But no Adonis. And no message from him either.
She tried not to let that bother her. Tried to tell herself that of course there would be a period of adjustment. That he would find his way back to her and to the man he’d been on the island again in time, she just had to be patient. In the meantime, she flung herself into caring for Ione to distract herself from the insistent, dragging doubt that the little family she’d been part of so briefly would always be missing one of its most vital components.
Him.
Five days later, alone in the luxurious rooms he’d set aside for her, Anna pushed wide the doors to the balcony and stumbled outside, feeling inexplicably as if she couldn’t breathe.
She’d had a day of dress fittings and Ione being difficult, and there was a sadness inside her that she couldn’t escape. It dragged at her, pulled at her, made her bad tempered, and the brittle calm she’d been trying to maintain had broken. She’d spoken too sharply to Ione, making the little girl run from her in tears, and making herself feel as if she were right back in the convent, desperate for something she couldn’t name.
The night was deep and warm and velvety, the lights of the city beneath the palace glittering, the mountains looming on either side. The air was cool on her skin, but not too cold, carrying with it the memory of the hot noonday sun.
It was a beautiful night, but Anna couldn’t enjoy it, unable to shake the sense that she’d only swapped one empty place for another, and both of those places were missing something vital. Something that could have made them home. Something she could never have.
She stood at the parapet and put her hands on the cool stone, taking breath after breath. Perhaps it was simply panic about the wedding and becoming queen. An attack of bridal nerves...
It’s him you’re missing. It’s him you’ll never have.
Cold iced the blood in her veins, doubt hooking its claws into her, and she had to take yet another breath to get control of it.
Yes, she was missing him. But she had to be patient. Had to believe that he would eventually come to see that what he’d found on the island he could have here too.
Ione was only tired and so was she. Tomorrow would be better. Perhaps she might even see him. That would help. She didn’t need much, just his presence somewhere close by.
Behind her came the sound of her bedroom door shutting, and when she turned it felt as if her heart had stopped beating and was seizing in her chest.
Adonis was striding towards her, tall and powerful, shrugging out of his suit jacket and discarding it on the couch as he came. Pulling at the grey tie around his neck and jerking that off too, he tossed it negligently onto the floor, leaving him wearing a black business shirt and charcoal suit trousers that highlighted his strength and dark, masculine power, making every feminine sense she had sit up and take notice. His expression was stony, but the blue of his eyes burned like a gas flame.
Had he remembered their time on the island? Was he coming to tell her that was what he wanted? Was he coming to tell her that he needed her?
But he didn’t say a word and he didn’t look anywhere else but at her, coming across the room and through the double doors that led out onto the balcony. And he didn’t stop. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He lifted his hands, sliding his fingers into her hair, tipping her head back and covering her mouth, hard and demanding.
It was a hungry, frantic kiss, echoing the hunger and demand in her own heart, crushing the doubt, melting the ice.
That man was still there. Her lover of the island. She could taste the desperation in his kiss, the longing for something more, the need for a connection.
It was there and perhaps it would take a long time for him to say it, or perhaps he never would, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. That didn’t mean he didn’t want it.
She couldn’t doubt him or put her own fears before what was in her heart.
His parents might not have put him first, but she would.
He needed her to and so she’d give him everything. Whatever he wanted, anything at all. She would give him all of it. Her mind. Her heart. Her soul.
Anna melted against him the way he’d been dreaming of for days now. Her mouth was open and hot under his, her lush curves pressed to every inch of him.
Since getting back from the island, he’d had a mountain of work to get through, because, although Xerxes had handled most of it, there was always more, and there were some things he alone had to do.
Adonis had informed Xerxes of his intention to marry and had installed Anna in new rooms in the family wing of the palace. To say Xerxes had been surprised was an understatement. But Adonis hadn’t been in the mood to discuss that, or the child Anna was carrying, and so he’d sent his brother away and buried himself in his work.
Or, at least, he’d tried, starting with rebuilding the detachment he’d left in ruins back on the island.
Yet for some reason he couldn’t. Because every time he attempted to detach himself from his emotions, all he could think about was walking along the beach and the leap of joy in his heart as Ione had put her hand in his; the tenderness that had filled him as Anna lay against him in the dark; the satisfaction of cooking for her; the happiness as he’d tacked across the bay in the little yacht, with Ione laughing in the sun...
The happiness that had ruined him.
That was why it was impossible to put his emotions aside, why he couldn’t shake the coiling, tangling need that had clawed at him ever since he’d returned to the palace.
He’d tasted happiness and now he wanted more.
He’d thought denial would work, that his will would be strong enough, that if he stayed away from Anna, he would be able to hold out. But all those years of his father’s training apparently hadn’t been enough, because the instant he’d had an evening free he’d left his office and made straight for her rooms.
He was weak, the way his father had always told him he was.
Adonis kissed her deeper, harder, the hunger inside him seeming to get more intense with every passing second. And there was no point resisting it now, so he didn’t.
Anna shuddered against him, her arms around his neck, letting him devour her, letting him ravage her mouth like a conqueror.
She tasted like heaven and he was so hard he couldn’t think, let alone resist.
Picking her up in his arms, he turned from the balcony, striding back into the room. He laid her down on the bed, pulling off the silky white nightgown she wore and exposing all that beautiful soft pale skin. He got rid of his own clothes in seconds flat and then he was on the bed with her, pushing apart her thighs. She gasped as he slid a hand between them, stroking the hot, silky flesh he found there, making her writhe, readying her for him. But only when she was slick and trembling did he settle himself between her legs.
She reached for him without hesitation, and when he thrust hard into her she groaned and closed her legs around him, holding him tight to her in welcome. And then there was nothing but the building hunger, the feel of her around him, slippery and soft, her pulse beating fast and frantic in the hollow of her throat.
This is it. This is happiness. With her.
Her eyes were very dark as they looked up into his, pleasure glittering there, and the truth caught at his heart, fierce and bright, like embers exploding into flames.
Yes, this was happiness. She was happiness. She was what he’d wanted all this time. What he’d needed and never known.
What you can never have.
But he couldn’t deal with that thought, not now, so he tried to drown it with pleasure, taking her to the brink of climax over and over again, keeping her hovering, almost but not quite tipping over.
She trembled and shook beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, his name a ragged prayer. The bright, fierce heat he felt in his own heart glowed in her eyes, and, when h
e drove her over the edge and ecstasy rippled over her lovely face, it flared, making her gaze glitter as brightly as stars, illuminating her from within.
He couldn’t look at her, so he kissed her savagely instead as he took his own pleasure in hard, deep thrusts, letting the orgasm take him, letting the ecstasy annihilate him.
But there was no escape. Even when he closed his eyes the truth was still there, the fire burning hot in the hearth of his heart—the hearth that was supposed to stay dead and cold, but hadn’t.
This is what your father was protecting you from.
Yes, he understood now. Of course his father hadn’t shown mercy. Of course he’d been brutal and hard. Because happiness was a drug, and once you’d had a taste, all you wanted was more.
Xenophon had known his son too well, had known how hot Adonis’s emotions burned. How he’d always wanted more. He’d wanted his mother to protect him, not his father’s position, not the throne. And he’d wanted his father to comfort him after she’d died, not blame him. And when his father had made him choose between being a son and being an heir, he’d wanted to be a son. But how could he choose that when Xenophon had only wanted an heir?
His emotions were the problem. His need to be put before everything, his need for love. Because Xenophon had known, even if Adonis hadn’t, that his son would always put that need before everything else.
And he had. He could have stopped Xerxes’s torture, could have protected him, but he’d let it go on, because he’d wanted his father’s approval. He’d wanted his love. Perhaps he’d even betrayed his parents all those years ago out of anger. Because he’d wanted to be put first, and he never had been...
His heartbeat was far too fast, the heat of his orgasm dissipating, leaving behind it a creeping, icy sensation.
Love was the problem. Love was the mistake. And he could feel it burning in his chest—love for the woman lying under him, so deep and intense and fierce. And he knew if he gave in to it, he would end up doing anything for her.
Even betraying a nation the way he’d done years ago.
He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t give in. Which meant there was only one option, only one choice. The same choice his father had always given him.
Son or heir? Brother or crown? Love or country?
He chose the throne. He always chose the throne.
Adonis shoved himself away from the woman on the bed, rolling off it and getting to his feet. His blood rushed through his veins, his pulse loud in his head. He couldn’t get enough air.
‘Adonis?’ Her voice was soft and he could hear concern in it. Concern for him.
He turned and there she was, sitting up on the bed, completely naked, her hair around her shoulders and gleaming softly in the dim light of the room. Concern shone in her face, because that was the kind of woman she was. Unselfish and giving. Honest and open.
A woman he couldn’t allow himself to have, no matter how badly he wanted her.
His emotions could put an entire nation in danger and he couldn’t allow that. And, since he hadn’t been able to resist her, the only thing he could do was send her away.
As his brother had been sent away.
There were tears in her eyes. ‘You’re going to send me away, aren’t you?’
Of course she knew. She could read him like no one else. She could read every thought in his head.
‘I have to,’ he said, because there was no point in denial.
‘Are you going to tell me why?’ Her chin took on a determined slant. ‘But don’t feed me the same lies your father told you. I don’t believe them.’
Pain crawled through him, aching and raw, his need for her tightening his fists and eating at his heart. ‘Because I love you.’ The words weren’t a blessing. They were a curse.
Shock flickered over her lovely face and then came joy, lighting her up like a Roman candle. She threw aside the sheet, sliding from the bed, apparently not caring that she was naked. Her skin glowed like pearls, her eyes like fine silver, glittering and precious as she came to him.
But he threw up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. He couldn’t let her get close, otherwise he would break. And he wasn’t going to break, not again. ‘But I can’t love you, Anna,’ he said harshly. ‘That’s why you have to go.’
A fierce expression shone in her face. ‘If you can’t love me, then don’t. I didn’t ask you to. Just don’t send me away.’
Of course his little nun would protest. Except this was the best decision for her too. He could cut out this love he felt; he could survive its loss. But she wouldn’t. She was an orchid, in need of heat and light and care, and there was only darkness and coldness where he was. She would end up withering and dying, and she deserved more than that.
‘No,’ he said, his voice icy. ‘Regardless of whether you asked for love or not, you need it, Anna. You cannot survive without it.’
‘That’s not true—’
‘Tell me I’m wrong, then. Tell me you haven’t been searching your whole life for someone who will love you the way your mother didn’t. The way the nuns in your convent couldn’t.’
She flushed, her eyes glittering. ‘What does that matter? I don’t have to get that love from you.’
‘Then where will you get it? From whom? From Ione? That’s a child’s love. What about at night, when you want someone to hold you—’
‘Don’t make this about me,’ she interrupted fiercely. ‘This is about you. You want love, Adonis. You want it so badly, but you won’t let yourself have it. You won’t let yourself take it.’ Her eyes glowed so bright, like stars. ‘I love you. And I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to realise that you can have what you want—joy, laughter, happiness... Everything you never had, everything you want, it’s yours.’
He did want it. He wanted it so badly that if he moved, even a step, it would be to take her in his arms.
She will fail you in the end. They all fail you...
And that was true, wasn’t it? His mother had put her husband first and his father his throne. They hadn’t cared about what happened to him. No one had.
He’d told himself Xenophon had only been trying to make him into a better king, helping him to protect his country, and that maybe, deep down, his father was doing it because he cared.
But those were lies, just as Anna had said.
His father hadn’t cared about him. He’d just wanted him to do what he was told.
And now here was Anna, telling him she loved him, that she’d give him everything he ever wanted. But...how could he trust that? How could he trust that one day something or someone else wouldn’t become more important to her than he was?
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Detachment was better than that pain any day.
Besides, when there was a choice, he chose the throne. That at least was familiar.
‘No,’ he said coldly, surrounding himself in ice and stone. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. It’s you or the crown and the crown always wins.’
The pretty flush that had stained her skin slowly dissipated, the joy leaving her eyes. She looked hollowed out and far too pale. ‘You’re not going to change your mind, are you?’ Her voice was only a whisper. ‘You’ll never change your mind. He did his work far too well.’
A crack opened up inside him, yawning wide, pain pressing at the edges.
He ignored it, turning away and picking up his shirt from where he’d thrown it, anything to distract himself, to get himself under control.
‘And Ione?’ Anna asked huskily when he didn’t speak. ‘If you can’t love me, then you can’t love her. Will you send her away too?’
‘I’ll find someone else to fulfil your role.’ He kept his voice hard as he pulled on the shirt and then the rest of his clothes.
‘Will you bring her up to be like you?’ Anna went on implacably. ‘Will you crush her
spirit? Torture people she cares about so she learns to detach herself as well? Make sure she never knows joy or happiness or love?’
He whirled back to face her, shirt still open, his heart racing. ‘Enough!’
But somehow Anna had come closer and she was standing in front of him, small and beautiful and naked. And her hands reached for him, cupping his face. ‘Don’t become him,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Don’t become your father. If not for my sake, at least for hers.’
Her touch burned, fire against his skin, the pain in her eyes reaching into his soul and wrenching him apart.
Isn’t she right? Isn’t that what you’ve become?
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this had been his destiny all along.
He took her wrists gently in his fingers, pulling her hands from his face even as he buried the pain in his heart. ‘I won’t hurt her, I swear it.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’ Her gaze searched his, a sharp, bright grief in her eyes. ‘He failed you, Adonis. And he failed your brother too.’
A thread of agony crawled through him, despite the ice, but it was the agony of the man and so he crushed it. Crushed it utterly.
He didn’t want to be the man any longer.
He needed to be the king.
‘No, Anna,’ he said without expression, getting rid of his emotions once and for all. ‘Don’t you see? He saved me. Without him, I would never have had the strength to send you away.’
Tears tracked down her cheeks in shiny silver trails, but she didn’t look away from him. ‘That’s not strength, that’s fear,’ she said, her voice broken and yet firm. ‘But I suppose you’ll never understand that, will you?’
‘No, little nun,’ he said gently. ‘I won’t.’
More tears slid down her face, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. ‘Fine. But what happens to our baby?’
The Most Powerful Of Kings (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 2) Page 15