Unbreak My Heart - Chapter 16 now posted on AO3 (link below)
Chapter 16 - Bring Me to Life (links to AO3)
Chapter Summary: Riley tries to settle into her room at Applewood. Though Drake got her suite changed, she still can't really relax and yearns for Drake's presence. As promised, Drake returns to hang out with a surprise from the kitchen that once again proves how much he remembers about Emily/Riley. Finally feeling secure, they settle into easy conversation that quickly becomes anything but light. Despite their earlier insistence on avoiding anything too "deep", they finally wade into those waters. Riley lets Drake in on more of what hurt her after he left while Drake steps way outside his comfort zone and shares why he always questions his self-worth. Their shared truths feel like a step forward, but they both know they still have a ways to go.
Chapter Warnings: Language
Author’s Note: Same note as before basically…I’m posting after another long absence. l've been gone from this fandom and my writing for a LONG time (my last chapter was posted 5/2025 and before that was 9/2022). I have no idea if anyone that was reading my AU is still around (so I won't be tagging my old tag list) and I totally understand if no one's reading. I never wanted to leave this unfinished but life just sucks, I won’t bore you by elaborating more than that. Some recent comments on AO3 brought me back and drove me to finish a chapter I already had partially written. I hope to pick this up again because I miss it but it WILL be SLOW because I have a lot of demands on my time. I need to make time for me and my passions a priority so I plan to schedule a few writing blocks a week. How often and how quickly I post will be determined by how much I’m able to write in each block of time. Inspiration has been slow lately so we’ll see how it goes if you choose to read thank you! And if you’ve read and supported me in the past, thank you!
The dawn did not break; it simply bled into the room, a slow, watercolour wash of slate grey that filtered through the rain-streaked windowpanes. Outside, a persistent spring drizzle tapped a hollow, rhythmic cadence against the glass, masking the village in a shroud of freezing mist.
But inside the small bedroom, the air remained dense, trapped in the amber-lit stasis of the night before. The small bedside lamp still hummed, its pale orange glow fighting a losing battle against the encroaching morning light, casting long, fragile shadows across the faded wallpaper.
Bianca lay beneath the heavy patchwork quilt, her face entirely peaceful, the sharp lines of pain permanently smoothed away into a profound, terrifying stillness. Beside her, Drake sat motionless in a heavy wooden chair he had dragged from the corner of the room, positioning it close to the mattress so he could remain within arm's reach. His massive frame was completely slouched, his broad shoulders sunken forward under the invisible weight of the atmosphere. His eyes, heavily bloodshot and rimmed with dark, shadowed hollows, were vacant—fixed in a glassy, unblinking stare on his mother’s pale, lifeless features.
Downstairs, the house was buried in an oppressive silence. His friends, his brothers in every way that mattered, kept a quiet, heavy vigil in the living room below, the absence of their voices almost echoing through the floorboards like a physical pressure.
In the corner of the bedroom, Leona stood in the shadows, speaking in hushed, fragmented whispers to the doctor. The physician, an elderly man whose hair had gone grey in the service of the village, had conducted his examination with a quiet, practiced solemnity. Turning to the small vanity table, the sharp, rhythmic scratch of his fountain pen punctured the silence of the room, a cold, clinical sound that grated against Drake’s raw nerves.
With a soft, final murmur of condolence to Leona, the doctor walked back over to the bedside, holding out a crisp, folded piece of paper.
Drake’s calloused hand moved automatically, his fingers closing around the document.
“I'm sorry, Drake,” the doctor whispered, offering a grave nod. "She was a good woman. She'll be sorely missed." He smiled sadly at the younger man, resting his wrinkled hand against Drake's shoulder, before slipping out of the room, his heavy footsteps retreating down the creaking staircase.
Drake remained frozen, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the paper, causing it to crinkle loudly in the quiet room. Slowly, agonisingly, he forced his eyes down to the document in his hand. The black ink was fresh, the elegant, loopy cursive of the physician stark against the harsh white background of the Medical Certificate.
A sudden, violent wave of nausea surged through his stomach, followed by a profound, freezing shock that made his entire body tremble. His eyes tracked down to the handwriting under Cause of Death, reading the cold, clinical finality of the diagnosis:
1a. Cardio-Respiratory failure
1b. Tertiary Neurosyphilis
The words hit Drake like a physical blow to the sternum, knocking the remaining air from his lungs. The room seemed to tilt. The bitter, suffocating scent of antiseptic and stale medicine suddenly felt overwhelming, burning the back of his throat.
He stared at the second line. His mind, completely sluggish and suffocated by grief, rejected it. Neurosyphilis. The word felt heavy, ugly, and entirely foreign. It belonged in text-books, or whispered maliciously in the shadows of the city's red-light districts. It didn't belong here. It didn't belong on a document bearing the name of Bianca Walker.
"What is this?" Drake’s voice broke the silence, a low, raspy gravel that sounded completely unrecognisable. He didn't look up from the paper. His chest began to hitch, his breathing turning shallow and erratic. "Leona... what did he write here? This is a mistake. He’s got the wrong chart. He’s bloody old, he’s made a mistake."
He snapped his head up, his vision blurred by hot, panicked tears. He was looking for reassurance, looking for Leona to tell him the doctor was senile.
But Leona was looking right back at him, her chest heaving as fresh tears spilled over her lashes. She didn't look surprised. She looked utterly broken, her shoulders trembling under her shawl. There were no secrets left in the room. She had known Bianca since they were girls; she knew the horror written on the paper in his fist, and she knew exactly where it had come from.
"It's not a mistake, Drake," Leona whispered, her voice cracking into a jagged sob. She took two trembling steps toward him, reaching out a shaking, maternal hand to touch his rigid shoulder.
"No," Drake growled, his whole body violently flinching away from her touch. The denial was a desperate, clawing thing in his chest. "No, look at it! It’s an infection. A blood disease. My mum was a good woman, Leona! She was a seamstress, she worked the shops, she—"
"Drake, listen to me," Leona choked out, gripping his shoulder harder, forcing him to look at her through his blinding tears. "She didn't know. No one did. It slept in her blood all these years. It was completely silent... hidden. The penicillin she had for her chest last winter, it helped mask it. It kept it at bay for a while. Until a few weeks ago when the tremors started in her hands. By then... the doctor said it was already too late. The damage was done. It had already taken hold of her mind, her nerves..."
Slept in her blood all these years.
The phrase hung in the damp air of the bedroom, and suddenly, the fragile dam of Drake's denial fractured entirely. The world didn't just tilt; it completely shattered beneath his feet.
A sudden, vivid, and terrifying rush of memory broke through the numbness, violently dragging him back into the dark winter nights of his childhood.
He could hear it now with a horrifying, crystal clarity: the faint, metallic click of the front door opening in the dead of a freezing winter night. He remembered lying awake beneath his blankets, clutching them to his chin, listening to his mother slipping back into the dark house in the early hours of the morning. From the kitchen, the muffled, heartbreaking sound of her weeping would drift up the stairs, followed by the frantic, obsessive sound of scrubbing.
He remembered the mornings after—the sight of her nursing a bruised eye or a split lip, desperately scrub-washing the dirt and the crushing shame off her skin at the kitchen sink with harsh lye soap, before turning around to greet him with a forced, beautiful smile and a warm bowl of porridge.
The math of poverty. The debts after Jackson took a bullet for Queen Eleanor. The absolute, cruel neglect of the Cordonian crown that had left a protector's widow to rot. To keep a roof over her son's head, Bianca had turned to the only currency she had left, selling her own body on those freezing street corners in the towns a few miles away.
Neurosyphilis.
The clinical word finally connected to the memory of her confession when he was eighteen, when Drake had finally demanded the truth.
He remembered the smell of dust that day as she handed over his dad's belongings—journals, a ring, and an old watch—her voice trembling as she finally laid bare the reality of Jackson's death and how the desperate, countrywide riots had ultimately claimed him. But the history of Cordonia's collapse wasn't what had made Drake's stomach turn; it was the unspoken spaces between her words. He had looked at her, his suspicion finally hardening into the devastating question of what she had really done on those freezing winter nights while he slept.
When the secrets finally spilled out, her voice had broken completely as the old shame burned hot in her soul. He had pulled her into his arms, holding her small, shaking frame close to his chest, telling her she had nothing to be ashamed of, that she did what she had to do to keep them alive.
"It's okay, Mum," he had whispered into her hair, his own tears blinding him. “You were strong. You did what you had to do to keep us alive. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."
But he had never realised... she hadn't just sacrificed her dignity. She had contracted a death sentence. The men who had bought her flesh had left a poison in her veins that had quietly, systematically eaten away at her central nervous system for fifteen years while she smiled, baked bread, and loved him fiercely.
As far as Drake was concerned, the blame didn't belong to her. It never had. The blame lay entirely with the monsters who had refused to pay a dead protector's widow. The blame, Drake knew with a white-hot clarity, lay with the Cordonian nobility.
With Constantine. Emilia’s father.
Back in the present, the paper crinkled violently as Drake’s massive fist clenched, crushing the medical certificate into a tight, mangled ball. His chest began to heave in heavy, ragged gasps, the protective wall of numbness completely obliterated by a raw, agonising fury that roared through his veins like wildfire.
The grief was no longer sorrow; it was an incandescent, dangerous rage at the universe, at the crown, and at the systematic cruelty that had literally poisoned his mother's blood while King Constantine sat on a golden throne.
"They killed her," Drake whispered, the words vibrating with pure, unadulterated hatred. He stared at his mother’s peaceful face, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached. "Constantine killed her. The nobility killed her."
Leona squeezed his shoulder, her own tears soaking her cheeks. "Drake, please..."
"No!" Drake roared, the sound tearing from his throat, loud and violent enough to rattle the glass in the windowpanes. He ripped himself away from her grip, surging to his feet. His massive frame towered in the tight, low-ceilinged bedroom, his chest heaving like a wounded beast. He raised his clenched, white-knuckled fist—the crushed death certificate mangled inside it—and slammed it down against the heavy wooden post of the bed.
The timber groaned under the impact, but Drake didn't feel the pain in his knuckles. His vision was a blurred, vibrating smear of pure, red hatred.
"I'll kill him," Drake choked out, his voice thick with a lethal, trembling venom. He shook his head, his teeth grinding as the words forced their way past his lips. His eyes glared at the wall as if he could see right through the miles of stone and mist, straight to the palace in the capital. "First he banishes me from my home, he forces me away from my family, my friends. He rips me away from the only woman I have ever loved, leaves me to rot in exile... and now this?! If I ever see him again... if I ever cross paths with that bastard, I will rip him apart with my bare hands. I don't care about his guard. I don’t care about his fucking title! I’ll choke the life out of him, Leona. I swear to God, I will!" He was breathing in short, ragged gasps, his entire body wound tight as a coiled spring, ready to tear the world down to avenge the woman lying in the bed.
"And then what, Drake?!" Leona cried out, her voice cracking as she stepped directly into his path, forcing herself between his towering frame and the door. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, her fingers dug deep into the fabric, her face pale and streaked with terrified tears.
"You'll kill the King? You'll attack the guard?" she shook him, her small frame straining against his weight. "Look at her, Drake! Look at your mother! Why do you think she did it? Why did she stand on those freezing street corners? Why did she take the bruises, the filth, the absolute ruin of her own soul? She did it so you would live! She traded everything she had so a commoner's boy from Ramada could have a future. If you throw your life away for revenge—if you end up behind bars or swinging from a hangman's noose—then it was all for nothing! You will have murdered the only thing she managed to save!"
The words hit Drake like a bucket of freezing water.
He froze, his raised fist remaining suspended in the air. You will have murdered the only thing she managed to save.
He looked down at Leona’s desperate, weeping face, and then slowly, dreadfully, his gaze drifted back to his mother’s peaceful features beneath the patchwork quilt. The silence of the room rushed back in, heavy and absolute, suffocating him.
The fight drained out of him all at once. His shoulders suddenly sagged, the rigid, lethal tension evaporating from his muscles, leaving his limbs feeling weak and heavy as lead. The blinding, incandescent rage collapsed inward, imploding under a devastating, structural wave of absolute guilt. The fury was gone, leaving behind a cold, hollow vacuum that threatened to stop his own heart.
He didn't answer her. He couldn't.
Drake dropped heavily back into the wooden chair, his knees buckling beneath him. He buried his face in his hands, pressing the crushed, ruined certificate hard against his forehead, his massive frame shaking violently with silent, gasping sobs. The realisation broke him entirely, tearing through his soul until he felt like he was physically suffocating.
His mother had traded her physical body, her health, her sanity, and ultimately her very life to buy him a future. He wasn't just a grieving son. He was the boy she had ruined herself to save. And now, he was the man left standing alone, suffocating in the wreckage of her ultimate sacrifice.
*****
During the days that followed Biancas death, time lost all its shape. Hours dragged, thick and suffocating, like a heavy winter fog that refused to lift from the hollow.
The small house in Ramada became a tomb of static air and echoing floorboards. Every room was haunted by the sudden, violent absence of Bianca’s presence. The kitchen counter felt too clean, free of the crumbs left behind by her baking; the sewing basket in the corner sat under a layer of settling dust, the silver needles still threaded with a spool of dark blue cotton she would never finish.
For Drake, the world lost its colour entirely, bleeding out into a monochrome of slate-grey skies and relentless, freezing spring rain. He moved on an agonising autopilot. He had no memory of the undertakers arriving, nor of the quiet, hollow space left behind when they carried his mother's body out of the house. He only remembered the silence that settled into the floorboards afterward—a heavy, suffocating pressure that even his friends couldn't quiet.
They never left his side. Leo and Max moved through the rooms like silent shadows, managing the reality of a world Drake had completely unplugged from. When Leona had gently asked him what Bianca should wear to be laid to rest, Drake had only been able to choke out three words: the floral dress. It had been her absolute favourite, a vibrant splash of colour that she always wore with pride. Instantly, Drake's mind shifted back to the last time he had seen her in it. It had been that warm summer’s day at Applewood, when she had joined him, Eleanor, and Emilia for lunch in the sun-drenched rose gardens. He remembered the vivid patterns of the dress against the blooming flowers—a moment where he had felt happier than he ever had in his life, with his mother and Emilia, the love of his life, right by his side.
Now, the dress hung limp and hollow, a mocking reminder of a warmth that had been systematically stripped away.
His heart ached with a physical, bruising intensity at the thought of that perfect afternoon. Now, trapped in the grim, monochrome reality of his grief, the thought of Emilia was the only thing keeping his head above water. He caught himself wishing for her with every ragged breath he took, craving the phantom weight of her hands holding him, the soft assurance of her voice telling him that the storm would pass. She would give him the strength he needed when the weight in his chest made him feel like he was drowning.
Driven by that desperate need to reach her, he kept writing. Every single day of that agonising week, his clumsy, shaking fingers forced ink onto paper. In those pages, he laid himself completely bare. He didn't write to her with any grand, poetic words; he wrote to her as a drowning man. He laid his soul entirely bare on those pages, spilling the raw, bleeding truth of his mother’s death, the horrific weight of the diagnosis, and the suffocating guilt that was currently crushing the air from his lungs. He told her how much he loved her, how desperately he wished she were standing there with him.
I need you, the ink pleaded between the lines. You are the only light I have left in the dark.
Every afternoon, he would fold the paper, seal it with trembling hands, and give it to Leona to take down to the village post-box.
And every morning, the torment renewed itself. Drake would stand by the glass, his breath fogging the windowpane, praying for a flash of white parchment, a familiar seal, a single line written in her elegant script to break the nightmare. But day after day, the postman passed the gate without stopping. The letters went completely unanswered, leaving a vast, hollow silence where her voice should have been. The absolute lack of an answer—the complete, echoing silence from the woman he loved more than life itself—left him feeling entirely discarded. It was as if he had already been erased from her world, left to drown alone in the dirt of the village.
*****
By the time Friday morning arrived, the rain had finally tapered off into a thick, damp mountain mist that clung to the hedges and slicked the stone path outside.
Inside, the small house was a hive of quiet, sombre preparation. Drake stood in front of the small mirror in the narrow hallway, the air around him smelling of damp wood, old stone, and the sharp tang of shoe polish. His fingers felt entirely detached from his body, clumsy and stiff as ice as he tried to force the plastic button of his white shirt through the frayed loop. His reflection was a stranger’s—his jawline looked hollowed out, the sharp cheekbones cutting beneath skin that had gone a sickly, sleepless grey, and his bloodshot eyes were sunken into deep, violet shadows.
He tried again, but his calloused fingers slipped off the fabric. A sudden, sharp prickle of suffocating frustration flared beneath his collar, tightening around his throat until he could barely breathe. He felt entirely unravelled, a giant of a man reduced to useless trembling by a single piece of plastic.
Through the blurred reflection in the glass, he saw Max and Leo standing at the end of the hallway. They looked just as exhausted, dressed in their own dark, mismatched funeral coats. Leo, who had walked beside Drake since the days of nursery school mud-fights, stepped forward first. Without a word, he reached out, his hand squeezing Drake’s forearm with a crushing, desperate grip—an unspoken language built over a lifetime of shared history. Next to him, Max, who had entered Drake's world as a rowdy teenager and quickly became a brother, leaned in, resting a heavy, grounding palm against Drake’s shoulder blade, leaning his forehead briefly against Drake’s back. They didn’t say anything. They didn't need to. They were simply there, an unbreakable wall of childhood loyalty holding back the dark.
Seeing them there brought a sudden, flickering memory of earlier in the week—a quiet conversation in the dead of night, out by the woodpile in the small back garden.
Drake had pulled Zeke aside, the cold wind whipping at their faces. Zeke had risked everything to help Drake sneak across the Cordonian border from France, and Drake had felt the crushing weight of that debt.
“You should go back, Zeke,” Drake had told him, his voice rough, eyes fixed on the dirt. “What about the farm? You can’t leave it untended. Leo can drive me back after the funeral.”
Zeke had merely let out a soft huff, a plume of white steam rising in the cold air. “Kiara can handle the farm, Drake.” He had stepped closer, clasping a firm hand onto Drake’s neck, forcing him to look up. “Some things are more important than crops. I’m not leaving you to bury your mother alone. I’m staying.”
Drake hadn’t pushed further, too exhausted to notice the tight, strained lines around Zeke's eyes. He didn't know the full truth. Zeke hadn't told him about the arguments back in France, or the way Kiara’s infatuation had twisted into an increasingly aggressive, possessive fixation. Zeke knew Drake’s heart belonged entirely to Emilia, and he had seen the warning signs. He knew that if he crossed back over the border now, Kiara would demand to return to Cordonian soil with him. And as far as Zeke was concerned, while Drake was this raw and vulnerable, the absolute further away Kiara stayed, the better.
So he had stayed, quietly handling the heavy chores in the background all week, acting as a shield Drake didn't even know he needed—proving that true brotherhood knew no borders.
Back in the present, the memory faded as the floorboards creaked. Max and Leo parted, stepping back into the shadows of the sitting room as a larger figure approached.
"Let me," Bastien's rough, low voice sounded from the shadows behind him.
The older man stepped into the cramped hallway space, bringing with him the faint, comforting scent of cedar, wool, and mothballs. With steady, practiced hands that didn't share Drake's tremors, Bastien reached up. His weathered fingers, rough from decades of hard manual labour, brushed gently against the rigid line of Drake's jaw as he effortlessly threaded the stubborn button.
Bastien didn't offer empty, hollow platitudes; he knew there were no words in the language of men that could fix a broken heart. Instead, he carefully smoothed down the heavy lapels of Drake’s black coat, pressing out the creases with deliberate, grounding care, before resting his massive, calloused palms flat against the trembling expanse of Drake's chest.
"Listen to me, son," Bastien murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to anchor the shifting room. "Today is going to be the hardest walk of your life. We are saying goodbye to her body today, yes. But Bianca? She is never truly gone from you."
Slowly, Bastien raised a heavy hand, tapping his fingers gently against Drake's shirt, right over the erratic, heavy thudding of his heart. "She's in here." Then, he moved his fingers up, pressing them against Drake's temple with a soft, meaningful pressure that demanded his absolute focus. "And she's in here. In your memories. The people we love fiercely... we carry them with us through the dark, every single day. The world can never truly take that away from you. Make her proud today, son."
The words struck the fragile dam Drake had built against the world. His eyes instantly welled, a hot, blinding sheen of tears spilling over his lower lashes. The tight, suffocating knot that had been strangling him all morning loosened just enough for him to manage a small, heartbreakingly sad smile.
He gave a tight, rough nod, his vision blurring entirely as he stepped forward and threw his large arms around Bastien, burying his face against the older man's shoulder.
He pulled him into a fierce, desperate hug, clinging to him like a man falling off the edge of the earth. Bastien returned it instantly, his own grip tight, unyielding, and fierce, locking around Drake's massive frame to hold him together. In the quiet, narrow hallway, surrounded by the shadows of his oldest friends, Drake let himself lean entirely into the silent, anchoring strength of a father—the one piece of solid ground left when the world had stripped everything else away.
*****
The transition from the cramped, quiet sanctuary of the hallway to the reality waiting outside was a blur of cold air and heavy, synchronised movement. When Drake finally detached himself from Bastien's embrace, his limbs felt like lead, operating entirely on the lingering echoes of autopilot. With Max and Leo flanking him like shields against the world, and Bastien’s steady hand resting firmly between his shoulder blades, Drake stepped out of the small house in Ramada.
The thick, damp mountain mist they had watched from the window did not break; it swallowed them whole. It hung low and heavy over the valley, clinging to the thorny hedges and slicking the ancient stone path that led down toward the village. The walk was silent, save for the rhythmic, wet crunch of their boots against the gravel and the distant, mournful tolling of the parish bell echoing through the fog. By the time the dark, weathered stone walls of the village church materialised through the mist, the dampness had seeped into the shoulders of Drake's coat, a freezing weight that mirrored the chill settling deep into his bones.
But when the heavy oak doors groaned open, the cold mist was instantly cut by a wall of oppressive warmth.
Inside, the air was thick, heavy, and suffocating, dense with the oily scent of melting beeswax, the musk of damp wool from packed pews, and the sweet, almost sickeningly sharp perfume of spring lilies. It was the smell of death wrapped in respect, a clean, sanitized tribute that made Drake’s stomach actively turn.
The small parish was packed to the absolute doors. Friends, neighbours, and old tradesmen from the village lined the pews, their bodies pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. A low, reverent hum of hushed whispers vibrated through the ancient timber rafters, dropping into an absolute, breathless silence the moment Drake’s large frame darkened the doorway. There wasn't an empty space left. For a community that had watched Bianca fight through the harshest years of her life after Jacksons death, this was their final, quiet tribute to a woman who had been a pillar of silent resilience among them.
But for Drake, at the threshold the crowd vanished. The world shrank entirely to the size of a polished oak box resting on the shoulders of the men before him.
When the weight of the casket settled onto Drake’s broad, muscular shoulder, the sheer, physical reality of it nearly brought him to his knees. A choked gasp caught in his throat. It wasn't just wood and brass pressing into his muscle; it was the absolute, crushing finality of a world without her. To his right, Bastien shifted his weight, his jaw set like weathered iron as he took his share of the burden. Behind them, Leo and Max stepped into place, their grips steady, unyielding, and familiar. They were his brothers in every way that mattered, physically anchoring his massive frame because they knew that without them, the sheer gravity of his grief would collapse him into the flagstones.
As they took their first collective step forward, the organ swelled. It wasn't just music—it was a deep, mournful minor chord that vibrated violently through the floorboards, tearing through the soles of Drake's boots and striking straight into his sternum. The sound seemed to split his chest wide open, exposing everything raw inside.
Hold your head up.
Bastien’s earlier words echoed in the hollow space of his mind, but his head felt heavy as lead. His mother was gone. The thought was a jagged, bleeding wound. She had been his anchor, his north star, the one unshakeable certainty in a life defined by hardship. Aside from Emilia, Bianca was his entire world—the only person who loved him unconditionally, who had held him when he was a boy in mismatched boots, and who had quietly bled for him so he could survive. And now, the absolute emptiness of her absence was a physical, bruising ache behind his ribs.
Drake swallowed the suffocating lump in his throat, locked his trembling knees, and lifted his chin. He took the first step.
It felt like wading through deep, freezing mountain water. Every rhythmic step down the long, candle-lit aisle was a step closer to putting her in the cold earth forever. Through the watery, trembling blur in his vision, the sea of familiar faces turned toward them—the local baker, the seamstress, the old men from the tavern. Their eyes were wide with genuine sorrow, tracing the lines of Bianca's casket before shifting to him with immense, protective respect.
But Drake could barely process them. The candlelight danced mockingly against the dark, polished wood of the coffin, casting long, distorted shadows up the stone walls that felt as twisted as the grief tearing at his throat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged animal, each beat loud, hollow, and utterly broken. He wasn't just carrying his mother; he was carrying the carcass of his own childhood.
By the time they reached the altar, Drake's breath was coming in short, ragged, shallow puffs. Together, they lowered the casket onto the wooden trestles with a synchronised, heavy precision. The sudden loss of the physical weight didn't bring relief; it only made him feel dangerously weightless, as if he might break contact with the earth and float away into the gloom of the rafters.
He stepped back into the front pew, his hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists inside his coat pockets to keep them from shaking violently.
The parish priest, a man whose hair had gone white long after he had first known the Walker family, stepped up to the pulpit. He cleared his throat, his soft, melodic voice instantly soothing the weeping in the back rows.
"We are gathered here today not just to mourn a loss, but to celebrate a life that gave so much warmth to our community," the priest began, his eyes drifting kindly, sorrowfully to Drake. "Bianca Walker was a woman of rare, uncomplicated kindness. She possessed a heart that never knew how to close its doors. No matter how little she had, no matter how cold the winter nights grew, her home was a sanctuary. She welcomed anyone she met with open arms, a hot cup of tea, and a smile that could make the heaviest burden feel lighter. She was, in every sense, loved and respected by every soul in this village."
A soft murmur of tearful agreement rippled through the pews. Drake kept his eyes fixed on the polished handles of the coffin, his heart twisting into tighter, uglier knots.
"Anyone who knew Bianca," the priest continued, a gentle, nostalgic smile touching his weathered face, "knew that she met the absolute love of her life the day she met Jackson. Together, they didn't just build a home; they built a life rooted in mutual respect, unshakeable love, and a laughter that used to echo down these very streets. And when Jackson was cruelly, abruptly taken from us, Bianca did not crumble. She gathered up her grief and poured every ounce of that fierce, boundless love into her son."
The priest paused, looking directly at Drake now, his voice softening with immense reverence. "Drake was his mother’s pride and joy. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him. No sacrifice too great, no burden too heavy to shield her boy from the cold. She loved him fiercely, completely, until her very last breath. And today, as we return her to Jackson's side, we see her legacy standing before us—a son who carries her strength."
The words were beautiful. They were everything a grieving son should want to hear. But for Drake, each praise felt like a stunning, silver blade sliding between his ribs.
The bittersweet irony of it nearly choked him. The village loved her for her grace and hospitality. They thought of her sacrifices in terms of long hours at legal jobs and worn-out shoes. They didn't know the dark costs of the winter nights. They didn't know about the bruised eyes, the split lips, or the crushing shame she had scrubbed from her skin at the kitchen sink while the rest of the world slept. They didn't know that the crown's neglect had forced a good woman to trade her soul to keep her son alive.
Beside him, Drake felt a small, trembling hand slide across his knuckles, fingers wrapping around his tightly clenched fist.
Drake didn't turn his head, but his grip loosened just enough to let her in. Leona was sitting right there, her shoulder pressed firmly against his. Her chest heaved with silent, breathless sobs, but her grip on his hand was fierce, unyielding, and heavy with a lifetime of shared history. They were the only two people in the crowded church who knew the real price of the bread he had eaten as a boy.
As the priest spoke of Bianca's unshakeable strength, Leona squeezed his fingers—a silent, grounding pressure that spoke volumes. I am here, the gesture promised. You’re not alone. It was the exact same fierce, protective devotion she had given his mother, now transferred entirely to the boy Bianca had ruined herself to save.
When the priest finished, he stepped down, leaving a heavy, expectant silence hanging over the altar. The liturgy called for a remembrance from the family.
Drake felt Bastien’s hand lightly touch his shoulder from behind, a gentle nudge. His knees felt hollow, but he stood up. The movement was slow, his large frame rising like a shadow against the candlelight. The entire church seemed to hold its breath as he walked the few steps to the front, avoiding the pulpit entirely, choosing instead to stand right beside the dark oak of his mother's casket.
He rested one massive, trembling hand on the top of the wood. For a long, agonising moment, he couldn't speak. He stared out at the sea of faces, his throat completely locked, his chest heaving as he fought for air.
"My mother..." Drake's voice broke on the first syllable, rough and gravelly, cutting through the silence like tearing cloth. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching until the bone clicked. "She didn't have an easy life. Most of you know that. You knew her after my father died. You knew her when the winters were long."
He looked down at the coffin, his calloused thumb tracing the grain of the oak. He couldn't tell them the truth. He couldn't shatter the beautiful, clean memory they had of her. But he needed the universe to know the depth of what she had endured.
"She took the cold so I could have the warmth," Drake whispered, his voice shaking but carrying a sudden, fierce intensity that echoed off the stone walls. "She took every blow the world threw at her, and she never let it touch me. She broke herself to pieces so I could grow up whole. She was... she was the strongest person I will ever know."
His eyes drifted across the front pew, catching Leona’s tear-stained face. A silent, bleeding understanding passed between them.
"I just hope..." Drake's voice cracked, a hot, blinding sheen of tears finally spilling over his lower lashes, tracing a slow path down his hollowed cheek. "I just hope I can carry a fraction of her strength. Because she gave everything she was for me. Everything."
He didn't wipe the tear away. He didn't say another word. He simply leaned down, pressed his forehead briefly against the cold wood of the casket, and stepped back.
When he returned to the pew, he sat heavily, leaning imperceptibly into Leona's side. She instantly found his hand again, locking her fingers through his with a devastating, protective intensity that the peaceful people in the pews would never fully understand.
*****
The final chords of the organ faded into the ancient timber rafters, leaving only the sound of the rain returning with a vengeance, lashing violently against the stained-glass windows.
The walk from the church to the graveyard was a grim, slow-motion blur of black umbrellas and sodden earth. Drake stood at the very edge of the open plot, the freezing Cordonian wind whipping the tail of his coat against his shins as the thick ropes groaned under the strain, slowly lowering the polished oak casket into the dark, wet clay. When it hit the bottom, the sound was hollow, wet, and terribly definitive. Drake watched the first heavy shovel of earth thud onto the lid. Each subsequent mound of dirt felt like a physical blow to his own chest, the final door slamming shut on his childhood forever.
He didn't remember walking away from the graveside. He only knew that the damp, biting cold had settled deep into his marrow by the time they reached the King’s Arms, the village’s lone, weathering tavern.
The landlord, an old friend of Jackson’s whose hands were permanently calloused from decades of pulling pints and clearing fields, had closed the heavy oak doors to the public for the afternoon. A massive, roaring fire crackled fiercely in the hearth, throwing a thick, amber glow over the low timber beams and the worn flagstone floor, but the intense heat couldn't touch the block of ice wedged inside Drake’s chest. The air smelled heavy and comforting—a mixture of woodsmoke, spilled ale, wet wool, and the rich, savoury scent of venison and potato stew the village women had brought to line the long wooden tables.
The pub was packed to the absolute rafters. It was loud—a strange, overwhelming wall of sensory sound made of clinking glasses, blowing noses, and the low, collective rumble of dozens of voices sharing decades of memories.
Standing like a statue near the hearth, Drake was not alone. Leo, Max, and Zeke formed a tight, unbreakable semi-circle around him, acting as silent, protective sentinels to keep the well-wishers from completely suffocating him. They took the brunt of the crowd’s physical weight. Leo stood on his left, greeting the elders with a quiet, respectful familiarity. Max flanked his right, his shoulders subtly shifting to block anyone trying to crowd Drake too closely, while Zeke stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them, his quiet, vigilant presence a steady anchor as he helped accept the condolences of people whose dialect he barely understood.
One by one, the villagers pressed into the small pocket of space his friends managed to preserve.
"She was a saint, Drake," the local blacksmith murmured, leaning past Max to press a heavy, rough hand to Drake’s forearm. "When my girl had the croup winter before last, your mum walked three miles through the mountain drifts just to bring us a batch of her elderberry syrup. Never asked for a penny. Not one."
"Your dad would be so proud of the man you’ve become, son," a silver-haired neighbour whispered, her eyes welling with fresh tears as she offered a tight, trembling nod. "They're back together now. Restin' easy in the quiet."
Drake managed to offer tight, mechanical nods. He forced his lips into small, heartbreakingly sad smiles that didn't reach his hollow eyes. He said thank you until the syllables completely lost their meaning, sounding entirely foreign and empty in his own ears.
Their words were a shield of pure, genuine kindness, but nothing could pierce through the thick, suffocating fog of his grief. The bittersweet irony bled into every single condolence. They spoke of Bianca’s boundless generosity, of her grace, and Jackson's nobility. They didn't know the truth. They didn't know that the very warmth they loved Bianca for was a fire she had fuelled with her own flesh and blood because the Cordonian nobility had left a guard’s widow to starve in the dirt.
Drake took a slow, heavy breath, feeling entirely detached from his own body—a ghost haunting his own mother’s wake.
"Mr. Walker?"
The voice was crisp, formal, and entirely out of place among the rough, gravelly accents of the village. It cut through the tavern's low roar like a pane of glass shattering.
Drake blinked, his vacant stare focusing on a sharp-featured man who had somehow materialised past Max and Leo. He wore an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that looked entirely too clean, too expensive, for the mud-slicked village streets of Ramada. The man held a flat cap in his leather-gloved hands, his expression grave, sharp, and intensely professional.
"I don't mean to intrude on your profound grief," the man said softly, stepping fully into the small pocket of space beside Drake. "My name is Christopher Harrison. I was your mother’s solicitor."
Drake’s brow furrowed slightly, his exhausted mind sluggishly trying to process the word. Solicitor. It didn't compute. His mother was a commoner who had scraped by on pennies, worn-out shoes, and secret, horrific torment. She didn't have legal assets. She didn't have affairs that required a man in a bespoke three-piece suit.
"I was deeply saddened to hear of her passing," Mr. Harrison continued, reaching into the breast pocket of his coat and pulling out a crisp, white business card with elegant, embossed black script. "I only knew her for a short time, but I could tell she was a remarkable woman. Before you make any arrangements to head back across the border to France, you and I need to sit down. I am the executor of her last will and testament."
Drake stared at the card held between the man's fingers. A strange, freezing prickle of unease rippled down his spine, cutting through the emotional numbness of the morning.
"Her... will?" Drake choked out, his voice rough and raspy, sounding like stones grinding together after days of near silence.
"Yes," the solicitor replied with a solemn, unreadable nod. "We have quite a bit to discuss regarding her estate and her final wishes. Please, take my card. Contact my office in the city to arrange an appointment for next week, once the dust has settled here."
Drake’s calloused, stable-hand fingers moved automatically, taking the small piece of pasteboard. The crisp, rigid edges felt incredibly sharp against his rough skin.
"I'll be there," Drake managed, giving a tight, hard nod.
"My deepest condolences, Drake," Mr. Harrison said quietly. He gave a respectful, practiced bow of his head, turned on his heel, and quietly slipped out of the crowded tavern, leaving the heavy oak doors to click shut behind him.
Drake stood absolutely frozen, staring down at the card in his palm. The embossed letters caught the amber light of the hearth fire: Harrison & Associates. The Royal Mile, City of Valen.
The Royal Mile. The most exclusive, heavily guarded legal district in the capital city, serving only the wealthy, the high nobility and the royal court itself.
Drake slowly slipped the card into his coat pocket, his fist clenching around it through the heavy fabric until his knuckles ached. The roar of the pub seemed to fade into a completely dull, distant hum, the warmth of the fire fading away. As he looked back up toward the flames, the grief in his chest suddenly shifted, tightening into a hard, cold, and dangerous knot of profound confusion.
Bianca Walker hadn't just left behind a legacy of survival; she had left behind something else entirely.
I am participating in @emceesynonymroll wacky drabble prompt # 32 “I’ve never lied to you,” which will appear in bold. Also to mix things up I had also seen @god-save-the-keen Rachel Green Prompt # 10 “ I used to think of you as someone who would never, ever hurt me.” Also will be featured in bold.
Pairing: Liam X Riley
Song Inspiration: No Air Jordin Sparks feat. Chris Brown ( i don’t own rights to the music:)
https://youtu.be/WBKnpyoFEBo
All Characters Belong to Pixelberry
Summary: Liam’s Coronation to King. King Liam selects Madeline as the person he will marry. Riley is devastated.
Word Count: So over on this one: 1888 , but you know what, I wouldn’t change a word. I had no desire to try to trim this one. This just felt right as is.
Warnings: Profanity, Depression, Starvation, and a whole lotta sad.
Everything had led up to this point. She was so nervous and excited. She had staggered her re-entrance to the ballroom a few minutes after the Prince to avoid suspicion, as they had just finished making love in the palace maze. The maze where he told her she was the one he wanted and after he was crowned King, he would ask her to marry him. She would say yes. Even the thought of having children, producing heirs for him, didn’t scare her anymore, because the children would be his.
Even though they had just been together, when she entered the room again, she could feel Liam’s eyes on her, intently following her every move. He had seen her naked, a little while ago, one would think he still would not be staring at her in that state of awe fully clothed, but he was. Riley smiled at him. He smiled back.
Then she woke from the sweet dream plunging headfirst into the nightmare.
The scandal revealed ….with pictures of her almost nude for the world to see. Then worst of all, Instead King Liam calling her name, he called Madeline to be his Queen. Wake up Riley this can’t be real… but it was.
A/N: I never thought I was particularly good at the slow burn thing, but this has been 30 chapters coming. Drake and Riley finally consummate their relationship. This time, no one interrupts them in the pool room. This was possibly the most frustrating scene in book two. Especially considering we paid good diamonds for it in game. This is the ending I feel it should have had.
My other stuff: Master List.
“Drake! Drake wait!” Riley hurried to catch up. His legs were longer than hers and she had to jog. She finally caught him as he made it back to the car they had just exited.
“You can’t fix this Riley. I…I just need to get out of here for a little while.” He told her as he pulled the door open.
“That’s fine, I understand.” She replied, “But I’m coming with you!”
“You’re…what?” He asked stupidly as she slid into the car.
Looking back at him, she asked, “Are you coming or what?”
Drake sighed as he climbed in the car behind her and pulled the door shut. Leaning forward he gave the driver instructions to take them to whatever bar was close, “And not a fancy one either, somewhere regular people hang out.”
Sitting back, he looked at her, shaking his head, “You should be getting ready to meet Liam.”
“That’s not for hours. And you need me right now. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I just left you alone when you’re struggling emotionally? For any reason?”
He froze as his eyes traced her face. She had just called herself his girlfriend, which he supposed was technically true. Not that they had defined it. Or really even talked about it. They had gone from him fighting his feelings for her and denying there even was a relationship to having Liam’s blessing to pursue whatever it was, but they hadn’t really had a chance to talk since. They were going to have to have a conversation sooner or later. Sooner was probably better.
Her hand slipped into his and he took it gratefully. He didn’t care what they called it as long as he got to keep touching her like that. He just wanted to be with her, he didn’t need a label for it.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“For what? Being human? You’re allowed to have emotions, Drake. And you’re allowed to feel them.”
“I know. I just meant….it seems like there’s always something that keeps us from just focusing on…well, us.”
“This is us.” She told him, holding their clasped hands up for him to see, “I’m supporting you, just like you’ve done for me a million times. That’s what people who love each other do. Ok?”
He smiled. A moment ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible that he’d be smiling that soon after confronting Bertrand, but she had that effect on him.
“Ok.” He pulled their hands up to his mouth so he could kiss hers. He felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. No one had ever just dropped everything to be there for him before. Liam tried, but he had duties and responsibilities that weren’t always within his control, and Drake understood that. He didn’t hold it against him. Still. Having someone just be there for him felt nice, it felt good.
They pulled up in front of a nondescript hole in the wall with a wooden sign swinging over the entry way with the words “la palourde ivre”.
“Thanks.” He told the driver as they exited the car, “Not sure how long we’ll be.”
“I’ll just be parked out here.” The driver shrugged, pulling out a book to read.
The interior of the bar was dark and dingy. There was an older man behind the bar, Riley and Drake pulled out two creaky bar stools and Drake turned to her, “What are you drinking?”
“Margarita, rocks.”
Drake nodded and turned to the bartender, ordering in French. When the drinks were ready, he sniffed the whiskey tentatively. Riley threw her head back and laughed. Drake glanced up at her, “What?”
“You!” She shook her head, “You complain so much about the fancy stuff, but you are not exactly low maintenance, especially when it comes to your whiskey!”
His brows furrowed for a moment but as he watched her laugh, he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Yeah, ok, you got me there.”
“So, do you wanna talk about your feelings?”
“Can’t we just play darts or something?”
“We can do both!”
“If I have to.” Drake got the darts from the bartender, and they moved to the dartboard. “You know how to play, right?”
“Sure. But to make it interesting, whoever loses each round has to drink?”
“No. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re meeting Liam tonight and I don’t want you to show up shit faced drunk because of me.”
She smirked at him, “And what makes you think I’m going to lose?”
“Did you forget what I do for a living?”
“No…..What’s that go to do with-“
Drake turned toward the dart board and threw three darts at the board. Every one hit the bullseye. “I’m a decorated marksman, Campbell.”
“Damn. That’s impressive, not gonna lie.” Riley threw her darts. Two of them made it onto the board, barely. “Well, shit.”
He smirked as he picked up his glass and took a drink, “It’s ok, I’ll drink. I’m the one drowning my sorrows.”
Riley collected the darts and walked back to the table, “You know it’s not Bertrand’s fault, right?”
“Riley, I-“
“He didn’t know, Drake.”
Drake sighed, “I know, you’re right. But he shouldn’t have made her feel like she couldn’t tell him.” He raked a hand through his hair, “But I guess I can’t talk. She clearly didn’t feel like she could talk to me either.”
“Drake….”
“Why didn’t she think she could come to me, Riley?” He sounded a little broken.
Riley wrapped her arms around him, “I don’t know, babe. But it wasn’t because you weren’t there for her, she told you that herself. She just needed a minute to sort things out, that’s all. You do the same thing you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Run from problems.”
“I don’t-“
“Why are we in this bar right now, Drake?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your first impulse was to run away and take a minute alone to sort things out.”
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
“Only because I forced my way into the car with you.”
“Ok, fine. That’s true, I guess.” He threw his darts again. Again, all three were bullseyes.
“And you can’t stay mad at Max either. He was just being a good friend to her, when she needed one most.”
Drake blew out a frustrated sigh, “I mean, I know you’re right. It just sucks that he knew this whole time and didn’t tell me.”
“It wasn’t his secret to tell.” Riley tossed a dart toward the board, it thunked into the outmost circle. “Damn. You’re going to have to teach me how to do this.”
“Sure.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, taking one of her hands in his own and showing her the proper way to hold the dart. “Now, you’re going to pull your arm back like this…”
Riley tried to focus on the dart, but his entire body was pressed up against hers. He drew her arm back and threw the dart, his hand still controlling hers. The dart hit close to the bullseye. “Damn.” She breathed out, but not because of the dart.
He stepped away from her to take another drink. “Anyway, I’ll get over it, eventually. Like you said, I just needed a minute to process. Guess it is a family trait.”
Riley threw the next dart, and it went wide, not even hitting the board. “Shit! Isn’t there something more fun we can play around here, like pool?”
“You play pool?”
“Yes, I am a pool shark.” She grinned at him, “I want to play something I can win.”
He smirked, “You can’t beat me at pool.”
“Wanna bet?”
“We can bet, but you’re going to lose.”
“You’re on, Walker.”
Drake returned the darts, spoke to the bartender, dropped some money on the counter and made his way back to her.
“So, they have pool tables?”
“Yes, in the back. Two of them are in private rooms. I just rented one of them.”
“Oooh, privacy!” She shot him a playful smile.
He shook his head as he led her down the hallway near the back of the bar, “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“The good kind, I hope.”
He shot her a sidelong glance, “Yeah, the best kind.”
The room was just big enough to hold the pool table and be able to pull your arm back to shoot, and not much bigger. There was a small, round table near the door to put drinks on.
Drake racked up the balls then pulled the rack away. He picked up two cues, handing one to Riley, “Ok, house rules. After the break, we each get one shot per round to sink a ball into the corner pocket. Each ball gets you one point. Best of three rounds wins.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Then go ahead and break.”
Riley faced the triangle of balls on the table and hit them hard enough to make them scatter.
“Good break.” Drake studied the layout of the table before striking the cue ball. It glanced off a purple ball which rolled neatly into a corner pocket. “That’s one.”
“Smooth! Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
He grinned at her, “From my mom, believe it or not. She taught me and Sav all the tricks she knew. My mom was kind of a pool shark.”
“Wow. That’s cool. That must have been adorable. Baby Drake trying to hold a pool stick….”
“Adorable probably isn’t the world my mom would use. I was a handful.”
“And teaching you play a game with giant sticks made that…better?”
“Eh. It kept me occupied. And it made me pretty damn good at pool.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Drake stepped back and gestured at the table, giving her room to line up her first shot.
Riley sent the cue ball glancing off two other balls at just the right angel to send them both rolling into a corner pocket.
“Nice!”
“Do I get a bonus point for earning a compliment from you?”
“You can have all the bonus points you want.” He murmured stepping close and nuzzling at her neck.
She giggled and pushed him away, “That tickles!”
Drake stepped away with a playful slap to her ass.
“Hey! Watch it!” She warned him.
“Oh, I’m watching it.” He smirked at her as he lined up his next shot.
Riley leaned toward him, close enough for her breath to tickle his neck. “You know, you get this little wrinkle in the middle of your forehead when you concentrate. It’s cute.”
“Wha-“ His shot went wild, the cue ball rolling around the table without knocking any others into a pocket. “I…you did that on purpose.”
“Did what?” She fluttered her lashes innocently.
“Distracted me with flirting!” He grabbed her and pulled her body flush against his. He went in for a kiss, but she slipped out of his embrace with a giggle.
“My turn, back up.” She told him, leaning over the table and hiking her back end into the air. She lined up her shot and sank another ball into the corner pocket, “I believe that’s three to one, my favor.”
Drake nodded his head then shook it, “Uh huh. You cheat, Campbell.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Riley said as she started to unbutton her shirt.
Drake leaned over the table, then did a double take. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing. Tik tok, Walker, it’s your shot.” She said as she peeled the blouse off and started unzipping the skirt.
He shook his head and leaned back over the table, but his eyes kept wandering back to her, now standing in nothing but her bra and panties. Suddenly, he threw the pool cue down on the table and turned to grab her, yanking her to him roughly. He crashed his lips into hers as a hand tangled in her hair. When he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on hers, “Are you trying to torture me?”
“Is kissing me torture?” She asked him.
“Yes, the best fucking kind!” He answered, his voice hoarse.
Her hands trailed down his chest. “We’re alone, Drake, how often does that happen?”
His grip on her tightened, “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” she tilted her head up and brought her lips to his, “you could kiss me again, if you wanted to.”
She drew him into her as she bumped up against the pool table. He dropped slow and deliberate kisses down her neck. She pressed her body against his as she tugged at his hair. His hands slid around her ass and lifted her with a growl, sliding her onto the edge of the pool table. His hands moved to unclasp her bra then he stepped back as he slid the garment down her arms and off her body. His eyes traveled slowly down every curve of her body.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and yanked him back toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “If we don’t stop now, I might not be able to stop at all.”
“Who says I want you to stop?” She purred, as she pushed his button-down shirt off his shoulders and tugged his t-shirt up.
He pulled his shirt off then hesitated again, “But, we shouldn’t-“
“How long have we known each other, Drake?” She asked as she lifted her body and slid out of her panties, lowering herself back onto the edge of the table.
“Five months, one week and three days.” He breathed as his hands ghosted across her shoulders.
“And how long have you wanted to do this?” She pulled him closer, and her hands fell to his pants, working them open.
“Since the very first moment I laid eyes on you.” He replied, longing and desperation evident in every word.
“Then what are you waiting for?” She murmured. Her hand slid over him and he hissed in a breath as his body jerked toward her.
“I….you deserve better than a dingy bar-“
“I want it. I want you. I’m tired of waiting, I don’t care where we are, as long as I’m with you. Please, Drake, I need you.”
He gazed into her eyes, and his breath caught at what he saw there. She wanted him and somehow, inexplicably, she loved him. His heart thundered in his chest. He had never wanted any woman as much as he wanted her. He had never loved any woman before. She had broken down every wall he had. She had consumed his thoughts for months; she invaded his dreams at night. And now here she was, her body trembling beneath his touch, waiting, asking, begging for him to take her.
His eyes fell down her body, naked and perfect, her legs open, offering herself to him. Her face was flushed and the desire in her eyes was the truest thing he’d ever seen. His resolve broke and he shuddered as he sank himself into her.
Her arms and legs squeezed him tighter as he thrust into her, his arms closing around her. The heat radiating off his body soaked into hers as her fingers sank into his shoulders and his scent overwhelmed her. She inhaled deeply, a small moan emanating from the back of her throat. She closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her, the intoxicating scent of him, the soft sounds he made as he moved inside her, the feel of his muscles as they coiled and tensed under her hands.
She opened her eyes to watch, raking them across his body, licking her lips as she watched him thrusting into her, then she traced her eyes up his body from his pelvis, where his body connected with hers with every thrust, the coarse dark hair tapering off as her eyes trailed upwards to the washboard abs, the broad chest, finally looking up into his face, flushed and serious as he drew himself in and out of her.
She felt pressure start to build and coil in her center, her fingers dug into him deeper as she bucked her hips into him, matching his pace, pleasure jolting through her every time they made contact, the sound of his ragged breathing pushing her closer to release, the glazed look in his eyes as she stared into them drawing her closer yet. “Fuck, Drake! Oh my god!” She whimpered then her vision swam white as pure ecstasy pulsed through her body.
She threw her head back to scream but his hand clamped down over her mouth in an attempt not to draw attention from anyone passing by outside in the hallway. She bit down on his hand and moaned her pleasure into it, her entire body tingling as the strength of the orgasm pulsed through her.
Her teeth sinking into his hand didn’t hurt. In fact, it only served to push him closer to the edge he was already teetering on. He had waited five long months to be able to touch her like this. For most of that time, he believed those thoughts would stay in the realm of fantasy. Now, here she was, writhing beneath him, calling out his name in the heat of passion, her teeth embedded in his skin, her fingers pressing into him, her legs clenched around him and her walls tightening around him. He wanted to make it last longer, but he couldn’t. His body convulsed as he shoved himself into her again and exploded deep inside her, each pulse throbbing inside her.
Afterwards, they clung to each other, hands and mouths still touching, exploring, claiming every part of the other. Finally, her head rested against his chest as his hand stroked her hair. He sighed, knowing they had to get back to the train, but reluctant to let her go. “I love you.” He murmured softly into her hair.
“I love you too.” She whispered.
She looked up to smile at him and that smile nearly stopped his heart. He didn’t think he would ever get use to that smile being directed at him. That smile made him stupid, made him weak and the most amazing part was that he didn’t even care. It was like he’d been sleep walking all of his life and suddenly he was awake. He let the happiness wash over him for a moment before stepping away from her with a sigh.
He realized in that moment that he would do whatever it took to protect her and to protect what they were trying to build. All of it. Not that he hadn’t already known that. He’d known from the beginning that he’d do whatever she needed, whatever she wanted. He had been hers to command from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Right now, the best way he could protect her was to finish this game with the press. Get Tariq’s confession, and get her engaged to Liam. Becoming queen would back most of her enemies off, turning the fickle and duplicitous court into groveling sycophants, begging her forgiveness for their past treatment of her. More importantly, he’d be able to use the full extent of the law and the royal guard to ensure her physical safety.
“Come on, baby. We have to get you back to the train. You have an opera to get ready for.” He told her, running his hand gently down the curve of her face.
“Ok. But will you stay with me after? Spend the night in my room?”
He smiled down at her, “If that's where you want me, that's where I'll be.”
As the sun began to rise over the Languedoc region of France, the Theron farmhouse hummed with a deep, slumbering warmth. In the sitting room, the great stone hearth had been stoked late into the night, and that heat now radiated throughout the home, chasing away the chill of the mid-winter dawn.
Drake sat up, the thick wool blankets sliding against his chest and pooling around his waist as he stretched, his muscles loosening with a satisfying ache. He listened to the house—the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, the distant, muffled crackle of logs still settling in the grate, and the whistle of the wind as it whispered through the eaves. It was Christmas morning, and the crushing weight which had been a constant pressure in his chest for so long had shifted with a sharp, complicated ache. He was desperate for the arrival of his family, yearning to bury himself in their warmth, yet the agonizing silence from across the border felt louder than ever on a day like today.
He swung his legs out of bed, his feet finding the warm, polished grain of the floorboards, and walked to the window to pull back the curtains. The sight that met him stole his breath.
Outside, the world had been transformed into a pristine, crystalline white. A heavy, undisturbed blanket of snow clung to every branch and fence post, glistening like crushed diamonds under the soft, pre-dawn light. It was breathtakingly beautiful—a silent, icy sanctuary. It pulled a smile from his lips, tethering his heart to his roots with a sudden, visceral ache of nostalgia. He could practically see himself as a child, racing through snow just like this with Leo when they were barely tall enough to reach the fence line, their mittens soaked through, their boots leaving chaotic, sprawling tracks through the slush as they engaged in breathless snowball wars. He could almost feel the phantom sting of cold on his nose and the weight of the lumpy, uneven snowmen they’d built—the ones with pebble eyes and wonky carrot noses that always seemed to slide askew. Then the memories shifted with the passage of years as he recalled the teenage winters where Max had joined them, the three of them sledging down the steep, treacherous slopes of Duchy Ramada until the stars came out, or the exhilarating, dangerous speed of skating across the frozen lake, the ice ringing like a bell beneath their blades.
And today, the past would reach out and touch the present. Leo and Max were crossing the border to spend Christmas with their friend, their brother in every way that mattered, and they were bringing Bianca.
Drake’s smile tightened, a sliver of icy worry cutting through the warmth of the room and tempering his excitement. It had been weeks since he’d seen his mother. The phone calls from the stable office at the château had become the highlight and the bane of his existence. She was always "better," always "getting there," but he couldn't un-hear that rasping edge to her breath or the way her cough hitched, sounding like dry leaves skittering over stone. Just let her be okay, he thought, gripping the windowsill until his knuckles turned pale. Let her be strong enough for the journey. He needed to see her with his own eyes, to see the colour back in her cheeks, to know she wasn't just weathering the storm, but surviving it.
He exhaled a long, shaky breath, intending to head straight down to the kitchen. But as his gaze drifted across the room, it locked onto the scarred wooden desk in the corner. The soft orange glow of the bedside lamp seemed to pull him toward it, entirely dismantling the mental barrier he had tried to build against his heartbreak. He couldn't do it. Before the rest of the world stirred, before his family arrived to occupy his time, he had to reach across the distance. He had to write to the only woman who had ever, and would ever, own his heart.
Defeated by his own desperate longing, he sat down, the wood cool and solid beneath his hands, and pulled a fresh sheet of crisp white paper toward him.
He didn't hesitate—he never did—and the ink flowed with the practiced determination of a man who spoke with his heart and soul. My dearest Emilia, he began.
The frantic desperation of the early days of his banishment, and the fire of his later anger, had burned itself out weeks ago, leaving behind a vast, hollow ache—a quiet, persistent sorrow that defined his days. He traced the words, imagining her sitting in the palace, perhaps holding one of these letters, perhaps reading them before setting them aside. He didn't know what she was doing. He didn't know if she was even alive in her heart, or if she had buried the memory of him deep enough to stop it from hurting. But he didn't write to blame her or to demand answers for why she had never replied to him; he wrote because she was the only anchor he had left in a world that felt increasingly uncertain. He wrote to keep her memory vivid, to keep the dream of them alive, even when the silence from the other side of the border felt like a door slamming shut.
I miss you, he wrote, the pen lingering on the page. I miss the way you look at the stars, the way you laugh when you think no one is watching, the way your skin feels against mine. I miss the passion you have for music and sketching, and the way your smile makes me feel like the most important man in the world.
He loved her with a terrifying, absolute certainty. It was the marrow of his bones, the blood in his veins. He was convinced, with a stubbornness that defied logic and distance, that they were two halves of a whole, and that the universe wouldn't be cruel enough to keep them apart forever. He had to believe it; it was the only thing that kept him going.
He finished the letter, his hand steady even as his heart stuttered and tears welled in his eyes. He sealed the envelope, watching as the white paper disappeared into the slot—a tiny, paper coffin for a declaration of love that might never be answered.
He didn't know if she would ever write back. He didn't know if she even wanted to. For all Drake knew, Emilia had chosen her duty—her crown and her title—over the man she had spent the most magical summer falling in love with amongst the roses. But for today—on this quiet, frost-bitten Christmas morning—and for every day until he saw her again, he would keep writing. He would send his soul and his love to her across the border, piece by piece. He would keep waiting, he would keep hoping, and he would keep breathing in the silence of this farmhouse, until the day he finally saw her again.
Drake quieted his mind, pulled on his jeans and a heavy wool jumper, and placed the letter securely in his pocket before walking down the long, dim hallway toward the kitchen. The deep, comforting warmth of the house grew thicker with every step, accompanied now by the rich, roasted aroma of chicory coffee and the sharp, festive scent of cinnamon and cloves.
When he pushed open the kitchen door, however, the domestic scene that met him was not the one he expected.
Kiara was standing by the heavy cast-iron stove, but she wasn’t wearing her usual practical woollens or a stained cotton apron. She was framed by the soft morning light in a dress of deep, devouring burgundy velvet. It was an exceptionally fine dress, tailored beautifully to nip sharply at her waist before clinging directly to the curve of her hips, the portrait neckline exposing the smooth line of her collarbones and the soft swell of her breasts.
Kiara’s pulse had quickened at the sound of his boots on the floorboards. She had spent hours altering the seams by the dim light of her bedside lamp, pricking her fingers just to ensure the velvet hugged her body like a second skin. She had saved for months for the fabric, scrimping on everything else, all for this exact moment. She knew he would have written one of his letters of love and devotion this morning, just as he always did. She knew he had been thinking of her. Emilia.
Let the ghost across the border try to compete with this, Kiara thought, her jaw tightening as she maintained a bright, effortless smile. Let a piece of paper and a memory compete with flesh and blood.
"Good morning, mon cœur," she purred, turning away from the stove. Her voice was a warm, inviting melody that cut through the quiet hum of the kitchen. "And Joyeux Noël."
"Merry Christmas, Ki," Drake replied, not reacting to the use of the pet name. He offered a friendly smile to the woman he thought of as his friend and saviour. "You look... very festive. That's a beautiful dress."
A rush of genuine, intoxicating warmth flooded Kiara’s chest. He had noticed. The irritation she usually carried at his perceived lack of interest in her melted away, replaced by a fierce, triumphant delight. He had called her beautiful, and she relished the words, letting them settle over her like a victory.
"Do you really think so?" she asked softly, stepping into his personal space. The heavy velvet of her skirt rustled softly against his jeans, a rich, sliding sound in the quiet room. "I wanted today to feel special. It's our first Christmas together, after all."
Drake looked at her, his smile widening slightly with genuine appreciation. "It is. Thank you again for offering to host my mum, Leo, and Max."
"It's my pleasure, Drake," she replied, her voice softening as she looked up at him. "You’re important to me, and therefore so are they."
Drake just smiled, a quiet warmth in his eyes, and tried to step around her toward the counter. But before he could take a full step back, she reached up, her expression shifting into one of tender, domestic care.
"Hold still a moment," she whispered. Her fingers were warm and delicate against the rough wool as she brushed a stray piece of lint from the neckline of his jumper. She let the tips of her fingers linger against the skin of his throat for a second too long, before slowing and deliberately moving her hand downward, tracing the hard lines of his chest through the heavy knit before slowly drawing her hand back. "There. Can't have a handsome man like yourself looking untidy on Christmas morning."
Drake merely offered a nod of gratitude, completely blind to the heavy, loaded nature of the touch. He stepped past her toward the counter, his mind already shifting to the day's logistics. "Thank you. Is the coffee ready? I wanted to get a hot cup into me before I head down to the barn to check the cattle’s water troughs."
"It’s just settling," Kiara said, watching the broad line of his back as he moved. She picked up a heavy ceramic mug, pouring the dark, steaming chicory coffee. "You shouldn't work too hard today, Drake. You already work so many hours at the château. Besides, Zeke has already headed down to the barn. Sit, enjoy the warmth."
She handed him the mug, ensuring her fingers slid slowly across his knuckles as the ceramic changed hands. Drake took a prescriptive sip, the dark liquid chasing away the last remnants of sleep.
"Are you sure?" he asked, glancing toward the window.
"Of course."
"OK. Well, in that case, I'll head into the village after this coffee," he added casually, leaning against the wooden counter. "I want to mail my letter before my mum and the guys arrive. I can pick up any last-minute things we might need for dinner whilst I’m there."
Kiara turned fully toward him, her entire body subtly stiffening. A cold, sharp blade of resentment pierced straight through her earlier joy. The letter. Even today, on Christmas morning, with her standing right in front of him in a dress that had cost her months of sacrifice, he was still planning his morning around that woman. She carefully set down the cloth she was holding, swallowing the sudden, bitter tightness in her throat. He didn't notice the sharp intake of her breath or the way her jaw set before she forced her expression into one of gentle concern.
Instead of turning back to the stove, she stepped across the small space between them. She reached out, her hands soft but firm as she took the warm ceramic mug from his grip and placed it on the counter behind him.
"Drake," she murmured, taking his hands in hers. They were still cool from him standing by his bedroom window, and she began to rub them gently between her own palms, bringing them close to the plush, heavy velvet across her breasts. "It’s Christmas morning. Look outside—the roads are going to be treacherous."
She looked up into his eyes, her gaze full of a soft, pitying affection that masked her deep frustration and longing. "You work yourself to the bone at the château, and I know you're sick with worry about your mother. Yet the very first thing you think to do today is walk through the freezing cold to drop a piece of paper that you know won’t be answered into an empty box?"
Drake frowned slightly, opening his mouth to reply, but she squeezed his hands, stepping closer until the heat of her body practically radiated against his jeans.
"You have been carrying the burden of a broken heart around with you for so long," she whispered, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register as she brought her hand up to caress his cheek. "And for what? For a daily dose of disappointment when you hear nothing back. Let the village wait today. Let the border wait. The people who truly care about you—the ones who are actually crossing borders to see you, the ones who are here right now—we are the ones who really matter. We are the ones who really care about you. Don't exhaust yourself for a memory before your mother even gets here. Let yourself have a break."
Drake didn't pull away from her touch, but a shadow crossed his face, his broad shoulders dropping as the brutal truth of her words settled into his chest. He looked away, his voice raw and thick with months of exhaustion. "I don't know how to stop, Ki. It’s all I have left of her."
Kiara’s thumb swept gently across his cheekbone, her eyes shining with a deeply calculated pity. "I know, mon cœur. But how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself? I care about you, Drake. So much. I hate seeing you break your own heart over a woman who can't even be bothered to reply to you—not when you have so much love inside you. Love that deserves to be returned."
Before the dangerous weight of her words could fully register in his mind, before he could question exactly what she meant by it, she closed the remaining distance and moved completely into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.
To Drake, it was a perfectly natural gesture—a continuation of the deep, familiar comfort they had shared when she had nursed him back to health in his darkest hours. He didn't think twice about the embrace; he simply let out a long, weary sigh and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in return, grateful for the support of the woman he considered his saviour.
But as he rested his chin on the top of her head, completely lost in his anxieties about his mother's health and his unanswered letters, Kiara held him a little tighter. She pressed her face into the rough wool of his jumper, letting her hands slide flat against his back, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his breathing. Emilia was nothing but a fading echo across a distant border, but Kiara was here, rooted in his life. And as long as he stayed in this house, she knew it was only a matter of time before he would forget all about Emilia entirely and become hers.
*****
The sharp, metallic click of the back door latch suddenly severed the heavy silence of the kitchen. It was followed immediately by a blast of winter air that cut through the room's cloistered heat, and the familiar, heavy thud of boots stamping thick crusts of snow onto the hallway doormat.
Kiara didn't release Drake right away. She remained frozen for a fraction of a second, her fingers clenching into the wool of his jumper, desperately anchoring him to her chest as she inhaled the delicious, intoxicating scent of his bay rum aftershave. She wanted to stay exactly like this, in his arms, sheltered from the world, but to her sharp disappointment, Drake’s posture instantly shifted. The comforting illusion shattered as he stepped back, a polite clearing of his throat breaking the intimate spell. He turned toward the hall doorway, a genuine, easy smile wiping the vulnerability from his face.
"Merry Christmas," Zeke said, stepping out of the shadows of the porch. A crisp, icy gust seemed to follow him, clinging to the heavy wool of his dark coat. He pulled off his thick leather mittens, slapping them together, his dark skin flushed a deep, warm crimson from the biting valley wind. He looked between the two of them, his perceptive gaze lingering just a moment too long on his sister's tense, flushed face before he offered a warm, easy smile.
"Merry Christmas, mate," Drake replied, his voice returning to its normal, grounding register. He felt a sudden surge of relief at the sight of his friend. "I was just about to come down to the barn to give you a hand with the water troughs, but Kiara said you had the morning shift completely sorted."
"Yeah, it's all put to bed, don't you worry," Zeke said. He hung his coat on a wooden peg by the door, unhooking a clean ceramic mug from the tree on the counter. He walked over to the stove, pouring himself a stream of the steaming, pitch-black chicory coffee. Leaning back against the worn timber counter, he cradled the hot mug in both hands and looked at Drake with a deep, quiet affection. "Besides, I figured you’d have a hell of a lot on your mind today. I know how much you’ve been pacing the floors over your mother."
Drake’s expression softened, the brief reprieve of the morning dissolving as that persistent shadow of anxiety re-established itself in his eyes. He stared down at his own hands. "Yeah. I just hope when they get here and I see her with my own eyes, I’ll finally feel a bit better. She hasn't sounded herself on the phone the last few weeks. It’s like... a frailty I’ve never heard in her before."
Zeke crossed the small space between them, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight, and clapped a heavy, reassuring hand firmly on Drake’s shoulder. "I'm sure she’s going to be just fine, mate. She’s a fighter, same as you. But no matter what happens today, or any other day, we’re here for you. We’ve got your back. Right, Ki?"
"Always," Kiara chimed in. The word was smooth, but it lacked the easy warmth it usually carried; her jaw had set into a hard line the exact second Drake had stepped out of her embrace. She moved to Drake’s side, her burgundy velvet skirt rustling like dry autumn leaves against his jeans. She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide and intense, filled with a desperate, heavy meaning that she practically willed him to decipher. "You're our family now, Drake. You don't have to carry anything alone."
Drake simply smiled, entirely oblivious to the possessive undercurrent of her words. To him, it was just the profound kindness of the people who had saved his life. "Thanks, guys."
Zeke took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting downward. His eyes locked onto the sharp, distinct rectangular crease straining against the denim of Drake’s jeans pocket. "To be honest, mate, I expected you to already be gone by the time I came up from the barn. Knowing you, I figured you’d be itching to get out to the village mailbox before the snow got any deeper."
Kiara shot her brother a look of pure, unadulterated venom. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her fingers tightening around the handle of the copper coffee pot until the rich brown skin over her knuckles stretched taut, her hand trembling slightly with the force of her grip. Zeke, focused entirely on Drake, didn't notice the silent threat radiating across the stove.
"Actually, we were just talking about that very thing, weren't we, mon cœur?" Kiara said. Her voice dropped into a sweet, artificial purr, a honeyed tone that made Zeke’s eyes instantly snap toward her. His brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing as he caught the jarringly intimate pet name. Kiara ignored her brother, forcing a tight, paper-thin smile as she looked back at Drake. "I was just telling him he needs to let it go today. It’s Christmas morning. He shouldn't be wasting the holiday chasing after ghosts at an empty post box."
Drake shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his thumb nervously tracing the glazed rim of his coffee mug. The internal war raged in his eyes—the desperate compulsion to send his soul and love across the border clashing with the brutal reality of the weather and the silence from Emilia. "I don't know... It... it just feels wrong not mailing it. Like I’m breaking a promise. I think I might try the walk anyway."
"Drake, I told you, the drifts in the lanes are treacherous," Kiara countered quickly, her voice rising slightly, pitched with a sharp undercurrent of panic. She couldn't let him leave this house; she couldn't let him prove, yet again, that the ghost across the border held more power over him than she did. "It’ll take you hours to walk through the snow, and you can't exactly ride your motorcycle in this weather. It’s too dangerous."
Drake looked out the frost-rimmed window at the heavy white landscape, his chest heaving with a long, defeated sigh. His shoulders sagged, the sheer physical impossibility of the journey crushing the fragile hope he had spent the morning nursing. "Oh... right."
"You could take the truck," Zeke offered casually, setting his mug down on the counter with a soft clink. "The winter tyres have plenty of tread left on them, and the bed is weighted down. It drives pretty well in the snow."
Kiara’s head snapped toward her brother, a silent, murderous fury flashing through her eyes. She wanted to scream at him, to choke the words right out of his throat, but Zeke completely refused to meet her gaze. Instead, he kept his eyes locked onto Drake, watching the instant transformation in his friend.
Drake’s face lit up, a sudden, brilliant spark of hope cutting through the exhaustion that had weighed him down just moments ago. It was as if Zeke had handed him a lifeline in the middle of a storm. "Are you sure, mate? I don't want to risk your engine if the roads are that bad."
"Absolutely certain. It needs a run anyway to keep the battery from freezing." Zeke reached into his pocket, his fingers jingling against metal, and pulled out the heavy brass key ring. With an easy, practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed them across the kitchen.
Drake caught them out of the air, the brass cold against his palm, and a genuine, breathtaking smile broke across his handsome features. "Thanks, Zeke. I owe you one. I’ll go right now so I'm back in plenty of time before the guys and my mum arrive."
He hastily downed the last of his lukewarm coffee and grabbed his heavy leather jacket from the wooden hooks near the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves with a renewed, frantic energy. The letter in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, urging him forward. Before he stepped out into the cold, he paused with his hand on the iron latch, looking back at the siblings. "Do we need anything last minute from the bakery or the dry goods shop while I'm out near the village square?"
"No, we’re all good here," Zeke said quickly, intentionally cutting in with a loud, firm voice before Kiara could invent some imaginary household emergency to drag Drake back into the room.
"See you soon, then. Merry Christmas."
The door clicked shut, and a heartbeat later, the heavy, metallic rumble of the truck’s diesel engine roared to life in the snowy farmyard. The sound vibrated through the kitchen floorboards, a slow, steady pulse that gradually faded into a distant hum as the truck navigated the long, snow-packed driveway, eventually disappearing into the suffocating silence of the winter morning.
The stillness that settled over the kitchen was immediate, thick, and utterly suffocating. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall seemed to grow deafeningly loud.
Zeke slowly turned his head, his easy going demeanour vanishing as he levelled a hard, uncompromising stare at his sister. "What the hell is going on with you, Ki?"
"Nothing," Kiara huffed. She spun around on her heel, turning her back to him so he couldn't see the raw anger contorting her features. She violently snatched up a cotton kitchen towel and began scrubbing at a clean spot on the cast-iron stove, her movements erratic and tense. "I just don't think we should be encouraging his delusions, that’s all. We shouldn't be helping him chase after a woman who discarded him like a piece of trash."
"Kiara," Zeke sighed. The sound was heavy, filled with a deep, protective older-brother exhaustion that had carried the weight of her moods for years. He walked over, grabbing the towel from her hand and forcing her to stop the frantic, useless scrubbing. "Look at me."
"What?" she snapped, spinning around to face him. Her jaw was set, her chest heaving beneath the tight burgundy velvet, her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides.
Zeke looked down at her, his voice dropping into a quiet, serious register. "Do you have feelings for him?"
Kiara lifted her chin, her expression instantly hardening into a defensive, stubborn mask that she had used since childhood whenever she was cornered. She gave a sharp, careless shrug of her shoulders, though her eyes remained fiercely alight. "And what if I do? That’s not really any of your business, is it, Zeke?"
"Kiara, look at him," Zeke said softly, his voice a mixture of profound pity and absolute, brutal honesty. "He is in love with another woman. It isn't a crush, and it isn't something he’s just going to wake up and shake off."
"So?" Kiara stepped closer to him, her heels clicking sharply on the stone, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, calculating intensity that made her look entirely unrecognizable. "She’s not here, is she? She’s miles away in a completely different country. I am here. He’s breaking out, Zeke, and I am the one who is actually standing in this house to pick up the pieces. I’m the one who nursed him back from the dead. In time, he will see that I'm the one he’s supposed to be with. Flesh and blood always wins over a memory."
"And what if he doesn't see it?" Zeke asked, his voice steady but laced with a growing sense of dread. "What if he never looks at you that way?"
"He will, Zeke!" she insisted, her voice cracking in a sharp, defensive burst that echoed off the cold kitchen walls. "At some point, he has to face the hard, cold facts. Emilia is not coming back for him. She doesn't love him—if she loved him even a fraction of the amount he loves her; she would be standing in this kitchen right now! She would have replied to at least one of those damn letters! She chose her family's money, her luxury, and her father's approval. She let him be beaten and cast out, and he’s killing himself for nothing."
Zeke looked at his sister, a profound wave of sadness and worry washing over his rugged features. He shook his head slowly, reaching out to touch her arm, but she flinched away from him.
"Kiara, I’m sorry, but you are blind if you think you can just rewrite what’s inside him," Zeke said, his voice dropping to a fierce, protective whisper. "That man is completely, utterly consumed by her. It’s in the way he breathes; it’s in the way he looks at the stars. He loves Emilia with every single thing he has left in his soul. You need to realise right now, before you drown yourself in this, that he might never be able to love anyone else the way he loves her. He literally calls her the love of his life, Ki. You can't compete with that."
"For now, maybe," Kiara whispered. Her voice lost its frantic edge, sinking into a quiet, chilling register that made Zeke's blood run cold. She looked past her brother's shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the empty doorway where Drake had stood just moments before. The raw, manipulative certainty in her eyes was terrifyingly absolute. "But passions fade when they're met with silence. I can make him forget her, Zeke. I know I can. I just have to be patient."
Zeke let out a long, defeated breath, staring at her with a heavy heart. "Kiara, please. I don't want to see you get hurt when this completely blows up in your face. If she ever comes back—"
"She won't," Kiara interrupted, her voice steady and her lips curving into a cold, unwavering smile as she smoothed down the rich, heavy velvet of her dress. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Zeke. Drake will be mine, one way or another. Now drop it. We have a dinner to prepare."
*****
The heavy silence that had settled over the kitchen in Drake’s absence didn't truly dissipate when he returned; it simply reshaped itself. He had walked back into the farmhouse a different man than the one who had left it an hour ago. The denim of his right thigh no longer bore the sharp, rigid outline of the envelope, and its absence left him feeling strangely weightless, almost hollowed out. Yet, beneath that raw vulnerability, a fragile, stubborn spark of hope still refused to be dimmed. He had dropped his soul into that cold metal box in the village square, and on a morning as miraculous as Christmas, he couldn't stop the quiet, desperate prayer echoing in his mind—that across the border, in a palace he could only see in his dreams, Emilia might finally break the silence.
For now, he forced that longing deep into his chest, anchoring himself to the reality of the present. There was no more time for ghosts. Today was for his family.
The kitchen was a battlefield covered in a pristine white tablecloth. The rich, deep aroma of roasting meat and caramelised winter vegetables filled the air, mingling with the festive sharpness of cinnamon and cloves from the stove. On the surface, everything was perfect. But beneath the domestic warmth, the tension between Zeke and Kiara was palpable—a fragile veneer of Christmas hospitality stretched so thin it practically vibrated.
Kiara moved around the space with a rigid, graceful efficiency, her burgundy velvet dress swishing with a sharp, defensive snap every time she passed her brother. Zeke remained leaning against the counter, his large hands cradled around a fresh mug of coffee, his quiet, watchful eyes tracking her movements with a heavy, protective sorrow. Whenever Drake looked their way, Kiara would instantly flash a bright, effortless smile, her voice dropping into that sweet, honeyed register as she asked him to check the carving knife or stoke the grate. But it wasn't just her voice that claimed him. Every time she crossed the kitchen, her hand would press firmly against his shoulder, her fingers lingering as they slowly traced the strong, broad lines of his back. She was incapable of passing him without making physical contact, deliberately marking her territory before his family arrived. Each touch was an aggressive, tactile design to claim him as her own—a desperate attempt to print herself onto his skin and crowd out the lingering memory of Emilia.
And then, the silence was shattered.
The distant, unmistakable rattle of a diesel engine echoed down the long, snow-packed driveway. Drake froze, a wooden spoon hovering over a bubbling pot of gravy, his ears straining as the heavy, rhythmic thrum grew louder, bouncing off the stone walls of the barn before finally dying down into a low, rumbling idle right in the middle of the farmyard.
"They're here," Drake breathed.
He didn't just walk to the door; he moved with a sudden, frantic urgency, abandoning the kitchen and sprinting into the dim hallway. His heart hammered against his ribs, a fierce, desperate joy completely obliterating the anxiety that had clouded his morning. He reached the door just as the floorboards in the hall groaned behind him, Zeke and Kiara following at a more measured pace.
Drake grabbed the iron latch and yanked the door inward.
A violent swirl of winter air and powdery white snow swept into the hallway, but Drake didn't feel the chill. Before he could even step onto the porch, the doorway was completely filled by two large, snow-dusted figures.
"Merry Christmas, mate!" Max’s boisterous voice boomed through the quiet house, completely shattering the suffocating solemnity of the morning.
Before Drake could even open his mouth to reply, Max lunged forward. He didn't just hug Drake; he practically tackled him, his heavy, snow-damp woollen coat slamming into Drake's chest. Max’s hands thudded violently against Drake's back in a series of fierce, bruising slaps, burying his face into Drake’s shoulder with a rough, breathless laugh.
"God, it's good to see you," Max muffled into Drake’s jumper, his grip tightening until Drake’s ribs creaked beneath the pressure.
"Okay Max, don't hog the man!" Leo’s voice cut in, smoother and carrying an undeniable, trembling warmth.
Max finished releasing Drake, stepping back with a wide, wolfish grin, only for Leo to instantly step into the space. Leo didn't say another word. He just reached out and pulled Drake into an embrace that was entirely different from Max's chaotic assault. It was deep, grounding, and fiercely protective. Leo locked his arms around Drake’s shoulders, squeezing him with a silent, desperate strength that spoke of every single boundary, border, and mile they had crossed just to be here. He held him like a man making sure a missing piece of his own soul was actually real, his hand coming up to firmly grip the back of Drake's neck.
Drake closed his eyes, burying his face against Leo’s shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of his friend's coat as a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion threatened to crack his throat wide open. This was his history. This was his blood.
"Missed you, brother," Leo whispered, his voice thick as he gave the back of Drake's neck one final, reassuring squeeze before pulling away.
Max immediately shoved his way back between them, throwing a heavy arm around Drake’s neck. "Alright, enough of the soft stuff, Leo. Come on, Walker, show us where the fire is. We're freezing our bollocks off out here."
Drake laughed—a genuine, booming sound that felt like it was clearing out months of stagnant, lonely air from his lungs. He stepped back with a breathtaking smile, his eyes shining with absolute devotion as he looked at the two of them. "It's so good to see you both. I can't believe you actually made it through the drifts."
The warmth of the moment lingered for a heartbeat, his smile remaining bright as he looked between his two best friends. But as he glanced from Max’s grin to Leo’s quiet eyes, the joyful commotion suddenly felt incomplete. The farmyard behind them was quiet, save for the steady low of the cattle.
The playful edge instantly dropped from his face, his gaze cutting past his friends' broad shoulders to track back out toward Leo’s truck. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice tightening with an immediate, baseline anxiety. "Where's Mum?"
"She's coming, mate. We just made her stay in the cab while we checked the porch wasn't too slippery," Leo said softly, stepping aside.
Max walked back, opening the passenger side door of the truck, and offered a steadying hand. When Bianca stepped down into the thick snow, a sharp, visceral shock slammed into Drake’s chest, stealing the breath right out of his lungs.
She was noticeably, undeniably thinner. The heavy winter coat he had bought her for her birthday last year—the one that used to fit her perfectly—now hung loosely from her frame, the fabric bunching awkwardly around her shoulders as if she were drowning inside it. The vibrant, indomitable posture he had known his entire life had vanished, replaced by a delicate, slightly rounded stoop. As she walked toward the porch, her steps lacked their usual rhythmic, confident snap. She looked small against the vastness of the snowy farmyard.
Drake’s eyes instantly darted to Leo.
Standing on the threshold, the two lifelong friends locked eyes, and an entire, heavy conversation passed between them in absolute silence. It was a look between men who carried a shared burden—an unspoken admission from Leo that said, We’ve been watching over her for you. We’ve tried our absolute best, Drake, but she’s slipping. He gave a slow, barely perceptible shake of his head, a shadow of profound sorrow crossing his face, his jaw tight set with a grim, apologetic helplessness. He and Max had protected Drake's mother as surrogate sons in his absence, but they couldn't protect her from whatever had been ravaging her from the inside out.
The guilt that flooded Drake’s veins was nearly suffocating, a toxic heat that made his stomach turn. This is because of me, he thought brutally. My exile is doing this to her.
Before the panic could completely seize his throat, Max helped Bianca step up onto the porch and cross the threshold into the hallway. The dim light fell across her face, revealing a hollow sharpness to her cheekbones and a deep, grey exhaustion etched into the lines around her eyes. When she lifted her hands to pull off her knitted gloves, they trembled—a fine, persistent shaking that Drake immediately tried to rationalise as nothing more than the biting effect of the winter wind.
But before he could even open his mouth to voice the terrifying questions screaming in his mind, Bianca looked up.
She caught the stark, naked fear freezing his features, and in an instant, her maternal instincts kicked right in. The frail, exhausted woman vanished, buried beneath a fierce, protective shield. She broke into a brilliant, genuinely radiant smile—the same warm, unconditional smile that had kept the dark at bay throughout his entire childhood.
"Look at you," she breathed, her voice carrying that familiar, melodic warmth, completely ignoring her own state as she reached for him. "My beautiful boy."
She lunged forward, pulling him down into her arms. Drake collapsed into her embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the comforting, unchanged scent of her familiar lavender soap. But as his arms wrapped around her back, the dread returned tenfold. She felt lighter, more fragile, as though her bones were made of nothing but balsa wood and glass.
Yet, despite her terrifying physical lack of weight, her hug was fierce. She locked her arms around his broad shoulders with a desperate, unyielding strength, holding onto her son as if she were anchoring them both to the earth.
When she finally let him go, her hands lingered on his arms for a split second, anchoring her balance before she let him guide her down the hallway and into the warmth of the kitchen.
The transition into the bright, sensory-rich room brought her frailty into even sharper focus. As she unbuttoned her loose coat, the light from the hearth caught the hollowed contours of her throat and the translucent, fragile quality of her skin. Max took her coat with a quiet, practiced gentleness, while Leo smoothly pulled out the sturdiest armchair, positioning it right beside the roaring fire.
"There you go, Bee," Leo murmured, his voice dropping into a soft, affectionate register. He and Drake, and later Max, had spent their entire childhood running through her home and taking her sharp, loving scolds whenever they tracked mud across her floors. To him and Max, she was a second mother. They had done everything they could to care for her across the border, but as Bianca sank heavily into the cushions, her eyes never once strayed from her son.
Drake stepped closer, kneeling down by the side of her chair so he was at eye level with her. He reached out, his large hands carefully covering her smaller, trembling ones.
"Mum," he said softly, his voice thick with a desperate, mounting panic. "You’ve lost so much weight. You look... you look completely exhausted. What’s going on?"
Bianca let out a soft, scoffing laugh, a weak wave of her hand trying to dismiss his terror as if it were nothing more than silly drama. "Oh, don't you start, Drake. I’ve had these two clucking over me like a pair of old hens the entire drive. I’m fine."
"You're not fine," Drake insisted, his thumb gently tracing the prominent, fragile bones of her wrist. "Don't lie to me. Please."
She sighed, a small, weary smile touching her lips as she leaned her head back against the chair, absorbing the heavy heat of the flames. "I’ve had a nasty chest infection, that's all. But I’ve been to see the doctor in the village, Drake. Leo took me himself. He ran some tests, checked me all over, and gave me some medication."
Drake’s chest tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs. "And? What did he say? Is the medicine working?"
"I'm on the mend, sweetheart, I promise," Bianca reassured him softly, her fingers gently threading through Drake’s hair. "The doctor thinks the infection only took such a fierce hold because my system was so run down. He concluded it's basically stress—brought on by the shock and the heartbreak of..."
She hesitated, her eyes flicking past Drake's shoulder to where Zeke and Kiara stood listening in the warmth of the kitchen. Bianca knew her son had never told them the full, terrifying truth of his exile. They knew he had fled across the border because Emilia's father had threatened his life, but they had no idea his banishment had actually been ordered by none other than the King himself.
Steeling her expression, Bianca brought her gaze right back to her son, continuing smoothly. "...of you having to leave. He said the worry just weakened my body's defences."
The words hit Drake like a physical blow to the sternum. The air left his lungs in a sharp, silent gasp, and a cold, suffocating wave of guilt flooded his veins, heavy as lead.
This is my fault. The thought was brutal, a jagged blade turning in his chest. I did this to her. It wasn't just a random winter bug; he had caused the vulnerability. His choices, his exile across the border, had stripped away her strength and left her body defenceless against the sickness. He was killing her just by existing in this forced silence. He looked down at her hands, unable to meet her gaze, the sheer weight of the self-reproach threatening to crush him right there on the floor.
Seeing the sudden, agonising slump of his shoulders, Bianca knew instantly where his mind had gone. Her maternal shield flared back to life.
She reached down, her warm, trembling hands cupping his jaw, forcing him to lift his head and look at her. "Look at me, Drake Walker."
When his tear-bright eyes met hers, her expression was fierce, blazing with an absolute, unconditional devotion.
"None of this is your fault, okay?" she whispered, a brilliant, radiant smile breaking across her face. "And seeing you today, holding you, knowing we are spending Christmas together under the same roof... that's the best medicine I could ask for. It makes me feel like a new woman, Drake. Leo and Max have been wonderful, absolute saints to me, but you are my heart. Being here with you is the only medicine I actually need to get better."
Drake stared at her, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his breathing steady. He could see the exhaustion still lingering deep in her eyes, could feel the slight tremor in the fingers pressing against his cheeks. But looking at her radiant smile, he chose to believe her. He slammed the door on his panic and clung to her words like a drowning man gasping for air. He desperately needed to believe that his presence could cure the damage his banishment had caused.
"Then we're not wasting a single second of today," he breathed, managing a fragile, fierce smile of his own as he held onto her hands. "I'm so glad you're here, Mum.”
*****
The afternoon dissolved into the golden, heavy warmth of a perfect Christmas. With Drake, Leo, and Max all under the same roof, the quiet, melancholic corners of the Theron farmhouse were utterly conquered. Zeke stepped over to the corner of the room, switching on the heavy wooden wireless set, and soon the warm, crackling hum of the valves filled the home, casting a comforting, familiar shield of festive music against the cold winter howling outside.
When they finally sat down at the kitchen table, the feast was a triumph of sensory distraction. The rich, savoury steam of the roast, the gleam of the white tablecloth under the amber glow of the candles, and the constant clatter of cutlery created a lively, safe haven.
Bianca sat at the head of the table, watching her son and his friends with a look of absolute, radiant pride. The grey exhaustion in her face seemed to recede under the magic of the afternoon, her eyes shining as she looked at Drake. Max was in rare form, boisterously recounting a disastrous gardening job he, Drake, and Leo had bungled back home as teenagers for his mother's neighbour, his loud, rolling laughter filling the room. Leo sat steady beside him, anchoring the conversation, chiming in with dry, perfectly timed corrections that had Drake laughing so hard his chest ached.
"Honestly, Bee, Max took a pair of rusty shears to the hydrangeas and left them looking like plucked chickens," Leo said, shaking his head.
"They grew back thicker the next spring, didn't they?" Max fired back defensively, pointing his fork at Leo. "That's standard pruning, mate. Tell him, Zeke. You know about land."
Zeke offered a slow, amused grin from his side of the table, leaning back slightly. "Sounds to me like you're lucky she didn't set the dogs on you, Max."
As the laughter rippled around the table, Kiara smoothly reached over, pouring a fresh measure of wine into Drake’s glass before resting her hand firmly over his. "Well, thank goodness Drake doesn't have to worry about any of that anymore," she said, her voice dropping into a sweet, honeyed register that hummed with a quiet possessiveness. "Between his long shifts down at the château stables and everything we do together when he gets back to the farm, he barely has time to think about gardening. I make sure he's looked after, don't I, mon cœur?"
Drake offered her a distracted, friendly smile, completely missing the loaded weight of her words as he gently pulled his hand away to gesture toward Max. "Don't listen to her, Max. I can still out-dig you any day of the week."
A flash of tight frustration rippled across Kiara’s features before she quickly masked it with another elegant sip of her wine. She kept her eyes locked on him, watching the animated line of his jaw and the brightness in his eyes, wishing with absolutely everything in her that he would finally just look at her. That he would love her, claim her, and forget all about his precious Emilia.
For a couple of hours, Bianca was right there in the middle of the joy, smiling and listening to the banter, though Drake noticed she was mostly picking at her food. When Max offered her a second helping of potatoes, she waved it away with a soft, weary laugh.
"I’m fine, thank you," she murmured, leaning back into her chair with a small sigh. "It’s absolutely wonderful, but I can’t seem to eat very much nowadays. I think the long drive this morning tired me out."
"Yeah, Leo’s driving would ruin anyone's appetite," Max chimed in with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, smoothly keeping the mood light. "You take it easy. We’ll finish off the heavy lifting."
Leo offered her a warm smile, reaching over to pour her a fresh glass of water. "Just sit back and enjoy the music, Bee. You've earned a rest."
"I've left some extra blankets by the hearth for you, too," Zeke added quietly, his eyes tracking Bianca with a respectful, protective consideration. "Whenever you’re ready to move away from the table, the fire is stoked."
Drake let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, a relaxed smile settling on his face as he looked at his mother. It made perfect sense, after all. She was recovering from a fierce chest infection and had just endured an exhausting trip across the border. Of course, she was completely spent and not quite ready for a heavy meal. He placed his hand over hers on the table, choosing to focus on the vibrant warmth of the room and the fact that she was here, safe and smiling.
Before long, the meal was finished, the dishes cleared, and the dark, uncertain shadow of his exile was completely locked outside in the snow. For a few beautiful hours, Drake was just a man surrounded by the people who loved him most. Across the room, Leo and Max were arguing in low, affectionate murmurs over who had to do the washing up, their familiar bickering a comforting soundtrack against the crackle of the hearth.
Moving away from the table, Drake crossed to the sofa where Bianca had settled to watch the flickering flames, looking warmer and more content than she had in months. He sat down beside her, smoothly lifting his arm to wrap it securely around her frail shoulders, and she sighed, resting her head against him with a peaceful familiarity.
As the heavy heat of the fire and the warmth of the afternoon washed over them, an overwhelming, monumental sense of peace settled deep into Drake’s chest—a feeling so vast and pure it felt almost holy. For the first time since his exile, the crushing weight he had felt completely lifted from his shoulders, leaving him lighter than he had ever thought possible. He had his friends by his side, their quiet laughter anchoring him to the room, and his mother was safe in his arms, her steady breathing proof that she was on the mend, cured by the simple medicine of being together.
Holding her close, he allowed his mind to drift across the border to the other half of his soul—Emilia, the woman who held his heart in her hands. He thought of her now, wondering what she was doing right in this exact moment, wrapping himself in her memory so vividly she almost felt close enough to touch. A soft, beautifully genuine smile touched his lips, a quiet prayer of pure hope echoing in his mind as he leaned his head gently against his mother's.
He closed his eyes and just breathed her in, holding her tightly against him, completely, tragically unaware of the unforgiving clock ticking down over Bianca’s life.
As they walk out the maze and make way to where the party is being held. Liam turns to her smiling “We should blend back into our roles now until the next time Lady Riley” He kisses her hand the kiss lingering
Riley blushes as she pulls her hand away “Of course Liam”
Liam smiles as he watches her walk away then he sighs Ugh how I wanted to spend more time with her but duty calls He squares his shoulders and walks to the crowd of nobles and quest greeting each of them with a smile. As he heads to his seat Olivia walks right in front of him
“Prince Liam!” She gives him a bright smile
“Lady Olivia how are you doing today?”
“Just fine Liam I was hoping we could talk”
“Sorry Lady Olivia but I have many guest to greet” Liam tries to step around her but Olivia blocks his path
“But it’s really important Liam can we find somewhere quiet?”
“I would but the dinner is about to start we need to keep to time” Liam tries again to step around again but Olivia stands in they way
Olivia looks at him irritated “Keep to time? Yet you have time for Riley?”
Liam looks at her surprised “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Olivia crosses her arms “You’re always with Riley you don’t think I see you two sneaking off together?!”
“Olivia…”
“She’s from New York Liam a commoner she’s not one of us don’t you understand?” Liam grits his teeth as she continues “How can you choose her over all the noble ladies here? What’s so special about her?”
Liam looks around hoping no one heard her then leans in whispering “You may only see her status but I see beyond that”
Olivia looked at him shocked then looked down “Liam…”
“Excuse me Olivia” Liam walked around her he gritted his teeth as he walk Can’t believe her it’s my decision not hers
****
Riley walking to her seat overhearing Kiara and Penelope talking with Madeline she smiles as Kiara and Penelope all see how Liam is gonna choose her she almost laughs at the fact Madeline is disappointed. Riley is so lost in her thoughts she bumps right into Tariq
“Oh Tariq I apologize”
He grins “It’s nothing really Lady Riley it’s always a pleasure to see you”
Riley looks at him confused Why is he looking at me like that? She brushes off her concerns and smiles “Tariq how have you been”
“As splendid as you look my dear”
He’s being weird “Isn’t improper to compliment a suitor of Prince Liam like that?”
“I would hardly consider it improper to recognize beauty in any form”
“Uh thanks?” Why is he talking like this?
Tariq grins “It fills me with such joy to hear you say that you know I have to tell you after speaking with other ladies hear I find myself having such an appreciation for you”
“Really?”
“Yes you’re a breath of fresh New York air”
“I don’t think anyone says that”
Tariq sighs “The other suitors are absolutely boring one only talks about her dogs another merely sulks and don’t get me started on Olivia”
Riley nods “They aren’t the easiest to hang out with”
“Precisely the other suitors have good breeding wealth and manners but they’re absolutely dull how disappointing where as you Lady Riley you grow more interesting every time we speak”
“Thanks…”
“I must however take my leave may you have a fantastic evening”
Riley watches him looking confused That was weird
Maxwell walks up to her “There’s our little social star is that Tariq you were talking to?”
“Yeah I guess we’re friends now”
Maxwell nods “Cool well Bertrand and I just got a table this way”
Maxwell guides her to the table and they sit down next to Bertrand
Liam clicks his glass “If I may have everyone’s attention please I’d like to say a few words before we close this evening first I’d like to thank all of you for joining us out here at the country estate I’ve had the honor and privilege to have you in my court and I couldn’t have asked for better company as I step into my father’s place in a few days I can only hope that I’m half the man he’s been for Cordonia I’ve had the honor and privilege to have you in my court and I couldn’t have asked for better company”
Riley smiles as she claps with everyone
Liam grins “Thank you all when next we meet like this it’ll be the last event of the social season ass per tradition this even will be hosted at the illustrious Beaumont House”
Maxwell pumps his fist “Yeah!”
Bertrand grins “An honor to be sure”
Riley turns to them wide eyed and whispers “Aren’t we a little strapped for funds can we afford to host a party right now?”
Bertrand and Maxwell look at each other and sigh
Maxwell nods sadly “I’m not sure we have a choice like Liam said it’s a tradition we can’t back out”
Bertrand clenches his fists “Yes if we back out now we might as well announce in the daily paper that we’re officially ruined”
Riley nods as Liam raises his glass in a toast determined They’re right we can’t let this break us
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: this is really about the sibling relationship, see author's note below
Rating: G
Warnings for this chapter: none
Word Count: 593
A/N: This is a short one-shot for the spring holiday event at @choicesholidays. Holiday: National Sibling Day, which was on April 10th. I wanted to rewrite coronation night from the perspective of the people who had the trajectory of their lives changed, either by abdicating or by being the one to step up. And I wanted to show the strength of the sibling relationship through that. With that in mind, this is an AU in which the scandal never happens because I want the focus of this piece to be on the coronation itself and not on someone getting dragged out of it.
My other stuff: Master List.
The grand ballroom was packed. It was coronation night and half of Cordonia had turned out to watch.
The other half would be watching from their television sets. News crews were spread out in strategic places throughout the room.
The former crown prince took his place in the audience. A scant few months ago he thought it would be him on that dais, his head that would be receiving the crown, his life that would be dedicated to duty and sacrifice.
He wondered if he had dumped too much responsibility into his younger sibling’s lap, but he knew that, between the two of them, he was the less prepared to rule, the less willing to make the sacrifices that needed to be made.
He had been prepared to rule, yes. He had been raised to rule, yes. But everything changed when he met her.
He’d given up the crown and abdicated his place in the line of succession for love. He glanced down at the woman next to him, his heart swelling with emotion as she smiled up at him.
It had been worth it. He had no regrets.
He stole a quick glance across the room at his brother’s face, thinking about how much they had in common.
On the dais, Cordonia’s next monarch stood next to their father, eyes scanning the room and lighting up when they landed on him. He smiled back encouragingly, quashing the sliver of guilt that remained even though he was confident he had made the best choice for everyone involved.
He knew his father disapproved but what was done was done.
Constantine stepped up to the microphone and started his speech, “Fellow Cordonians, welcome! I’m so pleased to have you all join us for tonight’s historic event! I appreciate your patience; I know this isn’t the Rys you were originally expecting, but this is exactly why royal couples from time immemorial are encouraged to produce spares!”
There was polite laughter from the audience as the two brothers locked eyes across the room remembering how their father had privately accused his children of playing musical chairs with the monarchy.
But the Rys children had made a pact long ago to stand united in the face of their father’s disapproval and they had never wavered from that alliance even into adulthood. The fact that the youngest sibling was standing on the dais instead of the oldest was proof of that.
Constantine finished his speech and Liam tore his eyes away from Leo to watch as their father placed the crown on Lena’s head.
He had willingly stepped up when Leo abdicated for love, and Lena had willingly stepped up when he’d done the same. He glanced down at Riley as he applauded knowing he had made the right choice. He smiled across the room at Leo who stood next to his new wife, Olivia Nevrakis Rys and he whistled and shouted in approval when his sister made her selection and got engaged to Hana Lee.
Their father had little choice after Lena had threatened to also abdicate if not allowed to make her own choice freely. Leo and Liam had backed her up and both had promised to acquiesce to their father’s wishes for them to stay and support the monarchy if she was given that freedom.
All three Rys children had been able to choose love for themselves because all three had loved and supported each other. Together, they had overcome their father’s attempt to control their lives. Together, they would lead Cordonia into a better future.
A/N: This is me officially giving up on predicting the length of this story. 🤷🏻♀️
My other stuff: Master List.
Riley jumped as the door slammed behind Liam. She turned back to Drake, “What do you mean I have no idea what I’ve just done?”
“I mean…you’ve only known the charming and polite Liam, the person he is when he’s getting his way.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you don’t know what he’s capable of! Liam handles things…differently.”
“Differently how?”
“Okay, so take me for example. I’m a simple man, Riley. Straightforward. Nick pissed me off, I punched him. Tariq threatened you, I punched him. Simple. Out in the open. Resolved and moved on from. But Liam? He can destroy a person’s life from the ground up and they never see him coming until it’s too late.”
“Liam wouldn’t-
“Oh, he would, he can, and he has! I’m telling you…you don’t know him like I do! If I haven’t been fired, had my clearance revoked, and been shut out of all our systems by the time he makes it back to the office, I’ll eat my shoes.”
“But…you’re his best friend!”
“Who just betrayed him.”
“You didn’t-“
“As far as he’s concerned, I did and that’s all that matters. I told you, absolute monarchy.”
“What will you do if he fires you?”
“The job is the least of my concerns, Riley. I told you; I have money. I can get by without an income for a while. I can get another job, somewhere else, but…”
“But?”
“But I can almost guarantee he’ll have all my domestic assets frozen by nightfall. He can make it impossible for me to find another job, he can seize this property if he wants to and frankly if he decides to arrest me, I could spend the rest of my life in a prison cell.”
“But you’ve done nothing wrong or illegal!” She protested, “Surely a jury-“
“Doesn’t matter. There won’t be a trail. This isn’t America.”
“Why would he do any of that?”
“Because in his mind, I just took something that belonged to him. Liam Rys doesn’t do tit-for-tat. He goes for shock and awe. Slight him, he will raze your life to the ground.”
“I…I don’t believe you! He’s just hurt right now, he’ll calm down, you’ll see.”
Drake plucked his phone up from the coffee table where she had placed it and dialed. Putting it on speaker phone while it rang, he held it toward her so she could hear the conversation.
“Who are you calling?”
“Jason Toussaint, the Lieutenant in charge of cyber operations,” he answered.
The call connected, “Drake? What the hell is going on? I just got orders to lock you out of all systems.”
“Hey, Jason,” Drake spoke into the phone, “Has my employment been terminated?”
“Yes, and all security clearances revoked,” Jason answered, “What the hell is going on, cap?”
Drake gave Riley an I told you so look before answering, “Has the order been given to freeze my assets?”
“Yes, but I haven’t done it yet.”
“The assets don’t matter,” Drake answered, “but do that last.”
“All right. I’ll buy you as much time as I can, but be advised that your passport has been revoked.”
“Noted. Thanks, Jason.”
Drake hung up the phone and started pacing.
Riley watched him, anxiety spinning her mind in a million different directions. “What are we going to do?”
Drake stopped pacing and turned to face her, “We need to go, now!”
“Where?”
“Anywhere that isn’t Cordonia or a country that has an extradition treaty with Cordonia. His reach ends at the border.”
“Okay, but how do we do that if you don’t have a passport?”
“We get creative!” He smiled reassuringly at her, “Don’t worry, I have a plan! Go pack your stuff!”
It didn’t take her long because she had barely unpacked. When she came back down the stairs, Drake was just hanging up the phone, “Who was that? Is everything okay?”
“I just found out from my contact in MiSHI that the person Tariq was working with is Bastien.” He said grimly, “And there’s only one person he takes orders from.”
“Who’s that?”
“Constantine.”
Riley’s heart dropped, “Liam’s father?”
“Yes, the fucking bastard! This makes it even more imperative that we get out of the country as soon as possible. If Constantine has determined that you’re not suitable marriage material for his son, he will go to any lengths to ensure he stays away from you.”
“Okay,” she took a deep breath as she nodded, “I’m packed, we can go!”
“Me too,” He pointed to a duffle bag laying by the door, “I’ll go grab your bags, you go grab some snacks from the kitchen so we don’t have to stop any more than necessary.”
“On it!”
“There’s a cooler under the cabinet closest to the fridge!” He called over his shoulder as he bounded up the stairs.
Fifteen minutes later their stuff was loaded into the back of a nondescript range rover.
Confusion pulled through her, “Where did that come from and where’s your car?”
“My car is stashed in the garage around back where this was parked. It won’t be easily seen unless someone is looking for it. And they won’t be. They’ll be looking for it out on the road, but they won’t find it because we’ll be in this!” He grinned at her as he dangled the keys, “It was my sister’s. They won’t think to look for her car. I doubt Liam even remembers she had a car before she left!”
“Savannah, right?” she asked as she slid into the passenger seat, “You told me about her. You never told me why she left.”
“Because some fucking duke used her and threw her away like she was garbage!” he climbed into the driver’s seat and put the car in gear as he spoke, “Made a big deal about how she was good enough to fuck but not good enough to marry. Then she found out she was pregnant and was afraid the guy would take her to court and get custody of the kid. And he would have won because he had all the money and all the power. So I helped her move away before anyone here even knew she was pregnant.”
“Jesus…that…that sucks, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay,” he shrugged, “Fuck that guy. She dodged a bullet if you ask me.”
He navigated the vehicle down the rutted-out path and eventually onto a better, but still rough dirt road. It took twenty minutes before they hit pavement.
“So…an officer in the Royal Guard, huh?”
“Yes, the youngest Captain in the history of the guard!” he told her proudly.
“I’m sorry you’re giving that up.”
“What?” he pulled his eyes from the road briefly to look at her, “It’s fine. I did what had to be done. I have no regrets.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, if titles and money were what you cared about, mine weren’t going to impress you. I’m a captain in the Cordonian Royal Guard, not a crown prince or even a duke. I make good money and I have a small inheritance from my grandmother, but I can’t compete with billionaires.”
“I don’t care about your money, Drake.” She sighed, “I literally chose you over a crown prince, remember?”
That got a smile out of him, “You did, didn’t you?”
She smiled back, “I did.”
“I still can’t believe you did that!” his voice held a note of awe as his hand reached for hers.
She squeezed his back and smiled, “So where are we going?”
“To Hadley Airfield.”
“What is that and why are we going there?”
“It’s an old government-owned airstrip that’s still staffed by the guard, but used primarily for non-military purposes. Crop dusting, running supplies for research missions, shit like that. It’s a low priority for upgrades so it’s still pretty low-tech. I won’t need to swipe a key card to get in, just punch in a code that I’d bet money no one has thought to change, and even if they did, they’d have to physically send someone there to do it.”
“So…what? We’re going to steal a plane?”
He gave her a mischievous grin, “Yep.”
“Wait…seriously?”
“Seriously. An old one that can’t be controlled remotely. Then we’re going to fly right over the border into Auvernall. No extradition treaty and they have an international airport there.”
They would ditch the stolen plane and melt into the masses of people in Auvernall before hopping a flight to anywhere in the world and disappearing off Liam’s radar forever.
“And just who the hell is going to fly this plane?”
“I am!”
“You’re a pilot?”
His grin widened, it was downright cocksure as he answered, “Before I joined the guard, my prior service was in the Cordonian Royal Air Force, babe. Yes, I can fly a plane.”
Five hours later they pulled up to a rusted metal gate and stopped at an unmanned guard station. Drake rolled the window down and typed a code into the box. The gate made a loud buzzing sound and then slid open.
“Told you!” He gloated as they drove unimpeded into the airport.
“I never doubted you!”
He navigated the Range Rover through the airport to a row of metal aircraft hangers in the back. He pulled up next to a small office building and put the vehicle in park. “I have to go inside and check the logs.”
“Why?”
“I need to know which planes are fueled and ready to go. I need to know the flight schedule. The last thing we want is to take a plane with a mechanical issue, not enough fuel or to take off at the wrong time and crash into another aircraft.”
“Okay,” She nodded, “I’m coming with you!”
“No,” he shook his head, “You should stay in the car.”
“And what if someone comes to ask me what I’m going here?”
He rolled that around in his head for a few seconds before acquiescing, “All right. Let’s go!”
A bell tinkled as they entered the office. An air-conditioned blast hit them, a stark contrast to the heat and humidity outside.
A slender, blonde-haired man with a crew cut looked up from his seat at the desk, “Hey, you can’t be in here-“
Drake flashed his badge at the young corporal, “I need access to the flight schedule and maintenance records.”
“Yes, sir!” The corporal surged to his feet, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to produce the records.
After thrusting the requested documents into Drake’s hands, the young man glanced in Riley’s direction.
“Hey!” Drake snapped his fingers in the kid’s face, “She’s not your concern!”
“R-Right! Sorry!”
Drake flipped quickly through some pages on a clipboard before tossing them onto the desktop. He grabbed Riley’s arm and aimed her toward the door, “Come on, let’s go!”
The bell jingled as the door opened again and a lone figure strode through it, blocking the light so all Riley could make out was a silhouette.
Drake took several steps back, pulling Riley with him, “Bas? What are you doing here? How did you know-“
“You don’t think I remember Leo giving us the slip just like this when you were partnered with me during your training year?”
“Shit! Fuck!” Drake kicked at a pile of boxes, sending them toppling over. He pulled Riley closer and put his mouth to her ear so only she could hear, “When I tell you to go, you get in the car and go. Meet me at hanger forty-seven. Got it? Don’t talk. Just nod if you understand.”
She nodded as he discreetly pressed his keys into the palm of her hand.
“This place is going to be swarming with King’s Guards any minute,” Bastien flashed his badge at the corporal and told him, “Go on kid, get out of here before you end up in the middle of a shootout.”
The kid scrambled out the door without a backward glance.
Why are you doing this, Bas?” Drake asked, “I thought you believed she wasn’t good enough to marry Liam.”
“What I believe doesn’t matter, I have my orders, I can’t let you leave,” Bastien reached for Riley’s arm.
Drake moved quickly, pulling her out of his reach, “God damn it, Bas! I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“I’m trying to help you-“
“Go!” Drake spun Riley toward the door with one arm as the other shot out to clothesline the older man.
Riley hit the door running and didn’t slow down until she skidded into the Range Rover. She yanked the door open, clambered up into the driver’s seat, and threw the car in gear, leaving rubber on the asphalt as she careened out of the parking area.
Her eyes scanned the dingy metal hangers as she drove. They each had a number painted on them in now faded yellow paint. When she found the correct one, she drove straight into it and slammed the brakes on.
Flinging the door open, she rushed back to push the sliding doors of the hangar shut.
Maybe that would slow them down. She ran back to the car and started transferring luggage to the plane.
When she was done, she began pacing back and forth across the hangar. Minutes ticked by as she considered going back.
She started talking to herself, “What if he got hurt? What if he got arrested? Fuck!”
She made up her mind to go back if he didn’t appear within the next two minutes. Out loud she said, “Come on, Drake! Where are you?”
Footsteps sounded near the rear of the hangar, and she whirled toward it, ready to run.
Drake stepped away from a small door she hadn’t noticed before. He grinned at her, “I’m right here, Brooks. Miss me?”
“Oh, thank God!” She rushed into his arms, “What happened?”
“I had to knock Bastien out,” he said grimly as he caught her, “he wasn’t going to let us leave.”
“I’m sorry, I know you were close.”
“Yeah, well, he may have been my godfather and he may have loved my mother,” Drake said as he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, “but his first loyalty was always to the crown.”
“Well, I’m still sorry you had to hurt him.”
“It’s okay, he’ll recover,” he told her as he released her, “But we have minutes to get out of here before soldiers are everywhere. Let’s go!”
He took her by the hand and headed for the plane. He made it to the steps when she pulled her hand away, “Wait! I forgot-“
“There’s no time!”
“Your phone! It’s in the console!”
Shit! He was going to need that to reach his contact in Auvenall. “I’ll get it, you get on the plane!” He reversed direction and pushed past her.
He scooped the phone out of the center console and didn’t bother closing the door as he hustled back to the plane.
Riley was still standing at the bottom of the steps, waiting for him, instead of on the plane like he’d told her.
“Freeze!” The doors of the hanger banged open as soldiers poured into the room, scattering and taking up tactical positions around the area.
Drake pushed her in front of him, “Get on the plane!”
“But-“ she stumbled as he guided her body forward while her head moved around to see behind them.
“Riley! Drake!” Liam’s voice rang out as he stepped past the guardsmen.
Drake spun around, yanking a nine-millimeter Baretta from the waistband of his pants. He leveled the firearm at Liam while making sure to keep himself situated in front of Riley, blocking her from any potential gunfire.
Every assault rifle in the place was suddenly aimed at them as the king’s life was threatened.
“It’s okay, hold your fire!” Liam yelled at them as he held his arms out to the side to indicate that he himself was unarmed. He couldn’t risk Riley getting shot when they took Drake down. “Are you going to shoot me, Drake? Your best friend? Your brother?”
“Is that what you are?”
“You know it is,” Liam replied calmly.
“Did you tell Riley that I was obsessed with her? That I was unhinged?” Drake demanded.
Liam’s eyes slid to Riley’s face then back to Drake, “You have been acting erratically, Drake. Nick…Tariq…coronation night…this! Stealing a plane? Really?”
“Borrowing it,” Drake corrected him, “You can have it back once we’re safely out of the country.”
“This is treason, Drake. Come on, man. Be reasonable!”
Drake’s back pressed against Riley, eyes still trained on Liam as he moved backward, nudging her up the first step. In a low voice, he told her, “Everything I did, I did for you! You understand that, right?”
“Don’t move!” One of the guardsmen yelled as Drake edged Riley up another step.
A rifle clicked.
Riley’s gaze swung around the room to take in the ridiculous number of guns pointed directly at Drake’s chest. “No!” she pushed around and in front of him, placing herself between him and the guns.
“Riley, don’t!” Both men yelled.
She spread both arms out in the air, “I won’t let you shoot him! Liam, please! He’s your best friend!”
“I don’t want to hurt him, Riley, but-“
An officer stepped up next to Liam and whispered something in his ear.
Drake kept the handgun grasped in one hand while the other landed on her shoulder, “Riley, get behind me and get on the plane!”
“No! They’ll shoot you!”
“Riley-“
Liam’s features hardened, “Riley, you don’t understand-“
“No, I don’t Liam! Why can’t we just leave?”
“Well for starters, Bastien is dead, and we have some questions,” Liam replied grimly.
“What?” Drake stumbled back like he’d been struck, shaking his head, “No! No!”
Liam’s face reddened, and his voice was laden with accusation, “You killed him!”
“No! I just disabled him! He was alive when I left!”
“Then who killed him, Drake?”
“I don’t know, Liam, you tell me!”
“Are you insinuating-“
“I’m not just insinuating, Li! You had him killed so he couldn’t reveal your father’s part in the plot against Riley!” Drake accused, then after a moment’s thought added, “And possibly so you could pin it on me!”
Liam’s eyes darted from Drake to Riley, “You’re not buying any of this, are you?”
“I don’t know, Liam.” Her eyes narrowed, “When I chose Drake, you told me I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. That sure sounded like a threat.”
“When I said you’d made a mistake, I meant by trusting him!”
“But Drake’s been telling the truth about you, Liam, I heard it myself!”
“From whom?” Liam asked in astonishment.
“Jason.”
“Who’s Jason?”
Her confidence wavered, “The Lieutenant in charge of cyber security…”
“There’s no Lieutenant named Jason in the cyber division, Riley.” Liam shook his head sadly then extended his arm toward her, “Come on, Riley, just take a few steps forward and all this can be over.”
Drake’s fingers dug into her shoulder, as he moved up another step, pulling her after him, “He’s lying, Riley! Can’t you see that?”
“No, Riley,” Liam moved his fingers in a come hither motion, “He’s lying! Just take a few steps forward and come here.”
“So…you didn’t fire him and revoke his clearance?” Riley asked, uncertainty coloring her voice.
“Of course, I fired him and revoked his clearance!” Liam exploded, throwing both hands in the air, “he abused his position and literally kidnapped you!”
“I rescued you, Riley!” Drake protested, “He told you himself, he wanted you on that plane that night!”
Riley’s mind spun with indecision. She still had questions, “What about his assets?”
Liam’s brows furrowed, “What about them?”
“Did you have them frozen? Did you revoke his passport?”
“Yes! Because I was trying to stop him from doing exactly what he’s doing right now! Once he gets you out of Cordonia, I won’t be able to protect you! But it didn’t matter anyway.”
“What do you mean, it didn’t matter?”
“I mean…he had no assets to freeze. Why is that Drake?”
Drake shrugged as he adjusted the Barretta in his grip, “I moved all my assets out of Cordonia two days ago, Liam.”
“And why would you do that if you weren’t planning this little escapade all along?”
“Because I know how you operate! I had to protect myself, and her!” He lowered his voice so only Riley could hear, “That’s why I told Jason to do that part last. So it took longer for Liam to figure out I was a step ahead.”
“Me?” Liam scoffed, “I think you’re the tactical genius here.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Drake said evenly as he moved up another step, pulling Riley up with him.
“I mean….I’m beginning to think maybe you were behind the whole setup with Tariq!”
“You think I sent him to do the thing I beat the dog shit out of him for? I never pegged you as delusional, Li.”
“Maybe you didn’t know about that part. Maybe that was all Bas’s idea.”
“Bas?” Drake snorted, “You know he only took orders from one person…your father! And we all know how badly he wanted you married to Madeleine! Speaking of Madeleine, are we sure she wasn’t in on the whole thing?”
“My father is far too sick to be meddling in my affairs. We all know the person Bas would have done anything for was you!”
“What?” Riley froze, almost to the top step.
“Think about it, Riley!” Liam insisted, “He contrived the entire scandal precisely because he knew what the protocol would be, he’s a trained, high-ranking officer after all! And he knew precisely what my reaction would be. He likes pointing out how well he knows me. He’s right. He does! He knew I’d want you out of the country and out of harm’s way while I investigated and cleared your name. It was the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and play the hero, paint me as the villain. Which is exactly what he did, isn’t it?”
Panic laced Drake’s voice, “Riley, you’re not buying this, are you? He’s twisting everything!”
“How convenient that Bastien is dead,” Liam continued, “He was the only person that could have connected you to the scandal.”
“The only person that could have exonerated me and implicated your father you mean! That is convenient, isn’t it?”
“Riley, come here!” Liam’s voice cracked, betraying signs of his rising desperation.
“Riley, get on the plane…” Drake pleaded.
She hesitated as everything they had both said swirled through her mind. They both made persuasive arguments. She was never going to know the truth either way. How well did she really know either of these men?
There was one thing she did know for sure though, “Liam, I know one thing...”
“What’s that?”
“I know you’re a liar!”
His arm dropped as shock coursed through him, “What?”
“You told me you loved me! You told me you were going to marry me! You fucked me in the hedge maze and then you turned around five minutes later and got engaged to another woman while letting me be drug out of the palace under armed guard!”
“That was different! I’ve explained why! I have to think about Cordonia, Riley!”
“I understand that Liam. I do.” She nodded.
His body sagged with relief, “Good. Okay, come here,” he held his arm out toward her again.
She stepped back, her body pushing Drake up another step, “But…”
All the stress rushed back into his body, “But?”
“But I need a man who puts me first and Drake has proven he’s more than up to that task.”
Liam’s mouth fell open, “Even if he’s a liar and a murderer?”
“He’s not, Liam. You’re wrong about him!”
Drake took one more step back, into the plane then dropped the gun as he yanked Riley inside and slammed the door.
“Goddamn it!” Liam kicked fruitlessly at the ground.
“Sir?” The officer in charge of the scene approached him as the plane’s engine roared to life, sending half the contents of the hangar flying through the air.
Shouts of “Cover! Cover!” pinged off the walls as Liam was yanked backward and drug to safety.
Men scattered and dove out of the way as the plane taxied out of the hangar and onto the runway.
“Sir!” The commander yelled, “We can still stop them! We can aim for the pilot or the fuel tank!”
Liam watched as the plane picked up speed. He shook his head, “No, if the pilot’s dead, the plane will crash, if it loses all its fuel, there’s a chance it gets airborne before it runs out and plummets to the ground.”
He still wasn’t willing to risk her life.
“But sir-“
“It doesn’t matter,” Liam sighed as he watched the plane climb into the air. He still had one play left, “Get me Isabella Achilles on the phone. Now!”
A/N: I honestly believe there will only be one more chapter after this one.
My other stuff: Master List.
Drake stood in his kitchen staring at Riley in disbelief, “What do you mean that’s not how you remember it?”
“I mean we spent three weeks telling each other everything! I thought we knew each other, Drake!”
He had invited her to meet him in Olivia’s wine cellar and they had stayed up until dawn talking. The next night they had both shown up again. They never discussed or planned it, but it became their routine to sneak down to the wine cellars after all the official events were over. On days with no official court events, they hung out together, exploring the nearby town, hiking through the woods, or just watching movies in her room.
Then he kissed her and it had all gone to hell.
Riley felt hurt and anger pull through her at the memory, “I thought we had started something then you unceremoniously dumped me!”
“Dumped you?” his mouth fell open with incredulity, “We weren’t dating, and you were there for Liam! You said you needed space, remember?”
“Oh, my God, Drake!” She exploded, “Being a little confused because I kind of liked two cute guys, both of whom I had just met isn’t exactly unreasonable! All I said was that we should slow down! Next thing I know, you’re barely speaking to me, or being a complete dick when you do! How is that not dumping me? Even if only as a friend? Fucking asshole!”
“Right. Slow down, as in giving you space, which is what I did!”
“You didn’t slow things down Drake, you slammed us into a brick wall!”
“I know about the hot tub, okay?”
“What?”
“The hot tub, with Liam, in Lythikos.”
“He told you about that?”
“Yeah,” Drake huffed, “Couldn’t shut up about it.”
Riley felt several emotions slide through her in rapid succession. Shock followed by guilt chased quickly by anger, “So I fucked Liam in a hot tub, so what?”
“So what? So what? So that sure didn’t make it seem like you were interested in me!”
“It was our third day there! You and I had just started talking and it took you three weeks to fucking kiss me! That sure didn’t make it seem like you were interested in me!”
“I was trying not to overstep any boundaries!”
“Yeah, well, when you did finally kiss me, you went from zero to let’s get married! Talk about blowing past boundaries!”
“I did not!”
“You started talking about what our children would look like, Drake! That’s why I said we needed to slow down! I like to actually date people before I start planning a wedding! Jesus Fucking Christ!”
“Wait. You wanted to date me?”
“Yeah…maybe…I mean, yes, okay, I did!”
“Did? Past tense?”
“Well…I mean once we got back to the palace, you started treating me like total shit half the time so… you know…I mean, what was I supposed to think?”
“Once we got back to the palace, you started fawning all over Liam!”
“Well, I was apparently completely single and he was interested so why the fuck wouldn’t I?”
“I…..” Drake fought against the sudden onslaught of emotions flooding through him and mingling together. He tried to sort through and make sense of them.
She hadn’t pushed him to the side for Liam.
She thought he had pushed her to the side.
Anything she’d done with Liam since then was his own fault. All the months of torture watching her with other men had been self-inflicted.
He was a colossal idiot.
“Riley, can we start over?” He forgave her for the other men. The past was in the past, all that mattered was the future.
“I don’t know, Drake. Can we?”
“I thought you wanted to slow things down because you wanted to be with Liam. I was snappy with you because I was trying to keep my feelings for you locked down.”
“Is that an apology?”
“Yes!”
“Didn’t sound like one.”
“Are you fucking serious-“
“Fine, never mind!” She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she spun and headed for the stairs.
“Wait!” He caught up with her halfway through the living room. He grabbed her by her shoulder and spun her around to face him, “Okay! Okay! Could you just….give me a minute?”
“For what? Either you’re sorry for alternating between ignoring me and being a dick to me or you’re not. What’s hard about that?”
“Everything!” He blew out a frustrated exhale as he jerked his hand through his hair, “you may have noticed that I’m not fucking good at this!”
“At what?”
“Expressing my feelings! I’ve never done….this before, okay?”
“What? Had a relationship with a woman?”
“Not…really. Sex, yes. Fucking cared about one? Not the way I care about you! I’ve never felt like this before!”
“Like what?” She needed to know exactly what he meant. She was tired of the mixed signals.
“Like I’m going crazy! Like I can’t fucking breathe when I’m around you and I’m barely even alive when I’m not! I know I can be intense, but I can’t help it! I’ve never done anything by half-measures! I’m sorry I scared you by trying to move too fast. I didn’t mean…I was just saying that….I mean, our children would be gorgeous, how is that not just an objective fact?” He trailed off completely unsure where to go or what to say.
“So, you do like me?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“I don’t want to start over.”
“What? Why not? I said I was sorry! I can-“
She stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his cheek, “Because I don’t want to erase Lythikos. I don’t want to erase any of it, even the bad parts. I just want to move forward without any misunderstandings between us. Can we do that?”
He placed his hand over hers as the feelings in his chest swelled to the point he was afraid it really might explode, “We can do that.”
“Okay,” She pulled away from him, “First thing I’m going to need from you is a phone, Drake. I need to know what’s going on.”
With a sigh, he drew his phone out of his pocket and motioned to the couch. She sat down as he opened the web browser. He tapped into the search bar and then handed it to her, “Here.”
She scrolled through a list of headlines like “American Suitor Unfaithful”, “Cordonia Deserves Better”, and “Waitress Offers Up Hot Dish”.
She shook her head as she skimmed through several articles with growing anger and disbelief, “Tariq is claiming we had a whole ass affair!”
“Yeah,” fury coiled in his chest, “if I get my hands on him again, his next affair is going to be his funeral!”
“Oh shit! Have you seen this?” She read out loud, “Inside sources report the duke engaged in a fist fight with an as yet unidentified second man and rival lover…what the fuck?”
“Shit, I hadn’t seen that one! I’m sorry, I made it worse!”
“Don’t be sorry!” she exclaimed, “Now I wish you had put him in a fucking body cast!”
His jaw set with deadly seriousness, “That can be arranged.”
Her eyes met his and despite the gravity of the situation, laughter bubbled out of her. “Oh, shit! I know you’re joking but damned if I don’t want to take you up on that!”
“I wasn’t joking.” He replied with a half-amused, half-disbelieving smile.
“I mean, yeah, I know you obviously have no problem beating the hell of people, but I wouldn’t expect you to actually put someone in a body cast for me!”
“But I would!” He was suddenly on his knees in front of her, “I would do anything for you!”
“Drake…I…”
He laid his head in her lap, his fingers pressing into her outer thighs. “I can give you things, Riley! I can’t provide a royalty-level lifestyle, but I can give you a comfortable one. I can make sure you never want for anything! I have money, not Beaumont money, but enough to give you the kind of life you deserve!”
Her fingers twisted in his hair, “That’s….really sweet…but…”
His head snapped up. His eyes searched her face frantically, “But?”
“But you’re doing it again, Drake! We had sex once, and that sounds like a proposal or something!”
He sat back on his heels, his hands still resting on her legs, “Why do you keep pushing me away? Are you trying to break me?”
“I just think we need to have sex more than once before we start talking about-“
“How many times have you had sex with Liam?”
“That’s none of your business!” She shoved his hands away, “Besides, I thought he kept you apprised of these things!”
“I’m just trying to ascertain what the magic number is, Riley!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Were you going to say yes to Liam?”
“What?”
“Don’t what me, answer the question! If Liam had chosen you at the coronation ball, would you have said yes?”
“I mean…”
“Goddamn it!” He leapt to his feet, “I knew it!”
“Oh, calm down. I didn’t know how you felt! A girl has to consider all her options.”
“Is that all I am to you, Riley? A fucking option?”
She jumped to her feet to yell at him, “Up until five minutes ago I thought you hated me!”
“Well, I don’t!”
“Well, good!”
“Okay, good!”
“Good!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
They stood glaring at each other for a moment before Drake asked, “Why are we fighting?”
“I don’t know!” She stomped her foot then considered the question seriously, “Habit, I guess.”
“So, when can we have sex again?”
“What?”
“I mean, if there’s a specific number of times we have to have sex before we can discuss the future, then I would like to know what that number is and I would additionally like to get started making progress on that goal!”
“Weren’t you the one that just said it couldn’t happen again?”
“That’s before I knew I was an option, Riley! Now that I know there’s a real chance-“
“You’re insufferable and irrational, you know that?”
“And you’re completely maddening! First, you think we’re in a relationship, but you don’t tell me that! Then you put the brakes on it because I expressed wanting to pursue a relationship with you! Then you tell me that you do want to have a relationship with me but then you get mad because I try to talk about having a relationship with you!”
“A relationship doesn’t mean jumping straight to marriage, Drake! Have you ever tried dating someone? You’re supposed to work your way up to that!”
“And what would you consider dating?”
“Dating! You know, going to a movie together, going out to dinner, maybe a party, dancing or-“
“We’ve done all those things!”
“Not as a couple! We’ve hung out as friends!”
“What’s the difference?” He demanded.
“The intention is different!”
“No, I don’t think so. My intentions were always the same. I don’t hang out with people I don’t like. I clearly liked you!”
Riley heaved a deep sigh, “Goddamn Drake! I want to date! I want romance! I want-“
“Okay, go change into something nice.”
“Why?”
“So I can take you to a fucking movie and dinner!”
“Right now?”
“I thought that’s what you wanted!”
“We’ll get to all of that later,” she said dismissively as she retook her seat on the couch, “but I have a few questions first.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that you seemed prepared for my visit! There was women’s shampoo in the bathroom.” She said accusingly.
He seemed genuinely puzzled as he told her, “I didn’t think you’d want to use mine.”
“Drake, how long did you know about the setup, and why didn’t you tell me?”
Oh, that.
His head tipped back to stare up at the ceiling. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and refocus his attention. “I didn’t know about the setup until it dropped, actually.”
“But then how-“
“I knew you were under surveillance, but I didn’t know why.”
“Okay, okay, I don’t understand…”
“The guard having orders to be on standby to arrest you, the limo ordered to wait out front, the plane ticket…I found all of that out just hours before the coronation.”
“So why does it seem like you were prepared for me to be here?”
“I did all that last week after the Tariq thing happened and Liam told me to stay away from you.”
“He did what?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No…”
“Well, he did, he told me to stay completely away from you! But even though he basically ordered me to stand down, I started asking around about the Tariq investigation and some things didn’t add up. I knew something was up, but not what. The cabin is always my backup plan, my fallback location. So, I thought maybe it could be yours too if it came to that. I didn’t know for sure you’d ever be here, I just wanted to be prepared in case you needed a place to lay low for a while.”
“Okay…that…that actually makes sense…but I have a million more questions! What things didn’t add up? Why did Liam tell you to stay away from me and why did you listen to him?”
She hadn’t seen Drake again after the incident with Tariq. Not until he slid into the back of that SUV on coronation night.
“Liam told me to stay away from you because he correctly identified my interest in you,” Drake told her, “As far as things that didn’t add up,” he started ticking items off his fingers, “Your lock was disabled, Tariq is maintaining that you invited him to your room and that my attack on him was unprovoked or motivated by jealousy-“
“What’s suspicious about a man lying about consent? Happens all the time, unfortunately.”
“Yeah…that’s not okay. But, back to Tariq, Liam said something that night….that I’ve known Tariq all my life. He was right, I have known the man most of my life and he’s not a rapist. What he is though, is a crown loyalist and a traditionalist.”
“Which means?”
“Which means he would not approve of nor support the king marrying a commoner or a foreigner.”
“Oh! Wow…”
“I told you people here are brutal with this shit. Now that we know someone was waiting to take those photos, it’s safe to assume he’s working in concert with someone to make sure a commoner never sits on the throne. And it has to be someone high up because digging around in the investigation is how I found out you were under surveillance. Only so many people can order surveillance like that.”
Riley slumped back on the couch, “This is a lot.”
“So, to review, Tariq was sent to paw all over you, at least enough to make it look real, while someone was waiting in the tree outside your room with a camera. You’ve been under surveillance for some time. Details of the incident report were leaked, along with the photo. A plane ticket was purchased, the limo and the guards were on standby, and didn’t you tell me your things had already been packed for you?”
“Yes, damn. Someone really has it out for me.”
“This is what I’ve been telling you!”
“But Drake….why couldn’t we just go to Liam with all this?”
“Because there are factions out there that have been known to assassinate people to take them or keep them off the throne. And whoever set you up has access to the King’s Guard! They did all this right under Liam’s nose! I couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk you! Now do you see why I had to get you away and keep your whereabouts a secret?
“But how did you find all this out? How do you know classified information that even Liam didn’t know? And you still haven’t answered my question about why you stayed away from me just because Liam told you to?”
“Those questions have the same answer, Brooks.”
“Which is?”
“There’s something you don’t know about me, Riley. Something I never told you, despite all those late-night chats. I’m-“
They were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the cabin door.
“Shit! No one knows we’re here! Almost no one even knows this place exists!” He pulled her off the couch and pushed her behind him, “Go upstairs and keep quiet while I-“
“Where is she?” Liam slammed into the cabin without waiting for the door to be answered. Relief crashed across his features when he saw her, “Riley! Thank God!”
“It’s okay, Drake, it’s just Liam!” Riley moved around him to greet Liam with a hug.
Liam pulled her tightly against him, his eyes were filled with cold fury as they met Drake’s over her shoulder though his voice didn’t betray it as he told her, “I’ve been worried sick about you!”
“How’d you figure it out?” Drake asked.
Liam released her to glower at his best friend, “It really wasn’t hard to figure out who had already proven the lengths they would go to for her and who had both the authority to issue orders to the guard dogs and access to internal intelligence. I mean, how did this person know what the King’s Guard was planning? Then I realized, there’s only one person that could hijack the guard dogs and also has access to MiSHI.”
“What’s meeshe?” Riley asked.
“MiSHI stands for mission support and human intelligence,” Liam answered, “the Guard’s internal intelligence unit. It’s their job to know everything about everything going on in every unit.”
“I don’t understand…”
“MiSHI and the guard dogs are both special units within the Guard. Only someone who had access to both could have pulled this off. And the only person with access to both is the commander in charge of all the special units.”
“Which is who?” Riley was still trying to figure out how Drake had managed to pull off the rescue/kidnapping. What favors he called in and from whom.
Liam turned to Drake in astonishment, “She doesn’t know?”
“Know what?” Riley’s head swiveled between them.
“You haven’t told her?”
Drake shrugged, “She didn’t have clearance.”
“Clearance for what?” she demanded.
“I was about to tell you,” Drake responded, “When someone barged in without an invitation!”
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Liam spun on him, “You could lose your commission for this! It was a flagrant abuse of power!”
A lightbulb went off in her head, “Wait…you’re the head of special units?”
“Sorry to disappoint you that I’m not the broke, unemployed loser you pegged me for.”
“Drake, I never meant-“
“Well, I might be unemployed now,” he said with a bitter laugh, “that’s what I meant when I said I’ve already risked everything for you. It’s also the reason I had to back off when Liam told me to. I couldn’t risk him firing me and cutting off my access before I figured out what was going on.”
“Which I certainly would have done if I’d known how far off the rails you’d gone!” Liam spat at him.
“Okay, we’re going to discuss you keeping information from me later,” Riley told Drake before turning back to Liam, “But why are you mad? I thought you’d be happy to find out I’m still here. Drake’s intervention is the only reason I’m not back in New York right now!”
“You thought I’d be happy about this?” Liam gaped at her, “I wanted you on that plane!”
She stumbled back like she’d been struck, “What? Why? I don’t understand-“
“I determined that it was safer for you in New York and-“
“And you had no right to make that determination for me!”
“I have feelings for you, Riley, strong ones, but you’ve always known that my feelings aren’t the only factor in deciding whom I marry.”
“Not marrying me and having me drug out of the coronation and forced out of the country are two very different things, Liam!”
“I fully intended to come and find you after things calmed down. Explain the situation and-“
“And what? You thought you could humiliate and throw me away and I’d be what? Just waiting for you to show up so I could fall into your arms?”
“I wasn’t throwing you away, Riley!” He shot daggers at Drake, “Can we talk in private, please?”
Drake crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m not leaving unless Riley tells me to.”
Without shifting her gaze away from Liam, Riley said, “Drake stays.”
Liam heaved a very loud, very audible sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Drake smirked at him, “This is my house.”
“And Riley’s my girlfriend!”
“I’m not your girlfriend, Liam! Did you forget the part where you got engaged to another woman?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You can still be my girlfriend, Riley! I may have to marry Madeleine but-“
“Wait! You want me to be your side chick?”
“I’m not familiar with that term. I want to offer you an arrangement, a way to keep you in my life. You’ll stay at the palace, or if you prefer, I can purchase a house for you in town-“
“You arrogant fucking prick!” The sound of her open palm striking his cheek rang out.
His head jerked to the side, then turned back to face her as his hand covered the spot, “I understand you’re upset, but if that’s out of your system now, let’s go, I have a car waiting outside. Where are your things?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Your Majesty!” She made the last two words sound like an insult.
“You can’t be serious, Riley! Be reasonable!”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious!”
“You want this?” he gestured to the cabin in general and Drake specifically, “He’s out of control, Riley!”
“You’re right,” she agreed, “he’s been acting crazy for weeks now…” she trailed off, tapping her lips as she considered something, “He’s volatile, possessive and his intensity is a little frightening…”
A victorious smile lit up Liam’s face as he gloated at Drake.
Drake’s head dropped with a defeated exhale.
It had all been for nothing.
“But maybe that’s exactly what I want…”
“What?” Both men exclaimed as two heads snapped toward her and two sets of eyes scanned her face for context.
“Maybe I don’t want a man that carefully follows the rules and wants to keep me as his dirty little secret,” she mused, “maybe I want a man that sets the world on fire to get to me and to keep me safe…” her eyes found Drake’s as she finished, “one who says fuck protocol and decorum and just throws me over a counter and fucks me senseless.”
“Wha-“ Liam’s eyes went from her to Drake to the kitchen counter back to her, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
She never took her eyes off Drake, “No, I’m not. I have never been more serious about anything in my life.”
“You can’t do this, Riley! You’re making a monumental mistake!” Liam ground out through clenched teeth.
“What’s the big deal, Liam? We had some good times but we both knew it probably wouldn’t last. You chose someone else, and now I’ve chosen someone else. We can still be friends.”
“Friends, Riley? Friends? I don’t fucking think so!” He bumped Drake with his shoulder on the way out, “This isn’t over!”
Riley stared after him in shock, “Wow, I’ve never seen Liam act like that!”
“Shit, Riley,” Drake breathed, “You have no idea what you’ve just done…”
A/N: I'm through trying to predict how long this is going to be. I think just one more chapter, two at most. But your guess is as good as mine at this point!🤷♀️
My other stuff: Master List.
She woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through the cabin. Her stomach growled and she realized she was ravenous. Dinner had been hours before the coronation fiasco, and she hadn’t eaten since.
She needed her luggage to get dressed. Drake had been going to get them the last time she’d seen him. She opened the bedroom door and found her suitcases stacked neatly in the hall.
She got dressed quickly and made her way downstairs. The living room opened into a long, narrow kitchen. Drake stood at the stove, shirtless, stirring eggs in a skillet. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, drinking in the sight. She hadn’t seen him shirtless since the beach party and the image of Drake in a speedo was burned into her memory.
He turned slightly, reaching for a cup of coffee on the counter next to him, and caught sight of her out of his peripheral vision. His eyes had already started to track back to the pan so he did a double take as his head jerked back toward her, “Hey! Good morning! Want some breakfast?”
“Uh…sure,” spurred into motion, she left the foot of the staircase and traversed the living room.
His brows pulled together in confusion, “What were you doing just standing at the bottom of the stairs?”
Her cheeks pinkened as she made it to the kitchen, “Nothing, just…nothing!”
“Okay…”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You could get the plates out,” he reached over and flipped open one of the cabinet doors.
“It smells delicious!” She chirped as she slid two plates out of the cupboard, discreetly cutting her eyes to the side to admire his shirtless form up close. Her eyes ran over his bare chest, shoulders, arms, and back, paying rapt attention to the way the muscles flexed and coiled as he moved.
“It’s just bacon, eggs, and toast, the basics,” he told her, “And I have coffee if you want it. I also have orange juice if you’d rather.”
“Coffee is fine,” she sat the plates down on the counter next to the stove, “Where’s the silverware?”
He pointed and she opened a drawer, pulling out two forks and two butter knives before letting her eyes wander back to him. This time they continued past the bare skin, taking in the curve of the denim that hugged his ass. Her eyes lingered there for a moment then made their way slowly upward again.
She flushed a deep crimson when her eyes met his amused gaze, “Are you checking me out, Brooks?”
“N-No!”
“Then what were you doing? Because I’m pretty sure you were just looking at my ass.”
“I….you know what? Fuck you! You check me out all the damn time! You think I haven’t noticed?”
The grin on his face broadened into a full-fledged smile, “You’re paying attention to what I do?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
He pushed the skillet to a cool burner and turned off the stovetop then he stepped into her personal space, leaned down, and whispered in her ear, “If you want me, all you have to do is say so.”
She felt a little lightheaded as heat flooded her body, threatening to wipe out all of her common sense. Her mouth went dry as she croaked out, “I don’t….” Even to her ears, it sounded like a lie.
“Okay,” he moved away with a shrug, “but the offer stands.”
He handed her a plate and she mentally shook herself as she took it, “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” he loaded food onto this plate and moved to the back of the kitchen where a small table sat in an alcove surrounded on three sides by windows, “How did you sleep last night?”
“Like a baby!” she said as she scooped scrambled eggs onto her plate.
“I can light a fire in there tonight if you want it.” He offered as he returned to the counter to fill two cups of coffee.
“That would be nice,” she buttered a piece of toast and added it to the bacon and eggs already on her plate.
“It’s nice outside today, I could take you fishing,” he told her as he placed the cups on the table and took his seat.
“I prefer to eat the fish,” she said as she joined him at the table, “I’ll leave the catching them up to you.”
“All right, I get it… city girl.”
“More like small-town girl,” she corrected him, “I didn’t grow up in New York.”
“I remember. California, right?”
“Right. How was the couch?”
“It was a couch.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I still feel bad about putting you out of your own room.”
He looked at her across the table as he tore his toast in half, “Did you really think it was necessary to lock the bedroom door last night?”
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. Setting it back onto the plate she lifted her eyebrows, “Considering you know that I locked it, yes.”
Considering that he had just offered to have sex with her and she’d almost taken him up on it, double yes.
“I just wanted to grab some clean clothes; it is my room you know.”
Her eyes flicked down to take in the fact that he was still wearing yesterday’s pants, but that was a mistake as all it did was remind her that he was still wearing only half his clothes. “Ah….sorry. I just fell asleep after my bath.”
“It’s okay, I’ll grab a shower after breakfast. Did you find everything okay? Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I found everything I needed, even a brand-new toothbrush.”
“Good.” He took a long drink of his coffee, watching her over the edge of the cup as he did so.
The predatory way his eyes tracked her every movement left her unsettled. She liked it and she hated the fact that she liked it.
It was time to do what she always did when her unmet need for him threatened to overwhelm her.
Pick a fight.
“So how long am I going to be stuck here?”
He raised his eyebrows, “I thought you liked it here.”
“That’s not the point!”
He picked up on the shift in her demeanor, “Why are you mad?”
“Because you brought me here against my will and threw my phone out the window!”
He pushed his plate away, “I told you why I had to throw your phone away and you got in my car of your own volition!”
“Did I though? It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere! Where else was I going to go? And might I remind you that I never consented to get in the back of that SUV!” She may have manufactured the fight to distract herself from the feelings he inspired in her, but as she reviewed the previous evening’s proceedings, she found herself getting actually angry.
He drained the last of his coffee before responding, “It was the SUV or the limo to the airport.”
“Exactly! I didn’t consent to any of it!”
“Welcome to Cordonia, an absolute monarchy. You have no rights here.”
“That…that’s fucked up!”
“That’s Liam’s world, the one you want so badly to be a part of.” He reminded her.
“You have no idea what I want, Drake!”
“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me then?”
“Maybe I would if I weren’t being held prisoner!”
“You’re not a prisoner!”
“No?”
“No!”
“So, I can just get up and leave if I want to?”
“Yes! I’m not stopping you from leaving!” he threw his hands up in the air, “Go!”
“Fine! I will!” She pushed away from the table, stomped through the house, jerked the door open, and stepped out onto the porch. Glancing up and down the property, she saw nothing but wilderness.
There was a lake in front of her and woods to the right and back of the clearing. To her left, a dirt road stretched and curved through the tree line, disappearing from view over a rise in the road, with no other houses or buildings in sight.
She backed into the cabin to find him standing in the living room watching her, “I need the car keys.”
“I’m not giving you my car,” he laughed.
“Then how am I supposed to leave?”
“That’s your problem,” he shrugged, “I said I wasn’t holding you here against your will, I didn’t say I would help you leave.”
“But I don’t even know where I am or how far the nearest town is!”
“That sounds a like a you problem, Brooks,” he replied evenly.
“How am I not a prisoner if I’m not allowed to leave?” She yelled at him.
“You’re allowed to leave!” He shouted back at her, “I’m not stopping you!”
“But you’re not helping me?”
“Fuck no I’m not!”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I think it’s a mistake!” he exploded, “Your best bet is to stay here until we know exactly who set you up and why! Why won’t you just let me help you?”
“I don’t need your help, Drake! Liam has the entirety of the Cordonian government at his disposal! He can get to the bottom of everything, I know he can!”
“Yeah? Maybe, but where is he?”
“How would I know? You took my phone!” she slammed back out the door.
“Good luck in the woods!” he yelled after her.
“Don’t need it!” She yelled back, “I was a girl scout!”
All she needed was to get back to civilization.
She decided that following the driveway out to the main road made the most sense. The problem was that the driveway was more of a path than a road and not a very good path at that. She tried to follow the ruts and patches of beaten-down grass, but they weren’t always easy to find. She somehow managed to end up in the middle of the woods. She was quite sure she had strayed from the path.
She blundered around in the woods refusing to admit she was lost until she passed a fallen tree she was certain she had passed at least twice already. “Well, shit!” she kicked at the rotted trunk like it was the dead tree’s fault.
There was a rattling behind her, the sound of twigs snapping sounded close by and she jumped, then dropped into a karate stance she remembered from her junior high self-defense class, ready to fight whatever wild animal threatened her.
Drake appeared beside her, “Always ready with the violence, Brooks. And you judge me for it.”
“Drake!” Her body sagged with relief but she didn’t want to admit it. She tried to sound annoyed as she asked, “How did you find me?”
“Well, first of all,” he shook his head, “You’re not hard to find, you leave a trail like a fucking tornado came through the woods and second, I’ve been following you the whole time.”
“What?” she was genuinely shocked. She hadn’t known he was there.
“It wasn’t hard. You’re about as quiet as a herd of thundering elephants.”
“Oh.” She stood awkwardly looking at him, unsure what to say.
“Can we go back to the cabin now? It’s almost lunchtime and I still haven’t had a shower.”
“Sure.” She followed along behind him, her mind spinning furiously looking for a way to salvage her injured pride.
He glanced behind him, “You know I’m just trying to help you, right?”
“Well, I don’t like feeling like a prisoner!”
“You’re not a prisoner, Riley, you’re a guest! What do you want? An engraved invitation?”
“It would have been nice to have been asked if I wanted to come here!”
“Oh, sweet Jesus give me strength,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, Lady Riley Brooks, would you do me the great honor of accompanying me back to my humble abode and temporarily residing there with me until such a time we are able to ascertain who is behind the plot against you and ensure it is safe for you to return to the palace, should you choose to do so?”
“You’re a real asshole, you know that, right?”
“I just gave you exactly what you said you wanted, how am I an asshole?”
“It’s the way you said it!”
“Oh, my God! You’re impossible!”
“I’m impossible? I’m not the one running around kidnaping people!”
“For the last time,” he threw his hands up in the air, “I did not kidnap you! I rescued you!”
“From what?”
“From being deported! Or did you want to go back to New York?”
“I don’t know…maybe!”
“Maybe? Wait…really?” He stopped walking and turned to face her, “You wanted to leave?”
“I don’t know, Drake! I never got a chance to think about it! I was drug out of the coronation by one set of soldiers who were going to put me on a plane whether I liked it or not then I was taken by another set of soldiers who made sure I came here, again, whether I liked it or not! At no point did anyone consult me about anything!”
“I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“No, Drake! You just- oh! What? I am?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, “I didn’t consult you. There were reasons for that, but I can see how it felt heavy-handed and authoritarian from your perspective.”
“I…yes. Well…thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he turned back and continued walking.
She stumbled over an exposed root but caught herself.
“You okay?” he asked in concern.
“I’m fine, just tired and a little clumsy.”
“You’re tired? Here, let me help you,” he reached for her.
She shoved his hands away, “No, I’m fine, I can make it.”
“Don’t be a stubborn ass, just let me help you!”
“I don’t want your help, Drake! I wanted to get away from you, remember?”
“I remember,” He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way back to the cabin.
“Goddamn it, Drake!” Her fists pounded on his back to no avail. She was acutely aware of his arms wrapped around her body.
He sat her down on the porch, “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?”
“Maybe because you continue to disregard my choice in all matters pertaining to my fucking life!”
“Disregard your- I just wanted to make it back home before next week!”
“I hate you!” she slammed into the cabin.
He followed behind her, “You don’t mean that.”
“I do, I really fucking do!”
“In Lythikos, I got the distinct impression that you liked me. A lot.”
“Well, your impression was wrong!”
“Was it?”
“If you want me to like you, Drake, get me a fucking phone!”
“I’m not trying to keep you from the outside world! I just couldn’t have your phone tracked! Here!” he pulled his phone from his pocket and thrust it at her, “Call your mom, call your sister, call Hana if you want to! Let your friends and family know you’re okay.”
“What if I want to call Max?”
A frustrated sigh escaped him, “I mean…I guess but you can’t tell him-“
“What if I want to call Liam?”
He snatched the phone out of her hand with an aggravated growl, “No!”
“What’s your problem with Liam? I thought he was your best friend!”
“He was! He is! I…it’s complicated!”
“Seems pretty simple to me. You want to get to the bottom of who set me up? Who better to do that than Liam?”
“You know he’s engaged to someone else now, right?”
“So? He’s also king now! He could help us! Liam could-“
“Liam, Liam, Liam!” Drake sent everything from the mantle crashing to the floor. He kicked out and sent the drink cart careening into a wall then he grabbed a lamp from an end table and threw it with all his might, shattering it against the stone of the fireplace. ”When are you going to notice me, Riley?”
She stared at him with wide eyes, “What?”
“You heard me!” He stalked closer to her and took her by the arm, yanking her to him, “After everything that’s happened, how do you still not see me?”
“Drake, I see you just fine,” she said softly, struggling to convince herself that his outburst was not turning her on.
It shouldn’t be, right?
“Do you? Because all I ever hear you talk about is fucking Liam! Liam isn’t here right now, is he, Riley? I am!” his hand thumped his chest, “I’m the one who figured out you were being set up! I’m the one that kept you from being put on a plane back to America that night and I’m the one standing in front of you offering you everything that I have! Why won’t you take it?”
“Drake,” she croaked out, “I didn’t know-“
He pulled her closer, so close she could feel his body heat as he stared down into her eyes, anger, pain, and desire burning in his, “That’s a lie! You know exactly what you do to me!”
This was it, the moment she’d been fighting against for months. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him, then the pressure cooker of emotions she’d been holding in was going to explode. “I-“
His lips crashed into hers, cutting off her reply.
“I thought you said we couldn't....” She breathed when the kiss broke.
“I don’t care anymore,” he murmured as he slid the straps of her spaghetti top blouse down so his fingers could stroke softly across her shoulders, “I’m willing to sacrifice everything for you!”
The intensity of his words burned across her skin, “Drake…”
“You have no idea what I’ve already risked for you…” he continued, his breath hot against her skin as his lips ghosted down the side of her neck.
“I don’t…know…what that means…” she gasped out as her head fell back and her fingers twisted in his hair.
“I did what I had to do to protect you,” he gathered the fabric of her silky top in his hands and yanked it upward, pulling it from her body and tossing it to the side, “I want to protect you, Riley,” his lips found the hollow of her neck, “I want to do other things too.”
His tongue glided across her skin; his lips laid demanding kisses along her breastbone as his hands found and cupped her breasts. His head dipped down to join his hands, sucking and pulling at her puckered nipples.
Her back arched, as one hand ran across the smooth expanse of his back, the other tightening in his hair.
His mouth continued its downward trek, stopping at the waistband of her denim shorts. He stood back upright and captured her gaze with his own, “Can we get you out of those?”
She licked her lips and nodded, not trusting her voice to work correctly. Her body was aflame, she was breathing hard, and her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest.
She was on fire.
His gaze stayed locked on hers as he tugged her zipper down then slipped his hand inside her shorts. His fingers stroked her gently through the soft cotton fabric of her panties and she almost came undone right then.
Pushing the fabric to the side, he plunged a finger into her and she pitched forward with a gasp, clutching both of his shoulders for support. He withdrew the finger and brought it to his mouth. Eyes still locked on hers, he stuck it in his mouth and slowly withdrew it. “Fucking delicious!”
She made a mewling sound as she fought to keep her knees from buckling. He shoved her shorts down and she stepped out of them.
“You feel it too, don’t you? I’m not just making it all up in my head, am I? Or am I crazy? Irrationally obsessed with you like Liam and Bas think?” He yanked her off her feet and lifted her into his arms.
Her arms and legs wrapped around him as he walked from the living room into the attached kitchen. He lowered her onto the counter and sank to his knees. Shoving her thighs apart, he brought his face close to her core and paused to inhale deeply, “I never thought this moment would be anything but a fantasy,” he told her before drawing a straight line up her center with his tongue.
“Ungh!” she nearly twisted off the counter.
“Hold still, baby,” his hands pressed her thighs, holding her body in place as he resumed his ministrations.
Riley’s hands scrambled for purchase on the cabinets behind her, on the countertop under her, and on his back and shoulders as her body writhed and undulated in response to the magical touch of his tongue.
She felt herself creep closer and closer to the edge of the abyss as his tongue moved faster and pushed harder against her throbbing clit. Darkness coalesced around the edges of her vision as her entire body arched off the kitchen counter. Exquisite ecstasy burst over her in waves so intense she felt no pain when she slammed her head back into the cabinet.
“Fuck! Drake!” Her body went limp and she started to slide forward off the counter.
“If you don’t want this, you’d better tell me to stop right now,” he pulled her off the counter and spun her around. He pressed her body forward, her cheek laid against the cool marble of the countertop as he forced her legs apart and pushed himself inside her.
Her body tensed up for a fraction of a second as he entered her then relaxed as she felt another wave of pleasure building inside her.
One hand held her at the hip while the other tangled in her hair. He pounded into her at an impossible pace. Her fingers grappled fruitlessly with the smooth countertop, unable to make purchase.
His girth filled her perfectly and every stroke brushed against her sweet spot. Unintentional gasps and moans spilled out of her as she struggled to stay on her feet.
She had never been fucked with such divine brutality before.
A tidal wave of euphoria broke over her. Her knees buckled, tears clouded her eyes, and her soul left her body for a moment.
Her incoherent screams in his ears coupled with the squirt of hot liquid as she tightened around him finished him. He slammed into her as he exploded.
His body dropped forward onto hers, pinning her to the counter, the only thing keeping her from sliding right off it and onto the floor.
His lips trailed down the back of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered so softly she wasn’t sure she heard it.
They lay draped across the counter for several long moments, panting, regaining their breath, luxuriating in the afterglow.
Then he pulled away, anguish coloring his voice, “I’m sorry, Riley. We shouldn’t have done this; I shouldn’t have done this!”
She turned around, leaning her back into the counter because her legs still felt like jelly, “What are you talking about? Why not?”
“Because we can’t take it back and you don’t know what you want.”
“So, after delivering the most amazing sexual experience of my life, you’re telling me that it can never happen again?”
“I’m telling you that-“ he froze in the middle of zipping his pants up. His eyes lifted to meet hers, “It was the most amazing sexual experience of your life?”
“I mean it was pretty damn good, is all I’m saying…”
“Yeah, for me too, that’s the problem.” He tracked back to the living room to retrieve her clothes.
“How is that a problem?” She asked as he handed her clothes to her.
He looked the other way while she got dressed, not trusting himself not to take her again right there on the counter. “Because I know exactly what I want, Riley! And this just reinforces that, but you don’t know what the hell you want, and if you haven’t noticed, watching you trying to figure out if Liam is what you want has just about destroyed my sanity and my reputation!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Liam ordered me to stay away from you and Bas thinks I’ve lost my mind!”
“Why?”
“They think I’m acting irrationally over a woman I barely know.”
“You know me better than anyone else here!”
“Thought I did.”
“You do!” She insisted, “All those nights we spent in Olivia’s wine cellar…I told you things I’ve never told another person!”
“I know. Those were the best three weeks of my life.”
“So…Lythikos meant something to you?”
“It meant everything to me, Riley!”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“You asked me to give you space, and that’s what I did!”
A/N: So it's not a three-shot, lol. I know, you're all shocked! Mini Series then. Four maybe five chapters. We'll just see how it goes.
My other stuff: Master List.
The SUV tires crunched on the gravel as it pulled into a small parking lot in front of a darkened restaurant. A metal sign that read “Mama Rita’s” swung from a chain above the front door.
The SUV pulled around back and stopped next to a deep maroon Devore GT with a black racing stripe down the center.
“What are we doing here?” Riley asked nervously, “Where are we?”
“We’re just switching cars,” Drake explained as he opened the door and hopped out. He pointed a key fob at the Devore and the trunk popped open.
The driver exited the vehicle and started pulling her luggage out of the back and transferring it to the trunk of the other car. She recognized him, “Marco, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned at her as he pushed the trunk closed, “and for what it’s worth, I was there that night the shit went down with that duke…I know you weren’t having an affair with him or whatever that reporter is claiming.”
“Thanks, Marco.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck with everything,” he waved at her as he headed back to the SUV.
“Wait…you’re leaving?”
“Yes, I have to get back to my duty station before my next shift.” He told her as he climbed back into the driver’s seat and closed the door.
“Aren’t you on duty right now?”
“Technically no,” he responded, “Just doing a favor for a friend.”
“Thanks for that, by the way,” Drake called as he pulled the passenger door of the Devore open.
“Anytime, Walker,” Marco gave him a wave as he backed out of the parking spot.
Riley watched the taillights as they disappeared around the building, leaving her alone with Drake. A prospect that both frightened and excited her.
“Come on Brooks, let’s go.”
She turned slowly toward him ignoring the frisson of desire that sparked through her at the sight of him, “No.”
“No? What do you mean no?”
“I mean no, Drake! I’m not getting in the car with you!” She turned and started walking across the parking lot.
“Riley! Get in the car!” He roared.
“No!” She said over her shoulder.
“Riley!...Shit! Fuck!” He kicked the car and then ran after her, trying for his most pleading tone, “Riley….Riley, please, please, please get in the car!”
She stopped and turned to face him, “I said no, Drake!”
“Why the fuck not?”
“I’m not sure I should get in a car with you without knowing where we’re going and why!”
Shock spilled across his features, “I’m trying to help you!”
“Help me, Drake? Help me? Did I ask for your help? I don’t even know what the hell is going on! I was drug out of the coronation by one set of guards, intercepted by another set and now I’m just supposed to get into this car with you and go God knows where with you? And literally, no one knows where I am?” She was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Okay, okay…” he held both hands up in front of him in the universal sign for surrender, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t realize…” he trailed off as confusion then surprise darted across his face, “Riley…are you afraid of me?”
“I...I’m not sure…maybe…”
“Why? I mean, I know we’ve had some dustups, but what have I ever done to make you think I’d hurt you in any way?”
His facial expression was so bewildered and so hurt that her heart rate dropped back to normal as she replied, “Nothing to me, specifically…”
His face cleared as understanding dawned on him, “You’re talking about Nick and Tariq.”
“Well, yeah…”
“All right, let’s talk about it then, okay?” he waited for her to nod before continuing, “First of all, I need you to understand that I don’t usually just go around hitting people, I would never hit a woman and I have never punched a man that didn’t deserve it!”
“So, when you came into my room that night-“
“I heard you scream, Riley! I would have never just walked into your room otherwise! When I saw Tariq with his hands on you…” he paused as he struggled to get his emotions under control. His fists clenched at his sides and his lips pressed tightly together. His entire body was thrumming with tension as he replayed the events in his head.
“Hey,” Riley reached out tentatively and touched his arm, “It’s okay, I’m not really mad about you kicking that idiot’s ass.”
“You’re not?” He blinked at her in surprise.
“No,” she shook her head, “He kind of had it coming if you ask me.”
Drake barked out a disbelieving laugh, “But Liam made it sound like you were upset by the...how did he put it….oh yeah, all the violence you’d witnessed.”
“I mean, it was a lot, Drake. I just don’t understand why you did it.”
He looked taken aback as he said, “I did it for you, Riley! He hurt you! He was touching you without your permission!”
Her eyes widened, “That’s it?”
“That’s it? What do you mean, that’s it? Isn’t that enough? He had no right to put his hands on you!”
She smiled at his agitation, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” The truth was she had liked the feeling it gave her watching Drake swoop in and come to her defense. Like a flock of butterflies were trying to burst out of her chest.
Her smile drew one of his own, as he asked, “Why are you smiling?”
“No reason...just…if you got that worked up over the idea of someone else hurting me, I guess you’re not likely to do it yourself.”
His smile disappeared, as his hand brushed her cheek, “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”
She looked down at the ground and then back up at his face, “Okay, I believe you, but…”
“But?” He dropped his hand and stepped back.
“But Nick wasn’t hurting me, Drake.”
He raked a hand through his hair with a sigh, “No, no, he wasn’t.”
“So, what was that about?”
He tipped his head back to stare up at the moon as he collected his thoughts, “I saw him as a threat. He was a stranger, with no security clearance to enter the area he was trying to enter, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
It was at least part of the truth.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll get in the car with you, but you have to promise to tell me what the hell is going on!”
Relief rushed over him like a river crashing over the edge of a cliff face, “I promise!”
He talked as he drove, “I guess you know by now that pictures of you and Tariq somehow made it into the papers.”
“Yeah, I saw that, briefly. About two seconds after everyone got the notification I was being drug out of the ballroom!”
“Right. Didn’t that seem strange to you?”
“Yes! It was an extreme overreaction and I don’t understand-“
“No, not that part! The part where it only took the guard two seconds to react to something that was allegedly a surprise to everyone?”
“Oh…I…now that you mention it, I guess that is strange…”
“Because it wasn’t a surprise to everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there were guards on standby waiting for the signal to take you into custody. The limo to take you to the airport was waiting outside before that story dropped and the plane ticket was purchased a week ago.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Not important. What’s important is that these arrangements were made by someone with the authority to issue orders to not just the regular palace guards, but the King’s Guard! Which means that someone high up and close to Liam is responsible for it. And it also means the thing with Tariq was a setup. Who took those pictures, Riley? Someone knew he was going to be there!”
She sat back in her seat in shock, “Why would anyone want to do this to me?”
“Because you’re a threat.”
“To who?”
“To anyone that doesn’t want the monarchy to change! Liam is too enamored of you and there are those that see that as a threat.”
“But I’m not a threat to anyone!”
Drake laughed, “Tell that to all those noblewomen drowning in jealousy and resentment at having spent their entire lives training to marry a king only to have a foreign interloper, a waitress no less, swoop in at the last minute and steal him right out from under them.”
“I…never thought about it like that…so, you think it’s one of the other suitors?”
“Maybe, but probably not. Trust me, there are factions that would go to great lengths to keep the monarchy from what they see as corruption.”
“Corruption?”
“Yes, corruption from any ideas that are too modern, too liberal, too…American…”
“Shit…”
“Exactly.”
They pulled off the pavement onto a dusty backroad before turning down a long, twisting private drive. At the end of the drive was an unassuming two-story cabin nestled in a clearing next to a small lake.
“Sorry, it’s not a palace or the Beaumont estate,” he said as he unlocked the door and ushered her inside, “but you’ll be safe here.”
“I’m actually a little sick of the inside of the palace,” she admitted.
“I thought you liked the glitz and glamour, being catered to like a spoiled rich girl.”
“Do you always have to insult me?”
“Sorry, habit.”
“But why is it a habit?”
“I do it for the same reason I call you by your last name.”
“Which is?”
“None of your business. Now come on and I’ll show you to the bedroom.”
They were halfway up the stairs when she stopped, “Wait, did you say the bedroom? As in, there’s only one?”
Drake’s face flushed red as he pushed past her, “Yeah, but don’t worry. I was planning to sleep on the couch.”
“Oh! I…” she hurried up the steps after him, “I don’t want to put you out of your own bedroom! Wait…is it your bedroom? Whose cabin are we in?”
“It’s my cabin, Brooks,” he told her as he pushed open the only door on the left-hand side of the small upstairs hallway.
“What are those? They aren’t bedrooms?” She gestured to the three doors on the other side of the hall.
“Technically, yes, but they don’t have beds in them. The one at the end has a pool table in it, the one in the middle is a bathroom and the other is full of boxes of my dad’s old stuff,” he told her.
“I guess you don’t get much company, huh?” She smirked at him as she entered the master bedroom.
“I know that’s a crack about me not having any friends, but the answer is no I don’t because I actively don’t want any.”
Very few people knew it even existed.
He had never brought a woman to it before.
“Wow,” she breathed as she looked around the room. It took up most of the second floor, a fireplace graced the center of the room, and the bed was huge.
Her appreciation for it caught him off guard. “You like it?”
“Yes, I love it! It’s amazing! Why are you surprised?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “It’s not a palace and there are no servants.”
Annoyance pulled through her, “You know I lived in a two hundred square foot apartment in New York, right?”
“Yeah, well, I figure you’ve gotten used to a different lifestyle by this point.” He muttered.
“Do you really think I’m that fucking shallow?” she snapped.
“I don’t know. Are you?” And just like that, the attitude was back in his tone.
“Why did you even bother to bring me here and try to help me if you have such a low opinion of me, Drake? Huh? Why? I don’t get it. I don’t get you!”
“Me? I’m an open book! You’re the one that-“
“Open book? How the hell do you figure that? You’re the most inscrutable, closed-off, judgmental, hostile, cynical person I’ve ever met and you have a fucking outrageous temper with a hair trigger! Frankly, I don’t see how you’ve survived at court all these years!”
His jaw set, “Tell me how you really feel, Brooks, don’t hold back.”
“I’m just saying-“
“I know what you’re saying, and you’re the one judging me right now! Maybe being at court all those years made me this way! Did you ever consider that?”
“Maybe your problems at court were caused by your bad attitude! Did you ever consider that?”
“Says the woman who was fucking nice to everyone and still got set up, slandered, and drug out of the coronation by armed guards!”
“Oh, fuck you! How do I know you’re even telling me the truth about any of that?”
“Why the fuck would I lie about any of that?” He asked in astonishment.
“I don’t know, Drake, you tell me! Maybe Liam was right, maybe you are obsessed with me! Maybe this wasn’t a rescue, maybe this was a kidnapping!”
“Are you fucking serious right now? Turn on the fucking news! You’re all over it and no one is defending you!”
“Oh, and how am I supposed to do that, Drake? Huh? You took my phone!”
“You know what? I’m going down to bring in the rest of your luggage and check the propane tank. Give you time to calm the fuck down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? You want me to calm down, Drake? Get me a fucking phone!” She pulled her shoes off and flung one at him.
“You’re welcome for the save by the way!” He yelled as he stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him. The shoe thudded into the closed door and bounced onto the floor.
“Fuck!” She threw the other shoe at the door for good measure.
She needed to get a message to Liam. She needed contact with the outside world. She needed to see what the news was saying. She needed Hana.
But first, she needed a long, hot bath to wash this day off her.
She locked the bedroom door and made her way to the master bath. There was a cast iron claw-footed oval-shaped bathtub, long enough for her to stretch out in and be completely underwater.
There was amazingly enough hot water to fill it. That fact that there was women’s body wash, shampoo, and conditioner gave her pause, but then Drake’s little rescue/kidnapping scheme had to have also been planned in advance, which meant that the King’s Guards weren’t the only ones that had known that story was going to break ahead of time.
How long had Drake known and why hadn’t he warned her?
She had questions and she needed answers, but as she soaked in the steaming bath, she found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, so she climbed out, dried herself off, and climbed into the bed.
The mattress was soft, and the bed was piled high with fur-lined blankets and a goose-down comforter. She was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
A/N: Okay, so definitely a three-shot because I didn't manage to wrap up anything here lol.
A/N2: This is not the first time the Tariq situation has been reimagined, it's not even the first time I've reimagined it. But it was important to this story arc. The fallout from this night pushes Drake to a desperate move.
My other stuff: Master List.
Applewood….
Drake stood outside Riley’s door at the Applewood estate, hesitating with his hand halfway to the door. He shifted from foot to foot as he tried to decide the right way to apologize.
He had been a dick the last time they’d spoken, and he wanted to make it right if he could. He had no idea how to explain to her why he had reacted the way he had.
He couldn’t just tell her the truth, that she made him crazy with frustration and desire. That she made him feel things he’d never felt before. That watching her with Liam and the other members of the court, any one of which could give her all the things that he couldn’t, made him feel inadequate, invisible, and irrelevant.
That he lay awake at night tormented by thoughts of her. That she haunted his dreams. That he was indifferent, or even hostile to her, because letting her see anything else threatened to bring everything crashing down on all of them. That every little crack in his armor was dangerous.
That he wanted her with a burning passion stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before, and he was terrified of the feeling. That he was scared of the churning emotions inside him, afraid of what he might be capable of when it came to her. That he was no longer sure where his own boundaries lay.
The truth was that Nick had just been a convenient scapegoat, a perfect target for all his rage and agony, a man in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The problem was that all that rage and agony was still there.
He couldn’t tell her any of that.
Just as he was about to think better of it and walk away, he heard a scream from inside the room.
He reacted without thought, throwing the door open and charging into the room.
There was Riley, in her underwear, arms crossed defensively across her body with Tariq pawing at her like a slobbering pug-faced bulldog.
He made it across the room in three long strides. He gave no warning. He ripped Tariq away from her and flung him across the room, sending him tumbling over a chair and thudding into the wall.
Drake hopped the overturned chair in one fluid motion before Tariq could regain his feet and dropped his body onto him, straddling him.
Tariq’s head turned from one side to the other in a futile attempt to avoid the blows Drake pelted down on him. His arms covered his head as he twisted to the side.
Tariq managed to buck Drake off as he slid his body to one side and flipped onto his stomach. He pushed up on all fours and started to scramble to his feet.
Drake lunged for him, grabbing him by the ankle and jerking his body back, sending his face crashing into the floor.
Tariq flipped onto his back and kicked at his attacker, catching Drake in the face.
“Mother fucker!” Drake yelled as the blow sent him careening backward. He recovered quickly but Tariq was already on his feet and sprinting for the door.
Drake propelled himself upright and gave chase. He launched himself at the fleeing man just as he made it through the door and into the hallway.
They both hit the ground and skidded across the carpet to crash into the far wall.
“Get…off….me!” Tariq grunted as he kicked at Drake again.
Drake sat back on his knees and drew his fist back but before he could swing, he found himself being pulled from Tariq’s body.
He struggled against the hands restraining him, his attention laser-focused on the man using the wall to pull himself upright.
“I want him arrested!” Tariq bellowed, “He assaulted me!”
“I’m gonna do more than assault you, you sorry mother fucker, let me go!” Drake jerked free and dove for Tariq.
He was intercepted by two guardsmen. “Settle down son!”
Drake blinked at the familiar voice and ceased his attempts to break free, “Bas? What are you doing here?”
“Saving your sorry ass from a murder conviction apparently,” Bastien quickly gave orders to secure the scene and keep everyone separated as he hauled Drake into an empty bedroom and plunked him unceremoniously into a chair, “Talk me, son. What the hell just happened?”
“I interrupted a fucking sexual assault, that’s what!”
“Is it your accusation that Duke Lambros was the perpetrator of said assault?”
“Is it my accusation? What the hell, Bas? It’s what happened!”
“Okay, okay, and where did this alleged assault occur?”
“Alleged? Fuck you, Bas!” Drake stood up abruptly, “Where’s Riley? I need to see her; I need to make sure she’s okay!”
Bastien put his body between Drake and the door, “That’s not possible right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s being questioned right now. She’s a witness.”
“Witness? She’s the victim!”
“Okay, okay, we’ll get it all sorted out.”
“Who’s questioning her? Because the last thing she needs is another fucking man-“
“She’s with Mara, she’s fine. You need to worry about yourself right now, son.”
Drake blinked as a tiny sliver of self-preservation kicked in, “Myself? Why?”
“Having the head of the King’s Guard as your godfather definitely works in your favor, but my power only reaches so far. And I know Liam is your best friend, but still…”
“But still what?”
“You did assault a duke, a member of this court, here on a royal invitation!”
“I didn’t assault him!” Drake’s fingers pulled at his own hair, “I was defending Riley!”
“Well that’s the story he’s telling.”
“That’s not what happened! Ask Riley! She’ll tell you!” Drake’s arm flung out toward the door.
“We will, we are,” Bastien assured him, “you need to calm down right now. Don’t dig the hole any deeper.”
“Bas! You know me!” Drake paced away from his godfather, “You know I wouldn’t just attack a man for no fucking reason!”
“Not usually,” the older man agreed, “but you’ve been…. volatile lately. Want to tell me what that’s about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Drake snapped.
Bastien opened his mouth but before he could speak the door opened and Liam entered the room, “What the hell is going on? I was about to go to bed when I got a call that there was an assault in the palace?”
“Yes! Riley was assaulted but I stopped it!” Drake hurried back across the room to where Liam and Bastien stood just inside the door, “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”
“I just came from her room, she’s fine, just a little shaken up from all the violence she witnessed.” Liam turned his head from Drake to Bastien, “I understand that Tariq is telling an entirely different story?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bastien replied, “and that’s a bad thing for her because it’s her word against his and she’s a commoner and a foreigner.”
“I saw it happen!” Drake interjected, “I’m a corroborating witness!”
“No offense son, but your testimony doesn’t mean much right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be hard to find witnesses to testify to your erratic behavior lately which makes you an unreliable witness at best!”
“Why are you acting like this is my fault? Like I’ve done something wrong? I was the good guy in this scenario!”
“I’m trying to help you, son!”
“How is this helping me?”
“You’ve assaulted two members of the nobility this week, Drake. Beaten both of them pretty badly too. I’m just trying to keep you out of a jail cell!” Bastien was reaching the end of his patience.
“Fuck you, Bas! You’re always taking their side!” Drake swung a hand toward the doorway, his gesture meant to convey the entirety of the nobility, “You don’t give a rat’s ass about me!”
“You know that’s not true, I have always-“
“You have always tried to play dad to Sav and me because you have a thing for our mother. Don’t think we don’t see that!”
“Okay, lash out at me if that makes you feel better. But I am telling you in it’s everyone’s best interest to let this whole thing drop!” Bastien turned to Liam in frustration, “See if you can talk some sense into him!”
Bastien slammed out the door and Drake turned to Liam, “Li, we can’t let this drop! Tariq should pay for what he did!”
Liam regarded his childhood friend with a mixture of concern and trepidation, “You do understand that if Riley presses charges, so will Tariq, right? Then there will be a very public trial in which certain….things…will be brought to light.”
“What things?”
“Can we sit?” Liam gestured to the chairs at the side of the room.
“Okay,” Drake took a seat and clasped his hands together, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned toward Liam, “What things?”
Liam settled into the chair across from Drake as he collected his thoughts, “There have been some…concerning allegations about your behavior toward Riley, that could be construed to show you have an inappropriate fixation on her and that the attack on Tariq was a symptom of your borderline stalking behavior.”
Drake went ashen, “What the hell, Li? You know me better than that!”
Liam’s face betrayed no emotion as he asked, “Do I?”
“Seriously? We’ve been best friends since we were four years old!”
“Did you tell Lord Baxter that you were Riley’s head of security?”
“You mean the guy from the club the other night?”
“That’s the one.”
“I was just trying to convince him to leave! It was expedient! I-“
“Did you tell him to stay away from her?”
“He wasn’t authorized to be in the-“
“Forget the VIP lounge, did you tell him to stay away from Riley specifically?”
“Yes, but-“
“What were you doing outside her door tonight, Drake?” Liam’s voice held an edge Drake had never heard before.
“What?”
“I asked what you were doing outside Lady Riley’s door at eleven o’clock at night and I expect an answer.”
“I wanted to apologize for the other night.”
“For the attack on Lord Baxter?”
“No. I’m not sorry for that!”
“Right. Then what part were you going to apologize for?”
“For being an ass to her about it!”
“In what way were you an ass to her, Drake?”
“I just said some things…”
“What kind of things?”
“I may have accused her of inviting that Nick guy to the VIP section just to get a rise out of me.”
“And why would that get a rise out of you?”
“I…”
“I’m going to ask you again, Drake. Is there something going on between you and Riley?”
“No…not…no!”
“So, Tariq…”
“He put his hands on her, Li!”
“Yes, she told us that.”
“Good, good!” He relaxed back into his seat with a sigh.
“But…”
“But?” Drake sat up straight in agitated confusion.
“There’s not a scratch on her, Drake! It wasn’t an assault as much as an unwanted advance. Boorish, yes. Grounds for the beating you gave him? No.”
“You didn’t see-“
“You’ve known the man all your life, Drake! Do you really believe he’s a rapist?”
“I….I mean….if you had seen what I saw, Liam-“
“You saw him touching Riley?”
“Yes!”
“And that was enough to send you into a murderous rage?”
“I wouldn’t call it murderous…” He mumbled thudding back into his seat again.
“I think it would be best if you stayed away from her completely.”
“What?” Panic sliced through him. He couldn’t just never see her again.
“You heard me, Drake.”
“You have no right to dictate who she spends her time with, Li!” Drake leapt to his feet, “You don’t fucking own her!”
“I don’t think I own her, Drake,” Liam said grimly as he rose from his chair, “But you seem to think you do and that’s a problem for everybody.”
Astonishment hit Drake in the chest, “What the hell does that mean? I don’t think I own her, or anyone else for that matter!”
“Nonetheless, all things considered, I think it’s best if you keep your distance from her from here on out. Do that and I think I can convince Tariq not to press charges.”
“If I’d kept my distance tonight, Tariq could have…he….”
“I can assure you he won’t go near her again either. I’ll see to that.”
“If you care so much about her, you ought to be as horrified by Tariq’s behavior as I am, and she should have a guard detail!”
“Excuse me?”
“Why doesn’t she have her own guard detail?”
“Because none of the suitors have a guard detail,” Liam stared at him incredulously, “that’s not a thing…”
“Yeah, well, as you so eloquently pointed out, she isn’t used to all this bullshit and she’s far too trusting! Maxwell brought her here, but you encouraged her to stay so it’s your fucking responsibility to make sure she’s safe!”
“Drake, I understand this was upsetting but-“
“Upsetting? Upsetting? You told me you wanted to marry her, Li!”
“What’s that got to do with-“
“Why aren’t you upset, huh? Do you even love her? Or is she just the shiny new thing at court? She was attacked under your own roof tonight!”
“I can assure you that her well-being is of tantamount importance to me! I don’t appreciate-“
“I’m done with this conversation!” Drake stalked to the door and yanked it open.
“Where are you going?” Liam followed him into the hallway where several guardsmen still milled around.
“If you’re not going to ensure her safety, I will!” Drake called over his shoulder as he marched down the hallway.
“What does that mean? Where are you going?” Liam turned his head when Bastien walked up next to him, “What the fuck is he doing?”
“I don’t know, sir. Do you want me to detain him?” Bastien asked.
“No,” Liam sighed, “Just…keep an eye on him. Don’t let him do anything else stupid. And keep him away from Riley!”
Coronation Night….
The guards hustled her toward a waiting limousine, but they were interrupted by a separate contingent of guards.
Riley’s eyes darted between the two groups as she tried to discern what was going on. There was obviously a disagreement, voices were low but intense as an argument ensued.
After several long minutes of back and forth, the one that seemed to be in charge turned to the men on either side of her and jerked his head toward the new group of guardsmen, “Let her go! We’re officially transferring custody of the asset to the Guard Dogs!”
“Wait…the what?” Riley’s head spun around in confusion as she was passed from one set of guards to another.
As she was handed off, the young guardsman who grabbed her left arm took pity on her and tried to explain, “Dog is an acronym, it stands for Deconfliction Operations Group.”
The full official name of the unit was the Cordonian Royal Guard Deconfliction Operations Group. But no one ever said the Cordonian or Royal part when talking about the military regiment responsible for protecting the capital, the palace, and the royal family; it was commonly referred to as just the Guard, so the Guard D.O.G. became the guard dogs in Cordonian military vernacular.
“Okay…” she said as she was guided to a black SUV idling several yards behind the limo, “but what does that mean?”
“It’s a team that coordinates things between units; flights, troop movements, shit like that. So, when missions overlap or platoons are geographically close to each other, the chance of accidents or,” he did air quotes with the fingers of his free hand, “incidents are significantly decreased.”
That cleared up exactly nothing. “Right. But what does that have to do with me?”
“No idea, ma’am,” he gave her an apologetic smile as he placed her in the back of the waiting SUV, “that’s above my paygrade!”
“Do you at least know where I’m going?"
“I don’t know that either. Our orders were just to intervene and keep you from going to the airport.”
“And who did those orders come from?”
“The head of special units.”
“Which is who?” she demanded.
But the young soldier was gone, closing her door, and walking away.
The other door opened, and Drake slid into the backseat next to her, “Hey, Brooks.”
“Drake? What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen him since the attack on Tariq. The brutality of which had both shocked and alarmed her.
“Keeping you in Cordonia,” he gave her a soft, warm smile as if their last two encounters hadn’t been marked by violence and conflict.
“What do you mean?”
“Hold on,” he leaned forward and murmured something to the driver. The car rolled forward as the partition between the front and back seats rose.
“I mean…the palace guards were instructed to take you to the airport tonight and put you on a plane back to the states.”
“How do you know that?”
“Friends in low places, Brooks. Friends in low places.”
“But then who are these guys and why-“
“These guys are just following orders. The important thing is, you’re safe now.”
But was she?
She had no idea what had happened. One minute, Liam was talking about a future with her and the next he was engaged to someone else and she was being dragged from the ballroom by armed guards.
She had been the subject of a territorial dispute between two guard units and she had no idea whom either one worked for or what any of it had to do with her.
She pulled her cell phone out. She would text Liam. He would explain it.
“Whoa there, Brooks,” Drake pulled the phone from her hand and tossed it out the window.
“What the hell, Drake?” She made a swipe for her phone, but it clattered to the road behind them as the SUV pulled through the palace gates and turned toward the highway.
“That can be tracked, and I can’t keep you safe if I can’t keep your whereabouts secret, can I?”
“Safe from who? From what?”
“I don’t have all the details yet, but I will. Don’t worry.”
She was worried. She was very worried.
She was in a foreign country, with no friends or family or access to her own bank accounts.
In one fell swoop, she had been separated from the Beaumonts, Liam, Hana, and her cell phone.
And now she was alone in the back of an SUV going God knows where with a man whose intensity absolutely terrified her.
A/N: This is from my follower appreciation prompt wheel event from November 2022. I told you guys I hadn’t forgotten about it!
A/N2: This was supposed to be a one-shot but of course, it got a little out of hand. Much like Drake in this one lol. This will be either a two or a three-shot I’m thinking. No plans for a whole series, just when I passed 5k words with no end in sight, I decided to split it up.
A/N3: This takes place during the social season but is a complete AU from anything else I’ve written. I’ve added/made up events that are not in canon such as the Derby Gala and the Capricorn nightclub (things you have seen in other series if you read all my stuff).
A/N4: You may recognize the opening sequence. I originally wrote it for this story, then stole it for chapter 4 of Unexpected, then stole it back because I had further ideas for it here.
My other stuff: Master List.
This one came from @lovingchoices14 and the prompt was for Drake x dark x jealousy.
Masquerade Ball…
“What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?”
The voice came out of the darkness, right in her ear, though she’d heard no one walk up behind her.
She spun toward the voice, prepared to fight. Her open palm swung out, but her arm was captured mid-swing.
A low chuckle accompanied the grip around her wrist, “Whoa there, Brooks. No need for violence.”
“Drake? Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!” Relief spilled through her followed by confusion, “Wait…what are you doing out here? How did you know-“
“Don’t change the subject. What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?” he asked again.
She jerked her arm free from his grasp, “None of your business!”
“Hmm.” His eyes slid down her body and she shivered.
She could damn near feel his eyes touching her physically, “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” He blinked and the physical weight of his gaze was gone.
She shook her head, maybe she had imagined it, “Nothing, never mind.”
The Derby Gala…
On the plane ride over, she’d said he was more her type than Liam, that she didn’t normally go for the stuffy, rich guys. Yet there she was, dancing and flirting with a roomful of them. Again.
He swirled the whiskey around in his glass as he watched her from the bar at the edge of the ballroom.
The more she seemed to be enjoying herself, the more agitated he became.
His mind replayed every flirty interaction between them, from the plane ride over to how it felt lying next to her in the snow in Lythikos.
When he had pulled her up from the ground and caught her in his arms as she stumbled into him, something inside had sprung to life and despite his best efforts since, had refused to die.
When she’d slipped her hand into his and proclaimed it was for safety, he’d told her that they should both be careful. He hadn’t been talking about the slippery walking conditions.
Inviting her to meet him in Olivia’s wine cellar had been a mistake. Wanting her was a mistake. Entertaining the notion that she might return even a small fragment of the feelings he harbored for her was tantamount to treason. The jealous rage that stirred in his chest when other men touched her, watched her, looked at her like they wanted to devour her was dangerous.
He knew that he absolutely, positively, most definitely should turn around and walk out of that ballroom. He should go to his quarters and mute his desire for her with good whiskey and bad porn.
If he had a fraction of common sense and self-preservation, that’s exactly what he would have done.
What he did was slam his glass down onto the bar, jump to his feet, and storm out onto the dancefloor.
“Excuse me, but I believe the lady promised me this dance.”
“Oh, I…uh…but-“
He didn’t give the young nobleman a chance to protest before he had swept her to the other side of the floor, out of his reach.
“What are you doing, Drake?”
“I’m cutting in, what does it look like?”
“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”
“I said I don’t dance, I never said I couldn’t,” he mumbled.
“Okay…if you don’t dance, then why are you doing it now?”
He pulled her body tight against his own, his fingers digging into the small of her back, “You know why.”
“I…don’t…”
“Riley….”
Time stood still.
The use of her first name shocked her. His nearness clouded her judgment as they stood in the middle of the dance floor, not moving. The heat from his body as it pressed against hers, his scent washing over her, and the thump of his heart under her hand as it rested on his chest all conspired to make her temporarily lose her grip on sanity.
The feel of their bodies pressed so closely together left no misunderstanding about the state of his arousal. His arms wrapped so tightly around her telegraphed his need with perfect clarity. The pleading in his eyes as he stared down at her sent butterflies swooping through her stomach. In that moment, he was something she had never seen from him before.
Vulnerable.
Her hand moved to tangle in his hair. His body went completely rigid.
He leaned down.
She stretched up.
His lips stopped a fraction of an inch from hers.
She licked her lips and closed her eyes.
He stepped back and released her.
Her eyes flew open, “What are you doing?”
“We can’t….I shouldn’t….”
“Drake-“
He raked a hand brusquely through his hair, “Is this what you want, Brooks?”
“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion, thinking at first that he meant the two of them.
He gestured around the ballroom, “This? Fancy balls, expensive dresses, pretentious food… bowing and scraping to the nobility? Is this what you want?”
“Not exactly…”
“What do you want?” His gaze burned into her like he was searching for the answers to life itself.
“I…don’t know…”
“Well, figure it out, and soon, for all our sakes!”
“What does that mean?”
But he had already strode off the dance floor without answering her.
Capricorn Night Club….
Drake stood in the darkened nightclub chatting with one of Liam’s guardsmen, his eyes scanning the room, always on the lookout for her.
His eyes locked on her as she walked toward the VIP lounge in the exclusive nightclub Liam had dragged them to.
She smiled at him as she passed. A satisfied grin broke out across his face at the attention, his head turning to track her movements as she made her way from the main part of the club into the cordoned-off hallway leading to the VIP section.
A man that bore a passing resemblance to Liam followed behind her.
Drake’s head swiveled from Riley to the Liam look alike as his hand shot out and thumped into the dark-haired man’s chest, “Whoa there, buddy! Where do you think you’re going?”
“Oh, it’s okay!” the man pointed at the door Riley has just disappeared through, “I’m with the lady!”
A harsh laugh escaped him as he shoved the man backward, “Like bloody hell you are!”
“I don’t know who you think you are,” The man huffed, “but you can’t just-“
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are-“
“My name is Nick, I’m a-“
“It was a rhetorical question, dumbass!”
“I’m a count! You can’t just-“
“I don’t give two fucks who you are! I’m the head of her security,” he lied, ”Your title means shit to me and you’re not getting in there!”
Nick’s face reddened as he insisted, “I was invited!”
Drake stepped into his personal space and jabbed a finger into the other man’s chest, “You don’t hear well, do you? I don’t care what she said or what she did, you’re not getting near her!”
“Oh, I get it…you like her! Well,” Nick brushed at his chest as if Drake’s touch had sullied it, “you might have a little crush, but she obviously doesn’t feel the same way because she invited me back to-“
Drake’s voice had dropped dangerously low as he emphasized every word, “I told you, I don’t care what she did. You’re not getting through that door!”
“Who’s going to stop me? You?”
Drake threw his head back and laughed. This mother fucker had no idea who the hell he was messing with.
Months of having to sit idly by while he watched Liam court her rankled inside him. Having to additionally watch as any wanker with a title was able to fawn and paw all over her had only pushed his ire higher. He was a powder keg ready to go off and this tosser had just given him an acceptable target.
“I fail to see what’s so funny-“ Nick’s words were cut off by Drake’s fist. Blood spurted out of his mouth and nose as he staggered backward.
Nick made the mistake of swinging back.
Drake ducked the sloppily thrown uppercut and rammed head-first into the other man’s chest, taking him to the ground in the process.
Four guardsmen pulled him off Nick while he rained punches down on him. As he was pulled from the other man’s body, he managed to deliver one last kick as he told him, “Stay the fuck away from her!”
“This…this is an abuse of power! Of your position! I could report you!” Nick spluttered as two other guardsmen helped him to his feet.
Drake stopped struggling and shrugged off the guardsmen as he drew an arm across his mouth. The smile that slowly crawled across his face was full of amusement and malice as he drawled, “Oh yeah? To whom? The crown prince? The man determined to marry her?”
Nick paled, his eyes shooting from Drake’s face to the guardsmen scattered outside the doorway.
He found no sympathy and no hope of an ally in any of their faces. His shoulders slumped in defeat, “I…I didn’t realize…”
“Come on, guy,” one of the guardsmen clapped him on the back, “let’s go get you an icepack and I’ll walk you out of here.”
“Jesus, Drake!” the young guardsman he’d been chatting with earlier shook his head, “What the hell was that?”
“Nothing, Marco. Sorry. I’ll see you later. I have something I need to take care of.”
Drake stormed into the VIP lounge with rage boiling through his veins.
He found Riley standing at the ledge that overlooked the dancefloor, chatting and laughing with yet another simpering self-important nobleman.
“Excuse us, please,” he gave the man a brief glance, then to Riley, “We need to talk.”
“About what?” she asked as she stumbled to keep up with his long strides, something she had to do because his hand had a firm grip around her upper arm.
When they reached a private corner, he stopped and spun her around to face him, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Riley, but it stops now!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She jerked her arm away and rubbed the spot he had dug his fingers into.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” he yelled, “Flaunting that Nick guy right under my nose!”
“Not everything is about you, asshole! I’m allowed to make friends!”
“You knew damn good and well he was never going to get past Liam’s guard detail, so the only reason I can fathom for you inviting him to follow you back here is that you wanted to get my attention! Well, you’ve got it! So, what’s your game, Riley?”
“Oh, wow! You think really highly of yourself, don’t you? How was I supposed to know you’d be skulking around outside the door to the lounge?”
Drake reached for her, and she flinched away from him. All of the anger whooshed right out of him as shock and shame punched him in the gut.
Did she think he would hurt her?
“Riley…I’m sorry, I-“
“Is everything okay over here?” Liam’s eyes flicked back and forth from Riley to Drake in concern.
“Everything’s fine,” Drake said from between clenched teeth, “just tell your little girlfriend here not to be inviting strangers into the VIP area. It’s a hassle for the security team.”
Before Liam could answer, his phone chirped. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. His brows drew together in confusion then he looked up at Drake, “Did you assault someone trying to get into the VIP section tonight, Drake?”
“What?!” Riley gasped.
Drake’s eyes stayed locked on Riley’s as he shrugged, “Guy needs to learn to take no for an answer. He was sniffing around somewhere he had no business being.”
Liam rubbed his eyes with a sigh, “That’s what the security team is for, Drake. You should have left the guy to them, it’s literally their job.”
Drake’s eyes finally left Riley to give Liam his attention, “I’d say I’m sorry,” before sliding right back to Riley, “but I’m not.”
Liam noticed. “What the hell is going on between you two right now?”
She returned his gaze defiantly, “You got that right!” Then to Liam, “Drake is just being extra annoying tonight.”
Liam touched Riley’s shoulder, “Excuse us for a moment?”
“Sure, I should go find Nick and make sure he’s okay.”
“Too late for that, Brooks,” Drake smirked, “He’s already been escorted from the premises.”
An exasperated cry escaped the back of her throat as she tossed her head and stomped her foot before storming away.
Liam watched her go then turned back to Drake, “Is everything okay with you?”
“I’m fine, Li! That guy just-“
“I’m not talking about him. Could you go a little easier on Riley? For me?”
“What?”
“She isn’t used to all these restrictions, Drake! She makes friends everywhere we go, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Remember the night we met her? She took four total strangers on a tour of the city!”
“Yeah, well…maybe she should learn not to be so trusting.”
“Perhaps. But still. Just dial it back a bit, all right?”
“Yeah, all right, okay, I’ll try to ease up a little.”
“Good man! Thank you!” Liam clapped him on the shoulder, “And you're sure everything’s okay with you?”
“I’m fine, just had a bad day. I’m going to go find some whiskey. That always helps.”
He was spiraling out of control and he knew it.
He was at the bar four shots in when he saw her approaching. He turned away from her hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t.
“Drake, what the hell was that about earlier?”
“Go away, Brooks,” he signaled the bartender for another drink.
“You can’t just go around beating people up!”
“I can and I will,” he finally turned toward her with the fresh drink in his hand, “if you were so concerned about that guy’s wellbeing, you shouldn’t have used him to provoke me.”
“I wasn’t using him to do shit! I just thought he was funny, and I wanted him to meet Maxwell!”
Drake threw the drink back, then stood up, “Whatever. I don’t have time for this. I have shit to do.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what? What do you do, Drake? Other than hang around and harass me?”
“I do things, Brooks,” he replied tightly as he tossed a handful of bills onto the bar top.
“What things?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a skeptical smirk.
He tried to walk away but she was blocking his way. He stopped in front of her, “Things you don’t need to worry about!”
“Right. Because those things are nonexistent!”
“Is that all you care about? Career? Position?” he leaned closer, bringing his mouth to her ear as he whispered the last word, “Money?”
“I don’t care about any of those things!” She spat at him, “but dating broke, unemployed losers hasn’t exactly gotten me anywhere in life, has it?” She shrugged, “I’m trying something different right now, that’s all.”
He drew back. His jaw clenched. “Is that how you see me?”
“What?” Her pique drained away as her mind scrambled to catch up with the sudden change in his demeanor.
His feelings were hurt.
“A broke, unemployed loser?”
“No! That’s not what I-“
“It’s fine. I’m used to entitled stuck-up bitches looking down on me. Just didn’t expect it from you!”
She watched him walk away, a mixture of regret, fury, and frustration swirling through her.
The accusation stung.
The truth was, she’d been fighting her growing attraction to him since they’d met. But he ran so hot and cold, she had no idea how he felt about anything. Sometimes they got along. Most of the time he acted indifferent to her existence. Occasionally he was downright hostile to her. But then there were moments like Lythikos and the Derby Gala. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something that threw her a curveball.
He was frustrating, infuriating, and obnoxiously attractive. Every time he came close to her, her body ignited with an incendiary heat, one that she was sure she couldn’t, and shouldn’t trust.
Drake Walker was dangerous in more ways than one. He was angry, unpredictable, and confounding. He acted like a jealous boyfriend one minute and as if he barely liked her the next.
He was also intelligent and funny when he decided to let his guard down a little and show it. There were times when she suspected there might be an actual heart under all that bluster and sniping.
She utterly hated the fact that his mere presence provoked reactions in her body that she didn’t seem to be able to control and she was beginning to worry about just how much of a problem he was going to be.
Crown Princess Eleanor Rys ran down the hallway followed closely by her younger brother Prince Alexander.
Riley sidestepped them as they nearly collided with her, giggling and shrieking as they chased each other through the palace.
“You okay there?” Drake laughed softly as reached out to steady her.
“I’m fine.” She replied as she watched them disappear around the corner.
She was the biological mother of both of Liam’s biological children and she loved them dearly, but Liam and Max were their parents. She and Drake filled more of an aunt and uncle role in their lives. She had willingly donated her eggs and let a surrogate carry them.
“I’m just surprised Jax and Jace aren’t right behind them.”
“Spoke too soon!” Drake chuckled, pulling her closer to him as his son Jaxon rounded the corner followed closely by Jace.
Riley and Liam had come clean about their arrangement in an exclusive interview with Ana De Luca a year after Constantine’s death. There had been some grumbles from the older, more conservative members of court, but for the most part, the public didn’t care, as long as they were good rulers. And they were.
Jax had been conceived after both of Liam’s biological children were born and cemented into the line of succession.
Liam had asked Riley for one more egg and she had been happy to donate again. This time, to be combined with Max’s sperm.
Prince Jason Percival Beaumont Rys had been fully and legally adopted by Liam, giving him two legal fathers. It had been precedent-setting for Cordonia and most of Europe.
“You sure you’re okay?” Drake asked, dropping his hand to her stomach.
“Yes, baby girl Walker and I are both just fine.” She told him before tilting her head back for a kiss.
“Okay then. Let’s get going,” he guided her down the hall, “Liam and Max are waiting and we’re going to win game night this time!”
Riley giggled. Liam and Max always won, but that didn’t stop Drake from being competitive. “Leo and Liv are coming too, right?”
“Yes, and Bert and Sav. Also, Hana and Madeleine.” He shuddered a little. That was still a pairing that he would never understand.
Drake stood outside the door of the lake house. Normally he would have been impressed with the amazing view of the lake and the access to excellent fishing.
Instead, he barely noticed his surroundings as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.
What if she wasn’t there? What if Ryder had been wrong? What if she’d been there but left, moved on somewhere else? What if she was there and wouldn’t answer the door?
Worse yet, what if she didn’t want to see him?
He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath as he tipped his head up toward the sky in silent prayer, and knocked on the door.
He was just about to give up on getting an answer when the door swung open.
“Drake? What are you doing here?” She seemed shocked, but not displeased, to see him.
He’d take that as a good sign.
“Oh, thank God!” His breath exploded out of him as relief crashed into him.
Before she could respond, he was through the door, sweeping her off her feet and into the air with a thankful laugh.
The heaviness lifted from his chest as the vise around his heart loosened. The burden he had been carrying tumbled from his shoulders as light filtered back into his soul.
She was in his arms again and nothing else mattered. None of it.
Not her marriage to his best friend, not the social and political obligations she carried on her own shoulders, not his stupidity, not his deployment, nothing.
The only thing that mattered was wrapped in his arms laughing and crying at the same time.
“Drake…how-“
His lips collided with hers as he sat her back down on her feet.
His hands cupped her face as his mouth devoured her.
Her lips were soft as eiderdown, her mouth warm, inviting, her tongue probing, insistent, her fire matching his own.
She stumbled backward down the hall, pulling him with her, their lips still locked on each other.
The entryway opened into a large living area. She continued to move backward, toward the couch, never releasing her grip on him.
They moved as one, hands exploring, lips moving across lips, clothes being pulled from bodies and dropped to the floor as they went. A trail of discarded clothing dotted the room from the entryway to the plush, oversized sofa.
They sank onto the couch together, murmuring words of love and reconciliation. I missed you’s and I love you’s were muffled by lips on lips and mouths on bodies.
They fell together, fingers gliding across bare skin, hearts thumping in chests, tongues tangling in mouths, hands twisting in hair, bodies pressing into each other.
They collided together, him sinking into her, her arching toward him, moving as one, perfectly in synch, as if their bodies were extensions of each other.
They crashed over the edge together, fingers digging into muscle, sweat mingling with sweat, flesh pressed against flesh, moans issuing from lips.
They collapsed to lie tangled together, naked and laughing.
“I still can’t believe you’re here!” She said with a happy sigh, “How are you here?”
“Well, one minute I was in the middle of a jungle, and the next, I was on a flight back to Cordonia, my duty station reassigned via royal decree.”
“What?” She gasped as her eyes grew round and wide, “You mean-“
“Yes, Liam had me reassigned to the royal guard so he could send me to look for you.”
“Wait!” She pushed away from him, “You’re here for Liam?”
He grabbed her arm as she tried to scoot away from him and stand up. He pulled her back down into his arms, “No! Listen to me, please!”
“I’m listening….” The guarded tone in her voice killed him a little.
“Yes, Liam asked me to take the special assignment to track you down and bring you back, but that’s not why I accepted it. I took the job so I could find you because I love you! I’m not here to take you back, Ren. Not unless you want to go.”
“What are you saying, Drake?”
“I’m saying that I’m here for you, not Liam! I’m here for whatever you need me here for! If you want to run, we’ll run. If you want to stay here and file for divorce, we’ll stay here and fight. If you want to go back, we’ll go back. Whatever we do, the decision is yours.”
“Drake…what you’re suggesting is treason!”
He smiled ruefully, “We’ve already been committing treason, baby. Every time I look at you, every thought in my head is fucking treasonous!”
“Okay then.” She relented.
“Why did you leave?” He studied her face as he waited for her answer.
“You have to ask?”
“Yes! I asked you to run away and you said no.”
“Drake, I’m sorry-“
“It’s fine. I understand. You were right. You had a whole laundry list of reasons you couldn’t leave, and they were all valid. So, what changed?”
“Nothing. I just needed time to think.”
“About what?”
“What do you mean about what, Drake? About this!” She gestured between them, “Liam and I were about to leave for the honeymoon, and I panicked! I couldn’t do it! I can’t…. I love you! I know what’s expected on the honeymoon and I just couldn’t go through with it, ok?”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“What? Did you expect me to be upset that you decided not to sleep with my best friend?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
“That’s the only way to put it!” He laughed as he pulled her into another kiss, “Now, come here, I’m not through making up for lost time!”
She giggled as he nipped at the delicate flesh below her ear. “I have no objections to that!”
````````````
Drake tended the fire while Riley sat staring into it, her feet pulled up under her in the Adirondack chair, watching the flames dance and twist in the air.
He glanced out over the lake, it was streaked with colors as the sinking sun splattered the blue with reds, oranges, and yellows.
The loud cacophony of katydids, crickets, and cicadas was audible even over the crackling and snapping of the fire. The fire spit sparks in every direction as smoke tendrilled up into the sky.
“It’s beautiful up here.” He told her as he took the seat next to her.
“Yes, it is. It’s why Gran loved it so much. Me too. I wish we could just stay here forever.”
“If that’s what you really want, we can.”
“We can’t, and you know it.”
“Hey, whatever we do, we do it together.”
“Drake, I can’t ask you to-“
“You’re not asking. Listen, Ren. I don’t think you understand the depth of my feelings for you! I know I ran away, but that’s because I’m an idiot. The last few months were the most god-awful of my life and I’m never making that mistake again! I’m never leaving your side again and that’s a damn promise.”
“Don’t you still have over a year and a half left on your contract?”
Drake shrugged, “I’ve already been transferred to the Royal Guard, so if we go home, I’ll be living at the palace anyway.”
“And if we don’t?”
He shrugged again, “Then none of it matters anyway. If we run, I’ll be going AWOL.”
“No.” She shook her head, “I can’t, I won’t, ask you to do that! The penalties-“
“Only apply if we get caught. And if we run and get caught, I’ll have far worse charges than desertion hanging over my head.”
“No.” she said again, “I know how much your military career means to you! I’m not asking you to give it up!”
“Then I guess you’re going back to Cordonia. Because that’s the only way I’m going back.”
“Oh, my God, why are you so infuriating?”
He gave her a sardonic grin, “Part of my boyish charm?”
“I don’t think so.” She laughed.
There was no universe in which she made any choice that put him in danger. That meant going back to Cordonia. She heaved a great sigh.
He took her hand in his, “Hey, listen. Liam is my best friend, and he’s a good person. We just need to talk to him. I’m sure there’s a way-“ He was interrupted by a pinging from his phone. He pulled it out and swiped it open, scrolling quickly through the message.
His eyes kept going to her face then back to the screen as he read.
“What?” She asked in alarm.
“Nothing.” A grin spread across his face, “Just…I think, maybe everything’s going to be ok, look!”
He pushed the phone into her hands and she quicky read the message.
When you find her, please let her know that I have an offer I think she, and you, will be happy with. We can renegotiate the terms of our marriage contract. I’m willing to add a provision for a Cordonian Arrangement. I would like to talk details and see if we can’t come to a mutually beneficial agreement before throwing in the proverbial towel. She knows as well as I do all the reasons this union needs to succeed, but I’m amenable to a marriage that is in name only as long as we can come to acceptable terms.
“See?” Drake was practically gloating, “I told you he’s reasonable. What do you think?”
“I think we’re going back to Cordonia!”
`````````````
Liam was waiting for them in his study when they arrived.
Drake kept a hand protectively at Riley’s back as he guided her into the room.
“Please,” Liam gestured to the two chairs that were directly across the desk from him, “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”
Maxwell Beaumont stood from the loveseat pushed against the far wall, and made his way to the drink cart, “We have whiskey, Drake. I’m sorry, Riley, I’m not sure what you like…”
“Max, what are you doing here?” Drake felt confusion wash over him. “I thought this was a private meeting.”
“It is,” Liam confirmed as his guard retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. “This meeting is on a need to know basis only.”
“Thanks, Max,” Riley told him as she lowered herself into one of the chairs. “Water is fine.”
Max crossed the room and handed them each a glass, “Liam will explain everything. Please, sit.”
Drake took the proffered drink with a nod as he took the other seat, “Okay. I’m all ears.”
Liam tented his fingers as he spoke, “Riley, you’re not the only one that gave up the chance to marry for love when you accepted the terms of this marriage. I was involved with someone that I loved deeply, and I cut it off to try and make this marriage work. A losing endeavor as it turns out.”
Drake’s mouth fell open, “Who? I’ve never seen you keep the same woman around for more than-“ He stopped in midsentence as his eyes fell on Max.
Liam had never shown more than a fuck boy type interest in any given woman he’d seduced on the dancefloor, be it in the palace ballroom or in a crowded private club. But Drake knew Liam was bisexual, and that he’d had a handful of longer term relationships with men over the years.
His world spun as bits and pieces of memories exploded then reassembled themselves. “Shit, Li!” He breathed out, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Liam shrugged, “We knew it wouldn’t have a future. I knew I had to marry for duty. I knew I had to produce heirs. I knew my father would never allow it.”
“Wait.” Riley said, “Who-“
“Max.” Drake answered her, his hand going to cover hers, “He’s in love with Max.”
“Oh.” Her eyes tracked over Max’s face, and she startled, “Oh! Oh!”
“What?” Drake asked, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two.
“Nothing, just, I always got the feeling you didn’t like me, Max. Is this why?”
Max flushed guiltily, “Yes. I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t your fault, but-“
“It’s ok.” She told him, “You don’t have to apologize! I would feel the same way in your shoes!”
“Well, fuck.” Drake swore, “Isn’t this just a great big clusterfuck? What are we going to do about it?”
Relief washed through him.
Liam wasn’t interested in Riley. Not like that.
“My proposal.” Liam sat up straight in his chair, snapping into business mode, “Riley and I stay married for all the political reasons we got married for in the first place. But it will remain a marriage in name only. Am I correct in assuming that you ran because you didn’t want to consummate our union?”
Riley squeezed Drake’s hand for reassurance as she nodded.
“We will remove that from the table.” Liam acquiesced, “We will treat the position of queen as a job title, with no sexual or romantic interactions implied or required. We will add a Cordonian Arrangement to our marriage contract, granting both of us the right to take a lover. Details of the arrangement will be kept confidential, for now. The general public doesn’t need to know.”
Maybe once Constantine was dead.
“That…that sounds incredibly generous and reasonable, Liam.” Riley replied, “But what about heirs?”
She felt Drake stiffen in the chair next to her. A quick glance at his face told her that he was struggling with that idea, but it had to be asked. It was the centerpiece of the agreement, one of the main duties she had signed up for.
“The provisions of heirs will be left up to you.”
“What do you mean? I’m confused, because I know you are required-“
“I am required to produce heirs. Yes. From the Rys bloodline. They don’t have to be with you.”
“But…who else-“
“We have options that our ancestors didn’t, Riley. I have sperm. I am ready and willing to find an egg donor and a surrogate if you do not wish to be involved. If you do, then we can use your eggs and you can carry them, or not. You can be the mother of my children if you wish, without the need for sexual congress. If you prefer not to be, we can use a surrogate and let the public assume you’re infertile.”
“Okay.” She was starting to feel hopeful for the first time since she’d come to Cordonia, “But…”
“But?” Liam prompted. Really, what more did she want?
“What if I do want children someday, but I want them to be….Drake’s?”
Drake shook his head, “Ren! I don’t need children! I’m fine with whatever you and Liam decide about that, I promise!”
“I’m glad, Drake. But…I might want to have your baby someday. I mean, I know we’re not there yet, but-“
He leaned forward in his chair to cup her face with his hand, “I love the idea of you having my baby, that’s not it! I just don’t want to cause any issues for you, or for Liam. And I do not want kids more than I want you, so it’s a nonissue, okay?”
“We have time.” Liam interjected, “We can negotiate those details. Let’s say that after there are at least two blood heirs to the throne and we’ve made the details of our arrangement public, then you can do what you want. The public won’t care, and my father will be long dead by then.”
The thought of his father dying didn’t even bother him, and he felt guilty for that, but Constantine had been neither a good king nor a good father and Liam wouldn’t miss him. What he would miss was the illusion that things were ever going to change, because as long as Constantine was alive, there was hope. But as his mental state deteriorated day by day, so did the hope that he was ever going to make amends and give Liam the parental approval he had spent his life chasing.
He was done living for his father.
He was going to be the best king he knew how to be, but he was going to do it on his terms. With Max by his side.
He was going to be happy.
Riley looked at Drake as a smile of joy spread over her countenance. This was better than she could have hoped for.
She got to do right by her country, her family, and the entire region, politically speaking. She got to put her skills and training to good use as queen and she regained full control of her personal life.
Most importantly, she got Drake.
And maybe, with the pressure and expectations of a traditional marriage off the table, she and Liam would become effective ruling partners and she and Max could be actual friends.
Drake smiled back as he finally saw the path to the future open in front of him.
He would stay in the Royal Guard. Maybe even request a promotion to the Queen’s Guard. He could stay at the palace and be with the woman he loved. He would no longer dread a future where he had to watch her be his best friend’s wife in actuality.
She’d still be queen, and the public would still think, for now, she was Liam’s, they’d have to be discreet, but those were details that could be worked around.
Who would have ever thought that he and Max would be in the same proverbial boat?
He glanced across the room at his lifelong friend, wondering how he hadn’t seen the signs. In retrospect, they were obvious. Max might have been in love with Liam since they were kids.
Max relaxed on the loveseat as he watched the meeting unfold exactly as Liam had predicted it would. Why wouldn’t it?
Liam was a consummate statesman and Max hadn’t doubted his plan for one minute.
Liam had counted on Riley’s commitment to duty and country running as deep as his own, he had counted on Drake’s loyalty, he had counted on logic and reason winning Riley over and the emotional appeal of having her romantically to himself winning Drake over. He had counted on taking sex off the table to turn the tide in his favor.
He had counted correctly.
He always did.
It was one of the many reasons he was going to make a great king.
Max wanted to support him in any way he could. He didn’t care about titles or recognition or what the public knew. He just wanted Liam.
Riley looked into Drake’s eyes. She already knew what she wanted to do.
Drake squeezed her hand as he responded, “I already told you; I’ll do whatever you want. I’m not running away again.”
Riley turned back to Liam, “Have the new contract drawn up and send it to my lawyer to look over. This sounds like a perfect solution for all of us!”
“Happy you think so!” Liam pulled a document out of a desk drawer and slid it across the mahogany surface to her, “I took the liberty of having it drawn up already. Please, have whomever you want to look it over, take your time deciding, but Riley?”
“Yes?”
“Next time there’s an issue, I need you to come to me, okay? You can’t just run away.”
“I know!” She flushed in shame, “I’m sorry! I just…panicked.”
“I want us to be on the same page. We are a unit. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel that way before. We both have some things we need to work on, but from now on, the four of us are a team, okay? If it affects one of us, it affects all of us and we come to each other before any decisions are made. Can we all agree on that?”
They absolutely could.
Sighs, smiles, and laughter filled the private study as four people’s happiness and futures, which had been in doubt just days before, were now assured.
The future king and queen of Cordonia, along with their respective lovers, had finally found common ground on which to forge a true alliance, one that would follow their families, their children, and their countries into the future.
Pairings: Riley x Drake (mostly), Riley x Liam (sort of), Liam x ?
Rating: NSFW
Warnings: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋
Word Count: 2,067
Summary: Drake gets a lead on Riley's whereabouts. Liam gets a late night visitor.
My other stuff: Master List.
Monterisso….
“Wait!”
The gravel crunched under his feet as Drake stopped in the middle of the extra wide, white marble driveway. He turned to watch the young man jogging to close the distance between them. He was roughly six foot tall, with a slim athletic build. His short cropped hair was a few shades lighter than Riley’s, but the shape of his forehead and the point of his chin were almost identical.
“Ryder?” Drake guessed correctly. He vaguely remembered him from the wedding.
“Yeah. Sorry about my parents. They can be….less than helpful.”
“I don’t think they know anything.”
“They wouldn’t!” Ryder laughed, “My sister would never tell them anything. None of us would. Nothing important anyway.”
“What about you?” Drake asked.
He had tried tracking her through credit card purchases, but she hadn’t made any since leaving the palace. She must have had the foresight to take cash. Likewise, her GPS enabled car had been left at the train station.
“What about me?” Ryder responded.
“Would she tell you?” He was very sure she would.
Ryder fixed Drake with a level look, “She might. But if I had heard from her, I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You’re him, aren’t you?”
“Him, who?”
“The guy. The one she met the night before the wedding.”
“She told you about that?”
Ryder nodded, “We tell each other pretty much everything.”
“So where is she?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone! But…”
“But?”
“I don’t think she meant you! She didn’t expect you to come looking for her. Aren’t you supposed to be in Rivala?”
“Yeah, well, I got reassigned.”
Ryder’s eyebrows shot up, “You’re here on behalf of the king?”
“Yes and no.” Drake replied carefully.
“Could you elaborate on that?”
“I mean….yes, Liam had me reassigned to the royal guard because he needed someone he could trust to do this discreetly and if we’re being honest, likely because he knew I’m the one person she won’t run away from. But none of that is why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I have to find her, I need to find her! I have to know she’s okay!” Desperation and anguish laced every word.
“What if you find her and she doesn’t want to go back?”
Drake shrugged, “Then we’ll figure that out, together.”
“Together, huh?”
“Yeah, together. I’m not making the same mistake twice. I won’t leave her side again, whether she’s at the palace or….not.”
“That’s potential treason you’re talking about, you know.”
Drake’s jaw clenched, but his resolve was strong, “I’m aware.”
“You’d do that for her?”
“I’d do anything for her, but I have to fucking find her first! So, if you know where she is, please, I-“
“I can’t break a direct promise to my sister but….”
Drake inclined his head in encouragement.
Ryder continued, “You called her Ren. No one calls her that anymore. She told me about giving you that name the night you met, because she couldn’t reveal her true identity to a stranger.”
“Yeah, I know. She gave me her childhood nickname because she didn’t want to out and out lie by giving a made up name.” Because that’s the kind of person she was. Even thinking she would never see him again; she hadn’t wanted to lie to him.
“Did she tell you why that was her childhood nickname?”
“Because she was named after her grandmother and your mother thought it would be confusing to have two Riley’s around, so she started calling her by her middle name, Renee.”
“Which got shortened to Ren, by me, because I couldn’t pronounce the whole word.”
“Okay,” Drake said carefully, “What’s that got to do with where she’s at?”
“Nothing, just, you know, she was always very close to Gran, used to spend the summer with her at her lake house in Balymort. I mean, she loved it there, it was her go to place when she was stressed about something. Of course, Gran is gone now.”
“And the lake house?”
“Belongs to Riley now.”
Drake’s face lit up with relief, “Does this lake house have an address?”
“It does.” Ryder quickly gave it to him.
Drake typed the address into the GPS on his phone, “Thank you! You’re a good brother, Ryder, thank you!” He stumbled over his own feet in his haste to get back to his car.
“Just remember that I didn’t technically tell you anything!” Ryder called after him.
Cordonia….
There was a knock on his office door. Liam glanced up at the clock in surprise. It was late. Most of the staff had gone home. His father had retired for the evening.
“Come in.” He called, wondering who it could be. He was tired, he was overworked, he was stressed about the situation with his wife. He wasn’t in the mood for company.
“Hey.” Came a soft, familiar voice as the door snicked open.
All of the stress and tiredness washed right out of his body as his face lit up with surprise and happiness, “What are you doing here?”
His visitor shrugged, “You seemed stressed earlier. I thought you could use some company.”
Liam’s eyes tracked his former lover’s movements across the room, to the drink cart, then back across the room to his desk. He reached out and took the offered bourbon, “How do you always know just what I need?”
“Because I pay attention,” Came the answer, quiet and sincere, “Because I love you.”
“I love you too,” Liam answered as he stared down into his glass, “And I miss you.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“I-“
“I’ve stayed away like you asked, to give your marriage a chance at working. Is it?”
“No.” He admitted. “I’m always working, we barely speak to each other and she’s in love with someone else.”
A snort, “So all your noble sacrifices were for nothing.”
Liam’s head snapped up, “I did what I felt was right for Cordonia, you know that! It was never about what I wanted!”
“How does it hurt Cordonia for you to be happy, Liam?”
“I…I just knew that I had to make the political marriage and I assumed she would want all the things that customarily come with that.”
“You know that I understand all of that, right? All of it! I would never do anything to hurt you, or Cordonia or tarnish the public image of the monarchy. I know how to be discreet.”
“What are you saying?” Liam felt hope, and heat, start to rise in his chest.
“I think you know what I’m saying.”
“You would take me back? After….everything?”
“Everything what? We never had an issue until you felt you had to cut things off to make your arranged marriage work. It was never my choice to end things at all! I never stopped loving you, Liam, never! I’ve just been waiting, and hoping, for you to change your mind.”
“But all I can offer you is a hidden relationship, secret rendezvous, always in the background, never-“
The other man moved suddenly, quickly, surging out of his chair and around the desk, he took Liam by the lapels and pulled him to his feet, “I’m fine with all of that, Li, you know I am! When have we ever been public? I will always do what you require of me! Did I not prove that when I stood up next to you as a groomsman at your fucking wedding?”
Liam swallowed the lump in his throat, as the familiar and comforting scent of his lover washed over him, the electricity snapping between them, Liam’s voice went low and husky, “Yes, Max, yes you did.”
“I still love you.” Max whispered, his lips brushing fire across Liam’s. “Let me show you.”
“Show me.” Liam murmured, lips touching lips, as his hand slid across the front of Max’s trousers, “Now. I need you, Max.”
Their lips crashed together, tongues entwining, breath quickening as their hands explored, reacquainting themselves with each other.
Max deftly undid the buttons on Liam’s shirt as he trailed hot, wet kisses down his chest and abdomen. He sank to his knees as he unfastened his slacks.
“Oh shit.” Liam breathed out as his hands sank into Max’s hair and his head fell back.
Max ran his tongue teasingly around the tip, lapping up the precum. He licked up and down Liam’s length, slowly at first, then faster, with more pressure.
“Max….Max….” Liam panted, trying to pull him upright.
Max resisted his efforts, dodging his hands and dropped himself lower to lick and suck at Liam’s balls.
Liam staggered back, clutching the edge of the desk to keep himself upright. “Fuck, Max, please! I don’t want to cum in your mouth, I want to be inside you!”
“Too bad.” Max smirked up at him before taking his cock completely into his mouth and sucking.
And Max could suck the chrome off a bumper, Liam was sure of it. He was insanely good at what he was doing, and it had been months since Liam had had any release from anything other than his own hand. Far too soon, he was spilling himself down Max’s throat.
“Fuck. Max! That wasn’t fair!”
Max stood up with a sexy grin on his face, “All’s fair in love and war.”
“Oh yeah?” Liam reached for him with the first genuine laugh he’d had in months, tugging him closer by the waistband of his pants, “Your turn.”
“Oh, you don’t have to- oh!” Max’s body bowed forward as Liam pulled his cock free and wrapped his hand around it. “Oh! OH!”
Each pump of Liam’s fist jerked another “OH!” out of Max as his body spasmed.
“Jesus, Max, I’m hard again already!” Liam panted as he reached into a desk drawer for a small tube. He squeezed a liberal amount into the palm of his hand and returned it to Max’s cock, sliding his hand up and down, back and forth and around, spreading the lube while being ridiculously turned on by the low moans and whimpers spilling out of him.
Liam quickly coated his own cock with the lube, then took both dicks in his hand, pressing them base to base, sliding his hand up and down, jerking them both off as he did. The sensation of Max’s cock pressed into his own was overwhelming, shooting throbbing waves of ecstasy through his entire body. His hand glided slowly up and down their shafts, their foreheads pressed together, both men’s breathing ragged.
“Oh, god, Li, I’m close, I’m so fucking close!” Max gasped out.
Liam’s free hand went to tangle in Max’s hair, eyes locked, as he whispered, “Cum for me, baby, let go, give in, I got you.”
Liam continued to whisper soft words of encouragement into his ear as Max’s face contorted, a drawn out, high pitched whine escaped him, followed by a primal wail as he exploded in Liam’s hand.
“That’s my good boy.” Liam told him as he jackhammered his hand up and down on himself, using Max’s cum for lubrication. He kept his other hand gripped tight in Max’s hair as he rushed toward the edge again.
Both of Max’s hands cupped Liam’s head as he told him, “I fucking love you!”
At that declaration, Liam came again, hard. Tears pricked in his eyes as he held Max in place by his hair, unwilling or unable to release him. He slowly lifted his head to make eye contact as his fingers finally loosened, but he didn’t step away, “I love you too and I was a fool to ever think I could live without you.”
Max regarded him with a guarded expression, “I don’t expect anything to change. That’s not what this was about.”
Liam froze, “What was this about?”
“I told you. I love you. You’ve been stressed. Like you said, I always know what you need.”
“Is that all? Do you still want….this?” Liam pulled his hand free from Max’s hair to gesture between them.
Max nodded, “Yes. But I understand your position, you’ve made it very clear.”
“My position has changed.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Liam stepped back, using his discarded shirt to clean himself up with, “That you’re not going back to Ramsford. Send a car for your things.”
Pairings: Riley x Drake (mostly), Riley x Liam (sort of)
Rating: MA
Warnings: none
Song Inspiration: All Out of Love by Air Supply
Word Count: 2,659
A/N: The C-130 troop and cargo transport, affectionally referred to as a "Herc" by military personnel, if anyone is interested.
My other stuff: Master List.
He’d known it was a mistake before he even made it back to his duty station. But it was too late, he was on his way back to Rivala. He tossed his rucksack in the pile with everyone else’s and took his seat in the C-130, regret crashing through him.
He was running toward danger, back into the line of fire, but he'd never felt more like a coward. He’d let his feelings of rejection and his damaged pride get in his way. It was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
He couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want to drink. He had an early wake up in the morning and needed to be sober when he reported for duty. So, he walked.
It was a habit he’d formed as a teenager, after his father’s death. After his mother and Savannah had cried themselves to sleep, he’d found himself slipping away, roaming the grounds, the gardens, the woods behind the palace, the rolling expanses of open lawn. Just wandering, often times until morning, only able to fall into an exhausted sleep after the sun rose. The reds and oranges streaking the sky, the bright, happy sound of bird sound, the softness of a new day, the beauty of it lost to exhaustion and grief.
Over the years it had become his go to when he was stressed or struggling with a major decision. He suffered from insomnia and the physical activity helped.
He found himself in the hedge maze, at the clearing with the wishing well. He slumped down on the bench, memories of the night they’d met there running through his mind.
“Drake?”
He looked up, startled. “Ren. What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She told him, “Can I sit?”
He scooted over immediately, “Of course!”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me….”
“Of course I do! I….I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me!”
“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”
“I outed us, you, to Liam. I wasn’t trying to throw you under the bus, I just-“
She waved a hand in the air dismissively, “You were right, though. He had a right to know. I’m sorry I ever asked you to keep it from him. I just thought that, if it turned out to be nothing more than that one night, what was the point of telling him?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
They sat in silence for a long while.
“Well, I guess I should get back to my room.” She said finally, as she rose from the bench.
“Oh, yeah, probably.” He looked up. The moonlight shimmered in her hair, and she took his breath away. He was an idiot.
She stopped and turned back toward him, “Do you….want to come?”
“What?”
“I mean, I know you’re leaving in the morning, but we still have tonight….”
He was pulled out of his musings when they landed in Rivala. He found the general in charge and accepted his new command post. He’d be leading a team into the forest. Roughly thirty percent of the area they were there to protect and defend was forested, requiring regular patrols and lots of recon. It meant he’d be completely incommunicado with everyone outside the military for a while. No cell phone reception in the bush and no way to charge one, and even if there had been, there was no way the military was risking a cell phone notification alerting the enemy to their position. Cell phones were left behind at base.
“Everything ok, Captain?”
“Everything is fine. I just need to make a call before we ruck up in the morning.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Just turn your phone in to the duty sergeant before you leave.”
An hour later he stood fidgeting nervously willing her to pick up her phone.
“Hello?” Her voice was tentative.
“Oh, thank God you answered! I wasn’t sure you would want to talk to me!”
“Of course I want to talk to you! I’ve been waiting by my phone all day!”
“You were expecting me to call?”
“Hoping was more like it.” Her tone was cautious. She was still hurt. He didn’t blame her.
“Hey.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her neck.
“What?” She mumbled as she rolled toward him. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. They hadn’t talked much either, letting physical touch say everything instead.
“I have to go now. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Shit.” She sat up in bed and blinked at him. He was fully dressed. “You went back to your room?”
“Yes, to shower and pack. My bag is ready to go.”
“I don’t want you to go.” She whispered.
“I know. But it’s for the best, really.”
“I don’t see how.”
He sighed as he ran a hand down his face, “You’re married, Ren. Both of you seem committed to staying that way.”
“Drake, I told you why!”
He held a hand up, “It’s ok, I know, I get it. I don’t want to argue, but the fact is, for whatever reason, you’re staying married. I’m just in the way of that.”
She reached for his hand, “Drake, you’re not-“
He interrupted her, “It’s ok, really. I hope you figure it out. Liam is a good guy. Give him a chance, I think you’ll like him. I want you to be happy. I’m sorry that can’t be with me.”
He realized as he closed the door behind him that he hadn’t told her he loved her. He hadn’t given her any hope for the future. He hesitated, turned back toward the door then stopped himself. What was the point? They didn’t have a future together. It was why he was leaving. He grabbed his bag from the floor outside his room and hurried down the hallway, glancing at Liam’s door as he passed. Guilt pinged through him as he made the conscious choice not to say goodbye. He had no idea what to say, so he did what he did best and said nothing at all.
He sighed, “Listen. I have limited time before I’ll be out of pocket for weeks, if not months and I don’t want to waste it, so I’ll get right to the point. I’m a fucking idiot and I’m sorry. You were right. I do understand the political ramifications. I got in my feelings and had a knee jerk reaction. I love you! I’m sorry I ran away like a coward!”
Soft sobs came from the other end of the line.
“Shit! I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry!”
“No, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’m just emotional. It’s been a hell of a day.”
“Yeah. No shit. And that’s on me. I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt before I go out in the field tomorrow. There won’t be any way for me to contact you for a while.”
“For how long?”
“I….don’t know. The mission takes however long the mission takes.”
“I miss you already.”
“I miss you too, baby. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and figured this all out, together!”
“How long did you reenlist for? You never told me.”
“Two years.” He croaked out.
“Two years?”
“Yeah, I know….I’m sorry. I don’t expect you wait around on me though.” She was married after all. By the time his deployment was over, she and Liam would probably be in love with a baby on the way. He closed his eyes against the thought, but he wouldn’t blame her if that’s what happened. It was exactly why he’d left, so they could give their marriage a fighting chance.
He laid awake in the dark with his phone for a long while after they hung up, thoughts of her pouring through his mind. Every memory, every moment, every laugh, every flirtatious remark. The pain twisting in his chest was amplified by the knowledge that his actions had inflicted that same pain on her. But really, what else could he have done?
He had no idea if there was any future for them. He knew there shouldn’t be, but he selfishly hoped for one.
Three months into his tour, that pattern hadn’t changed. She was always at the back of his mind. He lay awake at night staring up at the stars wondering if she was looking up at them too, maybe from their bench in the middle of the hedge maze. He wondered how the honeymoon had gone and if she was carrying the royal heir yet. He wondered if she still thought about him. He wondered if she was still as in love with him as he was with her. He was afraid of the answer.
He was surrounded by people all day, he was never actually alone, but he felt more alone than he ever had in his life. He had thought it would get easier as time went by, but it hadn’t, it had only gotten harder. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going through the motions like he wasn’t broken inside.
Then one day as they made their way back from patrol, a small detachment of soldiers materialized in their campsite.
“What are you doing here, Novack?” Drake asked the other captain.
“Here to take over your command and send you back to basecamp.” The other man replied.
“Why?”
Novack shrugged, “I just follow the orders, Walker, I don’t question them. Now, the Lieutenant and his men are here to make sure you get to the landing zone in one piece.”
“Alright. I’ll go pack my shit.” He threw his stuff into his rucksack as quickly as possible, fear tightening a cord around his heart. There were only so many reasons a solider gets pulled in the middle of a mission and none of them were good.
When he arrived at basecamp, he found that his commanding officer didn’t have much information for him either. “Don’t unpack. You’re on the next flight back to Cordonia.”
“What? Why? I have twenty one months left on my contract!”
“You’ve been transferred to the Cordonian Royal Guard effectively immediately.”
“I didn’t request a transfer.”
“It wasn’t a transfer request, Captain, it was a reassignment.”
“On whose authority?”
“The crown prince.”
Drake was stunned. Liam did not throw his weight around casually or frivolously and he was aware that Drake had made a conscious decision to stay with the regular military as opposed to the royal guard. He had turned down Liam’s offer to join the royal guard several times. “Does this reassignment say why?”
“No. But I guess the prince will explain it to you. Your orders have you reporting directly to him.”
With no further explanation forthcoming, Drake retrieved his cell phone from the duty sergeant and headed for the C-130. He’d be making the flight back in a mostly empty plane. He was headed back to Cordonia with a few injured soldiers, and some broken down jeeps. His cell phone was, of course, dead. He’d have to wait to see Liam in person to find out what was going on.
He was filled with equal parts anger, excitement and dread as he took his seat in the belly of the transport plane. Anger that Liam would transfer him without his input or consent, excitement because he was going to see her again and dread because he had no idea why Liam had transferred him. What if something was wrong? Liam wasn’t a heavy handed person, and he had always respected Drake’s wishes about his career choices. Why was he pulling rank now?
The flight back to Cordonia was filled with trepidation that alternated with unbridled glee. He couldn’t help the images that filtered through his mind, her under the moonlight in the hedge maze, the two of them on the beach at the Forgotten Falls, her legs wrapped around him in the palace swimming pool, his body wrapped around hers late at night after he’d dropped down onto her balcony from above and snuck into her room.
His memories were interspersed with panic that he fought hard to suppress. What if something had happened to her? But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Why would Liam call him home for that? And it wasn’t a summons home, it wasn’t an emergency leave which told him Savannah and his mother were fine. It was a reassignment of duty station, and he had no idea what to make of it.
It was late when he arrived at the palace. He strode through the empty hallways shooting surreptitious glances here and there. He was looking for her. Not that he expected her to be waiting for him. Still, the small trickle of hope that had flowed through him as he boarded the C-130 had become a flood and he felt jittery and anxious as the adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream.
He eyed her bedroom door as he passed it to get to his own. A quick shower and shave later, he was standing at Liam’s bedroom door. Better find out why he had been transferred and what was going on before knocking on the door he was both desperate and a little terrified of knocking on.
“Drake! You made it!” Liam pulled him into a hug.
“Yeah, but I’m really confused about why I’m here.” He turned toward his lifelong best friend with an expectant gaze, “You know I turned down your offer to join the royal guard.”
“I’m aware,” Liam responded drily as he turned to the drink cart and started pouring, “and I am sorry for violating your wishes on this matter, however I have a top secret mission that, for many reasons, I can only entrust to you!”
“Ok….” Drake took the drink Liam held out to him and lowered himself into an overstuffed armchair, “Color me intrigued.”
Drake inhaled the scent of the whiskey deeply before tipping the glass up and letting the fiery warmth fill his mouth and slide down his throat. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. It had been three months since his last drink and Liam always stocked his favorite.
Liam took the chair across from him and studied him carefully over the rim of his own glass. “I understand you and my wife got close in the weeks right after our wedding.”
“Li, I’m sorry!” Drake sat upright in his chair, guilt plunging through him at the change of subject.
Liam waved him off, “It’s fine. I understand. This wasn’t a love match for either of us. I’ve been….preoccupied, it’s understandable that she looked for companionship elsewhere.”
“But still-“
“Really, Drake, it’s ok, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I know you left so that Riley and I could try and make our marriage work, make it real.”
Drake nodded as his eyes focused on the glass in his hand.
“It’s not though.”
“What?” Drake’s head snapped up to find Liam’s eyes.
“Our marriage. It isn’t working.”
“What do you mean?” Drake’s mouth was suddenly dry as panic and hope both surged through him.
“I mean….” Liam paused as he took a sip of the bourbon in his grasp, “I’ve tried spending more time with her, tried building a friendship, a true partnership and that has been successful to some extent.”
“Okay….”
“We rescheduled the honeymoon because she wasn’t, ah,” Liam cleared his throat, “Well, it seemed best to postpone.”
Drake fought against the pure elation that lit up his entire being at that knowledge, “So you haven’t….”
“No.”
But they would. Eventually.
“When is it rescheduled for?” Drake asked carefully.
“Next week.” Liam answered.
“Oh.” His heart plummeted to the bottom of his soul.
“That’s why you’re here.”
Drake detected a note of anxiety in Liam’s tone. His brows drew together in confusion. “I’m here….why?”
“Because my wife has run away and you’re the only person I can trust to bring her back.”
