The Kalliakis Crown: Talos Claims His Virgin

‘If you marry, will it have to be someone of royal descent too?’ As she asked the question a strange clenching gripped her heart.

‘No.’

‘So if you marry it will be for love?’

His lips twisted into a mocking grin. ‘If I marry it will be because someone has placed a gun to my head.’

‘Marriage is a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Love was the state she’d always feared—not a commitment so easily broken it wasn’t worth the paper it was signed on. It was passionate love that made fools of people. A piece of paper could dissolve a marriage into nothing, but a severed heart never fully healed.

‘It means a lot if you’re a member of the Kalliakis royal family. Divorce is forbidden.’

That’s fine, she thought. I don’t want to marry you. All I want is to touch you. Everywhere.

That was why she would be safe from the threat of a severed heart. Her passion for Talos was purely physical. When she returned to Paris her heart wouldn’t feel a thing, would only skip at memories of being with him.

‘Is divorce forbidden for everyone on your island?’

‘Only members of the royal family,’ he murmured.

‘And are you allowed lovers? Before you marry?’ she added, dropping her voice even lower.

His eyes were a blaze of molten lava, his strong nose flaring, his jaw clenched. ‘If I want a lover no decree is going to stop me.’

Nothing and no one could stop this man doing anything he wanted.

The thought should appal her, but it didn’t—not when the thought of allowing him to do whatever he wanted was so strong she dug her nails into his neck to stop her fingers yanking at her dress so she could press her bare skin to him. Her desperation to feel him was matched only by her desperation for him to feel her.

A finger tapped her shoulder. It was the British Prince. ‘May I have the next dance?’

‘No,’ Talos growled, not looking at him, but tightening his hold on her back and his grip on her hand.

‘You can’t blame a chap for trying,’ the Prince said, laughing ruefully before striding off to find another dance partner.

Talos stopped dancing. The clenching of his jaw was even more pronounced. ‘I have an apartment here in the palace.’

She didn’t miss a beat or fake coyness. ‘Is it far?’

‘It’s closer than my villa or your cottage.’

A spark passed between them, so real and powerful she felt it in every atom of her being.

He brought her hand to his lips. ‘Follow me,’ he murmured.

CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_121e6665-b9c9-5852-a314-7a21771d0827)

HER HAND CLASPED tightly in his, Amalie followed Talos’s lead, weaving through the waltzing couples, yearning to run but keeping her pace steady, avoiding eye contact lest anyone wanted to talk.

She could see the door he was leading her to, in the left-hand corner of the great room. The closer they got, the longer his strides became, until they were nodding at the footmen posted there and then slipping out into a corridor she didn’t recognise. Judging by the strong scent of food, she figured they had to be close to the palace kitchens.

They took a left into another long corridor, then another and another. Staff were everywhere, all bowing as they passed.

It wasn’t until they reached a fifth corridor, this one dimly lit, that they were completely alone.

Talos had her pinned to the wall so quickly there was no chance to draw breath.

His hands clasped her cheeks and his mouth crashed onto hers with a passion her starving body responded to immediately. His tongue swept across her lips, forcing them to part, then darted into her mouth, his resulting groan stoking the heat consuming her.

She responded with fire, cradling his head, returning the kiss with all the hunger that burned inside her for him.

No sooner had it started than he broke the kiss, keeping her pinned to the wall with his strength, his thumbs running in swirls over her cheeks, his brown eyes dark with intensity.

‘I have never been closer to ripping a woman’s dress off and taking her in public than I was in that ballroom,’ he said roughly.

A pulse ran through her, deliciously powerful. In answer, she nuzzled into his hand and kissed his palm.

He stepped back, trailing his fingers down her neck to the edge of her dress, his breathing heavy. ‘We’re almost at my apartment.’

They set off again to the end of the corridor, walking at a speed only a tiny rate below a run, until they came to a spiralling marble staircase with a heavy rope barrier across the base of it. Talos moved it swiftly, indicating for her to go up. At the top was a small passage with a door at the end and a small security box by the side. He punched in the code and the door swung open.

Lights came on with the motion and Amalie found herself in an enormous masculine living space, richly furnished with plump charcoal-coloured sofas against a backdrop of muted blues and creams. The room’s walls were covered in huge colourful paintings.

There was no time for looking with depth. Talos threw his jacket, sash and bow tie on the floor and guided her through the living area and into a bedroom dominated by the largest bed she’d ever seen—an enormous sleigh bed with intricate carvings.

On the wall opposite the door stood a floor-length mirror, edged with the same intricately carved wood. Catching sight of her reflection, she came to a stop.

Was that woman staring back at her with the flushed cheeks and wild eyes really her? Amalie? The woman who had formed a cosy life for herself while shying away from everything this man—this gorgeous man—was offering her? The man staring at her with a hunger she had only ever seen in films.

Transfixed, she watched as he stepped behind her, not touching her other than to place his hands on the tops of her arms. A small moan escaped her throat when he dropped a kiss in the arch of her neck.

Swaying lightly, she let her eyes flutter closed and sighed as his fingers swept across her shoulder blades and down her spine to rest at the top her dress.

Bending his head to kiss her ear and brush his lips lightly against her temple, he found and unfastened the hidden hook, then pinched the concealed zipper and slowly pulled it down, all the way to the base of her spine. His hands slid back up the exposed flesh to the top of the dress, then skimmed it assuredly down to her hips, exposing her bare breasts. When he released his hold on it the dress fell in a lazy whoosh to her feet, leaving her naked bar skimpy black knickers and gold shoes.

He wrapped an arm around her middle and held her against him, so she could lift her feet one at a time and step out of the vast amount of material. Talos kicked the dress away, then met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, a dangerous, lustful glimmer in his stare.

Her chest thrust forward, almost begging for his touch.

The hand holding her so protectively brushed over her stomach and up her side, circling round her breasts to trace along her collarbone and up her neck to the base of her head. Slowly he worked at the elegant knot of her hair until he freed it, gently pulling it down to sprawl across her shoulders.

‘Have you had many lovers, little songbird?’ he asked, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Speech had deserted her; all she was capable of doing was shaking her head.

‘Have you had any lovers?’

The second shake of her head had more force behind it, but inside she reeled.