Long Live The King Anthology: Fifteen Steamy Contemporary Royal Romances

by Vivian Wood

  Then again there’s something hard and right about this moment. The two of us alone, the same way we began. There’s no lake near us, only the shared nightmare of water. No trees around us except the walls of the Den.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Have a seat,” he says, pulling out a chair.

  It feels ominous, that invitation.

  I sit in the wooden chair with its leather cushion anyway. Nowhere near as heavenly as the one downstairs, but just as lush, just as expensive. The sequins on my dress pull against the leather as I scoot into place.

  “Now,” he says, taking his seat opposite me. “For the bet. What shall we wager? Something large. You were concerned about size, I recall.”

  A flush heats my cheeks. “That’s why I’m doing this. So I don’t have to worry about Daddy gambling again. So I don’t have to be afraid.”

  He hesitates for one sweet moment, as if he might bring us to a stop. Then he continues on as if he never stopped, unpackaging the fresh deck, shuffling them quickly.

  With a small flourish he sets the deck down. “Cut it.”

  I pick a random spot and cut the deck in half. He folds it over.

  “I accept your terms,” he says softly. “If you win you get freedom from worry. From fear. No one will ever be able to use you against your will again.”

  Does that mean money? How much money? I’m almost afraid to ask, because the truth is no amount of money will make me stop being afraid. No amount of money will stop the nightmares. It’s not money that will save me—it’s power.

  “What would you win?” I ask, not sure this question is any better.

  “Your father,” he says, surprising me. “He stays with me. He disappears.”

  My mouth drops open. “What?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. You should even be glad. Either way you’re free of him, of the gambling and the lies. The weakness. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  In this moment what I want is…him. Whether he’s the wild boy or the perfectly handsome Damon Scott, he’s always been kind to me. Playful and brooding, his touch in turns coaxing and commanding. He only turned cruel once he tortured his father.

  Once he became his father, which was all Jonathan Scott wanted.

  “What would you want with Daddy?” I say, my voice trembling.

  “Does it matter what I do with him? He didn’t ask questions when he used you as his bet into the game. I suppose he didn’t need to ask questions.” Dark eyes run over my body, as if he can see through the sequins and the thin black fabric. As if he sees my heart beating rapid-fire under my ribs. “It’s fairly obvious what we would do with you.”

  I understand then what this is. A test of my will.

  He has to put something on the line, something I would hate to lose. And I almost stop. Because who am I to bet my father’s life? Then again, who was he to bet mine? If I do this, I’ll become just as bad as him. Maybe that’s the point.

  Making me turn into my father the way he turned into his.

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Three rounds,” he says, dealing the cards.

  My first hand starts weak—nothing with a queen high. With new cards I end up with a king, which his three of a kind queens easily beats. He wins the first round.

  Staring at him, I swallow. That means I have to strip. I have to take off a piece of clothing. With shaking hands I remove a red bangle Jessica loaned me from my wrist.

  He laughs softly. “Does that count?”

  “Doesn’t it?” I ask, arching my eyebrow, daring him to argue.

  I win the second round with two pairs, relief pouring over me.

  His eyes glint. “What should I remove?”

  I shrug, expecting him to take off his watch. His shoes. There are so many innocuous things he could remove on such a finely dressed man. The only thing missing from him is his jacket, which he removed when we entered the room.

  Standing, he reaches for the button at his collar. Oh God, he’s going to remove his shirt. My skin suddenly feels prickly and too tight. The tendons in his hands move subtly as he undoes each button, revealing a sliver of golden skin and a hint of dark hair.

  When the buttons are finished he pulls the hem from his pants, letting the two halves of white linen hang open. His masculine figure takes my breath away. Power, exactly the way I dreamed about.

  Then his hands move to his wrists, where he works at the cufflinks.

  They drop onto the table in front of me. Curious because they aren’t sterling silver or even gold. They’re this deep copper color, blackened at the edges.

  Realization washes over me, as potent and clear as an ocean wave.

  It’s a penny. A real penny that has been attached to a bracket, melded to make this cufflink that he wears on his body. I pick one up and find it warm.

  My gaze rises to meet his. “Where is this from?”

  I already know the answer, but it still makes me shiver to hear him say, “They’re two of the breadcrumbs you left me. So I never forget.”

  From the haunted look I know he never would have.

  It might be a memory, but it’s also a punishment. Is that what I mean to him?

  He shrugs his powerful shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. The only other time I saw him shirtless was when I had just been attacked. I couldn’t look close. Only now can I see his tattoos clearly. And only now can I see the scars between them. Elaborate scrolls and dragon scales. They’re beautiful, and they almost, almost distract from the silvery lines between them. Scars.

  I stand, sick to my stomach. “He did that to you.”

  “Are you surprised?” he asks, his voice low and taunting. “Are you disgusted by me?”

  He sounds so casual, but I know that’s not real. He hates them. Hates them so much he’s covered them up with miles of ink—still never enough. How many people have seen him this way? How many women have actually seen him naked?

  How many suits does he wear to hide his past?

  I reach out a hand. “Damon, please.”

  He turns away with a rough sound. “We aren’t here to talk about my father. We’re here to play a final hand for yours.”

  There’s bile in my throat. I’m sick looking at him, how beautiful he is, how broken. Except he holds himself away from me, his body straight, muscles tight.

  Reluctantly I sit down across from him.

  My voice comes out halting. More sincere than I’ve ever been with him. Tears prick my eyes. “I’m sorry. That I sent you back there. I was sorry every day of my life.”

  “Don’t be,” he says softly. “I was never sorry I did that.”

  “And now?”

  He deals the final hand. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  The cards look like snakes to me. Deadly. Poisonous. I don’t want to touch them. They’re the root of everything ugly in my life—gambling and risk. Money.

  How could anything this dark actually help me?

  Of course the slick coating on the thin cards feels the same in my hands when I pick them up. There’s nothing different about the cards. I’m the one who’s changed.

  A straight flush. An incredible hand, minus one card.

  It seems impossible. I have to keep my eyes down so he doesn’t see my excitement. My nervousness. Because this can’t be real. It’s like I’m dreaming the six of hearts. The seven, the eight, and the ten. The last card doesn’t suit, I’m hovering on the edge of a precipice.

  I push the fifth card down and receive a new one.

  I’m sure fangs will sink into my skin if I reach for it. Poison will spread through my veins. Calm down, I tell myself. It’s just a game. But I learned a long time ago that it’s more than that. It’s hunger and it’s pain. Or it can be survival.

  My hand is strangely steady as I reach for the last card. Even if it bites me I have to know. I lift the card, struggling to breathe. Struggling to see. Adrenaline blurs the nine. The hearts. I got it. The straight flush.

/>   A beautiful, perfect hand.

  Elation runs through me. In that moment I know exactly why Daddy gambles. It’s impossible not to love this, not to become this wild triumphant creature. Intellect may make us human, but this desperate desire for risk keeps us animal.

  Damon’s eyes glint dark in the lamplight. “You look pleased,” he says.

  And he doesn’t look worried.

  Because he wants me to win? Or because he knows he can beat me.

  I put down my cards. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react beyond a genial nod of his head, acknowledging a good hand. “Well played, baby genius. Not good enough, but still. A very good showing.”

  One thud in my chest. Another. Painfully slow, time crawling now.

  “How?”

  He tosses down his cards with casual superiority. A royal flush. The only thing that could have beaten my cards, almost. And nearly impossible. The odds…

  God, the odds.

  Randomness doesn’t play favorites. That ace of spades is as likely to appear as any other card. The king, the queen. Except when you put the odds together, they multiply. They become infinitely smaller. Like in calculus, they approach zero—never quite reaching it.

  My breath comes short. “You cheated.”

  He laughs. “How do you know? Did you see me do something?”

  My mind races, a hundred numbers swirling around, a thousand of them clamoring for attention. It’s really the simplest one that has the answer. The cards that we played. My hand of nothing, queen high. His three of a kind, queens.

  “The queens. They’ve all been played.”

  Which means the one sitting in front of us right now, it doesn’t belong in the deck. Whether he modified the deck beforehand or whether he used sleight of hand to insert it, that queen doesn’t belong in this deck. And I’m willing to bet the entire hand is fake.

  “I don’t see how you can prove it,” he says, his voice mocking.

  I stand up. “If you’re cheating the game doesn’t count.”

  He stands too, reaching for his shirt. Putting it back on, like armor. Covering up the scars of the past and all that beautiful vulnerability. “Oh, the game most definitely counts. Your father is forfeit. And you, my sweet Penny, are free to go.”

  I hope you loved reading Damon and Penny’s emotional book.

  SIGN UP FOR SKYE WARREN’S NEWSLETTER:

  http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

  Read the conclusion of their duet with the epic full-length novel THE QUEEN. Find out what happens when in this game of lies and loyalty, of betrayal and power.

  Damon Scott is my own personal dragon, the fight I’ve always lost, the secret hope of my heart. And he needs my help right now. Only my mind can solve the puzzle. Only my presence can keep him sane as the city fights against him.

  Only my heart can unlock a man with such a tragic past.

  This is my final gamble, with everything at stake. One last game to win a future for both of us. And a love strong enough to break the city apart.

  ONE CLICK THE QUEEN NOW >

  About the Author

  Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground and Stripped series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.

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  His Virgin

  Vivian Wood

  Chapter One

  Meredith Fields frowned while looking at her reflection in the antique full-length mirror. She looked like a stripper in the skimpy cobalt blue sequined dress she was wearing. Her breasts were dangerously close to being fully exposed, and the hem barely covered her butt. A daring cutout across her stomach displayed even more skin, and to top it all off, the dress was backless.

  Ugh, she groaned silently.

  She wasn't a fan of wearing revealing outfits. Plus, the heavy makeup she had applied made her feel even more self-conscious. But she'd wanted to go all out for the vintage-themed party she was attending that evening with her best friend, Lily Waldorf.

  After all, many high-profile people would certainly be in attendance. Thanks to Lily's well-connected family, they would be partying with politicians, actors, and models tonight.

  “Oh, come on! You look hot,” Lily said reassuringly after seeing Meredith scowling at herself in the mirror. She stood next to her, wearing a silver version of Meredith's dress, putting on a pair of glittery hoop earrings.

  “I know,” Meredith responded confidently, then twirled on her heels and checked her reflection once more.

  She had to admit, she was looking pretty good. The rich jewel tone blue of the dress really complemented her complexion.

  “Are you sure you're not coming to Bali?” Lily asked as she checked her makeup one last time in the mirror.

  Meredith's face fell at the reminder that she would be spending her entire summer back in Washington, D.C. She'd just completed her degree in journalism from Columbia University, and was supposed to be spending the rest of the year enjoying a well-deserved vacation. But her father had made her a very tempting offer – come back to D.C. and work for him over the summer, and he would release her trust fund early.

  It had hardly been a choice at all. She could spend several years partying with that amount of money. And she figured two months would pass before she knew it.

  “Yeah, I'm sure. As much as I really want to go with you, this is the first time my dad's made me an offer like this. So I think I should take him up on this before he changes his mind,” Meredith replied while rolling her eyes.

  She didn't expect him to cancel the deal on her, but she supposed anything was possible. After all, she'd never imagined he would have budged an inch when it came to her trust fund. She wasn't supposed to see a penny of that money until she was thirty, but that seemed so far away. Plus, Meredith figured she'd be married with kids by then, and her carefree days of partying and drinking would be long behind her.

  “Your dad's a pretty wise person,” Lily commented with a chuckle.

  “He is,” Meredith responded after applying another layer of blood-red lipstick. “And he really knows how to push my buttons,” she muttered under her breath.

  Yep, Benedict Percival Fields was the shrewdest person Meredith had ever known. He owned the largest newspaper company in the country. Meredith had learned the ins and outs of the industry from an early age, but she'd still wanted to earn a degree in journalism. That way no one could say she wasn't qualified to work at her father's company.

  She just didn't want to waste the best years of her life slaving away at a desk job. Going straight from university to the workforce wasn't exactly how she had envisioned life after graduation. Thoughts of Bali and an easygoing summer spent partying in the sand had given her life during her final exams.

  But she didn’t have a choice, did she?

  “So, what's this deal of his entail?” Lily asked.

  Meredith shrugged, still checking out their reflections. The two of them would surely stand out tonight in their outfits, but somehow she was starting to feel less self-conscious. The dress emphasized her curves just as much as it showed some skin, and she knew she looked good. The nervousness she felt was starting to give way to excitement.

  “I don’t know the details. We haven’t talked about it yet,” she answered.

  Meredith moved to take a seat on the bed and stared admiringly at Lily's waist-length, fiery red hair. Lily's tanned skin looked
stunning in her silver dress. She could tell that Lily was excited for tonight's event as well.

  It figured. Lily was the number one partygoer she had ever met.

  “Enough about me. What about you? How are things going with your family?” Meredith asked, carefully strapping on a pair of black high heels.

  Lily's expression immediately turned sour. Meredith knew she never liked to think about family matters. It wasn't because she didn't care about them. It was just because she almost never saw either of her parents.

  They were too busy to even remember she existed.

  And that was probably a big part of why Meredith and Lily had hit it off so well after meeting at freshman orientation. Meredith often lamented over how overbearing her parents could be. On the other hand, Lily was desperate for her parents' attention.

  “Still the same as ever,” Lily responded, rolling her eyes and sighing before sitting next to Meredith on the bed. “I told them I'm going straight to Europe after my Bali trip and the only response I got was, 'Okay honey, have fun.'”

  “That's it?” Meredith's eyes widened reflexively, although she wasn't surprised. In truth, she felt envious. She'd often wondered how nice it would be to have the freedom to do whatever she wanted without the fear of disappointing her parents.

  “Yeah. It makes me sick.”

  “Aren't you happy? I mean, at least you get to do whatever you want.”

  “I don't know. Of course Bali and Europe are going to be fun. But I still don't know what I want to do with my life, unlike you. You've got things all figured out. And I know you think your parents are pushy, but at least your dad cares enough about you to push you,” Lily murmured with a sad smile on her lips.

  Silence filled the room.

  Meredith didn't know what to say. Because at moments like this, it was Lily who made her see just how lucky she was to have parents like hers. And deep down, she knew Lily was right. Her father was just helping her out, trying to show her the right path to achieve her goals in life.