. But he was disappointed.

  There were before and after photos. Layna, young, radiant and golden, and Layna as she was now. With the scars that had changed the landscape of her face.

  And they asked would she now be the face of the nation. And suddenly...suddenly they were acting like he was a saint. Honoring past commitments in spite of present circumstances.

  Isn’t that what you wanted?

  His blood boiled. Rage spiking through him. At the media. At himself. He had used her. He had exposed her to this.

  And he would protect her from it as long as he could. Because he needed her. Of that he was certain. He had no idea how he would rule without her.

  He couldn’t dwell on it now. Today he was seeing his father. Today, he was facing the hardest part of his past.

  At least Layna would be beside him.

  * * *

  His father was an old man. That was his first thought when he walked into the hospital room and saw the man he’d always thought of as so imposing, hooked up to all the machinery.

  He was asleep. Or maybe he was unconscious. Xander wasn’t sure. He wasn’t certain he could get close enough to find out.

  Delicate fingers wrapped around his hand and he looked down at the top of Layna’s head. Shocked that she was there. Shocked that she was touching
him.

  “I told you,” she said. “You aren’t alone.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Layna.”

  “I know. This isn’t about owing you. This is about getting you through.”

  “I didn’t help you get through.”

  “And I didn’t help you. But that was then. And we’re both here now.”

  He wanted to tell her he didn’t need any help getting through, but the words stuck in his throat. “What do we do exactly? He isn’t awake.”

  “Talk to him.”

  “I would feel stupid.”

  “King Stephanos.”

  She approached the bed, small and regal. Yes, it was she who belonged in this position while he...he was not sure he had a place in life much less in Kyonos.

  “It’s Layna Xenakos. And I’m here with Xander. He’s home. He’s here for you. For Kyonos.”

  She turned back to face him and the sun caught in her hair, catching the deep golds that were woven in with the browns. She was practically glowing, and he had a feeling he couldn’t even blame the sun. She seemed to glow from the inside. “I don’t feel silly.”

  “No,” he said. “I can see that. But it’s been longer since I talked to him so...”

  “Yeah, like a week longer.” She reached out and grabbed his arm, squeezed it. “I understand, though. I know you left on poor terms.”

  “Understatement there.”

  He looked at his father and tried to find one part of himself there. Because part of him had always hoped his mother had been wrong. But he could see nothing of himself in the old man. Eva’s stubborn chin, so many of Stavros’s features. But nothing of himself.

  The king wasn’t his father.

  He’d never for a moment believed his mother would lie about his parentage, but he had hoped off and on that she might be mistaken. Denial was a beautiful state. The one he chose to live in.

  Suddenly, the room seemed too small. The beeping machines all too loud and antiseptic burned his nose. “Let’s go,” he said, undoing the top button on his shirt. Damn. He couldn’t breathe. “I have to go.”

  He pushed through the curtain and out into the halls, gasping for air. It was a luxurious environment for a medical center. The sort of place you sent kings, of course. But no matter how comfortable, it couldn’t ease him now.

  He walked down the hall with long strides, pushed open the doors and went out to the parking lot, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

  “What happened, Xander? I know he looks sick...he’s your father and...”

  “No...Layna...” He couldn’t say it. He could barely think it. He could barely think at all. So instead he did what felt right. And it felt right to take her arm and pull her up against him.

  He stroked her cheek—the undamaged side—and he really couldn’t see the point in holding back on what he wanted. Not now. Not when everything felt terrible and he just wanted to lose himself again.

  Before he’d run. From Kyonos. From himself.

  He couldn’t do that now.

  And there was only one other way he could think of to lose himself completely.

  He leaned down and took her mouth. And he wasn’t gentle. Because this wasn’t for her. Madonna or whore, it didn’t matter to him, all that mattered was the feel of her lips on his and what it did for him.

  And oh, Theos, what it did.

  It set him on fire. The flames so hot he could feel nothing else. Nothing but his desire. Nothing but this. He coaxed her lips open, sliding his tongue against hers as he delved in deep.

  Yes. This was what he needed. He could drown in this. In her sweetness. She didn’t know how to kiss him back, her rhythm a step behind his, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt like little claws.

  And it was the most wholly erotic kiss he’d ever experienced in his life.

  “Where is the car?” he asked, feeling beyond himself. Unable to think straight.

  “Over...over there,” she said.

  He took her hand and led her over to the limo, which was parked near the front doors. He must have passed it on his way out of the building. He honestly couldn’t remember it, though.

  He jerked open the back door and got in, pulling her in with him, reaching across and closing the door behind him, with her half on his chest, her leg draped over his lap.

  She had no makeup on today. Her dark hair was loose around her face, and she was back in one of those unflattering dresses. He needed to take her shopping. But he had no time to concern himself with that. Not now. Not when her touch, her lips, were so perfect.

  He made sure the divider between them and their driver was up, and then he pulled her to him, kissing her deeper, harder than he’d done outside. He poured everything into the kiss. All of his anger. All of his desire. Everything.

  He breathed her in, and he found he wasn’t suffocating anymore.

  He could forget himself like this. Because a woman like her would never kiss a man like him and that meant that it was easy to pretend he was different. A different man, in a different time and place.

  But he knew it was Layna. He knew it when he cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb over her rough scars. When he lightened the pressure on her lips and felt the hardened tissue by one corner of her mouth with his tongue.

  Layna, who the media called ugly. Layna, who he wanted more than anything. To possess, to protect. He wanted all of it. Everything.

  He put his hands on her hips, bunched the thin fabric of her dress into his fists and pushed it upward. Her body was a treasure. Full, round hips, a slim waist and those breasts...the ones that had haunted his dreams since he’d seen them in that gown of hers.

  He needed to see her again. All of her. Now.

  He pushed her dress up farther and she pulled back, breathing heavily, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

  “If you have to ask, clearly I’ve done something wrong.” He was so hard it hurt. And his lungs felt tight now. Being deprived of her lips was like being deprived of oxygen. He needed her. He couldn’t explain it, but he did.

  But he would never let her know.

  She shifted and moved away from him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, I know you were...that you were...”

  “That I was about to make love to you?”

  “Well, that. But we’re in a parking lot. Our driver is just behind that divider and I seriously doubt these windows are that tinted.”

  He frowned and looked outside. “There’s no one around.”

  Layna felt like she’d been underwater for too long. Her lungs were burning, her head was fuzzy and her body ached. Though it ached in very pointed and telling places. How was she supposed to think when he was kissing her like that?

  He’d essentially devoured her. In a parking lot. She’d never been devoured by a man in her life, much less had it happen while she was in a parking lot.

  It was scary, how he managed to steal her control, her common sense. How he made her lose sight of everything. That they were in public, that she was inexperienced. That she’d been about two minutes away from losing her virginity in the back of a limo.

  Yes, he made her lose sight of a lot of things.

  But when he’d run out of the medical building, his pain had been palpable. Coming off him in waves, a deep hurt that she knew he wouldn’t share. One she knew he’d had to exhaust by kissing her. For some reason.

  “It doesn’t matter that there’s no one around. People don’t just...do that.”

  “I do,” he said. His posture readjusted. To this sort of slouched position in the seat, a half smile on his face. Gone was the desperate man of a moment before, replaced by the Xander character that he was so very fond of playing.

  “Well, I don’t. So that’s something you’ll have to de
al with being married to me.”

  “You’re a prude?” he asked.

  “Practically a nun,” she answered.

  “Touché.” He straightened and pushed the intercom button that fed into the front half of the limo. “Back to the palace, please.”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “You can just tell me that you aren’t going to tell me. It’s more honest than saying it’s not important. Don’t say things that affect you that deeply aren’t important.”

  “Well, it’s unimportant in terms of you and I.”

  “I see.”

  “You can’t act like a miffed fiancée, Layna, not when you don’t act like a fiancée when I need you to.”

  She frowned and looked at him, ignoring the kick in her heartbeat. “What do you mean by that?”

  “If you were my real fiancée, and by that I mean, if you were with me for some reason that extended beyond the desire to heal the country and protect them from my wickedness,” he said, his tone dry, “then you would have lifted your dress for me and given me the thing I really needed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “That it wasn’t talking I needed, baby. It was f—”

  “Stop it,” she said. “Stop turning into a horrible...beast every time you encounter territory that wounds you. Whatever happened between you and your father isn’t my fault. In fact, I’ve suffered enough due to all of those events, thank you.”

  “Why don’t you take a little pleasure out of it?”

  “Can we stop? Can we stop with this shallow, ridiculous nonsense. You aren’t telling me what’s really going on. And I’m not going to let you...not here.”

  “Still sticking with your wedding night plan?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Although it was more for self-protection now than anything else. To prove that she could wait. To prove she wasn’t helpless against this thing. This...this attraction.

  “Then I suppose we won’t have much need of each other over the next few weeks. What I would like you to do is coordinate with Athena, my father’s personal assistant. She has all of the information regarding Kyonos, the budget, various charities and so on. Make that your project. And I’m going to be sending you a new wardrobe. You’re not allowed to turn it away. Burn those dresses you’ve been wearing.”