by Frankie Love
I have to get out of the freaking woods.
12
I knew this whole thing was going to be a cluster fuck. Last night, taking her against the wall in my old royal chamber, was an anomaly.
It was the heat of the moment. She was high and I was hot and we were both ready. There was the exhilaration of getting married and having our first fight, and then walking into the castle ballroom. Her eyes lit up and her tits were taut and I was so pissed at even having to be there—it all led up to one passionate deflowering.
And then later, it wasn’t just hot, it was heaven.
But now, seeing her like this, unwilling to even take a moment and try to see where I’m coming from? It’s exactly what I thought it would be: a disaster.
Unless a woman chose this life on her own there’s no way in hell she would want it. I don’t know how this is going to work, unless she calms the fuck down.
She storms around the cabin, rifling through the suitcase that’s tossed open across our bed.
“I got coffee,” I tell her, setting her cup on the counter. “And croissants. I don’t usually do that shit, but I thought it would help start things off right.”
“Right. Because coffee is just going to make up for that fact we don’t have electricity.”
“I was trying to be a fucking gentleman.”
“Yeah, you should totally get a prize for that.”
I shake my head and walk to the stove. I stoke the dying embers, add a log, and stare into the flames—because, hell, I don’t know how to deal with Iris.
These four walls feel much too cramped. Not enough space for two of us.
I look over my shoulder and see her, wrapped in a towel, looking for clothes in her suitcase. My cock twitches at the sight of her bare shoulders and dewy face. What I wouldn’t do to rip that terrycloth off and throw it across the room.
“There’s some drawers over there,” I tell her, nodding to the dresser in the corner. “You don’t have to leave your stuff lying around.”
“Seriously? Garrick, I’ve been here less than one day. Can you give me a break, just like a little bit? I’ll unpack, but God, it’s been like five seconds.”
I know that defending myself, explaining that I didn’t mean she needed to do it right now, that I just wanted to tell her I made space for her, won’t do any good. Instead, I stand, take another drink of the black coffee I got from the shop in town.
“This is an arranged marriage, Iris. I didn’t pick this match either. We’re going to have to compromise.”
Still hovering over her suitcase, she bristles. “I was totally tricked into this. I thought I was marrying a prince who at least wanted a wife.”
“Oh, Princess, nobody tricked you. Your daddy was desperate.”
“Don’t talk about my father. You don’t know him, and you don’t know me. So I’ll tell you a few things, since you didn’t ask. I may have loved our time last night, but I am not just going to take it up the ass.” She crosses her arms, and walks toward me, obviously wanting to make her point crystal clear. “I’m not going to budge on the hot water issue,” she says, “or the refrigerator issue. I’m not asking for the freaking world, or the castle, or a maid, or even a car. I just want to dry my hair.”
“Oh, I see.” I snort. “So you’re laying down an ultimatum now? One morning without your precious hairdryer and you’re hoping to strike a deal? I don’t do deals, Princess.”
“I didn’t ask you to make a deal with me, Garrick. I’m just telling you like it is.” She drops the towel and tosses it on the floor.
My eyes rake over her gorgeous, naked body. Her hips are begging me to hold them, her breasts full and made for a titty-fuck. Her pussy is perfectly shaven, perfectly mine.
She wants to fight? Fine. I’ll just have to get her on her back and make her stop all this fussing.
“How it is, huh?” I ask, taking her by the waist and drawing her to me. “I know you don’t want to take it up the ass, but Princess, your pussy will do just fine.”
“Are you kidding me?” Iris asks, looking up at me.
“What’s your deal, woman? I thought you were ready to go again.”
“You’re wrong.” She pushes away from me. “You don’t want to play games? Fine. I don’t either. You don’t want to make a deal? Fine. I don’t either. You want to have sex with me? Fine. Move me out of this shack.”
“What are you getting at?” I step toward Iris again, still enamored with the rise and fall of her tits, but also the rise and fall of her question.
Move out of the shack?
“You heard me, Garrick. You know perfectly well what I’m saying to you. You want this,” she asks, gesturing up and down her body. Her bare naked body. “Then you need to change this.” She waves her hand around my cabin.
I sigh, running my hand over my jaw.
“Your body has a price, that’s what you’re saying?” I ask.
“Not a price. I’m looking for respect Garrick.”
I woke this morning wanting to make a bridge from her world to mine. I got her fucking coffee and thought she’d be able to handle a conversation. I thought the two of us could sit on the front porch—my front porch—and talk things out like reasonable adults.
She wants to fight instead?
I’m not leaving this place, not for her, not now. Not ever.
“So what’s it going to be?” Iris asks. She reaches for the towel on the floor but makes no move to wrap it around herself. The confidence this woman has is intoxicating. She shakes her wet hair out, droplets of water falling across my hardwood floor.
My floor. In my cabin. The place I’m not leaving for anyone. Especially someone who won’t calm the fuck down and talk things through. She’s so riled up.
I’m not going to be swayed by one pussy, no matter how perfect it is.
“Princess, you’re not going to move me with those tits. It’s going to take a lot more than that. This is our house. So you can just get the idea of leaving out of your pretty little head. This idea you have of us moving to the castle? No way in hell.”
“Oh my God, Garrick you’re such an ass.” She turns from me, reaching into her suitcase, then grabs a tiny thong and pulls it on. I watch her exposed ass cheeks as she chooses a bra, clasping it on and adjusting her perfect tits in the cups.
“What, you’re just going to sit here and watch me dress?” she asks. “Don’t you have something better to do, like hike in the woods or chop down a tree? What do you even do all day?”
“I have plenty of things to do, and you’re right: I’m not going to sit around here watching you bitch about your life.” I walk to the front door, grab my rifle, and sling it over my shoulder.
“Oh my God, what are you going to do with that gun?” Iris asks, standing in nothing but her bra and panties.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to go find us some food. We live at the base of the mountain. I’m a mountain prince. You’re my mountain princess. I work in the castle, but in my time off I fucking live like a man who lives in the woods. And as my wife, who lives in the woods with me, I suggest you go to town to find yourself a pair of boots. Maybe a coat. Because those sun dresses and bathing suits?” I point to her suitcase. “They won’t cut it here, Princess.”
“Just like that?” she asks, crossing her arms. “You’re just leaving? This is a joke of a honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon? That’s what you’re pissed about?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I never expected a honeymoon like Violet is having. She and Hunter are in love. So it’s different. He wanted to give her everything she wanted because they want to be together.”
I clench my jaw, looking at the fucking croissants on the counter and wondering how the fuck I thought that would be enough to win Iris over.
She’s a woman. My bride. And I thought a fucking pastry would be enough.
But she’s thrown down ultimatums, and hell, I don’t want to be the one backing down. The one givi
ng in and giving everything up.
“There’s cash in the kitchen drawers,” I tell her. “Get yourself what you need.”
Her eyes are on the floor, and she looks defeated. Like she really thought I’d just pull her into my arms and whisk her off to the castle, to the place that represents everything I can’t stand.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll go get the things I need. You’re right, I only have summer clothes.”
“If you show up here in some ball gown, I’m making you march right back to the shops.”
I pull open the front door and head outside.
13
He leaves the cabin, and I’m grateful.
I lower myself to the edge of the bed, tears brimming in my eyes.
I’ve never fought like that with a man before. I’ve never fought like that with anyone before.
I’m the middle sister, which means I’m the peacemaker. I’m not the responsible one, and I’m certainly not the innocent one, but for some reason my eyes have always been wide open.
Right now, I just want to shut them.
Tears fall, and I cover my face with my hands. Trying to catch my breath, I think about what I’m supposed to do.
I root around in my purse for my cell phone. Crossing my fingers, I turn it on, and see that it’s still charged. Thank God there’s an international phone plan on it. Violet insisted I have a working phone before I left Elexia. Hunter had it sent to me before I had to leave. I haven’t met Violet’s husband, but I’ve already decided he’s a keeper.
Having programmed the number of the hotel where they’re staying for their honeymoon, I dial the number. They’re in the Mediterranean, because Hunter knows how to properly treat his princess. Garrick could take a few lessons from him.
“Violet?”
“It’s Hunter. One moment, Iris, let me get your sister.”
“Iris? What are you doing calling? Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. It’s a disaster. It’s beyond a disaster. It’s ruined. I didn’t call Dahlia, of course. Because if she hears how horrible my marriage is, there’s no way in hell she’s going to show up at Prince Lucas’s house next week. But I’m telling you, this is a cluster. An SOS, 911, emergency. This will not work.”
“Iris,” Violet says calmly. “Start at the beginning.”
“There is no beginning. I need you. I need you to come here. You and Hunter can come rescue me. Please be my knight in shining armor.”
“Knight in shining armor? What are you talking about, Iris?”
“I’m talking about the fact that yesterday I got married to a beast.”
“Iris, calm down.” I hear Violet talking to Hunter, obviously explaining this entire thing to him. “Iris, I put you on speaker. Start at the beginning, for reals this time.”
“Great, so Hunter can know how horrible my life is also. Do you know that I’m currently residing in a one-room cabin without electricity?”
“What?” Hunter laughs. And I wish I could reach through this phone and rip him a new one.
“It’s not funny, Hunter,” I moan, falling onto my mattress. My head hits the pillows, which smell like Garrick—so manly and so good.
I punch them. I punch the pillows. I don’t want a husband who smells good if it means he’s a total jerk. I want Garrick to be nice to me. I want the Garrick who held me all night and made my body feel so good. Not the Garrick who wants to fight, who wants to dig his heels in.
“Iris?” Violet asks. “Are you still there?”
“Do you know what I’m dealing with?” I ask. “You know how we joked that Garrick was a recluse? He really is. This whole country is super wealthy; the castle is what I dreamed it would be. Ball gowns and slippers and bonbons and harps. And wedding cake. They made us a wedding cake.”
“It sounds like a dream.” Violet says. “Now, Iris, what exactly is the problem?”
“Because that’s the castle, Violet—the castle Garrick refuses to sleep in. We live outside of town. In this tiny one-room cabin without hot water.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.”
“Not what I expected? This isn’t what anyone would expect. This is a nightmare. No wonder eight other princesses refused to marry him. There aren’t any electrical sockets.”
“Hell, I know how you can deal with this guy,” Hunter says.
A surge of hope ignites within me. “Really? What do you think I should do?” At this point I’m game for anything. I know nothing about psychoanalyzing men.
“Play hardball.”
Deflated, I explain, “Oh, I tried that. I got naked for him, and then I told him we wouldn’t be sleeping together unless we moved out of the cabin. I thought for sure I could tempt him with that. But nope, he just stormed out with a gun. A gun. He said he was hunting for our dinner. What year is this? Because seriously, at the castle there were roasted pigs and steins of beer and plenty to go around. Instead of all of that, my husband is going to hunt for what, wild turkey?”
“Iris, calm down.” I hear Violet and Hunter giggling in the background and it makes me furious.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” I can practically hear Violet smiling through the phone.
“Refusing sex once is one thing,” Hunters says. “But Garrick is a man with a pulse, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you slept with him on your wedding night?”
“Yes. More than once. That’s how nice I am, so willing and adoring, a perfect freaking wife. What do I get in return? Coffee.”
“Right,” Hunter says, not giving into my tantrum—or probably even understanding it. “But, Iris, think about it. You slept with him all night. Give it a day. Hell, give it a few days. There’s no way this man can hold out. You play hard ball and he’ll come to you begging.”
“Really? That’s the game I should play? You think?”
“In the meantime your job is to charm his pants off,” Hunter says. “Make him see that he can’t live without you.”
“No. I’m not going to be the one charming anybody,” I tell them, my voice fiery with rage. “He’s the one who should be charming me. I’m his wife.”
“Whoa, Princess,” Hunter says. “We get that point. So you’re not going to do any charming. I think the easiest route here, then, is denying him what he wants. There’s no way this poor sucker is going to hold out longer than a day or two.”
“I can do that.”
“Good,” Violet says. “Because we’re not leaving our honeymoon to come rescue you. This is your life—and Iris? It’s the life you’ve been waiting for.”
“I have not been waiting to move to this backwards village.”
“See if grows on you,” Violet says. “In a week, if it’s still just as horrible, we can come up with a different plan. Until then—”
“Until then,” Hunter interjects, “make him suffer.”
Violet laughs, and I can’t help smiling myself. I can’t believe Hunter is married to my uptight sister. He’s this joking, easygoing man. The perfect complement to her.
I can’t help but wonder if I’m the right complement for Garrick. We’re so different. I can’t imagine we could really work.
“I’ll try,” I tell them. “For you and dad and Dahlia. For Elexia.”
“And by try, I’m telling you, Iris,” Hunter adds, “walk around in a negligée. Forget to wear a bra. Play with your hair. Wear a garter belt. Spray whipped cream on a banana and eat it slowly.”
Violet and I crack up, but I think he’s right.
I thank them and end the call.
Then I immediately begin to make a list of things I need to get in town.
I smile, and underneath winter coat and winter boots and wool socks and long underwear, I write whipped cream.
I am going to win.
14
Look, I’m not looking for a woman who’s going to do exactly as I say. But throwing a tantrum without even t
rying to understand where I’m coming from is not going to fly.
Iris thinks she wants to play hardball with me? She has no idea what she’s up against. No way in hell am I going to change my way of life for a woman I just met.
Iris looked so fucking hot stepping straight out of the shower, it had my cock rock hard.
And for a second, I considered giving in to her request. For a second, I thought losing my convictions would be worth another taste of her perfect pussy.
But then I remembered that this girl woke up, in a new place, without any clue of what she was getting herself into.
So, of course she’s going to throw down ultimatums the first chance she gets. That doesn’t mean I have to give in. No way in hell is Iris going to hold out for longer than a day. She won’t be able to suppress herself that long. Not after having experienced an entire night with my cock.
With my rifle slung over my shoulder, I hike deeper into the woods. I thought checking my traps while out in the open air would help calm me down.
It was a good call. Being out in the woods always clears my head, and I don’t need to catch some big game in order to get my ego stroked.
It’s about being outside, about the clean air and the high altitude and the quiet—the exact opposite of the castle. You’d think being a Historic Village would mean people pay a little more reverence to where we come from. But that’s not the case. There are so many damn tourists clogging those cobblestone streets that any understanding of what Alpinweiss was five hundred years ago is nonexistent.
No one seems to care about our forests and rich natural resources. They just want a beer served by barkeeps in lederhosen. They want sausage on a fucking stick.
I check my traps. I was out here yesterday morning, and everything is still empty. I walk a few miles and almost forget the fight in my cabin this morning, almost forget the way Iris and I ended things.
But then I look up, see a flock of birds squawking in the tree branches, and I’m reminded of our heated exchange.
Hopefully Iris has gone into town by now and gotten herself some things to wear. Maybe spending some money and seeing the village will take the edge off. She doesn’t want to stay in my rustic cabin? Fine. Then let her go spend some time in town.