The Wicked Prince

by Wood, Vivian

  I think that warrants a more thorough search of your background. After all, you are cozying up to the crown prince… What do you think I will find?

  My face heats. I block the unknown number, furious.

  How dare Anna imply that I’m out to seduce Stellan for financial reasons? The whole idea is so wrong that it takes every ounce of willpower not to throw a tantrum right here and now.

  For all the good that would do…

  Stellan emerges from the shop, each hand holding a little white pastry bag. He hands one to me and continues his walk down to the shore.

  “Umm…” The bag is warm in my hands. I get a whiff of vanilla and sweet baked bread. “Thanks?”

  I hurry to follow him, peeling away the pastry bag to reveal a sort of creamy yellow custard overflowing it’s donut container. He takes a bite and moans.

  “It’s so good.” He chews for a moment. “They are called skolebrød and they are the best thing to come out of Norway, period.”

  I take a small bite, managing to get custard and powdered sugar absolutely everywhere. It’s yeasty and sugary, custardy but light. My eyes light up. “Oh, that is good.”

  He smirks at me. “Don’t say I never bought you anything.”

  And with that comment he starts walking faster, leaving me and my short legs woefully behind. I smile ruefully at his comment, then savor another bite of the pastry.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Stellan

  “You actually managed to make this on your own?” Margot asks. I can’t tell if she’s teasing or not, but I did make this popcorn on the stove with no assistance.

  I roll my eyes and hand her the huge bowl, plopping myself on the couch beside her. “I can make popcorn,” I say, a little defensive. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

  Her lips curl up at the corners. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  She takes a few pieces and puts them in her mouth, chewing. Then she nods. “Someone exceedingly smart made this. I can tell.”

  I make a face and reach for some of the popcorn. “What kind of wine do you think goes with popcorn? A chardonnay, maybe?”

  Margot pulls a face. “Maybe, I’m not much of a wine drinker.”

  Settling back on the couch, I give her a measuring look. “You’re missing out.”

  She grins. “Really? I don’t feel like I am. I feel like I’m just fine over here, with my beer sipping and whiskey guzzling. It turns out, you don’t need money to have a pretty good time.”

  That’s the tenth time that she’s brought up money since she got here. I wonder if she realizes that she wears her apparent poverty like a nationalist drapes himself in his flag. It’s all she seems to want people to see when they look at her. It’s almost like a suit of armor that she puts on.

  Doesn’t that protective shield grow heavy sometimes?

  I watch her rummage around in a box of board games. “Hey, do you want to play cards or something?”

  My lips twitch. “Not a chance.”

  Margot sighs, setting the box aside and munching on popcorn. She slides her gaze to me, smirking. “Okay. What do you want to do? Play twenty questions? Or let’s go even more mature… truth or dare?”

  My brow creases. “What is that?”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s a game that teenagers play. I ask you to choose between answering a question truthfully, or doing something crazy that I ask of you. It’s stupid, really.”

  Repositioning myself in a more comfortable spot, I shrug my shoulders. “It doesn’t sound stupid. Let’s play.”

  “Oh god. No,” she says, shaking her head.

  I cover her hand with mine, pinning her with my gaze. Her cheeks turn pink, reinforcing the idea in my mind.

  I know exactly what I’m doing. Playing with Margot’s feelings, pursuing her even though I know it will end up with us being in a mess.

  I’m just so tired of doing what is right, what is beneficial in the long term. I don’t want to make every single choice based on the specter of the future.

  So I tease her a little. “Ja, we can play. Can I go first?”

  She glances at me, then ducks her head. “If that makes you happy.”

  I grin at her. “Truth or dare, Margot?”

  Her cheeks turn from pink to red. “Umm… truth, I guess.”

  Leaning forward, I snag the popcorn bowl from her and launch a few kernels into my mouth. “I was hoping that you would choose dare,” I admit. “I was going to ask you to strip.”

  She pins me with a probing stare. “Too bad.”

  There is a hint of humor around her mouth, though. I squint at her, formulating my question. Mostly I’m trying to decide if I should start with something easy, or ask her something hard. I puff out my cheeks.

  “Stellan, ask already!” she protests.

  I tilt my head. “Ja, ja. Okay. When is your birthday?”

  Her eyebrows rise. “October 20th. I’m a libra.”

  I nod. “That makes sense. Mine is April 28th.”

  Her lips curve upward. “That makes you… what, a Taurus? God, never in my life have I met someone who fits that bullish description so perfectly.”

  “I choose to take that as a compliment.” I grin.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’ve got a question. What do you like to do for fun in your downtime?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “This is my downtime. What little I get of it, anyway.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Oh.”

  “Okay, now it’s your turn, right?” When she nods, I squint at her.

  Her eyes almost close for a second. “I’ll go with truth. I don’t want to strip down to my underwear or call the royal palace with a fake accent and demand to speak with the prime minister.”

  My eyebrows go up. “What?”

  She blushes. “That’s the kind of stupid stuff that you get dared to do in this game.”

  “Ah!” I chuckle. “Noted. You chose truth though, so…” I pause, thinking for a second. “In your childhood, what do you think was the most memorable experience? No, not memorable…” I struggle to translate the word. Gribende is what I keep thinking, but language limits me. “What could you draw a line to from the person you are now and say, that is why I am who I am?”

  She gives me a funny look. “I thought for sure you were going to ask me something about sex.”

  I smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

  She wrinkles up her face. “I see that. Umm… I have no idea, really. I just… I’ll say that I do remember being maybe seven or eight years old. My mom was on a bender, she was… just off, wherever. And I was supposed to do this project at school that required me to look stuff up. So after school, I went to the public library to use their computers. And I couldn’t quite figure out how to use it. You know, the New York public libraries don’t exactly get funding for the latest software.”

  “No?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “No. Anyway, when I eventually found my way to the New York Times site… I was totally blown away. Just riveted! I remember thinking that I couldn’t believe that people were telling other people the news. It just… it really gave me that sort of… light bulb moment, where something lit up inside of me. I spent like three hours reading every single word I could, until one of the librarians shooed me off the computer.”

  I tilt my head to the side, taking in her slow smile and hand gestures as she tells the story. “Let me guess. That was the moment when you decided that you wanted to be a journalist?”

  Two pink spots appear in her cheeks. “Yeah, something like that. Although I’m not actually as much of a journalist as I am a photographer.”

  I nod a little bit. “So you’ve said. Where is your camera now?”

  Margot grins sheepishly. “In my tote bag, less than thirty feet away.”

  “You’ll have to show me some of your photos sometime.”

  Her flush intensifies, creeping down her neck. She looks away. “Maybe some time.” She clears her throat and shakes her h
ead. “But not now. We’re in the middle of a game, aren’t we?”

  I nod my head slowly, enjoying the nearness of her. What would it take to get her in my lap, I wonder? My head cocks to the side as I picture that particular image.

  She looks at me, her lips twitching. “I have a good question. If there was no such thing as money, and you could do anything you wanted, what would you devote your life to?”

  “Wait. You didn’t ask me whether I prefer to tell the truth or perform a dare.”

  Her eyes roll. “All right. Truth or dare, I guess.”

  Eyeing Margot, I bite my lip. Then I move closer to her until my thigh touches hers. She looks down at the spot where our bodies meet, making some kind of calculations.

  I wish I could read her mind, just for a moment.

  “Truth,” I say.

  Her gaze flicks up to my face. She licks her lips. “I already asked you my question.”

  I sprawl out on the couch, laying both of my arms on the back. I’m already close enough to Margot that I could put my arm around her with ease; if I moved my right arm another half inch, I would be hugging her. I can feel the heat from her body against my skin.

  Her eyes grow large. Her pupils dilate just a little.

  I’m careful not to move again. After the last week of almost kissing her, of almost seducing her, I’m okay with just teasing her for a bit. It’s impossible not to smirk as I answer her question.

  I lean my head back, forcing myself to focus. “Hmm. If money were no object?”

  She nods, leaning back. Her head rests against my arm and she doesn’t jerk away.

  I bite my lip, giving her another smirk. She looks at me, only a few inches away. We are so close that I can see a few faint freckles on her nose, can make out her the dark shadow of her lashes against her skimmed cream cheeks.

  “I was trained as a pilot when I was in the Navy,” I tell her. “I did two years there, and I have to say, I quite liked it. I enjoyed being up in the air, in charge of everything that I saw. Everything else… when the ground fell away from the plane, so did everything else.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Do you think you could ever be happy living like that? I mean… not living as a royal.”

  I shrug, resting my head back and looking up at the ceiling again. “Who’s to say? I don’t plan on finding out.” I suck in a deep breath. “I’m a member of the royal family, Margot. I owe certain things to my country. And one of them is my life…” I shake my head just a little. “I will always be a prince, first and foremost. I will always have my obligations. It’s just… it’s part of the whole package, for better or worse.”

  When she speaks, her voice is a mere whisper. “I know, Stellan.”

  I roll my head to the side, flashing her a half-hearted smile. “God, my grandmother would love to know that those words just came out of my mouth. She’s always on my back about how I owe the country this and that… My honor and… whatever else.” I exhale. “It’s hard not to want to be different, though. It’s really damned hard.”

  I look right in Margot’s eyes as I say the last line.

  The grate of her voice stirs me. “There are… there are rules you have to abide by. Right? Rules you can never, ever think about breaking?”

  My throat works as I swallow my sudden burst of anger. Anger at the fact that I’m royal, anger at what is expected of me. “Yes.” I reach out to cup her face, my fingers trailing over her jawline. That contact is electric, charging the air, lighting me up inside. “My life is not my own. I can’t live however I want. In many ways, I have less freedom than anyone else.” I suck in another breath, my gaze dipping down to her mouth. “The crown comes before all else. Especially my own wishes.”

  She leans in, pressing her lips ever so lightly over mine. I close my eyes, struggling not to give in. I want to kiss her back so badly that my hands are shaking.

  But I know where that leads. That’s the exact way that we ended up in this mess, isn’t it?

  Margot’s hand comes up to sink into my hair. She kisses me again, her lips soft and warm. She shifts her body to touch mine; her breasts brush up against my chest, her free hand grazes my knee.

  When she kisses me a third time, the touch of her lips and against mine so light and gentle that it’s almost painful not to respond. I finally give in.

  I kiss her back, my hand slipping from her jaw and knotting in her hair. Angling her head just so, I tease her lips with the tip of my tongue. She opens her mouth and I sweep my tongue against hers, moaning at the sweet taste. Cinnamon, mint, and a sultry hint of something deeper.

  A sweet, feminine musk. I’ve been dreaming of that flavor; I know that I can taste more of it if I spread her thighs and feast on her damp pussy.

  God, if only.

  I pull away from her lips, gasping for breath. Bowing my head, I close my eyes and struggle to pull air into my lungs.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  Margot doesn’t say anything. She just leans her forehead against mine for a long moment. Then she kisses my cheek, the gesture perfectly chaste.

  I open my eyes in time to see her stand up. I meet her deep blue eyes, which are so full of sorrow that it’s almost heartbreaking to see.

  “I’m sorry, Stellan,” she says. She looks away and pulls at the hem of her skirt.

  I stand up, straightening to my full height. That only makes the air between us crackle with some strange electricity, but I just frown. “I meant it when I said the crown comes before everything else. It comes before me. It comes before you.” I shrug, feeling a sense of helplessness. “And whatever this is? This… desire? It comes before that, too.”

  She tosses her hair, her mouth curving into a frown to match my own. “I know.”

  I pause, drinking the sight of her in. Then I turn toward my bedroom, seeking solitude. “Goodnight, Margot.”

  If she says anything else, I don’t hear it before I’m out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Margot

  When I get up the next morning, the late morning sun pours in through the window. Lying in bed, I think about last night. The memory of the way that Stellan looked at me, so soulful and direct, even as he told me why we shouldn’t kiss… It warms me in my bed, makes my whole body tighten and flash hot.

  It’s funny… I think the mere illicitness of the relationship makes Stellan more desirable. I want what has been explicitly forbidden to me… the specter of what a kiss could turn into makes my desire twice as intense.

  Groaning into my pillows, I know that it really doesn’t matter what I want. Isn’t that the point Stellan was trying to make?

  I get up and go to the kitchen, looking around for him. He’s nowhere to be found. So I just spend a couple of hours getting dressed and feeding myself a toasted bagel. I start a jigsaw puzzle on the floor of the living room.

  That’s where Stellan finds me when he comes in from his run. I look up at him as he enters the room and my eyes widen. He’s wearing a t-shirt and running shorts, and his whole body is damp with sweat. He pulls out his earbuds, still out of breath.

  “Haj,” he says.

  “Hey.” I put my arms behind me and size him up. “Are we in a fight?”

  He looks a little surprised. “I don’t think so.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “Do you want to go for a walk? There’s a waterfall that’s only about two miles from here. I’d like to go see it, spend a little more time communing with nature before I have to return to civilization tomorrow.”

  My lips lift in the ghost of a smile. “Sure.”

  “Great. Let me get changed. We’ll leave in five minutes, ja?”

  I nod, putting the pieces of the puzzle back in the box. I toss my black leather jacket on over my dark jeans and black tank top. By the time I get my Converse on my feet, Stellan is rearing to go.

  “You ready?” he asks. He seems… distracted.

  “Yep.” I follow him
outside, zipping up my jacket against the cold.

  I take a second to give him a once over. He’s wearing dark jeans, an off-white Henley shirt, and a cobalt blue jacket. He’s also nearly vibrating with a restless kind of energy that keeps his eyes on the horizon. They rove around the countryside as we stroll, looking everywhere but where I’m at.

  Ah, that’s it. He’s trying not to look at me. I suppose I should do the same, then.

  I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket, looking around me. We walk up the steep cobblestone road, emerging onto a road outside of the village pretty quickly. On either side of the road is the greenest pasture land, contrasting with the seemingly endless skies, a fat swath of white just barely tinged with blue.

  We start veering left; in the distance I can see the shore of the land looming near. As we walk, the road only grows steeper. We don’t have to talk; we each struggle to draw in breath as we continue to climb. I can’t help but sneak looks at Stellan.

  Two spots of red ride high in his cheeks. His dark hair ruffles in a gust of wind. He’s handsome and brooding and everything I never thought I would want.

  Stellan eventually notices me looking at him.

  “It’s not much farther,” he says gruffly. “I promise.”

  I merely shrug, stuffing a quip about how he always keeps his promises deep down inside myself. He turns out to be right, though. As he leads me up a little hill, I can hear the water rushing. It gets louder with every step I take, though I can’t see the source of it at all.

  We are getting closer and closer to where the land drops off dramatically, ending on a cliff that overlooks the dark blue, restless sea. Close enough that I can feel the salt spray in the air, feel the rush of the air whipping around my face. By the time I see the waterfall, I’m right on top of it.

  Right on the edge of the cliff.

  I lean over to look at the waterfall as it spits torrents down the craggy cliff face to fall into the ocean. Stellan pulls me back, his hand gripping my upper arm. “Careful.”