My skin still tingled after he kissed me once more and strode back out the way we’d come to find champagne. I bit my lip, feeling the heated ghost of his touch on my skin, and the lingering spark of his kiss.

I shivered, hugging myself and grinning as I stepped through the shadows of the throne room. I still felt like I was being bad — like I was trespassing where I shouldn’t. And of course, I was, but then, I wasn’t worried about it anymore. I wasn’t worried about anything with Rourke. I felt protected, even when he wasn’t here. I felt unstoppable, and invincible, and untouchable, knowing that this powerful, confident, strong, steadfast man was at my back.

…Knowing I was his.

I traced the gilding on wall of the throne room as I moved towards the huge windows that looked out over the courtyard of King Lucian’s palace.

What was happening with Rourke was so much more than I ever thought it’d be. I mean, I’d known I was marrying him even before I met him. But royals married people all the time who they didn’t—

…The word “love” caught in my mind, making me grin and shiver as I bit my lip. People didn’t feel that word and still get married when they were royals. It was just part of the life I guess. And that’s what I’d expected would happen with my arranged marriage to a man I’d never met. I thought I’d marry him and then lock myself in my room forever. My family debts would be paid, and me a prisoner.

Except, that’s not at all how this was turning out. Not even close. Beyond the sex, and the way his touch ignited a raw fire inside of me, and beyond how he talked to me and made me feel so sexy and dirty, and wanted.

Beyond all of that, he touched something inside of me. He sparked something inside of me I’d never felt before. He made me yearn for more like nothing and no one ever had. With him, I wanted to see the world. With him, I wanted to dance in the rain in Paris, or get lost on a beach in the Pacific somewhere, or make out in the snow on top of a mountain.

…And just like that, I realized what I’d been tiptoeing around in my head. I was falling for my arranged marriage fiancé. No, not falling.

I’d fallen. I was head-over-heels completely and silly in love with Rourke.

The thought made me grin from ear to ear, and made every inch of my skin tingle and burn with a glow I’d never felt before. I felt lifted, and freed.

I felt like nothing in this world could hurt me.

And in that moment, all I wanted was him. All I wanted was to feel his hand in mine, and his lips on mine. I grinned like a silly schoolgirl with a crush as I darted across to the throne room door, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about being “too silly,” or anything like that with him. Hell, we could be as silly as we wanted, so long as it was with each other.

The door swung wide, and my eyes darted around before I slipped out of the room I never was supposed to be in. I glanced down and blushed, quickly tying the last two loops of the ribbon at the bust of my dress. I shivered, pulling my hair back and up, hoping it looked fine and not... well, like I’d just had wild, dirty, mind-blowing sex on a throne that wasn’t mine.

I quickly made my way down the hall back towards the ballroom to find Rourke. My whole body glowed as I slipped around a corner, when suddenly, a shadow stepped in front of me, and my heart about jumped into my throat.

“Well, well, there she is.”

I froze, my voice still caught in my throat somewhere at the shock of having run into him.

“Him” being Monty Scott. Prince Scott, of Kadmire — my horrible first arranged marriage that Rourke had thankfully rendered null and void with his own offer.

“Your Highness,” I said thinly, barely smiling and doing even less of a curtsey. I’d only met Prince Scott a few times, and I’d liked him less and less with every encounter. The first time we’d met, he’d been drunk, loud, and obnoxious. The second time, after the marriage had been set up, was the same. The third time, he was — yep, you guessed it — drunk, loud, and obnoxious. Only that third time, he’d thrown in cornering me outside the ladies room during dinner and pointedly asking me to blow him “as a taste of what he was buying.”

…I wish I was making this up.

Prince Scott grinned lecherously at me, sipping a large glass of something.

“So, you’re running around with Rourke fucking Cannon now, huh?”

“He’s my fiancé,” I hissed. “Yes.”

Monty made a snorting sound and rolled his eyes.

“Colette, he’s not even royal.”

I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t matter to me, actually. We’re—”

“Save it,” he hissed. “I know why, you know.”

I started to scowl when Monty laughed and shook his head.

“He’s paying your whore mother’s debts. That’s how he got his hands on you.”

“You need to shut your mouth,” I spat.

But Monty wasn’t even close to being done. He snickered, slugging back more of his drink as his bleary eyes slid over me.

“The Princess of Rags, and Mr. Not Royal who lucked into some cash is going to pay your debts for a little piece.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, my eyes narrowing at him. “Just shut up and go away, Monty.”

I went to push past him, but he stopped me with a clammy hand on my arm.

“So how much?”

“What?”

He grinned. “I’m just curious how much that uptight little pussy of yours costs.”

My jaw dropped. “You disgusting piece of—”

“I’ll match it, you know.”

I sneered at him, yanking my arm free. “I have to go.”

I made it two steps before I heard him right behind me.

“He hasn’t yet, has he?”

My lips pursed as I stopped, the anger blooming in my face as I whirled on the little shit.

“Excuse me?”

“Fucked you yet.”

The heat rose in my face. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckled. “Yeah that’s a no. C’mon, Colette, how much. I’ll pay right here and now.”

I started to turn to get away from him and go find Rourke, when he suddenly closed the distance between us faster than I’d ever have guessed. I gasped loudly, the fear lancing through me as he grabbed my arms and shoved me against the hallway wall.

“How about,” he sneered. “How about you pull that little dress up and show me what I’d be buying, huh?”

Fear paralyzed me, my blood turning to ice in my veins as he moved against me, his horrible breath wafting over me.

“How about you let me get a taste of—”

Monty suddenly shrieked, twisting away from me like he’d been hit by a passing bus. His hand yanked back from my arm at this sickening angle, with a sound that made my skin crawl.

“Take your fucking hands off of her!”

Rourke’s bellowing, roaring voice boomed through the hallway as he physically pulled Monty away from me, lifted him up, and threw him across the floor. The prince screamed in agony, clutching his hand and bellowing something. Suddenly, men in black suits with earpieces came dashing around the corner, taking one glance at the prince before they charged at Rourke, pulling guns from their jackets. I screamed in horror, but the sound caught in my throat as I watched in awe as Rourke charged right back at them.

He caught the first man with his shoulder, lifting him up and then dumping him over his shoulder. His fist caught the next man in the neck, yanking the gun out of his hands and unchambering the round in one smooth motion. The third guard got his legs knocked out, his gun similarly yanked out of his hand and disarmed.

The fourth and fifth hit Rourke head-on like two linebackers. My heart jumped into my throat in a silent scream, but he barely budged. Rourke roared right back at them, ducking a hit and then landing fists against both of them. He lashed out like some sort of wild animal, kicking both of their guns away before slamming one into the wall with a sickening crunch and then dropping the other one’s face onto his knee, knocking the man out cold.

I didn’t realize I was actually screaming until he strode right for me, wrapped his big arms around me and held me tight.

“I’ve got you, Princess,” he murmured in my ear, holding me so tight and kissing the top of my head. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go.”

“Get him!”

Monty’s shrill voice had some of his guards lurching to their feet and making a move towards us, when suddenly, the entire hallway was filled with men in the garb of the royal palace guard of Avlion. There was a moment of chaos as they charged around the corner, swarming Monty’s fallen guards and cuffing them before suddenly, four marched right over to us.

“Wait, no, he was—” I shrieked as they yanked Rourke away from me and started to cuff him.

“Stop it!” I screamed, lunging at them and trying to land my fists on them. “Let him go!”

“Miss!” one the guards turned and started to try and grab my wrists, and Rourke exploded. He roared, shoving away the guards holding him back throwing himself into the man trying to grab me.

“Keep your fucking hands off—”

He grunted as the butt of a rifle caught him in the side of the head, knocking him to his knees. Rourke snarled, lurching to his feet before suddenly four rifles were pointed right at him.

“That’s enough!”

The booming voice filled the hallway, silencing everything in a millisecond. I gasped, turning with the rest of them to see none other than King Lucian standing there, flanked by his royal guard.

“Sergeant,” he growled, his face hard and his look piercing as he narrowed his eyes at one of the men pointing a gun at my fiancé. “What in the hell is going on here?”

“Your Highness!” Monty squeaked, scrambling to his feet. “This man accosted me! My guards were trying to protect me, but he—”

“Your guards who’ve managed to bring concealed weapons into my palace,” King Lucian said evenly, his voice icy as he glared at Monty.

The prince cleared his throat, scowling. “This man,” he hissed jabbing a finger at Rourke. “This man thinks he can just take my princess!”

King Lucian’s brow raised slightly, the faintest sign of a smile on his lips.

“Your princess?” Queen Jessica stepped out from behind her husband, scowling at Monty. “Is she your property?”

“Your Highness, if I could—”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned to me, her look softening. “Are you his property, my dear?”

“Absolutely not,” I hissed, glaring at Monty before I shoved one of the guards with guns away and reached down to help Rourke to his feet.

“And this man?” King Lucian rested his gaze on Rourke.

“This is my fiancé,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his so tightly.

Monty snorted loudly. “Your Highness, this man isn’t even royalty! He’s just some commoner who thinks a checkbook makes him—”

“Do us all a favor, Prince Scott,” King Lucian growled thinly, turning his eyes back to the sniveling prince, “and cease talking.”

He turned back to us, but this time, when his eyes landed on Rourke, there was something else there — something piercing and curious.

“What’s your name, son?”

Rourke stood tall, squaring his shoulders. “Rourke Cannon, Your Highness. I do apologize for the disturbance in your halls.”

The king nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Rourke.

“And what was your mother’s name?” he said quietly.

I frowned curiously. What?

“Lena,” Rourke growled quietly. “Her name was Lena Cannon.”

Slowly, King Lucian shook his head. “Morningstar.”

Rourke frowned. “Pardon, Your Highness?”

“Your mother’s name was Lena Morningstar.”

“No, I’m sorry Your Highness, but her maiden name was—”

“Your mother loved violets, and she had blue eyes.”

Rourke tensed, his hand tightening around mine.

“She was a fantastic swimmer, and she loved the Beatles.”

“Lots of people love the Beatles,” Rourke growled quietly, his voice hoarse.

“Ones that have a birthmark in the shape of a star on their left inner arm?”

The hallway went silent. Queen Jessica looked at her husband curiously, before she turned back to Rourke. This time, her eyes went wide, and her hand moved to her mouth.

“Son,” Lucian said quietly. “I know your mother’s name was Morningstar, and I know she loved violets, and was and amazing swimmer, because she was my sister.”