Taken by Storm (Storms of Blackwood Book 1)

by Elle Middaugh

I took a deep breath and changed the subject to something not at all less awkward.

  “So, tell me about Princess Bria, the one you’re almost, kind of, sort of engaged to?”

  Cal’s expression hardened, but he obliged me with an answer. “She’s the heiress to the throne of Timberlune—the kingdom closest to Nightshade Castle in Northern Blackwood. They’re a mixture of fae and humans, but the royal family is pure-blood fae and quite powerful. Bria is... kind, pretty, and smart, so there’s that.”

  I sniffed out a laugh. “Sounds like a perfect match.”

  Cal chuckled. “Perfectly boring, maybe.”

  I grinned. “Something like that, yeah.”

  He shook his head, amusement playing at the corners of his lips, as he led us down the stairs and into a hallway I’d never been in before.

  It was darker here, lit with fluttering candles that lent the space a warm and comfortable glow. I could hear bubbling water up ahead, and I wondered if the greenhouse was close.

  “So, why would your dad order you to court me if it would risk war with another country? He has four sons. Why not just let me choose from the other three?”

  Cal sighed, twisting his lips as if he didn’t want to answer. “My father is arrogant. He doesn’t see the surrounding kingdoms as a threat.”

  “And are they?” I asked as a huge room full of plants and blossoms came into view. “A threat, that is?”

  Cal stopped in the greenhouse doorway and shook his head. “Welcome to the world of politics, Alexis. Lesson one. Everyone is a potential threat.”

  Something still wasn’t adding up, though.

  “Why are you doing this, then? I mean, I know he’s your father and the king, but you’re a prince, an heir to the throne. Surely you have the right to refuse him? Especially if it’s for the betterment of the kingdom?”

  Cal chuckled darkly, the smile never once touching his blue eyes.

  “Lesson two. The Storm King is the biggest threat of all. He always gets what he wants, one way or another.”

  We entered the greenhouse, and I was immediately overwhelmed by heat, humidity, and the sweet scent of honey and nectar. Bees buzzed from flower to flower—vibrant blooms I’d never seen before—and birds chirped from somewhere hidden, singing songs I’d never heard. Floral baskets hung from ropes, and vines crisscrossed across the vaulted ceiling, and on each side of the stone path were rows upon rows of potted plants, giving the whole indoor garden a very maze-like feel.

  Prince Benson sat on a wrought-iron bench at a curve in the path, smiling brightly.

  Why did I get the feeling I’d been set up?

  Calvin bowed and gestured to his brother. “It’s Ben’s turn to spend a few minutes with you.”

  And with that, he turned around and walked away.

  Ben stood and gestured further up the path. “Shall we?”

  Taking a deep breath, I strolled over and hesitantly linked my arm in his. “Sure.”

  I hadn’t forgotten how he’d recoiled from me earlier. Granted, I was at least clean now, but still. I didn’t want to push my luck.

  We walked for a few moments in silence, simply getting used to one another’s strides and company. Like with Cal, I didn’t feel nervous around Ben. There were no bad vibes coming from him that made me want to run or put up my guard.

  I didn’t know if that was me being a stupid, naïve girl from the village or if my intuition was just chiming in on the princes’ behalf. Either way, it was fucking weird. According to my mother, none of these Storms should be trusted.

  “So, what’s this all about?” I asked rather bluntly.

  He chuckled in surprise. “What’s what about?”

  “You know,” I said, gesturing all around to nothing in particular. “This. Taking me for a walk. Passing me off from brother to brother. What’s it about?”

  He shook his head, but that smile still never left his lips.

  “You’re different than I expected,” he admitted. “Bold. Honest. Pretty.”

  My cheeks burned as my heart pounded harder. Prince Ben just called me pretty. What sort of freaking parallel universe was this? Not even peasants had ever given me a second glance back in Blackleaf.

  I swallowed hard. “Your voice is deeper than I expected. It rumbles when you talk.”

  He laughed out loud.

  “And when you laugh,” I added with a smile.

  He shook his head as his laughter slowly calmed. “Well, thank you for that... compliment? I’m not really sure...”

  “Um, you’re welcome?”

  Gods, I was awful at this. Whatever the hell this even was. At least he seemed to be just as inadequate. Misery loves company and all.

  “So...” he said, as if unsure of where to start. “What was life like where you’re from?”

  I might’ve laughed if I wasn’t suddenly so embarrassed. Heat blazed into my cheeks.

  “Hard.”

  He nodded appreciatively, not needing an explanation.

  The Storm King had obviously already informed them of who I was and where I’d come from. How else would Rob have been able to crack that joke about me being a jewel? And yeah, after meeting them, I was damn sure he had said it. The prick.

  Not wanting to be rude, I asked the same question back. “How’s life where you’re from?”

  He grinned and, just like me, stuck with a one-word answer. “Hot.”

  I suppose if you ruled Obsidian Palace in the middle of a desert oasis, you really would be swelteringly hot most of the time. This greenhouse was hot enough, and it was probably not even close to the same temperature. I fanned my face as the humidity clung to my skin.

  “How about we walk somewhere else?” Ben asked, eyeing me curiously.

  I nodded, and he led me out of the greenhouse but through a different door than before. Thanks to the dampness that now clung to my skin, the hallway felt a little extra cold. Whatever. It was still better than sweating my ass off.

  “You never did answer my question,” I said as we strolled through the hall.

  “What question?”

  I didn’t know if he was playing dumb or if he’d simply forgotten.

  “About why you’re doing this.”

  “Ah,” he said, as if the answer had suddenly dawned on him. “Our father didn’t feel we made a very good impression earlier. He wanted us to try to smooth things over with you.”

  “And this is your idea of sucking up?”

  He chuckled. “No. This is simply us extending an olive branch. Giving you a chance.”

  I raised a brow. “I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving you all a chance.”

  He shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “Well, I’m afraid I didn’t make the best impression either. I’m sorry about the sloth incident. I didn’t realize you were so germophobic.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I even realized how rude they probably sounded.

  Ben glanced at me with an amused smirk. “I’m not germophobic. But do you even know how many microorganisms we’re passing back and forth simply by linking arms and sharing airspace? Do you know how sick you could get from coming in contact with that sloth’s droppings?”

  “Do you?” I countered sassily.

  He frowned at me. “Obviously. Hence my bringing it up.”

  “How’d you learn any of that, anyway?”

  His tanned cheeks flushed slightly. “Research. Reading...”

  I chuckled. “What do you do, read encyclopedias for fun?”

  The blush intensified, and I was shocked to find my joke had apparently been true. Prince Benson was a man of intelligence and learning. Who’d have guessed?

  “I read books too,” I blurted out before thinking it through. “I mean they’re mostly smutty romances with no educational value whatsoever. Unless, of course, we’re talking sexual education, in which case...” I needed to shut the fuck up.

  He cleared his throat and gestured ahead to where Dan stood with his hand
s in his pockets, waiting at the foot of the grand staircase.

  “Dan’s turn.”

  Oh, thank the freaking gods. My loose-lipped moment of idiocy was almost over.

  “See you later, Alexis.”

  “Later, Ben.”

  As Ben walked away, Dan came over to meet me. He placed a gentle kiss on each of my cheeks, lighting my skin on fire, then took my hand and pulled me up the stairs.

  “Where are we walking to this time?”

  “Walking?” he asked over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Walking is for friends. Dancing is for lovers.”

  Chapter 5

  At the last step, a panoramic view of the grand ballroom took over my entire line of sight.

  Everything was shiny, elegant, and rich, from the diamond chandeliers to the polished marble floor; from the massive stained-glass windows to the jewel-encrusted balconies overhead.

  “We are not lovers,” I reminded him as I marveled at the scene around us. “And we are not dancing.”

  He tugged on my hand, and our bodies were suddenly flush against each other. “Not yet we’re not.”

  Then we were moving, gliding across the dance floor with the grace of birds on a breeze or fish in a stream or, hell, even snakes in the sand.

  Had I ever learned a formal dance even once in my entire life? No. Did it seem to matter? Apparently not. With Dan holding me tightly and leading the way, all my feet had to do was follow. It was surprisingly exhilarating.

  We danced until I was out of breath and laughing, completely remiss to the fact that he was a royal prince and I was just a poor girl from the mines. He had a way of making me forget how inadequate I was. He made me feel desirable, despite my meager upbringing.

  When we finally stopped, I grabbed a glass of water from a table off to the side, grinning at Dan as he did the same.

  “So, tell me about you,” I said as I caught my breath.

  “What about me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything. What are some of your favorite things?”

  He tsked. “Sorry, Sexy Lexi. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t get personal.”

  I pursed my lips, feeling the burn of rejection stinging through my veins.

  “So, you’ll tell me all about how you want to fuck me in every room of the palace, but when it comes to telling me your favorite color, that’s just too damn personal?”

  He chuckled but had the decency to look contrite. “I don’t do relationships, Lexi. I’m always up for a night of fun, but anything more is... not going to happen.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What if I pick you? You’ll have no choice but to ‘do a relationship.’”

  He scoffed. “You’re not going to choose me. I’m not even close to marriage material. You’re poor, not stupid.”

  Then he winked at me and cocked his head toward the grand staircase, where Rob was leaning against the wall, tattooed arms crossed, staring coldly at us.

  Great.

  “Have fun on your last date,” he teased, leaning in to kiss my cheek. But instead, his lips met with the sensitive skin of my neck, shooting a rippling wave of heat straight to my clit like lightning.

  I couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped my lips at the sensation of his mouth on my body.

  “We might not be lovers yet,” he reiterated, referring to our earlier conversation, “but we will be soon.”

  Then he walked away, leaving me with the brooding badass who hated my fucking guts.

  Rob stared at me for a long while, neither of us speaking or moving, maybe not even breathing. The strong scent of alcohol was evident even from where I stood, not to mention his glassy eyes and slightly swaying stance. He was apparently not kidding earlier about needing a stiff drink. He’d probably been drinking his miserable self senseless this whole time.

  I rolled my eyes and turned away in disgust. Not that I had any issues with alcohol, because I didn’t. I just mostly had a problem with him, because of him having a problem with me. Did it make sense? No. Did I freaking care? Also, no.

  “Is our time up yet?” I asked with an extra dose of attitude. “I’m tired, and I’d really like to go to bed.”

  He glared at me even harder. “Then I’ll escort you to your room.”

  I could have laughed. I didn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground in this elaborate maze of a palace, but I damn well didn’t want his help in navigating it.

  “No, thanks. I can manage on my own.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Jewels, but I’m walking you whether you like it or not.”

  “Don’t call me Jewels,” I spat. “I hate jewels.”

  A wicked grin spread across his luscious lips. “And I hate you. So, Jewels it is.”

  It was like he’d slapped me in the face.

  I set my glass down, hiked up the hem of my emerald dress, and marched right over to him. “If you hate me so much, why the fuck would you want to walk me to my room? So you can force yourself on me? Because trust me, I’ll kick your balls so hard you spit them on the shiny floor if you try something so vile.”

  His eyes went wide. “Gods, Jewels, I’m not a fucking pervert. I was ordered to spend time with you, that’s all. From here to your doorway, and not an inch further, I swear.”

  I breezed past him and descended the stairs. “Yeah, well I don’t want your company.”

  “Yeah, well we don’t have a choice,” he said mockingly, galloping down the stairs behind me.

  I didn’t miss the fact that he’d said “we.” As in, he didn’t have a choice either.

  I marched down the hallway, still pissed at him but also a little curious now.

  "How does Daddy manipulate you so easily?" I asked. "Does he give you lickings?"

  "The fuck are lickings?"

  I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew what lickings were. Stupid prince.

  "You know, smacks. Like with a hand, a switch, or a belt? When you're naughty?"

  I suddenly realized I might've been playing with fire. Rob was the prince who I'd guessed was into darker things like bondage and sexual discipline. He might actually like the idea of abuse.

  "You mean, does my father beat me into submission?"

  I shrugged as casually as I could, despite the nervous excitement rushing through my veins. I'd never been into pain, myself, but for some fucked-up reason, where Rob was concerned... let's just say, I briefly entertained the idea. Briefly. Then I came back to my senses and remembered what a fucking dick he was.

  "No," he said, and his voice was bone-chillingly cold, "he doesn't beat me."

  There was something about the word “me” that had me reading between the lines. King Zacharias might not beat the princes, but did he beat other people? Servants? Lovers? Peasants? He certainly hadn’t stopped his guards from roughing me up a bit in the woods. And the rumor had always been that he'd hunted down and killed every person with godlike powers who wasn't a part of the Storm family line. He probably beat the shit out of those guys.

  Rob sighed heavily from somewhere far behind me. "Where are you going, Jewels?"

  "To my room," I snapped, glaring over my shoulder at him.

  He stood at a narrow staircase with his arms crossed, tapping his foot. He gestured to the stairs. "It's this way."

  I huffed. "Of course, it is. I was just planning on taking the second set of stairs."

  Ew. An even number. Even in a lie, I couldn’t believe I’d stooped so low.

  Rob raised a brow. "To the servant's quarters? I admit, it's where you belong, but unfortunately, it's not where you were placed."

  I spun around and marched past him, hoping I whipped him with the hem of my dress or my long dark hair as I turned and stomped up the proper set of stairs.

  I'd never been an indignant little brat back in Blackleaf. I'd never been one for throwing fits or acting childish. There was just something about this prickish prince that brought out the worst in me. Something that got me all sorts of pissed off over the stupid
est of things.

  When we reached the top level, I veered toward my door, and he stopped at his.

  "I trust you can make it the rest of the way all by yourself?"

  I sneered. "You're such a dickbag, you know that?"

  He grinned. "And you're a jewel-digging, crown whore. You think this place is seriously so much better than the shithole you left behind? Think again. Your life is about to get worse. Much worse."

  He slammed his door shut, and buddy, I slammed mine even harder.

  Gods, what an asshole!

  I paced around my room, trying to calm down, but I only riled myself up further.

  I needed to talk to Gemma. This was a time for a clubhouse meeting if ever there was one. Too bad there would be no damn clubhouse, anymore. And too bad I had no idea where to even find Gemma. She was my handmaiden. Wasn’t she supposed to lurking around every corner prepared to hand me something—drinks, in particular?

  Yes. I needed Gemma and a few stiff drinks.

  I snuck from my room as quietly as possible and tiptoed down the stairs. According to Rob-the-snob, the servants’ quarters were only one staircase away. Once I found it, I descended even lower to where the air was cooler and somehow lighter, despite the fact that it smelled a bit like smoke and grease.

  The hallways were narrower and not ornate in the slightest. The floor was unpolished stone, and the walls were a plain white, turned dirty brown from years’ worth of grime by the looks of it. People bustled across the hall from room to room with playing cards, cigarettes, coin purses, and glasses of liquor in random combinations in their hands.

  The girls mostly wore cutoff dresses that exposed their thighs, with their hair pinned up in curls with feather accents. The men were in suspenders and button-up shirts with most of the buttons undone, their hair loose and unkempt.

  It was definitely a party, something I’d never gotten to experience back in Blackleaf.

  I moved closer, deeper into the fun, but as soon as the first servant saw me, everyone froze. The girl rushed over to me and bowed deeply.

  "Miss Ravenel, how may I help you? May I escort you from the servants' quarters and into some place... cleaner?"

  I quickly shook my head. "No, no. I was just looking for my friend. Um, my handmaiden? Gemma Darrow. Have you seen her?"