The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London

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      “Are you still angry at me?” I ask, releasing her hand.

      She lets it fall against my chest. “Furious,” she says, but there is no fury in her voice. “Are you not angry with me for barging into your life and messing it up even more?”

      My hands rest on her hips, my fingertips kneading her soft skin beneath her riding clothes. “The angriest,” I lie. Because the truth is, while I am definitely in one royal fucking mess I don’t know how to clean up, right now I care nothing for the fate of Edenvale or Nightgardin. I care only that this woman has not run from me screaming. This woman I do not know who claims she carries my child.

      “Juliet,” I say, my mouth going dry.

      “Damien,” she responds.

      “I—” I don’t know what the hell to say, so I brush my lips against hers, testing the waters, and she whimpers, and that is answer enough.

      I scoop her into my arms, and she yelps with laughter.

      “What are you doing? Do you not have broken ribs that are still healing?” she scolds.

      “I don’t care,” I growl, leaving the horses to drink while I take her to a place I have not been since I was a young teen. We weave through a copse of trees until we emerge at a circular clearing small enough that most would pass it by, but I know better.

      Before fast cars, there were horses. As much as I loved my brothers, it was when I grew older that I realized I’d always live in their shadows—that there was no true place for me in the palace. So I’d ride far and fast until I found a place I could get lost.

      I set Juliet on her feet, and she spins to take in the lush green canopy of the tree branches, the purple wildflowers that grow at the bases of the trunks, and a small space where a fourteen-year-old boy could hide away from the life of a prince—and where a twenty-five-year-old man can get to know the stranger who is his wife.

      “Damien,” she whispers. “How did you know this place was here?”

      She spins to face me, a wondrous smile spread across her face.

      “Let’s just say I was a broody teen,” I chuckle.

      She brushes my hair from my forehead. “So not much has changed, then?”

      I narrow my eyes, then hook a finger in the belt loop of her body-hugging jeans. “Are you teasing me, wife?”

      She skims her teeth over her bottom lip, and I wonder for a second if I’ve seen her do this before. I wonder how many firsts she experienced with me that I don’t even remember. And it’s this that makes me step away.

      “We should go,” I say.

      Juliet squares her shoulders. “Why, Damien? Why now are you running? I am your wife. Do you still think I have ulterior motives? That I am here to be the ruin of Edenvale?”

      “I don’t know!” I snap, but she doesn’t shrink away. She is every bit the regal princess. “I don’t know you. But if you are telling the truth, then I have already failed you in so many ways. And if you are lying, then I have failed my entire kingdom. So tell me, Princess. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

      She presses a palm above my heart. “What does this tell you?”

      “Christ, Juliet. It’s not that simple.”

      She doesn’t falter. “I have never in my entire life believed that love was real. Only duty. My own parents would sooner hang me than show me an ounce of affection, and the one man I thought could change my mind does not remember me or trust me. Yet I’m still willing to hope. So tell me again, Damien. What does your heart tell you?”

      I pull her to me, then lower her to the ground, spreading her out on her back. Her hair spreads above her like a wild crown, this princess and almost queen.

      “It tells me to forget about trust and just take what I fucking want.”

      “Do you want me?” she asks, chest heaving.

      “Yes,” I grind out.

      “Then take.”

      Juliet

      He hesitates, and for a moment I think he is going to climb off and stalk away with one of his famous scowls. But then his shoulders slacken, tension releasing as he loses whatever silent battle he wages with himself. Uttering a muffled curse, he slants his full lips over my mouth. I moan as his hot tongue slides over mine in a punishing caress. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon and a flavor that is so deliciously and indescribably Damien that my heart contracts, squeezing until I’m writhing in equal parts agony and pleasure.

      He presses his hips down, pinning me in place with the raw power of his erection. I’ve been starved of feeling, frozen like a block of ice. He burns away my defenses. I can’t resist his heat.

      My hands fly to his buckle as if they have a life of their own. Despite our three days of passion two months ago, I’m not an expert in the art of initiation. Instead, I fumble with the clasp, my growing determination overcoming my artlessness.

      Dear God, I need to feel, to have a cathartic release.

      “Juliet. No.”

      “What more damage can be done?” I protest. “I’m already with child.”

      “I don’t have sex, not the way you want.”

      I roll my eyes, molars locked in frustration. “Hate to repeat the bad news, but you already did with me. Countless times. Multiple positions.”

      “I’m not denying your words.” He frowns, sweat sheening his temples. “But if I can’t remember being inside you, then it might as well have never happened.”

      “You have taken so much from me,” I yell in his face, raking my nails into his neck. “Must you take even my few memories of happiness?”

      One of the horses stomps in the distance, snorting a restless breath.

      He blinks as if in surprise. “Juliet. I didn’t mean to—”

      “Forget it, Damien. Forget it...and...go fuck yourself.” I choke out the profanity.

      Something gleams deep in his eyes. “You’re a hellcat under that prim exterior.”

      “Oh I’ve got claws.” I dig deeper, and he hisses, nostrils flaring. “And if you’re this committed to being miserable, then you aren’t a Backdoor Baron at all...you’re a Brooding Baby.”

      His eyes widen. “No one speaks to me this way.”

      “I just did.”

      He does something then that I never would have expected. He bursts out laughing.

      This only frustrates me more. “What is so funny?”

      He shrugs, a gesture so un-him. “It feels awesome to have someone bust my balls,” he says. “Normally I intimidate СКАЧАТЬ