by Angel Payne
Sadness crept into his eyes. My heart tightened. “He passed last year, right? Sudden heart attack?”
“Yes.”
I worked my fingers between his. “I’m sorry.”
“I still miss him,” he admitted. “Some days more than others. But not nearly as much as I would have, without making the most of his last few years.” His grip tightened in mine. With his other hand, he tilted my face back up to meet his gaze. “That was all because of you, Miss Camellia Saxon of Chapman University.”
Thud.
Dork factor, ten. But perfection for the moment? Equal score. The term pretty much nailed the thunder in my chest—and the nosedive my composure longed to take to the floor.
Focus on what he said, not on how he said it. Or how incredible the garnishes were, like his fingers against my cheek, his scent in my every breath, his face so close, I could simply curl a hand into his doublet and tug him a few inches closer…
Oh, God. I was a few extra steps toward hell, without a doubt. Worse, I just kept going, using his meaningful moment of confession into a platform for my wicked thoughts—which likely would have become full, hot fantasies, if not for him speaking up again.
“So there lies my truth,” he murmured. “And yes, I have remembered you through the years. The Chapman lightning flash with midnight hair and daybreak eyes, who made me see things in a new and different way one afternoon.”
It wasn’t a full whisper—though came close enough to count. Like it mattered. His honesty, so bold and bare, crashed the words over me like a full symphony, turning my senses into equally stunned mush.
Self-control be screwed, if only for a moment. I gave in to the music, indulging the need to touch him in return.
Forget grabbing his doublet. One chance for this, had to count. I went for his jaw, sifting fingers through the spikes of his stubble, before spilling the words in my own heart.
“Like you changed everything for me tonight.”
His brows lowered. A ragged breath escaped him. His fingers wound to my nape. He used the hold to drag me closer. “Tell me,” he grated. “Tell me.”
To my shock—and horror—tears seeped out. What. The. Hell? Oh, God. Now the caffeine drop hit. That had to be the explanation—not the gut-deep honesty of my next words. “Look, I didn’t accept this job from Harry out of the complete kindness of my heart. I—I came with baggage. Goals beyond just the movie. Expectations of what I wanted to achieve, ideals that might even be crazy in a few people’s books.”
He rubbed a thumb against the base of my scalp. “Crazy is not against the law in Arcadia, little lightning.”
“Very good to know.” I managed a watery smile. “Though if your loony bins are half as nice as the palais, sign me up.”
“Was that how I helped, then? Do the ideas not seem so crazy now?”
“Oh, they’re just as crazy. But along with all the other balls in my fun personal circus, they make a lot of noise.” I pointed at my head, inciting him to a soft laugh.
“I understand.”
I bet he really did. “Well, for a few seconds tonight, all of that was…”
“What?”
“Stopped.” I twined my fingers into his hair to keep his stare fixed to mine. “I know that sounds weird. I also don’t know how else to describe it, except that the anticipations, the demands, the baggage…in those few moments with you in the ballroom…it all went away. You—well, you just banished all of it.”
He inhaled, deep and full. Slid his hand around to wick the drops from my cheeks. “And that was…good?”
“Ohhhh, yes. Good. I won’t—I can’t—stop the world very often.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Logistical impossibility. Too busy. Too much going on. Keeping up. Keeping alive. Expectations are demanding things, you know.”
“Fuck that.”
Blink. Blink. “You sure as hell know that one, don’t you?”
“Especially when I am right.”
I shrugged again. Not so easy this time. “Right or not, the point is irrelevant. It’s not like I can run to you whenever the circus goes too nuts. I don’t even want to ask how many rules we’re breaking right now, just by—”
He shut down my words by grabbing both sides of my head. His fingers stretched back, tangling in my hair, extending from my cheeks to well past my ears. His hold was hard and persistent and possessive—and I wanted more even as I ordered myself not to. My vision tunneled into him, and my head swam…as the world tumbled away once more. Just as it had in the ballroom, the room spun then stopped…then faded. Nonexistent.
He was the only thing in my cognizance—and I in his. I didn’t just sense the completeness of his focus. I knew it, as if every cell in his body sent out a homing sensor to mine and they pinged back at once. Thrilled? Terrified? I didn’t know which to be.
Both?
I struggled to recall a time with Harry that had ever been like this, but even during sex, the director in him didn’t rest. I’d always see him calculating artsy angles on the scene through every damn minute. Though he always left the bed satisfied, I’d wondered how much of our “passion” wound up on the editing room floor in his mind.
“Tell me now.” Evrest’s command was low but musical, a seduction wrapped in dominant syntax. Thunder calling to my lightning…
“Tell…you what?” I whispered.
“That I still make it all stop. That it’s all gone away again.” The tips of his fingers curled in, pulling my hair. “Tell me, Camellia.”
I opened my mouth. Slammed it. Oh God, how I wanted to appease him. Could almost envision how his eyes would spark, how his lips would lift, how he’d reward me…with a mind-stopping kiss. The drop of his gaze to my mouth escorted the fantasy deeper in, bursting it to life in my imagination. The best thing of all about my obeisance? It would be the truth. Every word. Yes. It’s true, Evrest. It’s all fallen away again. You make everything stop for me.
“I—” The words clamored at the bottom of my throat. Clawed at me in their need for release. “Evrest—”
“Tell. Me.”
“I can’t.” I let my hands fall just as his did. “I can’t. I’m not even going to apologize for it. You know why as clearly as I do.”
He surged to his feet. Crossed to the kitchenette in order to splash water on his face and neck. I snuck in a glance at other things, too. Hell. His crotch also needed the cold bath—though if he went that route, explaining the splotch between his thighs might not be the best take-home memory to give the state dinner crowd.
“Fuck,” he snarled.
“Okay. You really know that one.”
Him: simmering at the sink. Me: squirming on the hearth. Hey, kids! Welcome to the uncomfortable silence party!
He finally pushed up, straightening his doublet. “I need to get back.”
“I know.”
“Are you coming, too?”
Gaze in lap. Gaze in lap. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But do me a favor?”
He turned, boyish wickedness tugging at his mouth. “Yes? Perhaps a plate I can bring you later, Miss Saxon?”
“No.” After his smile fell, I charged, “Stop and talk to Novah. I think she’s very sweet.”
He didn’t answer that. Just turned and left the office on heavy steps. I didn’t blame him for his lousy mood but couldn’t alleviate it, either. We’d already played with this fire more than we should—but thank God it was still just a pile of twigs beneath his flint and my steel. We could still smash the whole thing, leaving me to make a movie and him to form a new kingdom.
Thunder and lightning storms weren’t in the forecast for the next six weeks. Nor would they be.
Chapter Six
‡
Three nights later, I stared into the sky over the ocean to behold a “storm” of a different kind. Rockets of yellow, orange, and red streaked among the stars until detonating together, illuminating the coastline for miles in either direction. As every r
ound exploded, I joined my whoops and hollers to those of Joel, Dottie, and a bunch of guys from the camera crew. The seat next to me on the palais lawn remained saved for Crowe, who’d sweetly offered to go grab more peel-and-eat shrimp for everyone.
“Where the hell did that damn Irishman go?” Joel barked the complaint. “Did he sail back to Boston for the stuff?”
“Shiiit, dude.” Suede, a cameraman who’d paid his industry dues on surfing documentaries, gave a rolling nod. “Chug a chill pill. He hasn’t been gone that long.”
Dottie chuckled. “It’s not like they’re going to run out.”
One of Suede’s friends, a wiry guy everyone called HD as short for Hyper Drive, nodded. “Three days in and they’ve already spoiled us rotten. Best damn shoot I’ve ever worked. Viva L’Arcadia! Liberlük!” He hoisted his glass in time to toast another round of fireworks. Like good movie people, we cheered the poetic grandeur of his pose, accidental or not. He repeated the chant, nearly singing it in exuberance.
“You know, HD, I hear antibiotics will clear that up fast for you,” Joel drawled.
“Fuck off,” the cameraman flung. “It’s the Arcadian word for ‘liberty’, so it’s very appoppiate. Appipigate. Dammit! Appropriate.”
We all roared again. “I’ll drink to that,” Joel added.
I giggled, sipping from my own glass. “I think it’s the punch. You know they actually call it nectar? It’s very yummy. Sort of sangria with fizz. What do you think is in it?”
Joel smirked. “Well, you know how they say Evrest isn’t actually fucking any of those wenches that are hanging all over him?”
Dottie whacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t go there, sparky.”
“Hey, the man’s in his prime. And I hear they don’t waste a lot here. So all that Cimarron ‘nectar’ has to be contributing to the bottom line somehow.”
He went there.
Luckily, another round of rockets lit up the sky. Though the group’s laughter was masked, the glow illuminated the figure reentering our circle.
“Hey! Crowe’s back!” I jumped up and hugged him, nearly knocking the bowls of shrimp out of his hands. “And look! He’s morphed himself into Harry and Beth, too!”
“Righteous, man.” Suede fist-bumped the air before splaying his fingers, “exploding” at us all.
“Talented guy,” HD concurred.
Joel took a different tack. “Where the hell have you two been?” he demanded of the couple.
Dot groaned. “How much have you really had to drink?”
Joel snorted. “What’d I do now?”
“It’s the first night we haven’t been shooting until midnight. We’re in paradise. There’re fireworks. Where the hell do you think they’ve been?”
Harry and Beth good-naturedly endured everyone’s laughter and teases. Though I joined the mirth, unable to ignore Beth’s freshly-fucked hair and Harry’s rumpled outfit, my gut wrenched. Total happiness for them was still a four-leaf clover in the field of my brain, somewhere in there but just not grasped. And…that sucked. I sucked. Ugh. I had to get over it. Despite my hugest efforts to see otherwise, Beth wasn’t your run-of-the-mill actress. She’d been raised in some small town in Oklahoma, lending her a sweet accent and a level head, actually making her perfect for Harry. And dammit, sexual attraction aside, I did love Harry, so that needed to be okay with me. But it wasn’t. Not yet.
Compounding my confusion in a hundred ways? The man who walked up the lawn toward us, stealing my breath more with each bold, confident step he took.
King Evrest had arrived, and the very air around us shifted because of it. And hell, was the man worth shifting for. His stride was proud and graceful, accentuated by the rugged black pants encasing his endless, beautiful legs. Shiny black boots hugged him from knee to feet—handy accessories, since it looked like he attempted to greet every Arcadian on the lawn tonight, numbering several hundred. Accentuating his lean waist, and the breadth of his shoulders in contrast, was a cummerbund-looking thing, also in black, secured by a pin bearing the Arcadian crest. The ensemble would’ve tipped into the realm of lame steampunk cosplay if not for the cobalt satin vest that hugged his torso, fastened by a zipper sewn in at a diagonal. Beneath it, his crisp white shirt also had an off-center collar. Though his hair tumbled more freely around his face tonight, the dark waves now had to share their real estate with his crown.
Hands down, he earned the headgear. His confident king look, mixed with a little Khal Drago and a little Outlaw Josey Wales, made me damn glad Crowe had also brought me a fresh glass of nectar. Liquid courage, don’t fail me now. I made it my motto while joining everyone in standing for Evrest’s approach.
Harry approached Evrest with an extended hand and his most charming smile. “Happy Liberlük to you, King Evrest.”
“Merderim, Mr. Dane.”
His gaze, circling our little gathering, didn’t linger too long on anyone—until he got to me. A kick at one end of his mouth. Crinkles, oh-so-slight but oh-my-God sexy, at the corners of his eyes.
Don’t look at me like that.
Don’t stop looking at me like that.
I plunged my gaze into the refuge of my drink. Felt myself swaying, fast approaching the portal between buzzed and drunk. It loomed larger with every sip but at the moment, I didn’t give a shit. Out of all the men on the planet, I only wanted to jump two—and the three steps that separated me from them might as well have been galaxies.
“The merderims are all ours, Majesty.” Suede grinned. “You Arcadians know how to throw down with the ragers.”
At Evrest’s perplexed scowl, Harry clapped his shoulder. “He’s enjoying the party.”
“Oh.” Evrest went all boyish simplicity for a moment—like I needed that. Cue the flipping senses, the temporary amnesia about all the booze in my bloodstream. Dammit. After only three days, Operation ‘Avoid the King’ had backfired on me. Every move he made was like water to my desert—and I was willing to stand here without sunscreen to get more.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
“This holiday is similar to what America does on the Fourth of July, right?” Joel inquired.
“Precisely,” Evrest answered. “In seventeen ninety, as the French Revolution began to spin out of control, a small group managed to flee the kingdom through Italy. They joined another group, already in exile, until pushing to the coast and setting sail into the Mediterranean. Their goal was relocation to Greece, but their timing was awful. They were blown off-course by violent storms, and wound up going ashore in Izmir.”
“Turkey.” Joel nodded. “That explains the mixture of the two languages.”
Evrest, back to his noble confidence, smiled and nodded.
“By that time, our ancestors were running low on supplies and food. The locals in Izmir were generous, having been no strangers to persecution, so several of them were invited to climb aboard once the ships set sail again.” His shoulders pulled higher with pride as he finished his account. “When they all found this island and formed the kingdom of Arcadia, they all did so with the same passions that guide her today—the tenets we still live by as its royal family. Kindness and equality to all. Determination to be the best versions of ourselves, grounded in decisions of character and fairness. Respect for our land and its gifts. And neutrality about allowing the rest of the world to pursue their happiness.” A grimace tightened his face. “Or their violence.”
Everyone was quiet, allowing the story to settle in. I was discreet, too—on the outside. Inside? His words injected me with a thrill. I’d fantasized about changing the world, but Evrest Cimarron descended from generations who’d been doing it. The strength he took from that was evident in every majestic line of his stature—but the weight of it was also visible in the tension riding his shoulders.
He fascinated me in a thousand new ways.
Which was a thousand more than I could afford right now.
Joel’s whistle finally sliced the air. “That’s a tall order, man.”
“Makes me understand why you’ve kept the goods in the cave this long,” Suede added. “Bet its kept things simpler.”
Evrest nodded again. “Excellent point, dude. But the cave is about to collapse, unless we give it some modern touches.”
“I hear you, man. Get it on with your Fred Flintstone side.”
Harry openly eye rolled the crack. Didn’t help poor Evrest, now openly nonplussed. He recovered with a game grin before responding, “Having you all here is a giant step forward for us. I understand the first few days of the shoot have gone smoothly. That officially turns you all into ambassadors for the point I am trying to communicate to my people.”
HD sidled forward. “That making movies is damn hard work?”
We all commiserated with chuckles. Evrest kept his smile steady. “That the outside world isn’t filled with murderers, cheats, and badly-behaved housewives.”
Our laughter dissolved into a group groan. “The Internet certainly sets a fun stage sometimes, doesn’t it?” Beth offered.
“A learning experience for everyone,” Evrest returned. He continued, seeming to choose his words carefully, “Guiding people away from twerking kittens and toward the benefits of education and awareness…has been an interesting journey for us all.”
“What’s wrong with twerking kittens?” Joel challenged.
Dottie drove an elbow into his ribs. “Please ignore him, Your Majesty. He hasn’t had his medication yet tonight.”
As everyone chuckled, I took advantage of the moment to swig some more nectar. What was in this stuff? And did I care anymore? Don’t look a gift horse…or in this case, an open bar…
I gratefully told my inhibitions to sit the next minute—or sixty—out. Same for the doubts about gazing too long at Evrest, or wondering if my face was schooled to the right balance of decorum and respect when I did. Which oddly, lent me the strength not to look at him at all—
