by Gemma Hart
Xander sat next to me. Even through the riotous emotions I felt—anger, unbelievable pain, heartache, guilt—it still felt comforting to have him next to me. His very presence seemed to strengthen my own resolve.
“What about Easy Team?” he asked.
Commander Wolffe made a disappointed grimace. “Unfortunately, with the Princess’s location being revealed, we cannot interfere in this matter. This is now public, government matters. International matters. Easy Team would not be welcomed.”
I heard Xander make a grunt of disappointment but he made no other sounds to mark his change of plans. He still intended to accompany me to France.
Moments after the reports of my uncle’s execution, reports came flooding in about my whereabouts spotted in Wyoming. It would be just a matter of time before reporters flooded the state, which was why we couldn’t go back to the airport that I had tried to escape through. It was too much of a risk.
But even I was disappointed in hearing that the skilled and powerful Easy Team wouldn’t be accompanying us. After all, a member of the royal family had just been executed publically. It would’ve given me a little more comfort to know I had the strength of Easy Team behind me.
But Commander Wolffe was right. Most governments would not want to be seen publically endorsing mercenaries. Easy Team would have to lay low this mission.
“This is definitely not an ideal situation,” Commander Wolffe said. He looked pointedly at the screen, his dark eyes grave and somber. “Your Highness, my condolences for your loss. Your uncle loved you very much and had pressed upon me early on how precious and important you were to him.”
Tears stung my eyes. It was amazing how I could still have more tears to shed. I felt like I had cried out my body weight in tears.
“Stay close to Bear,” Commander Wolffe advised. “Your uncle had been wary of even the people of France, worried about infiltrators and spies. And after what’s happened now, I can only imagine the tensions have ramped up.”
I nodded, fully aware of the dangers I headed towards. I felt like a sacrificial lamb going to the slaughter. Without my uncle now, I wasn’t heading to Loranza to negotiate a hostage rescue. I was now heading over to try and peacefully negotiate an end to this tumultuous revolt for Loranza. In the end, even Uncle Gregory had loved the country and had died hoping for peace to return to Loranza. I couldn’t let that wish go unfulfilled.
It had been his last words, after all.
I swallowed hard.
Xander grabbed my hand under the table. “She’ll stick to me like white on rice,” he promised.
Commander Wolffe nodded. “I’m sorry we can’t provide more aid or protection. To both of you,” he said. “Like I said, it’s not an ideal situation.”
No. It definitely was not.
***
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
Xander sat across from me in the private jet, his large frame taking up the entire leather seat. He had been looking out the window at the dark night sky as we flew across the Atlantic.
He looked up in surprise at my question and then smiled. I marveled at the power of his smile. As casual and gentle as it was, it somehow eased the anxious tension within me a bit. It was as if he knew I had only spoken to distract myself from my own inner turmoil.
“I was thinking how every time I flew across the ocean, it was always in a Blackhawk or a Chinook,” he said with a faint smile on his lips. “I was always armed to the teeth and on the verge of usually dropping right into enemy fire.”
I gave a small shaky smile as I made a gesture around the luxuriantly decorated private jet. “Feels pretty different then, huh?”
He locked eyes with me.
“No,” he replied. “Not really.”
And I knew he was right. We might be sitting on white leather chairs in a private jet but we were still flying into a warzone with the enemy closing in on us. And there was no guarantee that I would make it on to a return flight.
But looking at Xander, I could see and feel his support with every fiber of my being. Although he sat in relative ease in his seat, I could see his body sprung and ready for what was to come.
From nearly the moment I had met him, I had seen Xander as the owner and rancher of Devil’s Horn. He had been casual and easygoing with me and had made my transition into small town life easy.
But as soon as Commander Wolffe had given us the time and place of our flights, a transformation had taken over Xander. Instantly, his stance had become straighter and exuded something more than authority. It was…experience.
This was a man who was used to seeing blood and bullets fly.
His walk took on a more precise and even stride and his eyes became sharper. I was watching a mercenary come out into action.
Of course, as we boarded the plane, he had boarded under the title of escort. No foreign government would appreciate a princess bringing in a hired mercenary. It sent all the wrong messages for someone going in to peace negotiations.
And to play the part, Xander had no weapons on him. Although it did feel unnerving to go into battle without any arms, Xander’s presence alone somehow seemed enough.
“What about you?” Xander suddenly asked. “What are you thinking about?”
I palmed the armrests of my seat, feeling smooth leather slide against my sweaty, slightly shaky palms.
I tilted my head a little to the side, eyeing this man that the universe and chance had thrown into my life.
“I’m thinking about how to tell you I’m sorry,” I answered softly.
Xander raised a brow in surprised, clearly not expecting that kind of answer.
“Sorry? For what?”
I sighed. “Well, two things really,” I said. “I’m sorry I tried to run off on you that day.”
Xander’s lips twitched. “Which day?” he teased.
I bit my lip, smiling despite myself. I had tried to run away quite a few times. “The only day I’m actually sorry for. The day at the airport in Wyoming. I know blowing my cover has just made everything a lot more difficult for a lot more people, including you.”
Xander shook his head dismissively. “Who could blame you though? You wanted to do your best to rescue you uncle. You acted on pure love and instinct and I can’t blame you for that.”
I pressed my lips tightly, willing them to stop shaking. I’d been running on fumes now for hours. All my energy had been used up by such intense emotions that all I had left were the ghost fumes of energy.
“And I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” I finally said. “It’s not your battle and now you are going to war without your comrades or your weapons. I-I’m sorry.”
Xander stared at me in silence for a beat, making me squirm a little under his gaze.
“Come here,” he said finally. He opened his arms, gesturing for me to come. I hesitated and he waved his hands at me. “Come here,” he said again.
I stood up and crossed the small space and stood in front of Xander’s seat. He shifted a little and then pulled me between his legs. A small table stood between our seats and my butt now rested against it as I stood trapped between Xander’s powerful thighs.
He held my hands as he kept me pinned in front of him. His large capable hands held my own smaller hands. I could feel the smoothness of old callouses and the roughness of new ones from when he worked on the ranch.
He looked down at our hands as well. I watched as he rubbed his thumbs across my palms, studying the size difference. Truly, in his hands, my own looked delicate and fragile.
“Don’t be sorry for that,” he said, still looking at our hands. “Don’t ever be sorry for that. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”
He looked up, turning those lethal hazel eyes on me. “Because of you, I’ve realized what it means to truly have a person worth fighting for,” he said, holding my gaze. Even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. I was entranced by this powerful, protective, loving man that held my hands. “And that’
s something I wouldn’t trade away for anything in this world.”
He brought my hands up to his lips and kissed each one. “And because I love you, your battles are my battles. Whatever is your fight, is mine. So don’t be sorry. I have all the comrades I need in you, sweetheart.”
And with that, he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me heatedly, warming me from head to toe and giving me a totally different reason to shiver.
***
“Your Majesty, if you will follow me,” an embassy aide said as he led us into the Loranza embassy in Paris.
The hallway was simply decorated but the ornate archway and columns spoke of the history of the old building. The embassy should’ve been bustling with activity but at the moment it was nearly deserted. I saw a few people in black suits standing guard around entry points but none of the regular embassy employees.
“Wouldn’t a hotel have been a safer place?” Xander asked, carefully eyeing our surroundings. I could tell he was taking mental pictures of each doorway, each window.
The aide gave a helpless shrug and said, “Right now, with how much of a high value target Her Majesty is, we would have to evacuate an entire hotel for her to stay in one room. It would be too much of a security risk to have her stay amongst so many people. No hotel would want to risk that kind of danger or scandal, even for a princess.”
“But the embassy is just as much of a target,” Xander argued. “Are the posted guards French or Loranzian?”
“French,” the aide replied. “We have done our best to ensure that the embassy has been fully covered.”
Although it was easier to protect a smaller space like an embassy than a larger space like an entire hotel, clearly the danger was still prevalent. And Xander’s face showed his dissatisfaction with the plans.
At least hotels were on major roads. Lots of cameras and witnesses around to take note of anything suspicious. Lots of wide roads and corners to run down or cover.
But the embassy was on a smaller road, tucked away from commercial traffic. There were tons of smaller, winding alleyways and gutters that allowed for people to hide in the shadows. And Xander had no idea who these guards were, what their qualifications or expertise were. As a matter of fact, neither did I. As a guest of France, I had to trust that they would do their best for me.
“Here we are,” the aide said, gesturing to a large ornate door. “The Ambassador’s suite. I hope they are suitable for Your Majesty. Please, get some rest. I know the flight must’ve been exhausting.”
He gave a low bow before excusing himself. Xander watched the man go before opening the door and guiding me in, his hand on my lower back.
The suite was large. There was a cream colored sitting room with two overstuffed sofas and a gleaming walnut coffee table. Connected to the sitting room was a beautifully decorated bedroom that had a large four poster bed that was buffeted by a chaise lounge at the foot.
It was an impressive suite.
Xander strode through the rooms, checking the windows and peering behind wardrobes and chests, presumably to check to make sure the room wasn’t bugged.
I stood by the door, unable to believe I was really here, in France. Tired, emotionally numb, and frightened, I had a hard time I was even standing on my own two feet.
I suddenly remembered that I wanted to speak to the aide and ask if Uncle Gregory had had any personal aides here in the embassy that could maybe give us clues as to what he had been doing in terms of negotiating.
I grabbed the doorknob and opened the door but before the door was even half an inch opened, I heard two voices approaching down the hallway. I froze, the door still barely ajar.
They spoke in French but I understood them completely.
“—as if anyone would believe her,” a woman said snidely.
“A spoiled princess is all she is and no matter how sad she tries to look, she’s fooling no one. Did you see her eyes? How do you think she got them so puffy looking?” the companion asked.
“She probably thought about all her jewels and crowns disappearing and then cried a river on the plane ride over here,” the first woman answered with a laugh.
The two burst into peals of laughter.
“Honestly,” the second woman continued, “she didn’t even try and save her own uncle! I don’t even know why she’s here. It’s a waste of our government money housing a brat like her! The quicker we get away with these spoiled little royal mooches, the better off the world will be.”
Her friend murmured an agreement before gasping.
“Quick! Let’s hurry! We were supposed to be downstairs to tidy the main reception room fifteen minutes ago. You know how Monsieur Feyte gets about tardiness!”
Two matching steps rushed down the hall, presumably towards the stairway.
I gently closed the door.
“Sofia?”
I turned around and saw Xander standing in the sitting room. He stared at me quizzically as I stood by the door.
“Are you okay?”
“A spoiled princess is all she is and no matter how sad she tries to look, she’s fooling no one.”
For nearly a decade, I had been raised under the iron rod of Minister Pryto. I had been beaten, starved, verbally abused, mentally tortured, all within the confines of what was supposed to be my home.
Then I had been thrown out of my country, flown to Switzerland where I knew no one, to be educated amongst strangers. I had been relieved initially but I knew this was not my ultimate place. Not when I was Crown Princess.
I had tried so many times to come back to Loranza but to no avail. Uncle Gregory had tried to cajole, convince, connive members of Parliament to ask me back but they were all under the thumb of Pryto. No one would allow me back.
Yes, I had then taken my frustration, my pain, and thrown it all on trips to the Riviera and Hollywood red carpets. I drank and partied so that I could forget the hollowness that rang like a bell within me.
But I couldn’t party forever. I couldn’t run from the truth forever. And I had eventually grown up enough to go back to school. I studied and entered the best university under an assumed name so that I would receive no special treatments from professors. I graduated at the top of my class so that I could at least gain the knowledge worthy of a national leader in the hopes that some day, I would have the honor to actually lead.
My entire life had been sacrificed for Loranza. And now, so had Uncle Gregory’s.
I knew all of this to be true. After all, I had lived it.
But hearing those casually tossed comments…in my exhausted emotional state, it nearly broke me to hear those words.
I was more than just a spoiled princess. I was more than just a brat.
I had more to offer.
But no one could see that.
“Sof?”
I looked up.
No. Someone saw that. Someone could see that I had more to give than just a good photo.
I slowly walked over to Xander. When I stood in front of him, I looked up quickly at his studying hazel eyes before melting against him, falling across his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, easily holding me to him.
Xander always seemed to see beyond the exterior. He was always able to pinpoint exactly what I was. He saw the scared orphan, the haughty brat, the educated scholar, the lonely princess. He saw all of that and still loved me with a sincerity that brought me to tears.
I leaned my forehead against his hard chest. “I love you,” I said softly, meaning every letter of each word.
Xander’s arms tightened around me before he bodily picked me up. I made a breathless gasp at his easy strength.
He carried me into the bedroom and set me down on the bed, pinning me back against the thick duvet with his body. He looked down at me, my whole world reflected in his eyes.
He ran a hand across my forehead, brushing away the hair that had fallen across my face.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, his deep voice a low rumble. “There’s nowh
ere I’d rather be than right here with you.”
I stared up at him. As silly and cliché as those words seemed to sound, I knew what he meant.
He could be back in Devil’s Horn with Pluto and the wide open land, living comfortably and easily. Or he could be on a mission somewhere with his Easy Team brothers, surrounded by comrades and brotherly unity. Or maybe he could be in L.A., resting in between missions and taking advantage of the California sun and sand.
But being in any of those places meant we wouldn’t have what we had now. We wouldn’t have that meeting of hearts. A mercenary whose life was about sacrifice and a princess who understood what that meant all too well. It wasn’t easy to find someone who could understand what it means to bleed for someone. But in Xander, I found myself.
And yes, there was nowhere else I’d rather be as well.
Danger and all.
“Me too,” I whispered.
Our connection was deep. Down to the marrow. And at the moment, it felt as if we could physically feel the binds that tied us. My words ignited a heat between us that was white hot and immediate.
Xander’s eyes darkened with a longing that was unstoppable before he took my lips in a bruising kiss. He kissed me with a passion that left me open and totally bare.
I gasped against his rough kiss, his stubble scraping harshly against me. I wanted him to take every ounce of me. Take my breath, take my lips, take me all!
I wanted to lose myself in him because only then, would I be home.
With an efficient urgency, we stripped each other of our clothes. In a foreign land, separated from home and comrades, we had only each other. And it only intensified our unity.
His rough hands squeezed my bare breasts, wrenching a cry from my lips as pain and pleasure shot through me like a rubber band. He twisted my nipples between thumb and forefinger, making me writhe and ache for more.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured gruffly. “I want you to feel just how crazy you drive me. I want you to feel just how fucking bad I want you.”
His hand plunged between my thighs, forcibly separating them so his fingers could stroke down my wet folds.
