It's our time to shine, and I'm getting pissed.

Maybe it's the frustration that sets in every time I have to face these gutter feeding reporters, drooling over their next slice of red meat.

Or maybe it's the fact that I know she's brushing off Serena's bitchiness. I fucking knew my press secretary would make this harder the second she stepped in, and looked at me like I'd lost my damned mind for introducing my pretend fiancee.

Mostly, I'm fuming because I can barely see Erin's ass underneath that hundred year old thing she's wearing, and that's a brutal shame. She's in front of me, at the podium, trying her damnedest to follow my lead.

I want to take my bare hands and start tearing through every layer, then lay her out in front of me, naked as the day she was born.

Christ. I need to fuck this girl. However wrong, however complicated, however self-destructive, I don't care. My cock can't even try to give a shit.

I look into the closest camera and smile, calm and cool as I humanly can. “Ladies, gentleman, and friends of the kingdom. This is a very special day for our people, our family, and for me, especially. You'll recognize the special guest at my side as Erin Warwick, daughter of Tom, the journalist from the United States. We're not up here to discuss her dad's health, or book a follow-up, so don't get any crazy ideas.”

A couple laughs ripple through the crowd. I'm going to tease the assholes as long as I can, before I hit them between the eyes, and leave them running around like headless hens.

“Those of you who've followed me for years know I'm all about the unexpected. Miss Warwick tumbling into my arms is the happiest surprise I've ever had the pleasure of receiving.” I pause, wanting to snort at my own prim and proper bullshit.

The press laps it up, of course. They love the Jekyll and Hyde split in my ego. One more contrast between buttoned up heir to the throne in public and the shameless playboy who gives them infinite drama when his private life leaks.

“Sire?” Vic mouths it from the side of the room, letting me know I've let my mind wander too long.

“Yes, well, this world's full of shocks. Some of them very ugly, like the time I found out my father had gone down with his yacht, lost to the sea forever. Some surprises, however, are quite beautiful. I walked into that interview with the Warwick Report expecting a slew of pointed questions. I didn't expect him to collapse on this very stage, and wind up leaving our kingdom for the best care a man can receive for his condition. I'm pleased to be a part of that treatment, whatever it takes to save the life of a world renowned journalist.”

Next to me, Erin's face has turned visibly somber. I've said enough to play the kind, charitable Prince. I'm not going to dwell on her dear old dad's health a second longer than I need to.

“What I didn't expect, ladies and gentleman, was to find something wonderful in that public tragedy. You're all wondering why she's here, at my side, today. I won't leave you in suspense any longer. I've gotten to know her better than I ever imagined since the last day the cameras landed on us. Erin?” I turn to her, pull her closer, taking her hand.

She's squeezing me tight, but we can do better than that. I lace my fingers through hers and take her tighter, owning her fingers the way I want to claim the rest of her body.

“I wasn't looking at the time, but I can't deny what's right in front of me, precious and pure. I'm pleased to announce I've found my future wife, and the kingdom's next Princess.” I wait for stunned murmurs to whisper through the crowd before I continue. “Erin Warwick and I are engaged. We're due to be wed this winter, shortly before Christmas.”

I see Erin in my peripheral vision. Her eyes are huge.

We are? She knows I've just taken a piss on grandmom's conditions, setting a firm date nobody else knows about.

The room explodes. Every reporter jumps up, going completely apeshit. The next time I speak into the mic, I have to raise my voice, watching as Serena scrambles desperately through the rows of press, trying to restore some order with threats about throwing them out.

My guards have closed in, prepped for trouble, however unlikely.

“I'll be taking your questions for the next few minutes, once you're ready to quiet down.”

That does it. Slowly, haltingly, the wild animals get back in their seats and shut the fuck up. That is, until the first one stands up, practically jumping out of her heels to flag me down.

“Your Highness! Isn't this happening very fast? How could you decide to marry her after only knowing her for a few days?”

“Prince Silas – over here! Does the Queen know and approve? What's she said about all this?”

“Prince, Prince, Prince! Does Miss Warwick know the first thing about this kingdom, or what she's getting herself into? She's barely been here a week, for Christ's sake!”

“Please, please. One at a time.” I hold my hands up patiently like I'm talking to excitable children. “It's true this is happening very fast. There's no good explanation, except for the fact that faith and love move in mysterious ways. I've had a better kindred spirit in Erin this past week than I've ever had in anyone else. There's only one answer I can give. When a man meets his soulmate, he just knows.”

I look at her. She's red as a damned beet from all the attention. Seeing her nervous expression, the way she sucks her little lip, douses the fire in my dick with kerosene.

I can't hold back. I snatch her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss it like I'm sucking her face.

A couple dozen phones and cameras fire like machine guns for the next thirty seconds. When I finally pull away, she's shaking. I put one arm around her, bringing her closer, steadying her.

“Erin? Why don't you take the next question, love? The one about the Queen...”

She shakes her head, but I push her toward the mic. Time to do her part, and show me I haven't made a giant mistake.

My hand drifts down her back, trying to calm her, stopping just shy of that sweet, round ass hiding beneath the dress.

“The Queen knows, and she agrees, ladies and gentleman,” she says very softly.

“Louder.” I whisper in her ear, letting my lips graze her skin when I pull back.

Fuck, she's burning up. Like a fever. Tempting me to make her body blaze a hundred degrees hotter.

“Her Majesty approves!” she says, this time louder, shouting over the commotion. “And I think I deserve a little more credit than you're giving me. It's true that I'm not a subject of Saint Moore's by birth, but I've been reading about this island and the royal family for years. Coming here was a dream, whatever else happened with my father. It's been a bigger dream than anything I could've imagined, meeting my future husband, the love of my life. I'm going to marry this man next to me, His Royal Highness, and I don't care if anybody wants to question it. They'll see the truth, in time.”

“Very bold.” I whisper in her ear again, this time more loudly, while the journalists break into another mad bout of jeering questions and cheers.

This time, the guards move in. A reporter from outside the capital shoves a man wearing a French tricolor on his press badge, and all hell starts breaking loose.

It only takes one brief flash of a taser to make the rest of them settle the fuck down. All eight guards in my personal entourage, plus several more palace security members, patrol each row like sheepdogs, herding the journalists into their seats.

“This is what you wanted a career in?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up.” She's careful to lean away from the mic, elbowing me in the stomach softly.

I'm so ripped I barely even feel it. Technically, she's just committed assault on her royal fiance, and I don't even care.

It just makes my dick throb harder. I lean in, wrapping one arm around her waist, bringing her into me.

I see her reflection in the teleprompter next to us. I never even use the fucking thing, but it's there for notes when formal speeches happen up here.

Right now, it gives me a perfect view of her face.

She's smiling through her nervousness. The redness has settled into her cheeks, painting them with a rosy hue – the kind I imagine she wears after she's come herself breathless.

“Miss Warwick! Prince Silas!” A bitch I recognize stands up. It's Eva Patina, an award winning shit stirrer from Ireland, notorious for giving celebrities hell across the continent. “I want to know one thing – what's really going on here? You can't expect the whole world to believe in this love at first sight charade. She looks like she's barely into this – barely into you, Your Highness. How much did you pay her?”

Fuck. Eva smiles her world eating grin, flashing her overly perfect teeth, framed in expensive ruby lipstick. She has an uncanny knack for seeing right through me, and everybody else unlucky enough to take her stupid questions.

“How much?” I step up to the mic, tightening my hold on Erin. “How about this much?”

Time to fight fire with fire, and give my own dick a little relief before it burns through my pants.

Erin gasps a little as I tip her back, grab her neck, and bring her into my kiss. Feeling her lips on mine makes me see white.

Goddamn, she tastes good. Everything I've imagined is there, tasting her. They're naked, raw, and perfect. She isn't wearing anything over them, a refreshing change from the glammed up whores and low swinging royalty I've had since my balls dropped.

This kiss is pure.

This kiss tastes like sugar and whiskey begging to slide down my throat.

This kiss slams my cock into a whole new universe of desire.

Here, now, there's just Erin and me. All the screaming, frenzied fights in the press corps, people climbing over each other like cats, fighting for the best angle to get our kiss on film forever fades away.

Three seconds in, she moans into my mouth. Her lips go slack, and she stops fighting.

She's giving in, surrendering her mouth to mine, giving into me. My hands roam up her back, while the digits on my other hand squeeze her neck gently. Every cell in my body wants to show her what's coming if she just opens up, surrenders a little more.

And fuck, she does. Her lips part, perfectly and irresistibly for my tongue.

Her tits crush flush against my chest. I can practically feel her nipples there behind the fabric, hard as stones, begging to be sucked soft.

I wonder what it'd feel like to slide my oiled cock between her tits and shoot off in her mouth.

The same warm, sweet mouth that's pulsing underneath mine. My tongue sinks past her lips, anchors against hers, and takes control. Both our bodies twitch when the intimate kiss deepens, sending lightning through us.

I don't know how long we're up there, in front of the entire kingdom. Lips and tongues locked and moving like two horny teenagers. I don't know, and I don't fucking care.

All I'm thinking about is moving my hand down to her breast, and putting the other on her ass, squeezing them both at once.

I'm going to, when the earpiece I'm wearing chirps loudly.

Vic cuts in, ruining our first kiss. “Sire! The situation has become too unruly out here. The full security apparatus is coming to reinforce us, but we can't guarantee your safety. We have to move.”

Damn it. I'm growling as I break away, catching Erin's soft eyes, suddenly as surprised as mine.

I'm holding her as I take a good, long look around.

Fucking hell. The press conference has collapsed into complete chaos. Half my entourage is on the floor, wrestling with reporters, while several angry bastards hurl loud insults at each other. A couple pick up the closest chairs, and let them fly.

I turn my back, using my body to shield Erin, in case anyone loses their mind and starts throwing shit at the stage. “Come on. Victor isn't kidding about this situation. Let's move.”

It's a complete shit show on the way out. Several reporters have broken rank in the commotion, climbed over the ropes they're never supposed to cross. Somewhere behind me, I hear Serena arguing loudly with a woman.

Three crazed reporters stand between us and the door. I stop and stand up, looking them dead in the eye.

“Move, or I'm going to flatten all your asses.”

“Your Highness, please, just a few more questions!”

They can't be fucking serious. They're all foreigners, wearing flags from other countries on their badges, so my royal aura has little effect on them.

I don't know where Victor or any of my guards have gone. I tell Erin to hold on tight while I charge through the three greedy bastards blocking our exit, standing in front of the door backstage, their arms out.

My body blows them down like bowling pins. Erin's racing behind me, doing her best not to trip in those clogs, looking desperately over her shoulder. Several more assholes are chasing us.

She stops, spins around, and slams the door shut as hard as she can. I look back and nod, motioning with my hand.

“Can you run?” I yell.

“In this thing? Are you kidding me?” she looks down, eyes big and scared. The outfit has become a damned prison.

Without saying anything, I rush over, scoop her up in my arms, and go. Behind us, there's something huge and heavy hitting the metal door.

They're using a goddamned battering ram.

It's only going to be a matter of time until they break through.

I'm transported back to the fields outside Kandahar. I remember my last mission, when three good men got themselves killed. They started shelling us as soon as we landed, destroying our transport chopper.

We were stranded. Pinned down. Running on nothing except the basest survival instinct.

The very same instinct kicks in now. Except, this is different because I'm carrying a woman who's clinging to me, a woman I want to fuck, seed, and own in the most carnal ways.

Charging through the nearest exit outside, I hope to find more guards waiting with our SUV down below. I see it – only, it's hiding behind a huge throng of assholes pouring in from downtown.

They've seen the commotion by now on social media. I won't be surprised to see #palaceriot trending all over the damned place, assuming I get out of this alive.

The crowd sees us, recognizes us, and starts moving in. Erin turns her head, takes one look, and screams.

“Silas! We need to get out of here!”

“Tell me something I don't already know, Princess.” I need a second to think. “Hold on to me as tight as you can. It might be hell getting out of here.”

Might? I know it's going to be.

I only see one weakness – a thin gap between two bigger, older men filming with their phones as they close in. Several older women surround them. It's a group I know I can push through if I really need to.

Yeah, I do. I give it everything I've got, shoving our way through them.

Wrapping my arms around Erin as tight as I can, I ignore the jeers exploding around us.

“Prince! Prince Silas! We looooove you!”

That's about the nicest thing I hear. Several angry protesters are in the mix, assholes who want to overturn the monarchy. They won't think twice about grabbing us, humiliating us, or worse.

“There's the fucking bastard! Spending even more of our hard earned money on his engagement – as if his parties and booze aren't enough! You going to let him, lads?”

“No! No, no, no!”

Shit's about to get serious. I take off, heading for the weakness I saw, away from the dangerous assholes calling for my head.

I may have fucked off half my history classes, but I know damned well what happens to Kings, Queens, and Princes when would-be revolutionaries smell blood. I'm not dying out here, ripped apart by an angry mob, while poor Erin gets caught in the middle.

The need to protect her supercharges my blood. I feel like I'm on fire as I crash through several skinny arms, bowling over several people, and then I keep going.

I don't let up. Not even when I realize I'm running straight into gunfire.

Shit, shit, shit. Things are really fucking bad out here, if they've brought out the guns.

How the hell did this ridiculous press conference lead to the opening shots in a civil war? At this rate, I'll be lucky to flee the country before they stick my head through the guillotine.

People start fleeing, blurring by us. Erin has her little face buried in my chest, but she's screaming just the same. Can't blame her, hearing the world fall apart around us, shattered in a hail of screams and bullets.

“Prince Silas, sir!” A loud voice screams out ahead, just as I'm starting to lose my sight. We're almost to the curb. “Down here!”

Several soldiers have set up a protective ring around what's left of our motorcade. The motorcycles have been knocked over, replaced by Humvees and armored cars. Vic looks up behind the troops, relief spreading across his face when he sees me.

About half a dozen soldiers shove the crowd, opening a space just wide enough for us to jump through, closing it the instant we're climbing inside the SUV. I hear them start shooting.

Our SUV takes off, flanked by the military vehicles. I'm wondering if I'm about to see the beginning of the end of my kingdom. Except the rioters wouldn't fall down so unnaturally like that, without a drop of blood spilling out.

Smoke rises around the palace. It's tear gas, rubber bullets, and water cannons.

Standard riot control stuff.

Not live bullets after all, thank God.

“Jesus.” She slumps back in her seat when we're finally freed from the danger zone, racing across town. “Did you have any idea this was going to happen?”

“No.” I'm telling her the truth. “It's gotten heated a few times before at the palace, but it's never devolved into a full scale riot. There's something else going on here, and I'm going to find out what.”

“I can't believe you're shooting them...”

“They're damned lucky it's not real ammunition,” I tell her, wondering why she's defending these animals.

The people are one thing. I'd never want shots going into innocent bystanders, even the curious ones who should know better than to be there. But the protesters...the Republic fucking Firsters...they don't care who they hurt. Why should I mind if they catch lead between the eyes?

“Look, they're breaking up the riot with all the non-lethal force the kingdom has to muster. Every man in uniform knows there's going to be hell to pay if they reach the Queen's doorstep.”

Fuck, grandmom. For the first time since we got into the vehicle, I'm worried.

“Surely, they're as surprised as you, Silas. I don't think anybody can be blamed for this insanity.”

I ignore her. Instead, I tap the glass separating us from the driver. A second later, it goes down, and I see the man looking at us in the mirror.

“Your Highness?”

“What's the situation at the palace? I want constant updates.”

Victor sits in the passenger seat up front. “I'm receiving them now. Secondary blockades are closing off the nearest streets, and the crowd is slowly dispersing. Rest assured that all the rioters with press badges will have them permanently stripped. They'll be blacklisted, Your Highness. I'm deeply sorry for this, we should've vetted everyone who stepped into the event, short notice or not.”

I look at Erin. There's something about her sweet, pure face that actually causes my anger to weaken.

“Don't be sorry,” I growl through the opening. “You couldn't have known, Vic. None of us did. It's got to be the damned Republic Firsters. A rat on the inside. Probably that Patina bitch. They'll do anything to make the family look bad, even when we're bringing the kingdom good news.”

“Rest assured there'll be a full investigation, my Prince, as soon as the situation is under control.” Vic bows his head.

I don't say another word. The glass panel rises, and we're left alone.

If I've ever needed a drink, it's now. Next to me, Erin looks like she's losing it, her face criss-crossed with a thousand kinds of confusion.

She flinches when I reach over, grabbing her hand. “Do you think we've made a mistake?”

“Mistake? Bullshit.” I shake my head. “It won't happen again, love. I don't give a shit if we have to flee to the mountains and have our wedding there. Nobody's unwinding this clock. I wanted you before, for all the reasons we've discussed, and now I want you at the altar a hundred times more.”

Her big brown eyes light up when they widen. Rich, electric, and fuckable. My cock stirs to life, wanting to make them roll back in her head, and feel those scared little lips on mine again.

“What now? We both know it's going to be a disaster in the media. Probably an international one.”

“Yeah, it will be. They can fucking suck it,” I growl. “Don't worry. A stern word from Her Majesty will put the kingdom right. She always comes on TV when it gets bad enough, and I'd say this warrants it. She'll put the Republic assholes in their place, and then some. They're used to beating up on me and my dad, when he was still around, but this is different. Nobody insults Her Royal Majesty. Next time we talk to the press, they'll be lucky if they aren't wearing handcuffs, looking at us through bullet proof glass with their beady little eyes...”

She laughs. I can tell she isn't sure if I'm serious or not.

Hell, I don't know if I am.

“What's so funny – the handcuffs? Didn't know you were that sort of girl, love. For the record, I'd enjoy seeing you with your hands cuffed to the nearest bed, a pair of gold clamps softening up your nipples for my tongue.”

I fucking mean it, too. Can't resist telling her. It earns me another slap, clean across the face, and I'm smiling at her through the blistering burn spreading across my cheek.

“Glad I can help you work it out of your system, beautiful.”

“You're ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes sourly, too tired for another hit. “Just tell me where we're going? I can't imagine there's any place that'll be safe for us in the whole city.”

“No, you're right. We're heading for the summer palace. That's the protocol when a shitstorm blows in. The Queen, she won't leave for nothing short of a nuclear war. You and me? We're going to the country while things calm down. We can deal with the fallout there.”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

Just okay? Fuck me.

Nothing's okay at the moment.

For the first time since we got our pretend engagement on, I'm feeling a pang of guilt. A normal person would let it take over, making them wonder if they've fumbled something terrible, dragging a down-on-her-luck foreign girl into this royal mess.

Not me. Prince Silas Bearington the Third doesn't make mistakes.

We're going to the summer palace, and we're going to unwind. We'll write up our statements while the wedding planning gets underway. We'll let grandmom, her courtesans, and bitchy Serena deal with the press nightmare.

More importantly, I'll have plenty of peace and quiet to explore my new wife. Find out what buttons to press to make her relax. And I'll put a fucking stake through the hearts of every evil doubt she's got running through her right now.

I'm going to have my wife, my Princess, come hell or high water. This will work the way it should.

If the stars align, I'm going to fuck her, too. No bullshit. I'll seduce this girl, and she'll learn to love it.

Yes, it's insane, it's suicidal, it's a thousand mistakes rolled into one, but I'm going to try.

I'm convincing myself this mad thing between us is real so no one will doubt it again, much less those jackoff reporters.

Believe. Straight down to the taste of her pussy while her legs are tossed over my shoulders. Just thinking about that warmth and wetness trembling beneath my tongue makes my cock want to spit fire.

I'm going to know every single inch of her. Whatever it takes to throw this clusterfuck of an engagement back in grandmom's face, and then I'll do the same with the other 4,999,999 people in the kingdom doubting us.

This is my once in a lifetime chance to prove myself, to save our kingdom, and show this woman that I will never, ever let a disaster come down on her head.

She won't walk away from me, disgraced and disappointed. Erin Warwick isn't going anywhere until I've fucked her senseless first.