A Royal Heartbreak (12 page)

“Of course he’s your prince,” he teased. “If the rumors are true, you worship him so much that everyone in the entire realm heard you screaming his name.”

Misty choked. “Lysander!”

It was the first time she had called him by his name, and the pleasure it caused disturbed him. She was beginning to matter to him too much, and that wasn’t something he had counted on. It was not a good thing.

Misty was gnawing on her lip. “What else did people say?”

Lysander’s lips tightened. Was he supposed to tell her that the women who did hear her screaming had all thought Domenico Moretti was so good in bed to make her sound delirious with pleasure? He did not want to think about that, not when he wanted to be the one to make Misty’s body go soft and tight with pleasure, to see her pussy filled to bursting with his come.

His cock strained against his pants at the thought.

“Lysander?”

He answered slowly, “I don’t think you want to know.”

“I want to!” Did they think she was a slut? Did they---

“They were talking how your prince was such a stud because after what happened, they saw him taking Ivory to dinner next.”

She involuntarily took a step back.
That
was not what she had expected to hear at all.

Lysander’s conscience stirred at the way Misty had paled at his words, but he did not retract them. It was not his fault if women made fool of themselves – even if the woman was as kind as Misty.

“Stop looking so glum, Misty.”

She mustered a smile. “I’m not.” But her heart was heavy. Could it be true? After what had happened between them, could Domenico take another woman to his bed?

“Tell you what, why don’t we have a picnic and forget about all our problems and responsibilities for now?”

Misty hesitated. There were still terms of the agreement that they hadn’t yet ironed out, and the longer that took, the more danger they were in. Many of the other races would not be willing to offer the Faeries a helping hand without the Alliance agreement formally signed.

Lysander sighed. “Misty, stop being a martyr. It’s just one day – surely you deserve that much?”

She flinched at the term he used. A
martyr.
Had she been done that all the time? Could it be the reason why Domenico never thought her fit to be his true mate?

Squaring her shoulders, she smiled brightly at Lysander. “Okay, picnic that is. Let’s walk to my home first so I can grab some stuff and then we can go.”

While waiting outside Misty’s cottage, Lysander caught sight of Sir Belmont walking up the lane. Snapping his fan open for the sole purpose of antagonizing the old man, he called out in his soft languid drawl, “Sir Belmont, what a pleasant surprise!”

“Seeing you is a surprise but it is not pleasant,” the old man grumbled. “And stop with that fan. We all know you are as homosexual as I am.”

He snapped the fan closed, grim-faced. If Misty had heard what the old man said, he would not be accountable for his actions. “What’s your angle, old man? Why are you being so nice to her?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, Lysander Allard?” The old man gave him the evil eye. “It’s a disgrace, how you turned out.”

He scowled. “You just said you didn’t think I’m gay.”

Sir Belmont threw him a disgusted glance. “I wasn’t talking about that, you stupid boy. I’m talking about you – as a person. The Allards were once the gentlest of the noble families, the one with the heart of courage and generosity. It is a pity that as the last of your line you have become completely cold.”

“How can you say that,” Lysander hissed, “when I’m willing to give up my own life for our race?”

The old man remained unimpressed. “If that is all you can say for yourself then---”

The front door flew open, Misty coming out in a shirt and jumper, looking like a fresh-faced high school student with her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She brightened when she saw Sir Belmont. “Welcome back, Sir Belly.”

Lysander’s jaw dropped, momentarily forgetting his anger upon hearing what Misty called the other man. Even though he was known nowadays as their race’s own Grinch, everyone was also well aware that he had been one of the greatest swordsmen of his time.

Sir “Belly” ignored his slack-jawed look, his face creasing with a rare smile as he gave Misty a bag of fruits. “Ripe for eating,” he told her warmly.

Misty grinned. “Thank you! Let’s have tea sometime this week?”

“If you can spare this poor old man some time.”

Lysander wanted to choke. Was the old man
flirting
with Misty now?

Misty said earnestly, “Of course I’ll always have time for you.”

Yuck
was the word that came to mind as he watched Sir Belmont bask in Misty’s attention. Clearing his throat loudly, Lysander asked, “Shall we go?”

She gave her friend a regretful smile. “Catch up with you soon?”

Sir Belmont nodded. “You have fun wherever you’re going!”

“We’re just going on a picnic,” she explained quickly. “Do you want to---”

“The old man needs some rest, my pretty,” Lysander said just as quickly, knowing his plans would go nowhere if the other man was around.

Misty’s face fell. “Oh. Sorry about that. Maybe next time then.” As she turned away, Lysander caught sight of Sir Belmont giving him a dirty look. He was about to mouth “Fuck off” to the older man when Misty turned to him.

He gave her his most angelic smile. “Ready for our picnic?”

Lysander took her to one of his favorite places in the realm. Deep within the forests, hidden at the end of a brook was a cave he had discovered when he was a young boy. And after the Great War, it had served as his sanctuary---the only place he could be himself.

He had never brought anyone to his sanctuary until Misty, but he decided not to tell her that.

“This is great!” Misty had to shout her words because the roar of the nearby waterfalls would have otherwise drowned out her voice. Caves in the human worlds usually sparkled with stalactites and stalagmites but here in the realm of Faeries, the caves glowed with flowers that seemed to thrive in darkness, their petals shining bright in a rainbow of colors.

She shook her head in amazement. “Glow in the dark flowers. Did your ancestors create them, too?”

He shook his head. “I think you misunderstand how our realm works. Although we had sacrificed blood for this realm, none of it would have happened if not for Nature. It’s from her all our powers come from.”

In a very casual move, Lysander lowered himself to the ground and laid his head on her lap. Then he ordered her, “Comb my hair please!”

It was exactly the right thing to say, making Misty laugh, the tinkling sound making his cock jerk inside his pants. He ignored it again even though lately he had been having cold showers every night – the only thing that kept him from trying to seduce Misty in her own home.

She hand-combed his hair, exclaiming wonder at how soft it was. “I’m the one who should be envious of your hair! It’s so soft and shiny!”

He tried not to grimace at how very gay that sounded. One day, Lysander would have the chance to make Misty realize just how much of a man he was. But until that day came, he simply had to grit his teeth and bear all her assumptions – assumptions that he had personally nurtured.

They laughed and talked for hours, swimming after and then eating lunch back in the cave. Replete, he laid back, head again nestled in her lap, delighted at having the best vantage view of Misty’s breasts above him.

“Did you have fun, my pretty?”

She nodded.

“It would be nice to have this much fun every day, don’t you think?”

“It would be nice
and
surreal.” The old Misty would never have said something like that, but life had taught her certain hard truths.

“But it could happen, you know?” Lysander heard the snapping of twigs before Misty did. It made him panic, knowing that just the sight of Domenico could make Misty forget all about him. His voice was a little uneven when he heard himself ask, “What do you think about marrying me?”

She stared at him in openmouthed shock. “But y-you’re
gay
.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t need a companion.”

When Lysander reached for her hand and linked his fingers with his, Misty realized just how strong he was, more like Milo than Daryl. She looked down at him, and his too-beautiful face was devoid of expression except for the fierce light in his lilac-colored eyes.

His voice was soft and beguiling as he whispered, “It would be a life you’d never be hurt, never have to wonder if your partner is cheating on you or using you for your own ends.” The sound of snapping twigs was stronger now. He knew Domenico could have come to them without being heard, but that he was deliberately letting Lysander know he was coming in advance told him that the Moretti prince was reluctant to catch them unawares.

Because he was afraid of what he would see them doing?

Misty pulled her hand away from his. “That’s not a good joke,” she said shakily.

He reached up to thread his fingers through her hair. “It wasn’t one.” This time, he heard leaves rustling, the slice of claws in the air as if Domenico had momentarily shifted, creating tension in the air.

And then the tension was gone, and Lysander his time with Misty was about to end. He smiled up at Misty, asking in a teasing voice, “Do you think your prince will get mad once he finds out about this?”

She smiled back at him uncertainly, protesting more out of habit this time. “He’s not my prince.”

A voice that was not Lysander’s answered quietly, “Is that so?”

Domenico Moretti stood at the entrance of the cave, dressed in just a plain round-collared shirt and jeans, and yet – he had never seemed so beautiful and powerful in Misty’s eyes. Not a flicker of expression betrayed his true feelings, his handsome face unreadable, but even so Misty sensed the pain that her careless words her caused.

Lysander moved away from her and she scrambled to her feet, knowing all the while she was making it worse by acting like she had something to be guilty about. “Domenico, I---”

“I’m sorry to intrude on your…date.” His voice became flat as he said the last word.

Before she could answer, Lysander was chuckling, ruffling her hair as he said, “It wasn’t a romantic date, Your Highness.” His voice was perfectly bland, but somehow that only made him sound glib instead of honest.

But Domenico wasn’t looking at him. He only had eyes for Misty. That was supposed to make her feel good, but it didn’t. It felt wrong. “A missive from Aurelius arrived. A few pack leaders would like to meet with you today. Do you think it would be possible for you to leave?”

A part of her knew that she shouldn’t be leaving with Domenico, shouldn’t allow herself to be alone with him because it would change things between them forever. But another part of her remembered the flatness of his voice as he spoke to her, the dull look in his green eyes as he saw her with another man’s head on her lap---

She blurted out, “Yes.” She watched Domenico exhale after that, and she realized that he had been tensely waiting for her answer, as if expecting Misty to reject him. That did not feel right either.

Domenico was an Alpha, the heir to the Moretti pack, a legendary prince among his kind – it just didn’t feel right that someone like her would be causing someone like him so much pain.

But…
this was what she had wanted, didn’t she?

“Misty?” Domenico was offering his hand.

She glanced at Lysander behind her shoulders. “Next time again?” she asked hesitantly.

The smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. It puzzled her, but right now Misty didn’t have time to think about it longer. “Go on, have fun.”

Turning back to Domenico, she took his hand and he immediately clasped it tightly between his fingers, pulling her to his side. And then he was kissing her without any warning, his lips demanding and conquering as it covered hers, his tongue slipping in as if to immediately reclaim what he considered his.