A Royal World Apart

He paused for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. It doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”

More puzzles. He was a complex man. Hard on the surface, letting things glance off without even feeling them. He had erected a barrier between himself and the world, that much was obvious. He was able to talk to her, joke even and yet, it felt as though he was barely giving any of himself in the process. Makhail, who he really was, was hidden behind that thick stone barrier he’d erected. She had a feeling if she could ever get a look behind it, she would find a darkness that would consume her.

Because she could feel it. Could see it sometimes, in his eyes. As frightening as his surface image was, all of that hard muscle displayed to its best advantage by military-grade posture, it was the man beneath that scared her most.

And intrigued her. Made her breath grow short and her stomach get tight. Which was actually scarier than Mak himself.

“Then, if you can imagine it, why can’t you try and understand instead of simply assuming I’m a spoiled brat?”

“Because it’s not my job to do anything that goes beyond your protection.”

“But … you can protect me without holding me prisoner. You can …”

“I don’t work for you, Eva. That means it’s very likely your suggestions are wasted.”

Her stomach tightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I bothered. You aren’t any different from anyone else. From my father.”

She turned and he caught her arm, his touch sending a blaze of heat through her, her skin on fire where his fingers met her flesh. “And that means?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, determined to keep her composure. Determined to stay strong. “You only care about yourself, and you can use me to further your own end. For my father, it’s about Kyonos. For you, it’s about the job. I’m a person, Mak. And I am sick to death of people forgetting that. Who has to go around reminding people that they aren’t a thing?” Her voice broke and she was horrified by the weakness. She didn’t show weakness. It accomplished nothing. It earned her even less respect than she already got. She cleared her throat. “That’s why your guilt trips don’t work. That’s why I can’t feel bad for wanting more.”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked away as quickly as she could, willing the tears that were forming in her eyes not to fall. She didn’t cry. Ever. She wouldn’t start now.

It was late when Eva decided to try and make her escape. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care. But there was no way she was allowing Mak to think that he had all the power here, not even close.

She was a princess, and that ought to mean something. Shouldn’t she have some sort of power? Some sort of say in any part of her life?

She tightened the belt on her black trench coat and opened the door to her chambers, her heart pounding. She didn’t usually sneak out of the palace. Usually, she conned her guard into taking her somewhere and sneaked off from there. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, her high heels dangling from her fingertips as she walked down the hall. The marble floor was cold on her feet, but it was preferable to announcing her presence with the click of her heels.

It was dark, and even though it was rare there wasn’t some form of activity happening in the castle, everything was quiet in her wing. She could only hope that there wasn’t anyone loitering in the halls.

She rounded the corner and hit a hot, solid barrier. A hand over her mouth cut off her sharp shriek, strong arms turning her sharply, putting her back to the wall. Her eyes clashed with Mak’s, dark and glittering in the dim hall. She breathed in deeply, her breasts brushing against his hard chest.

Anger, excitement, desire, swirled around inside her. She tried to grab onto anger and hold it steady, keep it at the forefront.

She narrowed her eyes and he lowered his hand.

“I didn’t want you waking the whole castle,” he said, his expression deadly.

“So, you accosted me?” She refused to be intimidated. Refused to let him hear the tremor in her voice. A tremor caused by his nearness, and not so much the scare she’d just had.

“You were sneaking out.”

“How did you know?” she asked, fully aware that she sounded petulant and childish and not really caring at all.

“I have an alarm on your door. Silent, of course.” One side of his mouth lifted into a grim sort of self-satisfied smile. “Surprise.”

“Bastard.”

He released his hold on her. “It’s entirely possible. Likely, in fact.”

“I didn’t mean in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her hand over her arm, where his hand had burned her through the fabric of her jacket. “Of having unmarried parents, I mean. I meant it to mean more that you’re a jerk.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you’re probably correct. Where were you going?”

“To a drink-fuelled party,” she said tightly.

His lips curved into what might have been a smile. “I don’t even almost believe that. Where were you going?”

She looked away from him. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“In the middle of the night. By yourself.” His tone was even, but hard. The control injected into each word more unsettling than if he’d been shouting. “You might not be under any current threat, but it seems as though you want to tempt someone to try something.”

“No. That’s not it. I …”

“What is it, Eva? You’re stubborn for the sake of it?”

“Hardly. I wanted to go out. I’m an adult, it seems like I ought to have the freedom to—”

“Oh yes, you think you’re an adult because you’ve reached a certain age, and yet you don’t show that you’re capable of making intelligent decisions.”

“I see, were you required to pass some sort of test demonstrating competence before you made a decision in your adult life?”

He moved closer to her and she stepped back, hitting the wall again. He was so close she could smell him, a faint hint of soap and skin. Musky and enticing. It felt dangerous to be so close to him, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I’ve been making my own decisions since I was thirteen,” he said, his breath fanning over her cheek. “And since then I’ve made good decisions and I have made very, very bad decisions. So trust me, I recognize both kinds when I see them, and I have only seen the bad kind from you.”

She swallowed, ignoring the sudden impulse she felt to draw closer to him. Maybe that’s why it felt so dangerous to be near him. Because controlling herself seemed harder. Because her body didn’t quite seem as though it belong to her anymore. “Bad or good, you were still allowed to make the decisions.”

“And there are some I would take back tonight if I were able to. You don’t ever want to be in that position. Trust me.”

She wanted to touch him. To put her hand on his face. To feel the sculpted muscles that she knew lay beneath his crisp dark suit. She curled her hands into fists and pinned them against the wall, forcing herself to deny the impulse.

He looked at her for a moment, the air between them too thick for her to breathe in. Then he turned away, putting his broad back to her.

“Go back to bed,” he said.

“You’re just … leaving?”

He turned back to her. “Do you need me to come and hold your hand? Tuck you in?”

Her heart slammed into her breastbone. “No.”

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

She just stood and watched him walk away. And tried not to wonder why she wished he would come back.