Page 37 of Regal Queen

His hand came down, his fingers clasping my chin to tug my face up towards his. Deep, troubled eyes met mine, and my throat bobbed at the intensity of his gaze.

“I see, Rose. You drink all the time. You can’t let go of that coat. You whimper in your sleep like you’re having nightmares. You think I don’t see you, but I do.”

My lower lip trembled, quivering with the rush of emotion inside me, and yet, I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let him in.

I thought I could. Out there on the balcony? I thought I could be a King and take what I wanted but who was I kidding?

I lived in a world where a man with no conscience put a gun to a woman’s head and blasted her brains out. How could I compete with that kind of heartlessness? This world was going to swallow me alive.

I wasn’t a king or a queen but a peasant meant to beg at the feet of her master, hoping for a scrap of hope or freedom or warmth.

Bourbon didn’t say anything else, instead, he crawled into bed with me. His warm arms surrounded me, and I gave in, needing his comfort, even if I fought against it. I leaned into him, tears steaming down my face.

He made a low noise in his throat. “Never again, Rose. I will never let that happen to you.”

I shook my head, unwilling to speak because I didn’t want him to hear the emotions in my voice, afraid I would start bawling. Telling him anything was even worse than taking the water he’d offered me.

“You understand me?” He pulled back, his fingers grasping my chin, his eyes blazing with anger and passion. “Never fucking again.”

I shook my head, my voice wobbling. “What if you can’t Bourbon?”

His eyes darkened. “What?”

“What if you can’t protect me? It’s not enough.” I wasn’t talking about my safety. I was talking about my fucking heart. I was already lost to this man, the man who was made of steel and ice, the man who built walls so high and thick that I would never break through.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice was a deep rumble of a storm, of barely restrained anger. “What isn’t enough?”

I pulled back, pulling my chin out from his touch and a glint of hurt flashed in his gaze. “You, Bourbon. I will never be a person to you. I’m just some stupid prize, whether a Lily look-a-like, or some damn Russian mafia princess who lost her kingdom, I am just a game to you, and I can’t be that anymore.”

“You’re not,” he growled.

I nodded. “I am, and you know it. Don’t lie to me, and especially don’t lie to yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s not enough,” I repeated myself, not knowing how else to explain how I was feeling. I needed more, and I wasn’t going to get it from him.

I looked away from his penetrating and angry gaze to stare beyond at the city beyond. The dark of the night was beginning to bleed into day, the city was waking up and yet, all I could think of was that I wished this day would finally end.

I needed sleep.

When he didn’t say anything else, I grabbed the bottled water Bourbon had placed on my lap. Facing the wrath on his face, I uncapped the lid and took down several swallows, staring into his eyes as I did it. His eyes lingered over my face, my lips, the bottle, my fingers clutching it.

Finally, when I was done, I screwed back the lid and passed it over to him. “Thank you.”

He took it, his fingers brushing softly over mine for a brief moment before he turned to place it on the nightstand. Then he adjusted the blanket, moving it around both Coulter and me.

“Are you leaving?” I was suddenly afraid he was going to leave me and never return.

“Scoot down, Rose.”

I gave him a stubborn look, intending to stay right where I was until he gave me an answer. Until he confronted the fact that once again, he was going to build up his walls, to shut me out, to walk away and leave me with Coulter, a man that I loved but wasn’t in love with.

“Rose,” his voice took on that deep, smoky quality. It was the kind of voice that made my toes curl and a shiver skate up my spine. The kind of voice that promised lovemaking by the ocean on sheets made of the finest silk and intimate conversation afterwards.

That voice, that damn voice promising me the exactly what I wanted, making my heart soar and my insides melt, had me sliding down under the covers, adjusting Coulter's sleeping form so that he was on the other side of me.

When I was settled, I turned to him, needing an answer. “Answer me, are you leaving?”

He leaned over, once again capturing my chin to stare into my eyes. “I’m never leaving you, Rose.”

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