Royally Not Ready(36)

Ooo, so hot.

Does he realize that’s more of a turn-on than a turn off?

Mr. Tattooed Man Meat wants to own me? Where’s the marriage license? I’ll sign right now.

I wet my lips. “You fail to recognize how much that appeals to me . . .” And just because I feel the dominant in him come out, I add, “Sir.”

His eyes narrow on me. His jaw clenches. And boy oh boy does he make the most delicious growly noise I’ve ever heard. “Don’t, Lilly.”

“Oh, do you prefer master?”

His hand strikes the stone next to me, his palm pressing against the hard surface, startling me, but also turning me on at the same time. “Don’t fucking test me.”

I swallow hard as I curl into the feel of him so close, his warm, heated body nearly pressing against mine. I love the controlled anger in his voice, but the yearning I see in his eyes? I knew it. I knew he was into the kind of kink I am. I could see it the minute I mentioned the sex club yesterday. This just makes him exponentially more appealing.

“Not testing you,” I say. “Just letting you know my concerns.”

He leans in even closer, his forehead nearly touching mine as he says, “If you’re that concerned, then I’ll have Lara sit in on our training.”

I love Lara, but I don’t want that. I like being alone with him.

Hand to my chest, I bat my eyelashes at him and say, “Are you telling me, by being alone with you, you won’t be stealing my virtue?”

He pushes off the stone wall and goes back to his pushups. After the second one, he says, “Trust me, Lilly. If I were stealing your virtue, you would fucking know I was.”





“Okay, so the king is briefed every morning on the current events. Got that. Makes sense.” I lean against the console table and ask, “But what about the note?”

Keller, who’s now showered, smelling like a freaking dream—there are no fermented cod cakes in his pockets—grips the unruly hair on the top of his head. “What note?” he asks in frustration.

We’ve spent the last two hours going over regimens, accountability, and political protocol. I started to fall asleep during the political protocol talk only for him to slap the table with his bear-like hand and startle the shit out of me.

“You know, the note.”

“Does it look like I know what you’re talking about?” he asks, arms wide, his voice oozing with irritation. We’ve had a day, can you tell?

“Ugh, Keller, the note from Lady Whistledown, where she tells you all the gossip of the inner circles. You know, the good stuff.”

His brow creases, and then I watch as he slowly processes what I’m saying. I half expect him to yell at me, to roll his eyes, to slap the table again with that burly man-paw of his, but he doesn’t.

There’s a shift in his expression, almost . . . an understanding. Like we just fell in cahoots together. “Oh, the note.”

Wait . . . what? There is a note?

“That comes in the morning, with the other news.”

“Wait, seriously?”

He drags his hand over his mouth. “It’s called the Informative, though.”

Here I was just joking, and this is actually something that happens? A gossip that calls the shots? Now we’re talking.

“What kind of stuff is in it? Did you get it today?”

“That’s classified information, and until King Theo gives me the go-ahead, you’re not privy yet.”

“Can you give me a hint as to what’s in it?” I zip my lips and throw away the proverbial key. “My lips are sealed. You can trust me.”

“No,” he answers.

“But, Keller, I could really be a vital help—”

“I said . . . no.”

“Well, you’re a freaking wet blanket.”

“Glad you see it that way. Now, let’s go over the lineage of your ancestors.”

I slouch in my chair. “Sounds riveting.”





“Are you paying attention?” Keller snaps.

My eyes shoot up from where I was staring at a precarious hole in a stone. “Uh, yes,” I answer, even though I have no idea what we’re talking about. Day four in this hellhole of a training room and I think I’m on the verge of losing it.

“What was I saying?”

How did I know he was going to ask that?

“Well, let’s see. You like to hear yourself talk, so it’s hard to remember where you were at—”

Smack.

His hand wallops the poor table, which has taken a beating every day with his frustration. He stands from his chair, pushing it out so fast that it tips over and crashes to the ground.

“Jesus, Lilly. That’s the third time today.”

Fourth, technically, but the second time I was able to pull an answer out of my ass. I even impressed myself with my quick flexibility in lying.

“I’d say I was sorry, but I think I need to be honest with you at this point. You’re boring me.”

“I’m not here to entertain.”

“That’s obvious from the number of times I’ve had to pin my eyes open.”

He gestures wide as he says, “This is your history, you need to know it.”