Page 23 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

That burden sat like a stone in her gut. Suddenly her lofty ideals about love felt very naive and unattainable. Even if she did hold out for someone more compatible, how likely was it that there’d be the kind of passion she’d always dreamed of? The kind of passion she’d read about in the romance novels she’d hidden between the covers of the classics she’d speed-read in her English classes. The kind of passion that people said was unrealistic but she knew existed, deep in her bones, because she’d seen it. Smelled it. Ached for it.

This man looking at her now had awoken something inside her. A thirst. A hunger. That first face-to-face meeting with him had sparked such a visceral reaction that when he’d told her that one day he would be her brother-in-law she’d felt sick at the thought. Because how could this man who made her feel so many things, possibly ever be her brother? The idea had been horrifying...and so wrong.

Because she wanted him. She’d always wanted him.

Sitting at the table, Laia felt dizzy all of a sudden, as that revelation sank deep into her body, making her go hot and cold and hot again.

Dax was frowning now. ‘Laia...?’

She stood up and swayed slightly, suddenly very aware that she’d reached her limit and gone past it.

Dax cursed and stood too. ‘You’ve drunk too much.’

Laia wanted to laugh, but she was afraid she might be sick, because things were spinning a little.

She put a hand to her head. ‘Maybe I should lie down for a minute.’

Dax came around the table. Before Laia knew what was happening he’d lifted her effortlessly into his arms and was carrying her through the villa.

This was worse. Far worse. Because now she was pressed against all that muscle and sinew. His scent was all around her and infiltrating her blood, making it warm. Her dress was no barrier to his heat and the steely strength of his body. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her face was so close to his neck. If she moved her head forward even just a tiny bit she could press her lips against his skin.

They were at her bedroom door. Laia blinked. Had she really drunk that much? Dax put her down, and thankfully she didn’t sway again. The spinning sensation had calmed down.

His voice was tight. ‘Do you have the key to your room?’

Laia nodded. ‘You’ll have to turn around so you don’t know where it’s kept.’

Dax’s jaw clenched, but he turned around. His shoulders looked so broad, and he was so tall. The fuzziness from the alcohol was starting to wear off and she realised she was staring at Dax’s back like a lovestruck groupie.

She turned quickly and took the key from its hiding spot and opened her door, slipping inside.

Dax turned around. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

Laia nodded, but her head swam a bit again so she stopped. ‘Fine. Thank you for dinner. It was really good.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Goodnight, Dax.’

She was closing the door when he put a hand on it.

‘I’d feel a lot better if you left your door open tonight.’

Laia had all her devices—phone and laptop—locked away in a safe. So there was no real reason to lock her door.

She stood back and held the door open. ‘Okay, fine.’

After a long few seconds Dax backed away. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

He turned and left and Laia felt very discombobulated. Who was the captor here and who was the captee?

The effects of the alcohol seemed to be fading as quickly as they’d surfaced. Maybe it hadn’t been the alcohol at all, but the massive and unwelcome revelation that she really didn’t want to look at.

So she didn’t.

She changed into her night shorts and tank top and washed her face, and then climbed into bed. The room revolved alarmingly for a moment, but mercifully stopped after a few seconds. And then she fell asleep.

A little later, Dax stopped by Laia’s open bedroom door. The muslin net around her bed was still tied up, so she wasn’t being protected from biting insects.

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