by Maisey Yates
She was comforting him, he realized, which he thought was funny considering this was far more outside her comfort zone than it was out of his. Or, at least, than it would have been only a few years ago. But, he allowed it because he liked the feel of her soft skin against his. Because he enjoyed touching her. And he very much enjoyed her touching him.
“We won’t be going back to Olympios tonight,” he said casually.
“We won’t be?”
They rounded a curve on the road, coming up to a set of wrought iron gates that opened when the car drew near. And then a palace came into view. A thousand times more ostentatious than his own, lit from bottom to top so that the whole place looked as though it were dipped in gold.
“No,” he said, “we will be staying here.”
“Wow. So... I forgot to ask you. How do you know Prince Felipe? Did you go to prince school together?”
“We did go to school together. But it wasn’t prince school.”
“Okay. I guess princes just gravitate toward each other?”
“To a degree. But, we do have another friend. And he is not a prince. In fact, Rafe is from a very poor family. He had a benefactor pay for his education. You will meet Prince Felipe and Rafe tonight. And I will introduce you to them as my lover, as well.”
“You’re even going to lie to your friends?”
“Is it a lie?”
Color bled into her cheeks. “We didn’t...that is...we didn’t exactly—”
“You did,” he said simply, not minding so much that she was clearly embarrassed, because he was unsatisfied, and wasn’t that so much worse.
“Perhaps,” she bit out. “But we still didn’t...all the way.”
“That gives us something to look forward to.” The car stopped, and the driver got out and opened their door. He extended his hand. “And it gives you something to think about for the evening. Happy thought to hold on to as we make our entrance, as we are about to do. We are going to be announced, and you cannot look angry at me. Rather, you need to look as though you just came from my bed.”
Her cheeks were thoroughly flushed after that comment, and by the time they walked up the wide, ornately decorated walkway into the doors that led to the ballroom, he was fairly satisfied that she looked as though he had had his way with her in the car.
Sadly, that was not the case, or his body wouldn’t ache as it did.
When they arrived at the top of the stairs, a hush fell over the room.
The herald straightened when they arrived and addressed the crowd. “Presenting Prince Adam Katsaros of Olympios and Belle Chamberlain of California, USA.”
She went stiff beside him as they began to walk down the stairs, holding on to him as they moved deeper into the room. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being stared at like this. Well, neither was he. Or rather, he was, but this was the first time he had been stared at because he was something less than beautiful.
People looked at him with mouths wide-open, their expressions full of pity, full of shock. And he felt...he felt nothing. He felt strangely in control. As he moved into the room with the most beautiful woman in attendance on his arm, with a strange sense of power rolling over his skin.
People were afraid of him. They had never been afraid of him before. There was something about that that made him feel as though he was in even more control than he had been before. Yes, before people had been his sycophants. Had done everything they could to try to get a favor from him, to get his attention. But now? Now people made way for him as he walked through the room, parting as though they were the sea and he was performing a miracle.
They continued moving through the crowd, making their way to the center of the dance floor. Couples swirled around them, also giving them a wide berth as though he might reach out and grab one of them if they came too close.
“Would you care to dance with me?” he asked.
He looked down at Belle, and he saw that there was no fear in her eyes when she looked back at him. No, she wasn’t looking at him like everyone else in the room. She did look terrified. But she was looking at him with a mixture of awe and wonder, and a kind of fascination that he was certain would be his undoing.
“Yes,” she said, extending her hand.
He caught it in his own, pulling her toward him. She braced her hand against his chest, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as he swept her up and into the rhythm of the music that filled the room.
People continued to dance around them, though some stopped and stared openly, clearly fascinated by whatever the story might be between the disfigured Prince and the beautiful American who looked at him like a man, and not a curiosity.
And then, all that faded into the background. Years spent in solitude made it preferable in many ways to shut out all the extravagant sensory input that surrounded him. More people than he had seen in any one place in years, more light, more sound.
All of it seemed to go fuzzy around the edges as he looked down at Belle. She consumed him. His vision, his need, his body. Tonight, they would be staying in the palace in Santa Milagro, and most certainly if he asked his friend to provide them with separate bedrooms he would.
Felipe wouldn’t even question it. Oftentimes, men in their circumstances had to do things for appearances, and a facade of chastity was not outside the realm of those needs.
But he would not. Because tonight, he was intent of taking Belle Chamberlain to bed. He could not keep her; he knew that. It was not feasible. But, he could have her for a little while, and he would. Boyfriends be damned. Decency be damned.
Her hand was so small in his, so fragile, and while the suit, the surroundings, didn’t seem to fit at all, this did. However he had changed over the past three years, however he had come to reform until he no longer fit the position he had been born into, he had been forged into a shape that seemed to fit her just fine.
Her gold dress glittered beneath the lights, but the gown didn’t shine more brightly than she did. He thought back to what his adviser had said earlier in his room. About her being the woman who could potentially break the spell of darkness he had been under.
She was light. So, he could see how the other man might think that. But the darkness inside him was the kind that would consume light, not the kind that could be flooded out so simply. The guilt, the pain that he carried with him, would simply leech all that beauty out of her eventually. He would not subject either of them to such a thing.
He had felt one woman die in his arms already; he would not kill this one by inches over the course of years spent in his presence.
But, that did not mean he couldn’t satisfy his need for her.
When the song ended, he brought them both to a standstill, lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against her knuckles. And when he looked around at the people watching them again, their expressions had changed.
Everything was working the way he had intended it to. Because now they saw a man. A man who was with a woman, who was clearly human, and not simply an object to be pitied or feared.
But, for the first time he was concerned about the headline that would be plastered across papers around the world tomorrow. About what they would say concerning Belle. Initially, he hadn’t cared if she was hurt, because she had involved herself, because she had come to vouch for her father, in his mind he had imagined it some sort of poetic justice that she become an accessory to his revenge, as well.
Now he wondered.
Her mother was the child of somebody famous. She did have a boyfriend, as she continually pointed out. There would be ramifications for her. The words that would be used to describe a woman who would warm the bed of a man simply because he was powerful, disregarding his looks, would not be kind at all.
He felt a twinge of regret at that. But he could afford nothing else. Nothing deeper. All he could do was make the headline true.
He would push all that to the side for now, and focus on the way she was looking at him. Take everything he could ha
ve tonight, because after tonight, when reality hit, when the media had weighed in on the spectacle, it would be different. Things would change.
And she would leave.
He had to let her go after; there was no other choice. Because he certainly couldn’t keep her.
He looked around the room again, saw Felipe standing in the back talking to a redhead who was wearing a very brief, very shiny dress. Then, in an isolated corner, he spotted his friend Rafe.
Of course, Rafe would stick to the outer edges of the room. His vision was severely compromised, and though he claimed he could sometimes see light and shadow, Adam wondered how serious it was truly. He had been lost in his own hell for so long that he had left Rafe alone in his.
Adam preferred to be alone in his hell, so part of him assumed that Rafe wanted the same.
“Come,” Adam said. “I will introduce you to my friends.”
He wasn’t certain why he was doing this. Wasn’t sure what the point was. But, he found himself crossing the broad expanse of the ballroom, making his way toward Rafe.
“Belle,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back, a sign of possessiveness, even if it was one his friend could not observe. “This is Rafael Marelli, but the two friends he has call him Rafe.”
Rafe angled his head and looked in Belle’s direction, but it was clear that his dark eyes were unseeing. “And the two friends Adam has hardly call him at all,” Rafe returned. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Belle,” she said, extending her hand. “Belle Chamberlain.”
Again, seemingly on instinct, Rafe reacted appropriately, lifting his hand slowly until his palm came into contact with hers; then he lowered his head and kissed her knuckles, just as Adam had earlier. Adam felt a surge of rage, possessiveness, overtake him.
“There is no need for that,” Rafe said, releasing his hold on her hand, as though he sensed Adam’s irritation. “I’m not going to try and steal her from you, Adam. Though, I can see how you would be concerned. Since you have found a woman willing to tame the rather savage beast, she might be a good bet for me, as well.”
“Adam.” The voice of Prince Felipe came from behind them. Adam turned briefly, and so did Belle. Rafe stayed as he was. “You actually came.” His friend assessed him slowly. They hadn’t seen each other in years. Not since the scars had healed over. When he had been incapacitated, Felipe had come and seen him, but in the years since he had seemed dedicated to respecting Adam’s desire for solitude.
“I said that I would,” Adam said, “and I don’t pretend I’m going to do something and then sidestep. I tell you how I feel up front—you know me well enough to know that.”
“And who is this?” Felipe asked, his sharp eyes turning to Belle.
“Belle,” she said, receiving a kiss on the hand from Felipe, as well.
“Adam doesn’t like that,” Rafe said, his voice dry.
“You’re far too perceptive, Rafe,” Felipe said. “It’s one of the most annoying things about you. You should miss more than you do, God knows.”
“Maybe my other senses are heightened.”
“You were always like this,” Felipe said, waving a hand.
“Is this all you intended it to be?” Adam asked, directing the question at Felipe.
“The party? Yes. Though, my father is unable to attend due to his ill health.”
“Somehow, I imagine the citizens of your country are not overly saddened by that,” Rafe said.
“Of course not,” Felipe said, “but we cannot say that. I am poised to take the throne soon, of course. And I am assuming that the woman on your arm is discreet, Adam, as you are the most discreet man I know.”
Belle shifted beside him. “I’m not going to repeat anything I hear tonight,” she said, nodding. And Adam believed it. Even though she was the daughter of a paparazzo, he believed it.
He marveled at that for a moment. That he could find that kind of trust in her. That he had found it so effortlessly. It was simply there, and he felt as though he couldn’t talk himself out of it even if he wanted to.
“Good,” Felipe said. “I know Rafe prefers to be mysterious. He would hate for that aura of disinterest to be compromised in any way.”
“There is no compromising what is real,” Rafe said.
“I have to circulate,” Felipe said.
“Does that mean you’re going to try and talk a woman into your bed?” Rafe asked.
Adam was particularly amused by this because Rafe hadn’t even been able to see Felipe talking to the redheaded woman earlier. But, regardless, he knew their friend.
“Of course not,” Felipe said. “I don’t have to try. I will succeed.” He turned to go, then paused, regarding Adam closely. “It’s not that bad.”
Then he walked away. It took Adam a moment to realize he probably meant Adam’s face.
Then he looked back at Rafe. Who of course had shown absolutely no shock at the change in Adam’s appearance. Rafe had been blinded before the accident.
He remembered what Belle had said, that it was lucky Adam had not lost his sight. Rafe had lost his. Though, he had retained his looks. However, Adam had the feeling that meant next to nothing to his friend, who had emerged from whatever had happened to him changed. And not simply because of the loss of his sight, Adam was certain. There was something else to it. Something deeper.
“It’s good you’re here, Adam,” Rafe said. “If you’ve changed, I wouldn’t know.”
His friend’s words were so in line with what he had been thinking that he had to laugh. “Of course not. Though, I have been informed that it is not my scars that make me a beast.”
“That is true,” Belle said, her tone muted.
And he didn’t know why, but it struck him uncomfortably, that she seemed to think he was a beast still, when he had hoped that she saw him as a man.
“We will let you return to your brooding,” Adam said. “Felipe would say that women like that.”
“If they do,” Rafe said, lifting his drink to his lips, “I wouldn’t know about that either.”
Adam took Belle’s arm and led her back toward the dance floor, pulling her into his hold. “Are you up for another dance?”
She ignored the question, but moved easily into step with him. “Rafe is blind?” she asked.
He realized that it might not be apparent if you didn’t know. Though, it was obvious to Adam, who had known him before, and who had witnessed the change in his demeanor, and mannerisms. “Yes,” Adam responded. “Not from birth. Five or six years ago. Something happened and he sustained a head injury, though he is reluctant to give the details. You think I am a private man, but you will find Rafe bests me.”
“And Felipe is the easygoing one?”
Adam chuckled at that. “Felipe is nothing but a carefully constructed facade. I would say, without hesitation, that he is perhaps the most private of all of us, and does the very best at hiding it. Which I think is what ensures he stays that way.”
“Why did you cut yourself off from your friends? They seem like such good friends,” Belle said.
“Sometimes you want to stay wounded,” he returned, realizing how true it was the moment the words left his mouth. “You don’t want anyone to fix you. I wanted to live in my pain forever. My wife was dead, my son...sometimes all of it hits me so hard it still takes my breath away. And in those moments I don’t want anyone there. I don’t want anyone to tell me it will be okay. Because how can it be? I almost wanted to feel bleak and hopeless forever because then the enormity of their loss could always be felt. Sometimes it feels good to dwell on the dark things.”
She was quiet at that. “I understand.” The words were simply offered, but they did something to him. Just as everything about her seemed to do.
“You agree then,” he said, not quite sure why he was pushing the topic. “That I’m a beast inside as well as out?”
“Inside, at least,” she said. “You must know that I think...that I am attracted to you.�
�� Her cheeks turned pink. “I think I have demonstrated over and over again that I find you somewhat irresistible.”
“In spite of all of this?” he asked, indicating his face.
“Perhaps because of it. I can’t separate the scars from the man I first met. Yes, I have now seen pictures of you without them, but they aren’t you. Not to me.”
He pondered that for a moment. “But inside...”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She was silent for a moment after that. “There is something about it that I find compelling. I associate passion with a lack of control, and I’ve always been... I’ve always hated it. I lived with my mother until I was four. I have small snatches of memory of what it was like to live in her house. I didn’t like it. It was so chaotic. Everything was so over the top. But I was also devastated when I had to leave. Because it was the only life I knew. Because she was my mother and she gave me away. And I missed her. I cried for her every night. For the longest time. But, when I stopped crying I got angry. And it’s like you said. You want to hold on to those things, to those dark feelings, so that you can make sure you’re changed by them. So that you can understand why something happened, so that you can understand those terrible, dark places you were forced into.” She looked up at him. “For me, that meant trying to find a way to learn from her lessons, so that I wouldn’t do anything like what she did to me to anyone else.”
She lifted her hand, allowing her thumb to trace that particularly heavy ridge of scar tissue by his mouth. “You’re forcing me to look at passion differently,” she continued. “It is that beast inside of you, that wild thing that lets you take whatever you want, that is made entirely of need and not of lies or protection...that’s what calls to me. It’s what I wish I could find inside of myself.”
He reached up, grabbing her wrist, drawing it to his lips and pressing his mouth to the tender skin there. Neither of his friends had kissed that skin. It was much more intimate. Much more sensitive. And it was all his. She was his. “I could help you find it,” he said, his voice rough, his body hardening at the thought.
