Promoted To His Princess (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 1)

by Jackie Ashenden

  Something caught in her chest, and before she knew what she was doing, she was walking slowly towards him. He didn’t move, watching her approach, an answering heat flickering in his eyes.

  She stopped inches from him and lifted a hand to one of the long, slashing scars across his abdomen.

  His fingers closed hard around her wrist.

  Calista looked up in surprise.

  He wasn’t smiling now, the lazy seductiveness had vanished, leaving behind it something fierce she didn’t understand.

  He said nothing, only looked at her, his grip on her wrist almost painful.

  There was a tightness in her chest. He didn’t want her touching him, that was obvious. But she didn’t understand why, not when he hadn’t had a problem with it before. Was it the scars? Or something else?

  ‘What?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t seem to have a problem with me touching you the other night.’

  He was silent, a muscle leaping in his jaw. Then, very deliberately, he let go.

  Her heartbeat thumped hard behind her ribs. She shouldn’t push him, because she could see that for some reason this was painful. But she wanted to know why. And she had the sense that he wouldn’t give her any explanations, not if she didn’t push.

  So, carefully, keeping her gaze on his, she brushed her fingers over the faded white scar. His skin was damp and cool from the water, and he tensed, his eyes darkening into black.

  ‘Does it still hurt?’ Calista asked softly.

  ‘No.’ His voice was rough, the word bitten off.

  But something did, that was clear.

  ‘Is it from when you were captured?’

  ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Another time.’

  She frowned. ‘What time?’

  He said nothing and the only warning was a flare of gold deep in the darkness of his eyes. Then he pushed one hand into her loose hair, pulling her head back, and his mouth was on hers.

  The kiss was raw and it was hungry, and there was anger in it. No, he did not like her touching that scar.

  She thought about pulling away and insisting on an explanation, but then his teeth sank into her lower lip and all thought scattered and dissolved like smoke in the wind.

  The need she’d been fighting, the hunger she’d been trying to deny, flooded through her, sweeping away everything in its path. Her resistance, her armour, her control, all of it was gone.

  She’d put both hands to his chest before she was even aware of what she was doing.

  His grip in her hair tightened, the kiss deepening. His mouth was so hot and he tasted of freedom, of everything good and delicious she’d ever denied herself. It was a kiss that took, that conquered, that demanded her surrender, and she melted against his hard, wet body, giving it to him without even a thought.

  The moisture on his skin dampened the silk of her robe, making it stick to her body. Making her aware of how hot she was and how cool he felt. She was burning up, sweat breaking out all over her, and she needed him to put out the flames.

  Calista pressed herself against him, desperate, kissing him back hungrily, and he made a low, male sound of satisfaction. Then his powerful arms were around her and he was picking her up, carrying her over to one of the sun loungers near by and depositing her on one of the white cushions.

  He knelt between her thighs and there was a tug and the sound of tearing fabric as he ripped the silky underwear from her body. Then he pushed her legs wide, settling himself between them, stretching himself out on top of her. She gasped at the delicious coolness of his skin against the blinding heat of hers, her hands on his powerful shoulders then sliding down his back, holding on. His mouth claimed hers again as desperation tightened on both of them.

  He shifted his hips and she felt the long, hard length of him sliding against her, sliding inside her, ripping another moan from her throat. He stretched her, pushing in deep, his hands beneath her bottom, tilting her hips and opening her up to him.

  The pleasure was so sharp and raw she had to close her eyes against the sudden burn of tears.

  Oh, yes, this was it. This was what she wanted. Him inside her, setting her free from her control and her own expectations. From the limitations and boundaries she’d placed on herself. Him, setting her free of the soldier.

  He didn’t wait, drawing his hips back and thrusting, setting up the same intense, driving rhythm she remembered from their night weeks ago. But there was something different in it this time, an edge of ferocity, of desperation.

  Her nails sank into his back and she nipped at his bottom lip, giving herself up to the passion inside her, wanting more of his taste, more of that delicious coolness to ease the blinding heat. But he wasn’t cold any more, his body as hot as hers, maybe hotter, and there was nothing but flames everywhere.

  ‘Xerxes.’ His name escaped the kiss and she was hardly aware of even saying it. ‘Xerxes, please...’

  He shifted again, laying one hand against her throat in a gentle grip, kissing her harder, changing the angle of his thrusts, making lightning flash behind her eyes.

  She couldn’t bear it. The feel of his body on hers, of him moving inside her, the pressure of his fingers at her throat, the edges of his teeth against her sensitised lip, were all too much. And when he gave one deep, hard thrust, the pleasure exploded around her, and she screamed against his mouth, blinded, shattered. Overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy rolling through her.

  She was hardly aware as the brutal rhythm of his hips intensified, as his whole body suddenly stiffened. But she heard her name whispered like a prayer, low and deep and rough, as he followed her into the maelstrom.

  Xerxes lay on Calista’s warm body, half stunned by the orgasm that had descended on him with the finality of a building falling, crushing him completely.

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, was conscious only of her hands moving lightly up and down his back, stroking him, and the warmth of her skin beneath him, the sweetly musky scent of sex and woman surrounding him.

  He wasn’t quite sure what the hell had just happened to him.

  All afternoon he’d been unable to settle, the conversation he’d had with her on the terrace kicking up the dust of old memories, making him restless and unable to concentrate. His thoughts kept going around and around in circles, how she’d told him about her experience in the army, how she didn’t want to be seen as a woman. Then there were his own confessions and how, despite the years and his determination not to let it matter, it had been surprisingly difficult to tell her.

  And then, when the restlessness had become unbearable, he’d taken himself down to the pool to cool off. She’d appeared at the side, a golden vision of strength and beauty in the robe he’d brought for her. And instantly the restlessness had poured itself into a single, aching thought: he wanted her.

  A simple seduction, that was all he’d meant it to be. Slow and lazy lovemaking, where he’d call all the shots, he’d be the one making her scream.

  He hadn’t expected her to touch that scar on his stomach, the first knife cut in that room underneath the palace, where everything had been so horrifically real.

  He hadn’t expected, either, the rush of anguish that had come with the touch, or for his hand to reach out and grab her wrist to stop her. She’d looked at him in shock and he’d had to force himself to let her go, to find his usual detachment.

  But he couldn’t find it. And when she touched him again, he could think of only one way to distract her.

  He hadn’t meant that kiss to consume them, but it had, burning all his plans of long and lazy sex to ashes on the ground.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything but physical pleasure. But his chest felt tight, his nerve-endings raw, the detachment he usually cultivated hanging by a thread.

  She’ll break you if you let her.

  Well, that was on
e problem that was easy to solve. He simply wouldn’t let her.

  She could touch his body, but nothing else, nothing that would threaten the careful walls he’d constructed around his emotions, those deep flaws within himself.

  He’d tried hard to get rid of them after that day in the cell beneath the palace, when he’d discovered that the torture had only been a test of his endurance. But after his capture in the desert, after the decisions he’d made there, he realised that it was impossible. Those flaws would always be with him, and the only thing he could do was to wall them off. Pretend they didn’t exist.

  And that had worked until she’d appeared, waking him up, making him aware of how he’d been lying to himself, of how all the pretending he’d been doing hadn’t made those flaws go away. Of how deep they went, those cracks he’d never be rid of.

  He couldn’t allow her to do that. She’d got to him, but he couldn’t allow her to get any further.

  He shifted so the majority of his weight wasn’t lying directly on her, then pushed himself up so he could look down at her.

  Her golden skin had flushed deep pink, her riot of beautiful hair spread all over the white linen of the cushions beneath her head. Her amber eyes had deepened into that gorgeous dark copper, and her mouth was red and swollen from his kisses.

  She looked like a woman well-tumbled, no trace of the soldier remaining.

  Good. The soldier was far too sharp and direct for his liking. Right now, he preferred the soft, hot, passionate woman.

  He brushed back a lock of hair sticking to her forehead. ‘Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ Her sweet voice was slightly husky, her hands still moving on his back. She smiled, making his heart almost stand still in his chest. ‘Not at all.’

  No, he didn’t want this. Didn’t want her smiling at him. Didn’t want the maddeningly light brush of her fingertips. He wanted her nails scoring him, her teeth biting him, her legs around his hips, squeezing him, not this...gentle touching.

  ‘Good.’ He bent and kissed her mouth again before moving down, trailing kisses along her neck, tasting the hollow of her throat, her pulse leaping against his tongue.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Why did you stop me?’

  He didn’t need to ask her what she meant; he already knew. But he didn’t want to talk about it, so he nipped the side of her neck instead. ‘I think I should make it clear,’ he murmured, nipping her again, her breath catching as he did so, ‘if it wasn’t clear already, that our marriage will definitely not be in name only.’

  ‘Xerxes.’ She shivered, her hands coming to his chest.

  He nuzzled the side of her neck, just beneath her ear. ‘I like the way you say my name.’ Moving lower, he brushed his mouth over her sensitive collarbones. ‘Say it again.’

  Her hands pushed against his chest. ‘Xerxes. Stop.’

  Dammit.

  He lifted his head again, not bothering to hide his anger. ‘I don’t want to talk about this right now.’ Shifting on her, he fitted the growing hardness of his shaft against the soft, sweet heat between her thighs. ‘I have other things I want to do.’

  Her body shivered beneath his, but she didn’t look away.

  She was deceptive. He’d thought the woman wouldn’t be quite as confrontational as the soldier, but apparently that was not the case. ‘I tell you something, you tell me something,’ she murmured. ‘Wasn’t that what you said?’

  Yes, he had said that. Clearly, he’d been an idiot.

  ‘But I did tell you something.’ He ran a hand down her side, stroking her then lingering to cup one full, round breast. ‘Which means it’s your turn.’ His thumb brushed over her rapidly hardening nipple. ‘Or you could do something else instead.’ He circled the taut peak, teasing it. ‘I’m sure you’d find that infinitely more pleasurable.’

  She gave a little gasp as he pinched her gently, her eyelashes fluttering half-closed, her back arching into his hand. She was so responsive. He remembered that from their night together. Which was excellent, since it made her easy to distract.

  ‘When I was around twelve, my mother promised to take me out shopping for my birthday,’ she said huskily. ‘I loved her so much, loved spending time with her, and I was so looking forward to it. But when the day came, she told me she had a meeting she couldn’t change and we’d have to cancel it. I was so upset and angry. To this day I don’t know why I followed her, but I did. I got on my bike and followed her into the city.’

  Xerxes stopped touching her, the emotion in her voice making something inside him pause.

  ‘She didn’t go to her office building like I thought she would,’ Calista went on. ‘She went to a park instead and there was a man waiting for her by the fountain. The man took her in his arms and kissed her, and that’s when I knew it wasn’t a work meeting. She was meeting her lover.’ Calista’s eyes remained half shut. ‘I was so angry. So very, very angry. I went straight home and told my father. And he was angry, too. That night I heard them shouting in his office and so I crouched outside the door, trying to listen to what was going on. She’d been having an affair for a year, because she felt my father didn’t love her. And he...said that she was a faithless whore and that he never wanted to see her again. Mum burst out of the door, tears on her face. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me when she found me outside.’ Her voice thickened. ‘I loved her so much, and I wanted to be her when I grew up. But the absolute loathing in her eyes in that moment... She shouted at me that it was my fault, that I’d ruined her life, and then she walked away.’ Calista’s eyes opened suddenly, looking up into his. ‘I never saw her again.’

  Her gaze was dark with old pain and he was seized by the sudden need to kiss her lovely mouth, stroke her silky skin, make her feel better.

  ‘Dad told me that it wasn’t my fault,’ she went on. ‘That I’d been right to tell him what I saw. That I would never disappoint him like she had. That I was loyal. But sometimes I wonder if I really did do the right thing. Sometimes...’ She swallowed. ‘Sometimes I can’t help feeling like... I betrayed her.’

  The note of anguish in her voice made his chest constrict, and all he could think about was that of course she would think she’d betrayed her mother. Given the strength of her commitment to her country, she was deeply loyal and felt things very intensely. Both were valuable, admirable traits, but also a double-edged sword; it was clear her mother’s abandonment had hurt her terribly.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand, the way he’d done the night they’d spent together, giving her some gentleness. ‘You didn’t ruin anything,’ he said. ‘If your mother was having an affair, then it was already ruined. It would only have been a matter of time before it all fell apart.’

  Calista’s throat moved as she swallowed. ‘I shouldn’t have got so angry about that stupid shopping trip. I shouldn’t have told Dad. I should have talked to her or something. But I didn’t. All I could think about was that she’d ruined Dad’s life, and she’d ruined mine, and that I wanted to ruin hers back.’

  His own mother had died very young; he barely remembered her. But he knew what it was to feel anger at a beloved parent. To feel betrayed by them. To feel abandoned.

  He brushed his thumb over her mouth then bent and kissed her, soft and sweet. ‘You were twelve,’ he murmured. ‘Of course you would feel that way. And she shouldn’t have been angry with you. She was the one who had the affair. It was her issue, not yours.’

  Calista’s eyes were very dark. ‘I wanted to ruin her, Xerxes. So I did.’

  ‘You loved her and she hurt you. It’s not wrong to feel angry. And all you did was hasten something that would have happened anyway.’

  ‘But she walked away. I never saw her again.’

  Anger twisted inside him, a hot, irrational anger at her mother for hurting her so badly. ‘Then she was a fool,’ he said fiercely, lo
oking down into her eyes. ‘It wasn’t your fault she turned her back on you. That was her decision. And it was the wrong one. She should have been there for you no matter what you’d done because that’s what being a parent is all about.’

  ‘But maybe if I hadn’t been so angry, if I hadn’t let my emotions get the better of me... Maybe if I hadn’t been so weak—’

  ‘You weren’t weak,’ he interrupted flatly, so there could be no doubt. ‘She was the weak one to turn her back on her child. Not you.’

  She didn’t speak for a long moment, only looking up at him, the currents ebbing and flowing in her gaze. Then she said, ‘I’ve told you something. Now it’s your turn.’

  But he didn’t want to do that, to have her painful past get lost in the mire of his, so he only shook his head and kissed her again, slow and sweet.

  She’d given him a gift and he wanted to mark it.

  ‘Xerxes, stop,’ she murmured against his lips, but without any real conviction.

  ‘Let me, Callie,’ he whispered. ‘Let me make it better.’

  And when she sighed, her hands against his chest starting to caress, he kissed her deeper, tasting that fire, the hot passion she tried to hide beneath the mask of the impassive guard.

  Well, he didn’t want her hiding it. He didn’t want her locking it down or thinking it was a weakness. He wanted her passionate. He wanted her wild. He wanted her burning for him.

  He resumed his trail of kisses, down her neck and further down, finding her breast then flicking his tongue across one hard nipple. Then he took the tip into his mouth, sucking on her gently at first, then harder, making her cry out.

  He tormented the taut peak, teasing it with his tongue and then the edges of his teeth, before turning his attention to her other breast.

  She shuddered, twisting beneath him, panting, her body lithe and strong and so achingly beautiful. Her skin was flushed with pleasure, her eyes closed, her mouth open. She looked thoroughly and completely seduced.

  He kissed his way down her flat stomach, spreading her thighs, finding his way to the soft nest of curls between them. She was all slick and wet and hot, her hips shifting restlessly, wanting more, so he gave it to her, laying his mouth on her. She cried out, her body jerking, and when he parted her slippery flesh with his fingers and began to explore her in earnest, she sobbed.