Hunter

Dinner is fine, mostly because I’m sitting directly across from Violet, whose perky tits look so fucking hot in that skintight dress.

So much of her is covered in the dark wool that I have to imagine what’s underneath. It isn’t hard—in fact, the only thing that’s hard is my cock underneath the oak table. I swear, it started twitching the moment I sat down.

Dinner is a ridiculous eight-course affair where my father drinks enough merlot for a small village. Violet bats her eyelashes—something she does naturally; this is no coy-lash-extension ploy to get attention—and murmurs her pleases and thank yous when necessary.

Of course I don’t speak, because I’m fucking distracted by Violet’s mouth, by my desire to kiss her. And I’m not exactly ready for my father to see how badly I want the woman he’s chosen for me.

Violet excuses herself to go to bed shortly after the meal, and I retire as well. No use staying up with my father, who pulls out a book on Cressia Tax Code the moment dinner is cleared, and begins reciting some addendums.

And without my woman in my bed, I have to rub one out to the image of Violet down the hall. All eyes are on us because of the wedding, and I’m forced to take care of myself. I can’t exactly call in a chambermaid.

And, oddly, I don’t even want to.

I know Violet’s genuinely tired. She traveled a long way to get here, the time zone is different, and I’m sure she’s suffering badly from jet lag. So I don’t slip through her bedroom door in the middle of the night and seduce her like a fucking lunatic.

Maybe the idea crosses my mind … but I stay in my room. I may be an ass, but I’m not a fucking creeper.

* * *

But when I wake in the morning, all I want is to see her face. Last night we looked out the window together at the snow-covered hills, and it seemed like we shared a fucking moment. A moment where we were at least a little bit truthful. I know she has no desire to be here, any more than I wanted to marry.

When I get to the dining room for coffee and eggs, I anticipate seeing Violet’s face, but I’m informed that she’s still sleeping. Then I’m informed that she has plans all day for a dress fitting, and picking out items for our wedding. Jemma explains that if I looked at my itinerary more closely I would know these details about my future bride’s life.

“Can you give me the Cliff’s Notes version of my itinerary?”

“Prince Hunter, you’re going to need to take better care of your agenda if you’re going to be the king one day.”

“Oh, Jemma, don’t give me a hard time about itineraries. Right now I’m playing the part perfectly. I’m agreeing to a marriage, and I’m showing up when and where I’m supposed to. But if Violet is sleeping or trying on dresses or picking out silverware all day, I’m not exactly needed, am I?”

That shuts her up. I watch her walk out of the room, her heels clicking as if she has somewhere important to go. Good. I don’t need anyone micromanaging my motherfucking day. I’m anxious as hell to get out of the castle; pushing off from the breakfast table, I go to find my father. He’s in his office, door open, and I rap my knuckles on it to get his attention.

“Just who I wanted to see.” Father beams, closing the book he’s been reading. “That Violet is quite a beauty, isn’t she?”

I tense my jaw, not wanting to agree, though my perpetually stiff cock seems to think otherwise. That woman is a walking hard-on, and I haven’t even seen her today.

“Would you like to join me for a meeting with my tax advisors? I know you don’t like that sort of thing, but maybe you could start wrapping your head around the family business.” Father waves his hand over the room, not seeming to realize that if I spend any more time in this room I will die of boredom. My legs are aching to stretch, to get outside.

“I was actually thinking of leaving for the day,” I tell him.

“Leaving when your bride is here? Hunter, you need to spend time with her, get to know her. There’s a photo shoot happening the day before the wedding, I don’t want anyone to question the validity of your love. It needs to appear genuine.”

“Really, Father? You don’t want someone to question my love for a woman I hadn’t met until yesterday? You don’t want anyone to question whether or not I love a woman I never wanted to marry?”

“Oh, don’t give me such a hard time, Hunter. I’m doing my best here. Are you?”

“Are you kidding me? I am certainly doing my best. I’m here, now. I could be gone.”

“Gone, and without a penny. Gone without a crown.”

My blood is boiling, and I hate the way he tosses these statements in my face as if I’m a child. “Last night I wore a hideous suit for you. I smiled and sat at meal with you, for you. I certainly would’ve preferred to sit in front of the fireplace in my own cabin—”

“Your cabin? Might I remind you that is a royal home? Property of the royal family.”

“I am the royal family.”

“Perhaps you might start acting it. You’re certainly not acting like a prince on the eve of his wedding—”

“Not the eve of my wedding, Father. That’s still not for, what, five more days? What do you need me here for?”

“This is the royal palace. You’re needed here because your face—”

“Father, I’m not the king. I’m not needed here until you die. So until then, I don’t understand why I can’t spend the day doing what I please.”

“What you please? You mean you want to go squander the day in the forest, like a little boy? You want to go make a fire in your cabin, roast rabbit, and whittle a stick? That’s what you want? There are already enough rumors circulating about you not wanting to be the Prince; we don’t need talk about you leaving the Palace the week before your wedding.”

I’m so fucking pissed. I’ve had this conversation with my father a hundred times before. He doesn’t understand me, and he never will, because he doesn’t even try. That’s why I don’t want to work and live and breathe this stifling castle air. I want to be outdoors.

And I need to go there now.

“I’ll be back in one day’s time. Tell Violet I’ll see her then.”

“Don’t you even think about leaving. You cannot have your cake and eat it, too.”

“Oh, Father, you do not need to explain that to me. I know what I can and cannot have to eat. You think I want this marriage? You think I want this role? Fuck that. I don’t want to be the goddamned king at all.”

“You say things that you know will hurt me. You are my only child. You are my beloved wife’s son. You are the heir.”

“But you’re giving me a kingdom I don’t want.”

The room is silent as he takes in the truest thing I’ve said in a long time. Weight is lifted from my shoulders, from finally being completely honest.

Eventually, he speaks, his voice low and gravelly. “You should go for two days, Hunter, and think about what you are saying. You don’t want to be king—but do you know what that actually means for you, for me, for the people of Cressia?” My father shakes his head and pounds his fist upon his desk.

I understand why. This conversation is not something light. It’s not something easy. It’s something that will change the course of our country forever.

“You can go, but you must take Violet with you,” Father says, surprising me. “Take her with you, and see if she might be able to knock some sense into your brain about what you would be giving up if you gave up your title.”

“You want me to take Violet, a woman I barely know, into the woods?” I shake my head, wondering what Violet would think about me whisking her away. She made it clear, the moment she suggested I get a mistress, that she doesn’t want to be with me.

But then we kissed. And I saw the way her body ached for mine.

There are worse things than taking a beautiful woman to the woods.

“Take Violet,” he repeats.

“And that’s what you want, father? You want sense knocked into me?”

“Hunter, I want more than sense knocked into you. I want you to want this. I want you to want your legacy.”

We’re back to the old wanting game.

Can any man have what he wants? My father wants me to be married to a woman I barely know, with the crown on my head and a title I never asked for chained around my neck.

It’s the same for Violet, though, I realize. And I want to take her with me. Right now, she might be the only woman on earth who actually understands how I feel.

“All right, I’ll take her with me, but not for you. For her.”

Before I can go find her, however, a castle guardsman enters the study, his face filled with concern.

“Prince Hunter, come quick.”