Snowbound and Royally Forbidden (Royals of Cartana #3)

Chapter One

Prince Valenti Domene of Cartana jumped down from the two-seater fighter jet with a litheness that widened the young pilot’s eyes.

At times like these, it helped to be a prince of a powerful kingdom. Better yet if Azar Domene, your older brother, the king and commander in chief of the royal military, had several fleets of fighter jets at his disposal.

It had cut down the normal hours-long journey to a mere forty-five minutes, with airspaces cleared with one phone call.

He saluted the pilot and whirled around, the sight of the gleaming black sports car waiting for him twenty feet away, easing another layer of the angst riding him hard.

This one was courtesy of his twin brother, Teo.

Valenti would get a ton of back-chat and demands for favours, but for now, he was grateful for the expedited support.

He slid behind the wheel, gunned the engine and floored the accelerator out of the military base north of the small Scandinavian country of Reykland.

Soaring fir trees flashed past in shades of green and red, but the autumnal beauty of one of the most beautiful places he’d ever visited barely impinged on his roiling senses.

All of this would be worth it if the recipient of this entire upheaval would appreciate the effort.

His lips flattened. The chances of that happening would be nil. Not after the way they’d clashed at their last meeting, when years of fondness and easy conversation had morphed into…something else. Something he was still at a loss to describe.

At a loss or…unwilling, even unnerved to pin down?

It didn’t matter. Not if she was in danger.

Quelling the anxiety threatening to rise, he thumbed the voice-activated phone system. His deputy answered before the first ring finished.

‘Status report,’ Valenti barked.

‘We’ve been here an hour, Your Highness. It’s all safe and sound.’

Safe and sound.

How he hated that term. In his chilling experience, things tended to be safe and sound…until they weren’t.

Safe and sound had turned into a harrowing nightmare in the blink of an eye seven years ago, shattering one family and introducing him to a dark world of anguish and bitterness he didn’t need to look very deep to locate.

It was the invisible cloak that yes, stole his joy, but also maintained his focus razor-sharp, ensuring that one devastating event never had the chance to repeat itself.

Ever. Collateral damage was considered part of running a security outfit, but he refused to accept preventable failure.

And this was very much such a scenario.

‘You’re still at the club?’ he asked, although he was merely confirming an answer he knew. The person they were watching was as intractable as a dog with a bone.

‘Yes, sir.’ An infinitesimal hesitation before, ‘She…she’s refusing to leave.’

With any other client being actively stalked, Valenti wouldn’t even have to say the necessary words. Remove her by force. But he’d long ago drilled into his men that this particular client wasn’t to be touched. Under any circumstances.

And yes, while it baffled him completely that he would go to such lengths with her, he hadn’t been able to retract his extreme reaction to having anyone lay their hands on her.

His ward.

Lotte Lillegard.

A twenty-two-year-old walking nightmare and albatross around his neck for the last seven years. And for the next three years. But once she turned twenty-five, he could wash his hands of her. Because he would have fulfilled the promise he’d made. Finally.

The knife of guilt sliding between his ribs robbed him of breath, making him grit his jaw as he stomped harder on the accelerator, shooting past slower vehicles and changing lanes, willing time to pass just as fast.

Spotting the Asbj?rg Bridge that would take him into Ljomi, Reykland’s capital, a layer of tension eased. Not enough until he clapped eyes on her, confirmed for himself that she was fine. And even then, he knew a different, original, weight would resettle in its place.

‘Do not take your eyes off her for one single moment, is that understood?’

‘Of course, Your Highness,’ came the brisk reassurance.

Valenti didn’t feel guilt for reiterating the command.

Overkill wasn’t a word in his vocabulary.

Not anymore. He’d failed to stress a dire situation once in his life, and he’d lost a good friend, one who, had she lived, could’ve changed the course of his life.

Knowing the loss had crushed his own dreams was a guilty secret he couldn’t shed.

A secret that chased him into his nightmares.

And yes, he knew it was also why dropping his guard where Lotte was concerned wasn’t an option.

He could and had learned to live with many things, but that wasn’t one of them.

Even if Lotte Lillegard tested his last nerve.

The combination of traffic-monitoring gadgets, and probably Azar greasing the way further for him, meant he wasn’t stopped for speeding.

He stepped out of the sports car, kicked the door shut, and was inside the nightclub in under a minute.

One of his subordinates met him at the opening that led to the cavernous room where dozens of bodies writhed in tempo to the thumping music. Not his second in command because he was obeying Valenti’s command.

‘This way, Your Highness.’

The man, almost as tall as Valenti and even broader than him, muscled his way through the crowd to the back of the club. From the corner of his eye, Valenti saw the guard flick him a nervous glance before respectfully backing away. Revealing his quarry in all her glory.

For the briefest moment, his footstep faltered. Seeing her for the first time in three years, Valenti had hoped the unsettling elements that had churned between them then would’ve dissipated.

The clenching in his gut said otherwise.

It was a combination of fury—although he wasn’t entirely sure what this fresh bout of fury stemmed from—shock, disquiet and…primal, soul-scorching—

No. He was not going to dignify that insufferable hint of a forbidden sensation with a label.

He’d received weekly reports from the security team in charge of her safety; he’d spoken to her older brother every few months—although with Gunnar Lillegard busy with his Doctors Without Borders duties, he too rarely saw his little sister; he ensured her apartment, food, clothing and education and the trio of staff to take care of her needs were all in place.

But he, Valenti, hadn’t set eyes on Lotte since her nineteenth birthday.

And even then, for all of half a day. She’d turned up unannounced in San Maribet, stunning the hell out of him, after giving her security team the slip and earning five men immediate firing.

And while he wasn’t proud of himself for barely recognising the woman she’d seemingly turned into overnight—since most of their contact had been by phone or hurried text lately—he hadn’t suppressed the visceral need to be rid of her.

To listen to the hindbrain warning that keeping her around was a mistake.

Her protests about being sent away had threatened to rattle him, until he assured himself he was doing the right thing.

She was better off in Reykland—statistically one of the safest places on earth.

That hindbrain caution returned full force now, sending sheets of shock through his system as he stalked to a halt at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze riveted on the woman lost in the throes of music and dance without a care in the world.

The shoulder-length waves he remembered had grown out to almost waist-length, straightened tonight so they fell in iron-straight silky sheets that flew around her as she gyrated in sky-high heels.

The second observation crept far too close to that forbidden sensation he’d first experienced three years ago, and try as he did to smash it to oblivion, it continued to bloom within him.

The reality was that Lotte Lillegard had left every trace of girlhood behind; had bloomed into a stunningly attractive woman. Even more breathtakingly beautiful than—

Valenti shook his head to dispel the direction of his thoughts, stalking forward with a thin burst of satisfaction when bodies hastily fell away, giving him a clear path to the girl…woman who still hadn’t noticed him.

Who according to his team, had dismissed the danger she was in with a shrug and grimace. As if it was a pesky fly in an easily replaceable cocktail. The same way another threat had been dismissed, with lethal consequences almost a decade ago.

His stomach knotted as memories pushed harder. Of him dropping to his knees, gathering an unresponsive body in his arms…swearing, pleading, praying…to no avail.

Which was why he arrived next to her with a red haze of renewed fury rushing across his eyes. Why he closed his hand over her arm when she continued to remain oblivious to him. Grew angrier when he noticed just why she was so oblivious.

The phone in her hand, turned onto some live social media platform, dozens of hearts flowing up the screen as eager strangers rabidly followed her exploits.

‘Excuse me!’ She rounded on him, to her credit aiming a slender leg in a defensive posture he remembered teaching her eons ago. He blocked it easily, then steadied her as she stumbled on stiletto heels, her blue eyes widening in shock.

‘V-Valenti?’

His belly clenched in weird reaction to his name on her lips, then noted why. Her voice had lost its high girlish pitch, had dropped several octaves into a huskiness that tunnelled deep, into dark, forbidden places it really shouldn’t.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

Valenti didn’t bother holding back his ire. ‘I should be asking you that. What the hell do you think?’ She opened her mouth to answer. He stopped her by sliding his gaze to the phone clutched in her hand. ‘Turn that thing off. Now.’