Bearly Royal_Alaric

by Ally Summers

  “You’re not staying?” he whispered.

  “What’s the point?”

  I could fuck any beautiful girl I wanted. I didn’t need a damn cat and mouse game to give me a hard-on. Fuck this.

  I pushed to stand when seven-seven-seven walked on stage.

  My eyes followed the spotlight by complete fucking accident. I had every intention of leaving. Of taking my security detail, grabbing the last of the bottle of bourbon from behind the bar, and sleeping alone tonight.

  But then she walked on stage.

  Fuck.

  No one had looked so out of place up there before.

  Wide frightened eyes. Pink lips that quivered slightly. She pressed her palms into her sides. It wasn’t what the other girls did. No woman had ever stood on the stage like she’d rather jump off and run to the closest exit.

  The women who came here wanted to be here. They wanted this room and everything it stood for. Titles. Money. Power. Opportunists might have been a name for them. Fucking gold diggers was more accurate.

  They didn’t get more than one night. It was a mutual agreement protected by a legal document. No phones or photography were allowed. The Titan had shut down any potential problems long ago. Tallies were vetted. And membership was exclusive. The women who took their one shot had an angle. They had convinced themselves they were worthy of a prince or a Hollywood star. They thought this was their one night to convince him too. Fools.

  But seven-seven-seven wasn’t that kind of woman.

  Andre cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

  I slid into my seat and picked up the baton with my crest on it. One look at her kick-started something primal under my skin. I couldn’t explain it, but it drove me to raise my baton. Fight for what I wanted. Protect what should be mine. Every man here was identified by his family crest. That’s how dated Galona was. Crests. Family trees that could be traced for centuries. Old money. Ancient money. And in my case—a long line of shifters who had ruled and protected the country, carrying our secret to the grave.

  “You’re staying?” Bax whispered.

  “Shut up.”

  The bidding started at twenty-thousand.

  I waited for the fifth bid before I raised the crest in the air. “One hundred thousand,” I shouted.

  “Accepted tender is one hundred thousand,” Andre stated. “Any other propositions?”

  It was dark, but I stared at my competition. I dared any other man here to make another offer.

  “One-fifty.”

  I turned to see the House of LeRoy’s crest illuminated. Fuck. Russel LeRoy.

  “You might have a problem.” Bax leaned over.

  “He’ll let it go. He’s just trying to raise the tender. He likes to make things interesting. Gives the bastard something to do.”

  “One seventy-five.” My baton flickered in my hand.

  Russel jumped in after me. “One ninety-five.”

  Andre’s eyebrows arched. “The House of LeRoy has submitted a tender for one ninety-five.”

  I gritted my teeth together. “Take her. She’s yours,” Bax baited me. “Don’t let Russel win.”

  “Two hundred.” My hand shot in the air again.

  From here I wasn’t sure if her eyes were blue or green. They were light and airy. She looked less afraid, and more bewildered about what was happening. The challenge for her was unmasked in front of everyone.

  “Two twenty,” LeRoy barked.

  “Mother fucker,” I groaned. How high was he going to let this go? There was a point where I could annihilate him. Rub his face in my wealth. Make him regret his decision to steal my first tender in months.

  “Come on, Alaric. You aren’t afraid of a little proposition war, are you?” he taunted. I heard the men at his table chuckle.

  “Never am.” I grinned in the dark. I could end this now. I would.

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  The room was shocked into silence.

  I waited for Russel to say something, but he didn’t have the balls to challenge me again.

  “The tender is complete for seven-seven-seven and has been awarded to the House of Marquis.”

  I rose from the table, straightening my jacket. “Congrats.” Baxter shook my hand.

  “Thank you. I think I’ll collect my tally and get out of here.” I slammed my empty glass on the table. “Gentlemen, enjoy your evening. Good luck with your prospects.” I nodded to the nearby tables. I stopped as I passed by Russel.

  I leaned toward his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me like that again.”

  “In here, you’re like everyone else,” he snapped.

  I patted him as I began to stroll away. “You’re mistaken, LeRoy. I’m not like anyone else.”

  4

  Eden

  Bonnie squealed when I walked backstage in a trance.

  “Who was it? Was it fun?” She shook me. My head rattled. “I just heard the numbers going up and up and up. They were fighting over you.”

  “I have no idea. It was a blur. There were two houses at the end. I couldn’t figure out the accents.” I reached for my forehead. “I-I really don’t know what happened.”

  The stage manager appeared beside us. “Cherie, Cherie, you must come. Come, with me. Quickly.”

  I looked at Bonnie. I wasn’t leaving without knowing exactly where I was going. I wanted to stay for her moment on stage as well.

  “No. I need details.” I stuck my chin forward.

  “Cherie, your sponsor. Come now,” he urged.

  “Just tell us who it is,” Bonnie pleaded. “I’m dying to know. I thought this was going in numerical order, but apparently, that’s not Galonian. I have no idea when I’m going out there. I’m dying back here. What if I’m left with crumbs?” All the men were billionaires. She had nothing to worry about.

  He sighed. “Cher, he is waiting. You must be quickly.”

  I didn’t correct his English. “Who is he?”

  “Yeah, who is it? The director? Please tell me it’s an actor. I will die if you end up with Chris Fox tonight. Although, totally ironic that you’d land an American when we’re in Europe, but he’s still super sexy and—”

  “The tenders are sealed,” he interrupted Bonnie’s chatter.

  “I’m not moving unless you tell me who is waiting for me.”

  “Americans,” he grumbled.

  I frowned. I hated when that happened. I wasn’t being American. I was being safe and cautious. Following the girl code. Bonnie should know who I was with and I should know where she was. It was practical and logical. American, my ass.

  He pushed the microphone from his lips and motioned for me to lean in.

  “Yes?” My stomach lurched.

  “His Royal Highness,” he whispered, cupping my ear with his hand.

  I straightened my back. “Which one?” The royal family was huge. There were distant cousins and uncles. The family tree was a twisted spider web. He could be talking about a count or a duke.

  “His Royal Highness,” he restated.

  “Are you talking about the king?” Bonnie blurted out.

  “Shh.” He pinched her elbow. “Tenders are sealed. Don’t speak again.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. It did seem ridiculous once we were vetted and inside the club that secrets had to be kept from each other.

  “The king? The king was in the audience? And he bid on me?” I whispered quickly.

  Two girls walked past us when the MC called another set of numbers. I didn’t notice if they heard our discussion.

  “He has placed a formal tender which has been accepted and recorded. There are no bids,” he scolded. “Now we must go.”

  I bit my lip. I was ill-prepared for this entire night, but facing the king had never occurred to me. That wasn’t supposed to be an option, was it? That was all Bonnie’s fantasy. That we’d end up meeting a couple of the royal princes or maybe a couple of dukes. Really, she would have been happy with a B-list actor. The process t
hrilled her. The secrecy. The exclusivity of being a part of a fabled tradition. She was caught up in fairy tales and stories I hadn’t believed in until I was smack in the middle of one.

  I was stuck in a chapter I couldn’t crawl out of.

  Bonnie hugged me. “Have fun. Be good.” She giggled. “I can’t believe you. And you didn’t even want to do this. Of all the members, you got him.”

  “But I didn’t. I don’t,” I whispered.

  “Come now. You must.”

  I waved at Bonnie, trying to steady my erratic pulse.

  I was escorted through a dark passage. Luc’s headset crackled and sputtered the farther we walked.

  “Careful, cher.” He guided me to a door. I may have tripped without his help.

  My heart beat wildly. I felt frantic. Nervous.

  “Do not forget your contract.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t remember what was in it. Something about no pictures. No social media posts. I didn’t know the rest. My phone was at the apartment. I wasn’t allowed to bring it to the club.

  “But what if—” I looked down to ask a question, but the funny man was gone. The hallway was black. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. My head was swimming. I tried to concentrate on breathing slowly. I was in too deep to back out now. I had to get it together.

  I tried to retrace the chain of events that brought me here. One thing was certain. I never expected here to be a dark hallway, alone, waiting to be escorted to a contractually bound evening with His Royal freaking Highness. For the first time tonight, the shiver that ran up my spine might be excitement rather than panic.

  My thoughts were interrupted when a green light flashed on the wall. Did that mean I was supposed to go through the door? I waited until finally it seemed ludicrous to stand in the hall any longer.

  I took one last deep breath and twisted the knob in my palm. With a gentle push, the door swung open.

  I expected a room. Maybe something with red velvety drapes and blue elephant paintings like in the Moulin Rouge. But there was nothing exotic or seductive about what was on the other side. The door was an exit to the back of the parking lot. I was met with dim street lights.

  A long black car was parked a few feet in front of me. A driver stood, holding the rear door.

  “Mademoiselle,” he greeted me quietly.

  I stepped forward.

  “This way.”

  I eyed him. There was nothing distinguishable about his face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A round chin. He wore a cap. Was I doing this? Getting into a car behind The Titan?

  “His Majesty waits,” he urged me.

  “Yes, I know.” I stopped just shy of the door and glanced inside.

  From where I stood I could see his arm. I followed the lines of a crisp white shirt to the cuff at his wrist. I couldn’t make out the letters monogrammed on his cufflinks. His watch caught the small bit of light coming off the building. He had large hands. I also noticed his legs were long and muscular in a pair of fitted dark pants.

  He strummed his fingers. He was waiting.

  “Mademoiselle,” the driver urged.

  “Right. Yes.”

  I ducked, climbing into the backseat. The door closed behind me. And I came face to face with His Royal Highness.

  5

  Alaric

  I had waited longer than I should have. I checked my watch again. I had paid out the highest tender of my life. I wasn’t leaving here without her. I reminded myself she wasn’t a regular tally. There had never been another woman like her at The Titan before. I wouldn’t have paid half a million otherwise. Was it the king or the bear within who won? I didn’t know or care. Tonight, she belonged to me.

  Emmanuel closed the car door as she slid into the leather seat next to me. Finally.

  “Good evening.”

  “Hi.” Her voice was soft, filling the silent recesses of the backseat.

  Fuck. Her lips were even more edible up close. Her cheeks were bright. I knew she wasn’t drunk. It was against the rules. She was either nervous or excited. I considered there was nothing wrong with a combination.

  The car lurched forward.

  “Where are we going?” she eked. She watched the club fade out of view as Emmanuel drove toward the coastal highway.

  “Does our night extend by the minutes you kept me waiting?”

  “Excuse me?” I watched the curve of her neck as she swallowed.

  “You’re American?” I questioned. Most of them were. They kept the pipeline running.

  “Is that a problem?”

  The car careened as we exited, tipping her off balance. She leaned into me, her hair brushing against my shoulder as she pushed away to right her body.

  “A defensive American.” I rubbed my chin with my thumb. “Tell me your name.”

  “Seven-seven-seven,” she whispered. She didn’t make eye contact. “But Sapphire is the other one they gave me.”

  “Your real name,” I corrected her.

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to do that.”

  I reached for a bottle of water in the bar and grabbed a second one for her. I twisted the lid from the top and put it in her hands.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked blankly.

  She nodded. “I was told you’re one of the royals.” She took a sip.

  “One of the royals?” I scoffed. “I must be losing my reputation around here.” I turned to face her squarely. “I’m the royal.”

  She fidgeted with the bottle cap. “I know. I was just trying not to make a big deal about it. Maybe I’m not supposed to acknowledge you’re the king of Galona. I-I’m not sure.”

  “At least you know my title. You know I have certain exemptions. One of those specifically deals with the name clause. What’s your name?”

  “Eden. Eden Jacobs.”

  I chuckled. “It doesn’t get any more American than that.”

  Her long lashes lowered a second time. The gesture did something to me. I raised her chin until she lifted her eyes to mine. Her gaze cut right through me. I knew now why they called her Sapphire.

  “Tell me. Are you scared of me Eden Jacobs?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “And why not?” My hand circled over the creaminess of her skin, my fingers pressing into the softness of the back of her neck.

  Her chest rose, sending her breasts forward. God, they were unbelievable. Ripe and soft. My eyes trailed upward again, making heated eye contact.

  We drove farther up the hillside. The lights of Freychon blanketed the ground below us.

  The shield between our seat and Emmanuel gave me absolute privacy. My mouth grew hungry for her. Her eyes darted back and forth.

  “Because you’re the king,” she whispered. “You’re not scary.”

  I pressed my lips in a straight line. “And tonight? Why did you sign up for something like this? The Titan?”

  I ran my fingertips to the top of her spine, making my own road map to her shoulder. The back of my fingers slid along her arm.

  “My friend thought it was an urban legend,” she explained. “And when we were approached it seemed like something we couldn’t turn down.”

  “And do you still feel that way?” I asked. “Like you can’t turn it down?”

  “I signed the contract.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” My voice was cool and dark. “Do you want to be here, Eden Jacobs?”

  We turned into the back of the compound. The palace gates folded open.

  I looked at her more patiently than I ever had. As if I was a lion waiting for the gazelle to walk gingerly into the clearing. Was this girl willing to walk into the moonlight and expose herself to my hunger?

  “It’s one night. Your night. To be with the king. It won’t happen again. The Titan does not seek return tallies. So you must decide here and now what you want.” I saw her hesitation. “Emmanuel will drive you home. Or you can walk inside the palace with me.” I pointed to the top floor where a row of light
s illuminated a set of windows. “See that block of rooms?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes followed my index finger.

  “Those are the king’s rooms. My rooms.”

  “There are so many. The whole floor is yours?”

  “Yes, but that one with the view of the ocean—that one, love is where I’ll take off all your clothes.” I pressed my finger along the hollow of her throat.

  Her pulse beat rapidly.

  “I’ll take you to my bed,” I promised.

  I heard her inhale quickly.

  Damn it. I was hard. My cock ached for her here and now. Had I ever wanted a woman so badly? Ever wanted to claim every inch of someone? Make her mine in only the way my bear could? That was insane. I wasn’t that kind of bear. I was a king. I wasn’t looking for a mate.

  The car slowed as we approached the tunnel to the private entrance.

  My patience had run out.

  “What is your decision? Are you going home, or do you want one night with the king?”

  6

  Eden

  I had never known the silence inside a car could be so deafening. My ears rang. My heart pounded irregularly. I could practically hear the blood rush between my ears.

  This morning I was working on my dissertation. I used notecards to sort the broader topics. They were scattered on the floor. I wore pajama pants and a tank top. My hair was twirled in a bun with a pencil crammed in the middle to hold the heaviest pieces in place.

  Bonnie walked in, carrying a carton of lo mein noodles. “You have destroyed our living room.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I’ll clean it up after I get the rest of this section nailed down.”

  “Let’s go get coffee,” she suggested.

  “I can’t. I don’t have time. Look at this disaster.” I covered my eyes with my palms.

  She tugged on my arm. “The notecards will be here when we get back. You need some fresh air. And preferably a change of clothes that isn’t pajamas or yoga pants.” She looked over my wardrobe disapprovingly.

  “Again. I don’t have time for real clothes. I’m in the middle of the most critical paper of my life.”