Chapter Seventeen
Sophaya
I slip out of the ballroom, leaving behind the music and champagne and caviar as I walk down the hallway.
Two turns and one long hallway later, and I’m at the library.
Not the royal library. Grand as it is, I need the peace and quiet of the smaller library my grandfather used to conduct meetings he wanted to feel more personal.
The same library where I would spend hours curled up in the window seat during the summer or snuggled into a wingback chair in front of the fireplace.
I stop in front of the double doors. Lay my hands on the handles and breathe in deeply before I open them and walk inside.
The scent of paper and leather wraps around me.
It’s been too long for the scent of Grandfather’s tobacco to still linger.
Yet I swear I can smell it as I close the doors and lock them behind me.
Mahogany shelves stretch up twenty feet to the ceiling, every shelf lined with books on everything from botany and history to science fiction and even a few romance titles my grandfather added for my grandmother.
I trail my fingers over the ladder, glance up at the still gleaming brass track. More than once, I’d climb up and hang on as Grandfather pushed me around the room.
My eyes stray to the desk in the corner. Tears prick my eyes. “I wish you were here.”
When I first started down the aisle at my wedding, I almost stopped.
Dominic had looked cold, hard, the opposite of the man I spoke with last night.
But then he smiled. It wasn’t a true smile.
But he was trying. And when he told me I looked beautiful as he held my gaze while he said his vows, and then kissed me with restrained passion I felt all the way to my toes, hope rekindled.
Only to be smothered moments later when the helicopter invaded the gardens.
I realized after Rosalina and I had been escorted inside to a safe room that Dominic had stayed behind. Terror had broken through the apathetic state I’d retreated into and didn’t leave until he texted and confirmed he was safe.
It had taken several phone calls to confirm that he and Arthur were on their way to Villeluz to rendezvous with the police who had chased off the helicopter.
An hour later it was verified the pilot had been hired by a television show to fly overhead and get photos.
The photographer had insisted that the pilot fly low, not realizing until it was too late the damage it would cause.
The all-clear was given. My mother had surprised me by showing up with another wedding dress to change into since mine had ended up covered in grass stains and several tears from flying debris.
The new dress was a simple ball gown with a silver ribbon about the waist and a long, flowing skirt.
I changed as guests were escorted into the ballroom, which had been redone for the wedding in shades of violet and ivory, for the cocktail hour.
I stayed with Rosalina and plied her with sweets until I was sure she was feeling better.
The mood started off tense, with guests casting worried glances toward the windows.
But when Dominic arrived, I forgot royal protocol and strode across the floor, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him.
When he hugged me back, held me tight against him and told me it was going to be okay, I almost believed him.
Our guests applauded when he kissed me. Finally, the mood lightened enough for people to actually enjoy the festivities.
Wine from some of Siravelle’s wineries on the eastern coast flowed, as did champagne imported from France.
The bar served custom cocktails like sparkling elderflower wine with wild mountain herbs and a sangria with peaches from some of the country’s finest orchards.
Waiters mingled among the guests, silver trays loaded with seared quail skewers, grilled artichokes dusted with ground pine nuts and goat cheese bonbons.
A plated dinner was served. In thirty minutes, there would be a break in the dancing, and guests would be ushered out onto the seaside terrace for a fireworks display.
The perfect royal wedding reception. There were plenty of things I liked, especially the focus on Siravellian food, drinks and artisans. The flowers were sourced from local growers, the linens made in Ardavela.
But it’s still just so much. So many people, so many things happening at once.
For once, Dominic didn’t seem irritated by it.
He danced with me, Rosalina, even my mother.
He visited with guests, kept my plate full and my glass filled with a nonalcoholic merlot.
Yet even as the guests gradually relaxed and the atmosphere turned celebratory, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our relationship had suffered a catastrophic blow today.
Dominic had finally experienced the ugliness that comes with being a royal.
Yes, occasional photos of him and his previous girlfriends had ended up in the papers or online.
But those were few and far between, opportunities taken, not hunted down.
How can a man who loathes being in the spotlight, who is one of the most private people I know, handle this life?
How long before his commitment turns to resentment?
I glance at the clock on the mantel. Ten minutes, I promise myself. Just ten minutes to catch my breath and then I’ll go back.
A faint click sounds. I whirl around as the door swings open, my heart thudding in my chest, only to sigh in relief when Dominic walks in.
“I thought I locked that.”
“You did.”
I smile slightly even as a small pang hits me in the chest. There’s still so much I don’t know about him. I know he’s protective, dedicated, loyal. Kind to children and committed to being a father. I know his favorite Bond actor and what he likes to read.
But I still don’t know how he survived all those years on the streets of New York or how he met his brothers. I don’t know why he keeps his emotions so close to his chest, why he can’t let his guard down.
I may know simple facts about my husband. But I don’t really know the man I’m now married to.
“Did you learn how to pick locks with the Rangers?”
He watches me for a moment. “When I was nine.”
My heart plummets. “Nine?” I repeat softly.
“I ran away from foster care when I was eight.” He walks over to the window seat and looks out over the gardens.
“I fell in with a gang for a couple years while I learned how to live on the streets. They weren’t the coziest bunch of teenagers, but they kept me alive.
I was usually the first in when we broke in to stores or storage units. ”
I take a step toward him. I want to offer comfort, to lay a hand on his shoulder or even wrap my arms around his waist and hold him. But I don’t know how he would react. And after the events of today, I can’t handle one more thing.
“Maybe you could teach me.”
He turns to stare at me before tilting his head back and letting out a laugh. A deep, genuine laugh that fills me even as it chases away the darkness that’s lingered since the ceremony. “You constantly surprise me, Princess.”
“As do you, Prince Consort.”
He scowls. “Explain to me again why I can’t go by Mr. Hawke.”
I laugh. “Oh no. If I have to go by Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Sophaya of Siravelle, you can suck it up for Prince Consort.”
His gaze softens as he watches me. I wish he’d look at me like that more often, like he cares for me just a little bit.
“It’s good to see you smile,” he says quietly.
I nod. “It’s getting better.”
The softness disappears, replaced by cold, hard determination.
“Both the photographer and the pilot are in jail awaiting charges. The pilot will be in prison for a long time for violating royal airspace guidelines. An investigation is pending on both the photographer and the company who sent him.” His smile turns sharp.
“He showed us text messages from his supervisor telling him to get the photos at any cost or he’d be out of a job. ”
A shiver creeps down my spine. “I hope this dies down after the wedding.”
He walks towards me. “There are going to be…” He stops himself, breathes in. “I’m suggesting several changes at the next security meeting when we get back from our honeymoon.”
I smile slightly at the effort he’s putting in. “I’m interested to hear them.”
He stops in front of me. Reaches up and cups my cheek once more just like he did during the ceremony. “You should come with me to New York.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“For the autumn gala.”
I think back to that night two months ago when I imagined doing just that. “Um… I’d have to check my calendar—”
“Just say yes.”
I swallow hard. Then, slowly, I smile. “I’d like that.”
“So would I.” His face hardens. “I won’t let this happen again.”
As the heat from his palm warms my face, I reach up and lay my hand over his. He steps closer. Need rises up inside me. Not just need for him, but a desperate desire to just exist with him for a few moments. No photographers, no schedules, no parade of guests I barely even know.
Just us. Only us.
“Make love to me, Dominic.”
His eyes darken. “Here?”
I wrap my arms around his neck, brush my lips across his. “I need you. Now.”
He crushes me to him and kisses me before I can even draw a breath.
I gasp, opening my lips to him and moaning when his tongue brushes mine with intimate strokes.
He pulls back, smirking at my frustrated moan, and stalks across the room to lock the doors.
He makes a lap around the room, closing the curtains until it’s just dark.
And then he’s in front of me once more, resuming his sensual assault on my lips.
His hands start to work on the tiny buttons holding the back of my dress together. Every button undone is slow, delicious torture as his fingers brush my bare back.
Finally, the buttons are undone. He lifts his head, his eyes never leaving mine as he eases the straps down over my shoulders, bares my breasts.
“You are so beautiful.”
Almost the same words he said to me at the ceremony. But now, as he lowers his head and captures one nipple in his mouth, there’s a reverence in his voice, a depth of emotion that brings tears to my eyes and hope to my heart.
I trail my fingers through his thick hair, arch into his mouth. Every lick, every kiss, every suck is exquisite, driving me wild as my body grows increasingly desperate.
Finally, he raises his head and places his hands on my waist, lifting me up slightly before setting me on the window seat.
He moves between my legs, his fingers tracing trails of fire up and down my bare arms. I grab his lapels, pull him down so I can kiss his neck, lave my tongue over the soft spot at the base of his throat.
His growl of pleasure echoes in the library.
“Taste me, Dominic.”
He starts to kiss me again, but I lay a finger across his lips. Shyness threatens to intrude, but I force myself to ask. “Not there.”
His eyes turn molten. “Your wish is my command.”
“Just not my orders?” I tease as he leans down and grips the hem of my dress.
He gives me one last soul-searing kiss before he kneels in front of me. “I’ll honor any order you give me right now.”
And he means it. He’s giving me power, ceding his control. A choice that doesn’t come easily to him and means all the more to me because it’s hard.
His hands slide up my calves. I moan. “I never thought I’d enjoy this so much.”
He stops, his hands tightening on my knees. “What do you mean?”
I blush, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. “Well, this…you, um, kissing me down there…”
“Yes?”
I reach down, brush a stray strand of dark hair out of his face. “You’re the first man to kiss me like that. The only one,” I add softly as my fingers linger on the sharp blade of his cheekbone, the roughness of his beard.
His breathing grows harsh as he watches me. He turns, grabs my wrist and presses a kiss to my palm, gently scraping his teeth over my skin before he resumes his journey. He pushes my skirt up around my hips. I arch up, my own breathing coming in quick gasps as he eases my panties off.
Leaving me completely bare before him.
He kisses the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Brushes his mouth over my mound. Teasing me with fleeting touches and open-mouthed kisses until I want to scream.
Finally, he places his mouth on me. I cry out his name as his tongue strokes me to new heights of pleasure, his hands clamped down on my hips. The climax comes quick, sensation spiraling through me as I shudder in ecstasy.
He stands, reaches for his belt.
My release is still traveling through my veins, but I bat his hand away. “My turn.”
I undo his belt, pull down his zipper, and reach into his pants to wrap my fingers around his hard length. I move my hand in long strokes, simulating the motions he just performed on me as his head drops back on a moan. I lower my mouth, taste him, savor how he grows even harder.
His hands grab onto my shoulders and lifts me up.
“I need you. Now.”
I cry out again as he slides inside me. My body clamps down around him.
My whole life I’ve wanted to be needed, wanted for myself. Now, as we move together, our rhythm quickening and our hearts pounding, I know that whether or not Dominic and I ever have love, we’ll always have our passion, our mutual need to possess and be possessed by each other.
I peak again, Dominic kissing me to keep my screams quiet. I tighten my legs against his hips as he swells inside me moments before finding his own release.
I slump forward, leaning against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, lays his head on top of mine. My eyes drift shut as my breath comes out on a sigh.
This. I want more of this. Not just the sex, although I certainly would not mind if this became a part of our everyday. But I also want these moments where it’s just us, stripped bare by desire without any pretense or fears between us, letting our true selves show.
In this wonderful, blissful moment, I feel whole for the first time in years.
Dominic presses a kiss to my forehead. “We should get back.”
“Mm-hmm.”
His arms tighten around me a moment before he raises his head. “Let’s get you dressed.”
I stand and let the folds of my skirt fall and slip my arms into the straps before presenting my back to him.
“Tonight?”
He chuckles as he works on the buttons. “Are multiple rounds of lovemaking allowed in your condition?”
“Carmen, my doctor, strongly recommends it.”
He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Then I’m yours all night, Princess.”