Page 44 of To Claim A King
She rose from her seat and wrapped dainty arms around my torso, planting a kiss in my hair. “The Viking prince gets the girl, haven’t you heard? He just had to slay a dragon first.”
I clamped large palms around her waist and returned the hug with a gentle squeeze. “Antonio is the biggest dragon I’ve ever known.”
“And once upon a time, Georgio was mine.” I looked up to see a sweet, sad smile trace her lips, the memory of thosedays still haunting shadows for us all. “But once a slayer, always a slayer, Viking. I know you’ll win.”
She turned on her heel to walk down the hallway leading to the main floor guest suite. I followed, my body finally succumbing to the heaviness of pure exhaustion. She brought me extra pillows, a towel, and a packaged toothbrush, and leaned against the doorway with a sardonic grin.
“And you’d better win, Viking, or Cam’s going to kick your ass.”
She left me alone with a strengthened resolve and arenewed sense of purpose. I’d make everything right. With Hillary, with Aaron, and with Lauchlan.
Tomorrow.
“You’re very handsome,mi caballero oscuro.”
My Queen’s voice softly drifted over me as I straightened the Windsor knot at my throat, its familiar grip a protective comfort to baring my neck to the vultures in the next room.
I was dressed in a suit again; a fitted, Vicuna-wool dark gray ensemble. The generous gift from my lover to “bring out my best self” on the day I was to rise from the dead. Indeed, the feel of the soft fabric against my skin and the cut of the cloth against my broad form brought forth a feeling of power and dominance. For but amoment, I was the Rodriguez heir once again, standing at the helm of the battlefield, ready to reclaim my throne on the other side.
My love stood behind me in the small space set aside for prepping news anchors, her reflection adding radiance to an otherwise dull surface. She wore a cream silk power suit jacket and skirt elegantly draped across her slim body, her hair styled in gentle waves against her shoulders. She had several daggers strapped to her body, but no guns. We couldn’t hide the weapon in her clothing, so she would rely on our sets of guards and her wits, should she need to. Like me, she was more comfortable with blades than with bullets. I took as much comfort in her skills as I did in my own.
She stood powerfully by my side in my hour of absolution. I drew from her strength to fill my bones as I drew in her visage to fill my heart.
I offered a small smile as I stared through the mirror and into her soul. “As you are beautiful,Mi Reina.”
Small fingers wrapped around my suit-clad biceps, the light touch of the squeeze barely felt through the quality material. Steel rimmed the roiling blue sea of her eyes, the puffiness absent from the night before. Kellan’s absence was a hollow chasm we would not speak of anymore, repressing the taboo topic under the weight of today’s burdens. Shifting my position, I pulled her body forward and wrapped my arms around her waist. Burying my face in the crook of her shoulder, I breathed in the sweet scent of jasmine and rose.
Rojowas not with us—we’d opted to have him wait in a vehicle on the outskirts of the atrium, with watchful eyes and a police scanner to warn us should we have unwanted visitors. I missed him, knowing he could relieve the somber aura of our energy with a simple quip. It was his greatest gift, one I was starting to cherish.
The sex this week had been to provide an escape for our distraught queen, but I had also found comfort inLauchlan’s embrace, and pleasure from his body against mine. My promise of filling his holes with my seed was a vow I intended to keep, when we finally had time to explore each other properly.
Hillary clasped her hands over mine, delicate skin cradling my rough knuckles, and burrowed into the shell of my body. We stood still in the silent moment, mourning the loss of the man who should have shared it with us.
Mycompañerowas a stubborn, tormented man, choosing to drown in the depths of his misery under the falsehood his sacrifice would save his friends. I did not wish my friend to sink under the heaviness of his misconceptions. I wished for him to remain and join our life raft so we might find safety together.
My wishes were no match for his demons. His decision had harmed us all, even ifMi Reina’s was the most visible pain. I swallowed the discomfort forming in my throat at the resurgence of emotion. I was not angry, as Hillary was, or patiently waiting for a change of heart, asRojowas. Disappointment was my primary sentiment. The man I admired, a man I desired to call my own, had chosen abandonment over risk, under the untrue belief of protection. He did not trust us to protect him as we had entrusted him with our lives. He’d succumbed to his darkest doubts—that he was not worthy of us, a convincing lie.
I longed to shake him as much as hold him, to remove all uncertainty from his mind. He belonged with us. To us. Kellan Carlos could be our active sword, but he was now ours to shield.
A rap on the steel door broke me out of my thoughts. “Ms. Lane, five minutes.”
I slowly unraveled my frame from Hillary’s, sweeping an errant hair from her brow as she drew away from me to grab her phone on the small counter. Her security detail stood as silent as sentries outside of the small room we’d been allotted. Four media channelsawaited our arrival on the stage, all secured through Jediah’s underground network of bandits and thieves, and Weston’s above-ground contacts.
We’d ensured the messaging was cryptic but enticing. Hillary Lane was defending her honor against several allegations, and bringing proof to substantiate her claims. My part had been purposely removed from the narrative until such time my account would be revealed. A shell game of stories.
“I love you,Mi Reina.” I sought to rid the shadows that had taken up her stare, but my love was not enough to barricade the demons completely. A temporary balm was all I could offer.
“I love you, Aaron,” she repeated with a whisper. “We’ve got this.”
Her tremulous smile was rife with nerves, but as soon as she turned to open the door, the nerves faded into grim determination with practiced ease. I too molded my mask into the self-assured shield of a leader without qualms. Today was Alvarez’s final crucifixion, one step forward to putting my parents into the coffins I’d promised them.
Sammy’s team of four mercenaries escorted us through the long hallway down to the atrium floor. I would have advocated for an outdoor venue, but March in the mountains was a poor time to plan such an event. Lauchlan lay in wait, and we had an additional two security teams in plain clothes roaming around the room. It was the best we could acquire when we lived as shadows in the night.
I waited in the wings while Hillary took to the stage. Brilliant white light flooded the wooden platform, but from the darkness of the sidelines I could make out several reporters—at least forty in the crowd, along with a television crew with cameras focused on the podium. The camera crew was an important addition—should Alvarez attempt to assassinate either of us, it would be caught on live television, providing further proof of our story.
A violent hush fell over the small atrium as Hillary took her position at the podium. Her shoulders straightened under the crowd’s attention.
“Hello, Carlisle,” she began, her gaze moving around the room despite the blinding lights. “Thank you for joining me today on such short notice.”
