Royally Crushed: A Crazy Royal Love, Book 1

by Summers, Melanie

  He stops talking for a second but keeps grinning. What the hell is he grinning about? None of the things he just said sound remotely positive. I glare openly while he continues.

  “Venturing out here without a good knowledge of the area is going to get you killed, because even though you’re surrounded by food sources and fresh water, if you don't know where to find them, you'll likely succumb to poisoning. That is, if you don’t starve to death first. These forests are so dense and the terrain so difficult, it would take a search and rescue team several months to find your body.”

  Tears spring to my eyes and I quickly look out the side of the helicopter which only causes my stomach to lurch. It’ll be okay. Just don’t listen to him, Arabella. He's only saying those things to add to the drama.

  “We’re about to rappel down into the canopy of the jungle to start our trek all the way to Mbambole. This is where we have to have an incredible amount of trust in our helicopter pilot because one wrong move by him, and Princess Arabella and I will fall to our deaths or be impaled by one of the thousands of tree branches below. Lucky for us, Idriss is one of the best in the world.”

  Will casually leans his upper body out of the helicopter, searching for a spot to stop. I have a sudden urge to grab him and pull him back in, but I don’t. After a few minutes, he shouts, “This looks good here! There’s an opening in the trees directly below us!”

  Does it? Does it really look good?

  Idriss gives him the thumbs up.

  I guess it does.

  “All right, Your Highness, are you ready to do this?”

  I try to nod, but my head shakes a solid no, instead.

  “I thought as much,” he says with a look of understanding that I’m positive is totally phony. “It's okay. It's pretty cool that you even got this far. Very few people on the planet have ever seen any of this.”

  He smiles in a way that is both kind and condescending at the same time.

  There's something about it that ignites a fire in my belly. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I stayed in the helicopter?”

  “To be honest, yes. Then I wouldn't have you to worry about the entire time,” he says. “Think about it—by tonight you could be at home on your thousand-thread-count sheets.”

  “They’re two thousand, actually, and they’ll be waiting for me in ten days. Now how do we do this?”

  He gives me an exasperated look, then stands up and turns his back to the open side of the helicopter. “Stand here,” he says. “Grip this bar. Step back onto this skid. Then step off slowly and you'll start to slide down.”

  “See you out there. Or not,” he says, stepping back and dropping out of sight.

  I stand, my entire body feeling wobbly as I reach up and grab hold of the bar next to the door. Okay, Arabella. You can do this. It's just an easy step back. You are not going to die.

  Yes, you are, you fool. Get back in your seat, where you belong!

  I grip the bar so hard, the skin of my palms is being pinched, but I don’t dare let go now that I’m here. The wind whips me and the sound of the blades so close to my head makes me feel dizzy and disoriented. I’m now too scared to step back and too scared to let go so I can reach for my seat. I close my eyes, forcing the tears of fear back inside, my breath shaky.

  “Will’s already disconnected. You’ve got to go, Your Highness!” Idriss says. “I can’t hover so close to these trees much longer.”

  Right. I need to hurry. But I don’t want to hurry because I’m not in any rush to die! Was my life really so bad? Being served every meal and helping charities every day? It wasn’t. I don’t need to do this. I can’t.

  “You've got this, Your Highness!” Dylan shouts. “For all women everywhere!”

  Yes. Equal Everywhere. I have to do this.

  I reach behind me with my right foot, tapping with my toes until I feel the skid.

  “It's easier if you do this with your eyes open,” Mac shouts at me.

  “No, thank you. I'm good like this,” I yell back, forcing my foot to land firmly on the skid. Okay, that's one. Now do the other one. Just do it. For all women everywhere.

  “I want to see you be brave,” Dylan screams.

  “Yes, I brave,” I say. I don’t think that made sense. I can’t let that be my last words.

  “You need to make a decision, Your Highness,” Idriss calls.

  “All right!” I snap. “I’m going.”

  My hands are starting to cramp up, but I force my left foot down, then without thinking, I take a deep breath and shift my weight behind me, letting my feet slide off the skid.

  And now I’m slowly being lowered to the ground.

  And swearing like a sailor the entire way down.

  I guess, “Shiiittttttttt-fuckballs-son-of-a-bitch-ffffffffuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkk!” will be my last words.

  Good thing it’s all going to be captured on film for prosperity.

  12

  Don’t Lick the Yellow Ones

  Will

  Well, bugger, she is actually doing it. I stand, my eyes fixed on her as she drops toward me. I’m seriously torn between being incredibly impressed, super irritated, and wanting to bust out laughing because of the string of fucks and shit fucks and mother fucking fuckers pouring out of her mouth.

  I remove my harness, then let go so it can be pulled back up to the helicopter, all the while keeping my eyes on her as she descends.

  “FUUUCCKKKKKKKKKKKING HELLL!” she shouts, clearly not realizing she’s almost on the ground.

  I reach up and grab her by the waist, then gently lower her. “Welcome to the jungle. I'm going to unhook you now.”

  She nods slightly, her chest heaving, her face pink. If she weren’t so annoying, I’d say she’s cute right now.

  “I did it,” she whispers. “I didn’t die.”

  She lifts her arms so I can unhook her, and I get started, trying not to think about the lovely figure under her baggy clothes.

  “I did it,” she says again, this time louder and with a shocked expression.

  “You sure did.” Crouching, I tug the harness down to her feet.

  She steps out of it and I hold it up for Mac, who gives me a salute, then starts pulling up the rope.

  When I stand, Arabella grins at me. “I did it,” she says again.

  Chuckling, I say, “I know. I saw you. And I heard you.”

  She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me. Mmm … this feels way too nice.

  Suddenly seeming to remember herself, she pulls back. “Sorry. I'm just so amazed. I actually stepped off of a helicopter that was really high in the air. I did not think I was going to do that, but I did. I rappelled. And not just off a little wall at a rock-climbing gym. Off an aircraft. In the air. Above the jungle.” Shaking her head, she smiles. “I didn’t think I had that in me.”

  Neither did I. “And I didn’t think you had such a foul mouth. We’ll have to bleep the audio of your entire descent.”

  She gives me a sheepish look. “My deepest apologies. Apparently, I swear like a sailor when I engage in death-defying activities.”

  “Well, try to curb your language a little if you can because we’re going for a prime-time slot.”

  The sound of the helicopter fades, and it hits me that we’re actually doing this. We’re out here all alone with only the sounds of the birds, the rustling of the gentle breeze through the leaves, and the thick heat.

  Arabella looks around, as though just noticing where she is for the first time. She slowly turns, her mouth hanging down while she gazes up and takes in the surroundings. “This is magnificent! Have you ever seen anything so lush and wild and free in your entire life?”

  Looking back up at me, she blushes. “Of course you have. You’ve been here.”

  I can’t help but smile, finding her unbridled enthusiasm contagious. “It's incredible, isn't it? There are so few places on the planet untouched by man, and you, Your Highness, are one of a handful of people throughout history who
will ever see any of this in person.”

  She turns to me and smiles, her lovely face lit up with exhilaration. The sight of it makes my heart skip, then quickly reminds me, I'm responsible for getting this beautiful-but-clueless woman out of here alive.

  My gut hardens at the thought, and my smile fades. “We better get moving. I want to make it to the river before it gets dark.”

  “Is that where the camp is?” she asks, as we start to walk.

  “The camp is wherever we make it.”

  “Oh,” she says, her tone quiet.

  “You didn’t think there’d be accommodations out here, did you?”

  “No, of course not,” she answers quickly, avoiding my gaze which means she absolutely one hundred percent thought we were about to take a stroll to some luxury lodge.

  “When you signed up for this, what exactly did they tell you about the show?”

  “I’m afraid Ms. Sinclair was rather vague about the details, but I gather from the rules she outlined earlier that it’s just us, whatever we’ve got on us, and whatever we can make.”

  “And what can you make?”

  “Whatever you teach me,” she says with more than a hint of defiance. “I know you don’t want me out here, but I promise I’m a quick learner.”

  “Yeah, this ain’t Girl Scout camp, Your Highness, and we’re under a deadline that I intend to beat. I don’t have time to teach you anything. All you need to know is to stick close by and follow instructions. I’ll do the rest.”

  A flash of anger crosses her face. “So much for teamwork.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight—I never wanted to be part of a team. I work better alone. Now, I’m not trying to be an arse. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  She looks down at the forest floor and shakes her head. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that—”

  “—You’d be ridiculously wealthy and never need to work a day in your life?”

  Arabella’s face turns pink, and her eyes fill with shame. “I suppose that is what you would see.”

  I start to apologize, but she holds up one hand. “Don’t bother. It’s best if I know from the start what you think of me.” Lifting her chin, she says, “I thought we were in a big hurry?”

  “Right, we are.” I nod. “We’ve got about five hours of daylight, which may sound like a lot, but we’ve got a lot to do in that time.” I take off my backpack and set it on the ground. “First, we should have a look at our supplies so we know what we’ve got and what we’ll need to pick up along the way.”

  We both unpack our bags, then stand, surveying the contents. I attach a selfie stick to my GoPro and turn it toward me. “So, Princess Arabella and I have been dropped into the middle of the Zamundan Congo with supplies that have been chosen for us by the network. While they did a pretty good job of choosing items, there are a couple of things we don’t need and a few that we’ll definitely miss.”

  I crouch and aim the camera at our supplies. “Believe it or not, this small pack contains a tent, which in my book is a luxury item that I normally wouldn’t bring, but because I think my companion will want it, it comes with us. Toothbrushes and toothpaste—you can survive without, but who would want to? I see they’ve packed a makeup kit in Princess Arabella’s bag. Totally useless, so it stays here.”

  I pause for a moment, assuming she’ll protest, but she doesn’t.

  “We’ve got two emergency blankets made by Wellbits. These guys are super handy, weighing in at less than an ounce. They double as rain ponchos, which, as you might imagine, will be extremely helpful in a rainforest. We’ve also got our map—again, a nice-to-have item, but because I’m out here with a survival novice, I’m not taking any chances. I’m bringing it.”

  I point to a metal pot. “Another luxury. If you find yourself stuck in the wild, you can make one out of any number of things found in the forest. Looks like we’ve also got two head lamps and a super-charged solar power plant.”

  “Say, that’s made by Bear Grylls!” Princess Arabella adds.

  I stiffen slightly. “I doubt very much that he had any part in the design or manufacturing. It’s more likely he just slapped his name on it. Anyway, we’ve got biodegradable soap shavings in this plastic container, two Ziploc bags which we can definitely use for collecting herbs and sap along the way, four backup batteries for the GoPros, and a machete, which is a must out here. Also, we’ve got his and hers Swiss army knives with nail clippers and tweezers in case you get a hangnail,” I say with a wink in Arabella’s direction. Oh, she did not like that. “It also comes with scissors, a corkscrew, which we won’t need—”

  “—Too bad,” she interjects. “I, for one, could use a bottle of wine right now.”

  “Same here, except make it a case.” I pick up a small rectangular canvas bag and slide the contents out into my hand. “You’ve probably seen one of these before, yes? Maybe in the throne room, or your private library.”

  She says nothing but gives me a look meant to show me she’s above pettiness. Huh, that actually worked. I feel bad. I clear my throat. “This is called a Muncher. It's one of the greatest multi-tools ever invented. This end here is called a spork—it’s both a spoon and a fork —

  “—I know what a spork is.”

  “Of course. I’m sure you use them at all your state dinners, don’t you?” Dammit, Will. Stop being a prick.

  “I've seen them on the telly,” she says.

  “Great. Out here in the wild, it’s for every course from soup to nuts.” I point to the opposite end of the tool. “You’ll notice the tip of the serrated knife is flat, so it can be used as a screwdriver. This is a flint which we’ll definitely need—”

  “—You will. I won’t,” she says.

  I look up, thoroughly confused as she digs into her shirt. She produces a lighter and spins it in between her forefinger and thumb. “Knicked it off the helicopter pilot.”

  My mouth hangs open, and I find myself speechless.

  She smiles shyly. “I don’t normally do things like that, but Dylan did say to be resourceful. Plus, smoking kills so I can justify it.”

  I fight the surprised laughter inside, reminding myself I don’t want her here. Continuing on, I look back at the Muncher. “Potato peeler, can opener, which we won’t be using this trip. And finally, this hook here is perfect for cutting cords. We’ll use it to cut one of nature’s most useful inventions—the vine.”

  I pick up the empty green backpack that has the word “Bearz” emblazoned across it. “Huh, this is a lot heavier than it needs to be. I’m surprised he’d put his name on these.”

  Arabella lifts hers, as though testing its weight, although I don’t think she has anything to compare it to. “Doesn’t feel bad to me,” she says with a satisfied smile.

  “Well, that’s because you’ve never used a proper backpack,” I mutter. Turning the camera on myself, I say, “Okay, we’re going to get everything packed up and hit the trail. Princess Pickpocket and I have a long trek ahead.”

  * * *

  Once we start walking, I hold up the selfie stick. “We’re going to head east for the next several days until we reach the town of Mbambole. Now is the best time for me to remind my companion not to touch anything, and I mean anything, without asking me first. These plants may be beautiful, but many of them are deadly.”

  I walk quickly, slashing at the heavy brush ahead with the machete. “Stay behind me, okay, and keep up.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” she says, already puffing a bit.

  “We’ll be hiking downhill for hours and Mother Nature is not going to make it easy for us. The ground is wet and spongy because it’s covered in layers of fallen leaves and sediment. It’s already tough, but at any moment, it could start pouring, which will make it all the more difficult.”

  “You’re rather dramatic, aren’t you? It’s not that hard,” she says.

  I slide down a few meters then regain my balance and turn to catch her, knowing she i
s likely not going to make it. But much to my surprise, she manages to stay on her feet, skidding down toward me like a pro.

  “Excellent balance, Your Highness.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not in need of your approval.”

  We continue on for another few minutes, now reaching a short drop off that requires a jump to get down. She almost loses her balance and reaches for a vine, but I grab her palm before she can touch it. She makes the jump, then tugs her hand away. “I'm fine, thank you.”

  “That vine you were reaching for was an Asian liana. Those thorns would have embedded themselves into your palm and with this humidity and heat, your entire hand would be infected within a few hours.” I turn and start through the brush again, slicing a path. “So, when I say don't touch anything, I mean don’t touch anything. Oh, and if you see any frogs, don’t lick the yellow ones.”

  “Being impolite to each other is hardly going to make anything better,” she says in a stiff tone.

  I stop and turn to her. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Your Highness, and if you’re doing something that could put your life—and therefore mine—at risk, I won’t have time for niceties.”

  “But certainly there was time for it after the fact, which is when you snapped at me,” she says, sounding irritatingly regal.

  Christ. I don’t have time for this shit. “If it pleases you, Your Highness, it would be most wonderful if you could refrain from touching anything without asking, so as not to become infected and die. I’d prefer not to have to carry your lifeless body out of the jungle for a proper royal burial.”