by Nicole Snow
They're hoisting him up on a stretcher, rolling him back through the greenhouse, when I see someone who should not be here.
No, two very out of place someones. Serena stands there in plastic handcuffs, held by two guards, glaring hatefully at me. Like I didn't just stop her from tearing my servant's throat out.
The other person is Her Majesty. Grandmom looks like she's just woken up, standing in a regal white flowing gown, without a single piece of jewelry on her royal skin.
“What's the meaning of this, Silas?”
My fucking heart sinks. This night couldn't get any worse. Oh, except for having to admit that I'd tried to strike a deal with Serena Hastings behind her back.
“I tried to talk to Serena,” I tell her, not knowing where the hell I should begin. “Things went bloody crazy. She attacked me, and stabbed Victor.”
“You're telling her I struck first, you bastard, after everything you said?!” Serena screams against the wall, beyond deranged. “It was self-defense! I'd do it all over again! I swear, I'll –“
“Get her the fuck out here!” I roar to the guards, wishing it were just as easy to dismiss this whole evil situation.
“Belay that order,” Her Majesty snaps. “She isn't going anywhere until you tell me exactly what's going on in my palace, Silas.”
I'm screwed. If I hide the truth, it's only going to piss her off more, and that might tip her health into the red zone.
The truth, that's all I have, the only thing that hasn't been shot to shit by the last twenty-four hours.
Okay.
“We know what happened at tea, grandmom. Erin's gone. Dealing with this bitch ripped her heart out, sent her running to Mexico, to be with her father. Can't blame her, honestly. I pushed this on her. In the beginning, this whole wedding was going to be a fraud.” I pause, watching as my grandmother's matching blue eyes go huge. “It isn't that way anymore, Your Majesty. I swear on every single thing I've got. We were just playing pretend, Erin and me, a selfish plan I hatched to save my image. I took your advice, and I wanted to take the pressure off you so the kingdom would think I'd be fit for the crown someday.”
I take another breath. Every drop of blood running through my veins feels like it's on fire. I wonder if anyone's ever spontaneously self-combusted from a confession before.
“Go on.” That's all she says, tapping her exuberant cane against the stone floor.
Fuck, why isn't she saying anything? I clear my throat and do as she asks.
“I know it was wrong. Just like the way I tried to bring Serena here. I tried to negotiate some way to pay her off tonight so she'd leave us all alone.” I close the distance between grandmom and me, never breaking eye contact. “They say love causes people to act like idiots. I didn't understand that until just recently. After our pretend engagement became real, little by little. I'm going after her, Your Majesty. Nothing means more to me now.”
Boom. Right between the eyes. I'm amazed my grandmother remains silent.
“Do whatever you need to. No hard feelings. I'll resign my crown, my title, give up every damned Euro and dollar in my accounts. You can make my cousin in Sealesland heir to the throne, and I'll never step foot on this island again. I'm sorry as hell to leave Serena and her crap on your plate, grandmom, but I'm not sure what she can do after cutting into Vic like that. I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. I have to go soon.”
“Silas...shut up.” She blinks, letting out a sigh that sounds like she's been holding it in for fifty years. “There's an awful lot I'll never understand about you. If the last twenty-five years have taught me anything, it's that. But I do understand a man and woman in love, as well as an intruder in the way. There's nothing more to explain, son. You're free.”
Her old, bony hand lands gently on my shoulder. Free?
“Find her. Bring her back. She'll make a beautiful Princess for this kingdom, and you're going to make a better King than I'd believed, one day.” Her head turns, focusing her gaze on Serena, up against the wall. “I'll deal with this despicable traitor myself. You, boy, follow your heart.”
I'm smiling. Leave it to the royal wannabe bitch in the corner to kill the mood.
“That's it? Are you fucking kidding me? You're mad! All of you! The Republic First idiots are right. This crown deserves to fall, for the good of the country. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that happens – just watch!”
Nobody moves except grandmom. I watch her, heading for Serena and the guards at a slow hobble. I barely hear what she whispers to Dean and the other boys until I step up.
“Turn her around, please,” Her Majesty says.
Serena won't stop seething. She's disrespecting everything she ever swore to serve. Fucking hypocrite.
I'm standing by, hoping grandmom knows what she's doing, dangerously close to this psychopath. Serena opens her mouth to bitch again, but nothing ever comes out.
Her Majesty's soft, wrinkled hand slaps our ex-press secretary across the face. It echoes through the greenhouse like a gunshot.
Everybody stops, stares in shock. I hope those guards remembered to keep their grip on the asshole.
“I've had enough of your mouth!” Grandmom says, turning to Dean. “Take her to the auxiliary holding area. We'll deal with the police report there. I'm going to come clean to the ministers about everything that's happened here tonight, but I'd like to make certain Miss Hastings doesn't set one foot onto the streets until she has a qualified doctor and a parole officer assigned.”
“Auxiliary holding area?” Dean looks at the other guard, smiling. “Right away, Your Majesty!”
That's the formal name for the five hundred year old dungeon underneath the palace. An off-the-books prison that isn't supposed to be used except for overflow in times of war or national crisis.
Serena doesn't even spill any more venom as they're hauling her out. I think we're all too stunned to do anything. Grandmom slowly turns to me, leaning on her cane, like slapping Serena has sapped her energy.
“Why are you still standing there, Silas? Don't you know where your lady has gone?”
“I have a good idea,” I say, walking up to her while Patricia comes out the door and grabs my grandmom by the arm, helping steady her.
“Take the first royal jet you see to Mexico, then. I'll handle the rest of this nasty, nasty business.”
I nod, more than ready to head for the airport. But I stop first, and throw my arms around the old woman.
We've always been distant. That's the way it is between a royal living legend, and a man who hasn't been fit to fill her throne until just recently.
But tonight, we're family. One and the same.
We're Bearingtons. Always just, savage when we need to be, and determined as the mythic eagle stamped on my chest until the day I die.
One Week Later
It's a resort. I'm on the highest level, overlooking the cancer treatment center, an unassuming facility at the edge of this luxury circus.
It's taken me several days since landing to find out where she is. Special intelligence had to track her down at my request because she'd chosen a small hostel outside the resort zone.
Smart, if she wants to disappear completely. It costs me and my men some effort.
I could've confronted her at the hospital, sure, but the visiting hours are always irregular. And the last first impression I want to make on her old man is seeing me begging her to come back.
That's right. Prince Silas Bearington III, ex-soldier, badass, biggest swinging dick in Europe, is ready to do whatever it takes to tear my heart out and hand it to the woman I love. Even if it means crawling to her on my hands and knees.
I can't lose this girl. I can't fuck this up.
I can't go home without her.
I won't walk away, even if I have to spend years in the Americas convincing her we're meant to be together.
My small, but devoted security detail would never let me slip into city without them. But I do it anyway, taking
a taxi. I keep my t-shirt and my shades pulled tight, praying nobody will recognize a billionaire Prince among them.
Thankfully, there's not as much celeb gossip here as the States.
The taxi driver stops in front of a dirty, ancient looking building. He mutters a few words in Spanish, telling me the price and wishing me well.
I pop the door, stuffing the biggest tip he's ever gotten into his hand on the way out. He calls after me, wondering if it's a mistake or I'm positively loco. I don't bother stopping.
It's early morning, just after five o'clock. Nothing's stopping me.
The place isn't as dirty inside, but it's not exactly up to Western standards either. Instead of rooms, people are gathered in huge wards by gender, with privacy curtains to pull shut at night.
The woman at the desk can't give me a precise spot where I'll find Erin. She turns her nose up, though, muttering about that wounded American girl, the one who's kept several other girls up at night with her crying.
I've come to the right place. I creep into the women's section, careful to only take the quickest peek behind the curtains. Stealth combat training comes in handy here. I'm still expecting one of them to see me for a second too long, and wake up the whole room screaming.
I see her as soon as I peel back the last little curtain in the corner. I'd know that body I've had wrapped around me anywhere.
Fuck, she's beautiful. She's sleeping, the faintest morning light seeping through the curtain, falling across her dark hair. I push past it and wait there until she stirs.
At first, she doesn't see me. When I move my hand up to rub my face, she jumps, jerking up flat against the headboard.
“Silas? You can't be here!”
“Believe it, Princess. I've come for what's mine.” I step up to the bed, pulling her into my arms.
She's too stunned to fight for the first few seconds. Then she starts twisting like mad, wriggling away, throwing me off.
“What the hell's wrong with you, love? Sorry about the surprise. Didn't have much choice.”
Her tits look like ripe fruits swinging in that gown. My dick swells for the first time in what feels like forever, begging for the pussy it's craving something fierce.
“No. You're not supposed to be here. You can't be. I'm going home to LA with dad in just a few days. He's about to be discharged.”
Folding my arms, I smile through the dim light. “He's cured? Great. I knew the magnificent bastards here would come through for him. Guess I'll be booking a flight to LA next, too.”
Those lips I want to ravish all day drop. Her sweet head shakes, amusement and sadness written all over her face in one warring symphony.
“No. No, Silas. This is crazy. I left Saint Moore behind, and I left you, too.” She looks up, tears wavering in her big brown eyes. “I can't be responsible for tearing that place apart. It isn't my country. Whatever else we had, I corrupted you. I set you up for doing dumb things that let Serena weasel her way into threats. No more.”
“You're wrong, love. Serena's been dealt with. The crazy bitch tried to stab me, missed, and hit Victor instead. She's done.” While she's staring at me all shocked, I throw my arm around her tighter, pulling her into my embrace. “He's okay. Recovering at the royal hospital. Lost a lot of blood.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. Grandmom's going to come clean about the money that was moved around. I'd bet everything that nobody in the parliament has the balls to say boo about it. Anybody running for election has done a hundred times worse, and the Queen's popularity has never been higher.”
“What about yours? Does the kingdom know anything?”
I pause. “They know you haven't been seen for a few days. They know the former press secretary stormed out of tea with us. The tabloids are starting to bark, saying our wedding's off, that the whole thing was a fickle fucking sham from the start. Look at me, Erin.”
I tilt her face up. She's crying now, biting her lip, shaking her head weakly. She's telling me no, no, no, fighting her basest instincts.
Ask me if I care. I'm going to remind her what we have, take her home with me, and show her why she's never running away again.
“I don't care how rough it gets. I'd dump my crown for you, love, without hesitation. What started on a lie, it's too damned real to give up. We both know it.”
She's too hurt. Too conflicted. She still won't look at me.
I push my fingers gently into her jaw line, tip her face up, until she finally opens those beautiful eyes. Mine lock on like hawks, holding her gaze, showing her the want.
I'm not afraid to open up anymore. I'm showing her what no woman's ever seen, the gnawing want for her, blazing down to my very soul.
“Erin...”
“Silas...I can't. It's wrong. We're not right for each other...I realize that now. We're too different. It's never going to change, not in a hundred million years. We don't belong together. I know it, and I think you do, too.”
“Enough. You're wrong, love, and I'm going to prove it. Kiss me, then tell me what you just said isn't bullshit.”
I don't give her time to turn away. My lips crush down on hers, hungrier than they've ever been, relishing the sugary sweetness of her lips like it's the last time.
Because if I can't convince her, it might be.
I might be going back to Saint Moore empty-fucking-handed.
No. No! I won't let that happen, no matter how much heaven and hell I have to pay.
Our tongues touch. I take hers, twine it around mine, feeling the same electric heat we had the very first time. We're reliving every kiss in this one.
Every fight. Every tease. Every night we ever fucked, plus the very moment when fucking blurred into making love.
I used to hate that phrase, 'making love.' It sounds like some stupid flowery shit prudes use to convince themselves they aren't after just as much nasty, glorious pleasure as the rest of us.
But with her, the woman I have on my lips, I felt it a few times. I want – no, need – to feel it again. Have it over and over and over for the rest of my life.
It hurts like hell to pull my lips away, but I have to. Need to hear her answer. She's lost in my eyes again, too screwed up to speak.
“One word, babe. That's all you've got to tell me right now. Say you're coming home. Say we still have a wedding to go to. You want to be mine, I can see it shining clear as day in your eyes. Erin, love, it doesn't have to be complicated. Just tell me we can get past this, all the evil, stupid things that happened. We can be husband and wife. Prince and Princess. Real, not fake, so fucking real it seems like everything else in this world's a hollowed out ghost. You're feeling it, love, yeah? Tell me you are.”
It takes her a few seconds. Several terrible, heart wrenching seconds that almost turn my heart into a black mass of dripping tar.
Then she says it. “Yes! Okay, maybe we can make this work, you bastard. It hurts too much to lie. I love you.”
“Prince Bastard has a damned good ring to it, love, as long as that's what you're calling me in bed.”
“Better than Prince Hung,” she whispers.
The next time we kiss, I feel her smiling underneath my lips. This love tastes better than ever before.
A couple days later, we're planning to embark, returning to the kingdom, hand in hand. She's happy to be in my room and out of that cramped hostel. There's just one last unfinished item on the agenda waiting for us at the treatment center.
“Here we are again, Tom. You're holding all the cards for this interview, though, trust me,” I say, sitting next to my princess, holding her hand.
“Yeah, and they're all Jokers. Wilds. I still can't believe my daughter is about to marry a Prince. Right out of a fairy tale.”
Erin's father looks good for just surviving hell. He's lost some weight, looks like he could use some red meat to put color in his skin, but otherwise, he's doing better.
“Oh, daddy. It's surprisingly normal,” she says, squeezing my hand. “No glas
s slippers or evil witches here.”
I'm sure her dear old dad's read plenty in the tabloids and trash blogs. But he doesn't have a clue what we went through to get here, approaching our happily ever after, if only we can get his blessing.
“Your Highness, marriage aside, I owe you my life,” Tom says, nodding respectfully. “If it hadn't been for you, for this place, I doubt I'd be fit to see my daughter again. Much less walk her down the aisle. They do that in Saint Moore, don't they?”
I smile, straightening up in my chair. “We have our own traditions, yes, but there's plenty of room to make accommodations for the bride's family.”
“So, you're in, daddy?” she whispers excitedly, bouncing her knees a couple times.
We've spent the last two days fucking our brains out, catching up on what we've been missing. Damn if every gesture she makes, every movement rippling her curves, doesn't make my dick throb for more.
“LA can wait.” Tom stands up, without so much as a tremor, walking over to embrace her. “I'd be a fool if I weren't there to see you off. Also, to remind His Highness that he's going to have hell to pay if he ever hurts you, disappoints you, or screws you over. I don't care if I wind up in a dungeon for spilling blue blood.”
He gives me a sharp look. One I respect. I nod, pulling Erin's hand fully into my lap, protective as ever.
“It's just Silas now, Tom. No more of that Highness crap. Save your threats for somebody who needs them,” I say, bringing my woman's hand to my mouth. “I know my reputation. I've played around and shamed myself more times than anybody will ever know. All that's behind me now. The only woman I'll ever need is right here next to me. I'll make her happy if it kills me.”
My lips brush the back of her hand. They're both smiling, staring at me, making the whole room light up with more than just the hot, airy Mexican sun seeping through the windows.
“I know you will, son. I've done my share of interviews before the Big C laid me low, and there's a good chance I'll do some more. I know what a changed man looks like. I'm staring at one now.”
It's ridiculous, but Tom's words mean more than they should. He's right.