Read Online Reign: A Royal Military Romance by Roxie Noir - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roxie Noir
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fox,” Kostya says. “At least in our stories, the clever animals usually come out on top.”
I lean my back against the stone wall as well, trying not to look at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed so casually, in jeans and t-shirt, and it’s... distracting, the way his sleeves hug his biceps, or the way his shoulders are just a touch too wide.
“Do they do it by getting the other animals drunk?” I ask.
“Only sometimes,” he says, and I can feel his eyes slide toward me again.
For a moment, he’s silent, just looking at me. My face heats up and my heart beats faster. Desperately, I think it’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing .
“Did you get your shirt from a church?” he finally asks.
I look down at myself, because I’ve never gotten a shirt from a church and have no idea what he’s talking about.
With my arms crossed, all that’s visible of this dumb shirt is Good girls go to heaven .
“Definitely not,” I say, and uncross my arms.
I use every ounce of my willpower not to shiver and pucker my nipples.
“Aha,” he says, reading Bad girls go everywhere .
Then he looks at me, and something sparkles in his gray eyes. I think it’s a smile. I think .
“Which are you?” he asks.
“The shirt was a gift,” I say, not really answering the question. “My best friend gave it to me before I went on this trip, as sort of a joke, because I was going to a lot of places and I’d just dropped out of school.”
“Was one of the places heaven?” he asks.
“Does the Vatican count?” I ask.
“Not even close,” he says, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“I went to the top of Notre Dame Cathedral,” I say.
“Closer, and beautiful, but not heaven,” he says.
I look away for a moment. My back is to the sea, so we’re looking over the stone work of the castle and the grounds beyond, all dimly lit and silver in the moonlight. I’m just buzzed enough that I can feel the moonlight on my skin, cool and liquid.
“I watched the sun come up on a train in the Alps,” I say.
“Still not heaven,” he says. His voice has gone a little softer and almost growly . Now that we’re alone up here, just the two of us and the night sky, he sounds different. Not quite so harsh.
Fuck it, I think.
Flirt back. He started this.
“Kostya, are you trying to get me to say I’m a bad girl?” I ask.
“I’m just making polite conversation with a palace guest about her shirt,” he says, and I swear there’s just a hint of a smile in his voice. “Though it does seem you’ve been many places, and not one of them was heaven.”
I swallow as warmth snakes through me, tightly coiled and writhing.
I’m acutely aware that I should not be doing any of the things that I’m doing right now: I shouldn’t be in this off-limits area, I shouldn’t be smoking pot, and I shouldn’t be flirting with a future monarch.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve been everywhere .”
“You’ve got time to fix that,” he says. “And I think everywhere is much more interesting than heaven.”
A slight breeze drifts over us and I hug myself tighter as I feel my nipples pucker.
Don’t look , I think. I swallow.
Or do look, fuck, I don’t even know.
Being near Kostya lights something stupid and dangerous inside me, something that wants to throw all caution to the wind and tell him I’m a very bad girl. Something that wants to do something ridiculous, like lean against this wall and lick my lips and invite him to sex-glare at me, nipples at full attention while I bite one finger like some kind of sexpot.
I don’t do any of those things.
“Heaven’s never sounded all that appealing,” I admit. “I think I’d rather be on the goat train from Kiev than spend eternity on a cloud with one of those tiny harps.”
“I believe they’re called lyres ,” he says.
“Show off,” I say, teasing him.
He opens his mouth, closes it, and frowns very slightly. Then the corners twitch a
I lean my back against the stone wall as well, trying not to look at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed so casually, in jeans and t-shirt, and it’s... distracting, the way his sleeves hug his biceps, or the way his shoulders are just a touch too wide.
“Do they do it by getting the other animals drunk?” I ask.
“Only sometimes,” he says, and I can feel his eyes slide toward me again.
For a moment, he’s silent, just looking at me. My face heats up and my heart beats faster. Desperately, I think it’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing .
“Did you get your shirt from a church?” he finally asks.
I look down at myself, because I’ve never gotten a shirt from a church and have no idea what he’s talking about.
With my arms crossed, all that’s visible of this dumb shirt is Good girls go to heaven .
“Definitely not,” I say, and uncross my arms.
I use every ounce of my willpower not to shiver and pucker my nipples.
“Aha,” he says, reading Bad girls go everywhere .
Then he looks at me, and something sparkles in his gray eyes. I think it’s a smile. I think .
“Which are you?” he asks.
“The shirt was a gift,” I say, not really answering the question. “My best friend gave it to me before I went on this trip, as sort of a joke, because I was going to a lot of places and I’d just dropped out of school.”
“Was one of the places heaven?” he asks.
“Does the Vatican count?” I ask.
“Not even close,” he says, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“I went to the top of Notre Dame Cathedral,” I say.
“Closer, and beautiful, but not heaven,” he says.
I look away for a moment. My back is to the sea, so we’re looking over the stone work of the castle and the grounds beyond, all dimly lit and silver in the moonlight. I’m just buzzed enough that I can feel the moonlight on my skin, cool and liquid.
“I watched the sun come up on a train in the Alps,” I say.
“Still not heaven,” he says. His voice has gone a little softer and almost growly . Now that we’re alone up here, just the two of us and the night sky, he sounds different. Not quite so harsh.
Fuck it, I think.
Flirt back. He started this.
“Kostya, are you trying to get me to say I’m a bad girl?” I ask.
“I’m just making polite conversation with a palace guest about her shirt,” he says, and I swear there’s just a hint of a smile in his voice. “Though it does seem you’ve been many places, and not one of them was heaven.”
I swallow as warmth snakes through me, tightly coiled and writhing.
I’m acutely aware that I should not be doing any of the things that I’m doing right now: I shouldn’t be in this off-limits area, I shouldn’t be smoking pot, and I shouldn’t be flirting with a future monarch.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve been everywhere .”
“You’ve got time to fix that,” he says. “And I think everywhere is much more interesting than heaven.”
A slight breeze drifts over us and I hug myself tighter as I feel my nipples pucker.
Don’t look , I think. I swallow.
Or do look, fuck, I don’t even know.
Being near Kostya lights something stupid and dangerous inside me, something that wants to throw all caution to the wind and tell him I’m a very bad girl. Something that wants to do something ridiculous, like lean against this wall and lick my lips and invite him to sex-glare at me, nipples at full attention while I bite one finger like some kind of sexpot.
I don’t do any of those things.
“Heaven’s never sounded all that appealing,” I admit. “I think I’d rather be on the goat train from Kiev than spend eternity on a cloud with one of those tiny harps.”
“I believe they’re called lyres ,” he says.
“Show off,” I say, teasing him.
He opens his mouth, closes it, and frowns very slightly. Then the corners twitch a
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