by Sue Lyndon
Claimed by the Bastard Prince
Sue Lyndon
Contents
About this book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
About Sue Lyndon
Copyright © 2018 Claimed by the Bastard Prince by Sue Lyndon
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published in the United States of America
Sweet Savage Press
Editing by Celeste Jones
About this book
He’ll make her beg for mercy…
Sparks fly when Cora meets the infamous Bastard Prince of Ismallia during a wedding celebration at Shalan Palace. Akeen is darkly handsome and cocky as hell, but her body hums at his mere presence and it’s not long before she throws caution to the wind and agrees to spend the night in his royal chambers. But she insists it’s only for one night.
Akeen disagrees. He wants to claim her over and over again. One night simply won’t do. He wants to keep her forever. The spirited American sunflower will belong to him—and soon. He plans to not only make her his wife, but to own her, tame her, and command her obedience. The pretty blonde proves a challenge, but he’s not easily deterred. As the powerful and feared Bastard Prince of Ismallia, he always gets what he wants.
But when Cora is suspected in a plot against the king, Akeen has no choice but to arrest her and hold her captive in the dungeon. Deep in the depths of the palace, he will personally interrogate her. And if she’s telling the truth about her innocence? He still plans to keep her.
Publisher’s Note: Claimed by the Bastard Prince was first published in the Royally Mine box set. This re-released edition includes several new scenes.
Prologue
She should stop. She should turn around and leave right now.
But she couldn’t. She had to keep walking.
Had to see the awful truth for herself.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh increased to a near echo down the hallway. As a numb sense of disbelief swept through Cora, she placed the takeout Chinese food she’d picked up to surprise Greg on the coffee table. She resumed heading for the bedroom, her pulse thudding fast as her palms broke into a sweat and nerves twisted in her stomach.
Giggles joined the wild sex noises, and the tinkling laugh of a woman alongside Greg’s telltale deep chuckle was a knife in Cora’s heart. She crept down the hallway and focused on the sliver of light escaping a cracked door. Tears burned in her eyes but she refused to cry. Not over a cheater. Not over a piece of shit scumbag like Greg.
But you love him, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. No no no, correction—she had loved him. Not anymore. Not if she found what she thought she was about to find when she reached the bedroom.
Maybe he’s only watching porn.
She latched onto this fleeting thought like a lifeline, praying the laughter she’d heard was simply from a sexy video and the man’s chuckle had simply sounded like Greg’s.
At last, she reached the door.
She hesitated before opening it and said another prayer under her breath. She’d been with Greg for over two years. Her longest relationship ever. She’d even dreamed about marrying him, having children together, and spending the rest of her life with him. Fucking hell, she’d been planning to move in with him soon. All her plans, all her hopes and dreams, teetered on the edge of oblivion, ready to fall into the dark void of rejection and loneliness and despair.
Please be porn. Please be porn. Please be…
It wasn’t porn.
Her heart crashed to the floor and shattered into thousands of pieces. All her well thought out plans for the future subsequently crumbled to dust.
What happened next was a blur as Cora’s whole world was turned upside down.
The woman—dark-haired and beautiful with massive breasts—shrieked and tried covering herself with the blankets. Greg started uttering apologies and making excuses for his behavior, all the while hopping around as he tried to quickly don a pair of pants. In the distance, Cora heard the sudden blare of sirens, as if all of Manhattan was being alerted to her deep, resounding pain. She gave herself a mental shake and ran out of her boyfriend’s apartment before he managed to catch her.
Ex-boyfriend, she corrected herself. He wasn’t her boyfriend anymore.
Her phone started buzzing nonstop in her handbag, but she didn’t bother checking it.
Fuck Greg. She hoped he and Ms. Tits were happy together.
How long had he been fucking that woman? Weeks? Months? But it didn’t matter. Because Cora couldn’t trust him anymore. He could apologize a million fucking times and promise to never cheat again, but in the end, she would never be able to truly believe him. Even if he wanted to save their relationship, there was no saving it from her perspective.
Two years. Her chest tightened. Two long years wasted. She’d been so fucking sure Greg was The One. Thank God she hadn’t moved in with him yet. Or worse—married the cheating fucker.
As the finality of the situation washed over her, she wandered down the street, oblivious to the passersby rushing along the sidewalk as a light rain began to fall.
When she reached the park near her own apartment building, she sat on a bench and lifted her face to the sky, allowing the cool raindrops to caress her face.
The rain would conceal any accidental tears.
Chapter 1
Two months later…
Cora’s gaze traveled from the sparkling chandeliers to the elegantly decorated tables crowned with large floral centerpieces. Around the exotic flowers, little yellow lights blinked in intervals, mimicking the look of fireflies. Lush potted trees, strung with dazzling white bulbs, stood along the walls. Live music spilled over the murmuring crowd, the female vocalist’s angelic voice accompanied by a full band.
The grand ballroom in Shalan Palace was like something out of a fairytale.
Cora had been hesitant to travel to the small but prosperous country of Ismallia by herself, to attend the wedding of her college roommate to an Ismallian prince, but as she absorbed the splendor of the palace and watched the happy newlyweds approach the dance floor, she was glad to have braved the journey.
This was a once in a lifetime trip. The wedding that had taken place earlier in the day had been just as magical as the reception, and in any case, she would have regretted missing out on her friend’s wedding, no matter where the nuptials were held.
The new bride, Malia, started dancing in the center of the ballroom with her handsome husband. They both smiled and stared into one another’s eyes with an intensity that bespoke true love.
A prince. A real live prince. Not only had Malia been swept off her feet by a good looking, wealthy man, but he was a prince to top it all off.
Cora pushed down the envy that bubbled up in her chest. She was happy for Malia. She really was. But, unfortunately, her recent breakup with Mr. Cheaterpants kept casting shadows upon this joyous event.
Still, she smiled when Prince Ramul twirled Malia across the dance floor and the entire room erupted in applause. The song ended and the happy couple shared a lingering kiss, much to the delight of the crowd.
Cor
a finished her glass of champagne and set it on the tray of a passing servant. She smoothed a hand through her curls and decided a breath of fresh air was in order. Turning for the balcony, she navigated through the multitude of royal guests, vaguely wondering which of them were indeed of noble blood.
The king of Ismallia had over a dozen legitimate children, some of whom had children of their own already. And if the tabloids she’d glimpsed on the newsstands were correct, the king was a bit of a rogue, having fathered many children outside of his two official marriages. King Brenul had numerous brothers and sisters who’d all had many children as well. Cora had read somewhere that Ismallia had eighty-nine princes and ninety-eight princesses in total.
As she stood on the balcony that overlooked a well-lit garden, her eyes drifted upward. The moon was full and beaming, the stars sparkling against the velvet black of the regal night sky. The only person she knew at this gathering was the bride, as none of their mutual college friends had been able to make the trip. She was awash in a sea of strangers, in a foreign country thousands of miles from home, but, thankfully, the magic of this entire day outshined her inevitable sense of isolation.
But I’m not really lonely. I’m not.
If she kept telling herself she was perfectly fine, she would eventually start to believe it. Cora believed in the power of positive thinking, that enough good thoughts would lead to good fortune, and she wasn’t about to forsake one of her best habits all because the man she’d thought she would marry and grow old with had betrayed her.
She released a long breath, imagining all her negative thoughts and emotions departed her body with the exhale to carry away on the faint breeze.
Everything would be all right.
She would enjoy the remainder of her weeklong stay at the palace. She would visit every tourist spot in Ismallia she’d originally planned to visit with Mr. Cheaterpants all by herself, and she would have a damn good time without his negativity weighing her down. Then she would return to Manhattan and the job she enjoyed, working for the top public relations firm on the east coast.
Yes, everything would be hunky dory.
The breeze picked up, ruffling the sheer layers of the elegant dress Malia had insisted she borrow. One of Cora’s suitcases hadn’t made it to Ismallia, and her friend had graciously lent her a ballgown to wear. Smoothing her hands down the silky fabric, she gazed across the garden, imagining she was one of the princesses who called this grand castle home.
A smile tugged at her lips, it was a silly thing to pretend, but she kept the fantasy going for a few more seconds.
I’ve been betrothed to a handsome prince I’ve never met, and this is my engagement party. I’m to meet my fiancé for the first time on the dance floor tonight, while the entire kingdom watches with bated breath. Though I’m initially nervous, my soon-to-be husband’s kindness and charm wins me over, and I fall fast in love. We have a fairytale wedding, and then comes the wedding night, where he takes his time stripping off my wedding gown, his dark eyes flaming with unbridled lust, and then…
“Champagne?”
A deep, sexy voice jarred Cora from her reverie. Her cheeks blooming with heat, she turned and found herself face-to-face with a man so darkly handsome he could have been the very prince from her fantasy. Her cheeks flamed hotter, and she took a deep breath, staring into his strikingly beautiful gaze as her mouth grew increasingly dry. She swallowed hard and glanced at the drink he was still offering.
“I… thank you,” she finally said, hoping the darkness hid her incessant flushing.
She reached for the flute of champagne and nearly gasped when his fingers brushed over hers in a deliberate swipe of flesh on flesh. The self-assured quirk on his lips told her it definitely wasn’t an accident. He’d meant to touch her just now, but only for a split second.
With shaking hands, Cora clutched her drink and continued to stare up into the most handsome dark eyes she’d ever glimpsed. The undeniable predatory gleam in his gaze prompted her pulse to quicken.
This sexy stranger looked like a man used to getting what he wanted, and right now, he looked like he wanted her.
Her pussy clenched as she took in the rest of his features.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that had been tailored perfectly to his huge muscular physique. Upon further inspection, she decided he wasn’t one of the many legitimate princes in attendance, as they typically wore a small golden royal insignia on their jackets.
But whoever he was, he exuded power and confidence, and while she wasn’t easily turned into a quaking puddle of hormones, her body was having an extreme visceral reaction to his sudden presence on the balcony.
Spasms of heat besieged her womanly core, and her nipples went painfully hard in the confines of her bodice.
Gathering her senses, she cleared her throat and offered him her hand. “Hello. I’m Cora. And you are?”
He grasped her hand and squeezed harder than she expected. When she tried to pull away, he didn’t release her. Instead, he kept holding her hand and rubbing his thumb on the soft underside of her wrist. Goosebumps rose on her arms and her heart pounded faster.
Finally, he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora. I can tell you’re not from around here. American, I presume? I’ve been watching you all evening. My name is Akeen, and I’m the man who’s going to convince you to stay in Ismallia.”
The pretty blonde’s eyes went wide, before she flushed profusely and released a nervous laugh.
Akeen’s groin tightened.
He’d been watching her long enough to know she’d come to the wedding celebration alone. He’d come by himself too, and he’d been scoping out the gathering for a single woman to warm his bed tonight when he’d spotted her sitting at a table, sipping champagne by herself. Though she’d smiled occasionally while watching people dance, he’d also noticed brief flashes of sadness that he’d felt an inexplicable need to erase.
When she’d licked a drop of champagne off her bottom lip, the primal urge to claim her had roused his cock to hardness in a single heartbeat.
Except now, he wasn’t thinking about just one night.
His balls fucking ached standing this close to her.
Once wouldn’t be enough. Hell, twice wouldn’t be enough.
He wanted to toss her over his shoulder, carry her to his private quarters upstairs, and fuck her over and over again.
“The man who’s going to convince me to stay in Ismallia. Hmm. So, is that your go-to line when you’re trying to get into a girl’s pants?” Cora asked before grinning into her champagne. She took a sip and then—holy fuck—once more licked a drop of the bubbly liquid off her bottom lip.
Akeen stepped forward, reached around her, and set his glass of champagne on the surface of the thick iron balcony railing. He remained close to her, peering down into her startled blue eyes, still holding her hand and stroking her wrist. “Tell me your favorite pick-up line, my little sunflower, and I’ll use it.”
She gave him a tight smile, but he detected the rapid beat of her pulse in her neck and the quick intakes of her breath. Her mind was telling her to escape him, but her body wanted the same thing he did—a night of raw, primal fucking. In fact, he would bet his entire fortune her panties were soaked right now. She squirmed awkwardly in place, as if to confirm his suspicions.
Then she lifted her eyebrows, and, with exaggerated movements that forced him to step back an inch, lifted her champagne and took another sip, finally downing the contents of the glass. Though it was now empty, she still held it between them like a barrier.
“Well,” she said, her gaze traveling upward, “if you were especially perceptive, you would have noticed I was staring down upon the beautiful garden. Rather than insinuating that sex with you is going to be so good that I fall madly in love with you and decide to never return to America, you could have asked me to accompany you for a walk in the garden. Cheesy, bold pick-up lines don’t usually work on me, Akee
n. You’re dressed like a gentleman, the least you could do is play the part and not come at me like a rutting boar.”
He released her hand and grabbed her empty glass, setting it next to his.
God, she was perfect.
If he wasn’t busy envisioning all the ways to put her smart mouth to use, he would’ve been quicker with a retort.
Cora was a challenge that he fucking accepted.
Ismallian women normally dropped at his feet, but that’s because they recognized him as the wealthy bastard son of the king, a powerful man who advised his father and worked behind the scenes in Parliament. It thrilled him that this American hadn’t the faintest idea about his identity.
“I prefer a more direct approach, Cora,” he finally said. “I saw you. I watched you. I decided I wanted you. I will have you.”
She laughed and gave him an incredulous look. As she shook her head in disagreement, her long golden curls shifted over her shoulders, and the scent of her floral shampoo tickled his nose. “Wow, you sure are cocky. Let me guess—you’re so handsome and wealthy, that most women normally fall straight into your arms.”
“Actually, they usually fall right into my bed.”
She grinned, her eyes lighting up the night. “Wow, again. As tempting as crawling between the sheets with a total stranger sounds, I’m going to have to pass.”
“In that case,” he replied quickly, “I would like to invite you to accompany me on a stroll through the garden.” He stepped back and held out his elbow.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, but surprised him by taking his offered arm. “Well, I suppose a walk won’t hurt. You lead the way, Mr. Cocky.”
