She's gone, gone, gone like a fucking ghost, and it's all my fault.

Nobody knows where she rushed off to. I couldn't go after her when that bitch, Serena, was still standing there throwing barbs, threatening to ignite a new stroke in grandmom's poor brain with every evil word.

Her Majesty let her say her piece – her load of total bullshit. Then security escorted her out.

All while I stood there like a chump. Frozen.

Paralyzed like I haven't been since facing the damned war, except even mortar blasts never turned me to stone.

I'm back at the palace in my private office, staring at the bottle of scotch laid out on my desk, next to the crystal glass. My fingers shake so much each time I take a good, long look, imagining how good it'll feel to have the familiar heat in my guts. I grab myself by the wrist, clenching my teeth, snarling like a wild beast.

“No. No, goddamn it. You're going to find her, and you're not falling back on bad habits. She can't be gone.”

But she is.

It doesn't matter if security tells me exactly where she's gone over the next few hours. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, my woman pushed over the edge by forces she can't control. Leaving me here to my tower, just like some dark Prince in a fucking fairy tale.

Those stories have happy endings, at least. Once she's outside the island's airspace, my power is limited. I'll never be able to bring her home without causing an international incident. I can't anyway, after Serena turned our whole royal world upside down.

Drinking won't fix this.

Hell, not even grabbing that traitorous bitch by the throat and squeezing the life out of her will solve anything at this point.

Nothing besides feeling Erin's perfect, pink lips under mine is going to make it all right again.

The drug I need isn't here on this desk, taunting me in the face because it used to solve my problems, and doesn't do shit anymore.

Growling, my arm swings through the air, pushing the scotch and glass onto the floor, along with an antique clock and several paper weights.

My raging heart won't stop pounding. I have to make sure I'm not hallucinating when I hear the faint rap at the door.

“It's open,” I say, sitting back in my seat, adjusting my tie.

Vic slinks in like a scorned cat, pausing when he sees the mess. “Your Highness – is everything all right?”

“You know the answer,” I growl. “Send in whoever to clean this up when you're finished. I'm done having my temper tantrum, I'm sure.”

I motion to the seat across from me. Victor takes it, stepping carefully over the shattered glass.

My arms press against the desk, and I stare at him, the words I want to say burning my tongue. “You know where she is, don't you? Tell me.”

“She took off in a private jet this evening, sire. Chartered, rather than royal. The plane was heading for Mexico, I'm told, surely so she can join her father at his treatment center. No one thought to freeze her access to the accounts, seeing as we were otherwise preoccupied...”

“Yeah, with making sure Her Majesty didn't die on the fucking spot after everything that bitch said.”

“Indeed.” Vic nods, eerily calm, and pulls an envelope from his pocket.

My eyes shift down, watching as he slides it over to me. My fists and jaw clench simultaneously before I pick it up, rip it open, and pull out the lengthy typed letter. It only takes me thirty seconds to scan it before I've got the gist – and I don't like it.

“You're not quitting on me,” I tell him, slamming it back down on the ivory surface.

“Your Highness, we both know that's the most reasonable course of action. Perhaps my departure will make things easier for the crown, legally speaking, in the matter Miss Hastings plans to bring forward. My mistake provided her with ample fire to burn the palace to the ground. I can't live with that. I've failed you, my Prince, and I fear I'll never recover from these grotesque missteps.”

I almost snort. The only thing that looks grotesque right now is how pale and dead his face is. It takes balls to hand in your notice at a job that's your whole reason for living.

“Sire, if you'll permit, I'll do my very best to find someone worthy of this position so this never, ever happens –“

“Enough.” Pulling the paper off the desk, I tear it neatly in half, crumple both halves, and throw them in the basket at my feet. “You're not going anywhere, Vic. It was an honest mistake. One I forced on you by setting up this arranged marriage. When I told you to help her old man, it wasn't real between us. Not at first. Believe me, man, it's worth more than my own damned crown now.”

He looks at me and nods, a faint smile lining his lips. “As you wish, Your Highness. I'll serve you faithfully.”

“Yeah? Then start by finding Serena and bringing her ass back here for a talk.”

My valet blinks, surprised, shaking his head.

“You heard me. I want to set this crap right once and for all. Nothing illegal – we've already done plenty of that.” My fists clench, wishing I hadn't passed on the scotch. “I need to talk to her. Alone. I'm going to find out how much it costs to make a deal with the devil.”

After a moment, Victor nods. “I'll keep it as quiet as I can, sire. A security detail will be going out shortly to find Miss Hastings and bring her here.”

“Good. I'll meet you both downstairs. Tell me as soon as she's arrived,” I say, watching as he stands up to leave. “And Victor...I want you to speak more freely now, man to man, instead of reminding me I'm your master all the time. We've known each other too many years, worked under the same roof. It's high time you started calling me Silas.”

“Of course, if that's your wish...Silas.”

I wait until the door closes before I smile. He could barely choke out my name.

Some things in this world just aren't going to change.

Doesn't matter. I won't let Erin go without bringing the greatest fight of my life.

I didn't give up booze and pussy to quit my whole reason for getting off them, and starting to live for the first time in my life. I need my woman, my love, my princess. God willing, I'm bringing her home, whatever it takes.

* * *

Several hours later, I'm pacing slowly on the patio overlooking the royal gardens, one more place where this unlikely love poached my heart like a lion ripping into an antelope.

I don't look behind me until I hear the door open. Then I whip around and see Vic with several guards, standing in front of the bitch herself.

“Give us some privacy, boys,” I say, motioning Vic to the corner, to stay outside. “Serena, take a seat.”

She looks at me haughtily, colder than the icy late summer night. I don't see that man-eating smile on her face until she sits down, relishing in the power she thinks she's got.

“Well, I didn't think my message had actually sunk in. Have you finally come to your senses, Silas – or will we be seeing each other in front of a royal judge next time?”

“You've schemed this entire thing, and it's all bullshit,” I say, glaring. “I'm not here to play games. I want your terms, short and sweet, so I can forget about this and work on bringing my girl home.”

Her face sours. Unmistakable jealousy.

Christ.

She still wants me at some level. My guts twist in disgust.

Sure, I've woken up with that what the hell were you thinking? feeling more mornings than I care to count. When I remember fucking the woman sitting across from me with her evil grin and pointy witch heels, it's visceral.

“You're going after her? After she's ruined you, and the drama she's brought threatens a fifteen hundred year old dynasty?”

“Yeah. Already told you, Serena, I'm bringing her home. That's what you don't get. She's mine. All your threats, your nastiness, every damned legal decree on the planet – none of it's going to stop me from going after her. They're nothing in the face of love.”

“Love?” She whips her head around and spits it out like a curse. “You? Prince Playboy in love? You've lost your mind, Silas. I'm not stupid. I can't believe this, and I don't have to trust a word of it. You're not playing me a second time. Look, I know you took this girl on to improve your image after the Queen suggested it. We talked about it together. We put the same idea in your head. If only I'd known it would've taken on this absurd life of its own!”

“Nobody's getting played tonight except me because I'm offering you a deal,” I say, stepping toward her. “Sometimes, you get blindsided when you least expect it. I brought Erin in for reputation management, business, it's true...and that all ended awhile ago. We found love. What we've got, after spending so much time together, it's real.”

Real. The demon in front of me pinches her eyes shut like I've just driven a dagger in her chest.

“Do you really want to know what I want, Silas? Or did you just bring me here for torture?”

“Told you, I want a deal. Whatever the fuck it takes to make you drop this lawsuit and never hear from you again. Name a price,” I growl, hoping like hell she finally will.

“Forget that stupid American bitch! How about that? You obviously don't care who you get to play Princess. Do it with me, instead. Make me your bride. I'll play along with anything you want – the drinking, the parties, the women – anything and everything. Just as long as you take me and forget all about her!”

Fuck. I'm taken aback. The crazy in this woman's eyes shines brighter than the moon.

“I can't believe this.” I shake my head. It was a big fucking mistake bringing her here, thinking I could reason with her.

“No!” Serena comes closer. “It's not too late, Silas. You can get yourself out of this, do something for both of us. You can –“

“I'm not marrying you, bitch. Unless you want to name a price in dollars, Euros, or fucking rubles, the deal's off. We're through tonight, and forever.”

Her face goes bright red. It looks like there's shame heating her blood, but I don't think this woman is self-aware enough to feel embarrassment.

“You're making a huge mistake, Prince. I won't let you live this down. You want to marry her? Fine! You can do it with nothing left to your name except millions in debt, and your crown in the gutter. That's where you really belong.” Raw anger hisses out her lips. “I truly thought you were better than this. Silas, you're a stupid man. A monster.”

“And you're a fucking lunatic, Serena. I've got everything on the line, and I'm going to fight. You want to talk stupid? That's trying to blackmail a Bearington by thinking I'd ever let you get anywhere near the throne.”

I barely hear her scream before she rushes me. Then there's a whirlwind of little fists beating against my chest. Her heels kick me in the shins while I try to grab her.

She's hitting me with her purse, reaching into it. She's so skinny and quick it's hard to get a hold. I don't want to hurt her, much as my baser instincts would like to.

I grab her, fold one arm around her stomach when she's turned away from me, just as she screams, reaching into her purse.

Something sharp scrapes my arm when she flails again. I don't have to time to see what, because Victor is on us, ahead of several guards.

“Miss Hastings! Let go! For God's sake, you can't assault the Crown Prince of Saint Moore! You must –“

He makes a sad, strained sound. I've finally got a lock on the bitch, knocking that little metal thing in her hands to the ground. It's hard to see in the darkness, but it looks like a brass keychain made to wrap around the knuckles for self-defense.

I notice the red spot spreading in Victor's abdomen about a second before he tumbles to the ground.

“Shit, Vic!” The guards catch up to us then, thank fuck. “Get this bitch out of here!”

She's still snarling like a wild animal, throwing every obscenity in the book at me, while they drag her out. I hit the ground, pressing my hand over the valet's wound.

Damn it, there's blood.

A lot of blood. I'm roaring like a lion for a doctor, vowing the bitch is going to pay big for what she's done.

“Your Highness...Silas...don't let me fail you again. I can't –“

“You haven't failed me in anything, friend. You just took a psycho's blade that was meant for me. That's doing more for me than any of these slow goddamned guards.”

He isn't speaking anymore. Blood keeps leaking all over my hands, and suddenly I'm back in Afghanistan, covering my Lieutenant's gash from a mortar round.

Everything goes numb in my head, like I'm detached, watching somebody else. There's nothing except my hands trying to stop precious life from leaking out of his veins, shaking him every few seconds, trying to keep this man awake and alive.

Medics show, seemingly out of nowhere. I step aside, my hands covered in gore. I won't go back into the palace until they've got him out, on his way to an ambulance.

If Vic dies, I swear to holy hell I'm going to tear that cunt's head off myself.

They're hoisting him up on a stretcher, rolling him back through the greenhouse, when I see someone who should not be here.

No, two very out of place someones. Serena stands there in plastic handcuffs, held by two guards, glaring hatefully at me. Like I didn't just stop her from tearing my servant's throat out.

The other person is Her Majesty. Grandmom looks like she's just woken up, standing in a regal white flowing gown, without a single piece of jewelry on her royal skin.

“What's the meaning of this, Silas?”

My fucking heart sinks. This night couldn't get any worse. Oh, except for having to admit that I'd tried to strike a deal with Serena Hastings behind her back.

“I tried to talk to Serena,” I tell her, not knowing where the hell I should begin. “Things went bloody crazy. She attacked me, and stabbed Victor.”

“You're telling her I struck first, you bastard, after everything you said?!” Serena screams against the wall, beyond deranged. “It was self-defense! I'd do it all over again! I swear, I'll –“

“Get her the fuck out here!” I roar to the guards, wishing it were just as easy to dismiss this whole evil situation.

“Belay that order,” Her Majesty snaps. “She isn't going anywhere until you tell me exactly what's going on in my palace, Silas.”

I'm screwed. If I hide the truth, it's only going to piss her off more, and that might tip her health into the red zone.

The truth, that's all I have, the only thing that hasn't been shot to shit by the last twenty-four hours.

Okay.

“We know what happened at tea, grandmom. Erin's gone. Dealing with this bitch ripped her heart out, sent her running to Mexico, to be with her father. Can't blame her, honestly. I pushed this on her. In the beginning, this whole wedding was going to be a fraud.” I pause, watching as my grandmother's matching blue eyes go huge. “It isn't that way anymore, Your Majesty. I swear on every single thing I've got. We were just playing pretend, Erin and me, a selfish plan I hatched to save my image. I took your advice, and I wanted to take the pressure off you so the kingdom would think I'd be fit for the crown someday.”

I take another breath. Every drop of blood running through my veins feels like it's on fire. I wonder if anyone's ever spontaneously self-combusted from a confession before.

“Go on.” That's all she says, tapping her exuberant cane against the stone floor.

Fuck, why isn't she saying anything? I clear my throat and do as she asks.

“I know it was wrong. Just like the way I tried to bring Serena here. I tried to negotiate some way to pay her off tonight so she'd leave us all alone.” I close the distance between grandmom and me, never breaking eye contact. “They say love causes people to act like idiots. I didn't understand that until just recently. After our pretend engagement became real, little by little. I'm going after her, Your Majesty. Nothing means more to me now.”

Boom. Right between the eyes. I'm amazed my grandmother remains silent.

“Do whatever you need to. No hard feelings. I'll resign my crown, my title, give up every damned Euro and dollar in my accounts. You can make my cousin in Sealesland heir to the throne, and I'll never step foot on this island again. I'm sorry as hell to leave Serena and her crap on your plate, grandmom, but I'm not sure what she can do after cutting into Vic like that. I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. I have to go soon.”

“Silas...shut up.” She blinks, letting out a sigh that sounds like she's been holding it in for fifty years. “There's an awful lot I'll never understand about you. If the last twenty-five years have taught me anything, it's that. But I do understand a man and woman in love, as well as an intruder in the way. There's nothing more to explain, son. You're free.”

Her old, bony hand lands gently on my shoulder. Free?

“Find her. Bring her back. She'll make a beautiful Princess for this kingdom, and you're going to make a better King than I'd believed, one day.” Her head turns, focusing her gaze on Serena, up against the wall. “I'll deal with this despicable traitor myself. You, boy, follow your heart.”

I'm smiling. Leave it to the royal wannabe bitch in the corner to kill the mood.

“That's it? Are you fucking kidding me? You're mad! All of you! The Republic First idiots are right. This crown deserves to fall, for the good of the country. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that happens – just watch!”

Nobody moves except grandmom. I watch her, heading for Serena and the guards at a slow hobble. I barely hear what she whispers to Dean and the other boys until I step up.

“Turn her around, please,” Her Majesty says.

Serena won't stop seething. She's disrespecting everything she ever swore to serve. Fucking hypocrite.

I'm standing by, hoping grandmom knows what she's doing, dangerously close to this psychopath. Serena opens her mouth to bitch again, but nothing ever comes out.

Her Majesty's soft, wrinkled hand slaps our ex-press secretary across the face. It echoes through the greenhouse like a gunshot.

Everybody stops, stares in shock. I hope those guards remembered to keep their grip on the asshole.

“I've had enough of your mouth!” Grandmom says, turning to Dean. “Take her to the auxiliary holding area. We'll deal with the police report there. I'm going to come clean to the ministers about everything that's happened here tonight, but I'd like to make certain Miss Hastings doesn't set one foot onto the streets until she has a qualified doctor and a parole officer assigned.”

“Auxiliary holding area?” Dean looks at the other guard, smiling. “Right away, Your Majesty!”

That's the formal name for the five hundred year old dungeon underneath the palace. An off-the-books prison that isn't supposed to be used except for overflow in times of war or national crisis.

Serena doesn't even spill any more venom as they're hauling her out. I think we're all too stunned to do anything. Grandmom slowly turns to me, leaning on her cane, like slapping Serena has sapped her energy.

“Why are you still standing there, Silas? Don't you know where your lady has gone?”

“I have a good idea,” I say, walking up to her while Patricia comes out the door and grabs my grandmom by the arm, helping steady her.

“Take the first royal jet you see to Mexico, then. I'll handle the rest of this nasty, nasty business.”

I nod, more than ready to head for the airport. But I stop first, and throw my arms around the old woman.

We've always been distant. That's the way it is between a royal living legend, and a man who hasn't been fit to fill her throne until just recently.

But tonight, we're family. One and the same.

We're Bearingtons. Always just, savage when we need to be, and determined as the mythic eagle stamped on my chest until the day I die.

* * *

It's a resort. I'm on the highest level, overlooking the cancer treatment center, an unassuming facility at the edge of this luxury circus.

It's taken me several days since landing to find out where she is. Special intelligence had to track her down at my request because she'd chosen a small hostel outside the resort zone.

Smart, if she wants to disappear completely. It costs me and my men some effort.

I could've confronted her at the hospital, sure, but the visiting hours are always irregular. And the last first impression I want to make on her old man is seeing me begging her to come back.

That's right. Prince Silas Bearington III, ex-soldier, badass, biggest swinging dick in Europe, is ready to do whatever it takes to tear my heart out and hand it to the woman I love. Even if it means crawling to her on my hands and knees.

I can't lose this girl. I can't fuck this up.

I can't go home without her.

I won't walk away, even if I have to spend years in the Americas convincing her we're meant to be together.

My small, but devoted security detail would never let me slip into city without them. But I do it anyway, taking a taxi. I keep my t-shirt and my shades pulled tight, praying nobody will recognize a billionaire Prince among them.

Thankfully, there's not as much celeb gossip here as the States.

The taxi driver stops in front of a dirty, ancient looking building. He mutters a few words in Spanish, telling me the price and wishing me well.

I pop the door, stuffing the biggest tip he's ever gotten into his hand on the way out. He calls after me, wondering if it's a mistake or I'm positively loco. I don't bother stopping.

It's early morning, just after five o'clock. Nothing's stopping me.

The place isn't as dirty inside, but it's not exactly up to Western standards either. Instead of rooms, people are gathered in huge wards by gender, with privacy curtains to pull shut at night.

The woman at the desk can't give me a precise spot where I'll find Erin. She turns her nose up, though, muttering about that wounded American girl, the one who's kept several other girls up at night with her crying.

I've come to the right place. I creep into the women's section, careful to only take the quickest peek behind the curtains. Stealth combat training comes in handy here. I'm still expecting one of them to see me for a second too long, and wake up the whole room screaming.

I see her as soon as I peel back the last little curtain in the corner. I'd know that body I've had wrapped around me anywhere.

Fuck, she's beautiful. She's sleeping, the faintest morning light seeping through the curtain, falling across her dark hair. I push past it and wait there until she stirs.

At first, she doesn't see me. When I move my hand up to rub my face, she jumps, jerking up flat against the headboard.

“Silas? You can't be here!”

“Believe it, Princess. I've come for what's mine.” I step up to the bed, pulling her into my arms.

She's too stunned to fight for the first few seconds. Then she starts twisting like mad, wriggling away, throwing me off.

“What the hell's wrong with you, love? Sorry about the surprise. Didn't have much choice.”

Her tits look like ripe fruits swinging in that gown. My dick swells for the first time in what feels like forever, begging for the pussy it's craving something fierce.

“No. You're not supposed to be here. You can't be. I'm going home to LA with dad in just a few days. He's about to be discharged.”

Folding my arms, I smile through the dim light. “He's cured? Great. I knew the magnificent bastards here would come through for him. Guess I'll be booking a flight to LA next, too.”

Those lips I want to ravish all day drop. Her sweet head shakes, amusement and sadness written all over her face in one warring symphony.

“No. No, Silas. This is crazy. I left Saint Moore behind, and I left you, too.” She looks up, tears wavering in her big brown eyes. “I can't be responsible for tearing that place apart. It isn't my country. Whatever else we had, I corrupted you. I set you up for doing dumb things that let Serena weasel her way into threats. No more.”

“You're wrong, love. Serena's been dealt with. The crazy bitch tried to stab me, missed, and hit Victor instead. She's done.” While she's staring at me all shocked, I throw my arm around her tighter, pulling her into my embrace. “He's okay. Recovering at the royal hospital. Lost a lot of blood.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Grandmom's going to come clean about the money that was moved around. I'd bet everything that nobody in the parliament has the balls to say boo about it. Anybody running for election has done a hundred times worse, and the Queen's popularity has never been higher.”

“What about yours? Does the kingdom know anything?”

I pause. “They know you haven't been seen for a few days. They know the former press secretary stormed out of tea with us. The tabloids are starting to bark, saying our wedding's off, that the whole thing was a fickle fucking sham from the start. Look at me, Erin.”

I tilt her face up. She's crying now, biting her lip, shaking her head weakly. She's telling me no, no, no, fighting her basest instincts.

Ask me if I care. I'm going to remind her what we have, take her home with me, and show her why she's never running away again.

“I don't care how rough it gets. I'd dump my crown for you, love, without hesitation. What started on a lie, it's too damned real to give up. We both know it.”

She's too hurt. Too conflicted. She still won't look at me.

I push my fingers gently into her jaw line, tip her face up, until she finally opens those beautiful eyes. Mine lock on like hawks, holding her gaze, showing her the want.

I'm not afraid to open up anymore. I'm showing her what no woman's ever seen, the gnawing want for her, blazing down to my very soul.

“Erin...”

“Silas...I can't. It's wrong. We're not right for each other...I realize that now. We're too different. It's never going to change, not in a hundred million years. We don't belong together. I know it, and I think you do, too.”

“Enough. You're wrong, love, and I'm going to prove it. Kiss me, then tell me what you just said isn't bullshit.”

I don't give her time to turn away. My lips crush down on hers, hungrier than they've ever been, relishing the sugary sweetness of her lips like it's the last time.

Because if I can't convince her, it might be.

I might be going back to Saint Moore empty-fucking-handed.

No. No! I won't let that happen, no matter how much heaven and hell I have to pay.

Our tongues touch. I take hers, twine it around mine, feeling the same electric heat we had the very first time. We're reliving every kiss in this one.

Every fight. Every tease. Every night we ever fucked, plus the very moment when fucking blurred into making love.

I used to hate that phrase, 'making love.' It sounds like some stupid flowery shit prudes use to convince themselves they aren't after just as much nasty, glorious pleasure as the rest of us.

But with her, the woman I have on my lips, I felt it a few times. I want – no, need – to feel it again. Have it over and over and over for the rest of my life.

It hurts like hell to pull my lips away, but I have to. Need to hear her answer. She's lost in my eyes again, too screwed up to speak.

“One word, babe. That's all you've got to tell me right now. Say you're coming home. Say we still have a wedding to go to. You want to be mine, I can see it shining clear as day in your eyes. Erin, love, it doesn't have to be complicated. Just tell me we can get past this, all the evil, stupid things that happened. We can be husband and wife. Prince and Princess. Real, not fake, so fucking real it seems like everything else in this world's a hollowed out ghost. You're feeling it, love, yeah? Tell me you are.”

It takes her a few seconds. Several terrible, heart wrenching seconds that almost turn my heart into a black mass of dripping tar.

Then she says it. “Yes! Okay, maybe we can make this work, you bastard. It hurts too much to lie. I love you.”

“Prince Bastard has a damned good ring to it, love, as long as that's what you're calling me in bed.”

“Better than Prince Hung,” she whispers.

The next time we kiss, I feel her smiling underneath my lips. This love tastes better than ever before.

* * *

A couple days later, we're planning to embark, returning to the kingdom, hand in hand. She's happy to be in my room and out of that cramped hostel. There's just one last unfinished item on the agenda waiting for us at the treatment center.

“Here we are again, Tom. You're holding all the cards for this interview, though, trust me,” I say, sitting next to my princess, holding her hand.

“Yeah, and they're all Jokers. Wilds. I still can't believe my daughter is about to marry a Prince. Right out of a fairy tale.”

Erin's father looks good for just surviving hell. He's lost some weight, looks like he could use some red meat to put color in his skin, but otherwise, he's doing better.

“Oh, daddy. It's surprisingly normal,” she says, squeezing my hand. “No glass slippers or evil witches here.”

I'm sure her dear old dad's read plenty in the tabloids and trash blogs. But he doesn't have a clue what we went through to get here, approaching our happily ever after, if only we can get his blessing.

“Your Highness, marriage aside, I owe you my life,” Tom says, nodding respectfully. “If it hadn't been for you, for this place, I doubt I'd be fit to see my daughter again. Much less walk her down the aisle. They do that in Saint Moore, don't they?”

I smile, straightening up in my chair. “We have our own traditions, yes, but there's plenty of room to make accommodations for the bride's family.”

“So, you're in, daddy?” she whispers excitedly, bouncing her knees a couple times.

We've spent the last two days fucking our brains out, catching up on what we've been missing. Damn if every gesture she makes, every movement rippling her curves, doesn't make my dick throb for more.

“LA can wait.” Tom stands up, without so much as a tremor, walking over to embrace her. “I'd be a fool if I weren't there to see you off. Also, to remind His Highness that he's going to have hell to pay if he ever hurts you, disappoints you, or screws you over. I don't care if I wind up in a dungeon for spilling blue blood.”

He gives me a sharp look. One I respect. I nod, pulling Erin's hand fully into my lap, protective as ever.

“It's just Silas now, Tom. No more of that Highness crap. Save your threats for somebody who needs them,” I say, bringing my woman's hand to my mouth. “I know my reputation. I've played around and shamed myself more times than anybody will ever know. All that's behind me now. The only woman I'll ever need is right here next to me. I'll make her happy if it kills me.”

My lips brush the back of her hand. They're both smiling, staring at me, making the whole room light up with more than just the hot, airy Mexican sun seeping through the windows.

“I know you will, son. I've done my share of interviews before the Big C laid me low, and there's a good chance I'll do some more. I know what a changed man looks like. I'm staring at one now.”

It's ridiculous, but Tom's words mean more than they should. He's right.

I've changed, and it's all for her. The old Prince Silas with his gold booze and endless pussy is never coming back. May he Rest In Peace.

The new Silas, the man I've become...well, his story's just getting started.

It's going to be fucking incredible.