The next morning, I tiptoed into Alex’s room, peering around the door and letting out a whoosh of air when I saw the room only contained the prince. And a golf club. Scooping it off the floor, I rested it against the wall, then made my way over to where Alex was curled up in bed, blinking his sleep blurred eyes open. I’d never known a child to sleep so late, but I wasn’t complaining.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I teased, ruffling his curls.

Instantly alert, he bounced out of bed and made quick work of getting dressed. Once we were in the playroom, he proceeded to demolish his breakfast, then attacked his daily lessons with the enthusiasm of someone wanting to get them out of the way, so he could play. I couldn’t blame him, it was beautiful outside, and by the time we made it out, the sun was high in the sky, casting the day in glorious warmth.

And we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his Uncle. Thankfully. Because I didn’t want another run in with the King. Honestly.

Alex sprawled on the ground, shaded by the large canopy that hung from a corner of the building and two pillars, forming a stretched triangle across the courtyard. He had a set of mini soldiers that he liked to play with, and was presently pushing them around in attack formations, complete with sound effects and smack talk, of the child-friendly persuasion. And all in English, presumably for my benefit. Every now and then, he’d deign to explain something to me, but early on in our relationship he’d discovered my lack of enthusiasm for war, despite my half-hearted efforts to hide it, and had dismissed me from the game. So, I alternated between offering advice—very rarely taken—and reading my book. It was the perfect afternoon after a morning of working hard, yet every muscle in my body refused to relax. Tucking my bookmark between the pages, I set my book down and pulled off my shades, rubbing at my eyes. “Alex?” I held out his drink and he took it, finishing it off in one long swallow, then went back to his game.

Across the way, people moved along the covered walkway that lined the side of the palace, sensibly keeping out of the afternoon sun. Some were dressed in what must be the palace uniform, jeans and a pale gray shirt with cobalt blue accents, others dressed in business attire more suited to an office. Every now and then, some men would stride past, dressed down in well-worn jeans and t-shirts stretched over their muscular chests, eyes alert and large bodies tense, a firearm either tucked into their waistband or snapped to their hips. I recognized guards when I saw them, but couldn’t remember them being so obvious about it before.

A familiar face exited the building, and I hurried over, shooting glances back at Alex, who was still wrapped up in his own little world. “Zara!”

“Tahlia!” She greeted me with a quick hug and waved over at Alex, before settling her attention back on me. “Sorry, we’re all over the place today, what can I do for you?” She peered at me, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ll let you get back to work,” I replied, waving off her concern as I backed away.

Her eyes widened, the corner of her mouth twitching.

I spun around and crashed into a brick wall. My hand connected with soft cotton, my nose inhaled clean spicy soap and citrus. I forced myself to look up. My eyes clashed with icy blue. “Oh, it’s you.” It came out as an accusation. Muffled, but sharp enough that Zara audibly sucked in a breath behind me.

Beast man, sorry King Nicholas, peered down at me from his impressive, and oh so unfair, height advantage, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders, presumably to steady me. Possibly to peel me off his chest. Who knew? Last night, he’d seemed very interested in plastering himself up against me. Oh, how the tables had turned, and not in my favor. Regaining control of my body, I began to inch backward, but his hands held me in place. Amusement lit his eyes, along with something that suspiciously looked like anticipation. “I should hope so.” His voice was a low rumble, traveling up through his chest and somehow ending up between my legs.

“King Nicholas,” I began, wondering whether I should curtsey. Then again, I’d seen this man naked, and the chance for niceties had probably come and gone.

Annoyance creased his brow, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Nick,” he commanded—sorry, corrected. Probably. There was something about him that made everything seem like an order.

“Okay, King Nick—”

He shook his head, his thumbs stroking along my shoulders as he continued to stare at me. “Just Nick.”

“Okay, just—”

He yanked me closer, closing the gap between us and cutting off my witty comeback. “Enough, min älskling.”

Zara gasped again, reminding me that she was still standing there, watching me let him manhandle me.

“My name’s Tahlia,” I informed Nick, wedging my arms between us and carving out a tiny gap. Geez, the man was made of iron, ripples of the damn stuff coating his body in drool worthy dips and curves. Unfortunately, my distraction now meant that my hands were pressed to his front, tracing the outline of his abs through the thin cotton. And what kind of King wore jeans and a tee? A glance at his face confirmed it. The barbarian king, that’s who. “I think it would be for the best if you let me go.” I kept my voice nice and calm, the way I would speak to a child having a meltdown, or a vicious dog.

Once again, his eyebrow arched, but this time I could follow its path, his hair slicked back and neat. “Why? I’m dressed … this time.”

I didn’t even need to turn around to know that Zara’s face would be a picture. I had to do something fast to regain the upper hand. “Yeah, but I’m not. You’re mauling a half-naked helpless woman in public.” There. That should embarrass him or call to his sense of decency.

Then Zara called out, “Alex, why don’t you come and have a snack.” She sounded slightly panicked. I watched as Alex darted around me, giving me a quick wave, then he was gone.

The King’s hold on my shoulders tightened, his eyes drifting down between us to rest on the top of my bikini which barely showed. The rumble in his chest returned full force as he pushed me out at arm’s length, the heat of his gaze burning into my skin as he took in my purple polka dot bikini, then he yanked me close again, almost smothering me as his arms curled around me, his hands trailing fire over my bare skin.

Oh, right. Barbarian king. Sense of decency need not apply.

His mouth grazed my ear, breath hot. “Not naked enough for what I’d like to do to you.”

I knew we were surrounded by people. I also knew without looking around that not a single person would tell their king to back off. If he wanted to maul a woman in the middle of his back yard, they’d mind their own business and look the other way.

“Nobody is watching us. Zara distracted them at my command,” he whispered, as if he’d read my mind.

Oh, right. But still. Why the hell wasn’t I pissed off? I should be shoving him away, giving him a slap down that involved creative cursing and a lot of finger pointing. I certainly shouldn’t be biting back a moan and considering his offer.

As if sensing my weakness, he gathered me even closer, the hard length of him pressing against my stomach as his hands slid down my back, reaching the curve of my spine where my bikini bottoms clung to my skin. His fingers teased the fabric as he nipped at my ear. “Min älskling…” he growled, repeating his earlier words.

“What does that mean?” I whispered, tilting my head to meet his eyes and unwittingly giving him access to my neck. A moan caught in my throat as his teeth grazed and tongue swirled against my skin.

He lifted his head, eyes swirling with flecks of silver. “It means, my darling.”