Crown of Thornes : a modern day royal romance

by Delaney Foster

I cleared my throat. “That won’t be necessary.”

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  Her whole attitude was so nonchalant, as though we hadn’t both shown up here to fuck the enemy. One minute her eyes shot daggers and her words spit venom. The next, her body practically begged me to devour her, like I was fire and she was ice. One look from me, and she melted. I had this overwhelming compulsion to bend her over and fuck her senseless, to use her body as payment for her father’s sins, to strike a match and watch her burn.

  Seven

  Something wasn’t right. My heart thrummed so hard you could practically see it through my dress while Sutton was completely unreadable. The way he mastered his emotions was scary. He wanted this. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

  Right?

  Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was all wrong.

  I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  The smart thing to do would have been to walk away. Unfortunately, I stopped being smart the minute I saw him in the kitchen doorway. I was here because my body wanted me here. It had nothing to do with my brain.

  “I know what you said to Keaton last night.” I didn’t know. I was bluffing.

  His eyes narrowed, probing mine for a chance to expose the lie. The way he looked at me should have brought fear coursing through my veins, but I was an idiot with a big mouth and a death wish.

  “I know you watched us… watched me,” I continued, my ladyballs growing bigger by the second. His grip on my wrist loosened as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. I took another step forward, closing the gap between us. “Did you like what you saw?” I wished I were as confident as I sounded.

  There’s still time to stop this if you just walk away.

  That was easier said than done. I wanted to walk away. I knew I needed to. But something held me here. I convinced myself it was my irrational need to get this over with so that I could get on with my life. One night. No strings attached. It was no different from what I did with Keaton.

  You don’t hate Keaton.

  I reached down to palm the erection straining against the gray sweatpants he wore, watching my window of opportunity slam shut in my face. The outline of the thick shaft and tapered head made it obvious he’d ditched his underwear. He looked every bit the sinful, sexy, and forbidden fruit I’d been warned my whole life to stay away from. I stroked his length through the fabric. He was thicker and longer than I imagined he would be, bigger than Keaton, harder if that were even possible. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back and letting out a heavy breath. I would have almost enjoyed it if he were any other person, if he had any other last name. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I were just a girl and he were just a guy.

  Touching him like this, hearing his ragged breath while he pulsed against my hand, almost made it easy to get lost in the fantasy. But Sutton wasn’t just a guy. He was a prince, and I was a pawn.

  I swallowed back the guilt and shame that brewed within me as I abandoned the last shred of dignity I had left. “I think you did. I think you liked it a lot.”

  In an instant his eyes snapped open, and his hand gripped my wrist so hard that I thought it might snap the bone. “Stop,” he gritted through clenched teeth. He jolted back as if my touch scalded him. “Change of plans.” He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t happening.”

  My stomach twisted at his rejection, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t the tiniest bit relieved. I raised my hands up in surrender and held my head high like he hadn’t completely thrown me for a loop. “Okay.”

  I wasn’t about to beg him to let me make a fool of myself. Humiliation heated my cheeks, chasing away the lust.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose then looked up at me and growled. Growled. Like I offended him. “Goddammit, you’re infuriating.”

  I pointed at my chest. “Me? I’m infuriating?”

  “You’re fucking right, you are.”

  I sat down on the stairs and met his eyes. “You ask for a chance then run when I offer it. I thought you wanted this. And it’s pretty obvious you do,” I said, eyeing his erection. “So, how, exactly am I infuriating? Please, Your Royal Highness, enlighten me.” I spit his title as if it burned my tongue.

  “Why the hell am I even here?”

  I lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Because you heard I suck a good di—?”

  He cut me off, nostrils flaring as his eyes grew dark. “Jesus. Is this all just one big joke to you?”

  “No. It isn’t a joke. It’s my life. And I really wish you would just make up your mind what you want from me so I can do it, and you can leave me the hell alone.”

  “What I want from you? You invited me here. Remember? Am I some sort of consolation prize for your little game? Let’s fuck the prince to piss off the king?”

  Him? He was the consolation prize? Seriously? He came into the kitchen. He licked my finger. He asked for a night, and I was giving it to him. What the actual fark. Was he mental?

  He laughed when I didn’t answer, and the fury behind it frightened me. “God, you’re just like your father.”

  My father has nothing to do with this.

  I stood up. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

  “What do you think?” he asked, his voice wickedly calm.

  I stepped off the staircase, leaving us toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye. Well, eye-to-chest… He wanted a fight? Bring it. “I think that’s rich coming from someone who doesn’t even know me… or my father.”

  It was a guess—hopeful, maybe. Wrong, probably. He acted like he had no idea who I was or what his family had done. Now, I was sure that’s exactly what it was—an act.

  Sutton stood tall, driven by an unseen force hellbent on destroying me if I let it. “That’s where you’re wrong, Katarina. I know exactly who the fuck you are. And Matteo Bellizzi might have been a good father, but he was a piece of shit for a man.”

  Everything stilled. The earth came to a screeching halt. My heart stopped, and I gasped for air. He used my full name. Finally, the truth came out. I should’ve known it wasn’t as simple as boy meets girl, boy wants girl, boy chases girl. Nothing with the Thorne family was ever simple. At least now I didn’t have to be disappointed that the prince hadn’t lived up to his name.

  “Take it back,” I said.

  He stood silent and sinister, his sharp gaze threatening to cut me open then watch me bleed.

  The room started spinning. My ears rang loud, and my breath felt tight in my lungs. “Take. It. Back,” I repeated, louder this time.

  “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t know what kind of man he was? That you had no idea what he did? Was he really so skilled at lying that he even had you fooled?”

  “Get out!” I shouted, shoving his chest with my palms. I might as well have shoved a brick wall because he didn’t budge.

  “You think the reason you have nothing is because of my father? Wake up, sweetheart. You’d have nothing without him.” He emphasized my as if all this time I’d been blaming the wrong father.

  Sutton Thorne was a liar.

  “I said get the fuck out!”

  I no longer cared about his title or that he could throw me on the streets or toss me in jail for yelling at him this way. I wanted as far away from him as possible.

  As if my silent prayer had been answered, Keaton appeared in the doorway. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Get him out of here,” I spit out.

  “Oh, look who it is,” Sutton said, cocking his head. “Loverboy came to save the day.” There was no emotion in his voice—no fire, no anger, just… nothing. But the possessive look in his eyes was all-consuming.

  “The staff heard yelling, so they called me to come check it out.”

  “How convenient,” Sutton deadpanned.

  “Did he hurt you? Did he lay a finger on you? Did he fucking touch you?” Keaton asked.

  A newly revived thrill glinted in Sutton’s eyes as he threw his back and laughed. “This is brilliant.�
� He looked at Keaton now. “Aren’t you going to ask if she touched me too?” he asked as he adjusted himself through his pants. His erection was still very evident, but he didn’t seem to care.

  Bile rose in my throat at the realization that I had actually touched him there.

  “I think this conversation is over,” Keaton said, his jaw clenched.

  “Oh, this is far from over.” Sutton’s glare softened when he turned to me and shook his head. “You know, for someone who spends so much time in this library, maybe you should read shit that actually matters.” He nodded toward the second-floor balcony. “You could start with the royal records for the last five years.”

  He walked out of the room, and Keaton followed.

  “Keaton!” I yelled down the hall. Sutton went one way. Keaton went the other. Neither one of them bothered looking back. I clutched the edges of my dress between my fingers. “Keaton,” I shouted again before sinking to my knees and giving in to the tears that had been fighting to flow. Keaton never looked back.

  Sutton did.

  Eight

  I never said I wasn’t fucked up. I was haunted by demons. Not the kind that woke you in the middle of the night and stole your screams. The kind that stole your soul, wrapping it in darkness and sucking you in until you were gone, and only emptiness remained. I was almost there. I was damn near empty.

  Was Katie’s father a piece of shit? Absolutely. Did I want some makeshift Prince Charming galloping in on his size fourteen boots to save her like he was the hero and I was the villain? Fuck no. A member of my father’s guard was not about to storm in and treat me like a common criminal, as though I’d been out of line. I did nothing wrong. I spoke the truth, a truth she needed to know so she could stop hating the world and playing the victim. Everything in my gut told me not to trust Katie, but seeing her so broken and knowing it was because of me twisted me up inside. It was like her heart had been yanked out and shattered across the marble floor, and I almost ripped open my chest and handed her mine just to stop the pain.

  But that would never happen because handing your heart to the enemy was suicide. And there was no mistaking that Katie was my enemy. Now that I knew the truth, now that I’d said my piece, maybe my mind could stop obsessing over having her. I just wished my body would get the memo.

  I laid in bed staring at the galaxy of stars painted on my ceiling. Cool, smooth sheets kissed my hot, naked skin, and the moonlight glittered and danced from wall to wall. My cock twitched at the memory of her tiny hand stroking my length. It took every bit of willpower I possessed not to press into her hand and let her rub away the ache that she gave me. Then bend her over the couch and make her come until she cried.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I liked the way she talked to me. Even when she was angry.

  Especially when she was angry.

  Fuck.

  Hearing that word spill from her carefully guarded lips and seeing the fire in her eyes made me even harder. I liked flirty Katie. I liked smart mouth Katie. I liked bold Katie. And I really fucking liked angry Katie. Mostly because I knew that she wanted me every bit as much as she hated me. The very thought of marking her, of bruising her, of taming her, turned me on so much I could hardly see straight.

  I slipped my hand beneath the sheets and wrapped my fist around my cock. I wanted all of her moans and her tiny whimpers. I wanted all of her tears, and I wanted her screams. I wanted to memorize the curve of her hips and how she tasted when she came. I wanted to take everything she had to give and leave nothing for anyone else. I wanted to ruin her.

  My grip tightened, tugging, pulling, harder, faster, to the point of almost punishing myself for wanting something I knew could never be mine. I closed my eyes and saw her face, tear-stained and hopeless. Then I heard her voice begging me to stay then forcing me to leave. My heart hammered in my chest, and tiny beads of sweat covered my forehead. I stroked and tugged and punished until I came.

  Everything about it was wrong, yet it still wasn’t enough. I wanted her, and I wanted nothing to do with her. And as I climbed out of bed with a sticky-coated stomach and semen-covered hand, I knew that there was only one way for this to end—with us both ripped open and raw right down to our souls.

  After all, lust and hate were nothing more than roommates… with paper-thin walls.

  My father had always taught me that if a burglar caught me in an alley and asked for my wallet that no matter what, I was to give him my wallet. Don’t be a hero, Katie. Do whatever you need to save yourself. That’s what I did with Sutton. I handed him my wallet, and he took my soul. He took it all. He disrespected my father. He stole my pride and stripped it bare. He made me feel cheap, and he took away the one thing that had been a constant in my life since the day I got here. He took Keaton.

  The castle held me prisoner. I didn’t have guests. I had no say over what curtains I hung in my room or what I ate for dinner. I never saw my mother. I found my escape in books, baking, and Keaton, and I still managed to walk around with my head held high. I lost my father, my home, and most of my freedom, but I still had my dignity. Until now. Now, I wasn’t sure I could even look anyone in the eye.

  In six months, this would all be over. At one time in my life, six months would’ve passed by in the blink of an eye. Now, I could hear the clock ticking away the seconds. Everything moved in slow motion. The wide, open halls of the castle stretched on for miles until I finally found the door leading to the South Garden. The once welcoming scent of fresh flowers and sound of the steady flow of the fountain now seemed like an infinite maze of beauty I didn’t deserve. It was only when I opened the door to my villa then slammed it behind me that I could finally breathe.

  Sutton called my father a liar. He called my life a lie. Then he humiliated me in front of the one person who had always treated me as an equal. He had won. I thought I could walk in there, give him what he wanted and send him on his way. I was wrong. Sutton Thorne didn’t want me. He wanted to destroy me, and I let him.

  I never should’ve given him my wallet.

  For the first time since the day I arrived at the castle, I climbed into bed and sobbed until my throat burned… until my lungs felt heavy in my chest… until my head throbbed and my eyes stung… until I’d given all I could give and my body gave up. Until tears of sadness became tears of release. Losing everything once was bad enough. Losing it all twice was almost enough to kill me. I cried myself to sleep then woke up hoping it was all a bad dream.

  The salty, sea air breezed through the white, sheer curtains covering my open window. The best thing—other than the library—about Thornebridge Castle was falling asleep to the sound of the waves. Morning sunlight flooded the room, reminding me that today was a brand-new day, that the pain didn’t kill me, that once again, I survived. I was a survivor.

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. After meeting Sutton in the garden, my nerves were too unsettled for food. I gave myself another half-second to wallow in self-pity before I threw the covers back and rolled out of bed. I had a million questions and no answers, but I was more determined than ever. I’d given the world—and the Crown—all I was going to give. Last night, I purged my pain through my tears, and today I was taking my life back.

  The kitchen in my villa was small and hardly stocked with groceries—a minor setback for someone who loved to cook. I never put much thought into it because I liked being in the castle kitchen. Being around Madeline and the rest of the staff made it feel more like a home and less like an institution. I spent so much time alone that it felt like I was part of something bigger when I was whisking and stirring surrounded by chatter and laughter. I loved the atmosphere almost as much as I loved the baking.

  Would I give all that up now? Would I shrink and hide?

  I opened one of the cabinets to find a coffee canister, a jar of peanut butter, and a bag of flour. I was creative, but that was a stretch even for me. After opening two more cabinets and finding only a
rack of herbs and spices and a set of dishes that had never been used, I gave up, got dressed, and headed to the castle kitchen. No more shrinking. No more hiding. No more giving up.

  Madeline hummed to herself while she peeled potatoes then tossed them into an extra-large bowl. She glanced at me beneath thick lashes but kept peeling when I walked into the kitchen. “Someone looks extra cheerful this morning,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

  I grabbed an apple from a nearby basket of fruit and ran it under the faucet. She tossed another potato in the bowl. “Does that sparkle have anything to do with a prince who came in here looking for you yesterday?”

  I nearly choked on the bite I just took. “The prince was looking for me?” I thought him showing up in the garden was some twisted inside joke between God and fate. It turned out that I had Madeline to thank.

  She brought the bowl full of potatoes to the sink to be rinsed. “Yes. And it looks to me like he found you.”

  “My mood has nothing to do with Prince Sutton.”

  It had everything to do with him, only not for the reason she thought. Even the strongest metals had to break in order for the light to shine through. Last night I was broken. Today I was putting myself back together.

  An older woman—the same one from the night of the gala—brushed past me. She placed a handful of carrots on the kitchen island. Madeline’s next project after the potatoes, I assumed. Whatever they were cooking made my stomach rumble again. It was warmth and comfort and Sundays after church all wrapped up in one delicious scent.

  “Aw Katie, he’s not that bad.” The woman’s kind brown eyes danced with her smile. I felt an instant pang of guilt for not ever asking her name when she obviously knew mine. Although I had a feeling the castle didn’t hold many secrets this woman didn’t already know. “A little rough around the edges maybe. But he has a good heart,” she continued.

  Sutton Thorne’s edges weren’t rough. They were sharp and piercing, and if I stood too close they would cut me to the bone. I still wasn’t convinced he even had a heart.