Into His Dark

by Angel Payne

  “Not totally nutless, okay?” I went for breezy and teasy, hoping it would end our codependency party for good, getting things back to normal. Well, at least back to how they’d been before the editing room Clash of Clans.

  I didn’t delude myself. This was tricky. Despite all my defensive backlash, his ire was pretty damn justified. If I’d been the one smacked with that image of Evrest and me, I’d have jumped to the same illicit assumptions.

  Assumptions?

  Sorry, Harry. That’s what you’re going to keep thinking. Because, holy shit, if you ever discover that you were halfway to the truth…

  Yuck. Guilt might be a quirk on his face, but now it was a full knot in my stomach. I sat back, ducking my head to let him think I’d gone bashful at disclosing my “nut” status, but in truth, stabbing the stop button on my remorse.

  And tell myself—for the thousandth time—that the emotion wasn’t needed anymore.

  I’d seen the harem hidey hole for the last time. That portal was sealed shut for the Evrest and Cam Show. We’d gotten damn lucky. Been able to soar into the clouds and explode there without anyone seeing the flare. Attempting to ever do so again would be like swimming in a lake during a thunderstorm.

  Not that I didn’t think about it, in detail so hot it hurt, every other minute.

  Not that time didn’t taunt me with one of those minutes right now.

  Not that fate didn’t join the fun too, dragging a guest of honor to the van’s entrance for the pure, evil fun of it. A guest who, until now, had honored my plea to stay physically away because there wouldn’t be anything I could do about the torment of him in my head. A guest who looked…

  so

  damn

  good.

  Yeah, even with the tired creases at the corners of his soft green eyes. Even with the way his stare became that of an awkward teen wanting to ask me out instead of a man who’d had his fingers—and other body parts—deep inside me twelve hours ago.

  Especially now, in clothes that didn’t have a single stitch of royal tailoring to them.

  Wow.

  They needed to let the guy out of the palais a little more. Deconstructed cowboy was a really good look for him, starting from the top. The beat-up leather Stetson was a perfect fit with his wind-messed hair and stubble-roughened face. His chest strained the limits of a gray T-shirt, layered by a gray and blue plaid shirt with sleeves shoved halfway up his forearms. I shifted back, fighting how my intimate parts tingled simply from the memories of scratching my fingertips in the springy hairs on those arms. Like that did any good once my stare raked over his legs. The denim industry needed to be paying the man a commission. What his carved hips and powerful thighs did for those faded blue jeans, falling over a pair of dusty boots, was as close to sin slipped into skin as I could imagine.

  But I’d sworn sin off. I’d sworn him off. I’d made the message clear, even through clenched tears, after he’d walked me back through the tunnels to the ladies’ room in my own palais wing. Listening to his footsteps fade into that darkness had been one of the shittiest experiences of my life—though this moment might be joining that list very soon.

  He’s still sworn off. No matter how his thunder thrills you or how deeply his darkness calls to you, his river is forbidden—

  Which didn’t explain his selective memory.

  Why the hell was he caressing me with his eyes that way? Smiling with so much familiarity? Radiating energy that instantly made me feel stripped naked—and longing to return the favor?

  Sluicing my blood into all the places it shouldn’t be…

  Ohhh, Evrest. Not now. Not here…

  “Mr. Dane. Miss Saxon. Merjour to you both.”

  “The same to you, Majesty.” Harry offered it with level care. Damn. He didn’t miss a nuance of Evrest’s gaze, which hadn’t wavered yet from me. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your personal visit? Your assistant informed us that your brother insisted on other travel arrangements, that your staff and team would be driving to the beach ahead of us.”

  Evrest nodded. “You were informed correctly. My brother can be—how do you all like to say it?—a real dickhead about my security.”

  In an effort to distract myself, I’d taken a swig from my water bottle. I choked on the stuff as Harry barked a laugh. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, “that’s one way of saying it.”

  Evrest cracked a huger smile, doubling the masculine magnificence of his face. “We have just enjoyed a lengthy lunch on the cliff—during which, I spiked his canteen with nectar. He was more open to the foreign relations value to me riding with all of you the rest of the way.”

  “Oh.” I blurted it in tandem with Harry. Shock echoed in both our voices. Didn’t make a dent to the relaxed country boy Evrest had become.

  “The next section of the journey is especially beautiful,” he stated. “And can be very interesting, when you have a local aboard.”

  Beth and Crowe had stepped back over. Beth clapped with shiny-happy-pretty delight. “Wow! ‘Local’ doesn’t get any better than the king! Right, guys?”

  The decision was sealed. Like it had ever been up for discussion.

  I avoided looking at Evrest or Harry in the aftermath, slinking back to my seat while Beth insisted on a selfie featuring Evrest and her. Thank God it took a few tries—“Instagram filters only help a girl’s skin so much”, she explained—so I could compose myself with clearing a spot for Harry.

  But when Harry rose, Evrest shoo’ed him back. “You are the leader today, Dane. I am merely along for the sightseeing chatter. Miss Saxon has plenty of room back here for the humble local boy.”

  Humble, my ass. The words were half a tone shy of a full royal decree—though I seemed the only one who noticed as he swooped gracefully into the back seat. Along the way he doffed his hat, letting the full, untamed mane of his hair gleam in the sunlight. My fingers twitched, longing to touch.

  I clenched them tighter around my stylus, instead. Glared harder at my smart pad. That was the easy stuff. Containing my dozen huffs wasn’t so simple, especially as he scooted closer.

  “Guess that settles it.” Harry gritted the false cheer. “Cam? You okay with company back there?”

  No.

  “Sure.” I’ll take the fake smile special too, please. “This’ll be…fun.”

  As the driver restarted the van and we revved back onto the road, Beth’s chatter was the only relief from the tension. Even Crowe seemed aware that something was up, lobbing a questioning stare between Harry and me. And Evrest. Oh, yeah. That not-so-subtle addition to the manifest.

  For a few minutes, courtesy of Beth’s social media feeds, the conversation was an easy mix of the latest LA gossip and movie industry news, concluding with a dozen shots of the newest summer shoe trends.

  After the footwear cavalcade was over, a cloud of silence loomed again. I sure as hell wasn’t volunteering for conversation starter. Like that would be the winning moment of the day. Where was the TED Talk on coming up with safe subjects for “the morning after” with the lover who’d blown the barn doors off your libido, while your suspicious boss came to his own conclusions about every word you spoke?

  I’d never been so thrilled to hear Harry’s phone ring.

  Harry clearly wasn’t, growl deepening when he observed the caller ID. Nevertheless, he swiped the screen, answering the call right away.

  “Probably studio brass,” Crowe explained in response to Evrest’s curious look. “He’s likely to be on for a while.”

  “Ah,” Evrest replied. But a second later, after leaning in perilously close, whispered, “Good.”

  Not good.

  The sooner I made him aware of that, the better.

  Somehow, I managed to scoot away—but not by far. Dammit. My body was tuned to his now, awakened by the simple call of his proximity.

  In desperation, I fought to reset my libido. Aha—creative visualization. Steamed broccoli. Cleaning the shower. Rush hour traffic.

 
I didn’t have a prayer.

  Working on Zen breaths only doused my senses in more of him. His nearness. His energy. His sandalwood essence, now joined by the earthy mix of leather and denim…damn, damn, damn…

  Even averting my gaze was now an impossibility. I was riveted to his masculine glory. Even fascinated with it. Cowboy Ev was…really nice. The strong line of his jaw was accentuated by the dark scruff. His lips, so elegant before, were a soft and sexy contrast to the rough textures framing them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I fully indicted him with the rasp—and the smile that disguised it. Thankfully, everyone else was distracted for the next few minutes. Beth and Crowe decided to run lines from the change pages Trent had hit them with this morning. And as Crowe predicted, Harry was engrossed in a long phone call with Pinnacle.

  Crazily, Evrest and I had been given a new bubble.

  I still wasn’t taking back the accusation. Or the glower I mustered with it, at least in my eyes. Or my resolve not to let his eyes get to me, no matter how thick with adoration they got—or how deep the temptation of their dark, sexy intent.

  “I could not do it,” he finally murmured. The second he did, I softened a little. His smile, a little bigger than mine, was just as counterfeit. I could see it in the edges. Sadness jerked at them, taking away the ease that normally turned my belly into a three-ring circus.

  “Couldn’t do what?”

  He inched a hand over. Let one of his fingers edge against mine. “Stay away from you.”

  Double-edged sword, the Evrest Cimarron model. He sliced my soul with joy…bled out my heart in torment. “Well, you have to.” I curled my pinky finger—only my pinky—beneath his. Even with that tiny contact, greedy heat coursed between us. “We agreed, Evrest. Last night—”

  “Was the last night.” He bit it out. “I remember what we said, dammit. I was there.”

  “Then why—”

  “I want nothing more than a few minutes, Camellia. Here, with our clothes on, just talking.”

  “Despite how your eyes just got me naked in five different ways?”

  One side of his mouth inched up. “Because yours were chaste about me?”

  I looked away. Blergh. Calling my shit was one thing. But doing it in that sultry undertone, rendering it impossible to think in a straight line…

  The last time he’d used that voice on me, his fingers had my backside spread open, and his erection was stretching me into a new being. Camellia…please tell me this is just as good for you…

  Before he’d skyrocketed us both into ecstasy.

  “Okay, so…what?” I charged. “Is this like letting ourselves down easy? The harem hidey hole gradual detox program? Do I get gum pieces flavored like you to help with the cravings?”

  His whole face darkened. “Holy fuck, would I love gum that tasted like you.” He shook his head. “As if such a thing were possible. You are a taste like no other, Camillia…and I am damn afraid that I have become addicted.”

  Look away. At least shut your eyes. Get him out of your sights. Maybe it will help with the rest.

  Who the hell was I kidding?

  Inextricably, irremovably, the man was inside me.

  Every brilliant facet of his gaze, as familiar as my own breath. Every angle of his face like a map I’d been destined to follow. Every degree of heat off his body, warmed to match what mine craved. Longed for. Needed.

  The force of it pounded me like a 49ers linebacker.

  I swallowed hard. Whispered back, “I think I’m addicted, too.”

  Evrest let out a slow breath. “I know.”

  Unsteady sigh. Despair had never been a favorite feeling, and I hated it even more right now. “What are we going to do?”

  His chin jerked up. In that moment, I watched him reach inside and access the man who’d been trained to rule a country, not the guy looking into a ravine of feeling so vast it didn’t have a bottom. The ravine I now peered into with him.

  I yearned to yank his hand into mine. To feel his strength instead of just beholding it on his face. To give him words that would make it better instead of questions that tangled everything more.

  If only I knew what those words were.

  I’m and sorry weren’t those words. When fate gave a gift like this, even for the blink of time we’d had it, one didn’t apologize for cherishing it to its fullest.

  I never expected this was equally absurd. Neither of us had walked into that ballroom expecting time to stop, breaths to halt, our worlds to alter.

  But they had.

  And still were.

  Even now, as he bent his head back down, sealing his gaze to mine with the softness of sea foam but the force of the ocean, he made everything else go away. Everyone else.

  For one more perfect moment, everything in my universe was only him.

  Please make it last…

  “Do?” His brows crunched as he echoed my last word. “I am not certain there is much to ‘do’, sevette…except make certain I am not alone in any more confined spaces with you.”

  We gave in to self-deprecating chuckles.

  “All right,” I returned. “Noted—though I’m the last one you want to be asking for backup on that.”

  “Why do you think I told only you?”

  We laughed again. It was good for the outward impression we wanted to convey but shitty for the threads of self-control I was barely controlling. Dammit. He not only looked like Dusty the Hot Cowboy but now flung one-liners like Benedict the Tasty Geek, decimating my Achilles heel from two sides at once. And hell if he didn’t know it.

  “Sweet Camellia.” His smile tugged his stubble all the right directions. “It feels so good to make you laugh.” He bit into his bottom lip, turning the look into something much more illicit. “And it feels even better to make you wet.”

  Annnnd, that about did it for my breath again. “Shit,” I muttered. “Evrest—”

  “Are you wet right now?” He leaned in, surely appearing like he simply relayed a joke. “If I slipped my hand into your panties, would they be damp? Would your pussy be slick? Would I be able to pull out my fingers and suck your sweet taste from them?”

  “You are not playing fair.”

  He shrugged. “Fortune favors the brave.”

  “And the unfair?”

  He backed away by several inches. The grin, however, stayed solid. “I like making you huffy, too. I can imagine doing it while you really are handcuffed to my bed, and—”

  “Hey.” I drilled a knuckle into his shoulder. “No more trips to the hidey hole, remember?”

  “Did I say a word about the ‘hidey hole’?”

  I stewed into silence. I had nothing for that—except a growing wet spot between my legs. My bed. He’d said it. Not the bed. My bed. Given the chance, he would actually take me to his royal chambers. Above ground. With the danger of being caught by a lot more people…

  We had to make sure he didn’t get that chance. Ever.

  No matter how potent or perfect the I-want-to-fuck-you-now look was on his face.

  “Ohhh, hell.” I slammed my eyes close. “You’re really after that wicked wolf merit badge today, aren’t you?”

  “Wicked wolf?”

  His scowl wasn’t the reaction I expected. I chortled a little. “That can’t surprise you. It’s been my private nickname thing for you pretty much since the second we met.”

  “You gave me a nickname? But…why the wicked wolf?”

  “Would you prefer Little Red Riding Hood?”

  The scowl deepened. “Wicked will be fine.”

  I let my laughter gain volume. “Glad you came around, wolfie.”

  He gave a boyish shrug. “It is better than others I have been subjected to through the years.”

  I raised my brows. “So the Arcadian press likes the cheesy handles too, hmm?”

  “The press?” he rejoined. His added pssshh was a cute cowboy touch I didn’t expect. “I would prefer them any day over the tongues o
f Syn, Shiraz, and Jayd.”

  “Now this is interesting.” I rested my head against a cocked hand. “Sibling teasing in the royal house of Cimarron? Gasp!”

  “As you would likely say in the ‘royal house of Saxon’, duh.” He ran a finger over the stitching in his hat’s brim while continuing, “They were relentless—in a loving, vicious kind of way.”

  “Such as?” I prodded.

  “Hmmm. Well. There was my favorite, ‘Evroost’, a stab at my wild hair and birth position in one dig.”

  “Points for versatility.”

  “Indeed.” He lifted that finger to his lips, evidently to spur more thoughts—or drive me crazy with how beautiful it made his profile. “They also favored ‘Ever-Neverland’, as well as ‘kroi-en-craquelins’, which loosely translates to ‘king on crackers’.”

  “Huh?”

  “Arcadian humor,” he supplied. “When a new king is crowned, they use the term ‘kroi-en-élevé”, meaning “king on high”, on his coronation day. It’s a formality, only used in ceremonies and at high state functions.”

  “And as fodder for the royal sibs to keep their big brother in line.”

  “That, too.” He turned his gaze out the window for a moment. “Though Father and Mother never let me stray too far from remembering my ultimate responsibilities, either.”

  I studied his face closely, wondering if I’d get a preliminary answer to my next words from the depths of his eyes or set of his mouth. “Sounds like they were tough love kind of people.”

  “They were. But let me be clear, there was as much emphasis on love as there was on tough.” A tenderness washed over his face, as captivating as any seductive stare he’d ever melted me with. “They made all of us walk hard lines, but with whips of encouragement and paddles of praise. We may have grown up in a castle but because of my parents, it was also a home filled with warmth and laughter.”

  “I can tell.” I said it with meaning. The attention and affection of both his parents was so evident in the man he’d grown to be.

  My words encouraged him to lean his head back a little, and continue on. “We had silly family traditions, just like a lot of people. Frisbee golf on the south lawn. Baking around the holidays. Burying Father in the sand at the beach every summer. Even ‘time outs’ when we turned into little boktards.”