Wicked Prince: Book Two in the Territorial Mates Series

by Twomey, Mary E.

  I want to tell him everything, to confess the awful man my father is. I want to throw my arms around Ronin’s neck and sob for the horrors I’ve had to endure. I want to beg him not to let me go into the lion’s den. I know how the fae are. They are worse than the vampires because the fae will smile to your face, then slowly comment, inserting small cuts in your armor until you’re no bigger than a messy pile of bones. At least the vampires are forthcoming about their hatred. I can respect that. That’s why I don’t get too bent out of shape when Melinda comes after me. At least her hatred is genuine.

  Instead of telling Ronin any more truth, I slap what I hope looks like bravery on my face and squeeze his hand twice to let him know that even though I have to put my scared self away and be bold right now, I’m still in here, screaming and sobbing and clawing at the walls of my psyche.

  Then I let go of him and walk away before my feet betray me and keep me inside the fortress I’ve grown to love.

  3

  Life in the Ivorum Palace

  Alexavier

  I’m wearing my white military jacket, though honestly, it’s only because it makes me look the part of a royal. I only served one term, and General Klein didn’t allow me to do any fighting, no doubt on my parents’ orders. What Salem does is real military work. I’m more the model for the uniform. “She should be here by now. Shouldn’t she have come? It’s going to be daylight soon.”

  My mother laughs, sitting on the balcony where I’ve been pacing for the past hour. “Alexavier, your fiancée will come. I can’t wait to meet her. You’ve told me so little, I admit, I’m half-convinced she’s imaginary.”

  “She’s got a scar on her cheek. It’s quite vicious. From an animal attack. So when you see her, don’t mention it.”

  “You already told us as much. Honestly, it’s like you think we’re incapable of making a good first impression. She’ll be lovely, I’m—”

  The interruption is expected. After all, Mother’s uttered a few sentences. “Far better than that dreadful girl you brought home last year. What was her name? Useless? Ufer?” Father sifts through documents I told him to look through last week, and he’s only just getting to them after my fifth reminder.

  “Eunice,” I mutter. Father only talks freely around me, but sometimes I wish his words were filtered through some sieve of kindness. “You know her name. And don’t do that with Lily. That whittling away at her self-confidence thing. You know how it irks me. You’ll be polite and kind, because that’s what your future daughter-in-law deserves.”

  Father frowns as he studies a line on the parchment I can tell he doesn’t like. It’s no doubt the same one I came across, indicating that we didn’t send the amount of blood shipments to Drexdenberg that we charged them for. “It’s so strange to me still that you’re this taken with a woman after only a handful of months. Do you even know anything real about her?”

  The landscape is all soaring trees broken up by ivorum-spike towers that glisten when the sun hits them just so. I grip the ivorum railing as a carriage comes near the palace through the tall, spindly trees, but then turns left. My shoulders slump. “I know she’s for me, which is all you need to know. You both wanted me to choose a bride so I didn’t have to rule alone someday, and I’ve chosen. The bloodline is secure. The kingdom shall have its princess, who will one day be queen of Faveda.” Among other things.

  “That’s if I approve,” Father says while Mother quiets. She’s always quiet when I need her to speak in my defense. Then again, she hasn’t spoken up for herself in years. Not sure she sees a point in going up against Father, determined as he is to be the Alpha male in every room he enters.

  I scoff at the veiled threat. “It’s Lily or no one. You get to choose how long our bloodline lasts.”

  “Is that a threat?” He puts his hand on his broad chest, gasping like a true actor, but it’s Mother who was the actress before father married her. Politics is the flipside of the acting coin—a currency Father uses to its maximum when he belittles her and then parades her around to the people as if she’s the love of his life. Mother pretends like she loves him well enough.

  Her unwrinkled silk dress goes an inch above her heels, making her long body and long face that much more noticeable. “Your father doesn’t take kindly to being challenged. You know it’s easiest to obey.”

  I cast her half a smile. “Yes, Father, you’ve taught me the art of getting one’s way well enough. I will marry her, you will adore her, you will be civil, and I’ll hear nothing more on the subject.” My eyes scan the horizon, picking out a carriage here and there. It keeps getting my hopes up. What is taking them so long?

  Mother stands up next to me at the edge of the balcony, casting her gleaming smile on the villagers who wave at her from below. She puts her fingers to her lips and then waves at them, as if she’s blown a kiss. But she never does. It’s always faked, this connection she claims to feel for the people. The truth is, she’s isolated in the palace tower, not connected to much of anything or anyone. She kisses father like that too, and it irks me every time. Though, that much I understand. He treats her terribly, always speaking over her when she dares to speak in his presence at all, and talking down to her, as if she’s too stupid to understand normal things.

  Whatever. Not my marriage. Not my problem. Let them fake their kisses and their affection for the public. Fine by me.

  Lily kisses me like I’m the thing helping her draw breath. I’ll be damned if we end up air-smooching like Mother and Father do for the public now, moments before shooting snide comments under their breath at each other.

  My eyes catch on Salem running through the marketplace in his enormous gray wolf form. My grin can’t be helped when the fae scatter, afraid of getting too near the “filthy” shifter. Everything is lined in white down the main thoroughfare, and most of the people are wearing the traditional spotless, colorless clothes my kin are known for. Seeing dark blue jeans on Lily was the best kind of scandal.

  Father’s upper lip curls when he notices Salem heading in our direction. “Why doesn’t he use a carriage? He’s only upsetting everyone, prowling around Faveda out in the open like that. It’s vulgar.”

  “Vulgar? Wow. I didn’t know it was possible to run vulgarly. I’ll be sure to tell him to run like a proper gentleman.”

  “Don’t waste your breath on the brute. Keep him out of the dining room. It’s no wonder he’s never found a mate. A man of his age,” Father scolds.

  Mother comes to his aid, though I never understand why she bothers. “You know how dirt stains in the palace upset your father.”

  Father circles something on the page. “I swear, you’d think Prince Salem was trying to muddy up the place.”

  Well, he is.

  I wave wildly enough to garner a nod from Salem as he runs toward the palace. I’m grinning like a little boy that I finally have an ally. My feet are quick as I run down the steps, offering up what I hope is a friendly nod at the guards in charge of the front gates. They never give Salem any trouble—he is a prince, after all—but Salem doesn’t like to deal with them any more than they like to see his face on our land, so I fling open the front doors and welcome my friend with a hearty, “Prince Salem, how good it is to have you here. The guards were just readying to bow. Don’t hold back, now. Go on.”

  They hate it when I do that. Makes me laugh every time.

  I clap Salem on the back a few times before ushering him inside past the line of bowing soldiers. He doesn’t want to deal with my parents, so we head to my room, which is in its own wing of the ivorum palace that sparkles like a pearl in the sunlight. Pays to be an only child, I guess.

  The second we’re alone, he shifts onto two legs, smoothing his gray hair out of his eyes. He refuses to look at me, no doubt because he doesn’t want to see me gaping at his getup.

  Salem wears exactly one outfit, and it never changes. Jeans, combat boots and his olive-green military shirt over a black undershirt. In battle, occasionally he�
��ll wear his jacket, but only if his brother makes him. His chin-length gray hair is always a little greasy, but that’s typical shifter hygiene, which is only compounded by the fact that the whole of Jacoba has been suffering a drought for far too long.

  I can barely find words as he stands before me in his usual jeans and boots, paired with a light blue cowl neck sweater. The knitted thing looks like it belongs on a man who smokes a pipe and comments on the finer things in life, which has never been Salem, who doesn’t prefer to comment on much of anything. His hair has been recently washed and cut short, buzzed in back with only two inches of spiky gray on top. There isn’t the usual five days’ worth of crud under his fingernails. “Salem, what… You look… It’s…”

  He never turns the full brunt of his snarl on me, but his upper lip begins to curl as his hackles raise. “I wouldn’t go finishing those sentences if ye know what’s good for ye.”

  I cross my arms and then press my finger to my lower lip. “I can’t believe you let a barber near you. Does he still have his hands?”

  Worry flashes in his slate eyes. “It looks bad?”

  “No! No, it looks fantastic. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the total transformation. Did Justice make you do this for some reason?” Then the truth dawns on me, bringing a grin to my lips that firms up Salem’s scowl. “Ah. You cut your hair to look nice for Lily.”

  “Shut your gob about it. I knew I looked ridiculous.” He moves to pull off his sweater, and I see he’s wearing his olive military shirt beneath, just in case.

  “Wait! I didn’t mean anything bad by it. Just an observation. Lily will love it.”

  He doesn’t believe me, so he turns back into his bear-sized wolf, which I notice now has slightly shorter gray fur.

  I shake my head at him. “You, my dearest friend, are a coward. Face a whole battalion by yourself, no problem, but put you in front of little Lily, and you’re a mess.”

  He growls at me, but that seems to be the most he’s willing to continue conversing about the subject. His ears perk up, and I know he’s hearing something I should’ve been listening for. We race down the stairs together, occasionally shoving each other out of the way, as we did when we were teenagers racing to dinner while our parents argued over boundary lines and borders in the study.

  The guards are helping Des out of the carriage, but he casts me a look of mild frustration that all is not well. “Brothers, it’s good to see you. Have I got a grand surprise for you both.”

  I frown and trot forward, shooing Des inside, since there’s only twenty minutes or so left of the moonlight. “Go on up to my room. The shades are drawn and the windows boarded for you.” Then to one of the guards, I say, “Prepare the hallways and the study on my floor for Prince Destino. The sun will be up soon, so make sure the boards are over all the windows in the east wing. I think I got them all, but if you could double-check.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” He bows to me, then gives a forced, curt bow to Des before trotting indoors. The constipated expression they all wear when they have to mind their political manners makes me chuckle every time.

  “Before you overreact, she’s fine,” Des calls to me from inside the house.

  “That’s very reassuring.” I step toward the carriage, but Salem is already darting inside, his howl of agony lighting my nerves on fire.

  “Where are ye cut?” I hear him shout, so I know he’s changed back into his man form.

  I jump into the carriage, my mouth falling open at the sight of my fiancée covered in blood.

  4

  Bloody Waitress

  Salem

  I’m the one asking her questions, but I can’t focus enough to hear her answers. Blood. So much blood. On her neck, in her hair, down her arms and covering her thermal t-shirt. She’s injured in too many places, yet she’s looking at me like I’m overreacting. “Show me where!”

  I’m shouting at her. I don’t mean to be, but seeing her like this takes away my ability to think about things like whether or not I’m scaring her.

  Of course I’m scaring her.

  “You cut your hair!” she finally answers.

  I stop to gape at her. “Tha’s all ye can think about right now? You’re bleeding out!”

  “No, it’s not all mine. We had a little accident on the way in. Then a little incident. I was hoping not to make a big scene, but maybe that’s blown now, what with all the yelling. Is there like, a back entrance or something?”

  The horse’s reins feed in through a slit in the front of the carriage, so vampires can direct them without a driver in the sunlight if need be. The front flap lifts so they can see out a tinted screen. Alex is together enough to do as she asks, and drives us around the palace toward the back, which butts up to the ocean. Leave it to the fae to block one of nature’s beauties with a stinking display of their wealth. The palace cuts the view of the ocean, but the fae all love it. The sun will rise on the water in minutes, but I can’t bring myself to enjoy any of it.

  “Tell me where you’re hurt,” I finally manage to say at a volume tha doesn’t spook her.

  “Prince Salem, I’m really okay.”

  Prince Salem. She doesn’t use Des’ title, and even calls him by his shortened name. She has a cutesy nickname for Alex. But I’ve known her for years, and I’m still Prince Salem.

  I frown at a tear in her jeans where an angry cut is clearly visible along her right thigh. “Ye were in a knife fight.” I’ve seen enough to know what I’m looking at.

  She grimaces, and then juts her chin out. “If you’re looking for an apology, I didn’t start it.”

  Jays, she’s beautiful, bloodstains and all.

  “I’m looking only to make sure you’re alright. I don’t care about getting ye in trouble. I only care if you’re in trouble.”

  Her eyebrows lift, as if I’ve said something shocking. “Well, thank you. It’s really no big deal. Could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “No big deal? You’re my…” My reason for being here? My love? “You’re my waitress,” I finish lamely, grimacing at how trite tha sounds.

  The carriage comes to a stop and Alex grabs her bags before he hops down, holding the door open for us with his foot.

  I don’t ask, and I don’t have it in me to care about her pride as I tuck one arm behind her back and the other under her thighs, lifting her in my arms as I step from the carriage.

  I’m holding her. I’m holding Lily. She’s a feather in my arms, so I take great care not to jostle her.

  “You don’t have to… Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “I don’t care if ye don’t want me carrying ye. You’re injured and bloody all over. Just let me do this.”

  Her mouth draws to the side, but she doesn’t protest further. I’m learning the only time I can ignore her wishes is when she’s injured. The need to take care of her is stronger than my desire to give in to whatever she wants.

  This woman has always been a danger to me, but I taunt myself regularly, going back to her pub over and over to be near the thing I shouldn’t touch.

  And now she’s in my arms. Her face is buried in my shoulder as I take her inside. I know it’s because she’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to be seen, not because she actually wants me near her. But I pretend tha’s what this is, tha she’s my girlfriend, maybe even my wife, to look after when she falls to disrepair. I pretend she trusts me to be her safe place, and my chest swells at the lie I love.

  No one’s actually in this part of the palace, so I take her upstairs to Alex’s room, because at this point, I realize maybe she is more embarrassed than injured. Alex plops down the bags and leans on the wall next to Des, after he locks the door behind us so we can get the whole story.

  Alex’s room is fancy, with lace on the curtains and gold and ivorum glinting off every surface beneath the glow of the ornate crystal light fixture overhead. It’s too much, I’ve always thought, but Lily’s special enough to deserve a room tha’s too much.

  I sh
ould set her down on the bed, but I can’t lay her on the mattress she’ll share with another man. I just can’t. So I kick at the ivorum chair, turning the pearly white thing toward the guys so we can all see her as I lower her onto the seat.

  Alex puts to words the panic I can’t brush aside, no matter how casual she’s acting. “Care to explain how you came to us so damaged?”

  5

  Simple Touches

  Salem

  I should give Lily some space, go stand next to the lads, but I can’t bring myself to part from her when she might be in pain. I finally manage to march into the bathroom and pull out a washrag, so at least I can clear off some of this blood. Then I’ll know what we’re dealing with. Des offers to tend to her, but I grip the wet rag tighter because I’m a selfish man and want an excuse to be near her a little bit longer. It’s no chore to kneel before her. I need to look at her leg, get to the source of the problem, but I’m not sure if I’m allowed to touch her thigh. She leans forward, her breath coming in small bursts across the nape of my neck, toying with parts of me usually left untouched.

  How I want her to touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. I wish life were different, tha someone this incredible could want me.

  Des explains in a low voice meant to ease the tension. “We traveled through Neutral Territory so I could bring gifts to Fiora from King Ronin, and so Lily could see her mum. Fiora was in the middle of treating someone who was bleeding out, so Lily helped. That’s where most of the blood came from. Then after we washed up, changed our clothes and had a bite to eat, we wanted to beat the sunrise, so we left in the carriage. On our way into Faveda, the carriage was attacked because it’s clearly mine. Lily gets a little vicious when she’s scared.”