Dirty Lovely Broken

by Emmy Chandler

  “You sound pretty sure of that.”

  “I’m certain of it.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Why would you possibly think you know him better than I do?”

  She had no answer for that. The truth was that she didn’t know any of the Camdens. Not really. But she would need to, if she were going to survive in Loborough long enough to kill Jude.

  “All I know is that you tell me I can’t leave this room, and Malac tells me I can have clothing and a suite with my own garden. Which of those would you rather believe, if you were me?”

  The pitying look Jude gave her burned all the way into her soul. “Malac tells you nothing but pretty half-truths. Whatever you need to hear in any given moment, to get you to where he wants you. Wouldn’t you rather have the whole truth from me, even if it’s ugly?”

  Maari thought about that for a little while. “I’ve had nothing but ugly since I got here. Sometimes people need to hear something nice, even when they know it’s a lie. Sometimes a pretty lie is like lubrication; it eases the way for something you couldn’t take, otherwise. Something that’s coming at you, whether you want it or not.”

  Jude watched her, and she could see a tide churning behind his eyes, threatening to crash over them both. “You think he was being kind to you, by promising things he can’t deliver? By cuddling with you after he’d fucked your throat raw? After he nearly let you suffocate on his cock?”

  “In his own way? Yes.” She stood and plucked the lilac blanket from the back of her chair, then she wrapped it around herself and tucked the end into her cleavage. “I think that was a kindness. And it’s more than I’ve gotten from you.”

  Fire flashed in Jude’s ice-blue eyes. “Malac knew what Orlann did to you before he got to your room. He wasn’t surprised to find you cocooned in your comforter. He waited until you hit rock-bottom, intentionally.”

  “What?” A bone-deep chill raced up her spine. “How do you know that?”

  “He and I watched Orlann play with you over dinner.”

  Maari spun away from him, fire burning beneath her skin, threatening to roast her alive. It had been hard enough letting Malac care for her, knowing that gave him a vague idea of how she’d been treated. But to find out that he’d already known every humiliatingly detail? Because he’d watched it happen?

  “We saw every bit of it, Maari. Malac knew exactly what state you’d be in when he came for you. He was counting on you to be traumatized, because he can’t play the handsome prince unless there’s something to rescue the princess from.”

  Maari took a deep breath, struggling to draw her thoughts in order. Then she turned, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “And you watched with him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” she shouted, fists curled in impotent rage. “What kind of sick fuck does something like that?”

  Jude stood so fast that she jumped back, startled by both the speed and the inherent aggression of the motion. Gone was the man who’d chuckled at her anger and demanded kisses in the shower. This was the Jude who’d removed her brother’s head from his body. Who’d threatened to march over her entire kingdom. Who’d tossed her into the darkcell for three days without food or water. Who’d demanded her virginity in front of an audience of his brothers and had forbade her tears.

  “You don’t get to make demands of me.” He crossed the room in three thundering steps and ripped the blanket from her, dropping it on the floor at their feet. She glared up at him, spine straight, even as her shoulders trembled at the anger in his voice. In his scent. “You don’t get to cover yourself unless I give you clothing. You don’t leave this room until I say so. You don’t eat until I send food for you. You don’t come until I wring an orgasm from your quivering body. And you do not fucking talk back to me.”

  Jude grabbed her arm and hauled her across the floor while she whimpered, struggling to keep her feet beneath her. “I watched because I could,” he roared as he threw her onto the bed. “Because I fucking own every breath in your lungs and every beat of your heart.” He pushed her legs as wide open as they would go.

  “I watched because no matter how often I let my brothers play with you, you are mine.” Jude shoved his way inside her, thrusting hard. When she tried to push him off, he pinned her wrists to the mattress above her head, and the harder she tried to pull free, the tighter her body clenched around his cock. The wetter she got.

  When she began thrusting her hips up to meet his, he released her hands, probably assuming she’d submitted to the need pulsing through them both. Instead, he’d released a shrieking, wriggling shrew.

  Maari cursed him, thrashing beneath him as if she weren’t sure whether she wanted to force him deeper or buck him off. Her hands clawed at him while her legs clenched around his hips. Lust and rage stormed within her, pitting her entire body in conflict with itself. With her mind and her heart.

  But despite her anger, Maari would not be denied her release. She chased it, grinding up against Jude to take from him the only thing he was good for, other than severing heads and ruining lives. The thing he owed her, if he was going to lock her up and take her body on demand.

  “I shouldn’t let you come,” he growled down at her, as her muscles began to spasm erratically around him. “I should just pull out and leave you here, lying in the cold puddle of your own arousal. Aching and empty.”

  Maari reared up at hissed at him, nails sinking into his arms while she locked her ankles at his back, grinding up into him.

  “Next time you throw a fit, that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll tie you to all four posts of this bed and bring you right to the edge, then leave you here, snarling up at the camera.” He thrust in hard again, and she nearly choked on a groan. “Next time…”

  Then he gave her what she needed, slamming into her hard and fast while his own release rolled over him like a runaway maglev.

  Head thrown back, mouth hanging open on a vulgar moan, Maari didn’t notice, at first, that the door had opened.

  “Daddy?” a soft, high-pitched voice called.

  Jude pulled away from her so fast that he sprayed his release across her thigh, splattering it across the blanket he grabbed to cover himself.

  Stunned, Maari grasped for the sweaty sheet, pulling it over her breasts as Jude sat up on the edge of the bed, soiled blanket draped across his lap. She pressed her legs together, trying to ease the ache of an arrested orgasm as she stared at the small, blond child standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob.

  “Rosa, go back into the hall,” Jude said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Maari stared at him, reeling from the instant change in his bearing as well as the shock of being accosted by the little girl ignoring his instructions, as if she disobeyed the king of Loborough every day.

  The little girl who’d just called him daddy.

  “Who’s that?” The child—Rosa—pointed at Maari with her free hand, rising onto her toes for a better look.

  “Rosa.” Jude’s voice was stern, yet shockingly gentle. “Go into the hall and close the door. I’ll be right there.”

  “But—”

  “Now,” he snapped, and the child jumped, clearly unaccustomed to hearing that tone from him. Then she backed into the hallway and pulled the door closed, staring at Maari through the narrowing opening until the latch caught.

  “You have a daughter?” Maari heard her own voice as if it came from the far end of a tunnel. Or over a weak com signal.

  Jude stood and wiped himself off on the comforter, then he pulled his pants on.

  “You have a fucking daughter?” Maari whispered fiercely. “When were you going to tell me that?”

  He rounded on her, fury narrowing his gaze as he grabbed her chin in another bruising grip. “I don’t owe you anything,” he hissed. “You have nothing to do with anything that goes on beyond that door. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that you have a kid. Do you have a wife too?”

  “If you ask me one more question
, I will turn you over my knee and beat your ass black and blue, then throw you into the darkcell for a week.” He fastened his pants and pulled his shirt on, then he grabbed his boots in one hand. “I’ll send Annah to you. Stay on your back for an hour.” Then he stormed from the room, leaving her all alone in a cooling puddle of his release.

  Annah appeared in the doorway minutes later, looking frightened. “What happened?” she asked as she closed the door at her back, studying the princess in her tangle of bedding, evidently looking for injuries. “The king is on a rampage, and all the servants are terrified.”

  “He has children,” Maari moaned. “I think that means there’s also a wife.”

  Annah gave her a puzzled look as she crossed the room toward the table and the remainder of the princess’s breakfast. “Did you really think the king was a bachelor?” she asked softly. “Why would you think that? What was the first thing your brother did, after his coronation?”

  He’d gotten married. Heirs were one of a sovereign’s top priorities, and Maari had headed up the committee tasked with finding Gareth a bride, before he’d ever even sat on the throne.

  She groaned. Of course Jude was married. Of course he had a—

  “How many children does he have?” Maari asked. “Have you heard anything from the other servants?

  “Two.” Annah brought her the glass of water, though the ice had long since melted.

  “Both daughters. The oldest is four. The little one’s hardly talking.”

  That made sense. If Jude was anything like Gareth, he would have put off getting married until he’d had to—until he’d inherited a crown—and that hadn’t happened until his father was killed five years ago. By Gareth’s hand.

  Which meant that it was her brother’s fault that Jude had a family. That she wasn’t just his concubine; she was the other woman. She was his poor wife’s living nightmare.

  If she killed Jude, she’d be robbing his children of their father. His wife of her husband. She’d be endangering his children’s lives, should Orlann inherit the throne and want to pass it on to his own children.

  “I can’t…I can’t kill a man with children,” she whispered, hand clenched around a water glass slick with condensation. And, she now realized, her plan to end the Camden line by refusing to be bred was moot. Jude had already propagated.

  “Kill him?” Annah crawled onto the bed on her knees, staring at the princess in horror as she took the glass from her and set it on the night stand. “Put that thought right out of your mind. You’d be executed even for trying.”

  “So what? That’s better than this, isn’t it?” She threw her arms out, a gesture encompassing not just her beautiful prison, but her entire existence.

  “No. No it isn’t. It won’t always be like this for you. If they don’t care for you yet, they will. How could they keep from it?” Annah brushed tangled hair back from the princess’s face. “And once you have their hearts, they’ll give you more freedom. They’ll give you anything you want; that’s what wealthy men do for their women. You could have nicer rooms. Beautiful clothing. Wonderful food. And they can give you children, if you want.”

  “I just want to go home. I want to help Clare raise Gareth’s children. I want to help Jaarod find a wife. I want to be with a man who brings me pleasure because he loves me, not because he bit me. Not because he’s using my body against me. I want—

  The door creaked open again, and Maari bit off her list of grievances. Her frame tensed as she turned toward the door, expecting to see Jude. Expecting him to be furious, as Annah had just described him.

  The primly dressed woman standing in the open doorway looked familiar, but Maari couldn’t quite place her.

  “I had to see it for myself, to believe it’s really you,” the woman said, smoothing her hands down a cream-colored pencil skirt, and it was her voice that triggered the memory.

  “Geneva! Gods below, what are you doing here?” Maari scrambled off the bed, dragging the soiled lilac sheet with her, a relieved smile splitting her face from ear to ear as she padded barefoot across the room. “Did Jaarod send you? It’s so great to see you! They haven’t let me have any visitors, and—” She gasped as a sudden possibility sent chills across her bare flesh, and she lowered her voice to a fragile whisper. “Are you here to get me out?”

  “Princess…” Annah said, her hands clasped behind her back, but Maari didn’t even glance at her.

  “Don’t think I don’t have any power here.” Geneva’s voice was unsteady, her brows drawn low. “Just because I didn’t have a say in bringing you here doesn’t mean I won’t have a say in what happens to you now that you’re here.”

  “I don’t…?” Maari clutched the sheet higher over her breasts. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” But as a paralyzing foreboding swept through her, she was starting to understand that Geneva had not come on her remaining brother’s behalf. That she was not here to set Maari free.

  “Stay away from my children, Maari. Stay away from me.”

  “You’re his wife.” Numb, Maari could only shake her head slowly. “Geneva, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be here.”

  “I know. And I know this isn’t fair for you, but it isn’t fair for me either. It isn’t fair for my children. It isn’t safe for them, having you here. I know why the council sent you—I know what they want from you—but I can’t let that happen. Any child you birth is a threat to mine, and I will do whatever’s necessary to protect them.”

  “Geneva, I’m no danger to your girls.”

  “You—” The queen pointed, her jaw clenched, her hand shaking. “—are a threat, whether you want to be or not. You can’t have their children, Maari. There can’t be any chance of a challenge to my son’s throne. You better do whatever has to be done to make sure of that. End it before you feel the child move inside you.” Her free hand clutched her stomach, rumpling the smooth lines of her dress. “Trust me; it’ll be easier that way.”

  “I’m not— Geneva, I’m not going to get pregnant. I swear it.”

  She shook her head, agony evident in the motion. “They won’t allow you contraceptives, so you’re going to have to do it the hard way. End it before they find out. I’m sure your handmaid knows of a way.” She spared Annah a brief glance, though the royal companion didn’t look up from the floor. “Because if you don’t—”

  “I don’t need contraceptives.” Maari took a step forward, silently appealing to her former schoolmate, but the queen stepped back, maintaining the distance between them. “I don’t— The women in my family have a gift, much like the Camden men. Gifted to us from the— From the gods.” Maari found that part hard to accept, but Geneva was a believer. “I can choose not to conceive. And I do choose not to conceive.”

  Geneva blinked at her. “I heard that once, whispered at school, but I thought it was just a stupid legend. A rumor.”

  “It’s as real as the Camden bite.” Maari ran one finger over the healing mark at the base of her neck.

  The queen’s focus followed her hand, and her eyes widened, just for a second. Then her gaze grew cold, and Maari understood her mistake.

  Jude hadn’t bitten his wife. Geneva had no idea what kind of beast her husband really was in bed. She had no concept of the kind of twisted, desperate need that surged between them, every time he came for Maari.

  “This gift better be real,” the queen spat as she clutched for the door handle behind her, without turning. “Because I have friends in this palace. Loyal servants you’ll never see coming. If you birth my husband’s bastard, I will have your baby smothered in its crib while you watch, knowing you could have spared the poor thing the pain of ever taking its first breath.”

  Then she turned and disappeared into the hall, leaving Maari staring after her in shock.

  “Wait! Geneva!” Maari lurched for the door, her sheet trailing out behind her, but the lock wouldn’t turn. “Are you authorized?” she demanded, turning to Annah. “Wil
l the knob turn for you?”

  “Only from the outside. Once I come in, I’m locked in here with you.”

  “No!” Maari turned back to the door and began pounding on it, her sheet forgotten. “Geneva! Come back! Get me out of here!”

  She pounded until her fists bruised, then went numb. She shouted until her voice began to crack. And when it became obvious that Geneva was not coming back—and that the princess could not beat down the door—she turned and gave Annah a heartbroken look. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay.” Annah crossed the room with her arms open and pulled the princess into a hug, smoothing her tangled hair down her back.

  “I should have known he was married. I should have known he had kids. But how could I have known it was Geneva? I haven’t seen her since school, and then the war broke out, and—”

  “It’s okay,” Annah lied again. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “I am not going to be fine!” Maari pulled free from her companion’s embrace. “I’m going to be stuck here, and I can’t kill a man who has kids. A man who’s married to my friend.” She exhaled and threw her arms into the air. “Who am I kidding? I probably couldn’t have killed him anyway, even if he’d bared his throat and handed me a knife. I’m not a soldier. I’m not a killer. I’m not anything!” The scream that clawed its way up from her belly felt as primal as it sounded. It was a venting of rage that did nothing to ease the pressure inside her. The terrible despair that, for the first time, seemed to have no remedy.

  “I didn’t…fucking…know!” In her pain and rage, Maari grabbed the crystal lamp on the nightstand and hurled it at the wall. It shattered into a million glittering shards raining all over the floor, and the crash—the destruction—was so satisfying that just for a second, she felt better.

  So she turned to the vase of hothouse blooms on the small table by the window…

  12

  Jude