Damaged Royals

by Hazel Parker

  “I'm sorry for what happened at the party.”

  A flicker of surprise entered her eyes. When she still didn't speak, I continued.

  "What I said and did was uncalled for, and you had every right to slap me. Probably even do more, and the fact that you didn't resort to that only shows you were the better person in that situation—”

  “Why did you do it?”

  The question had me pausing, then staring. There wasn't any accusation in her tone, though it was guarded. I took a deep breath, trying to search for an honest answer.

  “I...I couldn't stand the thought of that baron with you.”

  It didn't reveal much, and it revealed everything. The contrast of that had her looking at me for a long time, and her gaze softened for a second. Then her expression turned firmer, and I prepared myself for the rejection. I deserved it, I guess.

  Imagine my surprise when it turned out differently.

  “I forgive you. On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Help me find the culprit.”

  It was the last thing I expected. I looked at Liz, trying to figure out what her underlying purpose was. But all I saw was an honesty that I hadn't really given her, and I realized she wasn't kidding. So I nodded. Then I held out my hand.

  “Would you like to shake on it?” I asked.

  She didn't hesitate, taking my hand and shaking it thoroughly. The warmth of her palm spread through my skin, but I ignored it and focused on the professional side of this arrangement. There was no time to lose focus, not now.

  “It's a deal,” she said.

  * * *

  I was used to being around women I was attracted to and not doing anything about it. Beautiful women were everywhere, after all, and my position in the royal family and the repercussions of thinking with my dick just didn’t warrant the short moment involving pleasure of the flesh. Maybe I had my share of affairs, like the one with Delilah, but none of them were too scandalous. Attraction was attraction, and it just couldn’t compare to the peace of having a good reputation.

  Being close to Liz, however, set a precedent that made the attraction just much more intense and close to torture than anything else had ever been.

  Sweet torture, that was.

  “I’ve made a list of what I’ve gathered so far, and I just keep adding to it daily. Do you want to see it?”

  Her arm was warm against mine, and I forced myself to focus on the notebook she handed to me. We were sitting on the couch in my bedroom, the bedside table pulled in front of us to house the breakfast Liz brought, along with the information she gathered. I leafed through her notes, taking in everything and realizing that her organization knew no bounds, and it was impressive.

  We’d been at it for four days now—four days of that pure torture, along with the frustration of not being able to figure out who was the actual impostor. Liz befriended everyone, shared whatever secret she could come up with and loudly agonized over the torture of being here with the prince she didn’t like and leaving behind the love of her life at home.

  Unfortunately, none of the princesses still opened up.

  It had us wondering if we should be changing tactics, which was why we were here now and trying to regroup. Liz was bouncing on her seat from some restless energy, and I stifled the urge to snap at her to stay still. I was pretty on edge, too, with the coronation coming closer and thoughts of her clouding my mind.

  Particularly every night, when I had no control over my dreams, and they were filled with her.

  In different positions. Moaning my name.

  I kept reading. She kept scribbling, and we worked in silence.

  One certain piece of information jumped at me, and it had an alarm ringing in my head.

  “Liz.”

  She looked up. “Hmm?”

  “What you’ve written here…”

  “Is my handwriting bad?”

  “No. This one.” I pointed at a line. “Princess Ana mentioned a monarchy in Krylle?”

  She frowned at the words. “Oh, I must have written that wrong.”

  The alarm eased a bit. “Yes?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t Ana who said that. It was Julianne.”

  The alarm was back. “Princess Julianne?”

  “Yes.” She sighed in exasperation. “I swear it took me too much time to get that girl talking, and when she did talk, she just ended up bragging about her vacation in Krylle, and how the monarchy there was just the best there was and nothing could compare. She mentioned something about the prince courting her there, too, so if this didn’t work out…Lucas?” Her words trailed off uncertainly, and I realized my face must not have hidden my reaction well.

  “There’s no monarchy in Krylle.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “There’s no royal family in Krylle,” I said. “They were massacred years ago.”

  Realization flew to Liz’s eyes at what I was implying.

  And that was how the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for us to confront Princess Julianne—or rather, Julianne, who really was an impostor but also someone who closely resembled the real princess.

  She was a bastard daughter who’d been thrown in the garbage and raised by vengeful household staff.

  We finally contacted the royal family with the information we had, to which they apologized for not having suspected it sooner. Then an alarm was set out for their actual missing princess who was supposed to be here, and the queen offered her help by lending some of our men for the search. Julianne was quietly taken away from Osmerol to be dealt with, with the other princesses informed that she had a family emergency and couldn’t attend any further affairs with them.

  Liz was beside herself. “What if they kill her? What if they torture her?”

  “The queen of Osmerol would have done the same,” I said.

  “That doesn’t make it right! She’s been warped to think that way, and it’s not fully her fault. If anything, the real culprits should also be apprehended.”

  She had a point in that, and it wasn’t long before I was voicing it out to Laverna, who agreed and saw to the matter. Fair was fair, after all, and the queen was all about being fair…sometimes.

  I explained to Liz what we could do at this point and how that was the limit of our resources without having to push another country and end up creating hostility. She understood, but there was no denying the sad look on her face as she realized the consequences of her investigation.

  She was too soft for this, I realized, and I should have been more careful. I wanted to beat myself up for it but ended up saying the only thing I could.

  “I’m sorry.”

  We were standing just outside her room, and she looked like she was ready to sleep soon in her sweatpants and loose shirt. She looked up at my words, then shook her head.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “Please.”

  “Okay.”

  “We…we did all we could.”

  “Then don’t worry.”

  “I’ll always worry,” she shot back. “Do you always have to face difficult decisions like this?”

  “Every single day,” I admitted.

  And that was the truth.

  Even looking at her now and trying not to touch her was a difficult decision in itself, and the urge was so strong that it almost overpowered common sense. But I reined it in, taking hold of it until it formed into a small ball of energy that I could safely tuck away.

  “Thank you for helping me, Lucas,” she said softly, brown eyes shining with a sincerity that threatened to drive me insane.

  “You’re welcome,” I responded gruffly. “Goodnight.”

  Before she could say anything more, or before I could do anything more, I walked out of there and didn’t wait for her to step in, knowing no good was going to come if I stayed any longer. Desire boiled in my blood, heavy and potent. Now that I was far away, I missed the sc
ent that I’d gotten so used to, the scent that intoxicated me and lured me all at once—a hint of honey, a hint of lemons, a hint of woman.

  All Liz.

  There was no denying it now. I wanted her—probably more than my next breath, if that was even possible. I wanted to kiss her and touch her and do things to her, things that involved our bodies intertwined and me driving inside her until she begged for me. I wanted my cock in her tight core, wanted to pound into her until we both forgot rank, position and everything else.

  Until all that existed was the pleasure between us, and her moaning my name.

  Halfway through the night, rain fell so hard it wiped away any other sound as thunder followed. It was a rainstorm, perfect for my already sordid mood and for the bottle of alcohol that called to me.

  I walked to the west wing, thinking I might as well get it over with before the hunger of my emotions took over—hunger for Liz and hunger for something even worse.

  But just before I got there, something horrible happened.

  My knees gave out, and I stumbled on the floor, tearing my jeans and skinning my knee as I did so. I blinked my eyes repeatedly, thinking I was probably just too drunk to walk straight.

  But my vision cleared, and I realized this wasn’t drunkenness after all.

  I watched as my hands slowly shifted into claws—long, black claws that dug into the floor and scraped through the rug. I watched as I coughed blood, staining the rug and spreading droplets on my now blackened skin. The hunger came fast and bright, dictating me to stand up from my position and eat.

  Dictating me to destroy the first piece of flesh I saw.

  Before I could, hands gripped my waist. Then arms of steel banded around it, hauling me as a soft curse was uttered near my ear.

  “Hold on, Lucas. Hold on. Don’t you dare transform here.”

  I growled, but the sound was cut off short when Benjamin hauled me higher and gripped tight, almost cutting off my breath. I choked and gasped, but he held on, ignoring my thrashing as he half-dragged me to the west wing and into the room we always went to. I saw the flash of greenery and heard his voice, repeating over and over for me to hang tight because he wasn’t going to let go.

  Then his temper snapped. “Damn it, Lucas! Get it together! Run with me! Run. With. Me. Let’s go. Go to the green.”

  My semblance of a mind listened and my body followed through and I ran with him. I stopped struggling and went to the green, bursting through it and keeping an eye out as Benjamin followed until the entrance, staring at me with mournful, determined gray eyes.

  “I’ll find a bride. I’ll find one soon, and this will be all over.”

  Those were the last words I heard before my mind shut down.

  And the beast took over.

  Chapter 18

  LUCAS

  Liz invaded my dreams.

  As if it wasn’t enough that she was invading my waking thoughts, she just slipped herself into my sleeping hours, too—inserted herself and took over, until all I could see were golden brown eyes and all I could hear was the sound of her voice calling my name. It was pure, sweet torture, and I often woke up with the hardest morning wood there was to date.

  I also ended up avoiding her like a plague whenever I could.

  Benjamin hovered over me like some kind of mother the following day, and it would have been sweet if it wasn’t annoying. The incident hopefully won’t happen again, and I wanted to treat it as a warning call more than anything more alarming.

  But that didn’t stop the worry from coming.

  To temper it down, I did what I could with what I had—ordered more bottles of alcohol to last me a year, then drank it at night until I was too inebriated to think. Benjamin probably did the same shit he did to get rid of his own beast, and we were both left to our own devices in between him trying to choose a princess and me trying to keep things in order until then. I could already tell who he was soft for among the eleven left but I didn’t want to assume yet until he announced it.

  He also obviously wasn’t in love with any of them yet. But that was an arranged marriage for you.

  Despite the intensity of my drinking now, the puzzling thing was how I still found myself in bed every morning—tucked in, with my shoes off my feet and most of my upper clothes gone. At first, I thought it was just a stroke of luck…that was, until the fifth time it happened and I just knew I didn’t have it in me to be this organized.

  As if to prove that point, I got to wake up earlier than usual on the sixth day and found none other than Liz hovering over me.

  My eyes widened, and so did hers. She froze in place, a damp towel in hand and a basin on the bedside table. The blankets already surrounded me, a warm comfort.

  She immediately retreated.

  “Hey,” she greeted, trying to appear calm. I could detect the nerves in her voice, though. “I didn’t expect you to wake up early.”

  I sat up in bed, the blanket falling to my lap. I watched her wring the towel dry, then try to bring the basin to the bathroom. But my hand was already on her wrist before she could move, and she paused and turned to look at me.

  “You’ve been cleaning up after me for six days?”

  Liz bit her lip. Then she nodded her head tentatively, and I could feel the first surge of irritation come through. The fact that I didn’t even have a hangover spoke miracles, but the fact that she was doing everything she could to make me comfortable and prevent it made that miracle have a bitter aftertaste.

  “Yes,” she finally responded.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I said, my tone gruffer than I intended. “You shouldn’t even be in this room.”

  Her back went straight at that. “Then you shouldn’t be wandering the halls too drunk to think, only for me to find you. You’ve left me no choice.”

  “I—”

  “And don’t say you’re sorry,” she interrupted. “Because it’s getting tiring.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Your scars…”

  So she saw the scars on my back. I looked away. There was no explaining away something like that without revealing my nature, but I had to try. “It’s nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  We looked hard at each other, and I still didn’t let go of her hand. But I loosened my grip, encircling her wrist in a soothing motion that had her expression going soft.

  “I couldn’t just leave you alone, Lucas.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong.”

  “Try again. Why?”

  “Because the other girls might see you.”

  “Try again.”

  “Because it’s—”

  “Try again—”

  “Because I care about you! Happy now?” She exploded, blurting the words out before a stricken expression crossed her face. Shock filled me at the confession, followed by something that burst out of me and took hold of any semblance of control I may have had. She saw it, and her eyes flared in response. She made a move to back away, but my hand on her wrist tightened again, though not to the point of pain.

  “Maybe,” I muttered.

  Then I was pulling her into bed and damning all consequences.

  The basin fell on the rug with a soft thud, but neither of us cared as I covered her mouth with mine and took what was there. She was soft and warm, smelling so good that I was drunk for a different reason this time.

  She didn’t fight it. Instead, Liz kissed me back with an intensity that set my body and soul on fire, and it would have made me stagger if I wasn’t in bed already. I pulled her closer until she was settled nicely on my lap, straddling me over the blankets and placing her hands on my chest for balance.

  “Tell me if you don’t want this,” I said hoarsely, my tongue sliding in and seeking hers out. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

  In response, Liz’s body surged forward and pressed against mine, and the way her kisses turned hungry left no doubt to what her exact opinion was on the matter.


  I groaned as something hot seared in my stomach. Then I groaned some more as her tongue finally met mine, tangling in a hot collision. I kissed her as thoroughly as I could, exploring every inch and getting drunk from the wonderful taste.

  My hands were just there at first, idle, but it wasn’t long before they started moving, too, wanting to touch skin I’d been craving to touch for so long now.

  Her skin was as soft as I imagined, especially when I slid my hand under her shirt. It was her sleeping shirt, which meant she came here right when she woke up just to take care of me.

  And she had no bra underneath.

  The feel of her breast against my palm was a surreal experience. She was soft yet firm, a perfect globe that fit in my hand and had me wanting to squeeze it. I did just that and had the pleasure of feeling her moan vibrate in my mouth, then her nipple pebble. Unable to resist it any longer, I thumbed the pebbled tip, teasing it and making it even stiffer. She enjoyed that, writhing lightly against me as more sounds came out of her throat.

  When just touching no longer seemed enough, I broke our kiss and slid my mouth down her throat, taking my time to suck and lick the way she liked it. Then I slowly slid her shirt up and over her head, finally getting a glimpse of what I’d been missing.

  Her nipples were pink and perfect, goosebumps rising all over them and making my mouth water. The contrast of my tanned thumb against her pale skin was extremely sexy, and I watched as I pinched and rubbed her in fast, then slow movements. Then I removed my thumb from one and lowered my head, and I glimpsed her eyes widening before I closed my lips over the pink.

  Warm, just like her. Hard. A keening cry came out of Liz as her hands went to my hair to fist, and I felt her body vibrate in pleasure. I teased her as much as I could, licking thoroughly before I sucked intensely. Not wanting to leave a breast out, I did the same to the other one, enjoying the way she lost control of her inhibitions.

  She kept writhing. Then she ground her hips against me, a restless movement that she probably thought would alleviate it—except it only ground her clothed core against my cock, and what followed was pleasure so intense that it almost jarred me.

  I rolled and took her with me until she was flat on the bed. Then I crushed her mouth with mine again, kissing her harder as my hand trailed lower. We were both lost in our urgency, and I felt her hand against my erection, pressing against my sweatpants and making me lose my breath. She rubbed tentatively, and I took her wrist and guided her hand in until those delicate but strong fingers wrapped around my shaft.