Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1)

by Michele Barrow-Belisle

  I walked in and was immediately stopped. “Oh, my god.” A flash of anger tore through me. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

  He gave a start and looked at me. “Kat, you're awake.”

  “I said, what are you doing?” I glared at him, and at the book he was holding. My journal. The one overflowing with my deepest darkest thoughts. Fears, dreams and oh, god...all sorts of stuff about him.

  He arched a brow, lifting my journal and showing it to me, as if fessing up was going to keep him alive. “So, what is this book? Did you write it? And you really think I have washboard abs?” His lips curled into a grin.

  I crossed the room quickly and snatched it from him. “This is private,” I snapped. “I never let anyone read my private things.”

  “Maybe that's the problem, Kat. Why you feel so alone,” he said, rising.

  He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Arrogant, entitled...

  Mortified, I slammed it shut. “You know, I get that you royals think you can do as you please, but here in commoner-land, it’s considered really rude to read other people’s journals without their permission.”

  “You have to let people in some time. Not everyone is out to hurt you.”

  “And obviously, not everyone is capable of respecting other's privacy.”

  “I respect the hell out of you.”

  “That's not what I meant, and you know it.” I folded my arms, hugging my journal against me.

  “True none the less.” He stalked toward me and my chest tightened. His gaze never once faltered from mine. “It says you dream about me. About being with me. About sleeping with me.”

  I swallowed, though it did little good with my mouth as desert-dry as it was. “Yeah, well, it also says I want to marry a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s. Don’t take everything you read so literally.”

  He kept prowling closer. “So, you don’t want to know what it would be like to have me inside you?”

  Oh, crap. Had I actually written that? My mind reeled. I couldn't remember, which meant I could have written god knew how many more details about my fantasies with him. This went far beyond breaking the rules. This was probably treason. Or worse. What could be worse than treason against the crown? Oh, wait, I know. Treason against the crown by a witch!

  Panic escalated as my gaze landed back on his. He was still so close. Much too close.

  I sucked in a slow breath. There was no way I could answer that question. Not without creating more problems than I already had.

  His brow arched. “No answer? Tell me this then,” he said quietly. “If I’d have asked you first, would you have let me in?”

  “In where?” I whispered.

  “Inside. Inside of you?”

  I felt my stomach drop, the way it did when I rode the lift, just before it landed.

  “Inside your heart and mind.” He gave a half grin, as though he could see through my tangled emotions and straight into my soul.

  I just shook my head. “I think... I think you’ve missed the point,” I said, and I sounded like I was losing my voice. “You should have asked for permission first. It’s too late now.”

  I turned away, but his hand held my arm and pulled me back, keeping my gaze on his. He leaned in, his hair fell over his forehead, sweeping over his left eyebrow. “And would you have said yes?” His voice dipped lower. “If I’d asked…”

  “I don’t know.” Man, it’s hot in here. So damn hot. Tiny beads of sweat moistened my brow. With my free hand, I swiped them away, then lowered my arm. He caught my other wrist on its way down. “You’re avoiding my question, Kat,” he said, his voice taking on an edge.

  I shivered at the way he was touching me. Both of his hands were on my body. I felt waves of heat course over my skin, even though beneath it I was shivering.

  His lips quirked up at the corner. He leaned in, still gently holding both of my wrists at my sides. His lips grazed the edge of my ear, and I shuddered against him.

  “What if I asked you now?” he whispered.

  I could barely even make out the words he was saying over the wild response my body was reacting to them. He could have been having me arrested and I wouldn’t have known. But he wasn’t.

  “What if I wanted to be inside you right now? Would you say yes?”

  Would I? Was he asking? Did I have a choice? Did I want one? Oh, god…

  He released my wrists. “The choice is yours.” His fingers trailed up my arm to my neck, then circled behind. “I’d never pressure you into sharing anything you weren’t ready for, Kat. You know that.”

  I did. I knew that. I knew he was patient. And took his time and was insanely good at whatever he did. And I knew that letting him in physically would be far less intimate than letting him in emotionally. But I had no idea how to separate the two. It was a bad idea. Worse than bad. It was a catastrophic idea.

  Hannah said the last girl who’d slept with him vanished without a trace into obscurity. I didn’t believe the rumors that they’d had her killed… I mean, they were the royal family, not the mafia. But I did believe they had the power to make people disappear if they wanted. And they would definitely want me to disappear if I, we, did this.

  I pulled staggered breaths into my lungs and beat back the urge luring me to say yes. “I, uh, don’t think that would be a smart idea.”

  His gaze travelled to my lips as they moved then back to my eyes. “No? Why not?”

  “Because you’re a prince,” I blurted, feeling thoroughly conflicted and unnerved. “And, because I hate donuts.”

  Then just like that, the spell was broken, and I fell backward a few steps. Gasping for air, I pressed both hands to my thighs, hunched over. How was it so hot in here?

  When I straightened, Ethan had an unreadable expression on his royally gorgeous face. He was confused, of course. A disdain for donuts sounded like a crazy reason not to submit to someone like him. And yet, that was what I’d be risking. My job, my future, my life away from the donut shoppe. Nothing, not even him…was worth that risk.

  “You impress me, Katriana Stark,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ve never had anyone turn me down with such determination before.”

  “Well, perhaps you’ve never asked them for something so… intimate, before.”

  “I apologize.” He dipped his head. “You’re just so…” His gaze held mine briefly, then he smiled.

  I couldn’t explain it, but it was as if a cloud lifted from his gaze and he, too, pulled in a clear breath. The seductive fog that had us engulfed in that moment of intensity dissipated.

  “Just so beautiful,” he finished with a tiny frown that hinted he was as disoriented by the feelings as I was.

  Air rushed into my lungs, and though the fog that lured me to him had faded, a part of me didn’t want him to leave. Like the silent siren song lulling me into his arms and into his bed had ended, but my inner turmoil had only deepened. Was this what having magik did? Was I the one causing it? No. Impossible. This wasn’t what I wanted. Okay maybe he was what I wanted, but not what I wanted most. Father used to say, you can’t always have what you want. Everything came with a cost. Sometimes that price was too high to pay.

  “I, uh, lost my head.” He cleared his throat. “You’re right... I shouldn’t have gone where I was not invited. It won’t happen again.”

  A part of my soul melted in that moment—the part I’d kept walled up behind a barrier of ice. The part I thought I’d never feel again, actually began to throb.

  He walked toward me, and I took a few steps back in defense. “So, this magik stuff. You've been dealing with this for some time, and you've never told anyone. Why?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Because I've grown accustomed to staying alive.” I shrugged stiffly. There was little point in denying it now. We were so far past that. “And actually, its all sort of new to me. No one else knows.” My gaze fell to the floor, as I shifted my weight.

  He nodded, licking his lips. “You will j
ust have to learn to trust me with your secrets, Kat. Trust that I will guard them with my life. As I would guard you with my life.”

  “Why?” I shuddered a breath. “We barely know one another.”

  “True. But there's something more between us. Isn’t there?” He moved closer. “You know it, too. You've felt it.”

  I shook my head, looking away.

  “Admit it, Kat.”

  “Doesn't matter what I felt, or what I think I felt. It’s all imaginary. Like the rest of it.”

  Ethan combed a hand through his hair, then sat down on the edge of my desk.

  “You blew up a book, disappeared and reappeared with someone else's blood on your shirt. I'd say that's pretty damn real,” he said. “So maybe, all the rest of it is, too.”

  I heaved a weighted sigh. “I, I don’t know what to do.”

  “I'll help you and we’ll figure this out.”

  I took over the chair I’d found him sitting in and lowered myself into it. “Before or after your mother has me executed?”

  He braced his hands on the edge of the desk. “These are not the medieval times. The crown doesn’t hold public executions.”

  “No, they're far more private these days.”

  He stood up, folding his arms. “What does that mean? You think my mother has people killed?”

  “I think, people who've crossed her have a way of disappearing and are never heard from again.”

  A look of anger touched his face. “Is that the going story? Where did you hear it… let me guess, TMZ?”

  “That's a fact. I've known some of these people, Ethan. If it’s true, and I'm not saying it is, but if it was, you would have no way of knowing. Would you?”

  He mulled that over, massaging his jaw thoughtfully.

  “No. I suppose not. My mother and I, well…my family and I lead very separate lives. I know she’s a monster, but what you’re suggesting—"

  “Is treason. I know,” I said biting down on my lip and wondering if I truly did have a death wish.

  “I was going to say, serious. But yeah, if we’re being honest. It’s that, too. So, from now on, there are certain things we keep locked solely between us, yes? Like the fact that you think my mother had people murdered.”

  I might have laughed had it not been so dire.

  “And,” he pushed away from the desk and moved toward me, “the fact that you possess magik.”

  I shuddered. At least he wasn’t completely closed off to the possibility. How could he be when I’d just single handedly dismantled his beliefs about the impossibility of its existence, right along with my own? Only to learn my grandmother must have possessed it all those years ago. She had to, because I couldn’t think of any other reason this would be happening to me. Did my mother know about this? That wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. Not until I learned more.

  “Maybe we should just pretend that none of this ever happened,” I said.

  Ethan was retreating toward the door, but he paused, his hand poised on the crystal knob. “This won’t happen again, Katriana. You have my word. I won’t let whatever this is,” he gestured between us, “go any further.” Then his gaze found mine as he added, “I know how much you dislike donuts.”

  I watched him leave, then flopped down on the bed and threw my arm over my eyes. Way to screw things up more than humanly possible. Day one and I’d already broken every Royal Rule. Worse yet, the Prince of freaking Britannia knew I had magik…and vowed to keep it from his family in some kind of messed-up, insane murder-suicide pack, that placed his life on the line as much as it did mine. Nicely done, Kat.

  If only this thing between us, whatever it was, wasn’t so bloody pervasive. But the way he’d looked at me. The way he’d touched me. The way my body had responded to his touch, as if he’d stroked me in the same places he’d stroked her… he’d felt it, too. None of it was in my head. It was all flesh and blood and bone real.

  We were sailing into dangerous waters, on a ship bound for disaster. And amid the quiet whispers of desire, I could hear the wailing warnings, scream loud and clear…

  Iceberg. Dead ahead.

  CHAPTER 11

  My first few days at Court passed by without further incident. Partly because Prince Ethan was away from Court for the week. Not having him around to distract me made it that much easier to lose myself in my tutoring with Princess Charlotte. We’d touched on basic math and had dove head first in her French lessons. She was a natural, like the rest of her family, picking up foreign tongues effortlessly. It was a long and unsettling week, and I was relieved to have finally made it to Friday without being fired or executed...or blowing anything up.

  Hannah was seldom at Court, so when she burst into my room at the cusp of dawn, it was well worth the minor heart attack she had given me.

  “What are you doing here?” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as she made herself comfortable on the bed next to me.

  “Got the morning off, thought we could have coffee together.”

  I glanced at the clock. Lessons with the princess didn’t start for another few hours yet. “Let’s make it an early breakfast.” I smiled.

  It was so comforting to see a familiar friendly face. I wanted to spill all the details of the past few days with her, but that only put her in the line of fire. An accessory after the fact, or something. I couldn’t do that to her, no matter how much I wanted to unburden myself.

  I dressed quickly, and we wandered down the less-used halls to get to the back exit. I was free to do what I wished with my spare time, more or less…but I very much wanted to avoid any run-ins with the prince.

  As we walked toward the common areas of the castle, I scanned Hannah from head to toe. She had on a skirt with a flirty flare, and a rather low-cut sweater.

  “I can’t believe that’s seriously what you're wearing to work, Hannah.”

  She looked down. “What? It's impactful.”

  “It's a little trashy. And borderline inappropriate.”

  “Don't be such a prude. I intentionally choose my outfits for business and a hint of pleasure. Totally within the regulations. Plus there’s a new girl who’s eye I’m trying to catch.”

  I had to try not to laugh. There was always a new guy or girl whose eye she was trying to catch. I loved how she brazenly saw everyone as a potential future ex. “Uh-huh. No way does that skirt,” I pointed, “meet the minimum hem length.”

  “Who's walking around with tape measures. It’s not the eighteen-hundreds.”

  “Good thing for you, because that outfit would be what loose women wore under their skimpy clothes.”

  “I’m not technically working at the moment, so could we stop talking about what I'm wearing and focus on what matters? No more donuts. Remember? That's our mission here.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Tina was paying the price of her downfall with hands covered in blisters, a layer of grease in her hair that wouldn’t wash out and a rep that wouldn’t wash out either.

  “No donuts.” I fist-bumped her. Then we quickly hid our hand behind our backs as two of the queen’s privy council members walked past. Rumors had a way of travelling within the palace. And while the penalty for gossiping was dire, I’d learned it didn’t stop everyone from a blood-chilling game of Russian Roulette with the queen's razor-sharp rules.

  I hooked my arm around hers as we walked. “So, what’s it like being Doctor Hannah, Medicine Woman to the royals?”

  “What do you think?” she snorted. “It’s a royal pain in the arse. So demanding, as if the king’s trick hip should just magically heal itself in two minutes flat because he commanded it to.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to say, look mate, I’m sorry, but healing doesn’t work like that.”

  I swallowed, wondering if, in fact, it just might. I had no idea how far and wide the scope of magik was…I’d only caught a glimpse of what it could do. What it could destroy.

  We rounded a corner, and, abruptly Hannah pulled back on my arm. She pushed me aga
inst the wall, as she peeked into the hall we’d retreated from.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Shhh.” She gestured for me to look.

  I peered around the edge at the door that was now partially opened.

  A curvy blonde with tousled hair and hastily assembled clothing walked out of the room. And behind her, Prince Ethan.

  My breath caught.

  I'd seen him with girls from every country imaginable, every skin tone, often multiples at the same time, in magazines and entertainment sites. But they all had the same thing in common... They were curvy, flawlessly made-up, gold diggers, who foolishly thought that flashing their cleavage would buy them a ticket into a life of royalty forever. It definitely didn’t work that way. Never had.

  The way this one had her crimson talons curled around his forearm, you’d have thought she'd already sealed the deal. No doubt the consummation part was well taken care of. It was the forever part that wouldn’t be happening. Because it wasn’t the prince she had to win over, it was his mother. And there was no way in hell Queen Zara was letting her precious firstborn get hitched to any of the smoky eyeshadowed, sexy-haired, bikini-wearing girls he liked to accessorize himself with. The revolving door of his bedroom was all they'd get to see of the Royal Court.

  Hannah and I remained hidden, watching it all play out. Just how many rooms did he use for his playdates, anyway?

  “Will I see you again?” the blonde purred. Like, actually purred.

  I didn’t hear the reply, but from the perplexed look on her face, I could guess.

  Bless her little heart.

  Then with folded arms, I watched her walk of shame as she retreated from his room. Dejected. Disillusioned. Discarded.

  “Cautionary tale, ladies. The prince can't be bought with sex. No matter how loud,” Hannah whispered.