The Prince's Captive Virgin

by Maisey Yates

  He flexed his hips forward an inch more, and she gasped, her eyes flying open wide. But he wasn’t looking at her. His unfocused gaze was somewhere behind her, his jaw held tight, the chords in his neck standing, demonstrating how hard-won his control was.

  Something about that made her heart clench tight, made the pain begin to recede. Watching him, watching how profoundly it affected him, how deeply he felt it. She focused on that, she focused on him, and, as he slid in deeper, she felt herself expand to accommodate him, felt it grow easier to take him, felt her desire to take him build.

  He growled, thrusting inside her to the hilt, tightening his hold on her thigh and drawing her up hard against him. It took her breath away, overwhelmed her. For a moment, she didn’t think she could possibly endure it. Didn’t think she could possibly withstand it.

  When he began to move, it was intense, it was rough and it was raw. She could see that this was different from everything else that had occurred before. That had all been about giving to her, giving her pleasure. In this moment, he was claiming his own. Was expending the years of frustration, loneliness, pain in her body. Was using her to find his own release. And somehow, that gave her strength.

  She wanted to be this for him. Wanted to be all that he needed, because nobody else could be, and nobody else would be. Because he had asked no one else. Because he said he wanted no one else.

  She clung to his shoulders, met his each and every thrust, and as she did, as she gave herself over to this, over to him, all the discomfort faded. Or maybe it didn’t fade; perhaps it simply blended into the growing pleasure that bloomed in her midsection and spread outward, taking root deep inside her and made it so she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

  There was nothing but him. But the rough feel of his whiskers against her cheek, then the slick slide of his tongue against hers. The scent of his body, masculine and spicy, his hardness over her, inside her. Everything was Adam.

  She had never felt like his captive, not fully. She had never acted like a prisoner, had never given him the proper deference, as he had been the first to point out. But now...she felt fully taken captive. Utterly and completely.

  He was rough; he was demanding; he was everything. She did her best to meet it, did her best to soften when he needed her to soften, to return force when he required it. When his teeth scraped along the edge of her lip, she returned the favor with a bite of her own and was rewarded with a low, feral growl.

  Pleasure built inside her, blending in with the luxurious feel of the bedspread beneath her, and the hot weight of Adam above her.

  She felt it when his control began to fray, and she lifted her hands, gripping his face, tracing that thick scar tissue that created a map of his pain across his skin. And when he shuddered, gave himself up to his own release, something deep and dark began to pulse inside her.

  Her release hit when his did, and there was something different about this one too. It wrapped around them both, held them both in thrall; they shook together, clung to each other as the storm took them both over.

  He moved his hands to her face, held on to her tightly and pressed his forehead against hers, then closed the distance between their lips and claimed her mouth in a kiss. One that mimicked everything that had just happened between them.

  And then he pulled her against the side of his body, cradling her against him, his breath hot on her cheek, his large hand splayed possessively over her stomach.

  She had thought they might talk. About her inexperience. About what had happened. About what came next.

  She realized they couldn’t talk about any of it, not without addressing the next. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here. In the moment. With nothing behind her and nothing in front of her. In this moment, in this night, where she could be as free as she wanted.

  Where she could hide with him. Glory in him.

  So she didn’t speak at all. Instead, she turned her face to his and kissed him, a hand pressed lightly to his shoulder.

  It was all he needed. He consumed her lips on a growl, and they both let themselves get caught up in passion again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE WANTED TO keep her prisoner forever. That was the thought running through Adam’s head the next morning, all the way back to the airport, on the flight that took them back to Olympios.

  Belle was intoxicating. Being with her was being able to touch the light again, if for just moments at a time. His beautiful, innocent captive who had never been with a man before he’d been with her.

  He had known after. In the middle of all of it there had been no thought, and he’d had no ability to process what the tension in her body, that slight resistance as he’d slid deep inside her, had meant.

  He supposed it should make him feel guilty. The fact that he—the man who’d taken her prisoner, who had left her with so few choices—should be the first to have her.

  But he was a man capable of taking her prisoner, so guilt wouldn’t be coming to the party anytime soon. No, instead he felt replete with a kind of bone-deep satisfaction he couldn’t recall feeling before.

  But it would fade. Later today when he sent her back home to California on his jet, it would fade.

  He had to let her go. He had no other choice.

  He had done it. He had gone out in public, and what the world would think of it remained to be seen, but he also didn’t want it.

  He didn’t want Belle’s suffering. He didn’t want revenge. Not on her, not on her father. Whatever rage he felt over Ianthe’s death—over his son’s death—it was still real. But they couldn’t be brought back, no matter who he punished. If he took the photographer who had caused the accident prisoner, locked him away for the rest of his life, Ianthe would still be dead. His future, his heart, would still be gone.

  And in his quest to rectify something that could never truly be repaired, he would destroy that one beautiful, light thing that still remained in this world. Belle. He could not. And he would not.

  She had been subdued during the plane ride, and was growing even more so on the car ride back to the palace. She knew; she knew that this was coming to an end. The fact that she seemed upset about it only drove home the point that it was the right thing to do.

  The fact that she had begun to feel sorry for him, the fact that she felt some sort of connection with him, was probably the most despicable part of all of it. If she would think of him ever after this, if she would miss him, want him, when he could never be a man worthy of those things...then he had truly created an environment wherein he could never fully release her.

  Part of him reveled in that, because he was only a man. Enjoyed the idea that somewhere, someone would think of him. Would miss him. Would want him.

  But he didn’t want it to be her. He wanted her to go back to her boyfriend. To enjoy that bright California sunshine and all the security and freedom she had spoken of when she talked of her home.

  He didn’t want her here. In the darkness with him.

  She had told him she wanted to learn how to be a beast, wanted to learn how to embrace her passion. And if he had managed to help her with that, if she could only carry that back with her, if it made her happier, if it made her life better, then that was a good thing.

  The alternative was something he didn’t want to consider. That he had infected her with his darkness, and that over the course of the next few years it would continue to spread inside her until she matched him. If his darkness was so strong that it had blotted out her light, he didn’t suppose he could ever forgive himself.

  Have you ever forgiven yourself for anything? For your wife? For your son? What does this add? Nothing.

  He shrugged that off, but as they approached the gates of the palace he saw something that sent a shock of adrenaline down his spine. Immediately, he was on alert, ready to fight, ready to defend the woman at his side. Because there were people surrounding the palace, people with cameras, microphones, video equipment. There were vans; there was a damn
ed helicopter circling overhead. They had come back to a circus.

  “What is this?” he asked no one in particular, because he knew that Belle didn’t have the answer either.

  The limousine slowed, his driver clearly hesitant to go on. Adam pushed the button that lowered the divider. “Can you drive through them?” he asked.

  “I’m sure that if I continue to drive, they’ll move eventually,” the driver said.

  “Test that,” Adam returned, his voice hard.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You should know well,” Adam said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up the web browser. “It’s the paparazzi.”

  “I didn’t talk to anybody,” she said, her voice shaking. “I didn’t.”

  “I know that,” he said. “You were with me the entire night, remember? And not only that, but last night we made our public debut. So this is hardly a complete shock. Though, I have to confess I didn’t think this would be the result.” There had to be something else. Something more. Yes, there were a great many headlines talking about his first appearance in the public eye since his accident had occurred, but that wasn’t enough to cause this kind of frenzy. Not when there were already photographs. There was nothing new to be gained...unless...

  He pulled up a headline for an American newspaper, and that was when he saw it. “What is your boyfriend’s name?”

  “Tony,” she said. “Tony Layton.”

  “Yes, he is not happy. And that is why these people are here.”

  “What?”

  He handed her his phone; there was no point keeping it from her. If she wanted to dial her father or her boyfriend, or the National Guard, she was welcome to do so. He’d been invaded already, and she was already set to go. So what did it matter?

  Her mouth fell open, her eyes widening with shock as she looked down at the screen. “He’s claiming that you’ve kidnapped me. That I’m brainwashed. Stockholm syndrome.” She put the phone down, meeting his gaze. Then she reached out, pressing the button that divided them from the driver. “Stop the car,” she commanded.

  The driver did so, mostly out of shock, Adam imagined. He was about to open his mouth to contradict Belle, but the car had stopped and she was already getting out the passenger-side door.

  “Hey! Do you want to listen to a third party, or do you want to hear the story from me? I am not Prince Adam Katsaros’s prisoner. I am his fiancée. I have chosen to be here with him. I’m in love with him, and we are going to get married.”

  * * *

  Belle was completely numb with shock, unable to believe the words that had just come out of her mouth. She had claimed to be Adam’s fiancée. Had claimed they were getting married. When she had seen Tony’s words in bold in the news article she had lost her mind completely. This was passion, she supposed. That total insanity she had feared for most of her life. Had feared would overtake her completely. And it had.

  She couldn’t regret it, though. As she stood there, facing down the horde of paparazzi, that was the thing that surprised her the most. That she wasn’t filled with remorse or regret. That she wasn’t beset by fear. She had always imagined that she would be horrified if she were ever to give in to such impulses. That she would hate all the changes in herself. That she would feel like she had failed in some way.

  But, that wasn’t the case. She felt...everything felt clear. Quiet. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Which could indicate that she was in shock rather than having a moment of clarity, but she liked the clarity idea better.

  Somehow, over the course of the past weeks, she had been made into the person she was always supposed to become. In Adam’s arms, in Adam’s bed she had found a part of herself that she had kept suppressed for a long time. Had found a part of herself she hadn’t known she needed to find.

  Now that she had...she felt more full, more whole than she ever had.

  She felt brave. She realized that was the biggest difference. Yes, it had taken a great amount of bravery to come here and free her father, and that had been something of an out-of-body experience. Something beyond her typical capacity for strength.

  It had felt foreign then. Strange.

  This felt like part of herself. Like it was the most instinctual, easy thing in all the world to defend Adam, to defend the man she had fallen in love with.

  Even that realization didn’t scare her. Even if it should. It felt as calm and clear as everything else. Of course she loved him. That was why this was simple. That was why there was no other option.

  She was not going to allow a torch-carrying mob to accuse him of being a monster. Was not going to allow reporters, the media, to invade the sanctuary that he had ensconced himself in for so long. Not when they were the ones who had caused all his pain.

  She wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t.

  The roar that came from the reporters when she made her revelation was almost deafening, cutting through that sense of calm she had felt only a moment before. But, it didn’t penetrate. Not deeply. She was still sure of her course.

  “Do you want to listen? Or do you want to make wild guesses about what the truth might be? I can tell you everything,” she said. And even though she was pretty sure they hadn’t been able to hear the exact words she had spoken, they did quiet down.

  “I was not kidnapped. I have not been tricked, and I have not been manipulated. Prince Adam Katsaros is not forcing my hand in any way. In fact, he was going to allow me to return home to avoid damaging my reputation. But I refused. I am refusing,” she reiterated. She looked back at the car, saw Adam sitting inside, staring out at her, his expression fierce.

  “How dare you go after a man who has already been through so much,” she said, her voice trembling. “How dare you believe these lies?”

  “Yes,” one of the reporters in the back of the crowd spoke loudly. “But you can’t blame the public for being suspicious. Beauty might love the beast in a fairy tale, but not in real life.”

  Rage spiked through her. “You will find that there are a great many women who prefer a beast,” she said, her words crisp. “Prince Charming might be a good dancer, but a beast has other qualities to recommend him.”

  She knew that was going to land her a very salacious write-up. But she didn’t care. It was true. He was the one she wanted, him and no one else.

  Then Adam got out of the car, slowly. He was so large, his presence so vital, so intimidating, that she felt the reporters shrink back.

  “I think what my fiancée is trying to say,” he said, his deep, rich voice rolling over her skin, sending little tremors through her body, “is that we have a particular connection. If it doesn’t make for a clever headline for you, I can’t say that I’m particularly sorry. But it is time for me to move on, time for my country to move on, from the tragedy that was caused at the hands of this kind of overzealous media. Your responsibility is to report on world events, events that would inform or protect the public. Last I checked, who might be sharing my bed is not one of those events. You may show yourselves off the palace grounds and out of my country, or you will find yourself thrown in prison. And if you think I’m exaggerating, there is a photographer I can put you in contact with who will let you know that I never bluff.” He looked across the car, his eyes meeting hers. “Come, agape—we should go home now.”

  That was easy enough that Belle knew he was not going to be quite so biddable when they were alone. But still, she found herself obeying his command. Following his lead and getting back into the car.

  “Drive,” he commanded, and the car began to move again.

  “I couldn’t let that headline stand,” she said, justifying herself before he even said a word.

  “Neither could I,” he responded. “Though, I’m not certain your solution would have been mine.”

  “You can always retract it later. Engagements break up all the time.”

  He turned to face her, his dark eyes blazing. “Is that what you were hoping for?”
>
  She shook her head. “No. Actually, I wasn’t. When I said those words it was with the full intention of marrying you. Becoming your wife in every sense of the word. After what we shared together last night... I was never going to go back to Tony. And, I’m not sure what the hell he was thinking making an announcement like this. Yes, I did need to call him and break up with him. But, since you wouldn’t give me a phone, that’s hardly my fault.”

  Something shiny and black hit her lap. And she realized that Adam had flung his phone to her. She shot him a bland stare. “Thank you. But, this might have been helpful last night.”

  She picked it up, and with shaking fingers dialed Tony’s number. He answered on the second ring. “If you have any more questions for me, I will be doing a press conference this evening,” he said, his voice much harder and more authoritative than she was accustomed to hearing.

  “Tony,” she said, “it’s me.”

  “Belle?” He sounded...not exactly relieved. “Why didn’t you call me before?”

  Adam was glaring at the phone, a murderous glint in his eye. She put the phone away from her ear and turned the speaker on so that Adam could listen in, since she had a feeling he would leap across the car otherwise.

  “I didn’t have a phone before,” she said. “But I do now. I’m nobody’s prisoner. Please stop telling the press that Adam is a criminal of some kind. He’s not. He’s kind, and he’s been through so much.”

  “So, you’re saying that you left me of your own free will, and didn’t tell myself or your father where you were, and that you presumably cheated on me during that time? After claiming that you were waiting for some kind of magic connection.” He made a scoffing sound. “I didn’t touch you the entire eight months we dated, and now you’re sharing a bed with this monster?”

  “He’s not a monster, Tony,” she insisted. “And I’m sorry. But the only crime committed was mine. I wasn’t faithful to you, but I also never intended to come back home to you. Before I ever touched Adam I realized that things needed to be over between us. And the order that I did things in could have been changed. But the result is the same nonetheless. I’m marrying Adam.”