Chapter 20
“Why are you avoiding us?” Zayn, Crown Prince of Lativa, demanded as he barged into Rylan’s house the next morning. He didn’t knock. He never knocked.
Right behind him was Prince Saif—another cousin, another uninvited guest—who took a slow, assessing glance around until his eyes found Rylan.
“Is there a reason we’re barging in today?
” Max demanded dryly as he followed them in, looking every inch the dangerous man he was.
Unlike the two princes, Max wasn’t royalty—but he’d been tied to them for years through business deals, mutual respect, and the occasional willingness to scare people half to death.
Rylan glanced up from the couch, his glare sharp enough to kill. “Go. Away.”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Saif commented, strolling into the room like he owned the place.
When Rylan stood, all three men stared like they’d just spotted a wild animal walking upright. Saif was first to recover. “What happened to you? You look like you wrestled a bear and lost.”
Zayn poured three mugs of coffee—because of course he did—and handed one to Saif and the other to Max without breaking stride. “Not a bear. Maybe a small car.”
Rylan scowled but didn’t deny it. “I said go away.”
Max leaned against the wall, one hand cradling the mug of coffee, his face unreadable. “I’m staying. This has potential.”
“Why are you walking like that?” Zayn demanded, now studying him like a doctor about to give bad news. “You’re hobbling. Did Tom beat you on the mats again?”
“I can take Tom,” Rylan grumbled, gripping his coffee like it had personally betrayed him. “And no, this has nothing to do with sparring.”
“Then what?” Saif’s grin was growing by the second. “Don’t tell me—sex injury? Did someone finally outmaneuver you in bed?”
“Now that I’d pay to see,” Zayn added, smirking into his coffee. “Imagine Rylan bested by a woman.”
Rylan’s glare deepened. “All of you, out. Now.”
“Not a chance.” Saif sprawled into a chair, stretching out like he had nowhere else to be. “We’re here until you talk.”
Max pushed off the wall, his voice low and cutting through the chatter. “Let me guess—it was a woman. And she introduced you to something you’ve never done before. That’s the only thing that explains this much limping.”
“It wasn’t kinky sex,” Rylan snapped, forcing himself to stand again and praying to every god in existence that he wouldn’t faceplant. “It was…” He hesitated, glancing between them like he was weighing whether it was worth the humiliation. “Yoga.”
Silence. Then—
Zayn’s eyebrows shot up so far they nearly left his forehead. “It was a woman! No man voluntarily signs up for yoga unless he’s trying to impress someone hot and very flexible.”
Max tilted his head. “Why do you immediately assume a woman was involved?”
Saif snorted. “Because this is Rylan, and if it’s not business or beating someone senseless in a ring, the only thing that motivates him is a woman.”
Max paused… then chuckled. “Fair point.”
Zayn stepped into Rylan’s path toward the kitchen. “So. A woman you want in your bed, then?”
Rylan ignored him and kept walking.
Saif shook his head, still grinning. “She must be something else if she convinced you to try yoga. What was it—hot yoga? Goat yoga?”
Max’s mouth twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “I’m more interested in why you let her talk you into it.”
“I didn’t let her talk me into anything,” Rylan shot back, setting his mug down with enough force to make the ceramic clink. “She challenged me, and I accepted.”
“Yoga as a challenge?” Zayn’s laugh boomed through the room. “Cousin, you used to climb mountains for fun. Now you’re trying to impress women with downward dog? You’re slipping.”
Saif leaned forward, his grin wicked. “Tell us, Rylan. Was it worth it? Did she twist you into a pretzel before or after you got her in bed?”
Rylan groaned, leaning against the countertop. “You’re all idiots.”
“And yet, you love us anyway,” Saif shot back, grin widening.
Max straightened, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “Sounds like she’s gotten under your skin. Dangerous territory.”
Zayn and Saif exchanged a glance before both turned on Max. “You’d know,” Saif teased. “Last I checked, you were the reigning champion of avoiding entanglements.”
Max’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t bite. Instead, his gaze swung back to Rylan. “So? You going to tell us about her, or do we pry it out of you?”
Rylan rubbed a hand over his face, muttering under his breath before giving in. “Fine. Her name’s Natalie. She’s an interior designer. And no, I haven’t slept with her. Yet.”
Zayn pounced on the word like a predator on fresh prey. “Yet? So it’s in the plan?”
“Shut up,” Rylan growled.
They laughed like wolves circling a wounded animal.
“She must be something special,” Max said thoughtfully. “Got you doing yoga and saying her name like it’s a secret you want to keep.”
There was a beat before Rylan’s mouth curved—just slightly—as he nodded. “She is.” He left it there, but the tightening of his jaw and the softening of his eyes said more than he’d ever admit.
Saif leaned back, smug as a cat licking up cream. “Oh, this is going to be fun to watch.”
“You two should leave,” Rylan warned. “And take Max with you.”
Max’s chuckle was low and amused. “Not happening. This is better than cable.”
Rylan’s glare could have melted steel. Max only shrugged. “What can I say? I enjoy watching a man squirm.”
Zayn lifted his coffee in a mock toast. “To Natalie—the woman who finally brought Rylan to his knees.”
“Get. Out.”
Their laughter echoed through the room as Rylan’s lips twitched despite himself. He hated them all in that moment. But he wouldn’t trade them for anything.
And yeah—Natalie was worth every second of this torment.