Page 3 of His Hidden Royal Heirs

Her week of freedom had been hard-won to say the least. It hadn’t just been escaping the palace and Lille—she’d spent most of her adolescence perfecting those things. It had been about getting outandflying under the radar for a week.

Luckily her twin sister, Beaugonia, was an expert at so many things, she’d helped. Procured the colored contacts Zia now wore, the dye she’d used in her hair once she’d been free of the palace. Beau had even done the honors and chopped off Zia’s hair.

It was Beau’s expertise at computers that had gotten Zia fake identification, a flight to Portugal, and a hotel first in Lisbon, then the past few days in Faro.

Zia had left a note for her parents and a promise to return, and Zia knew that and Beau’s efforts to smooth over their parents’ anger would be the only reasons they wouldn’t send armed guards after her.

Not that they hadn’t tried, no doubt, but more on the down-low. They would go harder once her week was up. Tomorrow, bright and early, she had to be on a plane back to Lille or things would...implode, no doubt.

So this was it. She hadn’t been about to throw herself at justanyman for the sake of it. Her fun had included being a normal human, walking about without guards. Sleeping, eating, drinking and doing whatever she fancied, rather than follow royal protocol and a schedule someone else had made for her.

It had been like breathing for the first time. She had lived for herself. While she was still worried about Beau at home alone with their parents, she hadn’t had to think of how to protect her with every step. For the first time in her life, a weight she’d grown so accustomed to she had stopped noticing it had lifted.

And now it was all over. Back to the palace. Back to the responsibilities she did not want but had to face. For Beau.

Except it wasn’t over just yet. She still had tonight.

Walking into that bar and meeting the gaze ofthisman had made it very easy to determine that a wildly handsome stranger, and maybe even a night with him, would be the cherry on top of her last night of freedom.

She had lied to him about some things, but not about freedom and this being her last day of it. Tomorrow she’d return to Lille, her role as Princess Zia Asta Alberte Elisabeth Rendall and the responsibilities waiting for her.

Like a royal wedding in the spring. Crown Prince Lyon Traverso was handsome enough, and notmean, by any stretch. But he was aloof, at best. And had plans for his kingdom that he wanted no help with. She would have no say as his wife. Her role would essentially be to pop out princes and princesses until the kingdom was satisfied.

She had no desire to be a broodmare for anyone, let alone a virtual stranger, but it had certainly not been her choice, this political merger her father had planned and inked out. Heir or no, she had no say in her father’s choices. She was promised to Lyon.

She could have refused, she supposed, but her parents had made it clear if she did not meet her responsibilities, everyone would pay the price. Mostly her twin, who was...eccentric.

At least, that’s what the palace called it.

This week was the closest thing she was ever going to have to making her own choices, and as much as she hated that, she hated the idea of Beau suffering the slings and arrows of their father more.

Zia didn’t want to think about any of it tonight. She wanted to feel freedom in this last night of it. She wanted to drink, to dance.

She wanted the stranger she’d picked up at a bar. Sinfully handsome, too charming for anyone’s good. He was impossibly tall, with broad shoulders to match. Dark hair cropped short, dark eyes, wearing all black like some kind of evil spirit. His smile was sin itself. He was no doubt the type to love and leave.

So, perfect. Maybe an evil spirit, but one who would be a lot of fun before she had to spend the rest of her life metaphorically chained to a monarchy and a man she didn’t care about in the least.

But she cared about her sister, and—

She wasn’t thinking about that tonight. She was thinking about the man dancing with her. His body was a hard wall of heat. His hand on her back felt like a brand, but it was nothing to the way they moved together. Like two interlocking parts.

While lights flashed and music thrummed around them, it felt like they were the only two people in existence. Which was a freedom even greater and more exhilarating than the one she’d found on her own. Because she was still a princess when it was just her. When she was withhim,she was a nameless woman. Nothing about her title mattered. Nothing about her country or the expectations laid upon her or who she needed to protect. She could just be whoever she was underneath that.

She’d begun to be afraid there was nothing. But this man laughed when she told a joke. He listened when she explained what she liked about Portugal. There was a give-and-take to their conversation, to their dancing. Not justcontrol.

In fact, it seemed as if there was no control between either of them at all. Everything that existed here was elemental. Nothing but chemistry and heat and want.

His hand skimmed down her spine, inciting a jolt of desire, a deep, dark craving swirling around inside her, and an arrow of heat straight to her core. She pressed herself even more firmlyto him, and his leg skimmed between hers, making the faintest contact with her bare inner thigh.

Her breath came out in a huff she should have done a better job of hiding. Especially when his chuckle was low and rumbled along her exposed neck. She suddenly understood those over-the-top vampire romances her sister loved to read. She’d do anything to feel his mouth on her neck, no matter how reckless or ill-advised.

So she followed all that reckless down the rabbit hole and lifted to her toes to press her mouth to his, here in this crowded club, where she was no one, except a woman who wanted him.

He tasted like danger. It shot through her bloodstream. Stronger than any drink she’d had tonight. Heat and need and the whirling, sparkling joy of doing whatever the hell she wanted.

Royal protocol be damned.Finally.

“I have a hotel suite not far from here.” His voice was a rasp in her ear. “And a car to get us there.”

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