Page 2 of Filthy Royal

“You look so fuckable right now.” She knew he was purposely distracting her, soothing her, even as he reminded them both to whom she already belonged. “I don’t even have to see you to know you’ve got that slight flush on your gorgeous face, the one you get only from my touch. The one that says you’re mine.”

That was all she wanted. To be seen. Touched. To be his.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ve got this.” There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just one hundred percent pure confidence. Like always. “No one is taking you from me. I’m going to make it through every trial, win this fucking tournament, and make you Scarlett Skolov.”

Hope, painful and jagged, twisted through her, but she clutched onto it all the same.

She’d resisted for as long as she could, but there was something about Damien Skolov.

He’d barreled past all her excuses, making every obstacle appear inconsequential in the face of what flared between them.

It didn’t matter that he was too young for her, or that there were hundreds of other fighters here to win the same fight, or that other warriors were bigger and more experienced, or that the Consortium had already chosen their favorites to win.

Damien Skolov made her believe.

He made her feel alive.

To him, she wasn’t some glittering virginal prize but the wild, reckless creature inside—and he welcomed it, pushing her to be as fierce and fearless and filthy as he.

“Those fuckers might not know you’re mine yet, but you are.” As was so often the case, Damien’s thoughts echoed her own. “In just a short time, I’m going to win this tournament, become the greatest fighter this galaxy’s ever seen, and claim not just that sweet pussy, but your clever brain and brave heart too.”

A small semblance of self-preservation reared its head, cutting through her lust and raw, wild adoration. “But what if—”

Buzz.The vibrations increased.

She bucked, her spine arcing, her mouth opening. The pleasure inside her coiled tighter.

“D-Damien…” His name was a plea.

“You. Are. Mine.” His growl was near feral. “Fuck the Consortium and fuck their favorites. I want Scarlett of the Consortium as my omega, and she wants me. I can’t lose.”

The giddiness inside her chest expanded—along with the pleasure cresting between her thighs.

With him, she didn’t have to pretend to be perfect or polished or serene: a pretty, untouched trophy on display in a crystal case.

With him, she could be craven. Coarse. Carnal.

Dirty.

Her true self.

Her hunger for him was insatiable.

And it wasn’t only her body that recognized him as hers. Her heart called out for him as well.

“When those fuckers tell you it’s time for their little sales pitch on this stage, we both know who you’ll be thinking of. Who you’ll be performing for. We each have our role to play, baby. But we’re a fucking team—and they won’t break us. We’ll have it all very soon.”

“Yes.” She barely moved her lips but she wanted him to hear every word. “Only for you. Every move I make, only for you.”

A growl of primal possession rumbled at her back.

“Meet me again tonight.”

Panic and excitement flooded through her in equal measure.

Did she dare? The more often they met, the greater the risk.

“Damien, I. . . ” She could barely think straight. Her body was so close to the edge. Ready to soar. Ready to—

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