Passion explodes violently, a tsunami that washes in without warning and submerges us completely. Our hands claw and tear, desperate to get closer after so much time suffering in separate agony. My fingers dig into his back, hard enough to bruise. His lips claim mine, savage enough to leave them swollen.
There is no room for reasonable questions or sound arguments. Not anymore. We have flown past the point of no return, to a place were the only thing that matters is this.
Us.
Now.
His kiss is a broken promise on borrowed time. His touch is faulty fuse struck with the hottest match. We possess all the potential in the world without an ounce of fulfillment. We are a lost cause, doomed before our inception. And still, I cannot stop myself from shoving the tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, to the dirty ground. Just as he can’t prevent his hands from lifting me up onto the slate table.
My legs part beneath the thick layers of tulle as he bunches it by my waist, so he can step closer.
Closer.
Never close enough.
My need for him is so strong, I can hardly see straight as my shaking hands slide down his chest to trace the throbbing outline of his cock through the thin fabric. The ache between my thighs magnifies as I feel his shaft swell beneath my touch. God… he’s so huge, so hard, it’s difficult to believe I’m the one who’s sparking this reaction within him.
He growls my name as his hands clutch me harder, lips dropping to suck the sensitive skin of my neck. The nip of teeth against my jugular vein, where my pulse races double speed, has my back arching like a bowstring.
Fingers grasping blindly, I fumble with the button of his pants, then struggle to slide his zipper down. I need to free him, to feel him heavy within the grip of my hands, no barriers left between us. I need to watch him come undone beneath my touch, just as he’s undoing me. I need him inside me, under my skin, embedded so deep he’ll never fully leave me.
His hands tangle in my hair as he kisses me again, ruining my perfect up-do in an instant. I don’t give a shit. Our lips never part, even as I pull him into my hand and begin to pump his length, rhythmic strokes that draw deep groans of pleasure from the back of his throat.
With a sudden growl, he tears his lips from mine and shoves me back, flat against the table. Before I can blink, he’s out of my reach, kneeling on the ground between my legs. His dark head disappears beneath my voluminous skirts, his hands roughly shove my knees apart. I cry out when his fingers delve into the flimsy fabric of my underwear and tear it clear off my body, the intricate stitches no match for his impatience.
I don’t even have time to be shocked by his savage action. My focus narrows to the broad fingers stroking my inner thighs as he hitches my legs over his shoulders. When he leans in, his mouth sucking on my clit like he’s been starving for me, I swear my whole damn world ceases to exist. There’s nothing left but this — his lips feasting on me, my back arching up off the table. Pleasure spikes in a dizzying bolt, my thighs clenching around him as he fucks me slowly with his tongue.
The orgasm slams into me without warning, so fast I’m unprepared for it. I cry out as I come, loudly enough to draw unwanted attention. Carter swiftly rises to cover my mouth with his, swallowing my cries as his hands finish the job his lips began. His fingers slide into my soaked core, first one finger, then two, working with expert precision as waves of pleasure crash through me, over and over, a never-ending tide. I’m moaning, clutching wildly at him as I taste myself on his tongue, desperate for more even as my whole body trembles with aftershocks.
Our eyes meet in the darkness and I see my own lust reflected back at me — so strong, it’s almost painful. I grab his shirt and pull him fully down on top of me, his heavy weight settling between my thighs. Tulle bunches around my waist in a thick layer, but I hardly notice as my legs wind around his back.
“Emilia,” he groans, face suddenly tortured. “Are you sure?”
“I’m on the pill,” I whisper, kissing him again. Sliding my hands into his hair. Reveling in the delicious weight of his hard, hot body, pressing me down against the cool slate.
“You know that’s not what I mean. Once we do this…”
His expression is composed as he hesitates, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest gives him away, as does the tension in his shoulders when his hands plant themselves on either side of my face. I feel the hard head of his shaft brush the slickness between my thighs, and that merest hint of him is nearly enough to trigger another orgasm.
“Carter…” I reach down between us, encircle my hand around his pulsing length, and maneuver him until he’s poised perfectly at my entrance. “I’m sure.”
Groaning with need, he slams himself home without another instant of doubt, entering me in a brutal thrust that jerks my whole body several inches up the table. I’m unable to tame the screams of pleasure that fly from my throat as he moves inside me, filling me so fully, I think my body might break in two. He fucks me like a man possessed, each stroke deeper than the last.
“Emilia.”
He growls my name like a prayer. Like a promise. Like a vow.
His tongue spears into my mouth, moving to the same rhythm as his cock. His eyes are wilder than I’ve ever seen them — holding mine captive as we move together, thrust for thrust.
We are dancing on the edge of a blade that’s liable to slice us both in two at any instant, but I don’t care. Right now, there’s just him and me and this table. No past, no future. No names, no labels. Just lust and need and maybe, if I look a little deeper, something more.
Something that scares me a million times more than anything else I’ve faced, tonight.
When I orgasm again, it’s even more powerful than the first time. Carter follows me over the edge of pleasure mere seconds later, my name exultant on his lips as he spills himself inside me. And as we lie there in the aftermath, breathing hard with the glass of the greenhouse fogging around us and the moon a pale spotlight overhead, we hold each other so tight, it’s almost easy to forget that in a few short minutes…
We’re going to have to let go.
Chapter Twenty
We dress in the darkness, not speaking as we brush dirt from our expensive clothes, straighten our mussed hair, refasten our buttons. I can’t quite meet his eyes as he bends to retrieve my tiara from the stone floor.
“Here.”
I stare at the literal reminder of responsibility, a tangible reality check cradled within his hands, and feel my heart stutter inside my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper rather haltingly, reaching out to take it from him. Hoping it’s not crooked, I set it back on top of my head. I press my eyes closed to keep my emotions in check as I force out the next words. “We should probably head back.”
I swear he makes a low sound of rage, but when my eyes flash open, he looks totally composed. The picture of indifference.
“They’ll come looking for me if I’m gone too long.”
He snorts, but otherwise doesn’t respond.
My eyes narrow. “Do you have something to say?”
“No. You want to go back in there, that’s fine. But if you think I’m about to follow you, to stand there on the sidelines, watching you flirt with every man in a six hundred mile radius—”
“Do you honestly think I like this?” I cut him off sharply, temper rising to match his. “Do you think I enjoy being passed from hand to hand like some prized breeding mare, when the only person I want to be with—” I bite my lip to contain the dangerous words, so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t split down the center.
“What’s your suggestion, Emilia?” Carter’s eyes have gone so dark, I hardly recognize him. “Let me guess — forget this ever happened? Go back to being enemies?” He snorts. “‘Cause that worked really fucking well for us the last time we tried, didn’t it? Two weeks of space, then a quick screw on a workbench during your bloody coronation!”
My spine snaps straight. “A quick screw. Was that all this
was to you?”
“You tell me, Emilia.” He leans in, gaze trapping mine. “What was this? A beginning or an ending?”
“I don’t know, all right? This wasn’t supposed to happen. God…” I shake my head, feeling my emotions unravel. Confusion, despair, and longing are tearing at me with violent talons. I want nothing more than to take those three steps forward, to throw myself into the circle of his arms and bury my head against his chest. But losing myself in him won’t solve a damn thing. In fact…
Losing myself in him is exactly why we’re in this mess.
“Carter,” I say in a broken voice. “Please…”
“Please what, Princess?”
“You know that if things were different—”
“But they’re not,” he says flatly, expression shuttering into a callous mask I recognize all too well.
“No. They’re not,” I echo, wondering how things got so turned around so incredibly fast.
Five minutes ago, I was in his arms.
Now, we can barely look at each other.
“Go on then, Your Highness.” He jerks his chin toward the doors. “Back to your precious party.”
“Carter—”
“Go.”
I flinch at the coldness in his voice. Before the tears start flowing, I steel my shoulders, straighten my ballgown, and walk out the door, back into the bitter night.
The party feels garish and gaudy, too loud and too bright after the poignant passion of the dark greenhouse. I float through the crowd, face set in a frigid mask, nodding hello to people as I pass. Chloe tries to wave me over from a table in the corner, but I avoid her eyes. I know she’ll see instantly that something is wrong, and press me for details. I’m so dazed, I don’t notice Linus and Octavia until I’ve nearly bumped straight into them.
“Emilia,” my father says, scanning my flushed face and messy hair. “Are you all right?”
I nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes,” Octavia snaps. “We need you on the platform for the champagne toast.”
“Sorry,” I murmur halfheartedly. I can’t seem to summon the energy to care about anything, at the moment. Especially not Octavia’s petty problems.
She stomps toward the small dais. Linus and I trail in her wake.
“I’m sorry about my wife,” he murmurs, too low for her to hear. “She wasn’t always so uptight about punctuality.”
“I think it has less to do with me being late than it does me, in general.” I sigh. “Everything I do seems to displease her. I swear, I’m not even trying.”
We lapse into a short silence. Just before we ascend onto the small stage where a platter bearing three crystal champagne flutes awaits us, he meets my eyes.
“The sooner you let go of the idea that you can please everyone, the better off you will be, Emilia. This life we live… it’s not about contentment. Progress rarely comes about with any sort of peace of mind. And, as you’ll soon learn… real royalty isn’t about achieving that much-lauded happily ever after. It’s about duty and obligation to something larger than yourself. To crown and country.”
I swallow hard, unable to retort.
“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing me toward the stairs.
In silence, I take my place beside Octavia on the platform. Linus steps between us to address the crowd. My eyes scan the sea of faces, looking for Carter, but I don’t see him anywhere.
“Thank you all for coming here tonight, to celebrate this occasion. It has been a dark time for Germania. We have suffered tremendous losses, the likes of which we will struggle for years to recover from. But we cannot abandon faith. We cannot lose ourselves in the darkness. Now, more than ever, we must band together. A united front. A unified kingdom.” He reaches out and plucks two of the champagne glasses from the tray. Passing one to me and the other to Octavia, he takes the final flute for himself and lifts it into the air.
“Non sibi sed patriae,” he calls, voice ringing out with hope and strength. “Not for self, but country. May we all strive to embody that core Germanian value each day, as we move forward into a bright future.”
He takes a hearty gulp of his champagne. As is customary, the rest of the hall waits for him to finish his sip before joining.
“Non sibi sed patriae,” we all echo, as he lowers his glass. “Long live King Linus! Long live King Linus! Long live King Linus!”
The chant goes on for quite some time, until he waves to signal quiet. His flute raises again. “Thank you, my friends. Now, let us join in a drink, not as king and subject, but as friends.”
More cheers break out as the crowd sips their champagne. I lift my own flute to my lips, but pause when I hear a strangled sound from Linus. Wide-eyed, I glance over and see his face turning a deep, mottled purple color. Foam is gathering at one corner of his mouth.
“Linus? Oh, god, Linus!”
The flute drops from his hand, glass shattering on impact. He claws at his throat, suddenly desperate for oxygen as his windpipe swells shut. It’s as though he’s choking on thin air. All I can do is watch as his body crumples to the dais like a rag doll.
“HELP!” I scream, falling to my knees beside him, my own flute abandoned. I stare down in horror, wishing I knew what to do. “PLEASE HELP US!”
Octavia is wailing something from his other side, but I pay her no mind. I look into my father’s face, grabbing his hand tight inside my own.
“Hang on,” I whisper. “Just hang on. Do you hear me? Help is coming.”
But even as I tell him to stay strong, the light is beginning to fade from his eyes. The white froth at his mouth is thicker now, tinged pink with flecks of blood as it dribbles down his chin to pool on the platform beneath us.
No.
No, no, no.
A tear falls from my eyes down onto his face.
“You cannot die,” I forbid him, voice breaking. “The kingdom needs you.” I suck in a breath. “I need you. I’m not ready to do this without you. Do you hear me, Linus? Do you hear me, Dad?”
His chest rattles.
His lids close.
His jaw slackens.
And in the space of a breath…
In the length of a heartbeat…
In the blink of a deep green eye…
A crown changes hands once more.
THE END
* * *
…for now.
Don’t miss TORRID THRONE, the thrilling sequel to DIRTY HALO, coming EARLY 2019.
* * *
P R E - O R D E R
Playlist
Castle — Halsey
Royals — Lorde
Young and Beautiful — Lana Del Rey
King and Lionheart — Of Monsters and Men
Kingdom Fall — Claire Wyndham
Light Me Up — Ingrid Michaelson
Listen — Claire Guerreso
Everybody Wants to Rule the World — Lorde
Arsonist’s Lullaby — Hozier
Leave the Door Wide Open — Black English
Don’t You Cry For Me — Cobi
Half Light — BANNERS
Beggin For Thread — BANKS
Halo — Ane Brun (feat. Linnea Olsson)
Call It What You Want — Taylor Swift
About the Author
JULIE JOHNSON is a twenty-something Boston native suffering from an extreme case of Peter Pan Syndrome. When she's not writing, Julie can most often be found adding stamps to her passport, drinking too much coffee, striving to conquer her Netflix queue, and Instagramming pictures of her dog. (Follow her: @author_julie)
She published her debut novel LIKE GRAVITY in August 2013, just before her senior year of college, and she's never looked back. Since, she has published more than a dozen other novels, including the bestselling BOSTON LOVE STORY series, THE GIRL DUET, and THE FADED DUET. Her books have appeared on Kindle and iTunes Bestseller lists around the world, as well as in AdWeek, Publishers Weekly, and USA
Today.
You can find Julie on Facebook or contact her on her website www.juliejohnsonbooks.com. Sometimes, when she can figure out how Twitter works, she tweets from @AuthorJulie. For major book news and updates, subscribe to Julie's newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bnWtHH
Connect with Julie:
www.juliejohnsonbooks.com
[email protected]
Also by Julie Johnson
STANDALONE NOVELS:
LIKE GRAVITY
SAY THE WORD
FAITHLESS
THE BOSTON LOVE STORIES:
NOT YOU IT’S ME
CROSS THE LINE
ONE GOOD REASON
TAKE YOUR TIME
SO WRONG IT’S RIGHT
THE GIRL DUET:
THE MONDAY GIRL
THE SOMEDAY GIRL
THE FADED DUET:
FADED
UNFADED
THE UNCHARTED DUET:
UNCHARTED
UNFINISHED
Dirty Halo Page 20