by Beth Hodgson
“When we were over at Remy’s the day after the incident, I talked him about it. I gave him the money, and he agreed to buy it for you. But I told him that you should have a red one, whatever he chose. Red is your color. He delivered it today when you were at Diego’s.”
“Was Diego in on this scheme of yours?”
“Yes. The band all pitched in, but I gave the biggest portion,” Emerald said proudly. “Although, I don’t have much money left, so hopefully the band is happy with the flyer and is willing to give me more work.” Emerald winked, then sat back down in front of her painting. She picked up her brush and proceeded to paint red between the black lines where Kyle’s figure was.
He suddenly felt guilty and completely insecure. Never in his life had he felt that way, especially when it came to women. He never had to think twice around them. But damn, Em was the princess of Arcadia.
Shifting uncomfortably on the floor, he said, “Em… you didn’t have to spend your money on me. Really.”
“Nonsense.” Emerald waved at him nonchalantly. “I had to. You’ve given me a place to stay for a while. Consider that rent for a month.”
“Ha ha,” Kyle joked sarcastically, turning back to strum his guitar. “Red, huh?”
“Everyone is associated with a color.”
“They are?”
“Well, yes,” Emerald said definitively, as if there was no reason to question it. “It is stated in The Spectrum.”
“You believe in that?”
Emerald looked at him, confused. “Why, yes, don’t you?”
“I suppose there is some great being out there. Never gave it much thought, though.” Kyle shrugged, continuing to strum his guitar.
“Don’t you ever wonder how the world was created, or what happens to us after we die?”
“Don’t really care. All I know is that I hope to die when this”—he nodded his head at his tattoo—“reaches my hand.” Kyle puffed on his cigarette through pursed lips. He heard an interworking of a new melody in his head and tried to play it softly through their conversation.
“Doesn’t matter if you believe it or not,” Emerald said, shrugging. She turned to her picture, painting it while he played. “Your color is red. Get used to it,” she said playfully, as if that was the only way to convince him.
“And what’s yours? Purple?” he said, picking a random color, as he already knew the answer.
The princess cracked a smile. “Purple is a shade of violet. And no, I am not violet. Just because I like that color, doesn’t mean it’s my true color.”
“What is your true color?” he asked casually.
Let me guess, green.
“Green,” she said, continuing to paint her picture.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Because… I just do,” Emerald said simply, not meeting his eyes.
Kyle watched her dab globs of different colors together on a clean section of her palette, mixing them. “What are you doing?” he asked, curious.
“I’m making black.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just use black paint?”
Emerald gave him a smile. “I suppose it would, but I like making mine.”
Kyle continued to watch her mix, until the paints uniformly turned dark. “So black is all of the colors mixed together?”
“It is if you are talking about pigments,” Emerald explained. “But if you are referring to light, all of the colors combined makes white.” She made a few black strokes on her painting, then picked up another brush, dabbing it with red paint.
“Why do you think my color is red?” Kyle asked curiously, setting his guitar down off to the side. He grabbed an ashtray next to him, putting out the cigarette.
“You always seem angry.”
Kyle snorted at her answer, slightly amused. “That hurts, Em! Do I really come off as an asshole that much?”
Emerald leaned over her painting, her face hovering two inches in front of his. Kyle’s heart began to pound in his chest, unsure of what she was going to do.
There was a long pause between them, both of them unmoving.
Oh God… Kyle thought, staring at her bright eyes. Oh my fucking God…
Suddenly, he was startled by a wet brush stroke of paint on the side of his face.
Emerald leaned back to her painting, giggling. “Yes, most of the time,” she teased.
“The hell?” Kyle laughed, completely caught off guard at her playfulness. He grabbed a paintbrush off the floor, then a tube of green paint that was next to it, squirting it on the brush.
The princess was already anticipating his next move. She shot up from her painting, running across the room, laughing.
Kyle dashed after Emerald, cornering her, dabbing her cheek with his wet paintbrush. Emerald fought back, brushing another stroke across his neck rather quickly. Kyle responded by painting a giant green stroke on her arm.
Emerald tackled him, then they both tumbled to the floor, still wrestling back and forth with the paintbrushes. Emerald was starting to become slippery from the paint, and they were both covered in their respective colors. Both of them tried to reach for the paint tubes to recharge their paintbrushes, but with their playful fighting, they both failed. Instead, Emerald continued to wrestle with him until she twisted from his grasp, making her way on top of him with her legs wrapped around his waist.
Acutely aware of her position, Emerald’s face froze, awaiting his reaction.
Kyle made no attempt to continue their game and went still as well. He watched Emerald soaking in the visual of his chest rising and falling as he inhaled and exhaled. He breathed steadily in and out, each breath sucking in more hunger for her.
Slowly, she unzipped his leather vest, exposing his chest for her eyes to indulge. Reaching for her paintbrush, she painted a fresh red line from his neck, then guided the paintbrush down until the paint crossed over his pectorals, then further to his abs, then stopped right above his groin. As her paintbrush worked its way down his body, his blood began to boil with an insatiable desire.
God, he wanted her.
Emerald finished the stroke, then set her paintbrush down. She nervously placed her hands on the newly painted stroke, then slowly guided her hands down the painted trail on his body. Her touch stimulated him, causing his lower member to stir with hardness. His hands reached for hers, enclosing his strong hands around her dainty ones. They were soft, softer than any other woman’s that he had held. Kyle then guided her delicate hands to his lips, kissing one of them.
“I’m scared,” she confessed as her hands trembled in his.
Kyle knew what she meant. She was a virgin. Considering who she was, she had to be.
Not in a million years would Kyle turn away sex with her, but he couldn’t be the one to defile her, princess or not. It just didn’t seem right. She was innocent, and he was, well… not.
“Em, you don’t want to do this. You are too good of a person,” Kyle told her in a whisper. “Don’t waste it on me.”
Emerald blushed, then took his hand and rested it against her cheek. “But I want to,” she answered with fierce desire.
Kyle’s heart quickened.
Before he could respond, Emerald leaned over him with eager eyes, her lips brushing against his. The scent of her lit a fire within him, and his arousal turned feral. Placing one of his hands on the back of her head, he pulled her head to his, and their lips pressed together, and they wildly tasted each other for the first time. She was an aphrodisiac. Nothing tasted as sweet as her lips, and he wanted more of her. He had wanted her the moment he met her, and now that he had tasted her, she was somehow causing him to lose control of himself, sinking into the fleshly desires of his heart.
She moaned softly in between their exchange of passionate kisses. Emerald’s hand traveled down his naked chest, resting it where he throbbed uncontrollably. He yanked her closer, his thigh pressing between her legs. He heard a raspy moan, then her lips were kissing his ears, biting them play
fully. Responding, he kissed her neck roughly as she moaned with pleasure. Kyle could feel that she was damp with excitement, which made him even harder.
A random, annoying thought instantly flashed in his mind. It wasn’t the thought about Emerald being a princess. That thought had come and gone. It was the color yellow.
The fuck was he thinking about color at a time like this? It must have been his conversation with Emerald about colors.
Go away, he said harshly to the thought. I’m fucking busy. Literally. But the thought continued to pester him, like a damn annoying fly that one could not swat. Forcing himself to cast the thought out of his mind, it finally left him free of distraction once again.
Then he took Emerald’s lips in with full pleasure, working his mouth in a downward direction against the burning flesh of her skin, until it stopped at the top of her breasts. She placed her hands upon his head, guiding him, letting him know she wanted him to continue.
Damn, it was going to be a good night.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Damaris walked madly through the palace to Elyathi’s quarters with a quickened pace, hoping to catch the little snake before it was too late. With each step, Damaris felt the urge that he needed to punch something, or someone. Especially if what was told to him was true. There would be hell to pay.
Of all the people to betray him, it had to be his closest friend and ally, Samir. Damaris expected much better of Samir, him being a loyal father and husband to the Queen of York. Never in a hundred years would Damaris have imagined Samir being tangled up in an affair. Especially one with his wife.
Damaris, along with ten men from his personal guard, arrived outside the elaborate carved double doors to the queen of Arcadia’s chambers. Without a moment to waste, Damaris nodded to one of the guards, giving them the signal. Immediately, the guardsmen began to pry the thick doors open with crowbars, yanking the doors free from its lock.
As soon as the doors flung open, Damaris briskly stepped inside the chambers, first entering Elyathi’s sitting room. No one was there, not even her handmaidens. His eyes narrowed. Her servants were not supposed to leave the Queen alone. Ever.
Damaris advanced to the next set of doors, which led to the Queen’s bedroom. Sounds could be heard from behind the doors. Elyathi’s sobs, and another low voice.
He knew that voice. It was none other than Samir.
Hurling the door open, Damaris charged inside, instantly seeing what he feared most. The King of York was with his queen, holding her in his arms as she continued to sob, stroking her hair.
Both Elyathi and Samir’s attention shifted immediately to Damaris, alarmed. Elyathi’s crystal-blue eyes were puffy from crying, and her long, wavy white hair was wild with fear. Samir’s black hair and eyes stood strong, fearless of the situation about to unfold.
“So, it’s true. My wife and my best friend. The two people that mattered most.”
Elyathi shook her head, stepping away from Samir. “It’s not what you think.”
“And I am supposed to believe that?” Damaris snarled, walking toward Elyathi.
She took another step back, almost in a protective stance. What did she think he was going to do? Hurt her? He would never dream of doing such a thing. Only Samir. He would kill him with his own bare hands.
“She’s right.” Samir stepped forward, confronting Damaris. “Despite what you think, it’s not as it seems.”
Damaris came within an inch of Samir, seething hatred from his lips. “How dare you come into Arcadia, march into my wife’s personal bedchambers, and try to take her away from me!”
“Think whatever you want. But that is not the truth.”
“Let me rephrase. You have come to loan my kingdom money in exchange for making a whore out of my wife in secret!” Damaris’s fists began to shake. “Is that more like it?”
Samir clenched his jaw, snarling. “I am not making a whore out of Elyathi!”
“He is doing no such thing,” Elyathi called out meekly. “I am leaving Arcadia. With Emerald.”
Damaris shot his face toward the Queen. “You are not leaving! You will never leave this place!” he shouted. Damaris swung a fist toward Samir, landing a blow to the chest. Samir stumbled back, slamming against a wall. “No one is going anywhere! Not my wife, and not my daughter!” He turned to Samir. “Especially not you.”
Samir quickly got ahold of himself, then charged toward Damaris, leaping onto him, knocking both of them to the ground. Elyathi cried out while they tumbled back and forth on the ground, throwing punches.
“Elyathi has already made up her mind! She doesn’t want to be in Arcadia anymore. You must listen, my friend,” Samir yelled as he threw another punch.
Friend. The word was a slap to Damaris. Such hypocrisy.
The image of them paused as time stood still within the confines of his mind.
Damaris released his grasp on Samir, then stood up, hovering over his body. Rage consumed him. No, it possessed him.
With the King of York’s body frozen in time, Damaris kicked Samir’s statuesque body, smashing his boot into the man’s face. Samir didn’t move or budge, just remained as he was.
Glancing over at his wife, Damaris drank in her beauty. She was the most beautiful when she cried. So beautiful. And yet so deceitful.
“Why?” he roared at Elyathi. “The only person I have ever felt something for, and you go and do this! Why? All I wanted was for us to live forever! Why couldn’t you see that?”
Elyathi was so adamant about not using Emerald’s blood. Did she not see? They could live an extended life, ruling Arcadia for centuries. Arcadia would be the most powerful kingdom on Earth, using Emerald’s gift. His dreams had told him so.
Interesting… said a woman’s voice from within his mind.
“You again!” Damaris called out aimlessly, spinning around, trying to find the source of the voice. He looked in every direction and saw no one, only hearing his own voice reverberating through the chamber. “Let me have my mind back, whoever you are!”
That would be counterproductive, considering all the groundwork that I have paved for the prince.
“What?” Furious, Damaris clenched his fists, shaking with anger.
The prince will soon be the ruler of Arcadia.
“No! What do you think you are doing? After all the work I have done for you!”
Work?
“Yes! The cyborgs! The vision… You gave me the vision years ago.”
Vision? What vision?
“The one that I was to conquer the earth with my army! With the help of my daughter!” Frustrated, Damaris kicked a wall, his foot sinking into the drywall. He removed it, and a large hole was now in place where he had struck. Flakes of white dust covered his expensive shoe, and white powder fluttered about. “Now return me to my body! I still have much work to do.”
Then he heard a laugh echoing in the chambers. The walls shook at first, cracking where his boot hit the wall. As the laugh continued, the crack spidered up the wall, splitting the palace into massive pieces. Elyathi and Samir remained still and solid like stone, but the room shook violently as the ground tore apart, rolling them around on the ground like simple chess pieces.
I’m so sorry, my king. But I can’t let you return. You are a mere pawn in this game. Your daughter and her blood are mine; the army of cyborgs are mine. You can tell the High Court “checkmate” when they come calling again. Damaris heard a wicked laugh as the ground shook.
Damaris spun around again, trying to see what direction the voice was coming from. The ground split under him, causing him to stumble. The palace rumbled again, pulling itself apart. In the voided cracks, a deep-violet color flared, endless as space itself. There was another sudden violent earthquake, causing Elyathi and Samir’s bodies to roll into the void.
“Who are you?”
Me? I am the High Court’s worst nightmare.
“I demand you release me!” Damaris roared, plummeting to the floor. He looked underne
ath him, seeing the ground tearing itself apart once again.
In due time, my king. Don’t worry, we will have fun, I promise you that. But not without ensuring that Derek is Arcadia’s king first…
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GREEN
The sky had been overcast since morning, masking the city in a gray haze. The glowing advertisements, neon signs, and skyways all looked out of focus from the thick fog.
Emerald held her arms around Kyle’s waist firmly as the two of them rode through the city, making their way to Kyle’s next show. As much as the wind ripped around their bodies, it couldn’t blow away Kyle’s warm scent, which made her senses go wild.
All day Emerald had been out of sorts. She still hadn’t told him. Since their sexual excursion the previous night, Emerald’s gut felt heavy, like she’d swallowed a piece of iron that was slowly working its way through her digestive system. She had to tell Kyle who she really was, but she couldn’t find the opportune time to do so. The more she thought about it, the harder it became for her, like a giant obstacle she couldn’t overcome. It seemed so easy—all she had to do was utter a few words. But it was the aftermath she was most afraid of. What would Kyle even think of her being a royal? Somehow, Emerald imagined that it wouldn’t go over well with him.
They came upon the city’s northern sector, where the palace was located. As they drove through the streets, Emerald looked up at the palace looming between the skyscrapers. She had never realized how majestic the palace appeared compared to the neighboring buildings. It burned with intense green lights, casting a halo around the surrounding structures and skyways. The street level near the palace itself looked clean, bright, and enticing, the most it could ever look for the lower levels. Emerald noticed guards stationed on the outskirts of the palace blocks, along with many officers from Arcadia’s authorities. There were so many of them.
Ducking into Kyle’s studded jacket, she buried her face in his back, ensuring that she wouldn’t be seen or noticed by the guards or authorities. She didn’t have her green hair, but her wavy locks were still very noticeable, and it was possible the guards had been made aware that she was on the run with red hair. Knowing her father, he and his Inner Council had probably drilled poor Glacia extensively about any and all details the night she left. That would lead to them searching for her with red hair.