by Maisey Yates
“So do you,” she said.
“Yes. But you mean it.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “I already told you. I think we took different paths to accomplish the same goal. I tried to pretend everything was fine. I hid behind my smile. Behind artificial highs. So that I could pretend I felt something when I simply didn’t. When I couldn’t go back and face all that I needed to face. The only thing to do was never look at the past, and pretend everything was fine in the present.”
He felt her nod, her body shifting slightly against his. “Yes. That sounds about right. I mean, I understand that.”
“And you?”
“In my case, I thought if I could focus on other things, not myself, for a while, I would be okay. If I could have some purpose beyond living in a darkened mansion floating around like a tragic, gothic heroine, then maybe none of it would hurt so bad.”
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Yeah. It did. I...I love helping people. And I was able to surround myself with women who had no love for clothing or fashion. I lived a life where outer beauty was a trap because it could lead to vanity. To pride. And since I had none...” She laughed. “In an odd way I suppose I soothed my pride that way. Because I was clearly the least in terms of looks, so I was starting at a greater advantage, and I could be proud of that. That it wasn’t a challenge for me to avoid the mirror or to not long to spend ages on my appearance. So...I guess what I really did was try to find a new place I could be the best. But I wasn’t that good at it to be honest. I had—I have faith. I believe. But I preferred to ride horses and not meditate indoors. I love food, and it was always hard to fast. But it was quiet. And easy to be content and nothing more. Nothing less.”
“You always use that word to describe it,” he said. “You never say happy. Content is the one.”
“Because happiness is too big, I guess. Unlike you, Xander, I haven’t been searching for the big emotional high. A return to feeling. It hurts too much to lose everything. And if you care...if you care then it’s almost impossible to recover from. Not only did I lose everything, I had an audience. And the moment when I was attacked I had no control. I just stood there. Screaming and screaming, the pain...I can’t even describe the pain.”
He felt a tear splash onto his arm and an answering ache echoed in his chest.
“And I just let them all have it. Every drop of it. The protesters, the media, everyone. I never want to be like that again. I never want to feel so much. But I think...I think just having contentment doesn’t work, either.”
“You don’t think?”
“I was starting to feel a little dry. Brittle. Does that make sense?”
“Like you needed to be watered,” he said. “Like you would fade to nothing if you didn’t have something new and fresh added to you.”
“Yes.”
“It makes sense, because I felt it, too.” Nothing was real or substantial in his world, nothing truly passionate in hers. And for people like them, it was a recipe for death.
“I think that’s why I like the way you are with me,” she said, turning her face into his arm, muffling her words.
Heat assaulted his face. A strange thing. Almost like he was embarrassed, which was ridiculous. “The way I am with you?”
“Yes. The way that you’re...rough. I know this isn’t how it is for everyone. I understand that the way I like it isn’t the way everyone does.”
“No,” he said, his blood rushing south, “it’s not.”
“But I think the reason it works for me is that I spent so long filled with nothing but this sort of bland steadiness. And you... You fill me with sensation. Pleasure and pain so sweet I can’t bear it. It lifts me up from contentment and takes me somewhere else entirely.” She turned over to face him, her expression serious. “But it’s only physical, so it feels safe. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he said, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in his lungs. “Yes, that makes sense.”
“I don’t shock you, do I?”
He had to laugh at that. “You shock me? Until yesterday you were a thirty-three-year-old virgin fresh from the c—”
“Convent, I know,” she said, sighing, sounding exasperated. “But look at it this way: I’ve had a lot of years of nothing more than fantasy. A lot of...desire building up inside me and all. And it was sort of by accident I discovered I liked a bit of rough. I blame the cave wall.”
“Do you?”
“And you. I think you’re corrupting me.”
He laughed again, but this time not because it was particularly funny. “I’m afraid that might actually be true.”
“I’m happy with it.” She shifted against him. “So, what are you going to do?”
“About?”
“You aren’t the heir.”
“I know,” he said. “And for years I was deciding to just not be the heir, but Stavros’s circumstances and Eva’s wishes have changed that for me.”
“I understand that.”
“But you don’t approve?” he asked.
“It’s not that I don’t approve. It’s just that I wonder if your father needs to know. If your family needs to know.”
He tightened his hold on her. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Because you might lose your place?”
“Because I might...I won’t have...”
“You won’t have your family.”
The tension released from him slowly. He was glad she’d said it and not him. “Silly, I know, considering I hadn’t spoken to any of them in ages.”
“But they were there. I understand that. My family is there, even though we don’t really speak.”
“Why is that, Layna?”
“It’s easier not to. For all of us. I should think you would understand that.”
“I do.”
“Why don’t we sleep for a while,” she said, yawning. “Then...then maybe I’ll do better tying your tie, and we’ll have a hope of being on time for dinner.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE PLAN TO make it to dinner perfectly pressed and on time didn’t exactly go off without a hitch. Halfway through tying Xander’s tie for the second time, Layna found herself tangled up in him, and the bedsheets, again.
That put them behind schedule by a good twenty minutes, and by then, she hadn’t been able to have her makeup artist coat her face with all the paint she needed to begin to cover her scars, which meant she was rocking a much more natural look for the dinner than she’d intended.
But Xander didn’t seem to mind.
And he’d called her beautiful.
Something bloomed inside of her, like a flower that had found the sun after a long battle with the clouds. And she wanted badly to crush it herself. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
It was frightening, how much his words meant to her, and yet she found she wanted to hold them close, even knowing that doing that might be too costly.
She didn’t know how today had happened. All that nudity, and not just in bed. It had been real honesty that had passed between them.
And their lovemaking was... She felt her cheeks heat even as they walked into the dining room together, where ten dignitaries were already seated. Yes, their lovemaking was explosive and far beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
If she thought way back to when she’d imagined she might have a sexual relationship with a man, then she remembered having fantasies about Xander. But she remembered them as being quite calm and hazy. Certainly not with her loving the bite of pain from his hands in her hair and rough demands issued from his lips.
She tried to look casual as the past few hours replayed in her mind. This was not the time. This was a formal dinner. Stavros and Jessica were seated near Eva
and Mak, and the head of the table was empty, as was the foot. And just like it was choreographed, she and Xander parted and he walked up to his chair, while she moved down to hers.
It was choreographed, she supposed. From a time long passed, but even so, they both knew the steps. They were steps ingrained in them from years ago. It was the position they’d trained for. The marriage they’d trained for.
So strange to be here now, after she’d let go of it all. So strange to have it be so much the same to what she’d imagined and also so different.
They both had scars now. They had the kind of passion that had nothing to do with a bored, disinterested worldview. They might even be better people now than when they’d first been poised to slip into this roll.
“In the absence of my father,” Xander said, “I will be acting as host.”
“And how is the king?” One of the politicians to Xander’s right posed the question.
“He is as well as can be expected. I would hope he makes a recovery.”
“But of course we can’t plan for that,” Eva said, looking bleak.
“We can’t plan for the worst, either, Eva,” Xander said. “We can prepare for it, but why not do that and then plan on a better outcome?”
She smiled. “I like that idea better than mine. I tend to be a catastrophist.”
“I think this family has had enough catastrophes,” he said.
Layna looked down the table at Stavros, who was looking at his older brother with an expression that was...almost like approval. It made her heart do strange and wonderful things. Because she found that she cared about what happened with Xander and his family. It made her ache for him. Made her appreciate how truly difficult things were for him.
Because he felt like he had a smaller foothold on the Drakos family than he should. Because he wasn’t truly a Drakos at all, but the child of an unnamed man he would never know.
It made her want to go to him. Made her want to hold his hand. But that wasn’t the proper thing to do. So she would help him by being everything a royal wife should be. She wasn’t his wife yet, but today she was acting the part. It was what she could do for him, so she would do it.
The conversation turned to unchallenging things. No one questioned Xander on his years away, no one asked about her scars. No one compared her to a zombie. All in all it went very well.
And when it was over, Xander, Stavros and Mak adjourned to Xander’s study—and it killed Layna not to follow and act as support—while Eva and Jessica stayed behind with her.
“We can take coffee in my study,” she said, gesturing for them to follow her. She felt like a bit of a fraud considering Eva had lived in the palace until a couple of years ago, and Jessica was a frequent guest, where Layna was just learning the layout of everything.
Both women smiled graciously and followed her, and Layna waited until they were seated before settling herself in one of the armchairs that was positioned by the fireplace. It was lit and roaring already. She was used to having to see to things like that herself. But she wasn’t going to complain.
“He’s doing well,” Jessica said.
Eva smiled, a kind of special smile a little sister has for her older brother. “He’s brilliant.”
“And both of you are happy?” Layna asked. “With the order of things, I mean. Jessica, I understand that when you married Stavros it was with the idea that he would rule. That you would —”
Jessica shifted in her seat, her red lips pursed. “Neither of us have ever really wanted it. He would have done it, because he believes so strongly in doing his duty. But he loves his business, and frankly, I love mine.”
“Are you still a matchmaker then?” Layna asked, having been briefed on her future sister-in-law already.
“Yes. We both work less now that we have the children. Lucy and Ella take up a lot of time, after all, but we’re both still heavily committed to the companies we’ve built. Stavros is so interested in bringing more business to Kyonos and he’s thrilled to have more time to focus on that. And more flexibility for the girls. It would have been a hard life for them. Raised with the strictures of being the king and queen’s daughters, with no hope of ever taking the throne. They would be considered second forever, because of their blood.” Jessica’s eyes glittered in the firelight. “The idea of that...I can’t stand it. I’m so glad they were spared it. I had no idea how hard it would be until we were faced with the reality of what it would mean for them.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, either,” Layna said, looking down at her hands. “How terrible it would be for them.” And Xander, how terrible it would have been for him. To be the oldest child in the household and not be the heir. In some households, the matter of blood could be forgotten because love forged the bond. But in a royal house it was different. In a royal house blood was so much more important.
She swallowed and looked up at Eva. “And you, Eva? What about your children? Do you want this for them?”
Eva shook her head. “I’ve always chafed at what was expected of me. I don’t see why my children would be any different.”
“And Eva would be bored with palace life,” Jessica said. “It’s no wonder she had no desire to marry a prince.”
Eva smiled. “Or perhaps I just liked what the bodyguard had on offer.”
Jessica winked broadly and crossed her legs, her tulle skirt fanning out around her. “The prince does all right.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t get prudish on me now, Eva. You didn’t get that baby bump by eating a watermelon seed.”
Eva sniffed. “How very American of you.”
Layna laughed, genuinely enjoying the interplay between the two women. Between these women who would now be her family. And it was a relief to her to hear they didn’t want the throne anywhere near them.
“Yep. I’m totally American like that. Another reason I probably shouldn’t be the queen of anything,” Jessica said.
It all made Layna appreciate the impossible place Xander was in even more. The reason he’d run. The reason everything had felt so hopeless.
It wasn’t enough to have your father look you in the eye and lay the blame for your mother’s death on you. He’d had to experience it knowing that the man wasn’t really his father. That there was no magical bond between them. Not a blood bond.
And in a family like this, blood was everything.
“How about you, Layna?” Eva asked. “Are you all right with being in this position?”
“There is nothing holding me to the position. Nothing forcing my hand.”
“Except for your relationship with Xander,” Jessica said, her eyes narrowed.
She and Xander did have a relationship now, and she couldn’t deny it. Not after they’d been together so intimately. Not when she felt this need to protect him.
“Xander and I have an understanding, based on our desire to see the country succeed. It has always been our goal. We were just derailed for a while.”
The back of her neck prickled and she looked up—Xander was standing the doorway.
“Forgive me if I’m interrupting. But I’m ready to retire. I had thought you might come with me, Layna?”
There was something strange in his eyes. A raw, wounded look that she could see behind the careful facade he had in place.
She always saw through those walls, and sometimes, she wished she didn’t.
Sometimes she wished she could go back to simplifying him. To not seeing him. Or at least to seeing him as nothing more than a playboy. Now she saw all of his wounds. Now she saw he was just as scarred as she was and it made it hard for her to hold onto her anger. Hard to keep her shields up.
And she needed her shields. Because when they were down, it burned like acid. And she knew, better than anyone, just how that felt.
Because she couldn’t deny him now, even if she should. Even if they needed distance from today so that she could make sure she felt shored up again.
But she couldn’t deny him. And she wouldn’t.
“Of course, Xander.” She stood and looked back at Eva and Jessica, who were giving her saucy raised eyebrows. She wanted to tell them it wasn’t what they thought. Except it was what they thought and she knew it. Xander needed her, and if he needed her, it would be her body he required.
And she would give it.
She made her way to the door and took his arm, allowing him to lead her up the stairs and down the winding corridors until they were at his bedchamber.
“I had a maid send your things,” he said. “I didn’t see any point in pretending things weren’t like this between us.”
“Of course not.”
He started to undo his tie, the one she had done earlier. It was a strange thing, to be a part of both rituals. The dressing and the undressing.
It made things feel very serious.
“I suppose you want—” She was going to say “sex” but he sat on the edge of the bed on a heavy sigh that seemed to demand silence.
Then he tented his fingers in front of his face, staring sightlessly ahead. “I feel like it’s wrong not to tell them.”
He wanted to talk? That really did shock her. More than that, it wasn’t what she wanted. It was too much. Too challenging.
“Maybe you should think on it. You’ll feel better after—” Again, she was going to say “sex,” but he pressed on.
“Stavros is well-suited to the position. Listening to his thoughts on the economy I found myself quite humbled. I am not uneducated in these matters, but he’s a man who has examined the way things function on every level. From the workforce to the day-to-day running of things. Stockholders and traders, different kinds of industry. He’s truly a man now and not the boy I often see him as. He makes me feel like the stupid boy, to be honest. He’s been here holding everything up while I’ve been...” He paused and looked down. “Layna, I’ve done less than nothing. I didn’t even have the decency to get employed somewhere, I gambled for room and board. And Mak...he’s not royal and yet he’s got a core of steel. Nothing would ever break him. His children, his and Eva’s, would be well-suited to taking the throne one day.”