Wild King

by Geneva Lee

  “Everything okay?” Anders asked. He had pulled Brex off while Norris barely contained me. His own nose was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Brilliant,” I grunted, pulling free of Norris. My shirt was covered in dirt, I’d just been caught brawling with my friend, and I didn’t give one fuck. I levelled a glare at Anders. This had started with him. If he’d had the decency to live a nice quiet life, none of us would be here now. Instead, he’d unwittingly placed himself into the spotlight.

  “We should be going,” Norris urged in a low voice.

  “What is your problem?” Anders asked.

  Brex laughed, spitting a wad of bloody saliva on the dirt. He knew exactly what my problem was.

  “You.” I growled at him.

  “You should get him out of here,” Anderson said, taking a step away. “Before someone sees.”

  Hate rolled through me. He didn’t get to play at being in charge. “You don’t presume to order me around!”

  “Maybe someone should.” Anderson moved closer to me, getting in my face. Neither Brex nor Norris tried to stop him. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement. Anders might not know he was my brother, but he was a member of the royal family. Whatever was about to go down, they shouldn’t intercede in a family matter.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You order them around. You order Clara around. It might do you good to be on the receiving end.”

  “Do you think you know her? Because whatever fantasy you’ve concocted in your head. She is my wife. She belongs to me.”

  “Belongs?” he repeated with wide eyes. “I shouldn’t expect any better from someone like you. But Christ, do you hear yourself?”

  “Stay away from her.” I jabbed a finger into his chest, knocking him back a few inches.

  “Clara might put up with that—and God knows why—but I won’t. I don’t care who you are,” he warned me.

  “You should.”

  Brex moved behind him, waiting for one us to move. Apparently, there was a line they wouldn’t allow either of us to cross. I turned away, keeping my fists at my sides. “I’ll see you around.”

  Anders shook his head as he strode back to the pub. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ALEXANDER

  By the time we reached the house, I already regretted what had happened. Mostly, because I hadn’t gotten in a few more drinks before the fight. Now I was sober, bruised, bleeding, and I had to face my wife. No one had spoken on the ride back, but Brex stopped me at the door.

  “I’ll tender my resignation in the morning.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke. I wasn’t certain what I’d find if he did. Hatred? Shame?

  “Why would you do that?” I asked him in a rough voice.

  “It’s generally poor form to hit the person you’re protecting,” he said.

  “I didn’t ask you out tonight as my bodyguard. I asked you as my friend.”

  He snorted and I thought I saw the edge of a smile, but he held it back. “I feel I should tell you it’s poor form to hit your friends, too.”

  “Not if they deserve it,” I told him. “But to be clear, I’m still pissed at you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “But you’re not resigning.” As far as I was concerned, that was the final word on that.

  I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen peas for my hand and digging a bottle of Scotch from the cupboard. Norris slid me a glass. He still hadn’t spoken.

  “Care to get one more shot in?” I asked him, pouring a drink. I slid him the glass and took a swig out of the bottle. It burned down my throat, a reminder I’d made my own hell.

  “I think you’ll get yours soon enough.” He sounded tired. If I had to put up with me, I would be, too.

  “Time to face the firing squad.” I took another long drag from the bottle and abandoned it on the counter.

  Neither of them followed me into the west wing of the house. With any luck, Clara would be asleep. Not that facing this in the morning would be any better. I had no hope that word of my indiscretion wouldn’t spread through Silverstone by morning. I had no idea who had seen, and I couldn’t imagine that Anderson would keep my secret. Not when he so clearly wanted me out of the picture.

  If only he knew what I’d given him. An opportunity for a normal life. Yet, he was here rubbing that sacrifice in my face. It was unfair to judge him for it. He didn’t know better. But that didn’t stop me from hating him.

  Clara sat up in bed the moment the door opened, rubbing her eyes.

  “X?” she called out.

  Busted.

  “Go back to sleep,” I said in a low voice.

  She was already flipping on the bedside lamp. Her eyes landed on me, taking in my sloppy appearance. Dirty shirt. Bruised face. She zeroed in on the cut still oozing blood on my eyebrow. So much for putting this off until morning.

  “What happened?” The question was full of awe and a fair bit of righteous anger. She was giving me the courtesy of not jumping to conclusions, although she clearly had.

  “The guys and I went to grab a drink.” That was true. I wasn’t lying to her. I was just leaving some things out.

  “The guys and you went to grab a drink?” She repeated as though I had been speaking another language. “The guys and you went to grab a drink?”

  “That’s what I said.” I made my way to the bathroom and flinched when I saw my face in the mirror. No wonder Clara was upset. Soft footsteps padded across the floor and she appeared behind me. She took one more look at me, sighed in frustration, and started opening drawers. She slammed them shut, until she landed on one that held first-aid supplies.

  “Your hands,” she said in a strangled voice.

  “I had a little accident,” I told her.

  “With someone’s fist?” she guessed. It wasn’t exactly hard to deduce. Scotch on my breath, bloody knuckles, and dirty clothes—the evidence was there.

  “Brex.”

  She relaxed a little. It was probably better news than she was hoping for, given my state. At least I’d been pounding on a friend. “How does he look?”

  “He’s still pretty if that’s what you’re asking,” I said, sucking in a breath as she doused my knuckles with rubbing alcohol.

  “That’s going to hurt,” she said flatly.

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  She reached up and took my chin, moving my head from side to side to check me out.

  “Did anyone see this fight?”

  I shrugged.

  “Alexander Cambridge,” she said, no longer holding back her fury. “You are the King of England. Did anyone see this fight?”

  “It’s hard to say.” I plastered my most charming smile on my face, but the expression on hers didn’t change. “A lot of people were fighting.”

  She dropped her head into her hands, shaking it slowly. “And you’re worried about me being out in public.”

  Fury rolled off her in waves. I could swear that if I reached out I would feel its heat. I followed her—at a safe distance—into the bedroom. She strode across it, going for her phone. It’d become instinct to check the news. That was what Norris would be doing. Perhaps Brex, too. I stopped her before she reached it.

  “This is under control,” I told her.

  “If you believe that, then you’re more out-of-control than I thought,” she said. “Where did this happen?” If she couldn’t look up the details, she’d get them from the source.

  “A pub,” I said in an offhanded way. Her eyes narrowed as she connected the dots.

  “Would it have been the Dark Horse by any chance?”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in his offer,” I said through gritted teeth. The fact she remembered the name of the pub told me she’d been paying attention.

  “You’re unbelievable.” She smacked my chest. “You show up here with bloody knuckles, fresh from a bar fight, and you have the nerve to act l
ike I did something wrong.”

  She had a point.

  “This one’s on me,” I admitted.

  “This is going to be a mess.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Why did you come here?” she asked.

  “I missed you,” I said.

  “The real reason, X.”

  So she wasn’t buying it. I tried to imagine the mental gymnastics she was going through, trying to figure out what was going on in my head. I reminded myself that now wasn’t the time to tell her. She had enough on her plate. Now she not only had to worry about hosting the games, she had to think about what would happen if the media got ahold of this story.

  I was cocking things up left and right.

  “I came for you,” I repeated gruffly. Advancing on her, I pushed her against the wall. That part was true. How could she question that? Clara ducked out from underneath my arms and put a healthy distance between us.

  “Are you testing me? Because that doesn’t seem like a very good idea.”

  I made my way closer, prowling like a panther across the room. She knew better than to expect me to heed her warning. In fact, I thought that might be the point. Of course, that could also be the Scotch thinking. I caught Clara in my arms and lifted her off her feet. Taking her to the bed, I dropped her on it, recalling how the previous evening we’d made love. That wasn’t what I wanted now. I wanted to possess her.

  “This isn’t going to change anything,” she breathed as I pounced on top of her.

  I bit down on her shoulder, pushing aside the strap of her nightdress while I reached down and undid my fly.

  “Believe me, Poppet, I know that.” Shoving up the gown, I pushed inside her with the one thrust. Clara let out a breathy cry, her fingers sinking into my back, raking across the fabric of my shirt, as I began to pound inside her. I needed to make her mine. I needed to remind her that she belonged to me. No one would question that. Not even her. She panted, groaning with every sharp jab of my hips. My hands sought hers, lifting them over her head and pinning her against the mattress until she was helpless beneath me. A strangled moan spilled from her, releasing me and I came with a violent shuttering burst. A moment of relief quickly swallowed by regret. I stared down at her, but there were no tears in her eyes tonight. Instead, they were full of challenge. The flush of satisfaction on her cheeks deepened into a furious red.

  “Clara, I…” But I could find no words. I lowered my mouth, needing to make this okay. Needing to show her that I was sorry. But before our lips met, she whispered one word.

  “Brimstone.”

  My reaction was instantaneous—involuntary. My hands released hers and I recoiled, falling back onto the bed, and staring at her. Why had she let me take it that far? How had she felt? I was a monster. She sat up, pulling the straps of her nightgown up to cover her breasts which had spilled over.

  “What is this about?” she demanded.

  “I was drinking,” I said, trying to find the right words to apologize. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re lying,” she accused. Before I could respond, she continued quickly, “I know you’re lying. I’ve known you were lying—for weeks. I thought you would tell me the truth. I thought if I gave you space.” She pushed off the bed and made her way across the room, disappearing into the closet.

  “It’s complicated,” I called after her. Where was she planning to go at this hour? I couldn’t stop her from leaving, not after she’d used her safe word. That was the deal—the one promise I would never breach. If only I’d been able to keep myself from crossing other boundaries.

  “It really isn’t.” She stuck her head out the door. When she reappeared, she was carrying my bag.

  “I think it’s time to go,” she said.

  “I’m glad you agree. We should go back to London. We can work this out. Away from all of this—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “You should go back to London.”

  “Clara, I’m not leaving you here.”

  “You don’t have a choice. I’m staying. You’re going. End of discussion.”

  I opened my mouth to argue with her, but I didn’t get another word out before she threw my bag at my feet.

  “Get out,” she repeated before she turned and walked into the bathroom. The lock clicked behind her.

  I hadn’t brought much with me to Silverstone. I’d only planned to stay a few days, so it only took me a few minutes to pack up my belongings. Clara didn’t reappear. I paused at the door, considering my options. Part of me wanted to knock. Another part of me was willing to plead with her to see my side of things. The other part of me wanted to break down the door and drag her out. I couldn’t allow myself to do any of those things. Not when she’d made her wishes so clearly known. Instead, I listened for a moment until I was certain that she wasn’t crying and then I made my way downstairs.

  Brex and Norris were still sitting in the kitchen. Norris hadn’t touched the glass of Scotch I’d poured for him before I left. I raised an eyebrow. Brex blinked rapidly. He had clearly thrown a few back.

  “We thought you might be needing us?” Norris said. He’d known exactly what was about to happen.

  “Plus, it sounded like the house was about to come down. You two were so loud.” Brex finished his glass and poured himself another.

  “If you’re going to keep drinking, call Georgia and let her know she’s on point tonight,” I barked at him.

  Brex sat back, took one look at me, and took another drink.

  “I’m quite capable of handling matters,” Norris began, but I held up a hand.

  “We’re heading back to London.” I didn’t explain further. I didn’t have to. If either of them were surprised, neither showed it.

  “I’ll let Georgia know,” Brex said. “Any other instructions?”

  “Keep an eye on her,” I ordered him, opening the door that lead to the garage. “Make sure no one gets too close to her.”

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “No, keep an eye on him, too.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CLARA

  I avoided my mobile when I woke up and focused on damage control. My eyes were swollen and puffy from crying, I had no appetite, and sadness had shifted to righteous indignation overnight. I wasn’t hurt anymore. I was furious. I’d worked my anger into apoplectic levels by the time I was dressed.

  Checking in, I found Penny changing Elizabeth. My heart sank and I tried to ignore its traitorous plunge. I’d told Alexander to leave, so I couldn’t be disappointed that he had. I wasn’t certain what I would have done if I’d found he’d stayed. Still, it seemed like his husband barometer was off. He had a tendency to leave when he should stay and fight. Or ignore me when I needed him to listen.

  Penny handed Elizabeth to me, her eyes sweeping over me. “I thought His Majesty might be here this morning.”

  “He had to leave for London.” I forced a brittle smile.

  “I thought he might,” she said in an offhanded way.

  My blood ran cold, and I clutched Elizabeth so tightly that she squawked in protest. “Why would you think that?”

  Penny turned a shade of scarlet darker than her hair. “No reason, ma’am. It’s just that I saw something on the news.”

  I didn’t have to ask what she’d seen on the news, because I had a damn good idea what it was.

  “Penny,” I said in a strangled voice, “we have a race today, so I think it’s best if Elizabeth stays here. It will be too loud there and I know I’ll be distracted. I’ll check in this afternoon and I’ll have my phone.”

  “Of course.” She sounded relieved that I wasn’t going to press her for answers.

  I excused myself and grabbed my phone. There were dozens of notifications, but I didn’t bother to check any of them. Instead I went straight to trending news. There he was.

  Alexander thought no one would single him out last night, but he was wrong. Someone had gotten a photo. It had gone
viral.

  I didn’t have the stamina to deal with the fallout from this as well as my duties to the games. Alexander didn’t want to tell me the truth, which meant this wasn’t my problem. The trouble was that no matter how hard I tried to sell myself on that, I couldn’t. I’d signed up to deal with all his troubles when we’d gotten married. I was pretty sure whatever was going on still fell under the whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing.

  Choosing not to respond, I went downstairs and forced myself to eat some toast. I had no idea if my queasy stomach was from morning sickness or stress. But I needed to eat, so I stuck with something I could keep down. Brex joined me in the kitchen and eyed my toast without comment.

  I slammed a cabinet door and he winced, rubbing his temples gingerly. It looked like he had a hangover. I didn’t bother to ask him what had caused it. I knew exactly where it had come from. Instead, I kept my commentary to a disapproving scowl until we reached the track. Brex continued alongside me, but I turned on him.

  “I think I’d rather have Georgia with me today.” It wasn’t his fault he’d gotten into a fight with Alexander. I imagined my husband deserved it. Hell, I probably would have sided with Brex. But I suspected the fight has started over whatever Alexander was hiding. If that was the case, then Alexander trusted him more than me. I couldn’t stomach the idea. It didn’t matter how long they’d been friends. I was his wife.

  And the fact that Brex might know tempted me to bring it up. Would he tell me if I asked? That wasn’t how I wanted to find out.

  Brexton didn’t argue with me. Instead, he waved Georgia over. She appeared, studying her nails. The perk of having her beside me was that she blended into the crowd more easily. She didn’t feel the need to wear the stock uniform of the rest of the bodyguards. There were no suits. No ties. Her hair hid whatever earpiece I assumed she wore. Instead, she was dressed down in jeans and a leather jacket. It was a bit more casual than my wool peacoat and skinny black trousers, but next to each other we looked like friends. We were about the same age. It wouldn’t be a stretch. But we weren’t friends, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which we would be. For a moment, I recalled the first moment I saw her. It seemed like a million years ago. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to her then. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess now.