by Lola Gabriel
“You fancy her, don’t you?” Ansel teased, and Maximus’ face turned red.
It was more than just “fancying” her. The thought of her made his chest ache with a pain like he had never known. Whatever it was that he felt for her, it was blocking his ability to think rationally.
Maximus pressed his fingers to his temples and massaged his head lightly, willing away the pounding from behind his eyes.
What am I going to do with her? he wondered, shaking his head. I have to find a way to get rid of her, or at the very least stop her paper from being published. But how?
The answer was obvious, of course, but it was not one Maximus was willing to entertain. He was the brains of the castle, not a warrior. His way was that of structure and strategy, not violence and revenge. How had he even gotten such a task? Why would his father ever believe he was the one of his six sons who could kill a civilian, threatened or not?
Maximus turned away from the glass to flop onto the king-sized bed. At the same time, he was grateful King Rui had not assigned another one of his brothers to the mission. Poet would not stand a chance against any other one of them.
You must figure something out, he thought grimly. She needs to leave England and never return. She needs to forget about dragons and her entire area of study. She needs to forget about you, too.
The last part made Maximus feel sick to his stomach. It made him realize that the only way to keep Poet safe was to find a remote part of the world where neither he nor anyone else in his family could find her.
Maximus knew what he was hoping was impossible. In the short time he had known Poet, he could see that she was a passionate woman, not apt to walk away from her research. He wondered if he was deluding himself into believing that she cared about him just as much.
She has no idea just how much danger she’s in, he thought mournfully. An idea abruptly came to his mind, and he sat up on the bed. I suppose I could tell her…
The thought was obscure and ridiculous. Poet had the idea that he was some descendant of the old dragons, the Williams clan from seven centuries earlier. She couldn’t possibly know the truth, no matter where her studies took her. Telling her would make her look at him differently, and Maximus wasn’t sure if he could handle that.
For once in his life, he deserved to be happy. And Poet made him happy.
But another voice mocked him, reminding him that a dead lover was no lover at all.
Maximus grunted aloud and flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He needed to rest. It seemed that he had not slept for more than three hours since he had found Poet. She was insatiable, waking him in the night with her hot mouth between his legs, her searing crotch against his naked rear, bringing him to heights he had not known he could find.
I’ll have a nap, he thought, and when I get up, I’ll go back to her flat. One way or another, I have to keep her away from Misty Woods. I’ll tell her what she needs to know, enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Maximus closed his eyes, and an image of Poet instantly popped into his mind. As if she was sitting in front of him, he saw her face, her eyes red and bloated. Her blonde hair was disheveled, and her lips were pale.
“Help me,” she whispered, and Maximus sat up on the bed, his heart hammering.
He blinked, looking around the room, seeking an explanation to what he had just seen. But there was no explanation to find. Poet was obviously not there, no matter how real her presence had seemed.
They had been inseparable for days. It was only fair that Maximus kept seeing her, even though they were miles apart.
Shit, I’m more tired than I thought, he sighed, sinking back against the pillows. When he closed his eyes again, Poet reappeared, her mouth parted.
“Why would you do this to me?” she moaned before disappearing from his sight. “I would never hurt you.”
Again, Maximus’ eyes flew open, his pulse racing. What was happening to him? Was he hallucinating?
He reached onto the nightstand where he had left his cell to charge and sent out a text to Poet.
I hope you’re enjoying class. See you tonight?
Maximus placed his phone on his breast pocket and waited for a response. He had messaged Poet maybe five times since they had gotten together, so he really could not attest to her response time, though he hoped it would be quick. He told himself to simply wait for the phone to vibrate on his chest—he did not want to be some weird stalkerish lover, messaging her unnecessarily, especially after they had left on tense terms.
You’re overtired, he reminded himself. Rest. She will get back to you when she’s done with class.
But as Maximus fell into a fitful sleep, he could not shake the feeling that Poet was in trouble.
The pounding on the door caused Maximus to jump from his bed, and his first thought was that it was Poet. He leaped from the bed and threw open the door, wondering how she had known where he was staying.
Instead, he was shocked to see who stood before him.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded as the same two members of Poet’s security team he had met earlier stormed his hotel room.
“Where is she?” the taller one snarled, pushing his way inside. “Where is the princess?”
Maximus gaped at them in disbelief.
“Haven’t you gotten yourselves into enough trouble for one day?” he snarled. “Get out of my room! This is harassment.”
“You haven’t the foggiest concept of harassment!” cried the other guard. “Where is the princess?” Maximus heard the urgency in his words.
“She isn’t here. She has class today,” he snapped, glancing suspiciously at the men. “Why are you here?”
“No, she isn’t in class,” snarled the taller guard. “She never made it to school, and she’s not in her flat. She’s missing.” He threw open the bathroom door. “Where is she?”
A feeling of foreboding filled Maximus’ gut.
“I don’t know!” he insisted, his mind working furiously as she remembered the look of panic on Poet’s face in his dream state. She had been calling out for him somehow, and he had ignored it. Guilt and worry flooded him. “I swear to you, I don’t know where she is,” he said again, trying to keep his composure.
“You’re coming with us,” the first man growled, seizing his arms.
Maximus effortlessly shrugged him off and watched as the guard reached for his baton.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “How did you know where to find me? Obviously, you’ve been tailing me, too.”
“No, smartass,” the officer retorted. “You texted her, and we tracked your phone.”
A sudden feeling of dizziness swept through Maximus. “She doesn’t have her phone with her?”
“Nothing. Her handbag, her coat, and her laptop are still in her flat. She’s disappeared into thin air, and you are the last person to have seen her. You are coming with us to Scotland Yard. Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”
Consternation filled him, and Maximus allowed himself to be led out of his hotel room and into their waiting vehicle, his mind swirling.
Poet, oh my God! Where are you? he called out to her, but there was no answer.
“What did she say to you?” the driver demanded as they pulled away from the Old Parsonage parking lot. “Who did she say she was meeting?”
“No one. She said she was going to class. I left before she went,” Maximus replied. “Are you sure she hasn’t just gone to the grocery—?”
“You think we’re amateurs, Mr. Williams?” the smaller guard growled. “Naturally, we checked the neighborhood before sounding alarms.”
“Well, you should be looking for her, not detaining me!”
“You seem like a viable start.”
Maximus knew they were wasting their time with him, but he couldn’t think of where else Poet could be.
Has Father sent someone else to take care of her in my place?
The sudden thought terrified
him, and Maximus knew he would never be able to live with himself if that was the case.
“I need to make a phone call,” he said, reaching for his phone inside his breast pocket.
“No!” yelled the guard in the passenger seat. “No phone calls until we get to the station! Give me your mobile.” He reached for the device, but Maximus snatched it out of his reach.
“You have no right to arrest me!” he snapped back, but he reconsidered his call. He did not want the King’s Guard overhearing.
“You have no idea of what we are going to do to you if you don’t tell us where she is,” the driver spat back.
Maximus tried to calm himself. Maybe Poet had gone for a walk after he had left. There had to be a sound explanation for where she was. They were all overreacting.
But as the car approached the legendary police station, Maximus had a terrible feeling that things were about to get much worse.
“Get out,” the driver told him, “and don’t do anything stupid.”
“If Poet is missing, I want her found, you imbecile!” Maximus barked at him. “I am not going to cause more problems in her search.”
“That is Princess Poet to you, and mind your tongue! You have no idea what the King of Luxe will do to you if you have harmed his daughter.”
“I would never harm Poet,” Max muttered, following the men into the station. They either did not hear him or ignored him.
“This way,” a constable at the desk said, seeing the King’s Guard uniforms. “The representative from the embassy is this way.”
The men nodded, casting Maximus a scathing look, as if they expected him to bolt.
If I wanted to get out of here, Maximus thought furiously. I would burn this entire place down.
Of course, he said nothing, willing himself not to shift in his anger. It would benefit no one if he transformed. He needed information as much as the guards did.
Through the halls they wove until Maximus was placed inside an interrogation room, where a pinched face woman with dark hair rose upon their entry.
“Sit down, Mr. Williams,” she said sternly. “I am Serena Milian from the Luxe embassy. Gentlemen, you are free to leave and continue your search.”
“We have questions of our own for Mr. Williams,” the taller guard announced, reaching for a chair.
“They will have to wait,” the woman replied shortly, casting them a cutting look that seemed to freeze both guards in their place.
“But we—”
“Go,” Serena snapped, and they spun, clearly unnerved by her presence. They disappeared, muttering something indecipherable to themselves, leaving Max with the woman. The representative turned to him, her dark eyes cold. “Where is she, Mr. Williams?”
“I have no idea,” Maximus growled. “And this is a waste of time! Let me leave so I can go to her usual spots and look for her.”
Serena peered at him with narrowed brown eyes, studying his face.
“How long have you known the princess?” she asked, ignoring his request.
“Five days.”
“And how did you meet?”
“I understand you are just as concerned as I am about her—”
“Please answer the question, Mr. Williams.”
“I met her at the Cloak and Clock near the university. Some people were bothering her, and I intercepted.”
Serena’s coffee eyes were almost invisible through the slits of her lids. “Who was bothering her?”
“I don’t know,” Maximus answered, unable to recall the people who had been with Poet that night, much less their names. “I don’t know her friends.”
Serena Milian sat back, folding her arms across her chest.
“You don’t know much about the princess,” she said, “and yet you seem to have taken to her residence quite quickly, haven’t you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question or would you like me to spell out the details of our sex life to you?” Maximus snapped. He knew he shouldn’t be so defensive, that it only made him appear guilty, but his frustration was increasing with each second. They were wasting precious time.
Serena seemed to sense his anger and changed the course of her questions. “You’re not from here, are you, Mr. Williams?”
“No, madam, I’m not.”
At that moment, her phone chimed, and she picked it up off the metal table, her eyes widening in shock.
“What is it?” Maximus demanded as she punched back a text with unsteady fingers. “Is that about Poet?”
Serena didn’t answer immediately, finishing her message before she turned to him.
“Mr. Williams, you are free to go,” she told him. “I imagine we can find you at the Old Parsonage Hotel again if we need you. Please don’t leave town.”
“Wait a second!” Maximus exploded. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what that text was about!” The woman’s thin mouth pursed into an even finer line. “What happened?” Maximus demanded, slamming his fists on the table. To Serena’s credit, she did not flinch, but her face contorted into a pained expression.
“I’m afraid the princess has been kidnapped,” she muttered.
“Kidnapped?” Maximus choked. “How can you know?”
Serena Milian sighed deeply and hung her head. “Because the king just received a demand for thirty million pounds in ransom.”
9
Why would he do this to me?
The anguish Poet felt had nothing to do with the fact that she was trapped in a dank cellar, bound and blindfolded, her eyes still burning from the mace powder that had been thrown into her eyes. No, it had everything to do with the fact that the man she had so stupidly allowed into her life had turned on her.
She was a trusting fool. She knew what he was, and she had still allowed herself to be steered away from the inevitable by her raging arousal. And now she was going to die for it.
It seemed so hard to believe that Max had faked everything she had felt between them, but what other explanation was there? Why had he even bothered with the theatrics of a kidnapping?
He could have killed me anytime, she thought, and yet he didn’t. Why? Is he having second thoughts? Maybe I can still talk him out of it if so.
Nearby, Poet heard the scrape of a chair against concrete.
“I can hear you there,” she choked, her voice raspy and dry. “Just kill me and get it over with! Don’t be such a coward!” She instantly regretted the feisty words, anticipating the sudden death she faced.
To her surprise, though, Max did not answer.
There was a slight tittering, and Poet suddenly realized there was more than one other person with her. Where had Max brought her? Who else was in the room? Her heartache was suddenly overcome by panic, and she lifted her head to listen more closely to the voices whispering at her side.
“I can hear you!” she bellowed with as much ferocity as she could manage, despite the fact that her heart hammered harder than she had ever known it to do.
My God, I’m going to have a coronary right here, she thought, willing herself to be calm.
She heard footsteps approaching, and a hand reached out to caress her face. No one said a word to her directly. There was more whispering, and Poet was filled with insurmountable terror. Why weren’t they speaking to her?
“Just let me go,” she told her kidnappers, trying to keep the pleading from her voice. “I haven’t seen you, nor do I know who you are or why you’ve taken me.”
She hoped they believed her.
Is one of Max’s brothers here? she asked herself. Is there more than one of them? What are they going to do with me?
Poet strained her ears to make out the murmuring, closing her eyes behind the blindfold as if to strengthen her hearing.
“… tomorrow… the tube…”
What is happening tomorrow in the underground? Poet wondered, trying to make sense of the whispers.
“Please,” she tried again softly. “There’s no need for any of this. It’s not too late.�
��
“… something to shut her up…”
“… gag, but…”
Poet realized what was coming and quickly clamped her mouth together in anticipation.
God dammit, Max, why did you need to do this? she wanted to scream. I would never have told anyone about you or your family. I thought we had a connection. Help me! Don’t let me die here!
But she said none of her thoughts aloud, her pride forbidding her from begging for her life. She would go down strong, not sniveling.
Poet waited for the gag to fall over her mouth. However, it did not come, and she suddenly noticed that the voices had faded away.
Straightening her lithe body, she cocked her head to the side, listening closely to ensure she was alone. For all she knew, someone was sitting nearby, watching her every move. Even so, Poet knew she had to at least try and get away.
She wrestled against the binds, twisting her wrists against the rope pinning her arms squarely behind her back. Whoever had tied them had known what they were doing.
So what if you bleed a little, she pep talked herself. It will be well worth it when you get the hell out of here.
As Poet fought against her binds, she tried to imagine where she had been taken. From the doorway of her flat, she had been whisked down the stairs and into the back alley, where her body had been jammed into the trunk of a vehicle. It couldn’t be Misty Woods—the car trip hadn’t been long enough. They were most likely still in London.
Poet breathed in, trying to get a whiff of something that could help her identify the building in which she was being housed. All she could smell was stale air and muskiness. Old London, perhaps.
Frustration built in her bones, her teeth grinding together as Poet struggled harder against her ties, which did not want to budge. It seemed like the more she fought, the tighter they became. After a few minutes, Poet’s arms were chaffed, and she could feel blood pouring through her slender fingers. She was no closer to being free than she had been when she started.
And when they come back, she thought, still not knowing who “they” were, they are going to see I’ve been trying to get loose. What will they do to me then?
