Page 14 of Bared

“You know him?” he queried, genuinely curious.

Oz dropped a nod. “Had the honor of serving with him on a few interesting missions.” As he drew out the syllables on the last two words, more perplexity pressed Brick’s mind. “And then to visit Arcadia itself, which is where Jag and I got to know each other better. I also met the rest of the Cimarrons, including His Majesty Evrest.”

“Who’s not a king king, right?” Brick queried.

“Correct,” Oz supplied. “He’s a constitutional monarch, meaning he has no direct power, despite his sway with a lot of the people.”

The line seemed like Jagger Fox’s cue to clench his right-angle jaw again. “Just not all the people,” he murmured.

“Ah. Right,” Brick replied. “I’d heard about all that.”

Though that was the extent of what he could provide on the subject. Back on Whidbey Island, he never turned on the TV or used the internet beyond emails and digital book purchases. When going to the mainland a couple of times a week to check on the club and pick up groceries, he steered clear of any news except weather reports and local happenings.

Every once in a while, he’d stay overnight at Bastille for special parties and to catch up with the regular kinksters who’d become friends. But the gregarious front he showed to the rest of the world was just that. A convenient ruse for the mess of a human being he was on the inside.

Exactly the way he liked it to be.

Needed it to be.

Continuing to care about the world, even at the level of a tiny island kingdom with localized terror problems, wasn’t the excuse any of his triggers needed.

He’d found that out the hard way.

And was happy to put those memories aside when Oz took a turn to speak.

“Evrest hasn’t been the only Cimarron in the public eye,” his friend relayed. While the king father and queen mother, Ardent and Xaria, have remained largely private—”

“Sure,” Brick interjected. “The whole family’s involved in different aspects of things.” So he did know more than he thought he did. “There are two brothers. Samsyn oversees military and security. Shiraz is the money, logistics, and infrastructure guy.”

“And then there’s Jayd.”

“Jayd.” He ignored how Oz and Jagger smirked at his rasping repetition. To be honest, he didn’t really care. Not when he had something much better to focus on. The youngest Cimarron royal. “Ah…yeah. The princess. Didn’t remember her.”

Remarkably, he succeeded at a show of wry indifference.

“The hell you didn’t,” Oz snarked.

Or…not.

“Goddammit,” Brick groused.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Fox soothed. “The woman has that effect on most people.”

Brick didn’t argue. How could he? What man—for that matter, what person with a pulse—wouldn’t respond just like him to a simple thought of the woman? Those glossy black curls, tumbling against her regal, sleek cheeks. The eyes in that face, glowing like huge opals and framed by lush lashes. That was just everything above her shoulders. Brick remembered a lot about her lush, rocking curves too.

A lot about them.

He yanked himself out of the lust-weighted reverie by homing in on Fox’s comment. “Most people,” he noted. “But not you?”

The guy’s expression remained smooth and neutral. “Once upon a time, yes,” he replied. “Until I realized that princesses are not exactly my preference.”

Brick chuckled. “More the stablegirl type, hmm?”

“More like stableboy.”

Oz snorted. “Stableman.”

Fox hitched half a smirk. “Whatever you say, koala baby.”