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He barks out a laugh, the sound reverberating against the high ceilings and marble tile floor that probably cost more than I make in the entirety of my military career. “That’s rich, Creed. Do you really think anything here will ever change?”
“I—”
“It won’t. Nothing’s changed in the past hundred years. And nothing will change in the next hundred. It’s such bullshite.”
I hush him, but it’s useless, especially when he’s drunk. I’d like to say this is the first time he’s done something like this.
It’s not.
I’d like to say it’ll be the last time I’ll have to carry him into his apartment after he went on a bender.
It won’t be.
Humor may be one of his coping mechanisms. Alcohol is the other. It helps him not to feel like himself. If there’s one thing I know about Prince Gabriel Anderson Joseph Xavier Wellingston — Anderson for short — it’s that he often hates being who he is.
I drag him into his apartment, hesitating as my eyes fall on Esme’s door. I try not to think of the woman who lives within those four walls. Try not to imagine her sleeping peacefully in her bed.
Try not to wish I could be in that bed with her.
But it’s a lost cause.
I’ve always thought about Esme. Always longed to be in her bed.
Suddenly, her door flies open, and my gaze falls on Esme in a tank top and boy shorts, face devoid of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. It makes her look…normal. And so damn beautiful my heart aches.
Makes me want to crush my lips to hers, erasing every last trace of Jameson from her body.
And her mind.
“What’s happened?” She storms across the large space, looking from me to Anderson then back to me.
“Ezzy!” Anderson exclaims, a lazy smile crawling on his lips. “I was just telling Creed how bullshite this life is. He had the audacity to think that, when I’m king, I can actually change anything. That’s like suggesting inmates can change how they’re treated. Except most prisoners know why they’re locked up. Us…” He trails off. “We did nothing to deserve this except be born. And it’s fucked.”
“You’re drunk.” She approaches, lightly patting his cheek. “Let’s get you inside so you can sleep it off.” She pushes her way into his apartment, heading in the general direction of the bedroom. As she does, I catch a whiff of her fragrant scent, the lavender aroma like a natural aphrodisiac.
“I’m not drunk,” Anderson argues as I follow her down the hallway. “I’m telling the truth. This life sucks. I can’t even bring a girl home, Ezzy. Not without the powers that be wanting to run a full background check and have her sign an NDA so I can shag her. Do you understand how fucked that is?”
Reaching his bedroom, I carefully lower him onto his bed.
“That was a stupid question,” Anderson continues as Esme helps him out of his shoes and I grab a trash bin from the bathroom in case he needs to vomit. “Of course you know how fucked it is. They’re planning to marry you off to a man you don’t love.”
“Jameson isn’t that bad,” she protests, keeping her gaze averted. “He does a lot of volunteer work.”
“But do you actually want to be with him?”
Esme nervously glances at me before looking back at Anderson. “It doesn’t matter what I want.” Grabbing a blanket, she drapes it over his body.
“See. Fucked. We’re both bloody fucked.” He pulls the blanket up to his chin, curling onto his side, eyes closing. “Sometimes I wish I was never born.”
On a long sigh, she leans down to kiss his forehead. “But I’m glad you were. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. Just sleep it off, Anders. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Not likely.”
She stares at him for a beat, pulling her lips between her teeth. When she briefly looks to the ceiling, I catch a glint of moisture in her eyes. But she schools her frustration quickly, tousling Anderson’s hair.
“I love you.”
Leaving another kiss on his forehead, she turns, briefly catching my eyes before heading out of his bedroom.
