by Olivia Gates
He bit into one of the thighs clinging to him. “I will do it, again and again. But I want to do something first.”
Getting off the bed, he strode out of sight, then suddenly the chamber was plunged in total darkness.
Her heart thudded. Was he still loath to make love to her while she saw all of him? Or maybe now that he had let her see all of him, he needed the respite of darkness?
Suddenly silver light engulfed the whole bed. It took her several stunned heartbeats to realize he’d thrown the drapes and inner shutters of the enclosed balcony open to the night sky. The full moon was framed in the middle of the paneled windows. The moonlight was so intense, she could see nothing outside its domain, didn’t know where Leonid was now.
“This is how you should be showcased...” She lurched at his bass rasp as he seemed to materialize before her moonstruck eyes, a colossal shadow detaching from the darkness, made of mystery and magic. “A goddess of wanton desires, of rampant pleasures, waiting for worshippers to come pay homage, glowing, ripe, voracious, spellbinding.”
She was all that?
She could only murmur, “Look who’s talking.”
He came into the moon’s spotlight, the stark illumination casting harsh shadows over the noble sculpture of his face, turning it from regal to supernatural. His skin and hair glimmered with highlights as he pushed her back on the bed, loomed over her, the full moon blazing at his back, turning him into a magnificent silhouette. Only his eyes caught its silver beams, glowing like incandescent sapphires. She went limp beneath him with the power of it all, the sheer brutal beauty of him, of these moments.
Her chest tightened one last time over the jagged pieces of the past, the terrible memories, before it let them go, then swelled with the new and uncontainable hopes and expectations. Those of having him again. This time, forever.
Crying out, her desperation shattered the last shackle holding him back. He lunged between her eagerly spreading thighs, letting her feel his dominance for a fraught moment.
“Moya boginya...” Gazing into her streaming eyes, calling her his goddess, he plunged inside her with one long, hard thrust.
Her body jerked beneath him as the hot, vital glide of his thick, rigid shaft in her core drove her into profound sensual shock. She clamped her legs around him, high over his back, giving him full surrender, delirious with witnessing the pleasure of possessing her seizing his face. He ground deeper into her until his whole length was buried inside her, filling her beyond capacity. Sensation sharpened, shattering her. She cried out again, tears flowing faster.
He started moving, severing eye contact only to run fevered appreciation over her body, watching her every quake and grimace of pleasure, all the while growling driven, tormenting things.
“How could there be wanting like this...pleasure like this?”
She keened as he accentuated every word with a harder thrust. He devoured the explicit sounds, his tongue invading her mouth, mimicking his body’s movements inside her.
Her sanity burned with the friction and fullness of his flesh in hers, the fusion, the totality of it, now that she knew it was indeed total, and would never end.
Her cries grew louder as his plunges grew longer, until she clawed at him for the jarring rhythm that would finish her. Only then did he build to it, his eyes burning, his face taut, savage with need, sublime in beauty. She fought back her own ecstasy, greedy for the moment his seized him.
Realizing she was holding back, he growled, “Come for me, moya koroleva, let me see what I do to you.”
Her body almost erupted hearing him call her my queen.
But she held on, thrashed her head. “Come with me...”
Roaring, he thrust deeper, destroying her restraint. Release buffeted her, razing her body in convulsions. Those peaked to agony when he succumbed to her demand, gave her what she always craved. Him, at the mercy of the ecstasy of union with her, pleasure racking him, his seed filling her in hard jets. She felt it all, and shattered.
Time and space vanished as he melted into her, grounded the magic into reality, eased her back into her body.
Everything came back into jarring focus when he tried to move off her. She caught him. His weight should have been crushing, but it had always been only anchoring, necessary. Like he was.
But he’d never let her have his weight as long as she wished, insisting it burdened her. He now rose on outstretched arms, his eyes gleaming satisfaction over her ravished state.
“Koroleva moyey zhizhni.” He trailed a gently abrasive hand over her, eyes worshipping. “Queen of my life.”
A vast thankfulness expanded inside her so hard, she could barely speak. “How do you say ‘king of my world’?”
His whole face blazed with pleasure and pride, his drawl painfully sexy and harsh with emotion. “Korol’ moy mir.”
“Korol’ moy mir.”
Whispering the pledge against his lips, she could say no more as perfect peace, for the first time in her life, dragged her into a well of contentment where nothing else existed...
* * *
Live classic Zoryan music woke Kassandra from a delicious dream filled with Leonid.
The royal band was rehearsing in the seafront gardens again for the coming ceremonies.
Though the drapes were securely drawn, and the chamber was dark, she just knew. The sun was shining today.
It had been shining the past two weeks. Everyone she met insisted it was the blessing of the new king and his twin stars. Kassandra was ready to believe it. If happiness like this was possible, then maybe it bent the very laws of nature to itself, too.
It had changed her on a fundamental level. Her heart beat to a different rhythm, her skin had a richer texture, colors had magical hues and life tasted and smelled of him.
Leonid.
Even if she was back in her quarters, and he hadn’t been sleeping beside her this past week, practically had no time for her at all in his consuming preoccupation with preparations, she felt him all around her.
And as if he hadn’t been insanely busy enough, he was now preparing living quarters for them, not his or the ones she was currently staying in, but something totally new and theirs, now that their marriage would be real.
She’d refused to even see where it would be, wanted him to surprise her. Even as a designer, her imagination could never match what his love would bestow on her.
Now he was running against time so it would be ready on the day of the combined rituals: his coronation, and their wedding.
God...their wedding!
She still couldn’t believe any of this was happening.
When she’d asked him to marry her, she’d thought they’d elope, since they’d told everyone they were already married. But Zorya’s newly reformed royal council wouldn’t sanction an undocumented marriage as proof of the twins’ legitimacy. Leonid had said if she hadn’t proposed that night, he would have the next morning. Zorya was demanding a wedding to fix their lack of documentation. And from what she was seeing, it was going to be the royal wedding of the century. Her family, who would come two days before the rituals, were all beside themselves with excitement. Yes, even her father.
Everything felt like a fantasy. Far better than one. She constantly found herself wondering if she was having a ridiculously extravagant wish-fulfillment dream and would wake up to the bleak reality of two weeks ago.
Could everything really be this perfect?
Suddenly, her heart contracted with foreboding.
Pausing until the spasm passed, she wondered at the far stronger than usual attack. Seemed the approaching ceremonies and the superstitious bent of this land had her spooked.
Pushing the ridiculous and unfounded anxieties away, she rose and rushed through getting ready.
Hurrying to the girls first, h
er mood soared again as they concluded their morning rituals. Afterward, she left them with Despina and Anya and went in search of Leonid. Though she’d been leaving him alone to take care of his endless details, she had to see him today. Just touch and kiss him, before leaving him to his urgent affairs.
As she reached his stateroom, Fedor informed her that Leonid had a surprise visit from an important royal family member.
Before she told Fedor to ask Leonid to touch base with her when he could as she didn’t want to call and disturb him, the door opened, and what she thought a Valkyrie would look like walked out. And it was clear she was not happy.
Suddenly, Leonid appeared after the woman, and the expression on his face froze her heart. He looked...pained.
The woman turned to him and they shared a charged moment. She was clearly angry. He appeared to be doing all he could to placate her.
Refusing his efforts, the mystery statuesque blonde turned away, leaving him looking more distressed. In a minute she passed Kassandra as she stood in the shadows. Surprise flickered in the woman’s eyes before she impaled her on a glance of hostility and walked away.
Leonid just then noticed her and rushed to her, his expression trying to warm, and failing.
Heart thudding, she asked, “Anything wrong?”
He waved. “A trivial dispute. Olga already doesn’t approve of my policy making. She’ll come around.”
Then, kissing her, he promised he’d be there for dinner as usual, excused himself and rushed away.
After watching him until he disappeared, she walked back slowly, wrestling with tremors all the way back to her quarters. It had to be that time of the month making her morose, making her find normal things distressing.
But...if this was normal, why had Leonid lied?
For she had no doubt that he had.
Was there anything else he could have lied about? Like the reason he hadn’t been sleeping with her since they’d announced their coming wedding ten days ago?
Had her intuition that nothing could be this perfect been right?
As the girls received her with their usual fanfare, she tried to shake those insidious, malignant doubts.
But they’d already taken root.
Ten
“I so hope Princess Olga will get over her disappointment soon.”
Kassandra’s hands froze over the gold-and-black costumes she’d designed for Eva and Zoya for the ceremonies.
Anya’s words brought images of the incredibly beautiful and regal Olga assailing her. Standing toe-to-toe with Leonid, looking like his female counterpart, every line in her majestic body taut with emotion.
Did Olga’s disappointment have to do with Leonid’s impending wedding to her? Was that why she’d shot her that antagonistic look? Was she what stood between Olga and the man she wanted?
Forcing herself to sound normal, she asked, “Disappointment over what?”
“That she won’t be queen.”
That was the first time she’d heard that. No one around here, including Leonid, had told her the details of what had led to him being announced the future king. Even in the news, when other candidates were said to exist, they were never named, since Leonid was the only one who mattered, the one with the global fame and clout.
“So she was one of the candidates for the throne?”
Anya, who Leonid had appointed as her lady-in-waiting, nodded. “She was actually the preferred one. Not only has Zorya always preferred female monarchs, since its birth at the hands of a queen and under the mantle of two goddesses, but Olga is the spitting image of Esfir, Zorya’s founder and first queen. Many believe she’s her reincarnation.”
Kassandra’s heart started to thud. “So what happened?”
Oblivious to her condition, Anya handed her another needle threaded with the last color Kassandra needed to finish embroidering Zorya’s emblem on Eva’s skirt.
“Prince Leonid was always the better candidate, logically speaking, outstripping Olga, and anyone in Zorya for that matter, in wealth and influence by light years. But everyone in Zorya would have overlooked all that because of Olga answering Zorya’s specific criteria better. We are a land steeped in tradition and legend, and our beliefs in what makes us Zoryan rule supreme. Olga was an omen, representing our founding queen, a return to the glory days, a rebirth. But then Prince Leonid produced something even better. Nonidentical twin daughters, the very personification of our patron goddesses. That made the scale crash in his favor. The representatives of the people and the new royal council were unanimous that it was a sign from the fates. You, my lady, naming them both names meaning life, heralding a new life for the kingdom, was, as you Americans say, the cherry on top.”
Kassandra tried not to stare at Anya as if she’d just shot her. But the woman’s next words felt like more bullets.
“Before Prince Leonid announced the existence of the royal twins and his marriage to you, Princess Olga’s supporters advised her to marry him, so Zorya would have him and his power as the queen’s consort. So you can understand her disappointment that she not only won’t have the title, but won’t have the best man on earth as a husband. I only hope she gets over her displeasure and starts collaborating with Prince Leonid. Zorya needs them both.”
* * *
Three hours and endless details later, Anya left her only when the girls’ costumes were done.
Still in an uproar over the revelations, which Leonid hadn’t once hinted at, Kassandra continued her efforts to distract herself, now having the girls try on the costumes they’d just finished.
Looking at her daughters in the ornate dresses she’d designed to reflect their new home’s history, their new roles as the kingdom’s icons, she couldn’t help but believe they were born to wear them, to be princesses, with a legacy rooted in tradition and legend.
No wonder the people whose beliefs were based on the lore of the two goddesses thought them a sign from the fates.
But those same people bowed to tradition so much, they’d still refused to sanction such signs’ legitimacy based on an undocumented marriage, and had demanded a new wedding. That had been what Kassandra wanted most in life. To marry her beloved Leonid on the same day he became king.
At least, it was what she’d wanted until a few hours ago.
But now...now...she didn’t know what to think.
Actually, she did know. And it was...terrible.
If Leonid had needed Eva and Zoya to win the race for the crown, if this is why he’d come for them, it changed everything.
It meant he hadn’t come back for them as his daughters. He’d only needed them as his ace, which would trump anyone else’s claim, even the preferred heir. But what about her?
Had everything that had happened between them been second to attaining his goal? Was he now marrying her because it was the one way to seal the deal? Or was it far worse than that?
Could it be Olga had always been his preferred choice, but he wouldn’t accept anything less than being king himself, with her by his side as his queen consort? Could Kassandra be simply the more convenient choice, a means to make the best of a terrible situation, since he adamantly believed that he and the girls were what was best for the kingdom?
Could he be that driven to become king, over anybody’s hearts and lives, including his own? Could it be all that passion, all those emotions, all the things he’d told her, had all been him doing whatever it took to fulfill his duty, to claim his destiny?
From then on her projections grew even more morbid. Maybe he was biding his time until after the coronation and the wedding, when his need for her would end, so he could leave her for the woman he wanted for real.
If so, was what he’d told her that day in his hospital room the truth after all? That he’d never cared for her, hated her clinging and couldn’t wa
it to be rid of her?
It all made sense in a macabre way. For if it didn’t, why had he come back for the girls, and according to him for her, too, only when Zorya had announced its secession and its revival of the monarchy? Why hadn’t he told her anything about Olga or his need for the girls to secure the throne before? Was he really as preoccupied as he appeared, or was he only unable to feign desire for her anymore?
If any of that was real, how could she go through with the wedding? How could she give him every right to the girls?
If any of those horrible suspicions were true, it made him a monster.
* * *
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
This statement, or variations of it, had been all that Leonid got to say for the past half hour, as Kassandra’s father gave him a winded lecture, liberally peppered with ill-veiled threats, about manhood, marriage and family life.
At least it seemed his total submission to the man’s badgering and his unqualified acceptance of his menacing directives appeased the proud and forceful Greek man. Now Leonid decided to put his mind to rest completely.
“I assure you, Kyrie Stavros, I left Kassandra only because I thought my life was over after the accident, and I believed it was for the best not to tie her life, and the twins’, to someone as damaged as I was. But I’ve since been restored more than I dreamed possible, and Kassandra, and Eva and Zoya, have completed my healing. Kassandra is my heart, my everything, and I’d give my life without a second thought to never hurt her again. I will give my life to make her happy.”
Loukas Stavros’s eyes had widened with every word, seemingly impressed by Leonid’s impassioned declaration, which he clearly hadn’t expected.
Reeling back his surprise, Stavros tried to pin austerity back on his face. “As long as we understand each other.”
Fiercely glad that Kassandra, and the twins, had such a man, such a family to love and protect them so fiercely, Leonid’s lips spread in a grin. “We certainly do. And thanks for your restraint. If it was me talking to the man who left either Eva or Zoya pregnant and heartbroken, I would have taken him apart first, then given him the lecture.”