American Queen

by Sierra Simone

  “It seems you are always meant to be comforting me somehow,” he said, lips moving against the golden tresses.

  “I like making you feel good,” I whispered. Better, some distant part of my mind said, you meant to say that you like making him feel better. But that wasn’t entirely true, maybe not at all true, because making Ash feel good conjured all sorts of lip-biting images in my mind. And whatever images it conjured for Ash seemed to be lip-biting as well, because I could feel a thick erection beginning to press into my lower belly.

  I pushed against it, eliciting a real groan from Ash this time, and then his hand was in my hair, fisting at the nape and yanking my head back, just like I’d imagined at the restaurant. He didn’t say anything, simply stared down at my parted lips and exposed neck, breathing hard, his erection now like steel against me.

  He didn’t ask me anything, didn’t say a word, but his whole face seemed like a question, his whole body, his hard cock and his rough hands. Do you like this? his face seemed to ask. Do you want more? Would you crawl for me? Bleed for me?

  He didn’t say the question out loud, but I said the answer out loud.

  “Yes, please.”

  His hand tightened in my hair, his pupils widened, and for one perfect moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I thought he was going to toss me to my hands and knees in the middle of the sculpture courtyard and give me a reason to stop bewailing my virginity. I thought he was going to drag me by the hair back to his hotel room and show me every single shadow that flickered in those forest eyes.

  And then the moment crested and broke, like a wave. The energy dissipated; his hand loosened in my hair and then was gone, he stepped back and ran a shaking hand over his face.

  “That was inappropriate,” he said unsteadily, his thumb moving to rub against his forehead. “That was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  I stepped forward, my heart in my hands. “It wasn’t wrong, I said yes, Ash—”

  But what I would have said next—what he would have done—became nothing more than a barely legible entry in the diary of what might have been, because at that moment my grandfather strolled into the courtyard, beaming at us both, totally oblivious to what had just happened between Ash and me mere moments before.

  “Major Colchester! I wondered if you’d vanished to take in the art too. A shame to come here and eat in a place meant for looking.”

  I let my grandfather pull me in a side hug and give me a whiskery kiss on the temple. “Ash—I mean, the major—was explaining this statue to me. It’s a very sad story.”

  Ash stopped rubbing his forehead, and it seemed to take great effort for him to pull himself together. “It’s a story from the Hebrew Bible,” he said, almost absently.

  “Ah, say no more,” Grandpa said. “All those Old Testament stories are too grisly for my tired bones. That’s the part of Mass when I usually dart off to use the bathroom.”

  “Oh, Grandpa, you do not,” I said.

  “But wouldn’t it be funny if I did?” he asked, eyes crinkling. “Anyway, I am stealing Greer away for the time being, but I won’t apologize, because you’ll have her back tonight for more Old Testament horror stories.”

  “Tonight?” Ash and I both asked at the same time.

  “Merlin’s fortieth birthday party, of course,” Grandpa boomed. “I’m bringing my granddaughters, and I know you’re coming and bringing that excellent Captain Moore with you. You’ll have even more time to talk then.”

  Ash’s lips parted and pressed together. And then parted again. “Yes. Greer and I need to talk.”

  The look he gave me was nothing less than urging, pleading almost, and I could feel the ghost of his fingers in my hair. God, I wanted him to urge me to do anything, plead with me for anything, and I wanted it so much that I almost felt ready to make my own rash vows.

  “I’m looking forward to talking,” I said, somewhat pointlessly.

  But Ash didn’t look satisfied at that. He looked miserable.

  “Goodbye, son,” my grandfather said, and I gave Ash a wave as Grandpa and I started for the doors. Ash waved back, once again wrapped in his unreadable stillness, and I gave a little shiver as I turned around and walked out of the courtyard.

  What exactly had just happened?

  12

  Five Years Ago

  Abilene squealed and threw her arms around my neck, strangling me into a hug. “A party with Maxen Colchester!”

  I had just told her about Merlin’s party tonight and how Grandpa wanted us both to go. Her dark blue eyes had simmered with excitement, had taken all of three seconds to boil over, and then she was shrieking and hugging me, jumping up and down as she did.

  “Oh my God, just you wait and see how fantastic this going to be!” she exclaimed. “This is so perfect, it’s too perfect. Maxen Colchester. I’ve been dying to meet him for so long.” And then she added, as if realizing that I was still there with her, “And maybe he’ll bring his cute friend, the one they have on the news all the time.”

  “Embry Moore,” I supplied, the sudden rush of adrenaline making my head spin. I felt outside of myself, like I was floating, like I was drifting backwards in time, back to Ash and our kiss four years ago. Back to the courtyard this afternoon, his hand in my hair and his eyes on my throat, like a hungry vampire. God, I couldn’t stop seeing his face in that moment, couldn’t stop feeling his body pressed against mine.

  “Right,” Abilene said, letting go of me and clapping her hands together, “Embry Moore. And then you can meet Embry and I’ll meet Maxen, and everybody will fall in love and live happily ever after.” She said it with a laugh that could have been self-deprecating, as if she understood how ridiculous the whole idea was, but all the same, her eyes shone with the kind of dangerous Abilene energy that meant she was about to get her way. I’d seen that energy before every lacrosse game, before every meeting with the headmaster, every night before she’d swung her leg out of the dorm room window to sneak out.

  And for the first time in four years, my little lie of omission suddenly seemed a lot less little.

  I almost opened my mouth to tell her—well, I don’t know what exactly I planned on saying—but she interrupted me by shoving my purse into my hands.

  “We’re going shopping,” she declared. “And we aren’t stopping until we find the perfect outfit.”

  And as usual, I let myself get swept up in her plans. Who knew what the night might bring? Ash might change his mind about going, or he might change his mind about talking to me at all. Dread soured my stomach, even as a part of me realized it might be for the best. It would hurt awfully, but it wouldn’t hurt as much as losing Abilene’s friendship.

  Would it?

  Merlin’s party was on the rooftop of an upscale hotel overlooking the Chicago River, and by the time Abilene and I arrived, it was well underway. While Grandpa went early because he planned on leaving early to catch a late meeting, Abilene had insisted we get there an hour after the party’s start time, so that we didn’t look desperate or worse—get forced into making small talk with inconsequential people. I rolled my eyes at that, but I didn’t argue. I was still twisted up in knots about going—about Ash—and it didn’t take much to convince me to hide in my room for another hour.

  But when we got there, I had to agree that Abilene had made the right decision. It was so much easier to step off the elevator and melt into a crowd of boozy chatter than it was to stand around awkwardly and stare at the newcomers walking in. I offered to get Abilene and I each a drink and slipped away from her, tugging self-consciously at the short hem of the raspberry mini-dress Abilene had somehow talked me into buying.

  “Miss Galloway,” came a voice from behind me.

  Startled, I turned to see Merlin himself standing behind me in line, elegant as always in a three-piece suit. Even the strong breeze ruffling his black hair looked refined. But all that elegance couldn’t hide the dislike that glittered in his onyx eyes or the displeasure pulling at the corners of
his thin mouth.

  “Mr. Rhys,” I said politely, making to turn back around, my chest thudding with nervousness.

  He caught my arm before I could turn away and steered me away from the line, towards the far corner of the patio. “I know you are here because of your grandfather,” he said once no one could hear us, “and because of the love I bear him, I won’t ask you to leave. But you should.”

  “You want me to leave?” I asked, stunned. Of all the things to worry about tonight, that had never occurred to me. That I actually wouldn’t be welcome.

  “Of course.”

  “Of course?” I repeated. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Do you…hate me…or something?”

  “Hate is a word used by the young,” he said, looking at me with an exasperated, chastising look. “I have no reason to hate you. Surely it must occur to you that I don’t act or speak without a good reason to do so.”

  “And there’s a good reason why you don’t want me here tonight?”

  At that, Merlin’s face softened, and when I did, I saw that underneath his sharp, predatory gaze, he was a handsome man. Handsome and tired, like Ash had been when I met him. “There is a good reason. And it’s that I don’t want to see you or someone else I care about hurt. But I suppose it might be too late for that.” He sighed and stretched his neck. “Do you remember that night in London, when you kissed Maxen?”

  Heat rose to my cheeks. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Another sigh. “It is my business. I don’t like that it is, but I can’t help a lot of things I don’t like. You see, I care a lot about Maxen. I believe someday very soon, he’s going to be more than a hero. I think he’s going to be a leader. But a leader is only as powerful as the people around him, and it matters which people he surrounds himself with.”

  I bristled at that. “I’m not a bad person, Mr. Rhys. And I’m not a weak or stupid person either.”

  “Oh, no,” Merlin said, shaking his head, “you misunderstand me. You are absolutely none of those things. You are too much of the opposite.”

  I had no idea whether that was a compliment or a warning, but I did know that I wasn’t willing to let go of Ash, not for Merlin. “I’m not convinced.”

  Merlin gave me a sad smile. “The thing is, Miss Galloway, you don’t need to be convinced. It’s over now, for better or for worse.” And then he took my shoulders and turned me to face the other guests, and the noise of the party faded until there was only the sound of my sharp, staccato breath and the wind blowing off the lake.

  Ash. Ash was here.

  My chest expanded.

  And then Ash turned and I saw that his arm was wrapped around a pretty brunette. She smiled up at him, and he leaned down and kissed her nose, and they both laughed. The sun glinted off a dazzling ring on her left hand.

  Ash was here with another woman. The same Ash who’d almost kissed me this afternoon, who’d pressed his hard-on against me, who’d smelled and kissed my hair as if it were the only thing he wanted to smell and kiss ever again. A flash of rage—hot and bright—and then I remembered the way he’d stepped away from me in the courtyard, the unsteady, troubled way he’d said that was wrong, I’m so sorry. How miserable he’d looked when he said that we needed to talk tonight.

  Of course. It all made sense now—the aborted kiss, the misery, the talk.

  My chest contracted, and somewhere inside myself, a valiant, flickering little hope was snuffed out, leaving only smoke and the faint whiff of what could have been.

  “He asked her to marry him yesterday,” Merlin said, his polished voice cutting through the wind. “So you see how things are.”

  It felt like I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  But yes, I could see how things were. I certainly could do that.

  “This is what I would have protected you from,” he continued quietly. “Discovering this so, ah, publicly.”

  I made myself turn away from the happy couple, feeling disoriented, feeling weak. “Of course he would have met someone else,” I mumbled, mostly to myself. “It makes sense. He’s not a priest. Why wouldn’t he be with someone?”

  But I had honestly never thought of Ash with another woman, it had never occurred to me to imagine such a thing, and the reality of it felt almost cruel in its obviousness. He was handsome and famous and kind and delightful, and why wouldn’t he fall in love with a beautiful woman? Why hadn’t I thought of this?

  Whatever my reasons had been, I felt terribly and horribly ashamed. Ashamed of falling in love with a man I didn’t know, ashamed of hoping he’d remember something that happened in another country four years ago, ashamed of being young and clueless and helpless and so utterly stupid.

  “I should go,” I said suddenly, feeling a familiar ache at my throat. “I need to go.”

  Merlin didn’t say anything to convince me otherwise, he merely nodded. “You’re a good person, Greer. And you deserve happiness. I only ask that you keep your kisses to yourself a while longer. And someday, there will be a happily ever after for you too.”

  I didn’t want to keep my kisses to myself, though, and I certainly didn’t want a thin promise of someday. I wanted Ash, and this afternoon in the courtyard had sealed my fate. I was doomed to want him and not have him, and like the Lady of Shalott, I’d be weaving pictures of my pain and devotion for years to come.

  “Goodbye,” I muttered, swallowing past the knot in my throat and turning away. Merlin stayed in the corner, his gaze like iron chains weighing me down as I tried to flee, linking me to him and his awful words. I had this miserable portent that I would be dragging these chains for years. My curse, my punishment for a crime I couldn’t have stopped myself from committing, even now.

  A curse for a kiss. That’s how wizards worked, wasn’t it?

  There would be tears, I knew, and soon. I kept my head down as I walked, trying to hurry without actually seeing what was in front of me, navigating around tipsy businessman and lobbyists and state senators, trying not to run into the low sofas and glass tables, remembering vaguely that the elevator had been in the center of the patio.

  And of course, since I wasn’t watching where I was going, since my mind was so busy with Merlin’s words and my heart was too preoccupied with its mortal wound, I tripped over a step I hadn’t seen and stumbled right into Ash’s hard body.

  I hadn’t known he was there, had been trying to avoid coming anywhere near him, in fact, but the moment I put my hands against his solid chest, the moment he grabbed my elbows to catch me, I knew it was him. That body and those hands…the memory of them had been etched into my brain forever. More than etched—branded.

  My cheeks flamed red with humiliation, my pulse spiking and my chest caving in from the weight of this embarrassing moment. Being held by the only man I ever wanted to hold me…and at the same moment that fantasy had to be euthanized. At the same moment I realized he was going to be married to another woman.

  Get away get away get away, my mind screamed in a rabbit-shriek of panic, but my body keened for his touch, begging me to press closer to him, melt into this moment forever.

  I found a breath but I couldn’t find my voice. He’d stolen it.

  “Greer,” he exhaled. His pupils had shrunk and then dilated into wide black pools, as if he’d stepped through an invisible doorway into some sort of darkness no one else could see. He flicked his tongue across his lower lip, as if unconsciously remembering our kiss, remembering this afternoon, and I let out a tiny helpless noise that only he could hear. His grip tightened on my elbows.

  I could feel Merlin watching me, his elegant hands inside his elegant pockets, waiting to see what I would do. Waiting to see if I still carried his chains and his warnings in my heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled to Ash’s chest, ducking my head down. “Excuse me.”

  I tried to take a step back, but his hands stayed firm on my arms, his eyes searing into the top of my head. He wasn’t lettin
g me go, and I didn’t want him to let me go, but I couldn’t do whatever this was. I couldn’t do the fake acquaintance, catching-up small talk thing. I couldn’t do the pretending and the smiling and the polite questions when I knew that he’d be going home with his someday wife tonight.

  I jerked myself out of his hold, stepping back and twisting away, and I ended up twisting right into Ash’s fiancée, who seemed to be returning from the bar, a martini in each hand. We collided and cold gin splashed onto the front of my dress, soaking the raspberry fabric and turning it into a deep maroon.

  “Oh my God, I’m such a klutz!” she exclaimed as I blinked, unable to process this new development as fast as I needed to. “I’m so sorry, oh my God, here, here,” and she set the glasses on the ground and started trying to mop at my dress with her own, fussing over me with that big sister behavior that all women nearing thirty have towards younger women.

  I know now that her name was Jenny—Jennifer Gonzalez, soon to be Jennifer Gonzalez-Colchester, a family law lawyer and amateur sharpshooter—but in that moment, I only knew what I saw. I saw that she was lovely, with large brown eyes and skin the color of rich amber. I saw that she was kind, with the way she apologized and worriedly sponged at my bodice with the hem of her own fluttering dress. I saw that she was happy, and it was Ash that made her so.

  I saw that you can be hurt—mortally wounded, in fact—and it doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault. Sometimes the world is just cruel that way, and it wasn’t fair to grudge them their happiness even as it tore down my own.

  Tears burned hot at the back of my eyelids, and I pushed Jenny’s hands away. “Thank you, I’m fine,” I said thickly. “I have to go, though. Excuse me.”

  And I pushed past her to get to the elevator. My only thought was of escape, my only feeling was the desperate, clawing need to be alone, and so I ignored her concerned voice, the hesitant murmurs of the people around us.