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Here we go.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though not sorry. “Who shoved whom first?”
“Who was running his mouth?” Sig spits back.
“Boys!” Flora shouts, cutting across the bickering. “Let’s focus on the fact that we still don’t know the identity of the stranger who caught me and broke my fall. And why isn’t the palace making any effort to find that man? He deserves recognition. Land, titles, cash—something!”
No one can argue with that. If I meet that man, I’ll hand over my birthright, as anemic as it may be, as the first of three spares.
Sig and I exchange a guilty look, each of us deciding at that same moment to let it go. This is as close as we may ever get to apologizing to each other.
I angle myself to peer out of the car's front windshield, past my brother’s giant head. Uther, the new chief of security, drives ahead of us. Looking through the rear window, I see more black cars, one of them a large, unfamiliar SUV.
“Who’s behind us?” I ask.
“Sable and her people.”
I stare at my sister, fully sober now. “You called in the cavalry to dress the hillbilly? God, you’re so extra sometimes.”
Eyes wide, Flora nudges my knee with hers. “Happy family, remember? Happy, well-behaved children make a happy king.”
If I know my father, there won’t be any such thing as a happy king.
Not today. Not a chance.
2
Kala
One heavy, masculine arm hugs my bare waist, cinching me tight and covering my back with a wall-like chest.
An erection burrows its way into the gap between my upper thighs. That needy length is hot, firm, and exciting.
Pale dawn coaxes me awake. My face warms in anticipation, and I smile to myself.
What a dream it is to wake up in my lover's arms in the morning.
“What have we here, big boy?” I murmur.
Sheets rustle. The bed creaks. My lover snakes his other arm under me, cupping my breast.
I sigh, my fingernails tracing a lazy path over the sinews and ridges of his muscled forearm. No matter how hard I try to hold back, I cannot go slow. Before long, I’m reaching back to caress his bed-mussed hair, his scruff, and those perfect cheekbones.
I can’t see his face, but his gaze heats the skin of my neck. The sensuous pull of his full lips around my fingertips makes my tiny, fuck-me muscles clench. I need him to do me hard and fast. But he likes to take his time.
Gods, he never just fucks me. He builds me up bit by bit, then ruins me, leaving me ravaged and spent.
I gasp as his teeth lightly graze; he knows exactly how to get me wet.
That wicked mouth. That expert tongue. Those sinfully full lips. This whole man is about to wreck me. The knowledge of it makes me quiver.
The hand at my waist dips low, cupping my pussy, as if letting me know he’s about to test my wetness. He knows. This man knows me. He knows how soaking wet I get whenever he plays with me like this.
His husky groan vibrates through my body as his fingers dive between my lower lips and deftly find my clit. He slides two fingers around that hard button, stroking evenly.
“Darling, I knew you’d be ready for me,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice giving away the raw hunger.
My muscles flutter against his fingers, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle.
