Violet

When Hunter leaves my room, I shut my door, lock it, then fall against it. My shoulders drop; my knees are still weak. I touch my fingers to my lips, wanting to feel if they’re swollen.

They are.

I can’t believe Hunter and I kissed.

When he kissed me, I swear something inside of me woke. Of course I can’t admit that to him. That’s why I pulled away, slapped him. Pretended like what he was offering was not what I wanted.

Because what I want in this moment terrifies me. I’ve always built my image around being responsible—organizing the food drive at Christmas, leading the charge to clean up the National Parks. Focusing on important tasks.

But when Hunter kissed me, none of that seemed important, as foolish as that may sound. All that mattered was the way his large hands held me firmly in place. All that mattered was the way his tongue filled my mouth, so warm, as if he was devouring me.

All that mattered was us.

Everything else seemed to fade away. Is that what it’s like to be with a man? Does it mean forgetting everything else the moment you give in?

I want to help people, like my mother always did. And I knew how to do that back home, with my volunteering and fund raising … but now I’m realizing what it really means to serve my country.

Serving Elexia means being with Hunter.

And maybe, if I give my body to him—something I know I will enjoy—I could forget about all the things I’m losing in this deal. I might be able to focus on what I’m gaining.

It doesn’t matter now. Right now, I need to change into this lovely dress, a dress that’s considerably more stiff and proper than anything I ever wore on the island.

And I need to walk downstairs and take Hunter’s proffered arm, and let him give me a tour of his castle. Then I’ll sit and have dinner with strangers who are my new family.

I can do that. It would be selfish to put my carnal desires before the needs of my people. I’m not a woman who gives her mouth, and her body—and her heart—to a man she has just met.

That isn’t me.

Is it?

* * *

My dress fits perfectly. I clasp a string of pearls around my neck—pearls I brought from home, pearls that were my mother’s. I put on soft, supple leather boots that hit me at my knee, and look at my discarded dress—delicate fabric that dried outside on a line in the sun.

Instead of dwelling on what isn’t, I lift my chin, paste a smile on my face and walk downstairs. For Elexia.

Jemma intercepts me immediately. “Violet, you look lovely in that color. Hunter is waiting for you in the sitting room. Can I show you the way?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“Was Hunter respectable when he brought you to your room?”

I pull back, surprised by her tone. She’s the public relations liaison for the royal family—an employee, not a friend, right? I look at her closely, wondering if she has an ulterior motive.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jemma says. “Hunter hits on everything with a pulse.”

“I know Hunter’s reputation, Jemma.” I swallow, having experienced it first-hand. My father’s instruction not to sleep with Hunter until a ring is on my finger echoes in my head.

“Hunter is more than meets the eye, Violet. I want you to give him a chance, a real chance.”

I smile tightly, wondering why she’s trying to convince me of Hunter’s character.

Hunter is at the end of the hall, and the corner of my mouth tugs up as I see him. Jemma may think she knows Hunter, but she doesn’t know me.

Besides, I’m the one marrying him, not her.

“You look drop-dead gorgeous, Sunshine,” he tells me as I greet him. He kisses my cheeks softly, and I inhale his freshly showered maleness. He smells like cinnamon and leather and pine trees—a scent I’ve never smelled before but know in an instant is him.

His lips brush my skin. I have no moves, but Hunter offers me his elbow to hold on to and I’m grateful that, just as Jemma suggested, he has plenty of experience. Right now, I’ll rely on that.

* * *

The tour begins in the portrait hall, of course. Hunter doesn’t know the names of any of the royal family, and he mostly rolls his eyes whenever I ask a question about his great great grandfather, or the way Parliament works in Cressia.

“I honestly haven’t a clue about those details, Violet.” He shrugs. “And I don’t see any reason to learn.”

“But you will be king.”

“Something like that.” He rolls his eyes again, and I wonder why he’s so flippant about such a prestigious role—a role I dreamed of having my entire life in Elexia, even though I knew I never would have it.

“Do you not want to be king?”

“Is my cock big?”

I swallow, my eyes bugging, because I certainly have no idea about cock sizes. But at the mere mention of his, I can’t help but avert my eyes to his groin and clench my own pussy as a wave of desire washes over me.

He smirks as if he won something by getting us off the topic of his royal lineage, and on the topic of his dick.

But the conversation is so far out of my comfort zone that I stop talking—and so does he. We meander through the massive castle, and I mentally make note of the maze of corridors, the impressive fireplaces grounding every room we pass through, and the way Hunter seems to tense as every staff member greets us. It’s as if being here is an annoyance.

We stop at a landing and look out a window that overlooks the capital city. Finally, I ask a question that piques his interest.

“What is that?” I point to a small deer-like creature making its way across the snowbank. “Over there.”

“Oh, that is a gaillia. They’re incredibly common in this part of Cressia, but less populated in the forests. They’re a bit like moose.”

I see a herd of them slowly gravitating toward town.

“The city offers them forage they can’t find in the woods. They love to lick the salt on the roads, too. However, this time of year is difficult for any gaillia. It’s so cold that finding sustenance is an undertaking.”

“It’s not always this cold?”

“It’s always cold, but not always freezing. The snow will melt come springtime, and we’ll have a solid four months where the weather is warmer, say 50 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Still much colder than Elexia. Our cold season is 75 degrees.”

“I can tell. Your skin is golden; it’s clear you live in the sun.”

“Not for long, though. With long-sleeved clothing like this and the sky that heavy and dark, I can’t imagine seeing much sun any time soon.”

“Do you regret coming?”

His question startles me; it’s completely unexpected. Earlier he was such a chauvinistic asshole with one solitary thing on his mind— having his way with me—so I didn’t anticipate this question. You know, a question that actually pertained to me as a human being.

But I can’t be too vulnerable with him. I still don’t know if he will actually commit to me at the end of this week.

“I had to come because my family needed the help. Your father’s dowry was generous. We can’t always have what we want, can we, Hunter?”

Whatever sincerity may have passed across his conscience when he asks me that simple question disappears the moment I hint at wants.

He steps closer to me, and his expression reminds me that he’s used to getting what he desires. His eyes are hooded, dark and needy. As if he’s ready to claim me here on the landing.

“Perhaps we can’t always have what we want, but how about we give ourselves the thing we’re hungering for tonight?”

“Hunter,” I begin, shaking my head. He steps toward me, closing all the space between us. Now there’s nothing but his body inches from mine. Like we’re back in my bedroom. I’m not ready for this. It’s too much, too soon.

It’s too much that I want.

“Oh, come on, Sunshine. Must you be such a—”

“Do you want to finish that sentence, Hunter?”

“Oh, I was going to ask if you must be so coy. I know you’re tempted by the things you've denied yourself. But I’m not forbidding you from anything. In fact, you can have anything you like.”

I’ve never been around a man who unabashedly flirted, who confidently stated what he wanted when he wanted it, who absolutely believed he could get it.

Part of me wants to fight his cavalier approach to me and this arrangement. He isn’t being formal or tight-lipped. I’m a princess, not his village conquest. I need to be treated with dignity.

Right?

Still, my stomach teems with butterflies in response to his direct approach. It feels good to be so thoroughly desired, even though he’s the exact person my father warned me about.

I have no reason to trust him.

Men I’ve known have always gone for girls like my sister Iris. A girl who owns nothing but push-up bras and thongs, a girl who shaved her legs before I ever considered a razor, a girl who applied to be a contestant on the Bachelorette, before my father got word of her casting call and put the kibosh on the entire thing.

The thing is, I’ve never been the girl that people fawn over. Dahlia is young and pretty, Iris is loud and sexy—and me? I’m just … Violet.

“I have a feeling I’m not singular in your mind, Hunter. I get the impression you have a lot of women you use these lines on, and to be perfectly honest, they aren’t the lines I want. I’m not interested in a man who can sweet-talk his way into a pair of panties.”

Hunter snorts, shaking his head. “And what kind of man do you find appealing, my darling Violet? How might a man get into your panties, exactly?”

I roll my eyes, hating that he doesn’t get offended or standoffish when I refuse him. Instead, it seems to encourage him.

“You want to talk about what kind of men I want?”

“Oh, it’s men now, is it? So you’re looking for more than one man at a time to pleasure you?”

“Oh my word, Hunter. You can’t say that.”

He shakes his head at me. “I don’t know, Violet. I think you need a man who forces you to stop thinking for a moment. Who forces you to give in to the moment at hand.” He’s close to me again, looking at my mouth as if he’s memorizing it.

I know everything about Hunter should turn me off. Then he tells me I need a man who can stop me from thinking, and I remember the kiss in the bedroom. I remember how I forgot, and how the forgetting felt so damn good.

I tilt my chin toward him again, my eyes fluttering closed, and I breathe in his manly scent once more, the pine and sap and whiskey and leather.

Before our mouths connect, a bell rings and a footman appears.

“Excuse me, Prince and Princess. Dinner is served.”

The footman walks away, and I step back. I bite my lip, my core quivering and my heart beating fast. I’m realizing that I don’t need Hunter to kiss me in order for me to escape.

His warm breath close to my skin is more than enough to make me lose all my senses.