Perry and Her Princes

by Serena Akeroyd

  It was like… hell, she didn’t goddamn know, but rage coursing through her, after days of indecision, suddenly felt good.

  It felt right. And she knew that was weird as hell, but it was fact.

  These guys were…she gulped. Hers.

  Nobody, and she meant no-fucking-body could threaten them. Hurt them. Goddammit, no.

  Maybe she could have taken this the other way—been scared for herself too. If someone could get to kids as well guarded as two princes, then that was some major planning, but she wasn’t thinking about herself.

  She was thinking about them.

  She was thinking about two small boys who’d suddenly been ripped from their family’s arms for profit and to make a statement.

  She was thinking about two kids who’d grown into adulthood knowing what it was to feel fear, to know that their safety was borrowed and never totally secured.

  The men, standing here at that moment, had all simultaneously aged and grown younger… As though their natures were unable to comprehend the news Philippe had just imparted. The child in them that had been kidnapped was out in full force, while equally, the men were older, wearier at the news they would have to follow different protocols to stay safe.

  Philippe murmured, “The head of the guards will need to speak with both of you. Your security will have to change, tighten up, and the force increase.” His sigh was heavy. “No more solitary rides, son.”

  The news hit Edward like a bullet. He jolted back, like guys in movies did after they’d been shot in the chest.

  “Solitary?” Xavier snapped. “He has two guards with him at all times.”

  Philippe shook his head. “You know that’s not enough.”

  “I know this is bullshit,” Xavier retorted. “We can’t play scared or that will just make them feel like they’ve won, dammit. They want us to be scared, they want us terrified and so over-protected we don’t get to live our lives.”

  The King closed his eyes, and that act told Perry the old man knew the truth in his nephew’s words but was too riddled with fear to let them sway him. “It’s imperative,” Philippe said hoarsely, “that they are protected. They are the future of this nation, Xavier. You are too. Don’t think you’re not involved in this updated security protocol.” Philippe shook his head at George, whose nostrils flared, almost like he knew exactly what his father was about to say… “And, for the time being, I think it’s wise to stay in Veronia, son. Returning to the US is unwise with this current threat hanging over us.”

  Perry staggered back and sat heavily on the sofa she’d only left moments before.

  Moments in which she’d been postulating over whether or not to dive headfirst into the wackiest relationship she’d ever contemplated. Being not only with two men, but with two princes. Being shared by them, fucked and loved by them…

  It had seemed such a crazy concept. Hot as hell, but crazy nonetheless.

  Now, her worst fear was being realized.

  Edward had said that George would, one day, have to return, but that couldn’t be today. Could it?

  She wasn’t sure why she said it, didn’t know if she’d regret it months down the line, but a soft sound escaped her lips and drew the attention of the men in the room.

  Her bottom lip quivered as she whispered, “We should tell them, Edward.”

  The Crown Prince, for at that moment that was who he was, turned bruised eyes to her. That he wasn’t his usual suave and assured self hurt her so intrinsically, the pain was sharp in her abdomen.

  Edward was strong and borderline cocky—enough to make her want to slap him when he revealed that side of himself. He was debonair and so goddamn cool that it was like having a conversation with James Bond sometimes… Then, throw in the fact he was sexy as hell and there was the potential for him to screw her brains out?

  Yeah, his overall hotness blew her mind.

  But this? The pain in his eyes, the deep abyss within those golden orbs that spoke of memories too heartbreaking for her to even think about…it just affirmed what she was about to do.

  “Perry?” Philippe prompted, a confused scowl on his brow. “Tell us what?” he added when neither she nor Edward said a word, just stared at each other. A visual connection forming between them in the time they took to stare one another down.

  She tilted her chin, jerking it upright with a staunch pride that would set the tone for the rest of her life.

  “I think I’ll need guards too, your highness. Edward and I have been dating for a while now… If he’s in danger, I might be as well.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The kitten had claws.

  George had always known it. Had always sensed his Perry was a tigress when it boiled down to it. Sure, she was soft in all the ways he loved. So different to the courtiers who were hard and grasping, but in that moment, he knew he’d never loved her more than now.

  Her chin was propped in the air like she was expecting a fight with his father, a fight she’d had no problem joining if push came to shove. There was a militant gleam in her eye, a challenge—she was daring the King of a large and wealthy nation to question her statement.

  To doubt her word.

  At his side, Xavier stiffened, but what worried him more was Edward’s lack of reaction. He’d retreated inside his shell, and George wasn’t certain if that was for good or ill. For ill, because he knew exactly where Edward’s mind had taken him.

  He was too young to truly remember what had happened, but his elder brother wasn’t. The mind being what it was, George’s had blanked out huge chunks of what had been done to them. Sometimes, when he was stressed, he would have dreams. Or, he supposed, nightmares were more apt a term, but he didn’t remember them. Just remembered the haunting sense that came with them, and reminded him of that time.

  Edward, on the other hand, remembered everything. Not that they talked about it often, but when the well of pain in Edward’s eyes grew too deep, George always knew where he’d gone. Where memories had taken him.

  The only way his turning inward could be viewed in any kind of positive light, was that he wasn’t refuting Perry’s claim. And that was exactly what it was. She was claiming him, claiming them.

  The knowledge was like an embrace from her; and it sucked that he couldn’t stride over to her and kiss her until she shook in delight at that claiming. But, that was the path he’d chosen.

  He was granting Edward the public side of her, not the private. When Philippe left, he’d tug her into his arms and show her exactly what she meant to him.

  Perry, unlike Edward, looked like she was ready to charge into war. He loved that about her. Loved that she was willing to fight for his brother, because Arabella sure as hell hadn’t.

  “How long have you been hiding this relationship from us?” Philippe asked of his elder son. Then, to George, he questioned, “And did you know about it?”

  He blinked. Nodded.

  “How long?” Philippe repeated.

  Perry licked her lips, faltering for the first time. Semantics, George knew.

  He didn’t know Edward’s schedule, didn’t know when he’d been out of the country… didn’t know how to make it seem like they’d been seeing each other for a while.

  “Long enough for it to be serious.”

  The words had everyone turning to Edward. He still looked internally bruised, and so goddamn tired George wanted to scream his fury at what those bastards were putting his brother, hell, and his family through. Because the minute his mother learned of this, she’d be terrified too.

  Perry swallowed, caught Edward’s gaze. A connection between them burned to life, stunning George with its ferocity.

  When he’d met Perry, he hadn’t thought that much of her in a sexual way. He’d been screwing someone at the time, someone he was content to hook up with, and he hadn’t been looking for anyone else or even for anything serious.

  She’d started off as a friend, and as that friendship had blossomed, his attraction to her had swe
lled.

  Regardless of his initial reaction, she wasn’t their usual type, and he and Edward had similar tastes when it came to women—only natural considering their inclinations. He’d known, at first glance, Edward wouldn’t see Perry’s charm and beauty for what it was, but that with time, she’d grow on him.

  And grow she had.

  Like something in one of Perry’s experiments, he thought wryly—knowing that only to his beautiful, wacky woman would that be a compliment.

  Being compared to a spore wasn’t most ladies’ ideas of sweet talk, but Perry wasn’t like other women. A fact he was inordinately grateful for. Seeing the blaze between the two of them, he knew he was right. A fact that made him feel rather smug. This would work.

  He would make it work, he told himself, the ferocity of his own belief surprising even him.

  Perry was too good a friend to lose to a whim, and now, because of this situation, the three of them were all-in.

  Xavier was an anomaly they’d have to explore.

  George had never shared with two men before, wasn’t even sure it could work. Especially not with his cousin, but hell, if Perry wanted him, who was he to question?

  A man couldn’t ask a woman to allow herself to be shared without expecting some unforeseen circumstances to arrive as a result of that request. The interesting thing was he wasn’t jealous. Maybe with anyone else, he would be. But Xavier was… he sighed. As much of a brother as Edward.

  “This changes things,” Philippe was saying, his voice breaking into the sexual tension arcing between Edward and Perry. But his tone was rueful, telling George he too had seen the responsiveness of their reactions to one another.

  There was no mistaking the feelings between the pair. A blind man would have sensed the connection.

  “Of course, it does,” Edward said, his tone bland, as he cut the cord and turned to look at him. “She’ll need to go through training.”

  Perry’s eyes widened, and George had to hide a grin. “Training? What kind of training?”

  Perry was anti-exercise. Mostly because she had two left feet and was one of the only people he knew with the ability to fall up stairs rather than down.

  For her own personal safety, she’d told him once; she’d decided that being a slob was in her best interests.

  “There are things you’ll have to learn, responses you’ll have to cultivate…in emergency situations.”

  She settled back, and for the first time, George saw a tremor rack her spine.

  Xavier saw it too, and surprised George by striding toward her, kneeling at her feet as he simultaneously reached for her hands. “It will be okay, Perry.”

  Philippe looked between his sons, and George knew he was confused. Who could blame him?

  This situation was beyond complex; Xavier’s response to Perry was as strong as Edward’s and George’s. And how Perry looked at Xavier was just as revealing.

  At that moment, he was a lifeline.

  Philippe cleared his throat. “We need to speak with Drake.”

  George grimaced—Drake was head of security, and had been a pain in his ass throughout all his teenaged years. Even though the man had only ever acted in George’s best interests, a fact he could understand now, his dislike of the bastard was irrational and totally adolescent.

  Philippe seemed to spot his disgust and for the first time since he’d made his revelations, chuckled. He cuffed George on the back of the head. “You never did like Drake, did you?”

  “He was the only one who made sure you couldn’t get out of the castle at night,” Xavier retorted with a grin, turning back to look at the three of them.

  Even Edward warmed at the gentle teasing. “I’m glad he wasn’t in charge when I was eighteen.”

  George huffed. “If only I was so lucky.” He watched as Xavier’s hand tightened around Perry’s, and noticed her response was to grab hold of his with both of hers.

  His father saw it too, and frowned. He’d never been certain how aware Philippe was over their ‘activities’ when they were younger.

  Their security detail couldn’t not have known what they got up to, and usually, that information had a way of trickling back to the King.

  If Philippe did know about it, he’d never mentioned it, and George highly doubted he’d have shared that information with Marianne.

  Philippe caught his eye a second. Though his mouth tightened, he just said, “Why didn’t you tell me they were dating?”

  “Not my place to share,” he rejoined immediately, grateful that he didn’t have to give an outright lie.

  He’d never liked lying to his father.

  Philippe, for all he’d been busy with the duties of his position, had actually been a bloody good father.

  Fair and kind, generous with what little time he had to spare. Even going so far as to make time for them on an impossible routine. Their childhood had been different to any other kid’s, but for years, both the king and queen had made a point of tucking him in on a night. They’d had nannies, but that final duty had been theirs alone.

  Only when they’d been out of state on travel duties had they been unable to do so and even then, there had been a nightly call to check in.

  The King and the Queen had truly shown their children they were loved, and as a result, the respect both sons had for their parents was without surfeit.

  Lying to Philippe was one way to completely destroy that respect.

  “You shouldn’t have hidden this from us,” he was chiding Edward. “Even going so far as to pretend to never having met when Perry arrived…”

  Edward shrugged. “I didn’t want to embroil her in something she wasn’t ready to handle.”

  “What’s changed in two weeks?” Philippe said, a scoff to his words.

  “I have,” Edward said calmly, and their father blinked at that.

  “You have?”

  Father and son met each other’s gaze. “Yes. I wasn’t ready, but now I am.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Ready to officially out ourselves as dating. You know what the press is like. Even though they’re controlled here and we have some privacy, Perry’s life is in the US… their journalists are different to ours.”

  Philippe shook his head. “How are we supposed to protect her when she’s over there? I can’t sanction a Veronian detail guarding her when she has no ties to you.”

  He shrugged. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Perry’s staying in Veronia to oversee the construction of three new dams.”

  Though Perry’s eyes widened at that news, telling George that was the first she’d heard of this story, it was the perfect distraction for Philippe.

  “Three new dams?” If the man’s voice could ever be so low as to be a squeak, then that was his pitch now. “Three? That’s totally impossible.”

  “Not if we want to combat the drought and stop it before it becomes a major issue.” Edward slapped the file he had in his hand against Philippe’s chest. “Read the report. It‘s a compelling read, and the statistics don’t lie.”

  Philippe narrowed his eyes but grabbed the file and flipped through it. He grunted after a few minutes and said, “I don’t have time to read this now. Drake will be waiting, and even I don’t like to waste his time.”

  George grinned at the idea of his father, the King, being afraid of their head of security. Considering Drake made the term ‘brick shithouse’ seem kind, George guessed it was fitting.

  “Am I needed?” Xavier asked softly, his attention still on Perry.

  Philippe sighed. “Yes, but I know you’ll ignore my words. If only my nephew was as obedient as my sons.”

  That had Xavier whipping around to grin at his uncle. “You tried your best, uncle.”

  “My best wasn’t good enough with you,” Philippe grumbled, but he waggled a finger at him. “Drake will be talking to you at some point. If I hear you’ve given him the run around, I will not be happy.”

  Xavier shrugged. “I won’t put myself in
any undue danger. What harm can I come to in my greenhouse?”

  “I don’t know, but if you can find trouble, you’ll find it. You always were mischievous, boy.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

  George grinned because he could well remember the many rounds of ‘mischief’ Xavier had undertaken as a child.

  There’d been the time he’d stolen his mother, Lisetta’s glasses, and he and Edward had switched places for the day. George remembered that one as Xavier had used his mother’s confusion to sneak off their estate and to go into the forests.

  He’d been found, hours later, curled up by one of the ponds where the stags and does went to drink. Yes, Xavier’s mischief always had a distinctly geeky edge to it. Unlike Edward who had been a rebel of James Dean proportions.

  “Come, sons,” Philippe directed. “We must go.”

  Edward nodded. “I’ll be in your office in five minutes, father. I just want to talk to Perry.”

  Philippe cut him a look but didn’t complain, just grabbed George’s arm before he could try and stay behind, and dragged him out the door. It killed him to leave. He wanted to know what Edward would be saying to Perry, what Xavier would say too, but that wasn’t to be.

  He’d have to be patient and find out what had been discussed later. Shame that he’d never been renowned for his patience.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Perry peered at her new wardrobe and groaned at the sight of the many, many clothes that had made an abrupt appearance without her even knowing it.

  George and his minions at work again, she supposed with a grumble. Then, scratching her forehead, she stared at the dozens of rows of hangers that were loaded with designer couture, and headed for the three drawers she’d unpacked herself from her smaller cabin bag, having left the clothes George had bought her to be unpacked by the staff.

  There was a comfort in finding her sloggy sweats and beaten up ‘Harvard’ tee scrunched in a pile in the drawer, and she picked them up, pressed her nose to the material and smelled the scent of home.