by B. B. Hamel
“Your mother believes that Blaz Perko will talk to me. She believes he’ll open up to me, if I give him the impression that I want to turn against you.”
I stare at her, totally uncomprehending. I can’t believe my mother would actually go behind my back with this. Aleks had mentioned using Mila as bait already, but I assumed that was some off-the-cuff suggestion. But if it’s coming from my mother then that means it has some serious weight behind it.
My mother doesn’t suggest plans that don’t have a strong shot at working, especially when they’d endanger someone I care about. Still, she should never, ever ask someone like Mila to put themselves at greater risk. Mila has given enough already. It’s horrible to ask her to do more.
“You can’t do this,” I say to her.
“Bran, I have to. I need to do this.”
“Do you know who my mother is?” I ask her, more harshly than I intended. “She’s Bellestan’s spymaster. She plays games within games. You can’t do this.”
Mila frowns and shakes her head. “I don’t care who she is. Would she ask me to do something dangerous?”
“Yes,” I say, and I know that it’s true. My mother would do anything for Bellestan.
“Would she ask me to do something dangerous that I can’t possibly do?”
I hesitate a second and sigh. “No,” I say.
“Then I have to do it.”
“Why?” I ask her. “I don’t understand. Before, this was just some business deal for you.”
“Things changed,” she says softly. “I love this place now. I want to help you. I’ve come this far.”
“You don’t owe me this. You don’t owe any of these people anything.”
“Maybe,” she says softly. “But I’m also angry. I’m angry that assholes like Blaz Perko can trick people. And I guess I want a little revenge.”
I stare at her and feel something inside of me breaking. I can’t let her do this, but it sounds like I don’t have much choice.
I reach over and take her hand. I pull her onto the bed and move over. She curls up next to me, head resting on my chest.
I pull her close and hold her like that, not saying anything. I don’t know what I can possibly say to change her mind. I’ve seen that look on her face before, though not many times. It’s the look of someone who’s so sure that what they’re doing is right. You can’t change the mind of someone with that look, although I know I’m going to keep trying. I won’t just let her walk off and do something dangerous, not if I can help it.
I hold her close against me and feel her breathing. I brush the hair from her face and lean down to kiss her. She tips her chin up and our lips touch, sending shivers down my spine.
The kiss lasts longer than I expected and I can feel something inside of me rising. She adjusts herself, not breaking the kiss and wraps her legs around my hips, straddling me.
I pull her close, but not too tightly, since I know her ribs are broken. I can feel her breasts against my chest through the thin hospital gown, and I know she can feel my hard cock getting even harder. She kisses me deeply and passionately. It’s the kiss of someone that survived death and is willing go up against it again. I kiss her back, knowing full well that I can’t stop her, and wanting this moment more than anything else.
She leans back, still straddling me, and pulls her gown off in one easy swoop. She tosses it aside and I smirk at her. “I guess those are good for something,” I say.
She laughs and leans forward again. I tease her breasts and I kiss her. I slide my hands down and cup her perfect round ass before moving one hand down between her legs.
She’s dripping wet already. I tease her clit as my other hand cups her ass. I kiss her full and deep. My heart is hammering and I know we could get caught at any moment, but I don’t care. I need this so badly it almost fucking hurts.
She reaches back with one hand and strokes my cock as I slide two fingers inside of her, making her gasp. I fuck her tight little pussy with my fingers, sliding them in and out of her, as she strokes my cock the best she can.
After a moment, she shrugs back and pushes my gown up around my hips. She wiggles her ass and grab my cock as she presses it against her tight little pussy.
We lock eyes as she slowly slides down. I groan softly as I push inside of her, filling her tight, warm little pussy. I grab her ass and push her all the way down, making her take my full cock. I want her to feel every fucking inch of me inside of her tight little pussy.
She moans and starts to move her hips. I don’t push her, I just let her do what she can. I know she’s still injured, and my arm fucking hurts, but I’m not stopping. I grab her hair and kiss her hard as she works her hips, sliding along my cock.
“I’ve been needing this,” I whisper in her ear. “I need your little pussy, my Princess, so fucking badly. I need to feel your skin. I dream about it.”
“I needed it too,” she groans, working her hips faster, riding my cock. “I need to feel you come inside of me. Can you do that? Can you come inside of me?”
“Yes,” I grunt. “I’ll fill you up, Princess. You just keep riding that cock.”
She works her hips as I tease her breasts. Her face is a mask of pure pleasure and I know she’s been desperate for this too. She writhes and gyrates her hips, working my cock, and I slide myself back to pump into her. I fuck her as she rides me, and we get into a perfect fucking rhythm, my big cock tearing into her tight little pussy, her thick hips working in tight perfect circles.
I grab her hair again, pulling her close to me. I kiss her lips deeply, knowing that I’m getting close. She rides me faster, jerking and working her hips. Her pussy feels so fucking good, warm and tight, and I know I’m going to burst deep in her.
“Oh fuck, Bran,” she moans. “I’m so close. Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” I grunt. “I can feel it. I want you to come for me.”
“I need to come so bad.” She bites her lower lip as I slam into her. “I fucking need it.”
I grab her hips and thrust into her pussy as she continues to move along with me, riding my big dick. I can see the pleasure cresting in her face, and I can feel it building in my cock.
She puts her hands on my chest and slams herself down along my cock. She tips her head forward as she starts to come, her whole body tensing and shaking as the orgasm rips through her. I keep fucking her, not letting up, and I know I’m close. Seeing her fucking come like this drives me inside.
I explode inside of her pussy. I shove her down my cock as I come, wanting to fill her up as deeply as I can. She keeps moving her hips, sliding around and riding me. Slowly, we finish coming together.
She climbs off me, and I notice her wince. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I am now,” she says, curling up against me again. I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me, tight but not too tight.
I kiss her hair and breathe her smell. I need her like this so badly, she probably doesn’t even realize it. “I can’t let you do it,” I whisper to her.
“I know.” She kisses me softly. “But that’s why I have to.”
We lapse into silence again. I hate that she’s going forward with this. But I know that no matter what, I’ll keep her safe. Nobody will ever touch her again.
25
Mila
Two weeks after the blast, I’m wearing a beautiful, flowing dress, and Bran is scowling at me over a glass of whisky.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say to him, smiling.
“Like what?” He grumbles and sips his drink.
“Like you’re my dad and you don’t approve of my date.”
He rolls his eyes. “More like your fiancé and I don’t approve of your dangerous mission.”
“Fake fiancé,” I remind him with a smile. “And we’ve gone over this.”
He grunts again and looks away. I go back to fussing with myself in the mirror.
The first few days after I asked him about the plan back in the hospital,
he refused to even talk about it. I told Aleks that I was going to help them out and we instantly started to go over the details, but Bran wouldn’t hear any of it. He was in denial or something.
After we got back to the castle about three days ago, denial turned into anger. He tried to forbid me from going through with this, which just made me laugh. Even his mother was against him, and slowly we broke down his defenses until he turned to a sort of silent brooding.
It’s obvious that he doesn’t want me to do this, but I think he’s accepted it. At least he’s accepted his role in all this, which is very minimal. There’s a dinner tonight for the ministers and other business leaders, much like the one early on in my visit to Bellestan. I’m to attend as Bran’s date, of course, but from there the night is going to be all mine. Bran is going to feign some illness and leave as early as he feels is appropriate, and from there I’m supposed to approach Perko myself.
He hates it. He wants to be in the room with me the whole time, but his mother pointed out again and again that can never work. She’ll have security personnel in the room, not the normal palace guards, but her own special agents that can be nearby to protect me. That seemed to make him feel a little bit better, but he still wasn’t happy about it.
I check the time and look at myself one last time. I’m nervous, really nervous, but I have to hide it. This is supposed to be just a normal dinner for me, after all.
“Come on,” I say to him, walking across the room. He stands up as I approach. “Escort me, you big jerk.”
He smiles a little. “I’m a jerk because I don’t want you in danger?”
“Exactly.” I kiss him softly on the lips and linger there for a second. “Your mother is going to keep me safe, don’t worry,” I say.
“You don’t have to do this. It’s not to late to back out.”
“I don’t want to back out. I want to help.” I kiss him one last time. He takes my hand and sighs.
“Okay then. Let’s get this over with.”
We head out of the room hand in hand. The palace guard falls into step behind us, and we make our way to the enormous ballroom at the center of the caves.
The plan is very, very simple. As soon as we arrive, Bran starts eating. He takes some finger foods offered to him by the wait staff. Meanwhile, a waiter approaches me and gives me the sign: a wink with his left eye. I smile at him and take a glass of “champagne” from his tray, though it’s nonalcoholic. I memorize his face, because he’s the one I’ll be taking drinks from for the rest of the night.
I’m supposed to get drunk, and Bran is supposed to get sick.
The night begins easily enough. I feel so nervous that I do end up drinking one real drink between fake ones. After twenty minutes of being there, I’ve had three glasses, two of which were fake. I feel like I’m a little drunker than I should be, probably just because it’s the placebo effect.
Queen Ana was very serious about this part of the plan. I’m to drink five glasses of champagne, but I absolutely cannot be drunk. I’m to appear drunk, though. She’s positive that a man like Perko will be watching me every move, and he’ll take note of how many drinks I’ve had. He’ll think I’m an easy target, or at least ripe for honesty.
The Queen thinks he’ll try to recruit me if I make it obvious that I might be ready. If this happens, I have a recording device strapped to my lower back. It’s a tiny little thing, but the microphone is apparently very powerful. I just have to touch a part of my dress near my waist to start the device and another part of my dress to stop it.
Bran and I chat with foreign ambassadors while I skim the room. I spot Perko standing with a group of older men in a far corner, smoking cigars and laughing. I feel a sudden and sharp stab of hatred and fear course through me, and I have to look away from him.
Bran glances at me, a little concerned, and steps closer. He takes my hand in his and extricates us from the conversation. I could actually follow it very well, despite the fact that it was entirely in Bellestanian. Ever since the concussion, I’ve been able to understand the language very well, and even speak it better, though apparently my accent is still terrible.
“Bran,” I say softly to him as we move toward the buffet table. “It’s time for you to make your exit.”
He sighs. “I can stay. You know I can.”
“No, you can’t. You’re going to ruin this. Please, Bran.”
The mayor of a local municipality approaches, smiling and extending his hand. Bran takes it and shakes, and I’m afraid he’ll never leave. If he stays, Perko won’t feel comfortable enough coming up to me.
But halfway through the conversation, Bran makes a strange face. He glances down at his shoes and back at the mayor. “Excuse me, Mayor,” he says. “I’m not feeling well.” Bran motions for a palace guard.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask him a little loudly in Bellestanian.
“I’ll be fine, Princess,” he replies, speaking his language as well. “Please, stay here and represent me. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Of course,” I say, and give him a formal curtsy.
That makes him grin a little bit. He lingers for a moment, clearly hoping I’ll change my mind, but people are staring at us. He can’t remain any longer and he knows it.
He turns and heads out of the ballroom with the palace guards in tow.
I stand there for a second and feel completely lost. I was feeling confident enough with Bran by my side, but now I don’t know what to do. I’m alone, really alone, and now it’s all up to me.
“Princess.” I look over and notice the waiter is standing there, smiling. He steps toward me. “A drink, perhaps?”
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“Strength,” he whispers as he walks past me. I watch him go and I take a deep breath.
I’m not alone. I have to remember that. Queen Ana is nearby, and her people are all over this room. They’re rooting for me and counting on me. I’m sure they’d rather someone in their field were involved in this, but instead it’s up to me. I’m not a spy and I don’t have any training in how to handle this, but I have to do it. I can’t turn back.
I’m not a coward. I’ll prove myself to this country.
As I turn toward the room, the American Ambassador’s wife approaches me and takes me by the arm. I like her because she speaks very good English and seems to actually like Americans. She steers me toward a group of other women and introduces me all around.
I join that conversation, thankful that I was pulled into it, though I’m constantly looking over toward Perko. I join in half-hearted, and slowly the night passes.
I’m introduced to more wives and more men, and everybody asks after Bran’s health. They all seem to want to be kind to me, because maybe I’ll put a good word into the royalty for them. Everyone except for the men huddled around Perko.
They don’t come in my direction. None of them even look toward me, in fact. I know that’s his little group of coconspirators, and to them I’m probably the enemy just as I see them as my enemy. The room suddenly becomes very clear to me, and I realize that it’s divided by ideology. There are the people that are loyal to the monarchy, and those that are not. The ones that aren’t loyal don’t come up and speak to me, since I’m going to be a part of the monarchy soon enough.
That means Perko doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. Unlike the first time we met, he doesn’t seem interested in speaking to me at all. The night slowly passes, and I get more and more nervous. I’m supposed to be seducing Perko and getting him to think that I’m unhappy, but I don’t know how to do that if there’s some invisible line I can’t cross.
I grab another fake drink from the waiter toward the end of the night. I know I have to do something, because so far I’m failing miserably, all because I’m nervous. I take my fake drink and I head back toward the bathrooms, which happen to be near the group Perko is smoking and laughing with.
As I get near the men, the waiter with the drinks tray suddenly
swerves in front of me. I have to stop and stumble to the side to avoid him, but as I stumble, I trip and spill my drink all over the legs of one of Perko’s friends.
“What the hell!” the man says loudly as he turns around,
I look at him sheepishly as the waiter walks quickly away from me. That sneaky bastard. I was going to do this on my own, but he decided to give me a little nudge in the right direction. This was my plan all along, though. Great minds think alike.
“Sorry,” I say to him in Bellestanian as formally as I know how. “I am very, very sorry.”
The man looks angry as hell for a second but quickly composes himself. “It is okay, Princess,” he says, though the last word comes out as a snarl.
“Mikhail, dear man, you’re being so rude to the Princess.” Perko steps up past the man I spilled my drink on and stops in front of me. “Are you okay, my Princess?”
Perko’s smile is almost genuine. “I’m fine, thank you,” I say softly. “I just tripped on this absurd dress.” I look down at myself with a huff.
“Yes, well, the finer points of polite company are sometimes difficult,” Mikhail says.
Perko whirls on him. “You rude bastard,” he hisses. “This is our Princess. You will apologize.”
Mikhail stares at Perko, clearly shocked, but a second later he composes himself. He bows to me very formally. “I apologize for my rude tone, Princess. Please, no offense was intended.”
“It’s okay,” I say, slurring my words a little and using my worse Bellestanian, which isn’t too far from my best. “It’s hard to be kind when your legs are wet.”
That makes Perko laugh loudly. “Truer words have never been spoken, my Princess,” he says. “Please, can I get you a drink to replace that one?”
I nod at him and smile. “Thank you, Minister Perko.”
“Come, dear, come.” He takes my arm and leads me away from the group. “Really, I must apologize for Mikhail back there. His little show of rudeness was purely… politics. You understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” I say. “This country has very strong opinions, as I’m finding out.”