Forever Theirs

by Katee Robert

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Theo ran his hands up his friend’s chest. “I missed you.”

  “I’ve been gone less than forty-eight hours.”

  “What’s your point?” Theo took his mouth and wrapped a hand around Galen’s cock through his shorts, giving Galen a rough stroke. Being with Meg had been great, but this was something else altogether. He and Galen moved together as easily as breathing. They’d been fucking since before they could legally drive. Theo turned them around and shoved Galen against the bathroom counter hard enough to make the drawers rattle. “I’m sorry.”

  Galen watched him go to his knees through dark eyes. “No, you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not,” Theo agreed as he yanked Galen’s shorts off. He looked up his friend’s body and, fuck, he was something else. Powerful and brutal and sexier than he had any right to be.

  He was also wrong about this.

  They were good together. They were fucking great together.

  But they’d be better with Meg.

  He had no desire to make his pitch at the moment. They had time, and the desire dancing between them like a live wire was too strong to hold off. Theo had never been much good at reining himself in. Not when what he wanted was so damn close.

  He sucked Galen down hard, using just a hint of teeth that drove his friend wild. Theo loved this moment right before Galen lost control, loved sucking him off, loved the feeling of submission and power, all wrapped up in a tangled bow.

  Galen cursed. He gripped Theo’s hair and started moving, fucking his mouth with quick, rough thrusts. Words spilled from his lips just like they always did when he let himself off his leash. “You think you can suck me into submission, into forgetting who was riding your cock all night long? How many times did she make you come, Theo? How many ways did you fuck her?” He picked up his pace, hammering the back of Theo’s throat. “You selfish bastard, you had better suck my cock like you mean it. And when you’re through, I’m taking your ass right there in the sheets where you can still smell your fucking.”

  Galen used his grip on Theo’s hair to yank him off his cock. “On second thought, I’m not interested in waiting. The bed, Theo. Now.”

  Dorian Mikos studied the information laid out on his desk. Many years ago, he’d thought that the best way forward was to rule Thalania, and he’d paid the price for his mistake through years of exile. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The Mikos family would never sit on the throne, but if he played his cards right, they would be the power behind it.

  He gathered the photos and papers and left his office. Though Phillip Fitzcharles played a careful game with the public to keep them from turning on him, he’d allowed himself free rein in this part of the palace. Gone were the understated decorations, replaced by the paintings he favored, a mishmash with no regard for theme or period.

  Dorian very carefully didn’t let his disgust show on his face. Phillip was a tool, and tools had their uses. The man controlled the future king of Thalania, and as a result, he had to be handled carefully. Dorian would not see exile again. Not while he breathed.

  He knocked on the door to Phillip’s office and let himself in. “We have a problem.”

  Phillip didn’t look up from his desk. “There’s always a problem.”

  Dorian came to stand before the desk and strove for patience. These petty power games were beyond both of them, but Phillip still insisted on the formalities. He studied the other man as Phillip finished up. The Fitzcharles family’s line ran unbroken back to the origin of Thalania, and despite plenty of intermixing with various bloodlines, it ran true. They were all dark haired, tall, and attractive. The attraction just varied from person to person. Phillip looked like a whittled down version of his late brother—too thin, too pinched, too dull. He knew it, and the comparison never failed to provoke a response.

  That wasn’t what Dorian was here for today, though.

  Finally, Phillip pushed his paperwork aside and focused his watery blue eyes on Dorian. “Yes?”

  Dorian pulled the top photo out of the file and held it up. “There’s a girl.”

  The interest died in Phillip’s eyes. “I don’t care about a girl. They’re both men in their prime. Of course there are women.”

  The fool. He should know by now that Dorian wouldn’t bring him information that wasn’t confirmed several times over and important. Dorian bit back his impatience and pulled the next photo. “You misunderstand me, Phillip. She’s not just a girl one of them fucked. They both did.”

  Phillip froze. “Let me see that.” He grabbed the picture out of Dorian’s hand. The picture was slightly fuzzy since it had been pulled from a security camera, but there was no mistaking Galen and Theo, or that they were both entangled with the woman sitting between them. The next photo showed them leaving together, and the final one was them getting into a cab together.

  “I also have footage from the elevator confirming she went into their apartment and didn’t come out until morning.” The state she’d been in confirmed everything he needed to know.

  Galen would do anything for Theodore Fitzcharles III. That fool had turned his boy into a slavering guard dog who jumped when he said jump. His son, a fucking Mikos, catering to every whim. And his boy didn’t even have the ambition to use it to his advantage.

  Phillip flipped through the file, his thin lips moving as he read. Finally he closed it and set it down. “This could mean nothing.”

  Again, he smothered his irritation, giving Phillip a practiced smile. “Or it could mean everything. The girl is a weak link, and with the right leverage, we can use her to guide them onto the path we want them to take.” No one thought for a moment that Theodore would take his exile laying down. Dorian certainly hadn’t. He knew for a fact that Phillip intended to have him quietly killed once Edward was on the throne.

  They may not have that kind of time.

  Beyond that, if there was a way to salvage Galen’s status and bring him back into the fold, Dorian would ensure it happened. The boy had had his fun. It was time for him to stop fucking around and start dancing to the tune that made sense.

  If he cares about this girl, we can use her.

  Phillip finally nodded. “Get me confirmation.”

  Dorian never let his triumph show. “Of course, Phillip. That’s a brilliant plan.”

  5

  Three days passed in a fog. Meg couldn’t seem to focus. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts skated away from whatever she was working on and back to that apartment. To Theo. To Galen. Every shift she pulled at the bar, she half expected to turn around and find Theo lounging against a wall, heat in his blue eyes.

  But he never showed.

  It was good that he never showed.

  She was still furious about the money, her embarrassment and pride and relief all tangled up into a mess inside her. He might think he was doing her a favor, but all he’d done was keep the wolf from the door for one semester. In a few months, she’d be right back in the same place, laying sleepless in her bed and staring at her ceiling as she tried to make the numbers add up.

  They never did.

  She had to cut some of her hours once school started back up, which meant a cut in money that she couldn’t afford. There was never enough hours, never enough money, never enough.

  One problem at a time.

  If only life worked that way.

  Meg cleared a table, going through the motions while her mind was a million miles away. There was another thirty minutes before she could kick the stragglers out of the bar and close down. Cara was supposed to be here with her tonight, but her friend had come down with a nasty bug and spent the last six hours hugging her toilet. Since no one else could—or was willing to—cover for her, that meant Meg was closing alone. Again.

  She deposited the empty glasses in the back and went to check on the pair of guys in the corner booth. They’d been drinking for a couple hours, and if she was the fanciful sort, she would think t
hey were mobsters or something. They both wore black jeans and shirts, and one had a leather jacket draped over the seat next to him despite how warm and sticky the night was outside the pub’s air conditioning. They looked normal enough in a blah kind of way, but something about them had her fighting not to avoid their table.

  Meg pasted a smile on her face as she neared. “Can I get you two another drink?”

  “The check.” His words were flavored with a faint accent she couldn’t quite place.

  Thank God. She nodded, making sure none of her relief showed through her expression. “Sure thing.” Meg walked back to the computer and printed out their tab. She looked up and went still. The men were no longer in their booth. One had moved to stand just inside the door, and the other approached her with the kind of intent that sent alarm bells blaring through her head.

  She trusted her instincts. She couldn’t afford not to, not as a bartender, and not as a woman living alone. Meg glanced at the phone farther down the bar and decided that going for it might incite the kind of response in this man that she desperately wanted to avoid. She kept her smile firmly in place and slid the receipt across the bar to him. Where he couldn’t see, she palmed her phone and used her thumb to unlock it. If it was a damn flip phone, she could have texted without looking. She fumbled for the right app. Jonah didn’t live that far away. If she could text him for help, he’d come and sit with her until she was able to lock the doors.

  The man dropped cash on the bar but didn’t move away. “Your name’s Meg.”

  “That’s what it says on my name tag, so it must be true.”

  His lips quirked into a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his brown eyes. “Meg Sanders.”

  Ice dripped down her spine. He knew her last name. There was no way he could know her last name. “Who’s asking?”

  “I’m not asking. I’m telling you.” His smile grew. “It’s important you know who you’re dealing with before we go further in this conversation. I would hate for you to do something foolish and force me to hurt you.”

  Oh god.

  This wasn’t a robbery. Thieves didn’t bother to learn the names of the people they stole from. It also wasn’t some druggie wanting to get his jollies off with the bartender and refusing to take no for an answer. This was something else altogether. Galen’s warning flashed through her head. She hadn’t really taken him seriously. There were plenty of dangers for a single woman living alone. It was hard to fathom the kind of threat he’d worried would come for her.

  She should have paid better attention.

  “What do you want?” She tried to keep her voice even and uninterested, tried to prevent the panic crawling up her throat from bleeding into the rest of her body. Tried and failed.

  “I would think it’s obvious by now. We’re here for you.” He glanced over his shoulder and his partner flipped the lock on the front door. She knew that tone, knew that look. There would be no reasoning, no rational conversation. He wanted to hurt her, and he would enjoy doing it. Several of her mother’s boyfriends over the years had similar expressions right before things went very, very bad.

  Meg didn’t hesitate.

  She bolted, sprinting through the doorway and into the kitchen. Twin curses sounded behind her, but the bar slowed her would-be attackers down. She flew through the back hallway and out the door. Meg made it three steps into freedom before a rough hand closed around the back of her dress. Ripping fabric had never sounded so ominous.

  Her attacker grabbed her arm and slammed her into the wall next to the door. He didn’t seem disinterested now. No, with the fire in his eyes and breath hissing from his mouth, he looked downright demonic. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

  She tried to knee him in the balls, but he easily turned his hips to avoid the blow. He shook her hard enough that her head smacked the wall behind her. “Fool woman.”

  “We’re too open out here,” his partner said softly. “Get her back inside.”

  She fought. She kicked and screamed and punched. It didn’t matter. He hauled her around like a child throwing a tantrum, dragging her through the door and back into the bar. They hauled her to a chair in the middle of the room, where they zip-tied her wrists behind her back. The chair was icy against her bare back, her dress hanging from her in shreds.

  He grabbed her throat, rough fingers digging into the fragile skin there. “Be a good girl or we’ll zip-tie your ankles, too.”

  It would leave her completely helpless, far more so than she was now. She nodded as much as she was able to, cursing herself for not being faster. She could have made it if she hadn’t hesitated to run.

  He released her and fear gave her words flight. “I don’t have anything to steal. Take what’s in the till if you want, but it’s not much. Just take what you want and go.” Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this really was a mundane robbery.

  Liar. This is anything but mundane.

  He crouched in front of her, and he was tall enough that it brought his face almost even with hers. “We came here for you.”

  The one truth she didn’t want to face. Galen was right. I should have listened. Why didn’t I listen? Her mind went fuzzy with the screams she wouldn’t allow herself to voice. Meg pressed her lips together, fighting to think. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

  But the zip ties were tight enough that her fingertips tingled, a sure sign that she’d lose feeling in them before too long. The doors were locked. If she couldn’t get away from them with a head start, how was she going to do it while tied to a chair?

  Don’t panic.

  If only it was that easy to command her body’s response. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to look at first one of them and then the other. “What do you want?”

  “You know Theodore Fitzcharles III.”

  She stared. This couldn’t be happening. Oh god, this could not be happening. She hadn’t taken Galen all that seriously when he said being close to them was dangerous. Of course it was dangerous—to her head and her heart and her foolhardy body. She never actually thought it would be dangerous. Even if, rationally, she understood that Theo was the former Crown Prince of Thalania, he was so… Normal wasn’t the word, but it was the only one she had. He was just a rich man who made her crazy. She’d let herself believe that is all he was, because it was all she could handle.

  But if that was the truth, then she wouldn’t be tied to a chair right now.

  Apparently, he didn’t need a response, because he continued. “And Galen Mikos.”

  Meg tried and failed to swallow past her dry throat. “I wouldn’t say I know anything about them.”

  He ignored that. “You matter to them.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if you understand how the hookup culture works, but we just had sex. That’s it. I’m not dating either one of them. I’m never planning on seeing either one of them again.”

  “If that was true, Theodore wouldn’t be paying you. We wouldn’t have been sent here in the first place.”

  If I get out of this alive, I’m going to strangle you, Theo.

  Movement over the shoulder of the second man caught her eye. Meg barely had a chance to register that they weren’t alone when the man hit the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head. Galen stepped out of the darkness like some kind of avenging angel. “Get away from her.”

  The man shifted behind her and his hand came down to grip her bare shoulder. “Your father would like a word, Lord Mikos.”

  Galen stalked closer, seeming to grow with every step, the menace radiating from him sending panicked thoughts bleating through Meg’s head. It didn’t matter that his rage was focused squarely over her head. In that moment, she had no doubt that he was capable of killing someone—that maybe he already had—and that he wouldn’t lose sleep about it afterward.

  The man’s hand tightened on her shoulder and Meg couldn’t hold in a whimper of pain. Galen’s dark eyes flicked to her face and then to the source of her pain. H
e’d been pissed before. Now he looked downright lethal. “Get your hand off her.”

  “Lord Mikos—”

  “If you don’t stop touching her right fucking now, I’ll start by taking your hand, and that won’t be where I stop.”

  The man’s hand spasmed on her shoulder, but none of that emotion leaked into his voice. “Threats don’t become you.”

  Galen kept coming, his measured steps telegraphing the kind of violence Meg had only ever seen from a distance. If she thought for a second he was coming at her, she might have died on the spot out of sheer terror. The man behind her stepped back, dragging her and the chair with him, but he was too slow. Galen grabbed his wrist and twisted, the sick sound of bone breaking echoing through the quiet of the room. He planted a foot on the side of the chair and sent her skidding out of the way and then he was on her attacker.

  Meg tried to fling her hair from her face so she could see, but she only got glimpses of Galen’s fist rising and falling, of the fury coming off him in waves, of the meaty sound of contact as he punched the man over and over again. He wasn’t lost in a rage, though. There was only icy anger written across his face as he delivered each blow, a punishment for the offense of touching her.

  Oh my god.

  He lifted the man by the front of his shirt and shook him. “Feel free to deliver this message in detail to my father: no one touches Meg. You come for her again and a beating will be the least you’ll suffer.” He disappeared down the hallway, dragging first one man and then the other after him.

  Meg focused on drawing in air from a room that seemed to have none. She just… He just…

  What the hell was going on?

  Galen reappeared and moved quickly to her side. She couldn’t stop a flinch as he knelt next to her, couldn’t stop a sob from working its way through her chest, though she’d be damned before she let it past her lips. He went still, his dark eyes thawing. “I’m going to cut the zip ties, Meg.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he kept speaking in that soft, measured tone. “You’re safe, okay? They won’t be back.”