by AJ Nuest
Caedmon. With a woman. Her bare backside balanced on the end of his bed.
Naked legs wrapped around his waist. Leather pants riding low on his thighs. His ass clenched and the thrust of his hips driving into her harder and faster with each pump.
No. She slammed the door. She’d seen more than enough.
Tears flooded her eyes, and she spun away from the armoire.
Caedmon wouldn’t do this to her. Dammit, how could he do this to her?
The hinges creaked and, like some sadistic nightmare, the door slowly swung open behind her.
Muffled moans came next. A high-pitched yip as Caedmon’s latest conquest neared climax.
Jesus. Rowena slammed the door a second time and held it in place with her hand.
This couldn’t be happening. How…how could this be happening?
Stretching her leg toward the wall, she caught the bottom rung of a chair on her toe and dragged the seat within reach. Grabbing the sides, she jammed the back rail under the handle and then hopped around, wiggling and shaking her hands.
Flying from the room, she ran down the hall and ransacked her coat for her cell.
God, so gross. He had to know she’d be able to see him. The guy was a Class A pig.
The call rang through and Oliver answered on the second ring. “Hey, doll.”
“I need you.”
“Uh, oh.” Two seconds of dead air reverberated through the line. “Hold tight and drink wine. I’ll be right there.”
* * * * *
A glass of Merlot in hand, Rowena paced the length of her living room, darting uneasy glances down the hall. Caedmon had asked her to trust him. He’d begged her to believe in him and she’d done exactly what he asked.
But the worst part? The truly sickening part? Her belief didn’t even matter anymore. Because the pain in her heart was real.
For God’s sake, how could she have been so stupid? Just like Ollie had said, she’d fallen for every single one of Caedmon’s lines. Thinking he’d started to care for her. That he gave a crap about her feelings or life.
It was the whole Brad thing all over again. Stupid, gullible Rowena bought whatever some cute guy told her only so they could sucker punch her in the gut. She huffed. Apparently there was no shortage of lying, cheating sex addicts no matter what realm they inhabited.
And now what? Gritting her teeth, she brought the glass to her lips and downed a generous swallow. How was she ever supposed to sleep in that room again? How was she supposed to deal with the jackass for another twenty-four hours?
The doorbell buzzed and she jumped before racing for the intercom, pressing the lock release long and hard to make sure Oliver gained entrance to the building.
Flicking the deadbolt, she anxiously shifted as his footsteps pounded up the stairs. The moment he appeared in the stairwell, a knot formed in the base of her throat. She failed at holding back another round of tears.
Her dear, sweet, Ollie. At least she could always rely on him. Funny, how the one man who sincerely cared for her, was the one who would never want her in his bed.
Waving him in, she retreated to her living room and paced the same worn tread across her wooden floor. “He…he…” She pointed down the hall. “I can’t believe he…”
Oliver stepped inside and closed the door, dropped his gym bag near the couch and clasped her upper arms to bring her to a stop. “What happened?”
“He was having sex with her. I opened the armoire and he was having sex with her, Ollie.”
“Who, sweetie?”
“Caedmon and some…some…” She tossed her hand in the air. “Some woman.”
His jaw clenched, fingertips digging into her skin. Nostril flared, he turned and glared in the direction of her room. “Are you telling me you came home to some sort of weird porno going on in your bedroom?”
“Yes!” She threw her fist down at her side.
“That sick, twisted son of a bitch.” He dropped his hands and spun.
Aw, crap. “Wait, Ollie.”
“Don’t even go there.” He halted midstride, holding up his palm. “I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you defend him. We’ve been through this before.”
“No, that’s not it.” She held her finger in the air. Squeezed her eyes shut.
Right. This should be good.
“He thinks you’re a god.” A blink, and she jammed the knuckle of her index finger between her teeth.
“Not surprising.” Ollie tossed his head. “Most men do.”
Her palm hit her thigh with a smack. “Not attractive, Ollie. He thinks you’re an actual god.”
“Oh.” He studied her eyes. “Well, if that’s the way he wants to play it, then I say we don’t disappoint him.”
Marching straight for his gym bag, he rummaged around inside and pulled out a white towel. Bending at the waist, he wrapped it around his head like a turban and stood.
She lifted her brows, taking in his yellow polo shirt, purple spandex riding shorts, down to the athletic shoes on his feet.
Oh, dear God. He couldn’t be serious.
“This is your god outfit?”
“It’s the best I can do at the moment.” Securing the towel at back of his head, he turned and patted the sides. “How do I look?”
“Like Gloria Swanson.”
“Perfect.” He pivoted and disappeared down the hall.
Rowena counted to ten. Then twenty, then thirty before chugging the rest of her wine and tiptoeing after him. Like the scene of a gruesome accident, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the armoire, and at the same time, she couldn’t resist eavesdropping on their conversation.
Easing her bedroom door open on its hinges, she peeked around the threshold.
“I would rather sever my right arm.” The anger in Caedmon’s voice could’ve easily stripped paint off a wall.
“That, I would be happy to arrange.” Oliver crossed his legs, the chair centered in front of the armoire and orange fire-glow highlighting his angular features.
“I gladly incite the wrath of you or any god before I would betray Her Radiance in such a way.”
“Save it, Prince whatever-your-name-is.” He flicked his hand to the side. “Deny all you want but, I’m telling you right now, she saw you with her own eyes.”
Stepping inside, Rowena stole across the floor and stood outside the view of the mirror.
“She has just entered the room. Her presence defines me more than my own.”
Oh, shit. She pressed three fingertips to her lips.
A glance at her, and one of Ollie’s eyebrows twitched.
“Please, my lady. I just this moment returned to my chambers. You must know… My sweet Rowena, you must know, I would never mistreat you in such a way.”
No. She slashed her fingers across her neck. She did not want to talk to him. The tender way he treated her had already pulled the plug on her resolve and it was circling the drain.
“Hold on, you left?” Sitting forward, Ollie pointed at the floor. “Where did you go?”
“Should not a god be able to divine the answer?” A hefty dose of sarcasm leaked through the mirror, followed by a heavy sigh. “Her Radiance gave me leave to attend my duties, but I see now this was a dire mistake. Treachery is afoot, and this is what comes of disregarding the Council. If she never forgives me, I shall die a miserable man.”
“Yep, she’s totally out of your league.” Frowning, Oliver tapped his lips. “And who besides you and Her Radiance knew you were leaving?”
“Master Emsworth, but no oth…”
Silence stretched, and Rowena waited a beat before twirling her hand in the air. Yeah, and?
“Goddesses’ tits!”
A frantic scrambling, and Oliver flinched, his eyes widening to the size of two, huge blue saucers.
What the hell? Curiosity finally got the best of her, and Rowena stepped around the door. The mirror hung at the same strange angle as before, but no one was in Caedmon’s room. “What just happene
d?”
“Dammed if I know.” Oliver scratched at the light-blond stubble on his cheek. “He freaked out and suddenly ran off to the side.”
A loud bang vibrated the glass, and she flinched at the same time Ollie slapped his palm to his chest. A few seconds later, Caedmon stormed into view, dragging a helmeted guard by the scruff of his neck.
The Prince wore his leg-o’-mutton coat and blue pantaloons, but his jaw was cut hard enough to bend metal, and fury smoldered like two bits of coal in his gaze.
He grabbed the chain mail near the young man’s shoulders and set the guard on his feet. Snatching a handful of his blue velvet tunic, Caedmon stood behind the guard and shoved him within inches of the glass. “You have but one chance to respond truthfully or I shall gut you where you stand.”
Wow. She blinked. That grating snarl was a great reminder to never piss him off.
“My God.” Ollie’s breathy whisper came off as winded as her. “He’s like this sexy, English panther. Rawrrr.”
The guard nodded, shaking in his boots. Chain mail tinkled near the backs of his thighs.
“Who entered my chamber whilst I was away?”
Venom dripped from each of Caedmon’s words and the guard closed his eyes.
“Answer me!” He smashed the young man’s face to the glass and the mirror in Rowena’s bedroom clattered against the door.
She jumped as Oliver squeaked and protectively lifted his leg, shielding the bottom half of his face with his fists.
“P-p-prince Braedric, Your Highness.” A bead of sweat rolled down the guard’s temple, his off-kilter helmet as crooked as his flattened nose. “He said I should alert him if you d-departed. Th-that you would never last three days locked in your chamber.”
“Damn, this is better than Game of Thrones.” Ollie elbowed her side. “Who’s Braedric? Quick, catch me up.”
Caedmon yanked the man back and smacked him to the mirror a second time, rattling the frame. “Who else, you fool?”
“A chambermaid, my lord.” The guard spoke quickly. “Annie from the kitchens.”
Relief flooded her chest, and Rowena slowly closed her eyes. Of course. The shrouded mirror, the similar build…the way Braedric had gotten all bent out of shape when Caedmon had been named Rescinder.
Now that made sense. And even better, the explanation hadn’t come from Caedmon, but from third party altogether. Yep. Braedric just couldn’t stand how he’d been passed over for a position he’d always assumed was rightfully his.
God, the man was a piece of work. If she ever got lucky enough to dive through the mirror, her first order of business would be to clock him upside the head. “Braedric is the resident asshole. Caedmon’s older half-brother and first in line to the throne.”
Wrenching the guard back from the mirror, Caedmon seized him by the throat. “You speak of this to no one, do you hear me? Nary a soul.”
Oliver sniffed and crossed his arms. “Or I shall summon a pox on your man parts. May they fall off and die.”
The guard whimpered and covered his crotch with both hands.
Caedmon’s gaze inched left until he’d locked onto Oliver. Skepticism kept his expression deadpan, but Rowena didn’t miss the humor sparkling in his eyes. “Now leave my sight and never return.”
The guard staggered back several steps before straightening his helmet. He whirled toward the hallway and slammed the door as he left.
“Well.” Oliver’s shoulders hiked near his ears, dropping several inches as he loudly exhaled. “That had to be the most gallant display I’ve ever seen.”
But to Rowena, Caedmon was the only thing that mattered, and the unbelievable regret swirling through the depths of his soulful brown gaze.
“The blood boils in my veins to learn you fell victim to Braedric’s scheming, my lady. Shall I dispatch with him now or after you place judgment?”
She smiled. “I think the best revenge would be to forget this entire incident ever happened. Braedric comes across as the kind of guy who hates to be ignored.”
Satisfaction cleared the crease from Caedmon’s brow. A thrill heated in her stomach as his focus dropped to her mouth. “As always, your shrewd wit and stunning beauty leave me humbled.” He placed his hand on the glass. “Please forgive me, my heart.”
Good God, where, oh where did he come up with those amazing one-liners?
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Caedmon. There is nothing to forgive.” Rounding Oliver’s side, she lined up her fingers to match those of her prince.
The mirror sizzled and hummed. Warm air drifted past her senses.
She filled her lungs and held onto the mingled scents of leather, candle wax and the heady musk of Caedmon’s skin.
Oliver gasped and shot to his feet. “No way. Are you kidding me?”
Glancing at Rowena, he approached the armoire and tentatively brought his index finger to the glass. Before he made contact a bolt of electricity shot from the surface and crackled along his skin.
“Ouch. Dammit.” He stuck the tip in his mouth.
Caedmon’s rough chuckle created the perfect bass undertone to her laugh. She met his eyes and her heart swelled. Joy doused her soul in a wave of the purest bright light. “I told you this was real, Ollie.”
He studied the end of his finger before rubbing his thumb along the red skin. “I believe you, and I take back everything I said about doubting your judgment.” He shook his head, smiling. “You’ve got a magic mirror in your closet, doll.”
Slipping her arm through his, she tugged him toward the door. Not one doubt remained. “I know I do.”
“And you’ve got your very own prince, who lives in a kingdom.”
“Yep.” She led a dazed Oliver toward the hall, peeking over her shoulder at Caedmon. “I’ll be right back.”
“I anxiously await your return.”
“Oh, and for the record?” Ollie drew up short and her hand snagged on his elbow as he wrinkled his nose at Caedmon. “I knew you’d be fabulous, and I love your coat.”
Chapter Seven
The hasp clicked into the latch, and Rowena twisted the deadbolt in place. A spin on her toes and she rested her back against the front door.
Did Caedmon have any idea what he meant to her? Did he know how leaping to her defense had blissed her out in a full-blown knight-in-shining-armor high?
God, if only she couldn’t thank him the way he deserved.
A shiver lifted the hair on her arms. Her nipples beaded against her lacy bra, and she laced her fingers under her chin.
She’d start out by devouring his totally edible lips. Smother them with kisses and then kiss them some more. She’d glide her palms over his shoulders. Explore every dip and curve. Down his arms to his rock-hard biceps. Over his ribs to rake her nails through that soft line of hair near his waist.
And as she tangled her tongue with his, he’d moan into her mouth. Tug her onto his lap so she could clamp his tapered hips between her thighs. Their bodies would fit. A perfect match. She’d sneak her hand inside his leather pants and stroke him from base to tip.
Faster. Harder. Until his control snapped, and he flipped her onto his bed.
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down to stifle a groan. Her shoulders sagged, and the walls of her condo cleared through the fog of her sex-induced haze.
What was she doing? Nothing like a little masochism to end the day. She and Caedmon didn’t have a future together. For God’s sake, they lived in two different worlds.
Unwinding her fingers, she lifted the key from between her breasts and studied it in her palm. This mysterious object had brought them together. The thing she didn’t understand was why. To take Caedmon at face value, to accept he was a prince of the Austiere Kingdom ultimately doomed them to failure. She couldn’t give him the key even if she wanted to. Even if she tried.
Shaking her head, she pushed off from the door and clicked off the living room light as she headed into the kitchen. Or maybe she’d misrea
d the entire situation and he wasn’t after the key at all.
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d made the wrong assumption. The Gleaning was a prime example. During the past two days, if anyone had done the collecting it was her. Gathering the details of his life. Learning everything she could about him bit by bit.
But what good had that done her? They still only had this one last night together. Sometime tomorrow, the mirror would shatter and they’d be separated by insurmountable odds.
A quick refresher of her wine, and she tossed together a small garden salad, flicked off the overhead with her elbow and entered the bathroom to change.
Shedding her work clothes was like ridding a persona she no longer recognized. Thanks to Caedmon, she finally felt like a woman again. For the first time in years, someone had told her she was beautiful. Desirable. Someone to respect who was worthy of love.
How was she supposed to say goodbye to that? How was she supposed to go back to work and pretend as if nothing had changed?
She unhooked her favorite cotton nightgown from the back of the door. The airy material grazed her bottom and the tops of her thighs as it tumbled to the floor. It was silly how many times she tied and retied the white ribbon woven into the scoop-necked collar. The way she fussed with cap sleeves to make sure they sat even on her shoulders.
She just wanted to look her best for Caedmon. Show her appreciation in the one way she could.
By the time she’d finished brushing her hair it glowed, hanging smooth and sleek past her shoulders. A few handfuls of water to wash the day’s grit from her face, and she applied some light make-up. Mascara, blush, the sweep of some lip gloss to make her lips sparkle and shine.
A tight cinch to the tie of her silk bathrobe, and she reclaimed dinner, padding barefoot down the hall into her room.
One glance inside the mirror, and she smiled. The angle inside Caedmon’s room had changed again but, this time, the view was from opposite his desk. As if he’d balanced the frame on the arms of a chair so the two of them could have dinner together.
A white linen tablecloth covered the top, a silver goblet and a bottle of wine stood beside his plate. The savory aromas of roasted chicken and baked summer squash blended with the gentle undercurrent of melted wax. The flickering candles throughout his room were cozy and added a subtle layer of romance.