“We’ve managed to keep knowledge of my illness contained to our trusted inner circle, but I don’t know for how much longer we’ll be able to. Once it leaks, we’re vulnerable. We must see you stepping up. When we return to Maine, you will. No arguments, brother. The time has come.”
Brayden sat in the large armchair opposite the desk.
“It’ll be fine. It could be years, decades, before you cannot lead. If it happens, I’ll learn the ropes. Regan can assist if...you know, you die suddenly.”
Regan was the king’s advisor, and he had been their father’s advisor when he’d been king.
“No, Brayden, you won’t. You do not know what I do each day. Father groomed me my whole life, for hundreds of years. There is a lot you need to learn.”
He groaned.
“Jesus, Bray, you think you can just wing this?”
Yeah, he did, but he was still hoping he wouldn’t need to, also known as denial. He wiped a hand over his face.
“Is this why you have found a human to play with?”
Yes, it was, and he was eager to get back inside her. “She’s no one’s business.” He stood up. He’d had enough. “Vincent, you are my king and my brother, and I respect you, but you do not tell me what I can do with my life beyond my royal duties. Stay out of this.”
The king’s lips pressed together as disappointment lined his face.
Brayden took his royal responsibilities seriously. Never had he pushed back with such rebellion. He was a strong and independent prince who ran their army and supported his king. He would step up when required, but not today. Not if it took him away from Willow.
“Just answer me one question,” the king started as Brayden reached for the door handle. He nodded, not turning.
“Why her?”
He squeezed the handle. Why her, indeed?
“It’s nothing to do with her,” he lied and left the room.
Brayden watched as the sky darkened, tapping his foot, before he stepped outside. He would not waste time taking a car to Willow’s, not that he usually traveled by vehicle. He intended to spend every minute with her tonight.
He flashed to her street, ensuring he hadn’t been seen, then wandered up to the house.
He smiled, knowing the sight that would greet him on the other side of the door. He’d asked her to be ready, and he was curious how she would translate that.
His cock hardened. He adjusted his pants before he knocked and waited. She made him wait, and he liked it.
The door finally opened, and standing in front of him was a goddess in a white sundress. Nothing overly sexual about that, except this one was usually worn over a bikini. Sheer enough to hint at what was underneath, but not see-through.
He could see her nipples pressing against the fabric, hard as fuck, and it was clear she was not wearing panties, especially as she smiled at him and turned so he could see the back.
“Come in,” was all she said as she walked off.
“Hello, gorgeous.” His voice was dark and seductive.
Suddenly, she stopped and turned. He came to a stop in front of her, his hands outstretched to touch her, but she stepped away.
“Where are we going tonight?”
“Where?”
“For our date. Where are you taking me?”
Oh. Date. Right. Yeah, he’d been thinking bed, then bed, then bed, then maybe a few other spots in the house. Then bed.
He wouldn’t say that out loud. Not because he wasn’t in charge but because she deserved to be wined and dined, and he wanted to do this for her.
“Out. For dinner.”
“Okay.”
He leaned in. “But you’re not wearing this.”
She blushed, and he smirked. There was no way on fucking earth he was letting her leave the house wearing this dress so other men, or women, could see her bits. His protective nature was kicking in big time, competing with his cock for dominance.
He spun her around, pulling her back up against his chest.
“Tell me how wet you are right now.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
He licked her neck. Oh, how he wanted to bite and taste her. Shit. He had to get inside her before he lost control. In tormenting her, he’d been suffering as well. All day his balls had ached, wondering if she was touching herself. After the phone call, he’d pulled his cock out and squeezed the fuck out of it, fighting the urge to ejaculate. He hadn’t. He wanted to be inside her when he did.
“Answer the question,” he growled.
“Twenty.”
“Good.” Brayden lifted her and took the three steps to the sofa, bending her over. He lifted her skirt, downed his zipper, and felt his cock flap against his skin. “Spread your legs for me, Willow.”
He rubbed one hand up and down his cock, using the other to push his fingers into her pussy.
“Now you can come.” He removed his hand and pushed his cock into her in one fell swoop, and they cried out simultaneously. He wrapped his arms around her, taking one breast while licking her neck.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned.
She felt like an inferno around him, burning with desire. She clung to the sofa as he pumped and pumped, hardening further as her body responded.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, fuck me, Brayden.”
He pulled her up against his chest, flicking her clit, and they both came again and again until she could barely stand.
“I’ve got you,” he said, carrying her into the shower.
An hour later, they were being seated at their table in the restaurant. The sparkle in Willow’s eyes told him she loved the view. Boats were bobbing in their moorings as the moon, nearly full, cast a silvery glow across the soft waves.
“Can I get you any drinks?” the waiter asked Willow.
“I’m happy with water, thanks.”
Brayden asked for a carafe of water for them to share. As the man wandered off, Brayden gazed across the table at Willow. She was glowing in the after-sex haze women got. It had certainly subdued her sassy nature somewhat, and he couldn’t help feeling smug.
“What?” she asked in a whisper.
“You look beautiful.” He smiled wider.
A blush appeared on her cheeks. “Thank you.”
She had dressed, after their shower, in a mid-length black dress which hugged her breasts and hips seductively.
“I love knowing what’s underneath.”
“Well, you chose all of it.”
He grinned at the memory of lifting the lacy black teddy out of her drawer and requesting she wear it. Thoughts of those three little snaps being easily popped open so he could slip inside her during their evening caused a tightness in his pants.
She shook her head, grinning.
“Are you saying no to me, Willow?”
While she had smiled playfully, the thought she might say no to him didn’t sit well. If he wanted her, he would have her. He’d never wanted to dominate a female like he did her.
“Yes. I am.” She arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Let’s eat, talk, and get to know each other.”
He withheld the growl in his throat. She wouldn’t deny him. Her body was his, she just didn’t know it.
They placed their orders, and he lifted his glass to his lips, awaiting the questions he knew she’d ask. The same all females asked. The same he couldn’t answer regardless of the way he felt about her.
“So, where do you live? Your accent is odd; I can hear a Southern twang and some East Coast.”
Originally, he was from Europe. His mother had been Italian. Or, at least, from what now was Italy. His family was old. Incredibly old.
“We lived in South Carolina, and now Maine.” He nodded, keeping it brief.
“And yet you have a tan.”
“Thanks to my Italian grandfather,” Brayden responded.
He had a mountain of lies and excuses he could feed her, just as all vampires did. It was how they fit into the human world.
> “Ah, which explains your good looks.”
A smile reluctantly hit his lips at her compliment. It wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be his last, but hearing it from her was just sweeter.
Her questions continued.
“So how long are you in California for?”
This was the million-dollar question. It could be days or months.
“Unsure. We moved the business earlier this year, but there is talk of returning to the East Coast. Possibly soon.”
He watched her reaction, but she simply nodded and took a sip of her drink before she looked out at the sea.
She took another sip of water.
He took a sip of his.
She sighed loudly. “Are you not going to ask me questions?”
He took another sip.
“No. I know all I need to know. You are beautiful, funny, and sexy.”
“Don’t you want to know what I do during the day? Or what I like or don’t like?”
He sat back. “Okay, what do you do?”
“I work in media.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
Internally, he was rolling his eyes at the stupid questions. Brayden knew they were important to her, so he played along, which struck him as odd because he usually didn’t.
“Blue. No, white.”
“Which one?”
“White.”
He nodded while trying to conjure a better question.
“Are you married?” she suddenly asked.
“No. You asked me that last night.”
“Are you in a relationship?”
“No,” he answered again, patiently. Suddenly a thought hit him, elevating his heart rate rapidly. “Are you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
Great. One less murder on his hands to feel guilty about.
“Why the need to ask me again tonight?”
Dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, Willow leaned in and whispered, “Because you disappeared in the early hours of the morning, have zero interest in knowing anything important about me, and seem more concerned with how wet my pussy is.”
His pants tightened inappropriately.
“Is it?”
She narrowed her eyes and sat back as the server placed their meals in front of them.
Brayden took a mouthful of his Scotch fillet and chewed, watching her and awaiting more questions, but they didn’t come. With each lift of her fork, he felt her energy slipping away from him. She ate all her chicken cos salad, sipped her water, smiled at him, and stared out at the beautiful view.
She had decided he wasn’t for her.
He knew women. After hundreds of years of observing them, pleasuring them, he knew women. He knew the calm look they got which hid the sizzling emotion underneath that screamed fuck you.
He’d get the boot as soon as they had their next private moment. She would decide between their meal and the car ride home if they would have goodbye sex. He’d change her mind if she decided not to, which seemed arrogant, but it was true.
Of course, the power was his. All she wanted was for him to share more of himself with her. If he did, he’d need to let her into his world, which would be dangerous for them both. Lethal for her. He’d hurt her, eventually. Today, tomorrow, in a month—it didn’t matter because it was inevitable.
Brayden was leaving; he would likely become king while Willow continued her human life and met a man whom she would marry and have children with. They would need to have sex to do that. His jaw clenched at the thought of a man between her legs, lapping at her pussy, taking what was his.
Whoa.
She’s not mine.
Not mine.
Not, not, NOT mine.
He glanced across the table and saw her blush. Turning to see what she was looking at, he found a group of men, likely having a business meal, chatting. One of them was staring hungrily at her.
“See something you like?” he asked darkly.
Willow had already looked away shyly, but now she glanced up at him. “What?”
“You want to fuck him?” Brayden’s jaw clenched as he fought to contain his fangs. He was ready to fly across the room and rip the guy’s throat out.
“Of course not. He was just checking me out.”
“Not on my fucking watch.” He emptied his glass and stood. “Let’s go.”
He waited for her to stand, put his hand in the small of her back, and lead them out of the restaurant. The lucky guy would never know he’d been one step away from his last breath.
When they were some distance away, Willow turned and placed a hand on his chest. “Brayden, stop!”
His heart thumped in his chest and his eyes sizzled as he glared down at her.
“We just caught each other’s eye. It was harmless. You all but admitted you only want to fuck me, so why the jealousy?”
Yeah, Brayden, why the jealousy?
“If we weren’t in public, I would rip your fucking dress off and fuck you right here, right now,” he growled, gripping her hips.
She shook her head. “Take me home.”
Mother-fucking-fucker.
She just turned around and walked away from him.
Forty million minutes later, after a silent drive home, he pulled into her driveway and parked her car. Willow gathered her bag and opened the door.
“There is no other woman,” he spat out. “I have a demanding family and a family business. Responsibilities.”
She turned and looked at him.
“So? Many people do.”
Brayden gave her the elevator pitch they’d perfected and adjusted for modern times. It was vague enough to not require details, and had the added benefit of explaining their great wealth.
Willow would never be exposed to any of it, save what he flashed around. He wanted her to have the best he could offer, but no, anything to do with his family, the Moretti royal family, was off limits to Willow. She would not be going anywhere near them.
“It’s a huge amount of money and responsibility.”
“Whoa, so you’re mega rich.”
He nodded. “Like I said, enormous responsibility. Relationships are hard for me to fit into my life.”
“So you just don’t bother?”
“No.”
Why lie. He had nothing to offer her other than sex, and only for a few more days at that. Anything longer and women wanted to see your place and know more about you. Things Willow was already asking about.
Brayden sighed. He knew what he had to do. He got out of the vehicle and walked around to her door. Willow stepped out and stood in front of him.
“Come on. Let me walk you to the door.”
She sighed and took his hand as they walked up the long path. At the door, he gripped her hips and leaned down, kissing her gently. “I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” She lowered her eyes. “I guess I misread what we shared last night. So stupid.”
A pain shot through his chest. Goddamn, he wanted to lift her in his arms and promise her the world. Just not his world.
“No, hey,” he said anyway, lifting her chin. “Don’t do that. I just...”
“I know. I heard you. Business and your family are your priority,” she snapped. She was getting defensive, and he was glad. Angry Willow would bounce back. “I guess this is a good thing. I don’t settle for second or third fiddle, anyway.”
Fuck, she was amazing.
“You deserve to be number one, absolutely.”
She nodded. “Well, then...”
She took her car keys from him and turned away. She stopped and looked down. His eyes followed. It was his hands holding her hips; he wasn’t letting her go. She looked up at him in question as his own flared back at her with the possession of an alpha vampire, those visions of her moving on with her life playing like a movie in front of him.
“Brayden.”
“You deserve to be number one,” he repeated, his voice strained.
“Yes, you said. Can
you please let me go?”
NO!
What?
Fuck.
She placed her hands on his forearms and tried to loosen his grip. There was no way any human could budge him. Very few vampires could, if any.
“You need to let me go.”
“Do I?” he growled. He heard her heart begin to beat faster. Much faster.
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not sure I can, Willow.” He reached around her and opened the front door, despite it being locked, and pulled her inside the house.
Confusion lined her face, but he couldn’t explain what he was doing—to her or to himself. He pulled her handbag off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
He slammed his lips down on hers, then pressed her against the wall. There was nothing sexual about this; it was pure and potent possession. He grabbed her head in his hands, stared at her as they both gasped, then plunged into her mouth, devouring her, tasting her, owning her.
Panting, they pulled apart and he breathed her in. Her scent, her energy, her essence.
“I can’t,” he said, voice thick with gravel.
“Then go.” Her eyes were wet with both desire and sadness.
“No, I can’t go.”
She shook her head, confused.
He suddenly released her and began pacing the living room. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never had a problem walking away from a woman before, never in hundreds of years. He turned and looked at her, really looking at her, stunned.
Was she his mate?
Willow stood with her arms wrapped around her waist, unmoving. Her hair was rumpled, her mouth taut, and her eyes were darting around the room. She licked her lips.
No. He would know. His eyes hadn’t changed yet, in any case. That was the confirmation he’d need.
“I think,” he said, wondering how on earth to phrase this. “I think I just need more of you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You...you think you need more of me? Like I’m a can of coke or something?”
He put his hands on his hips, watching as she picked up her handbag and stormed into her bedroom. Okay, well, it had sounded better in his head.
If only he could explain. He understood her point, but if only she could see it from his point of view—which he couldn’t ever explain.
Ever.
The Vampire Prince Page 4
