As soon as I walked back around front to wait at her door, I saw her walking through the garden. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the moonlight to guide her path. The closer she got, the more I noticed her long blonde hair was a mess and her neck and cheeks flushed with heat. She looked like hell. Like she’d been fucked hard and put up wet. I hated how much it bothered me. Part of my soul, the dark, sadistic, and hungry part, wanted to pin her against this door and fill her so full there wouldn’t be room for anyone else.
One night. I only needed one night with her. No expectations, just mutual gratification. Then she could do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted. Everything would go back to normal. That’s a lie. You didn’t get to sell your soul to the devil and walk away without any scars.
“Is this how it’s going to be now?” I asked her when she spotted me.
“Is this how what’s going to be, Your Highness?”
She curtsied, and it had my blood boiling and my dick perking up all at the same time.
“Oh, so we’re back to that?” I didn’t hide the amusement in my voice.
She planted her hand on her hip and smirked. “Unless you’ve stopped being the prince at some point…”
The feistier she got, the more I wanted to fuck her smart mouth.
“No. I’m still the prince.” For now. I straightened my posture and kept my tone cold and unwavering.
At six foot three, I towered over her. Katie was small but not petite. If I had to guess, I’d say she was five foot six with legs that any man would kill to have thrown over his shoulders. She was thin, but still curvy in all the right places. The moonlight made shadows dance across her face.
She was the centerfold kind of perfect that teenage boys jacked off to under their sheets after dark. What was I talking about? I’d already nearly rubbed blisters on my dick because of this woman, and I was far past my teenage years.
I trailed my fingertip along the outline of her chin. “Are you going to run to him every time I make you wet?” I needed to stop touching her like this, but I liked it too fucking much.
She almost leaned into my touch but stopped herself, as though she suddenly remembered she wasn’t supposed to want this.
It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not supposed to want it either.
She didn’t answer. It wasn’t a confirmation or a denial, and it suddenly dawned on me that her silence was her protection. Katie didn’t lie. She wasn’t wired that way. If she were, she would have denied that shit like a priest caught with a choir boy. She hated me too much. She’d rather eat nails than admit that she wanted me naked. So, she kept silent to avoid the lie. It was a rare gift, and I admired the hell out of it. Unlike her father, the King of Lies, Katie hated dishonesty. I didn’t know why I hadn’t seen that before now.
“May I go inside, Your Highness?” Her voice was calm, quiet, close to a whisper.
Her refusal to answer was my answer. I had made her wet… and she had run to him. It was probably better that way. I wasn’t the nice guy in this scenario. She wasn’t Cinderella, and this wasn’t a fairy tale. My eyes caught hers, and for the first time ever, I saw the vulnerability in them, the concession, her white flag. An unsettling awareness gripped my gut, as though she’d just cut me open and crawled inside. I stepped away from the door.
“Thank you,” she said as she punched in her security code. The soft light from her living room lamp poured into the entryway where we stood. She turned to face me before going inside. “And to answer your question… No.”
“No?”
“No. I won’t be running to Keaton. Not anymore.”
Not, “No. You didn’t make me wet.”
Then she closed the door, leaving me alone in the darkness and once again wondering what the fuck just happened.
The days all ran together lately. Between my dad living on borrowed time, my impending ascension to the throne, and whatever the fuck was going on between me and Katie, I hadn’t slept worth a shit in over a week. It was beginning to take its toll on my body, not to mention my mind.
“Hey, Dad.” I took my father’s hand in mine. “You really threw one on me this time,” I said with a chuckle even though I felt anything other than humor in the situation. “This is worse than when you let me sit in on that meeting with Parliament then put me on the spot when they asked about your military decisions.” My thumb skimmed the raised veins in his cold hand. He was always cold now. The strong, intimidating man I’d spent my whole life looking up to was growing weaker and more fragile by the day. He could hardly walk without becoming short of breath. How was he supposed to stand and rule a nation?
He wasn’t. That was my job now. Soon, everyone would know it.
“I need more time. I’m not ready. I don’t think I can do this.” He couldn’t hear me. He had safely escaped into one of his morphine naps.
His eyes opened slowly, like they were made of lead and it took all his strength just to look at me. He blinked a few times before speaking. “Sutton.”
“You’re awake.” It was both a realization and a question. He did hear me.
He squeezed my hand. “I know you’re worried.” He took in a weak breath. “But you’re going to be a good king.” Another breath. “Your entire life has been spent building up to this moment.” He took a minute to steady his breathing. “I should know.” His gaze lifted to meet mine. My heart broke at the pain I saw there. “I’m the one who stole your childhood to make sure of it.”
“Dad, don’t. We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes, I do. I owe you an apology.”
I gave him a smile. “Royals don’t apologize.”
He smiled back. It was weak, but its warmth reflected in his eyes. “Maybe we should start.” He squeezed my hand again. “I spent so much time making sure you’d be a good king that I forgot how to be a good father.”
His words ripped open wounds I’d carried with me for years, wounds that no one other than me ever knew existed. I had perfected the art of burying them beneath layers of confidence and indifference. The Phillipe Thorne I knew had no regrets. He made no apologies. He was the law and the only one he answered to was God Himself. I’d waited my whole life for this man to show up, for my father to act like… a father. Why now? Why take off the mask right before the curtain was about to fall? It only made things worse.
“You were a good father,” I replied because I wasn’t about to break a dying man’s heart by telling him I wished he’d loved me more.
He tried to laugh but only ended up throwing himself into a coughing fit. I grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and gave him a drink.
“I was a good king. You will be both.” He reached up and cupped my cheek. “When that day comes, promise me something. Promise me you’ll take your son deep sea fishing. That you’ll teach him how to sail. Fly over the Mediterranean Sea in a helicopter and show him all the land he’ll one day rule. Do all things I should’ve done with you.”
I closed my eyes and silently mourned a life that never was, a life where Dad was just a dad, and I was just a son. “I promise.” I won’t let my children turn out like me. “I wish we had more time,” I said.