The Royals: Alexander and Clara: Volume One (The Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  Alexander pulled his hand from mine and with one smooth motion gathered me in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. I struggled to say something, to express my feelings. “I need this…I need us…”

  “I know what you need, Clara.” He brushed a soft kiss across my forehead before laying me across the bed. His hands swept my ruined shirt off my shoulders, then he removed my bra. I was spread before him—bare and vulnerable. Sensing that, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt slowly before stripping it off. We were both exposed now. Alexander carefully lowered himself over me, and I reached up to run my fingers across the wicked scars that marred his beautiful chest. He was built like a god, carved and chiseled to inhuman perfection, but the scars were visible proof that he was human. He was mortal. Alexander carried the deepest scars from the accident that claimed his sister’s life inside of him, but these marks reminded me that he had almost died that night, too. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I blinked in surprise.

  “It’s okay, poppet,” Alexander murmured. His lips dropped to the hollow between my breasts and moved outward until his tongue was circling my left nipple. He took it tenderly into his mouth, swirling and sucking the furl. Pleasure mixed with the emotions surging through me and I began to weep. Alexander moved in a flash, gathering me in his arms and cradling me to his chest.

  I pressed my hand against his scars, wishing I could will them away. “I almost lost you.”

  “You’ve never lost me,” he whispered, his arms tightening protectively.

  “No,” I said between sobs, “Then. That night. I never would have known—”

  “Shh,” he admonished me. “Let’s not talk about our mistakes.”

  But there were so many of them, and all too often it felt as though they’d been layered and piled on top of one another, erecting a giant barrier between us. I knew what it was like to lose him. The thought that I’d almost never had him was unbearable.

  “Show me,” I demanded in a low voice. Alexander couldn’t say he loved me, not after the night that gave him those scars. He demonstrated his feelings for me physically through a near obsessive and inexhaustible appetite for my body. It was a hunger I shared.

  His mouth closed over mine, one hand skimming down my hips and urging my legs apart. Deepening the kiss, his finger traced my slit before spreading me open. His tongue licked across my teeth as his thumb settled over the throb of my sex, massaging it with light, teasing circles. He swallowed my moans, unwilling to break the kiss. Rolling my hips against his hand, I dropped my legs open wider, desperate for him to fill me. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing heavily. Wildness blazed in his eyes, but he maintained his control. He usually employed that deliberate restraint on me, dominating every moment of my pleasure. Alexander decided when I would come and when I would hold on to the edge. But now he was holding himself at bay.

  Sitting back on his heels, he continued to rub my sensitive bud. My hands clutched the white linen sheets frantically clinging to the edge, unwilling to go over it without him. When I hung over the precipice, Alexander positioned himself at my entrance, rubbing his cock teasingly up and down as I squirmed with anticipation. “Clara, I…” he trailed away, his eyes growing sad.

  My breath caught in my throat, as though I was afraid I might spook him if I exhaled.

  “I…” But he shook his head. “There’s only you. There will only ever be you. You’re mine, but never forget, I am yours—as much as I can give of me, you can have of me.”

  His words pushed me over the brink. I unraveled as I fell, crying out when he pushed inside of me and sent a second orgasm rolling through my body. His cock stroked slowly in and out of my sex, prolonging my pleasure until I lay trembling on the bed, but he didn’t stop. His hands gripped my hips, coaxing me toward another. It was too much. Shivers broke across my skin, but I didn’t ask him to stop. I wanted him there forever. Filling me. Completing me. Although I couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping my lips.

  “Shh, poppet,” he soothed me, brushing his thumb across my lips. “I’ll never have enough of you.”

  That was why I couldn’t stay away from him. Leaving him had been a futile endeavor. What we had was primal, instinctive, consuming, and I craved it like oxygen. I couldn’t survive without it—without him.

  The thing about dating a modern sex god was that I always woke up hungry. This morning was no exception. I slipped quietly from bed, hoping not to wake Alexander. A search of the closet yielded a silky, red robe that looked suspiciously like it had been purchased for me along with a number of other clothing items. Apparently he’d been quite certain I would stay. Either I was easily convinced or he’d had more faith in our ability to work this out.

  My muscles were sore, my lady parts were sore, and my stomach was grumbling. That would teach me to sex on an empty stomach. Of course, I hadn’t come over here last night with the intention of sleeping with him. Thankfully, the kitchen was fully stocked with fresh organic fruit, eggs, and bread. I pulled a quart of milk from the fridge, nudging it shut with my ass, and nearly dropped it when I caught Alexander watching me from the doorway, wearing only black silk pajama bottoms. They hung off his hips, accentuating the brutally chiseled V I loved. I also loved how much more comfortable he was showing me his body now.

  He ran a hand through his tousled black hair and shook his head as if ridding himself of an unpleasant dream. Unfortunately, he had a lot of those.

  “You okay?” I asked, abandoning my pursuit of a frying pan. “Nightmare?”

  Alexander didn’t like talking about the dreams that terrorized him or the memories his subconscious viciously dragged to the surface at night, but I knew that ignoring them each morning wasn’t helping.

  “You were gone,” he said gruffly.

  Oh. I’d unwittingly forced him to relive another bad memory. One that was painful for both of us: the morning that I’d walked out on him. “I’m sorry, X. I was hungry.”

  A grin played at his lips as he prowled toward me. So much for breakfast before our reunion tour continued. “So I’m X again…or do you mean ex-boyfriend?”

  “Just X,” I said, stretching onto my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

  “That was…demure.” Alexander arched an eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to give you impure thoughts. I’m hungry.” I demonstrated the veracity of my claim by popping a grape in my mouth.

  “Then you shouldn’t wander around in this.” He fingered the delicate material of my robe.

  “If you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have bought it for me.”

  Alexander popped the lid of the glass jug of milk and took a sip, then offered it to me. “I didn’t. Norris stocked your closet.”

  I choked on my milk.

  Alexander laughed and wiped a stray dribble from my chin. “Now you’re really giving me ideas.”

  “Norris shopped for me?” I asked incredulously.

  “I asked him to. Edward helped.” He shrugged as if this was no big deal.

  “Of course he did. Do you do anything for yourself?”

  Taking the milk from me, he set it on the counter. Then he turned and circled me, pressing my ass against the granite counter. “There’s lots of things I do for myself, and a lot of things I do for you. You know that, poppet.”

  “Uh-uh, Your Majesty.” I wagged a finger at him. “You have to feed me if you’re going to have your way with me all day.”

  “Actually, it’s Saturday morning. I thought we could check out Portobello Road.” He opened the cabinet behind my head and took out a frying pan. “I’ll even make you breakfast.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Like a date?”

  “Don’t boyfriends do things like that?” he asked as he grabbed an egg from the carton.

  “You’re hardly a typical boyfriend,” I pointed out. “And are you actually cooking me breakfast?”

  Case in point: if Alexander was a typical guy, it might not be so shocking to watch him as he lit the burner on th
e hob.

  “It’s how I’m going to have my way with you,” he reminded me, cocking an eyebrow suggestively.

  “I thought we were going on a date.”

  “Breakfast. Countertop. Shower. Date,” he said.

  “Quite the schedule.” I didn’t bother to hide the amusement in my voice. “So I can’t shower now?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it.” He cracked another egg into the pan. “You’re going to need your strength today, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you lost more weight. Three eggs for you.”

  He spoke casually but there was an edge to his words that wasn’t welcome this morning. This morning I wanted to be happy. “I’ve been running more.”

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  I decided to let that slide. It wasn’t exactly news that he’d had a security team following me and even if I didn’t like it—and I didn’t—I wanted today to be about us and not all the drama. I swatted his ass as I sashayed by.

  “I’ll rearrange the schedule if you keep that up,” he warned me.

  Plopping onto a bar stool at the kitchen island, I feigned a swoon. “But I might starve!”

  “Food, it is,” he groaned. “You’re going to fit in with the Royals so well. You definitely have the dramatic streak.”

  I did my best to ignore the way my heart leapt at those words. It didn’t mean anything. Although I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted it to mean.

  I didn’t respond and we fell into a rhythm—laughing and teasing each other as he cooked and I offered pointers. But even as we ate breakfast together, anxious excitement swelled in my chest. It felt so normal. So happy. So everything Alexander and I had never had with one another. It felt too good to be true.

  But then again maybe we’d had enough lies.

  Chapter Eight

  I fingered the spines of a well-worn, but still beautiful, edition of Pride & Prejudice, while mentally running through each room in the house. Did we have bookshelves? Pulling it from the table of rare books, I realized we could always get bookshelves. I flipped the page and froze. We. I’d never explicitly agreed that I was moving in with Alexander, but here I was thinking about what we could do in the house.

  The vendor, scenting a sale, stepped next to me. “Very nice edition. Late nineteenth century. It’s a bargain at two hundred pounds, my lady.”

  I blushed and placed the book back on the table, shaking my head. “I was just admiring it.”

  The man nodded vigorously and began to pluck other books that might interest me from the piles. It wasn’t going to be easy to get out of here without buying something. Even as he piled another book into my hands, I couldn’t shake the strange mix of emotions still churning in the pit of my stomach. My eyes instinctively found Alexander as I murmured an absent thank-you to the stall owner. He was partially turned away from me, studying a book. Dressed in a fitted t-shirt and jeans that showcased his sculpted frame, it would be harder for most people to immediately recognize him. Although there was no way they could ignore him. His dark hair had dried into a wild mess after our shower. He hadn’t bothered to shave, leaving the slight scruff of next-day stubble across his jaw. Just thinking about how that would feel later on my thighs sent a thrill running through me from tip to toe. But it was the careful positioning of his body that reminded me of his possessive nature. One flick of his eyes and I would be back in his sight. A few steps and he would be at my side.

  I had to give him credit for giving me space, especially since it was obvious from his body language that he was in a state of vigilance. We’d spent very little time publicly together. Alexander spent very little time in public period. Even the clubs he frequented gave him access to private rooms.

  He glanced up and a slow smile spread over his face when he caught me looking at him. My heart sped up, sending blood roaring to my ears, and the world fell away, leaving only us. Alexander dazzled me. I knew then that there was no possibility of separation. Not for me. I’d tried and failed to walk away from him. I’d died each night I’d spent without him only to be reborn every morning to suffer the pain again.

  Alexander crossed to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he studied the book I held. “You should buy it for our place. The library is sadly understocked.”

  “We have a library?” I blurted out, simultaneously surprised at the information and overwhelmed to hear him say our place.

  “Remind me to give you a proper tour this evening.”

  There was no doubting the suggestive undertone to his words. “I have a feeling I’m going to like this tour.”

  “You will, poppet.” He planted a soft kiss behind my ear, sending a tingle of anticipation down my neck.

  Alexander was serious about stocking the library. We left the rare book booth twenty minutes later with an order for all of the man’s oldest and rarest volumes.

  “You’re in a generous mood,” I noted as we strolled along the busy street, stopping occasionally to inspect another strange artifact.

  “I am.” His grip on my hand tightened as we maneuvered through the crowds of shoppers. More than a few people stopped and stared at us, but whether it was because they were uncertain or because they respected our privacy, no one had taken any pictures yet.

  It was liberating. Thanks to Alexander’s lie last night, the world believed we were living together. I was beginning to believe it myself. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d had no faith he could ever provide me with commitment. Now I had little doubt whether we were both fully committed to this relationship. There was still a tiny voice tucked deep inside me that warned me to protect myself. The problem was that I had Alexander protecting me now, and more than ever, I wanted to give myself fully to him—body and soul.

  Stopping in a small shop with antique and rare fixtures, I pointed to a beautiful Tiffany reproduction lamp. “What about this for our place?”

  His answering smile nearly blinded me. “Anything you want, poppet.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head, “this is our place.”

  “I can’t describe what it’s like to hear you say that,” he admitted. He picked up the lamp and headed to the counter.

  “I bet it feels like winning,” I said dryly.

  He chuckled softly as he passed the lamp to the cashier.

  “£15,000,” she informed him.

  I gawked at her. After I recovered from the shock, I asked weakly, “This isn’t a reproduction?”

  “No, this is a Tiffany Studios lamp.” She turned it over and showed me the stamp. “Dated 1896. It’s a rare piece.”

  That I knew. Alexander handed her a thin, black credit card, seemingly unimpressed by the sum.

  “Let’s look for something else,” I suggested under my breath.

  “Nonsense.” He waved off my concern. “You liked this lamp.”

  I had, but paying £15,000 for something I was going to be afraid to touch seemed a trifle extravagant. Watching the shopkeep wrap it for us, I imagined what would happen if I accidentally dropped it. Thanks in part to Alexander’s nonchalant attitude regarding the piece, I knew that the only person who would be mad was me. When she handed me the carefully wrapped package, I immediately passed it to him.

  Despite growing up wealthy, I’d never really spent money. My mother had replenished my closet and decorated the numerous homes we lived in over the years. In college, my tuition was paid and there was always enough in the account for food or books or other expenses. I had access to my trust fund now, but little occasion to use it save to write the rent check or to purchase new work clothes. I had furniture and belongings and such, but I’d never really had a proper grown-up residence before. The flat I shared with Belle was full of bits of our lives collected up to this point. I’d meant to decorate, but life—or rather Alexander—had distracted me before I got around to it. But even if I had, I seriously doubted I would have spent £15,000 on one lamp.

  “You’re quiet,” Alexander pointed out as we left
the shop. He tucked the package under his arm, slinging the other arm over my shoulder possessively.

  “Thank you.” I motioned to the lamp. “It’s beautiful, but it feels a little extravagant, too.”

  “I wouldn’t have royal blood in my veins, if my tastes didn’t lend themselves to the lavish.” He paused and turned to face me. “For example, my prized possession.”

  “Does that mean you’ll take me to get falafel?” I bit my lip innocently.

  “Anything you want, poppet.” He tipped my chin up, studying my face for a moment before he kissed me. There was a time when I might have objected to being called his possession, but I understood what he meant now. I also knew that he belonged to me as much as I did to him. His lips lingered on mine, firm and hot, but the kiss didn’t step over the bounds of polite public displays of affection. He broke away leading me onward, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. I was vaguely aware of the bustle surrounding us, although I didn’t care. When I was with him, there was only him.

  My thigh bumped into a table and I was forced to look away. Swiveling around to find the vendor and apologize for my clumsiness, my world came crashing to a halt. I stood frozen to the spot as my eyes locked on the man standing in the street behind us.

  It was Daniel.

  Chapter Nine

  The numbness spread across my chest and up my neck as if I was going into shock. I wasn’t certain how we made it back to the house, but in the afternoon light, it looked like a haven. Yesterday I would have been afraid to walk up and knock on the front door. I had been afraid. Today I wanted to run inside and hide. Alexander had remained level-headed even when I’d suddenly stumbled and panicked in the middle of the street. He hadn’t asked questions. He’d acted out of instinct, bringing me here where he could protect me. But while he had guided me patiently through the maze of tourists and shoppers, the second we were through the gate, he scooped me up and carried me into the house.

  Setting me on the counter, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Alexander waited a moment while I drank it out.