Page 46 of Royally Arranged

And here it is. Just be honest.“I wouldn’t know,” I whispered.

His laugh came out a bit choked. “What do you ...”

I untangled myself from his grip. Writhing thorns of anxiousness filled me. But somehow my voice was calm. “You’re my first. At everything, actually.”

Thorne’s jaw dropped open. His raw shock was too much; the vines inside me strangled my lungs. He ruffled his hair in dismay. “Then, the night in the cemetery, you were a virgin. And I didn’t even realize. I fucked you without a hint of gentleness. If I’d been better ... if I’d cared more ... I should have noticed. I should have fucking realized!”

He was spiraling, flushed with shame, remembering what we’d done in a tainted light. My hands steadied on his. “Thorne, stop rewriting history. I can see it all over your face.” Pulling myself into his lap, I swung my legs over his thighs. “You’re worried about what you did. Don’t be, okay?” Red heat swam up to my cheeks. “Thanks to you, my first time was better than I ever dreamed it could be.”

I hoped he could sense how earnest I was being. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Of course it matters!”

“Why?” I challenged. “Would you have not slept with me if you knew?”

“I—well, no. I don’t think I could have walked away at that point.”

“Would you have treated me like I was made of glass? Because I’m not some brittle teacup, Thorne. And if you dare to remember our first night together as something awful, I’ll be really pissed off.”

He went quiet. Sitting beside me, looking at the grass between his shoes, he said, “I did wonder. You come off as so confident, this youthful eagerness to do things. At the same time, I glimpsed some of your inexperience. But to imagine that you’d be a virgin ...”

I glared at him, daring him to ruin what I’d just told him not to.

Looking me in the eye, he gripped my chin. “I’m the first man to taste your lips?” My blood raced; I nodded in answer. “Maybe my luck is finally turning around after all.”

Relieved that the tension was resolved, I threw my arms around his neck. My mouth traveled his collarbone, kissing his ink, imagining that the swirls of black tasted like real smoke. When I’d made it from one side of his body to the next, I changed course. Thorne curled a fist in my hair, his tongue wrestling gently with mine.

Just like him, I was happy he was my first.

I also hoped he’d be my last.

- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -

HAWTHORNE

Sipping my coffee, I wandered the long hallways of the castle. I’d been sleeping here for over a week, and the residents still hadn’t warmed up to me, to put it politely.

For example: This morning, when I’d gone to find a cup of something hot in the kitchen, the maids were in the middle of putting away the breakfast spread. They took one look at me and frowned. “Did you want something?” one of them had asked.

I’d eyeballed the plastic-wrapped tray of scrambled eggs that a maid was shoving into the refrigerator. She gave me a wary glance. Before I could say anything, she piped up. “Everything is being put away on schedule—sir.” She added the last part after a long second. “If you had been here this morning at breakfast time ...”

Quickly I threw my hands up, giving a nervous laugh. “I get it, I get it, I’m a terrible person who doesn’t follow the schedule.”

The girls looked at each other, talking with their expressions. I knew they were debating whether or not they could get away without pulling the food out and serving it to me after they’d already done so much work cleaning up the kitchen. I had a feeling that if I pushed them they would do it. After all, whether they liked it or not, I was going to be their new king.

But I’ve never been a bully.

“I’m not hungry,” I’d lied. “But I noticed that there’s still coffee sitting on the counter over there. Would it be all right if I got a cup of that?” The girls deflated, relieved that I hadn’t asked more of them.

Now I sipped my coffee that didn’t have enough sugar or cream in it, but I’d been too eager to get out of the kitchen to ask for them to add more, and kept walking down the hall. As I passed a long section of windows that faced the outside of the house, I saw a row of men wearing the blue-and-red uniform of the royal guard. On their shoulders were small embroidered crowns that I’d missed the first time I’d seen them.

They were doing marching drills, creating stiff patterns as they walked across the gravel. Intrigued, and not knowing what else to do with myself, I walked until I found the door that led to where they were. Standing at a distance, I sipped my coffee and counted the men. They were sixteen of them, all wearing the exact same outfit, the exact same shiny boots, and the exact same rifles strapped to their backs. Each of them kept his hair cropped tight near his ears.

There was someone shouting instructions to them. Looking across the field, I recognized Glen. He was strutting back and forth with his arms folded at his lower back. Every time he yelled, the men would act. I’d never seen anything like this before. It was quite a show.

Suddenly Glen’s eyes fell on me from across the distance. I remembered the conversation I’d overheard him having with my father when we’d first arrived at the castle.

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