Complete Me (Royals Saga Book 7)

by Geneva Lee

  “I’m here now,” I said in a soft voice. There was no way to be sure she would find that comforting, but it was all I had to offer. I took a step closer, careful not touch her. “You know what to say.”

  Given the hurt shining in her eyes, I knew she needed to be reminded that one word would stop all of this., When her mouth opened she said something I didn’t expect. “Please.”

  My fists clenched into balls as the request processed. My hand dropped to cup the mound of her sex and she moaned. I felt my balls constrict at the sensation of wet heat. Clara tried to push against my touch as if she was desperate for more, but I wouldn’t take her this way. I’d always rewarded her trust and tonight would be no exception. Stooping, I undid her bindings and took care to rub the indentations the rope had left in her soft flesh. When she was free and I had massaged away any lingering discomfort, I helped her into a sitting position. Seating myself beside her, I waited. She moved like her limbs were foreign objects until slowly she lowered her body onto my lap. I drew her legs around my waist, encouraging my dick to sink deeper. Clara’s breath caught as I impaled her and she released it with a strangled cry as I took her hips and gently rocked her. She stared at me, her expression unreadable, and as we climbed together, she brought her hands to my face to trace the curves of my jawline and my brow. Then she kissed me deeply. She was my air and I released her hips, clutching her body to mine. I would never let her go. I couldn’t.

  “I love you,” I groaned when the kiss broke. Clara’s eyes stayed trained on mine, and as I felt the first spasm of pleasure grip my cock, I saw sadness wash over her. We rode out our climax together, but I refused to relinquish her when the waves subsided. She pulled against my hold and I loosened my grip, but only enough to allow her to draw back. She slapped me with a force that vibrated across my cheek.

  Shoving me to the mattress, she extricated her body from mine and backed away. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “Clara.” I sat up, alarmed. Every ounce of me wanted to go to her and hold her while she raged and sobbed. Whatever it would take, I would give—just as she’d given me my darkest fantasy. But I stayed still. Right now the best thing I could do was listen and hear what she was saying. “Clara, I—”

  “Don’t bother,” she advised me, her voice rich with warning. “I asked for it, didn’t I? So that made it okay?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

  “Leave.”

  If there was ever any question that she was a queen, that command laid it to rest. She lorded over me, too far to touch as I got to my feet. I hesitated and turned to her, but she looked past me as if she couldn’t see me. Or perhaps, and the thought left a sick dread in its wake, as if she didn’t want to.

  I bent and collected my pants from the floor. Sliding them on, I tried to buy myself more time with her. Maybe the more willing I was to meet her demands, the sooner she would unleash the full force of her fury. I didn’t look forward to that, but facing the storm would be better than remaining in purgatory. When I slid the buckle of my belt into place, she was still pointing at the door. I guessed I had my answer. I collected my shirt and left the room, shutting the door behind me. A few moments later I heard the lock click in place.

  “Good job,” I told myself. I couldn’t help but feel torn. Had I really expected a different outcome? My eyes clenched shut and before I realized what I was doing, my fist slammed into the wall. The ancient plaster cracked but didn’t give way.

  Why had she let me touch her if she was that angry? She had every opportunity to use her safe word. Instead she had asked me to touch her. I didn’t know what it meant but my heart sank into my stomach.

  Penny, the nursemaid, came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. She gawked at my half-clothed body and I felt my anger rise to the surface.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be,” I barked.

  The poor girl jumped a little, then scurried away. I could only imagine the rumors that would be circulating amongst the staff in a matter of hours. Wadding my shirt in my hands, I stalked back to the bottle of bourbon I’d left behind.

  After an hour, I checked our bedroom door and found it unlocked. I peeked behind it, but the room was empty. The only sign of occupancy were the wrinkles we’d left behind on the damask bed spread. The fireplace was unlit and that fact, combined with Clara’s absence from our bedroom, left the space cold and lifeless. If my wife wasn’t enjoying the few hours of sleep she could expect before Elizabeth woke us in the night, then she was fuming. I didn’t dare think of it as sulking or pouting. She had a right to her anger. What I’d done was inexcusable, even by my standards and since I had no plans to apologize, I knew I shouldn’t expect a reprieve. We might find ourselves well into the new year before she forgave me.

  Abandoning the empty bedroom, I sought her in the only other place she ever frequented in the short time we had lived here. I’d made certain that the Queen’s Sitting Room was updated for her use as soon as I learned that we must move. My grandmother had been the last person to use the parlour regularly and I knew Clara would appreciate neither her decorating or feeling as if she was under the former Queen Mother’s thumb. Grandmother had removed herself to Sandringham shortly after the coronation, so none of us would have to keep up the pretenses of civility.

  I’d asked the staff to make the room feel light and airy, wanting to give Clara a place that felt entirely different than the rest of our palatial home. It was impossible to cover up the gilded carvings around the room, but they’d been minimized by sheer curtains that allowed sunlight to stream into the room. Now at night ribbons of moonlight slanted across the furniture inside. Clara was tucked into a ball on one, staring out the window into the starless night. I cleared my throat to warn her of my entrance, but she didn’t bother to look to me.

  “Poppet,” I tested the waters with my pet name. Still no response. I debated my options. If I continued to call out to her, it was likely she would continue to ignore me. If I went to her, I could expect a physical response. She’d never had control over her body in my presence. However, given what I’d put her through, it felt wrong to rely on such provocation.

  “Are you going to stand there and muse all night?” she said softly, her eyes directed away from me.

  The fact that she was talking to me seemed a good sign, but I didn’t miss how she kept her body turned from me. It was a message. I crossed an important boundary. Throughout our relationship, I had been the one to insist on precautions to protect her from my unpredictable nature. What was worse that I had disregarded my own rules or that I didn’t feel sorry for them?

  “Clara, I…” I trailed away, unsure what I should say.

  “Don’t apologize,” she demanded.

  “I wasn’t going to,” I told her softly. Despite her command, she turned a furious gaze on me. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman said one thing when she felt entirely the opposite. I’m not certain what it said about the male sex that it still surprised us.

  “You should!” she exploded, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees and clutching them to her body.

  “You’re giving me mixed signals, poppet.” It was the wrong thing to say. I knew the moment it left my mouth, and now I would suffer the consequences of two verbal slip-ups.

  “I am?” she asked in disbelief, her blue eyes flashing darkly. “I’m giving you mixed signals. Well, Your Majesty, you have a convenient habit of choosing which of your own rules you want to follow.”

  “I deserve that.” But the admission wasn’t going to appease her.

  “For example, you were the one who insisted that we have a safe word,” she continued, “but you have to be in the same goddamn room to know if I’m going to use it.”

  “You weren’t in danger,” I reminded her gently. “Be rational.”

  “Don’t you ever tell a woman who’s tied up and alone to rationalize her situation. You promised to protect me.”

  Admittedly her accus
ation stung. But that was what she didn’t understand. I had been protecting her. If I could only make her understand. First, I would have to get a word in edgewise.

  “You’re also supposed to respect me,” she said.

  “Clara,” I cut her off sharply. There was a time and place for feelings, but I could no longer allow her to misinterpret my actions. “I do respect you.”

  “Like hell you do.”

  “I respect you and I was protecting you.” I kept going in an attempt to explain myself before she ran away from me. “Will you let me explain?”

  “You can try.” Her words sliced through the air but her chin dropped to rest on her knees. She was granting me an audience, but I knew I only had one chance to get this right.

  “You offered me anything I needed from you.” I paused and waited for her to confirm this. All I got was a begrudging tilt of her head. “So, I took what I needed.”

  “Bravo,” she interjected. “That really clears things up.”

  I had expected that response. I didn’t relish how long it might take for her to see the situation through my eyes. “You know that I struggle with my compulsions. You’ve lived through the bodyguards and the distance and—”

  “And the stalking?” she suggested.

  I felt a twitch of annoyance in my jaw, but I ignored it. “Since that night in Brimstone I have wanted to take you and lock you away. I’ve wanted to keep you from the world, so they could never hurt you. I understand that’s not the politically correct way to have a relationship.” I attempted a small smile but it was met with a glare.

  “That’s not the sane way to have a relationship, X.”

  Using my nickname? I decided to take it as another good sign. “I resisted my urges then and focused on less mental ways of protecting you. I know you hate the bodyguards and security sweeps.”

  “They’re part of being with you,” she said, “and I accepted that. But if you’re going to tell me that you need to lock me away to satisfy your compulsions, then you can kindly go and fuck yourself.”

  “I don’t need that,” I reassured her.

  “Then what was that?” she cried out. Our eyes met and I saw the moisture pooling near the edges. She blinked, but the tears didn’t dissipate. “I told you to take what you needed. I want to give you want you need, but I don’t know if I can give you that.”

  “I don’t need you to.” I was repeating myself, although I knew it wouldn’t reassure her. “I took advantage of your offer.”

  “You took advantage of my submission,” she whispered.

  “I was always going to push your boundaries.” I felt sick saying it. I thought I’d become a better man for her. Now I realized I was still as fucked up as ever.

  “And there will be no apologies for that,” she said.

  I shook my head. “I took what you gave freely.”

  Clara stood in a rush, her eyes darting between me and the door. I knew she was calculating whether she could get around me. When she stayed frozen in place, I guessed that she decided she couldn’t. That left her with pushing my boundaries: would I be able to let her go? Would I come after her?

  History proved I would, and we both knew it.

  “Clara, I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

  She laughed mirthlessly and tightened the sash of her robe with a quick yank. “It’s a bit late for that. If you wanted to be in my good graces you could have just tied me up and fucked me. I thought we were past this controlling bullshit.”

  The string of profanities littering her responses told me that she had only gotten more frustrated with me.

  “I wish I could be the man you deserve,” I admit.

  “I do, too.” Her words were a slap in the face, but she didn’t back down. “But you are the man I want—the man that I chose. That doesn’t absolve you from what you did, though. When are you going to see that I’m here with you? You aren’t going to scare me away, X. Not if you give me yourself. But you might push me away if you keep taking me without letting me in.”

  “I want your life to be full of happiness.” Not stress or fear. I didn’t want to burden my beautiful wife with the secrets that continued to crash down upon me.

  “How can it be when you keep resurrecting walls between us?” The softness of her words only made them fall heavier. “I know that we aren’t like most couples. You have to guide a country. I can’t run out to the market. So much of our lives have been determined for us.”

  “For that I am sorry.” I’d tried to let Clara go when we first met, because I knew that claiming her would only bind her to a life of responsibility.

  “I chose that life,” she reminded me, taking a tentative step in my direction before she stopped again. If we were too close to one another, we’d fall back on bad habits and wind up in each other’s arms. “But the duty should never affect us. There are no security precautions or state secrets. There can’t be. You know that.”

  “Most of what I deal with would bore you,” I assured her with a wink.

  “Don’t you dare!” She pointed a finger at me. “Don’t pretend like it’s all boring, mundane action items. You are keeping something from me. You have been since we were in DC.”

  “Clara, I only want to—”

  “Protect me?” she guessed with a sigh. “You aren’t. You’re protecting yourself. Maybe you think I’ll be angry or maybe you don’t really trust me. Honestly, trying to figure out why you keep secrets is exhausting. I didn’t marry you to have secrets between us.”

  “I won’t ask you to carry them.”

  “Don’t you see?” she asked in a weary voice. “You don’t have a choice. We’re in this together. I can’t imagine telling you that I don’t need your help.”

  “You do all the time,” I said dryly.

  “But you’re still there, helping me,” she corrected. “It’s what we do. Distance doesn’t work for us. We might as well try to be abstinent. It will go over about as well as you keep secrets. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone, and I don’t want you to. That’s what I was offering you tonight. All of me. You want to protect me, but when will you see that I want to protect you?”

  It took all my resolve not to gather her in my arms and carry her to our bed. I’d overstepped a line tonight and I wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability in this moment. Especially given that I couldn’t tell her what she asked of me. “Some secrets aren’t mine to share.”

  “Then there’s our problem. All of me is yours to share.” A sob wrenched from her and she shook her head. “At least, it was.”

  “Clara, please—” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for her then.

  “Don’t!” She pulled back. “Not tonight. I’ll get over it. I’ll learn to live with it. Tonight, I need to be alone with the truth.”

  “What truth?” I dared to ask, even though I didn’t want to know.

  “That I let myself be swept into the fairytale,” she murmured. “I fell under your spell. I let myself believe in happily ever after. I swallowed a pretty story because I fell in love.”

  “It isn’t a fairy tale. This is real.” I moved toward her, but she darted past me. “Clara, we’re real.”

  She paused at the door and turned sad eyes on me. “Maybe we were.”

  6

  Scotland

  The tree would never do. It had been delivered from the village earlier this week, and there were far too many scraggly patches that revealed its crooked brown limbs. No amount of ornaments or decorations could hide that fact. On the off chance that his grandmother decided to join them for the holidays this year, she would send it back immediately, but that wasn’t what concerned him. This Christmas had to be perfect. The family had eschewed tradition last year and stayed in London for the holidays. Elizabeth was still a newborn and there had been the chaos surrounding Belle and Smith—knocking off to Scotland hadn’t been a priority. That meant this was David’s first year celebrating with him at Balmoral, and since Edward hadn’t
given him a wedding yet, he could give him a proper Christmas morning.

  That was easier said than done, given how hard David was pushing back against his preparations.

  Strong arms wrapped around his waist as he studied the tree, and he felt David’s chin drop to his shoulder. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s ugly. What will Belle and Clara say?” He knew David had a soft spot for his best friends, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage.

  “They’ll be too busy worshiping their husbands to notice,” he promised.

  David had a point, but Edward didn’t miss the edge to his words. Both Clara and Belle had husbands to command their attention; David did not. Maybe he was less obsessed with the perfect Christmas as he was with distracting him from that fact. He hadn’t been able to explain to David why he’d continued to push back their wedding date. Just as David didn’t know nearly enough about the events that transpired a year ago. Edward had kept the secret out of respect for his friends, but also under the command of his brother.

  “I thought we came earlier to be alone,” David said pointedly.

  “We are alone,” he snapped, and David pulled away.

  “Alone together, not separately. I can’t help but think you’ve dragged the whole of England’s problems with us.”

  Maybe he had. Edward had brought the Royal Family’s problems at least.

  “You’ve been distracted.” David stepped closer, frustration blazing in his eyes. “I’ve been understanding, but you can’t keep avoiding your own life.”

  “I know that you—”

  “This isn’t about me,” David interrupted. “I’m not making threats or ultimatums. Although Christ knows that I should be. I’m simply pointing out that you’re only hurting yourself.”

  They both knew that wasn’t true. “And you.”

  “All things considered, you’ve come out of the closet, declared your love for me, and upset hundreds of years of tradition just by proposing to me. I shouldn’t expect any more miracles in such a short time frame.”