“You ask like I have a choice,” I say. I’m going to run. Run far away as soon as you crazy people leave me alone.
“You haven’t asked if you’re allowed to go back to your old life,” he notes, raising an eyebrow.
“Am I?”
“No,” he says. “Trying to leave would only draw the Prince’s ire. And Prince Titus is not a wise man to cross. But you already figured that out, didn’t you?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Are you going to tell him about this?” I ask. About what I don’t know exactly, but it seems like Calian is seeing straight through to my intentions, and if he’s going to go to Prince Titus with what he suspects, I don’t think I’ll make it far.
He favors me with a small smile, looking down in a wistful way as he hefts a glass paperweight from a desk. “Officially, I’m an arm of the royal Burkewood family. I do precisely as they command without question. But between you and I? I was never officially asked to report my suspicions about you to the Prince. I was only asked to bring you here safely and teach you what I could about our city.”
I smile, feeling like I’m seeing Calian for the first time since he picked me up outside the restaurant only a few hours ago. It already feels like days ago--like it was in another life entirely. “Thank you.”
“Please, don’t thank me,” says Calian. “In truth, you would be wise to avoid telling me anything you don’t want the Princes or the Queen to know. If they thought to ask me a direct question, I would answer them truthfully.”
“I understand,” I say.
He sets the paperweight down carefully, finally looking back up to me. “Running away would be a terrible risk, Princess. Prince Titus holds grudges as lovingly and with as much care as some people keep pets. If he put half as much effort into being a good Prince, he would have united the Shrouded Kingdoms by now.”
“Noted,” I say carefully. “What do you know about his brother?”
“Roark?” asks Calian with a sly grin. “You wouldn’t be the first who looked past the younger brother for the older. Prince Roark Burkewood is something of an enigma to me, I must admit. His younger brother and mother have no problem ordering me around and using me like a common slave, which means I overhear very much and have opportunities to see what kind of people they are. Prince Roark seldom uses my services, and when he does, he’s purely professional about it.”
“So you can’t tell me anything more about him?” I ask, trying not to let the disappointment in my voice show through too much.
“I didn’t say that,” says Calian. “You asked what I knew. I know very little, but if you had asked what I suspect or what rumors I can share, then I would have much more to talk about.”
“Okay, then what are the rumors about him?”
“Some say he was the one who killed his father--”
“The king was murdered?”
“Most likely,” says Calian. “Unless he rolled over in his sleep and suffocated himself on his own pillow.”
“Do you think Roark did it?”
“Personally? No. Prince Roark has never struck me as the type to sneak around and play subtle games. He’s a man of direct force and conviction. I believe if he wanted his father dead, he would have killed him in broad daylight or whenever the conviction struck him, and he would have paid no mind to who saw.”
“You make him sound like a monster,” I say.
“Monsters come in many forms, Princess. Something about Prince Roark does unsettle me, but I hardly think he should be your biggest concern.”
“Who should be my biggest concern, then?”
“Do not give Prince Titus or Queen Korintha any reason to doubt your loyalty to this marriage. That is all I can say. But you should get some rest, Princess. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
With that, Calian nods and takes off down the stairs at a brisk pace, leaving me with nothing but the retreating sound of his footsteps echoing upwards. I look around the huge room, alone for the first time since I’ve been brought here. I move to the window, surveying the city beneath me. Even with it all right in front of my eyes, it’s so hard to believe. This is all real, isn’t it? Real and magical and terrible all at the same time.
I wonder how many women in my position would jump at the chance to marry Prince Titus and live the life of a Princess, despite the coldness I saw in his eyes. Most probably would. But one of the only ways I survived this long was knowing that no matter how poorly my family treated me, one day I’d be free of them. I’d have the freedom to meet the right guy and marry him, and I’d be able to look back on my youth proudly because I’d know I fought through it and came out on top. Marrying Titus would lock me into a life of the same mistreatment and abuse. I don’t know how I feel that so surely, but I do.
So I do the only thing I can see left to do. I hike up my skirt and fly down the stairs as fast as I can, retracing my steps toward the exit of the palace, slowing down to avoid looking suspicious when I pass guards, and then speeding up again when no one is around. My heart thuds in my ears so loud I can barely hear anything but the wind rushing past my ears and the click of my heels on the marbled floors.
I’m in sight of the huge doors I came in through when I hear fast, heavy footsteps behind me.
“No!” I shout, not caring anymore who hears. My brain has shifted into survival mode, and I have no thought but to claw, bite, and tear my way out of this place that would be my prison, no matter the cost. Maybe my life on the outside was miserable, but it was just about to change. I was going to go off to college and find a job and start a new life. Surely that would be better than marrying that block of ice who calls himself a prince.
I bank right, heading for a long hallway full of doors. I distantly hope that I can duck into a room and lose my pursuer, but when I glance over my shoulder I see an athletic man in light clothing gaining on me fast. I take the corner blindly, making it only a half step before I collide with a tall man who seems to be made entirely of hard, warm muscle. It’s like running into a wall, and I stagger backwards after the impact, coughing and trying to catch my breath.
A hand grips me from behind, but when I look up and see the man I bumped into, I barely notice it.
Prince Roark.
His black hair is pushed perfectly away from his face, which is a pleasant mixture of classic, regal features but with just the right touch of rugged--from the stubble on his strong jaw to his breathtaking eyes and striking eyebrows. He wears some sort of clothing that looks like a mixture of armor and every-day clothes, with a leather cuff over his arm and a breastplate of leather squares neatly sewn together strapped over his chest, along with two high neck-guards of hard, curved leather that rise on the side of his head to just below his ears.
“Prince Roark,” says the man behind me, who I see now to be a guard that can’t be past his mid twenties. “Pardon me. I need to take Princess Elizabeth back to Prince Titus.”
“That won’t be necessary,” says Roark.
He looks past me, as if I’m invisible, speaking to the guard over my shoulder. I watch him as he speaks, taking in the flawless shape of his mouth and the row of white teeth within. How could someone so beautiful be the monster Calian implied?
“Prince Titus will want to see that she is disciplined. Sir,” adds the guard. “I should really see to--”
“We needn’t wake Titus. Come. I’ll see to it that she’s disciplined. You can stand outside if you prefer. When my brother asks if you’re sure she was taught a lesson, you’ll be able to say you heard everything.”
A chill runs through me. Disciplined? I have no idea what to expect, but the guard is already pushing me to follow Prince Roark, who towers over both of us with his broad, lean body. He leads us through a winding hallway to a heavy door that opens to a dark stairwell. He steps down the stairs, flicking on a light as we go.
“I was just exercising,” I say when we’re half way down the stairs. Exercising? Really?
“Do you often exercis
e in a dress?” asks Roark. “And in high heels”
I clear my throat. “And what were you doing down here in the middle of the night?”
He shoots me a frosty look over his shoulder before apparently deciding he doesn’t have to answer me. We arrive outside a tall door ornately carved with screaming faces stacked upon each other.
“I’d like to go back to my room,” I say in a strained voice. “Please.”
“Wait outside,” says Roark to the guard, who looks like he knows better than to cross the Prince, even if he doesn’t like the orders he has been given. The guard nods his head, standing with his back to the wall just beside the door.
Roark leads me into a room full of what appears to be torture equipment. The only somewhat normal thing in the room is a huge bed in the center of the large space, but it’s not an ordinary bed. There are no blankets, and the “mattress” is just a leather pad with straps and chains and hooks all along the edges. Whips, paddles, chains, ropes, and countless devices I can’t even begin to guess the meaning of line the walls. Machines that look like exercise equipment for the deranged stand ominously around the edge of the room, too.
“Please,” I say again. “I admit I was trying to escape, but I won’t anymore. I’ll smile and nod and do whatever he asks of me.”
“I’m sure you would, Princess,” says Roark, who has his back to me as he runs his fingers along a row of paddles dangling from the wall. He grabs one made of black leather and gives it an experimental swing through the air. “But I think if my brother found out about your little excursion, you wouldn’t be doing much smiling.”
My stomach turns cold. I take a few steps back, bumping against the wall. I could try the door, but the guard outside would surely stop me, and I saw how easily he caught up to me before. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just scared.”
Prince Roark approaches me with hard eyes. He stops just inches from me and bends his head so his breath is hot on my ear. “Make it sound good, or my brother will be sure to punish you, but he will not go soft.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m scared.”
His voice is still low, so quiet I’m sure the guard outside can’t hear. “It’s your choice, Princess. Let me paddle you softly, or let my brother find out you went unpunished and risk whatever punishment he dreams up.”
I close my eyes hard, trying to calm my breathing.
“Listen,” he says, kneeling slightly so we’re eye to eye. “Listen to my breaths. Match their pace. Calm yourself and you’ll be fine.”
I focus in on the slow, steady pace of his breaths, and after a short time I’m able to match their speed, feeling the calm that comes with them, and even feeling my heart rate slow. “You think he would really hurt me?” I ask.
“I think he would. Yes,” says Roark.
“Okay then… Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just do this,” I say. My heart is beating out of control and hot blood is rushing through me. I’m going to let a gorgeous prince paddle me, and even the idea makes my pussy glow with heat. I’m surprised by my body’s reaction, though. I’ve never even come close to anything BDSM. I even went as far as to think it was a weird thing for people to be into, but I guess you can’t always choose what turns you on, and in this case, I think even if Roark asked me to watch football with him I’d get turned on.
He nods. “Turn your back to me.”
I do as he says, feeling the frantic breath start to creep up again but remembering the sound of his calm and emulating it.
“Hands on the wall, Princess,” he orders louder this time with a voice like steel, a voice that holds no question of command--of power.
I press my palms against the cold stone walls, squeezing my eyes shut and thinking about my breathing.
“Now,” he says, quietly again and leaning over me so that my ass is pressed against his hips. I quiver at the touch, at feeling him against me like this, and I distantly wonder if the touch is intentional, or if he notices at all. “Lift your dress. It will sound louder on your bare skin and I won’t have to hit you as hard.”
I shake, hands refusing to move. “You won’t look, will you?” I ask.
“We don’t have long,” he says. “The guard will start to suspect soon.”
I steel myself. What do I have to lose, anyway? I’m in a place no one has ever heard of, alone in a dark room with a gorgeous Prince who shouldn’t exist, and in the span of a few hours I’ve gone from having dinner with my family to contemplating letting a jaw-droppingly hot stranger spank my bare ass with a leather paddle in the dungeon of a palace. It’s hard to think straight, and feeling his hips against my ass admittedly has heat blossoming between my legs, not to mention the places it’s making my mind wander to.
I reach back with one hand, hiking up my dress until it’s bunched above my waist and my ass is on not-so-proud display for him.
“Panties too,” he says.
I reach for them, but his hand grips my wrist. “I was kidding about the panties,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I can work around them.”
I’m too mortified to speak, so I slap my hand back against the wall and press my forehead into the stone, wishing I could pop right through the wall and run away from here without ever looking back.
The paddle whips across my ass with a healthy popping sound. I jump a little, but more from surprise than from the pain, which is mild at best. There’s a faint tingling and a slight burning from where he hit me, but it’s nowhere near what I imagined. I steal a look backward and find him breathing heavily now, much more heavily than when he had me mirror his calm breaths. His eyes are on my ass and there’s something in his expression I can’t puzzle out, but he brings the paddle back and slaps it across the other side of my ass, this time a little harder.
“Oh!” I gasp. The pain this time enough to make me jump, sending a red flash of heat from my ass all the way up my spine. I still feel the tingling circle of contact moments after he pulls the paddle away, and as the embers of the stinging die out, I’m surprised to find the faint heat I felt between my legs is now like a fire, and a flurry of confusing thoughts are tearing through my mind. Dirty thoughts, and not about my husband-to-be, but about Roark.
Those are crazy thoughts though. Dangerous thoughts, and I do my best to silence them before they have a chance to take hold.
“You’ll need to make it sound more painful than that,” says Roark, “Or my brother may think I went easy on you and finish the job himself.”
He brings the paddle down again, just barely missing the spot from before. I jump a little, but the pain barely registers now. All I can think about is the way his command over me is driving my body wild. I think about how completely and totally I’m in his power, and about how much power he has in this moment, and every instinct in my body is crying out to touch him.
6
Roark
I watch the faint circle of red rise up just beside the hem of her panties, loving the way goosebumps rise on her smooth ass. With every blow, I feel the darkness within me recede. With every gasp from her beautifully plump lips, I feel myself stepping more and more into control. But no blood has been shed. No men lie bleeding at my feet. And if the growing patch of moisture on Elizabeth’s panties are any indication, It’s safe to say no harm has even been done here.
I bring my arm back to swing again, but realize I don’t need to. The darkness has retreated farther into me than I’ve ever known it to, and for the first time in years I feel at peace. I feel calm, collected, and even hopeful.
“That,” I say, barely catching my breath. “That should be enough.”
She stands, giving me one last cock-stiffening view of her ass and those white panties before she pulls her dress down. She turns her large, innocent green eyes up at me, lips slightly parted. “What happens now?” she asks.
I clench my teeth together because I know the truth. Elizabeth must marry my brother, and I have no choice but to send her back
to her room where she will wait until he summons her tomorrow. Unless I can think of an alternative that doesn’t end with the city in flames. “Now? Our time together is over. You go back to your room, and back to my brother.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something but closes it, lowering her eyes and turning her back to me.
I wait too, half-hoping she’ll say something. What, though? What is it I hope she’ll say? Do I hope she’ll profess her undying love for me because I beat her ass with a leather paddle? Do I want her to task me to help get her away from here to somewhere safe?
“Are you going to open the door for me?” she asks.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, moving past her to put my hand on the door. “Elizabeth. You should kn--”
The guard opens the door before I can. I can tell from his expression he’s impatient by now, and he reaches to grab Elizabeth’s arm. Quicker than thought, I slap his hand away. “She can walk without you man-handling her,” I say.
He looks at me, a touch longer than he should given his station, and then leads Elizabeth back up the way we came down.
I linger long after they’ve gone, surveying the room as if seeing it for the first time. I’ve been down to the dungeons, of course. I’ve never used any of the implements here on a woman though--let alone a woman as alluring as Elizabeth. My cock still throbs against my pants almost painfully from the memory of her. Knowing the pain was bringing her pleasure drove me on, setting something ablaze within me that I fear can only be calmed in one way. With Elizabeth I may have found a way to calm my darkness, but in doing so, I may have unleashed an entirely new beast with appetites all its own.
I leave the dungeons and head to the eastern wing of the palace, which is reserved for minor nobles. I find Dirk’s door and knock impatiently. I know he’ll either be asleep or with a woman--maybe more than one--but I frankly don’t give a shit.
I hear a loud thump followed by an annoyed curse. “The fuck do you want?” comes a groggy voice from inside.
Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Page 83
