by Kiera Cass
“Of course, you have his eyes and I think his nose, too. And I can see your optimism beaming out sometimes. He gave me that impression as well.”
I soaked up the words, holding on to all the parts of me that were like him. And here I thought Maxon didn’t know him.
“All I’m saying is, it’s okay to be sad about this, but you can be sure the best of him is still around,” he concluded.
I threw my arms around him, and he held me with his free hand. “Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do. Thanks.” I moved back beside him and decided to change the subject before I got too emotional. “What’s this all about?” I asked, nodding toward his full hand.
“Oh.” Maxon fumbled with his thoughts a moment. “These are for you. A late Christmas present.”
He held up the envelope, thick with folded papers. “I can’t believe I’m actually giving this to you, and you have to wait to look at them until I’m not here, but . . . it’s for you to keep.”
“Okay,” I said questioningly as he set the envelope on my bedside table.
“This is a little less embarrassing,” he added playfully, handing me the gift. “Sorry the wrapping is so bad.”
“It’s fine,” I lied, trying not laugh at the crooked seams and tearing at the paper on the back.
Inside, the gift was a frame holding a picture of a house. Not just any house, but a beautiful one. It was a warm yellow color with plush grass that I wanted to put my feet in just from looking at the print. The windows were tall and wide on both stories, with trees offering shade to a section of the lawn. One tree even had a swing hanging from it.
I tried not to look at the house but at the photo itself. I was sure that this little piece of art was something Maxon made himself, though I couldn’t guess when he’d gotten out of the palace to find its subject.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “Did you take it yourself?”
“Oh, no.” He laughed, shaking his head. “The picture isn’t the gift; the house is.”
I tried to let that sink in. “What?”
“I thought you’d want your family close by. It’s a short drive away, with plenty of room. Your sister and her little family would even be comfortable there, I think.”
“Wha . . . I . . .” I stared at him, searching for clarification.
Patient as ever, Maxon gave me the explanation he thought I already understood. “You told me to send everyone home. I did. I had to keep one other girl—those are the rules—but . . . you said that if I could prove I loved you . . .”
“. . . It’s me?”
“Of course it’s you.”
I was speechless. I laughed in shock and started giving him kisses and giggling between each one. Maxon, so pleased with the affection, took every kiss and laughed along with me.
“We’re getting married?” I yelled, kissing him again.
“Yes, we’re getting married.” He chuckled and let me attack him in my excitement. I realized then that I was in his lap. I didn’t remember getting there.
I kissed him on and on . . . and somewhere in there the laughing stopped. After a while, the smiling dwindled. The kisses turned from playful to something much deeper. When I pulled away and looked into his eyes, they were intense, focused.
Maxon held me close, and I could feel his heart racing against my chest. Guided by a deep hunger for him, I pushed his suit coat down his back, and he helped me as best as he could while holding on to me. I let my shoes fall to the floor, thudding a little song on their way down. I felt Maxon’s legs shift underneath me as he slipped his off as well.
Without breaking our kiss, he lifted me, crawling deeper onto the bed and laying me down gently somewhere near the middle. His lips traveled down my neck as I loosened his tie, throwing it somewhere near our shoes.
“You’re breaking a lot of rules, Miss Singer.”
“You’re the prince. You can just pardon me.”
He chuckled darkly, his lips at my throat, my ear, my cheek. I untucked his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. He helped with the last few, sitting up to toss it aside. The last time I’d seen Maxon without his shirt on, I didn’t get to really appreciate it because of the circumstance. But now . . .
I ran my fingers lightly down his stomach, admiring how strong he was. When my hand got to his belt, I gripped it and pulled him back down. He came willingly, dragging a hand up my leg, resting it comfortably on my thigh underneath the layers of my dress.
I was going crazy, wanting so much more of him, aching to know if he’d let me have it. Without even thinking, I reached around and dug my fingers into his back.
Immediately, he stopped kissing me, pulling back to look at me.
“What?” I whispered, terrified to break this moment.
“Does it . . . does it repulse you?” he asked nervously.
“What do you mean?”
“My back.”
I ran a hand down his cheek, staring directly into his eyes, wanting to leave him with no doubt about how I felt.
“Maxon, some of those marks are on your back so they wouldn’t be on mine, and I love you for them.”
He stopped breathing for a second. “What did you say?”
I smiled. “I love you.”
“One more time, please? I just—”
I took his face in both of my hands. “Maxon Schreave, I love you. I love you.”
“And I love you, America Singer. With all that I am, I love you.”
He kissed me again, and I let my hands move to his back, and this time he didn’t pause. He moved his hands beneath me, and I felt his fingers playing with the back of my dress.
“How many damn buttons does this thing have?” he complained.
“I know! It’s—”
Maxon sat up, placing his hands along the bust line of my dress. With one firm pull, he ripped my dress down the front, exposing the slip underneath.
There was a charged silence as Maxon took that in. Slowly, his eyes returned to mine. Without breaking that contact, I sat up, sliding the sleeves of my dress down my back. It took a little bit of work to get it all off; and, by the end of it, Maxon and I were kneeling on my bed, my hardly covered chest pressed to his, kissing slowly.
I wanted to stay up all night with him, to explore this new feeling we’d discovered. It felt as if everything else in the world was gone . . . until we heard a crash in the hall. Maxon stared at the door, seeming to expect it to burst open at any second. He was tense, more frightened than I’d ever seen him.
“It’s not him,” I whispered. “It’s probably one of the girls stumbling to her room, or a maid cleaning something. It’s okay.”
He finally released a breath I didn’t see he was holding and fell back onto the bed. He draped an arm over his eyes, frustrated or exhausted or maybe both.
“I can’t, America. Not like this.”
“But it’s okay, Maxon. We’re safe here.” I lay down beside him, cuddling onto his free shoulder.
He shook his head. “I want to let all the walls down with you. You deserve that. And I can’t now.” He looked over to me. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But I couldn’t hide my disappointment.
“Don’t be sad. I want to take you on a proper honeymoon. Someplace warm and private. No duties, no cameras, no guards.” He wrapped his arms around me. “It will be so much better that way. And I can really spoil you.”
It didn’t sound so bad to wait when he put it that way, but as always, I pushed back. “You can’t spoil me, Maxon. I don’t want anything.”
We were nose to nose by then. “Oh, I know. I don’t intend on giving you things. Well,” he amended, “I do intend on giving you things, but that’s not what I mean. I’m going to love you more than any man has ever loved a woman, more than you ever dreamed you could be loved. I promise you that.”
The kisses that followed were sweet and hopeful, like our first ones. I could feel it, the promise he’d jus
t made, starting now. And I was afraid and excited by the possibility of being loved so much.
“Maxon?”
“Yes?”
“Would you stay with me tonight?” I asked. Maxon raised an eyebrow, and I giggled. “I’ll behave, I promise. Just . . . would you sleep here?”
He looked to the ceiling, debating. Finally he caved. “I will. But I’ll need to leave early.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Maxon took off his pants and socks, neatly stacking his clothes so they wouldn’t be too wrinkled in the morning. He crawled back into the bed, snuggling up with his stomach against my back. One of his arms he laced under my neck and the other he gently wrapped around me.
I loved my bed at the palace. The pillows were like clouds, and the mattress cradled me into it. I was never too warm or too cold under my covers, and the feeling of my nightgown against my skin was almost as if I was wearing air.
But I’d never felt so settled as I did with Maxon’s arms around me.
He placed a gentle kiss behind my ear. “Sleep well, my America.”
“I love you,” I said quietly.
He held me a little tighter. “I love you.”
I lay there, letting the happiness of the moment sink into me. It seemed only seconds later that Maxon’s breathing was slow and steady. He was already asleep.
Maxon never slept.
I must have made him feel safer than I’d imagined. And, after all my worries about how his father acted toward me, he made me feel safe, too.
I sighed, promising myself that we’d talk about Aspen tomorrow. It would need to happen before the ceremony, and I felt sure I knew how to explain things in the best way. For now, I would enjoy this tiny bubble of peace and rest securely in the arms of the man I loved.
CHAPTER 28
I WOKE TO THE FEELING of Maxon sliding an arm around me. Somewhere in the night, I ended up with my head on his chest, and the slow sound of his heartbeat was echoing in my ear.
Without a word, he kissed my hair and went to hold me closer. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was here with Maxon, together, waking up in my bed. This morning he would be giving me a ring. . . .
“We could wake up like this every day,” he mumbled.
I giggled. “You’re reading my mind.”
He sighed contentedly. “How are you feeling, my dear?”
“I feel like punching you for calling me ‘my dear’ mostly.” I poked his bare stomach.
Smiling, he crawled to sit over me. “Fine then. My darling? My pet? My love?”
“Any of those would work, so long as you’ve reserved it solely for me,” I said, my hands mindlessly wandering his chest, his arms. “What am I supposed to call you?”
“Your Royal Husbandness. It’s required by law, I’m afraid.” His own hands glided over my skin, finding a delicate spot on my neck.
“Don’t!” I said, shying away.
His responding smile was triumphant. “You’re ticklish!”
Despite my protests, he started running his fingers all over me, making me shriek at the playful touching.
Nearly as quickly as I began squealing, I stopped. A guard rushed through the door, gun drawn.
This time I screamed, pulling up the sheet to cover myself. I was so frightened that it took me a moment to realize the determined eyes of the guard belonged to Aspen. It felt as if my face caught on fire, I was so humiliated.
Aspen looked stricken. He couldn’t even put a sentence together as his eyes flashed back and forth between Maxon in his underwear and me draped in a sheet to cover mine.
My shock was finally broken by a deep laugh.
For as terrified as I was, Maxon was the picture of ease. In fact, he seemed pleased at being caught. His voice was a little smug as he spoke. “I assure you, Leger, she’s perfectly safe.”
Aspen cleared his throat, unable to look either of us in the eye. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
I fell over, moaning into my pillow. I would never live that down. I should have told Aspen how I felt on the plane when I had the chance.
Maxon came to hug me. “Don’t be so embarrassed. It’s not as if we were naked. And it’s bound to happen in the future.”
“It’s so humiliating,” I wailed.
“To be caught in bed with me?” The pain in his voice was clear. I sat up and faced him.
“No! It’s not you. It’s just, I don’t know, this was supposed to be private.” I ducked my head and played with a piece of the blanket.
Tenderly, Maxon stroked my cheek. “I’m sorry.” I looked up at him, his voice too sincere to ignore. “I know it’s going to be hard for you, but people will always be looking at our lives now. For the first few years, there will probably be a lot of interference. All the kings and queens have had only children. Some by choice, I’m sure; but after the difficulty my mother had, they’ll want to make sure we can even have a family.”
He stopped talking, his eyes having moved from my face to a spot on the bed.
“Hey,” I said, cupping his cheek. “I’m one of five, remember? I have really good genes in that department. It’ll be all right.”
He gave me a weak smile. “I really hope so. Partly because, yes, we’re duty bound to produce heirs. But also . . . I want everything with you, America. I want the holidays and the birthdays, the busy seasons and lazy weekends. I want peanut butter fingerprints on my desk. I want inside jokes and fights and everything. I want a life with you.”
Suddenly the last few minutes were erased from my mind. The growing warmth in my chest was pushing everything else away.
“I want that, too,” I assured him.
He smiled. “How about we make it official in a few hours?”
I shrugged. “I guess I don’t have any other plans today.”
Maxon tackled me on the bed, covering me with kisses. I would have let him kiss me like that for hours, but Aspen seeing us together was enough. There was no way I’d be able to stop my maids from gushing if they saw this.
He got dressed, and I pulled on my robe. It should have felt funny, maybe, this little moment in the afterward. All I could think about, though, as I watched Maxon cover his scars with his shirt, was how incredible this was. This thing I’d never wanted to happen was making me so happy.
Maxon gave me one last kiss before opening the door and heading on his way. It was harder to part with him than I thought it would be. I told myself it was only for a few hours and that the wait would be so worth it.
Before I closed the door, I heard Maxon whisper, “The lady would appreciate your discretion, officer.”
There was no response, but I could imagine Aspen’s solemn nod. I stood behind the closed door, debating what to say, wondering if I should even say anything. Minutes passed, but I knew I had to face Aspen. I couldn’t move forward with everything that was going to happen today without talking to him first. I drew in a breath and nervously opened the door. He tilted his head toward the hallway listening for voices. Finally Aspen turned his accusing eyes my way, and the weight of his stare broke me.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed.
He shook his head. “It’s not as if I didn’t know it was coming. It was just a shock.”
“I should have told you,” I said, stepping into the hall.
“It doesn’t matter. I just can’t believe you slept with him.”
I put my hands on his chest. “I didn’t, Aspen. I swear.”
And then, at the last possible moment, everything was ruined.
Maxon stepped around the corner, holding Kriss by the hand. His eyes locked on to me, body pressed into Aspen with the intensity of my defense. I backed away, but not quickly enough. Aspen turned to face Maxon, prepared to give an excuse but still too stunned to speak.
Kriss’s mouth dropped open, and she quickly covered it with a hand. Looking into Maxon’s shocked eyes, I shook my head, trying to explain without word
s that this was all a misunderstanding.
It was only a second before Maxon regained his cool demeanor. “I found Kriss in the hall and was coming to explain my choice to you both before the cameras showed up, but it seems we have other things to discuss.”
I looked at Kriss and was at least consoled by the fact that there was no triumph in her eyes. On the contrary, she looked sad for me.
“Kriss, would you please return to your room? Quietly?” Maxon instructed.
She curtsied and disappeared down the hall, eager to get away from the situation. Maxon took a deep breath before looking at us again.
“I knew it,” he said. “I told myself I was crazy, because surely you would have told me if I was right. You were supposed to be honest with me.” He rolled his eyes. “I cannot believe I didn’t trust myself. From that first meeting, I knew it. The way you looked at him, how distracted you were. That damn bracelet you wore, the note on the wall, all those times when I thought I had you and then suddenly lost you again . . . it was you,” he said, turning to Aspen.
“Your Majesty, this is my fault,” Aspen lied. “I pursued her. She made it perfectly clear that she had no intentions of being in a relationship with anyone but you, but I went after her anyway.”
Without responding to Aspen’s excuses, he walked right up to him, looking him in the eye. “What’s your name? Your first name?”
He swallowed. “Aspen.”
“Aspen Leger,” he said, testing the words. “Get out of my sight before I send you to New Asia to die.”
Aspen’s breath caught. “Your Majesty, I—”
“GO!”
Aspen looked at me once, then turned and walked away.
I stood there, silent and still, afraid to risk a peek into Maxon’s eyes. When I finally did, he nudged his chin toward my room, and I went in, with him following me. I turned to see him close the door and run his hand through his hair one time. He moved to face me, and I saw his eyes catch on the unmade bed. He laughed humorlessly to himself.
“How long?” he asked quietly, still in control.
“Do you remember that fight—” I started.
Maxon erupted. “We’ve been fighting since the day we met, America! You’ll have to be more specific!”
