Page 91 of Kneel Before Me

Daphne took a long time to answer. Too long. So long that Maximus began to sweat beneath her gaze, wondering if she was truly going to humiliate him before the entire village. Just as he was losing hope, she said, “I suppose you’d better.”

It wasn’t much. But it was enough for him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Maximus leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft, just as he’d expected them to be. And warm. She tasted like salt water and secrets, and he pulled her body against his, wrapping one arm around her back and slipping his other hand into her curls.

It was slow at first—hesitant and halting. Then she began to kiss him back. There was no doubt about it; Maximus felt her tongue enter his mouth and he nearly came in his trousers right then and there. He angled his head, giving her his tongue in return, tasting every inch of her that he possibly could. He knew their time was limited; he knew she could end this at any moment. Daphne made him feel the one way none of the other girls did: desperate. Maximus knew that whatever happened, he wouldn’t be the first to pull away. He would do this for exactly as long as she allowed it, kissing her for every single second that he possibly could.

They’d been kissing far longer than he’d kissed anyone else. Surely, his father would notice. Maximus didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except for Daphne. Her body molded to his. Maximus could feel the depth of her curves even through her coat, grasping at any part of her he could hold on to. It was entirely indecent. And it did not matter. He could feel her breasts against his chest, and unlike when he’d been in the same position with Veronica, now he pulled her closer. Daphne did not push him away. He clutched her body against his so tightly it was sure to cause her pain. In response, she bit his bottom lip. Maximus groaned, his cock straining against his trousers. Daphne was pressed against it. He hoped she could feel it.

Behind them, someone cried out.

Maximus didn’t know or care who it was—Daphne Verus was in his arms, kissing him back. He could do this forever. He would do this forever, if she allowed him to.

The crowd was making noise.

Were they cheering? Maximus found that odd. He was quite sure they didn’t approve of Daphne. At least, not as much as they approved of Constance. The crowd had been deafening for her, yet somehow they were deafening again now.

Before he wanted her to, Daphne pulled away. Maximus stared into her eyes, but instead of staring back, she was turning around—turning to look at something in the crowd. Maximus followed her gaze, finally registering the noise around them. The crowd was not screaming in favor of Daphne. They were screaming at her.

One simple word, one devastating syllable: “SLUT.”

The chant originated from a group of guys. They slapped their hands on the edge of the stage in rhythm with their taunt, prompting the rest of the villagers to join in. Tears filled Daphne’s eyes. Maximus shielded her with his body, prepared to administer punishment. Before he could do so, there was a hand on his arm.

“Come with me.”

It was his father. Maximus did not move.

“Daphne,” he said, looking only at her. “I—”

“I said come with me.”

The grip on his arm became painful. His father was literally tearing them apart. Maximus threw his arm around Daphne’s waist, pulling her against him. Not to kiss her—the moment for that had clearly passed—but to press his lips to her ear and say, “I must go. Promise me you’ll get home safe. Please.”

The last thing Maximus wanted to do was abandon her. But he knew his father well enough to know that if he did not obey, the consequences would fall on Daphne. The villagers’ reaction to her only corroborated what he’d said from the beginning: Constance was the better choice. If Maximus wasn’t careful, Augustus might even use this as an excuse to eliminate Daphne from the competition. At this point, nothing was off the table.

Daphne nodded. Then his father yanked him away.

It wasn’t until they were back in the carriage that Augustus spoke. “Now do you understand, Son? Your own people disapprove.”

“They’re not the ones marrying her.”

Augustus shot him a glare. “And neither are you.”

Maximus did not dignify that with a response. He was still picturing the tears in Daphne’s eyes, the shame she so clearly wished to hide.

“If you do not end things with her, the villagers might rebel.”

“They have no reason to do that.”

“Of course they do. They will not accept her as their queen.”

“They’re not the ones marrying her.”

“That is irrelevant,” his father snapped. “We are in charge. It is our job to lead them, and if we do not do so properly, they will resent us for it.”

Maximus stared out the window. There hadn’t been a rebellious act in the village in years. His father was just using this as an excuse to disparage Daphne.

“I don’t believe they will do such a thing,” he said.

His father shrugged. “Who knows what those people will do.”