Page 4 of Royally Drawn

I heard a shriek. My half-sister Betty threw her arms around me. Given she was young and impressionable, I hoped she would stay home. Now, I’d have to watch her like a hawk while behaving myself.

“You’re not old enough to be here.”

“I am,” Betty said.

“You’re drunk,” I noted.

She shrugged, then giggled and ran off.

“This weekend is going to be a mess,” Leah said. “We have so many loose cannons and amateurs.”

The blonde turned our way. Damn, she was beautiful! I’d be dumbnotto pursue her. She was fresh meat—it was a bonus we werenotrelated. Besides, she had one hell of a smackable little ass and a fabulous pair of tits. I hoped to see more of her.

Overboard

INGRID

Refilling my drink at the bar, I ran intoanotherhandsome prince. The Lyons boys wereeverywhere. It rained tall, gorgeous men for the British royals—starting with Queen Natalie’s only child, Prince Duncan. Then, there were the four sons of her late brother, Paul—Princes Keir, Nate, Edwin, and Oliver. I’d met all the younger three but never Prince Keir, the British spare.

“You’re the new girl.”

“New girl?” I asked. “As opposed to the old girl? I think the oldest person here is like thirty-five.”

“I just meant new-to-us.”

I rolled my eyes. “New toyoulot. Not new to Cici and the Norwegians.”

“You joined the Scandinavian cult.”

“You were one foot in, one foot out last I heard.”

All I knew about Keir was that he and his brothers had spent time in Norway from a young age. Their mother was half-Norwegian, half-American.

“It’s complicated.”

The Brits and Norwegians had intermarried like vines growingtogether. Keir’s Aunt Kiersten, Cecilia’s mother, left the UK to marry the now-King Olav. After Keir’s father died of cancer in his early thirties, his mother remarried the Norwegian spare, and the whole family moved to Norway. It was an interesting multicultural, somewhat incestuous mishmash of what you’d expect from royals.

He took a long swig of his beer. “Everything is. At least with all of us.”

I didn’t have a pithy response. I was too focused on his jawline and tryingnotto stare at his bare chest. It was neither completely hairless nor too hairy. I hated to admit I did find chest hair somewhat sexy. I much preferred hyper-masculine men to those who were a little sweeter. A strong brow and chin that could cut glass drew me like a moth to a flame.

“Even you? It cannot be so complicated for someone like you,” Keir said.

“Uh? Someone like me? Why’s that?”

“Last I heard, you’re beautiful, charming, and talented. Also, you’re the youngest, which is the best one to be, right?”

I blushed, looking for a witty comeback. I cracked jokes for fun. However, as his green eyes fixed on me, I struggled to make a sound. What was happening? And was he flirting with me? That seemed impossible.

“I… I suppose,” I answered. “I mean, being the youngest. It’s… fine.”

I awkwardly leaned forward in the small bar area, reaching into the tiny beer fridge. There wasnoway he wasn’t staring at my ass. As I came back up, I realised he wasn’t even trying to avoid me catching him.

“Take a picture. It will last longer,” I said, annoyed.

“Oh, she’s fiery!”

He grabbed a beer from a box under the bar and stepped forward to restock the fridge before closing the door. At least he was thoughtful. We stood there, face-to-face, too close. I could feel his eyes on me, even though I looked down at his sandal-clad feet. They dwarfed my bare feet and tiny toes.

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