Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
A DONIS DIDN’T REMEMBER when or if ever he had held a lover like he was holding Jemima, or if he had even stayed with one after satiating his base impulses.
But then, before he had decided on proving to himself that he would stop the path of self-destruction just to spite his father, he had been an angry, aggressive, reactive animal with little common sense.
Only when he had stopped sleeping around with anything that moved, and stopped drinking, and doing foolish stunts just to feel something, and fully focused on building his career, had he, for the first time in his life, known his true self. Until then, he had been nothing but a construct, like some horror hall of mirrors, reflecting nothing but reactive, destructive behaviors, designed to court his father’s approval, then his attention, and then to provoke shame and anger in him.
All of which he had succeeded at enormously.
Honing self-discipline and control and focus had become another daredevil stunt, another way to test himself, because without it, he would have imploded.
And when control had slowly become a growing muscle and he had begun rebuilding himself from all the twisted pieces of his self-worth, he’d been filled with disgust and pity at his previous behaviors.
He had been no better than a child, even at twenty-five, desperate for his father’s affection and approval. While he knew he hadn’t fully cured himself of the disease, he’d gotten rid of most of the symptoms through distance and by hardening his heart.
He had been at his healthiest—physically and mentally—when he’d been thousands of miles from his father and Thalassos. Still, it had been the life of an ascetic, because his mind operated in binaries, in all or nothing. He had no deep connections to anyone.
The last thing he’d expected when he’d returned, especially without the comforting buffer his brother provided between him and his father—was this kind of respite amidst the chaos.
And yet… Jemima was here, in his arms, soft and sated and real. More real and giving than any relationship he had had in his life.
The unhealed part of him still didn’t trust her fully and neither could it come up with some devious reasoning behind her actions.
“You’re off somewhere again, Prince. Not that I’m complaining.”
Her whisper was thready against his forearm, though she didn’t try to move out of the cradle of his thighs. When a cool breeze flew in, carrying the night’s chill with it, she shivered. Adonis rubbed his palms over her bare arms and pulled her tighter against him.
“But since you aren’t restless or frothing at the mouth as you were at this morning’s meeting, I shall happily take credit for it.”
The minx was damned good at reading him right and then provoking him. “If you have a question, Princess, I’d always prefer you ask it than speculate on my motives. The entire world already paints a picture of me that pleases itself and had no basis in truth.”
She scooted up on the chaise longue, rubbing that delightfully round ass against his groin. A groan rumbled up through his chest, his cock all too ready for action again. He gripped her ample hips none too gently and bent his mouth to her ear. “Two more days, Jemima. Try teasing me like that then.”
Her breath came in raspy huffs as she said, “How will you punish me?”
“I will simply lift you and impale you on my sword, Princess. And then I’ll make you ride me, as I intend to be a lazy, arrogant king. Maybe I’ll have a mirror installed against the opposite wall and watch those luscious breasts bounce as you make yourself come.”
Tilting her head into an awkward position against his neck, she looked at him upside down, the thick curves of her lips damp and trembling. The amber of her eyes glinted brilliantly, desire shining through like a flame inside her. “You think you scandalize me?” she said, digging her teeth into his chin with a casual intimacy that floored him. “All it does is fill me with eagerness for our wedding night.” Her hands swept over his body, stroking, pinching, constantly touching.
As a child, as a teenager, as an adult, touch had always been his primary need. And he’d always been denied it or had sought it in the worst ways possible.
That this woman who had come into his life through a cruel twist of fate would grant him the thing he had always craved…felt too good to be true, or real, or permanent.
Christos, he couldn’t let her entangle him into believing that this was anything more than passion and partnership at best. He had been her choice under the worst kind of duress just as he was Thalassos’s. She had only wanted him when he was a challenge, as a stolen memory for one kiss. Not two weeks later, she’d bowed her head, accepting her betrothal to his brother.
He couldn’t forget that he had been nothing but excitement and fun for one evening to her, couldn’t let this forced connection dig its claws deeper into him. Couldn’t forget that he was the Prince of Thalassos for her. Nothing more.
When she’d have moved up and kissed him, he shifted his head away from the touch and slowly untangled her from him. The bastard he was, he didn’t even try to make it look casual or as if he weren’t rejecting her touch. “I think playtime is over, Princess,” he said, infusing easy lethargy into his tone.
“What?” she whispered.
Steadying her shoulders against the lounger, he threw his legs to the side and stood up. “I still have to finish reading those damned summary notes and come to some sort of conclusion,” he said, without meeting her gaze. “You should go back to your wing and rest. No doubt your calendar is as packed as mine is for the next couple of days.”
His skin, warm moments ago with her lush curves bare and pressed up against him, instantly chilled as he walked to his desk. He tightened his jaw against the soft sounds of her straightening her dress and hair, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her.
What he didn’t expect was that she would precede him to the neatly tucked away bar at the rustic wall and pour a finger of whiskey into a tumbler. She drank it in one long gulp, giving him the perfect view of the elegant arch of her neck.
Just like that, heated longing filled him. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to resist her innocent demand that she wanted everything now and wait for their wedding night. A primal, near-animal part of him wanted to fill her with his seed and get her pregnant as soon as possible. It was the first time in his life that fate or the universe or whatever higher power was out there had granted him a boon. He wasn’t going to lose it.
Jemima was the sort of woman who would upend the world for her children, would give her undying loyalty to every commitment she made. Having children with her, he knew would create a bond between them that he didn’t know how to create, or want to create, in any other way. It felt like a cheat, a shortcut for binding her to him, without giving her anything of value in return. Getting her emotionally tangled in him, in them, without investing his own emotions.
But he didn’t care.
Her true loyalty, her clever mind, everything she had to give would be his then. The one gift Thalassos was giving him as its king, and he would claim as his due.
“I won’t be able to wind down for a while,” she said, pinning her hair into a tight knot. He couldn’t look away from her breasts thrust up by the action. “Why not talk through the sticky points of the treaty with me?”
“How, if you aren’t aware of its contents?” he snapped. “It’s a stupid rule that you shouldn’t be allowed into the meetings until the coronation. I too was an outsider until two weeks ago. Even with all their conniving heads put together, those old men don’t have your common sense.”
Whatever she might have thought of his sudden cold treatment of her, his praise made her eyes light up with humor. And he remembered how she had gushed damp when he’d called her a good girl.
Could his regal, efficient, damned smart queen-to-be have a praise kink? “Careful, Your Highness. Or your subjects might call you whipped.”
“If that’s what I get for listening to the smartest person in the palace, then so be it.”
“So use that intelligence, Adonis,” she said, urgency seeping into her words. “It’s at your disposal. Just imagine if you can solve this problem and pass a new treaty as your first act as King of Thalassos. It not only sets up your regime spectacularly but it cements your place among the people. No one can question your—”
“I don’t like seeing you scared, Jemima,” he said, despite his resolve to keep her at a distance. Something about the innocent being bullied had always riled him up.
Her throat worked as she tried to smooth her features. “I don’t trust my father. You’re the answer to so many wishes and the target of such ill wills, Adonis. And not just because you’re Queen Isadora’s son but because you’ve seen the world outside and are not bogged down by outdated traditions. Just in two weeks, you have earned my trust.”
The weight of her faith sat like a boulder on his chest while his own behavior of moments ago shamed him. And he knew that he had to extend that very same faith at some point. That he had to trust that she wanted the best for the kingdom, even if their relationship couldn’t be more than duty.
Clasping her hand with his, he brought her to his enormous desk. “I don’t have a list of sticking points because I didn’t understand the legalese.” He smoothed out his tone, refused to dress up his words with either pity or importance. It had taken him a long while to see himself as whole, as not deficient, and he wouldn’t change that for anyone.
“I have a host of learning disabilities that I have addressed with therapy and such. But that bloody tome is too dense for me to get through without professional help.”
Shock made Jemima still, flushing her with a cold chill. His admission was matter-of-fact, if tinged at the end with frustration.
Suddenly, a lot of tiny tidbits she’d heard about him around the palace made perfect sense. Admiration and worry filled her chest. She spoke with care, managing to make her tone free of either. “And you don’t want to betray your condition to even your team?”
“I have two assistants I would trust with my life. One is off on maternity leave and the other is unable to travel long distances due to his chronic illness.”
“And yet you told me about…it,” she said, disbelief ringing through her.
“You’re right that either we trust each other or we don’t.” His gaze held hers. “It can’t be doled out through some calculated process.”
“Am I allowed to ask any questions about it or why you—”
“It’s a set of disabilities I’ve lived with for thirty-four years. The last thing I want now is to make this about me when Thalassos stands at the line of debt or war. Let’s focus on how to find a solution to this trade problem. Our excessive, extravagant wedding is only going to push us deeper into the debt hole.”
Jemima nodded, burying the million questions that wanted to spring out of her mouth, her heart suddenly heavy with ache for this Prince who was unlike any man she’d ever known.
* * *
It took them three hours to figure out how to listen to each other, how to get their ideas across and then how to understand the problem that was bogging down the trade treaty that should have been signed eighteen months ago.
At the end of it, Jemima sat sprawled in the armchair in the most un-queenly manner, her fingers wrapped around a whiskey tumbler that she was precariously balancing on her belly.
Adonis, for his part, had taken to the floor thirty minutes into their discussion, clad only in linen pants that highlighted the tight cut of his hips and deliciously taut ass, claiming that he thought better when he performed his grounding exercises. When he was moving and interacting with the world around him.
Halfway through his stretches, she had muttered that while the routine might be grounding him, it distracted her like hell.
In response, he’d kneeled in front of her—this tall, gorgeous stud of a man, buried his hands in her hair and kissed the hell out of her.
It struck her suddenly that Queen Isadora had been exactly right. Apparently, the more honestly she gave of herself and demanded from him, the more Adonis would give her.
After that detour, Jemima finally finished reading the dense summary and highlighted the crux of the problem for him. His anger and frustration at bureaucratic red tape that bogged down the matter were as hypnotic to watch as when he grabbed a pen and started doodling.
It hadn’t taken him long to understand that Ephyra was struggling with the worst economic crisis in decades, with a young queen leading it, and was therefore digging its heels in.
And finally, the brilliance of his unique approach when he’d come up with the suggestion for creating a joint adventure tourism company with their neighbor Ephyra, using its natural beauty and Thalassos’s technical advances.
A new partnership, he declared, pooling resources and technology rather than constantly being at each other’s necks.
Exhausted and yet somehow wired, Jemima stared at the man who clearly was still tormented by the rift with his father, who didn’t see himself as the right man to rule the nation, who spoke of Thalassos with such deep love and loyalty…and marveled at how he was an even better fit than Adamos to be the King of Thalassos.
A chill enveloped her as she wondered how close Prince Adonis was to the man she’d always imagined would come into her life and sweep her off her feet, despite the fact that even dreaming had been forbidden to her.
It terrified her that her fairy-tale fantasy had somehow turned real and that it might all disappear in a puff of smoke if she didn’t hold onto it with both hands and her heart.