Especially when you’re not worthy of it.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and he stopped, deep inside her, looking down at her. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice sounded raw. ‘Upset you?’
She shook her head, for the moment unable to speak, because the strange feeling had closed her throat. Clearly, from the way he was looking at her, this kind of reaction wasn’t expected and it made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn’t when he’d first undressed her and touched her.
She didn’t understand the feeling, so she reached up to him, took his face between her hands and drew his mouth down on hers, kissing him instead.
And then everything became a whole lot hotter and more desperate.
He began to move inside her, slow, deep thrusts that took hold of her desire and turned it sharper, a bright and intense pleasure moving through her.
She forgot her vulnerability. Forgot about worthiness or deserving. There was only him and the exquisite movement of his hips, the raw heat in his blue eyes, and the deep sounds of masculine pleasure that came from him every time he thrust.
It was amazing. She could barely stand it.
Anna wound her legs around his lean hips, following the rhythm he showed her, taking it and making it her own, lost to the intensity of the pleasure that gripped her.
And when the orgasm came, swelling inside her like a wave, she could only lie there staring up at him as it swept her up and drowned her in pleasure, making her cry his name aloud, holding onto him as if he were her anchor.
She was hardly aware of him moving faster, harder, his breathing as wild and as raw as hers, calling her name in answer, as he turned his face into her neck, and followed her into the tide.
Adonis tried to catch his breath and failed. The orgasm had felt like a cataclysm moving through him, a force of nature he couldn’t control. It had broken over his head like a thunderstorm and all he’d been able to do was lie there with his head turned against Anna’s skin, inhaling the scent of female arousal, lavender and sex, as pleasure blasted his world apart.
He couldn’t move and so he didn’t, shifting only so he wasn’t lying directly on top of her because she was small and he didn’t want to crush her.
Her own breathing was loud in his ear, a frantic, rushing sound that eventually slowed, the shaking in her body ebbing as the aftershocks faded, the hold she had on his shoulders loosening.
He felt raw and possessive and a little savage, none of which he should be feeling, and he found he’d pulled himself up to look at her, to see whether she was as wrecked as he was.
Her skin had gone a deep pink, curls of hair sticking to her forehead, the sheen of perspiration on her brow and in the hollow of her throat. Her eyes were very dark, her mouth full and red and swollen from his kisses.
Yes, he’d wrecked her. He’d wrecked her utterly.
The savage possessiveness gripped him tighter, along with a fierce satisfaction that absolutely should not have been there.
You cannot let her get to you. Look what she made you do!
His gut lurched, a cold sensation gripping him.
He’d known taking her was wrong and yet he’d done it anyway. All because she’d touched him...all because she’d looked at him with silver burning in her eyes. And he could tell himself all kinds of lies about why he’d changed his mind, but the fact remained that he’d taken her because his control had slipped.
After all these years does your brother’s pain still mean nothing?
Her hand came up and touched his mouth, a leisurely, sensual touch, and she smiled one of her luminous smiles. And he could feel something inside him respond, embers in the dead hearth of his heart glowing.
He moved instinctively, pulling away from her, pushing himself off her and up, beginning to reach for his clothes. The cold sensation was spreading through his blood now, icing the warmth she’d given him.
Because it wasn’t true. He hadn’t forgotten his brother’s pain—the pain their father had put Xerxes through in order to teach Adonis what it truly meant to be a king. How emotion could be a weapon that in the wrong hands could take down a nation.
It had taken Adonis years to learn to get rid of those weaknesses in himself, to tame his own rebellious heart, and his failure to do so earlier had caused his little brother even more hurt. But those lessons had sunk in eventually and he couldn’t forget them now. Couldn’t throw all those lessons aside just because he wasn’t able to resist one sexy little nun.
‘Adonis?’ Her voice, husky and soft, came from behind him. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ He began to pull his clothes on, ruthlessly crushing the cold sensation in the pit of his stomach.
You put yourself first. That’s what you always do.
‘I think there’s something,’ she said. ‘Did I do something wrong? Is that the—’
‘No,’ he interrupted flatly, making his voice hard. ‘It isn’t you.’ He pulled his shirt on and turned around.
She was sitting on the couch, still naked, still pink. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in a pale gold tangle and she looked like any red-blooded man’s wet dream, all lush female curves and touchable silky skin. A frown creased her brow and there was a concerned expression in her eyes, though whether that was for herself or for him, he wasn’t sure.
‘Then what is it?’ she asked.
‘Other things.’ He knew he sounded dismissive, yet made no effort to temper his tone. The best thing for both of them right now was for her to leave. He’d made a mistake, but not one he’d compound by spending any more time with her than he had to.
His detachment might not be as perfect as he’d first thought, but he could fix that. Feeling possessive over one little nun wouldn’t break him. He’d patch up his weaknesses, shore up his defences. No one would be able to use his emotions against him, because he simply wouldn’t have any.
‘Once that crown is on your head you as a person cease to exist,’ Xenophon had told him once. ‘You’re not a brother. Not a son. Not a friend. You are Axios. Remember that. You are the king and there is no room for you to have or to be anything else.’
He wasn’t anything else. Once, he had been. But he wasn’t now and he couldn’t forget that.
‘Do you need help finding your way back to your room?’ he asked expressionlessly.
Disappointment flickered over her face. ‘Adonis,’ she began.
But the sound of his name made that tight sensation grip him again and he knew he couldn’t allow her to use it. ‘You may address me as sire.’
A spark of silver gleamed in her eyes.
You’re hurting her.
It shouldn’t matter. She had to be merely a woman with whom he’d spent a pleasant half-hour, nothing more. He couldn’t afford for her to be anything else. His detachment was everything and right now she compromised it.
Still, she was his godmother’s charge and he owed her more than a cold dismissal.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself over to where she sat and crouched down in front of her. Not a good move when that brought him close to her naked body and he could feel the pull of desire rising inside him again, making him hard. Making him want to push her back down onto the cushions and teach her a few more new things.
But he only reached out and took her hands in his, holding them. ‘We only had this moment,’ he said, consciously keeping his voice gentle. ‘I did tell you that.’
She stared at him a moment and then pulled her fingers from his. ‘Yes, thank you, I know that,’ she said coolly. ‘There’s no need to treat me like a child.’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘Then don’t look at me like one.’
‘I’m not looking at you like anything.’ She rose to her feet and moved past him, enveloping him in a wave of lavender, musk and sex, making him inexplicably want to reach out and grab her, to put his hands all over
that beautiful body.
But he was strong and so he didn’t. He rose to his feet too and watched her as she went to grab her clothes, beginning to pull them on in a series of small, deliberate movements.
That was a mistake.
Yes, obviously.
‘You looked disappointed,’ he said, again not sure why he was bothering to explain himself.
‘You said nothing was wrong and that’s clearly a lie.’ She smoothed her dress. ‘I was only disappointed you didn’t want to share what it was with me.’
‘I don’t have to tell you. I’m not your boyfriend, Anna.’
She opened her mouth, probably to say something sharp. But then she must have thought better of it, because she closed it again, bending to pick up the tie for her hair instead. ‘Yes,’ she said in that cool voice, as she tied back her hair ‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘Anna—’
‘You got up suddenly and all I wanted to know was whether there was anything bothering you. I wasn’t asking you for a rundown of your entire life up to this point or for you to get down on your knees and declare your undying love. I only asked because it seemed like something was wrong, but if you didn’t want to answer, you could have just said. You didn’t need to treat me like some fragile flower who doesn’t know the difference between casual sex and true love.’
His jaw tightened. This was not how he’d thought this would end.
How did you think it would end?
The question annoyed him. The whole situation annoyed him. Her feelings shouldn’t touch him yet they had and he didn’t know why.
He couldn’t even tell himself that it wasn’t his fault. Not when it was his control that had slipped. What was he thinking? He was normally much better at handling the women he slept with.
The women you sleep with are not normally nuns.
As if he needed yet another reminder of how he’d forgotten his father’s lessons and allowed himself to think that he was a man.
He wasn’t. He was a king.
Adonis remembered his crown and straightened. ‘Then let us be very clear. That was casual sex. And there will not be another instance. We will go on as if it never happened.’
Her pretty grey eyes were snapping with temper and he thought he detected another flash of hurt. But then it was gone. ‘Yes, fine.’
‘You are simply my daughter’s companion and that is all.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ she said, and there was an edge to the words, a sarcasm that hadn’t been there before. ‘We wouldn’t want it any other way.’
Your Majesty... You don’t want her to call you that.
He ignored the thought, and shoved it hard from his head. ‘Then you are dismissed,’ he said coldly.
He thought she might argue with him further, but she didn’t. She said nothing, simply turning on her heel and walking out.
And he tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed about that. Not at all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANNA SPENT THE following couple of days furious and trying very hard not to be. The nuns had always cautioned against allowing negative emotions such as anger or jealousy to rule her and she’d thought she’d managed to overcome those weaknesses in herself.
But every time she thought of that moment in Adonis’s—no, the king’s—office, where he’d suddenly turned from a passionate man back into the cold, emotionless king, it made her so angry she could hardly stand it.
She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid. And she might be sheltered, but she knew good sex didn’t equal love. Even exceptional sex, though she had nothing to compare it to and, for all she knew, sex was like that for everyone every time.
So, she’d felt close to him. So, she’d wanted to know him. So, he’d made her feel things about herself that no one had ever made her feel before. So what?
Those were all feelings that had been prompted by physical pleasure, that was all.
She hadn’t fallen magically in love with him. In fact, right now, she didn’t even like him.
She tried to do what he’d told her, which was to forget all about what had happened between them and concentrate on Ione instead. But she found that at odd times she’d suddenly find herself remembering his hands on her skin, or the way he’d felt inside her; the pleasure that had bloomed throughout her entire body; the look in his blue eyes and the way her chest had tightened in wonder; the strange sadness that had gripped her as she’d thought about him being a mountain and having no one.
And something whispered to her that there was a reason she’d been so angry with him and so offended in the aftermath. A reason she hadn’t protested at his cold dismissal.
It was because she was disappointed—worse, she was hurt. And even worse than that, she knew she had no reason to be. He’d been clear about what the sex would be between them. It was she who hadn’t understood how it would affect her.
You were wrong. You are a fragile flower.
But she didn’t want to think about that, so she didn’t. Instead, she pursued her determination to help Ione. Adonis—the king—had sent word that her evening reports on Ione’s progress would now be given to one of his aides rather than to himself, and he refused all requests for an audience as he was very busy at present.
It was enough to make her think that he was avoiding her, though she couldn’t imagine why. Had it been that the passion between them had touched something in him, too? And now he couldn’t be around her? But then, why would that be?
Whatever he was doing, it irritated her. So she went to Prince Xerxes instead, laying out her reasons for wanting to take Ione into Itheus without her usual contingent of soldiers.
Xerxes was—unlike his brother—understanding. He was also charming and so ridiculously handsome that he made Anna feel a little like a starstruck teenager. It turned out he had the same fears that Ione wasn’t getting the attention she deserved either—he’d become a father six months earlier himself—and promised he’d take the matter to his brother personally.
He must have been far more persuasive than Anna because the next day Anna was granted permission to take Ione into the city with a contingent of two of the palace’s most elite soldiers in plain clothes.
The day was beautiful, warm, and sunny, and Anna held fast to the little girl’s hand as Ione charged around Itheus’s narrow cobbled streets, loudly telling Anna about this thing or that thing. That’s the church where Uncle Xerxes married Aunt Calista. That’s where Papa married Mama.
That caused a small pang of grief in Anna’s heart. Ione didn’t seem to mind talking about her mother. And after they visited the shop that was renowned throughout Axios, even throughout Europe, for its ice cream, and came outside into the bustling streets, licking melting ice cream from the crisp waffle cones, Anna asked another couple of questions about her.
Ione said very matter-of-factly that something had been wrong with Mama’s heart and so she’d died when Ione was still a baby. Was that a playground? Could they go over and play in it?
That the little girl couldn’t remember her mother made Anna’s heart ache in sympathy. The princess was so very alone. Her father was cold, kept his daughter at a distance, and so she was left to an army of people who looked after her and cared for her. But they wouldn’t love her as a mother would. They wouldn’t want to get to know her, chat to her, treat her as though she was an ordinary, albeit very special, little girl, and not the heir to the throne.
Resolve settled down through Anna as she wiped the ice cream from Ione’s face then let her go and play in the playground. The Reverend Mother had been right to send her to Axios, regardless of whether the old lady thought she was sending Anna to the king or not. Anna wasn’t here for him. She was here for this lonely, motherless girl. And she was uniquely qualified to understand Ione, because she’d been a lonely, motherless girl herself. The nuns h
ad given her a home and they’d given her love, but it wasn’t a mother’s love. It wasn’t warm or personal. It was distant and stern and vaguely disapproving.
Like the king.
Anna watched Ione squealing with laughter as she and another girl raced around the playground, the two guards loitering at a discreet distance, and determination settled in her heart.
This little girl needed more than that. She was passionate and giving, with a bright, sparky spirit. And though she might be motherless, she wasn’t fatherless. She still had a parent. That was who she needed, not a large contingent of guards and nannies. Not even a stranger like herself to ‘manage’ her behaviour.
No, she needed her father.
Does he even know how to be one?
Emotion coiled inside her, bittersweet and raw, because she suspected she knew the answer to that. Adonis was a mountain and mountains were distant and icy. They protected and yet they sat apart. They did not bother themselves with the people who lived at their base.
Anna turned away from the children playing and glanced behind her, at the mountains, the ones that reached high above Itheus, all rocky crags and sharp edges. She looked at the palace that had been built into the side of them, as sharp and as dark as the king who ruled it. A medieval fortress, closely guarded and well defended.
Like his heart.
Did he even have one? Well, if he did, he needed to open it. For his daughter’s sake. And there probably wasn’t another person in the entire world who would dare demand that he do it. No one but Anna.
Prince Xerxes had his own daughter to look after and the army of servants and guards would never dare challenge the king. But Anna would.
And if it gets you sent home in disgrace?
Then at least she would have tried. Nothing would change if she didn’t try.
The day was such a success that the king relented and allowed Anna to take Ione to the playground a number of times in the days following, and even to the swimming pool in Itheus, rather than the palace’s own pool. But he still refused all requests for Anna to speak to him directly. He was always in meetings or away from the palace, or undertaking public duties or some other thing that meant she couldn’t talk to him.
The Most Powerful Of Kings (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal House of Axios, Book 2) Page 9
