9. Miri
9
Miri
TWO YEARS LATER
T ime slipped through my fingers quicker than ash. When I left Carter at the party, I told myself it wouldn’t be long before we saw each other again. I told myself I would visit as often as I could and call whenever the opportunity struck. Like my promises to Lex and Ivy, that too floated away on the wind.
We sent the occasional text and called at important milestones, but Carter’s filming schedule had ramped up after his premiere on Fractured Crowns and now? Who knew where he was? Australia one day, Czech Republic the next.
It hurt to think about them, to talk about them. I didn’t have much to say these days anyway.
Ivy and Lex crowded the headlines. The paparazzi loved their relationship, and when they announced their inevitable engagement, my heart turned to stone and died. I hadn’t talked to either since I left Virginia, but every part of me remembered every part of them. I brushed my thumb over the scars on my other hand, vows we had made to each other all those years ago. Vows they also carried. Vows they’d broken the minute we were separated.
Part of me wanted to be angry at them. Part of me wondered if they’d done us a favor. Perhaps it was better to rip off the bandage, quick and clean.
“Miriam?” my grandmother’s voice brought me back to the present, where I sat at tea with the Prince of Monaco, a man twenty years my senior who had been barking up my skirts since I turned fourteen. (Gross, I know.) “Reginald asked if you had any plans to turn your skills into something more substantial. An exhibit garden, perhaps?”
I forced a smile and took a sip of my Earl Grey, but it tasted rancid despite the cream and sugar. “Yes. Well, my nonprofit aids in building sustainable infrastructure for regenerative horticulture.”
When I’d come home from LA, I’d been obliged to join the royal family and take up my noble cause to give back to the society that sustained me. My grandparents had wanted to turn my image around, make me more palatable to the general public. In an effort to take up the mantle as my father’s daughter, I’d dedicated myself to something I loved, and saving the environment became my number one priority. I’d joined forces with Danae Enterprises and accepted a position as their royal ambassador. Together, we hoped to push political agendas in a more environmentally favorable direction, which was where I stepped in.
I’d been schmoozing rich wankers like the Prince of Monaco out of their assets since I could talk. But I did love to garden, and given my particular ability, I made lots of things grow where they never had before.
“But after I save the planet?” I gave a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to be charming. “Maybe a garden or two would suffice.”
Reginald laughed in a dark chuckle. He seemed like a nice man, someone who would allow me to sleep around provided he could do the same. We’d have to have children, of course. That would be required. But I could close my eyes and think of England a few times a year. Hundreds of my grandmothers had done it before.
I took another leisurely sip of tea and wished there was whiskey in it. Or arsenic. Anything would be better than this.
“Well, you should see the rose gardens in Monaco. They are beautiful in late spring,” he said.
“The prince has dedicated several to members of the family,” my grandmother added, like I was supposed to be impressed. All this talk about plants and gardens only reminded me of the sowing I had to do at Aberdeen. I hadn’t been in a few weeks, and though I paid people to tend to it in my absence, I preferred to work the earth myself, to feel the dirt between my fingers. It brought me so much solace in this chaotic world.
As if putting a cherry on top of that thought, Reginald said, “Shall we talk bride-price?”
I nearly spit out my tea through my nose.
Later, after I’d promised a trip to Monaco in exchange for a generous contribution to Danae’s cause, I wandered the halls at Kensington, reminiscing about the first time I met Lex. I’d led him through this very corridor to the secret stairway, taking him outside so we could get stoned and gossip about the high holy patriarchs and their high holy plans.
Ages had passed between now and then.
I loved him the same.
I still loved all of them the same.
I’d become a ghost here, haunting this ancient castle as relics of my foremothers hung on the walls to remind me I was the latest in a long line of women who’d been auctioned off to the highest bidder. I had hoped the world would have changed after all these years, and maybe it had for every other person. But for me, someone burdened with thousands of years of history on my crown, it was more of the same.
I couldn’t have who I wanted. I never could. So why did it matter who I married in the end? Be it the prince of Monaco or some other old man with a fortune. I was nothing more to my family than a face and a name to be traded.
I’d tried to take lovers in the time since I’d left Carter, but I couldn’t get into it with anyone else. I revolted at the touch of someone else’s kiss. My lover would trail their fingers down my stomach, and I’d grab the hand to stop it. Nothing about any encounter made me want the way I’d wanted with them. It was like tasting the best chocolate in the world and then being forced to live with cheap petrol-station sweets for the rest of your life.
Fine . I’d marry the prince of Monaco. I’d spit out his children because they’d be my children, too. At the end of the day, family was all I really wanted—someone to call my own.
My vows came back to me from Midsummer, as they often did when I gave way to despondency and broodiness.
“I’ll love you, all of you. I’ll honor you and respect you. I’ll never betray you. I’ll never hold you back from your dreams or each other. I’ll be honest with all of you. From today. Until the end.”
When I’d made that promise, I didn’t realize how far away the end would feel when I was slogging through the middle.
Working for Danae was more than appearances. Yes, it had started because I needed a grand cause to support, but going in to see the staff a few days a week gave me purpose, something to look forward to. It was the only time Gran let me out of the castle unsupervised and unscheduled.
It wasn’t much, and if it were up to me, I’d work full-time. But being HRH Princess Miriam Stuart, duchess of Aberdeen, didn’t afford me the luxury of being normal. Between my grandmother loaning me out to her royal friends and the agenda Sandra thrust on me the minute I returned home, I barely had time to breathe, let alone hold down a full-time job outside of public service.
But if I could…If I’d been born any other person in any other household…I’d rule Danae Enterprises with an iron fist. I wouldn’t stop until I squashed the bleeders destroying this planet. I wouldn’t stop until I’d healed every last piece.
The scars on my hand itched, and I absently rubbed at them with the thumb on my opposite hand. Just when I’d decided to take the stairs toward my apartment, a wave of lust hit me in the gut so hard, I nearly toppled over. I held on to the metal railing to keep myself upright and gripped at my lower abdomen, clenching my thighs around a cunt that throbbed and demanded attention. It had come out of nowhere, like I’d swallowed a handful of arousal pills with no chaser. My blood thrummed through my veins, making me run hot and sticky.
It felt like…It felt like…
No. It’s not possible.
It had been two years since Midsummer, and I’d been trapped in this palatial prison for weeks now. The only person who prepared my food also did so for the king and queen of England.
This can’t be happening. This…can not…be happening.
Yet, another round of arousal assaulted me, forcing me to clench my eyes closed and squeeze my legs together, exactly like it had that day in Ireland when we were out in the woods or three days later when it took us in the dorm room. Now, it slammed me behind the legs and I fell to my knees on the staircase.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I had my hands down my pants and my fingers rubbing my clit in seconds. I prayed that no one walked in on me like that. How could I explain it? Me in agony. My vulva so puffy and swollen, I might squirt from a gust of wind, unable to stop myself from seeking release.
They used to commit royal women who had mental breakdowns as recently as the ’70s.
What would they do with me?
I couldn’t focus on that. I could only work myself over as waves of euphoria pumped through my blood, making me sweat and convulse with each agonizing pulse.
Somewhere in my molecules, a release came…but it wasn’t from me. My soul responded to another’s climax…the cold waves of an icy deluge shooting down my spine.
Lex .
Sparks of fire came next, amping up my own impending explosion. Ivy.
A few minutes later, the warm burst of dying autumn echoed in my veins, tasting like Carter’s delicate skin. It was him, his orgasm, his culmination.
Anticipation of my orgasm amplified the ethereal experience of three people on the opposite side of the world being so intimately connected to me. If they were in person, I’d think they were waiting on me to complete the orgasm cluster. The exquisite magic of being tethered to them again, of knowing their energy inside me the way I knew my dear plants, it broke me. I came hard, in loud panting gasps that ricocheted up the narrow stairwell, my nerves fried, my muscles tensing so tightly, I feared they’d rip apart. I clung to the railing, one arm slung over it, my knees protesting the hard metal steps. I saw stars behind my eyes.
Thankfully finding myself still alone when I was done, I struggled to my feet, smoothed my hands over my hair, and continued to my rooms on the top floor. The last time this had happened, the sensation had gone away once we all climaxed together. We’d given it what it wanted; now it would cease. But once I was there, safely behind a locking barrier, it hit me again—the rush, the passion, the wave of uncontrollable whatever it was.
Damn it all to hell.
I went for my Hitachi this time, but when I climaxed again and the rush only escalated, I knew I was screwed—royally and utterly screwed.
There was only one way to end this, and that meant I had to get out of this prison and on a plane to DC as quickly as possible.
* * *
Escaping proved to be more challenging than I’d initially anticipated. I didn’t know where they lived, nor did I have their phone numbers. Even if I did, I’d been blocked for years. They didn’t want to speak with me, but given the circumstances, they had to relent. I couldn’t see how they wouldn’t.
One of my cousins had been a computer genius their whole life. I didn’t relish the thought of stalking my former lovers, but at this point, I was out of options.
“Why didn’t you come to me first?” my cousin said.
“Because I didn’t want it getting back to Grandmother.”
He balked and laughed. “Look, I can’t get you much, but I have an address. Evelyn Washington bought a three-story row home for them a few weeks ago. They’re in Georgetown.”
“Thank you,” I said, hanging up.
I tried Carter again, but he still didn’t answer. His odd filming hours had made it damn near impossible to reach him. When I’d talked to him a month ago, he’d been in the Czech Republic. He could be anywhere by now.
A wave of lust hit me hard between the legs, and I nearly toppled over, texting him Ivy and Lex’s address before packing the rest of my things into my suitcase.
Now began the tedious task of getting out of the castle. Gran had paid off all the guards to keep me here, and if any of them saw me attempting to leave, they were on strict orders to detain me.
Still, I’d been sneaking out of this place since I was a teenager, and all I had to do was wait for the change in shift by the door. My most loyal guard and driver had already brought the car around. By the time I’d made it down the hallway and stairwell to the first floor, Sandra had caught up to me.
“Where are you going?” Her voice boomed over the click-clack of her kitten heels.
“Damn it.” I kept going, hoping I’d get to the car before she caught up.
“Your Highness!”
“I’m leaving, Sandra,” I called. “It’s non-negotiable.”
“You have engagements.” She chased after me. “You can’t leave.”
“Cancel them,” I said, lugging one of my suitcases over to where Frederick grabbed it from me and hauled it into the trunk. “This is an emergency.”
“What emergency?” Sandra’s wide eyes hinted at her panic.
“It’s a friend.” I grimaced against the rush that went through me. “They’re sick. Real sick.” I was sick, too, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Miriam,” she said. My gaze snapped to hers at the use of my formal name. She corrected herself. “Your Highness, please.”
“My grandmother’s going to be upset,” I said. “And I apologize for that. But this is really an emer?—”
“Emergency, yes, you’ve said that. But if it’s not a direct family member, I can’t authorize?—”
“Authorize?” This time, I cut her off. “I’m twenty-four years old. I don’t need you to authorize anything.”
Which was technically true, but the rules of the general populace did not apply to those with HRH in front of their name. I barely gotten in the limo and slammed the door in her bird face before the wave became too overbearing to stand. I put up the partition, cranked the music, and worked myself to another agonizing climax.
At this point, my pussy hurt to touch and my wrist ached from bringing myself there time and time again. What choice did I have? This wouldn’t be over until we were together, and like it or not, I had to get to them.
Everything in me urged my compliance. It was a compulsion like none other I’d ever known, like magnets seeking out their counterparts, pulled together despite gravity and the space between. The flight nearly killed me, and when my driver got stuck in traffic on I-495, I clenched my legs together and took deep inhales, focusing on anything but the pain and agony of lust.
The scars on my hand burned like they’d been made yesterday.
Every jolting stop…start…stop…start…sent my blood pressure higher.
Be calm. Almost there.
When the limo finally pulled up in front of the townhouse, it only then occurred to me that I had no idea if they were home or if they’d want to see me. They had a bodyguard posting sentry out in front of their house, and a few people with cameras hung out on either side, already focused on my limo, waiting to see who would get out of it.
“Drive around back,” I told my escort, and he circled the block while I debated what to do. It had been years since I’d talked to either of them, so long that this seemed idiotic. My heart beat wildly in my chest and my hands shook, sweat beading on my forehead.
I should have had no reason to be nervous. It was them , after all. Ivy and Lex. The two people I’d loved the longest in my life. I should have figured out a way to contact them before now. But no, I’d blindly flown over here assuming they’d see me.
They couldn’t refuse me…right? Oh, God. What if I came all this way for nothing? What if I was the only one experiencing this? What if I was all alone in my misery and had been all this time?
My driver stopped in front of the garage behind their townhome, and I got out, quickly darting through the backyard to the door. A bodyguard held up his hands to stop me.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “That’s close enough.”
“It’s okay,” came the sultry voice from the back door. “She’s an old friend.”
I met Lex’s hazel gaze and every feeling I’d ever had for him rushed to the center of my chest like a shock wave, like the first time again.
My prince of darkness.
His hair had gotten longer and his body had filled out with muscle, but his eyes were as piercing and intimidating as I remembered. The cheekbones were more defined, accenting the angles in his face. He looked at me like I was fresh air, and he’d been suffocating for decades. None of it had dulled since I’d last seen him. He wore gray sweatpants and nothing else, his tattooed body red and flushed from the last twelve hours of what we’d been through.
I did my best to slowly ascend the stairs to their back door, minding my manners, while he said, “We’re expecting another person, Carter Scott. If he happens to show up, no need to stop him. Let him through.”
I took two steps inside, Lex shut the door behind me, and I jumped into his arms.
I didn’t care about the two years between us. I didn’t care that he’d gotten engaged to my former best friend weeks ago or that he’d broken up with me via text.
I needed to have his body pressed against mine. I needed his depravity and perverse gentleness, just like he’d used to give it to me. I just needed him .
Our lips collided, and I tasted sex and cigarettes and weed, a familiar cocktail for my deviant prince. The magic inside me, whatever it was that tortured us with this madness, vibrated at the slide of his skin against mine again.
His tongue explored my mouth and his hands, strong and familiar, went to my backside, squeezing me tighter to him, rubbing my cunt up against his cock, which had been hard since he saw me.
Footsteps to my right brought me back to my senses, and I dropped my legs as I broke the kiss to look in that direction. I felt her before I saw her, hot and vibrant in my molecules, like summer had been personified in real life.
Ivy.
“Miri?” Her breathless whisper coated my skin in adoration, and I ran to her, throwing myself in her arms the same way I had with Lex. My skirt flew up to my hips and my heels clinked together at her back as she caught me. Together, we laughed and we cried and we kissed.
God, we kissed.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I held her face in my hands and devoured her soft, delectable mouth in front of her fiancé. It must have pained him to watch, just as it pained me to taste him on her lips. Of course, they had taken advantage of each other while they waited. I would have done the same, but a sharp stab of jealousy zigzagged down to my gut anyway. I wanted to be here with them. I wanted to be in the middle of whatever they’d taken out on each other.
I stepped back to admire her as I had with Lex. Her long ginger hair hung in a messy plait down the side of her body, and she wore one of Lex’s old Nirvana shirts with nothing on underneath it. Bite marks glowed on the insides of her thighs, matching a few hickeys on her neck, and that envious inferno ramped up another notch in my gut.
“You look amazing, darling,” I said, running the tip of my finger over a bite mark on the spot where her X appeared.
“I missed you.” Ivy grabbed my hands to stop me, twisting our fingers together, the touch soothing and invigorating.
“I missed you, too.” I gave her another kiss because in all the years I’d known her, I’d always wanted to put my greedy mouth on her. I’d had about a week of free rein before life tossed us in opposite directions. Now, it hurt not to touch her.
“You guys feel it, right?” I asked. “Please tell me you feel it.”
“We feel it,” Ivy said, nodding. “It started last night.”
“For me, too,” I said. “It won’t go away. I’ve given myself carpal tunnel on the flight over here.”
Ivy laughed as Lex lit a cigarette, and it felt almost perfect.
Almost.
If this were different circumstances or perhaps we were different people, there would have been the awkwardness of the breakup and subsequent time span between us. Maybe once this rush was over, that tension might seep back into whatever tatters of a relationship we still had. But under the influence of this clawing, needy thing, it was like we’d pressed play on a song we paused long ago, a song we all knew the words to. We picked it back up without missing a beat.
Ivy pulled me into the living room, Lex went to the kitchen to get us some water, and I knew two things immediately.
We were in for a sweaty, confusing night.
And I was finally home.