The Royal Beauty

by V Vee

  “Just as First Corinthians 13:4-8 says: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. If you have that kind of love, or if you can have that kind of love, you wouldn’t do this. You would understand. You would be so filled with love that you have no room for hate.”

  The room was quiet for a long time until Lorvaius began to clap slowly. “Touch, baby sister. Really touching. You still don’t get it do you? We do love. All of us.” He gestured to his other three cohorts. “We love revenge. We love justice. We love money and fame. And more importantly, we love blood, death, and ourselves. And that’s more than enough for us to take our pound of flesh from you and your white massa over here.”

  He lifted his arm to point a gun directly at Augustus’s head, when there was a knock on the door.

  He cursed and gestured at Danorian to answer it. Helen held her breath as she heard a woman’s voice, an educated woman’s voice: smooth, cultured, refined. She wondered if she would be able to scream out for help, but before she could, the gun moved from Augustus to her.

  “Not one fucking word,” Lorvaius growled.

  Danorian left the door and walked over to him, whispering in his ear. Helen tried to see who stood at the door, but all she could see was a pale, slender hand, a gold ring with a square-cut, topaz jewel embedded in the top, resting on one of the fingers. She wasn’t able to study the ring for long before Lorvaius stood in front of her.

  “Well, baby sister, looks like our time here is coming to an end. Seems as if your prince’s brothers are on their way here. I need to leave. It’s much to early for me to be caught. I have way too many people to punish.”

  Helen tried to jerk away when he leaned forward and kissed her bruised cheek. He stepped away and shook his head.

  “Just like Kutíbābā,” he whispered before swinging away and walking out the door of the building, Danorian right behind him.

  “Now it’s time to have some fun,” Taylor said with a grin as she stepped forward towards Helen. She gestured to Persephone. “Let her down.”

  Persephone’s eyebrows rose. “What? We’re not supposed to do that!” she whispered harshly.

  Taylor shook her head. “It will be okay. Trust me. I didn’t give birth to Lorvaius’s child to not have some sort of power.”

  Helen gasped and Taylor mocked her, covering her mouth, her blue eyes wide. She lowered her hand and an evil grin covered her lips.

  “Oh, what? Did you think I actually slept with Augustus?” She laughed evilly. “No, no, little virgin… oh wait, you’re not a virgin anymore are you?” She tilted her head with an evil smirk curving her mouth. “Augustus was so hung up on you that he refused to even make out with another woman, much less sleep with them. I mean, he didn’t even look at anyone else! It took a lot for my father and I to drug him and get him back to my bed so he would think he’d slept with me. But the fact is? Chloe? She’s not related to him. She’s related to you.”

  She approached Helen in a slinky manner, then grabbed Helen’s thick, long, black hair that was matted with sweat and blood.

  “I wonder if she’ll be as beautiful as you when she grows up?” Her eyes moved over Helen’s face, then she sneered. “Or at least as beautiful as you used to be.”

  And with that she saw and cut at Helen’s hair, until it was unevenly hanging around her face in some areas, shorn almost to the scalp at other spots. When she was satisfied, Taylor stepped away and gestured at Helen again.

  “Cut the bitch down, then toss her out in the field somewhere. Either she’ll die or the buzzards will get her. Either way, I want to be alone with the man who should have been my husband.”

  Helen knew that it didn’t matter where they put her, she would fight and crawl her way back. She wasn’t going to let Augustus be subjected to the evilness of the bitch in front of her, alone. And if she was going to die that day, she was going to do it with Augustus near.

  Leyah

  She watched as Persephone opened the door of the stolen palace vehicle and yanked Helen out of the car. She shoved and pushed until Helen was laying curled up in a ball on the ground, before she shut the door, settled back behind the wheel and drove back in the direction of the building.

  Don’t get too comfortable, bitch. I’m coming for you.

  Leyah pressed on her ear mic that Alastair had given to her and strapped her katana over her head to rest against her back, along with her sniper rifle, before she began to climb down from her perch on the small hill.

  “Yes, miora ruĝa?” Alastair’s voice came through. Leyah bit her lip to stop the shudder of pleasure from rippling through her body. She loved the sound of Alastair’s voice. Almost as much as she loved his touch.

  Focus, Leyah.

  “Oh right, yeah. I’m going down to get Helen.”

  “What? Ley! No, wait for one of us to get there,” Alastair protested.

  Leyah shook her head. “No can do, Sir. These harpies may have been trying to seduce you guys, but they have been personally coming after me and my girls. That bullshit stops today.” She ignored the spluttering and cursing coming from her husband, as well as the echoes of disagreement coming from his brothers and started to run across the field to a slowly awakening Helen. “Now, get my six.”

  “I have you,” Andreas said in a soft voice.

  “Good, thanks,” Leyah said. She came to a stop next to Helen and knelt next to her. Grabbing her canteen from her waist, Leyah lifted Helen and dribbled some water into her mouth.

  “Easy,” Leyah instructed her when Helen tried to take the canteen from her. After a while she lifted it away and looked down at Helen.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Helen frowned and lowered her eyebrows. “Ready for what?”

  Leyah smiled wickedly at her. “Girl, don’t you know yet? This is not the type of story where the damsel is rescued by the knight in shining armor. This is the story where the badass bitch saves her man. Now get up. Time to go get your man, and then fuck shit up.”

  Helen nodded and inhaled deeply before allowing Leyah to help her stand.

  “Let’s go.”

  Augustus turned his head and spit out the blood in his mouth onto the floor. He twisted his jaw side to side to ease the minor ache inflicted by the bitch's fist. He turned his gaze back to her and glared. He was going to kill her. And he was going to enjoy it.

  "Uh-uh," a voice came from his right. A voice belonging to an innocent person, someone who didn't deserve to be tied up like he was. Especially not when she'd just gotten free not a short time before. "She belongs to me. I owe that heifer a good beat down."

  Looking at her through his one good eye, Prince Augustus Smythe, second born son of the King of Malvidence, the snake, the liar, the cheat, was once again struck by the beauty of the woman who he could honestly say had his back in all things. Even though they were both restrained in that filth room, even though he had bruises, broken bones, and blood running freely from wounds inflicted on him, he could still appreciate her beauty. Still appreciate the fact that Helen Warren, his future wife, was the most beautiful woman in the world. In spite of the bruises that marred her beautiful face and body. Even missing the long, thick, black locks of hair he'd loved to run his fingers through.

  He would kill Taylor and Persephone for that, shaving Helen's head and removing her hair, and so much more. Then he would figure out how those two frail women were able to take him hostage. Especially with Danorian and Helen’s brother—and his own, according to what Taylor had mocked him with—gone.

  "You're doing it again," Helen's voice came to him again, thin with pain, but fierce with strength and determination.

  "Doing what, miora ruĝa?" he asked her, his heart pounding from the love he saw shining in her brown eyes.

  "Plotting the death of Taylor and Persephone,
" she shook her head. "I told you, Taylor's mine, and Persephone belongs to Leyah. Sorry sexy, you're just going to have to wait."

  Augustus opened his mouth to respond, only to stop when Taylor let out a high-pitched wail of anger. He rolled his eyes and grimaced. Geez, what was wrong with her?

  "Stop talking about me as if I weren't here! You're both so stupid! Can't you see that it's over? I have you both dead to rights. You want to be together so bad? Well, you can die together. It's what you both deserve," she snarled. She’d been pissed when Persephone hadn’t returned, but had been gleeful when Helen tried to sneak back in. She’d forced Helen onto the chair and tied her up, calling her all manner of names. Augustus would have gotten angry, especially when Helen’s wounds began to bleed all over again, but Helen had shaken her head at him surreptitiously, before glancing out the door.

  He understood then that help was either close or on the way. So he’d kept quiet. Though now, he was at the end of his rope. Whomever it was out there that was going to help them needed to hurry up, or he was going to kill Taylor himself.

  Augustus shook his head at Taylor, then opened his mouth to respond, only to stop when he saw the dark figure step into the doorway behind Taylor.

  "That's what you think, bitch," Helen said smugly.

  Augustus wasn't sure what surprised him more, that Helen had just used profanity, or when his sister-in-law, "Queen Aa'Leyah Smythe of Waldakan" stepped into the room, swinging her katana, her gaze trained on wanna-be-Princess, Lady Taylor Weshian, or rather, the soon to be former Lady Taylor Weshian.

  He smiled at the sound of Taylor's screams as she tried to back away from Leyah who backed her into the room and turned to look at Helen.

  "I love you," he said. He watched as Helen's gaze softened.

  "I love you too," she responded. They continued to watch each other as Leyah pursued a screaming Taylor deeper into the room that had been their prison for the past two days.

  Augustus would see Helen to safety, then he would go after the man behind it all.

  Lorvaius Kafele (Smythe).

  His half-brother.

  He hated that he hadn’t been able to spend more time with his half-sister and the prince who was one of his half-brothers. He’d had such plans for his big family reunion, but everything had to happen in its time. Today he’d left Taylor and Persephone to kill Augustus in his favorite building, and to leave Helen’s body to the animals and the elements.

  Forever separated.

  Forever alone.

  The both of them.

  He’d narrowly escaped, though he had a contingency for everything. A backup plan for every backup plan. And while he knew that Helen and Augustus, even Taylor and Persephone thought they knew all the players in his little game, only he knew everyone involved. And Danorian only knew a little less than him.

  “That was too close, Lorvaius,” she said as they sat in the town car on the way to their next destination.

  He shrugged. “Everything went according to plan,” he said nonchalantly.

  “This is not a game,” she hissed at him.

  Quick like a snake, he gripped her neck and yanked her towards him. Danorian hadn’t twitched once from his position on the seat next to him, but he knew the other man would react if he had to.

  “I know it’s not a game,” he growled. “I’m the one putting my life and my people on the line for this whole thing. For you. Because you were too chickenshit to do it yourself. Now let me work and don’t ever question me again, or I’ll have to kill you the same way I killed the woman who gave birth to me. Got it?”

  She nodded, her blue eyes wide—ones that always reminded him of his brothers—and swallowed nervously.

  “Good. So glad we understand each other, Kothrar,” he sneered, then licked the side of her face.

  He shoved her away from him back towards the door and settled in for the ride to the airport. He and Danorian were going on a little trip. He had a few siblings to reconnect with. First step was Europe, then it was to Tepprysi—where it seemed his eldest sister was still hiding out.

  Pregnant and with a daughter by another of his half-brothers.

  I’m on my way big sister. Are you ready?

  He grinned and chuckled when the woman next to him shuddered. But that was okay, he would take care of his half-brothers for her, then he would come back for her.

  Not even she, Queen Araminta Smythe, was safe from his vengeance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ten Weeks Later

  The doctor had finally given the both of them the all-clear. Both he and Helen were allowed to engage in “strenuous activities,” and from the desperate way they were kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes, Augustus knew that neither of them could wait any longer.

  His zipper gave way to her frantic tugs and Helen pulled his cock out, sighing at the sight of his hard dick. She licked her lips and touched a finger to his rigid tip causing his shaft to harden even further in her hand.

  His body shook like a leaf in a massive tornado in her hands. “Nerls, Helen!” he muttered. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  He chuckled at the wicked smile she tossed his way as she looked right into his eyes, even as she slowly inched her way down his body. Her skin grazing his all along the way. The tiny space between his bare chest and her long, flowy lavender dress was filled with electricity; the air crackling around them with it. She slid down and put the head of his dick in her mouth. “Gracvor…Helen…you’re killing me…”

  She opened her mouth wider to take in more of him. With one hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair—she was wearing a long, red haired one that day. The botched haircut she’d received from Taylor had left her with bald patches all over her head, so after shaving her head bald, Helen had started to wear wigs. Not all the time but every so often. The long strands had been up in a ponytail since they’d been spending time with Chloe earlier, but it had already loosened completely from their lovemaking. Augustus used his other hand and made slow, circular motions, massaging her scalp through the wig, knowing it sometimes chafed at her skin, even through the wig cap.

  The simple movements of her tongue on his cock, and the way she wiggled against him, set him body ablaze. Suddenly, unable to hold back any more, he flipped her unto her back. His hand pushed up her dress, revealing skin as it climbed higher.

  Each trail of his hand left the both of them burning for each other stronger and hotter. She hissed as his hand stopped just above her center.

  “Oh god, Augustus,” she moaned.

  He could feel his eyes glaze over as he took in her black lacy thong. Staring at her fixedly, he slowly dragged the dress off of her body, revealing her matching lace bra. His eyes fell on the swell of her large breasts and she tenderly placed a hand on his chest as his breathing fired up.

  Helen pinched a nipple and he sucked in a breath. He traced the tip of his fingers up her inner thigh at the same time his head disappeared in between her cleavage. She almost jumped out of her skin when his moist lips brushed against her nipple through the lace of the bra. Pushing aside her thong, he dipped a finger inside her, thrusting oh-so-slowly, driving her nuts.

  She was wet and weeping for him already, and he could barely contain the growl that wanted to burst out of his chest. His fingers slid through her slit as if it just found a new home. Her head fell against the pillow as he withdrew his finger and thrust it in again. He began making a circular motion inside her. He wanted her delirious for him. Coming out of her skin.

  His name on her lips, gasped, moaned, and cried sent a shard of fire right through him. She was going to be the death of him. How long had they been at this now? He couldn’t tell, but somehow, between them both, they got rid of his jeans and boxer briefs, and rid her of the wig and cap she wore, shushing her when she went to protest.

  He devoured her with his eyes when her near nakedness was finally revealed to him, and the way she raked her gaze over him, she was taking in the full si
ght of him as well.

  When she moved to try and cover the scars from her brother’s and Taylor’s assaults on her, he stopped her with a restraining hand. They were both scarred. Both bearing the marks of their tussle with the devil. But it was simply further proof of their love for each other. Their commitment. Their devotion.

  “You’re perfect,” he murmured. With his teeth, he discarded her bra and tossed it aside while making guttural sounds that drove her wild. His fingers continued to torture her while her core wept copiously for him. With his lips and fingers, he tormented and took her to heights neither of them had ever imagined. She begged and threatened and said a lot of things he could barely hear much less remember. She thrashed in the bed and called him all kinds of names as his ministrations were unending. Always, she arched her back and gave him more access to her center whenever he pushed a finger deeper or harder.

  Helen moaned and screamed whenever he sucked or nibbled on a taut nipple with his naughty tongue. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she grabbed his dick in her hands and began to pump it as feverishly.

  “I want you, Augustus, I want you now.”

  “Soon, miora ruĝa,” he said and added another finger inside her. Her breaths came out in short gasps now. She was sweating and shaking from head to toe, and still he wanted to wait. She wasn’t delirious for him.

  “Now,” she insisted. Holding firmly to his hard shaft, she guided it inside her. Slapping his hands away, she let the tip touch her hot, wet folds. They both closed their eyes in sensual relief as he bucked on top of her. He was no longer complaining. With speed that—judging by her gasp—surprised her, he pushed into her so hard the bed creaked loudly.

  He wasn’t going to complain; and he knew no one else would either, that powerful shove was everything they’d both needed. Again, and again he slammed into her, his sweat mixing with hers. Helen wrapped her legs around him, neither of them willing to let go of the other this time. They stared into each other’s eyes, letting each stroke into her deliver the message left unsaid weeks, months, even almost two years ago—they belonged together. For now, and for always.