Read Online Asteria In Love with the Prince by Tanya Korval - Free Book Online
Authors: Tanya Korval
Tags: Erotic Romance
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tackle him.” Jagor shook his head. “He was bigger than me; braver, too. They struggled, while I cried like a baby on the floor. The fight started to go our way – one of our bodyguards managed to get in: it was all going to be okay—”
He swallowed, and this time I could see his eyes were glistening. I put my hand on his arm to stop him, but he went on. “But they knew they’d never get out alive without a hostage. So the bastards took him. They dragged Vinko away with them, so my father’s men couldn’t chase them.”
I was shaking now, and I had to wipe my eyes, furious with myself for crying while he was managing to hold it together.
“They could have let him go, but the next morning we found him at the border.” His voice was cold and savage now. “Torn to pieces, like something animals would do. They took his head as a trophy. He was ten.”
I looked at the bodyguards. For a few brief seconds, only one of them was in view, and he was looking the other way. I threw my arms around Jagor’s chest and pulled him tight, and after a second, his massive arms encircled me and pulled me in even tighter. I knew it could only last an instant, so I poured everything I could into that hug, every ounce of love I felt, soaking it into him. Then he was gently pushing me away and we were both trying to look neutral and businesslike.
I hated it, right then – the job, the deception, the secrecy. No one should have to suffer the memories of something like that alone, for the sake of appearances. But as I watched him compose himself, as he stopped being Jagor and became the Prince , it hit me that he’d been standing on his own, his feelings screwed down and silenced, since he was a child. I imagined him standing bravely at his brother’s funeral, while a thousand cameras captured his stoic expression. Today, preparing to take the throne, he was even more alone. Except when he was with me.
It was then that I made up my mind. However crazy this was, however frustrating it was to be around him and yet not with him, I was going to damn well make it work.
***
An hour later, I had my first test. We were eating lunch out on the terrace – the Prince, his aides, two of the bodyguards and Medenko. There were no other diners within five tables of us: the hotel had cleared one entire end of the restaurant.
It was ridiculously perfect. Over the low wall we had uninterrupted views down to the sea, while an awning kept the worst of the sun off us. The seafood was freshly caught, the cutlery was the finest silver and the tablecloth was snowy white. I was in a dream, but it was broken.
If I’d been there as the Prince’s girlfriend, I would have been sitting next to him, our arms brushing every time he reached for something. If I’d been just another member of the retinue, it would have just been a pleasant meal. But I was both…and neither.
Just a few hours earlier, I’d been…I felt my face go hot at the memory. I’d been spread and moaning on his bed. And yet we had to hide it: my love for him had to be squeezed into a tiny box and only allowed out when the door was shut. I was starting to understand why mistresses grew jealous.
Something else stirred inside me, though, alongside the frustration; something I wasn’t ready for. A part of me found the whole thing a turn on. The little glances he gave me across the table. The occasional word he’d drop into the conversation that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, but snapped me right back to the embassy, or the limo. For the entire meal I sat in a heightened state, like an animal with its ears pricked up, and underneath the table I was unconsciously squeezing my thighs together, my arousal slowly turning to wetness as unspoken messages passed between us. God, would every meal be like this? I may have appreciated a mistress’ jealousy, but I also started to understand why people had affairs, beyond the obvious.
I sipped some wine while I brooded.
He swallowed, and this time I could see his eyes were glistening. I put my hand on his arm to stop him, but he went on. “But they knew they’d never get out alive without a hostage. So the bastards took him. They dragged Vinko away with them, so my father’s men couldn’t chase them.”
I was shaking now, and I had to wipe my eyes, furious with myself for crying while he was managing to hold it together.
“They could have let him go, but the next morning we found him at the border.” His voice was cold and savage now. “Torn to pieces, like something animals would do. They took his head as a trophy. He was ten.”
I looked at the bodyguards. For a few brief seconds, only one of them was in view, and he was looking the other way. I threw my arms around Jagor’s chest and pulled him tight, and after a second, his massive arms encircled me and pulled me in even tighter. I knew it could only last an instant, so I poured everything I could into that hug, every ounce of love I felt, soaking it into him. Then he was gently pushing me away and we were both trying to look neutral and businesslike.
I hated it, right then – the job, the deception, the secrecy. No one should have to suffer the memories of something like that alone, for the sake of appearances. But as I watched him compose himself, as he stopped being Jagor and became the Prince , it hit me that he’d been standing on his own, his feelings screwed down and silenced, since he was a child. I imagined him standing bravely at his brother’s funeral, while a thousand cameras captured his stoic expression. Today, preparing to take the throne, he was even more alone. Except when he was with me.
It was then that I made up my mind. However crazy this was, however frustrating it was to be around him and yet not with him, I was going to damn well make it work.
***
An hour later, I had my first test. We were eating lunch out on the terrace – the Prince, his aides, two of the bodyguards and Medenko. There were no other diners within five tables of us: the hotel had cleared one entire end of the restaurant.
It was ridiculously perfect. Over the low wall we had uninterrupted views down to the sea, while an awning kept the worst of the sun off us. The seafood was freshly caught, the cutlery was the finest silver and the tablecloth was snowy white. I was in a dream, but it was broken.
If I’d been there as the Prince’s girlfriend, I would have been sitting next to him, our arms brushing every time he reached for something. If I’d been just another member of the retinue, it would have just been a pleasant meal. But I was both…and neither.
Just a few hours earlier, I’d been…I felt my face go hot at the memory. I’d been spread and moaning on his bed. And yet we had to hide it: my love for him had to be squeezed into a tiny box and only allowed out when the door was shut. I was starting to understand why mistresses grew jealous.
Something else stirred inside me, though, alongside the frustration; something I wasn’t ready for. A part of me found the whole thing a turn on. The little glances he gave me across the table. The occasional word he’d drop into the conversation that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, but snapped me right back to the embassy, or the limo. For the entire meal I sat in a heightened state, like an animal with its ears pricked up, and underneath the table I was unconsciously squeezing my thighs together, my arousal slowly turning to wetness as unspoken messages passed between us. God, would every meal be like this? I may have appreciated a mistress’ jealousy, but I also started to understand why people had affairs, beyond the obvious.
I sipped some wine while I brooded.
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