Page 53 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

I turn and wink at them. “Pussies.”

I jump into the refreshing water with a splash. One after the other, they pile in after me.

“My sister in white. Whodathunk?”

I turn from the oval mirror, and my wedding dress flutters around me. My brother sits behind me. His tall, stick-thin body has been fitted into a handsome tuxedo suit. There’s a white flower pinned to the arm of his wheelchair. He looks great.

I beam and lift the hem of my dress in a faux curtsy. “What do you think? Too much?”

“Definitely.” He nods, his messy ginger hair flopping around his ears. “But it’s your wedding day. You’re allowed to be too much. Speaking of.”

He nods to my hand.

“What, this?” I ask innocently. I show off my hand. Two matching engagement rings are stacked together on my ring finger. One diamond for each of my fiancés. I’m the luckiest girl alive.

“That,” Oscar shakes his head. “They spoil you.”

We’re in a room that I’ve decided is my bedroom, though it looks nothing like my old room at my parents’ place. But my dream logic takes over. White, wooden-paneled walls line the space, and a window nook fills the place with bright light.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Oscar asks. He has my sea-green eyes, always questioning.

“Yes,” I tell him. “No more running. No more hiding. This is the life I want.”

“I’m just glad I get to walk you down the aisle,” Oscar says and then half shrugs. “Well. Roll.”

I laugh and take his hand in mine, linking our fingers. He’s so real, my brother. “Me too,” I whisper. I squeeze his hand in mine when—

I hear a sick, gut-wrenching crunch.

Two of his fingers have popped out of place and twist at a jarring angle over my hand. I gasp and pull away to help him, but his whole arm comes with me.

The doll arm hangs limply from my hand. Oscar blinks at his empty sleeve, unfazed. “Oh,” he says simply. “That’s a bad look.”

I open my mouth to scream out for help—someone help him, please—but no sound comes out. My throat closes and my voice only comes out in small, scratchy squeezes.

Help! Save my brother! Please!

27

Ben

Rory thrashes in her sleep.

Her head swivels back and forth on the pillow. Her eyebrows knit in pain, her mouth open, and she emits squeaks and whimpers.

I reach through the blue darkness and take her small shoulder in mine. “Rory,” I murmur. “Wake up.”

Her whole body shivers. She’s panting like she’s run a marathon.

Roland, on the other side of the king-size bed, sleeps like a log. Of course. A bloody dragon couldn’t wake sleeping beauty.

“Rory,” I repeat and shake her now. “Open your eyes, love.”

Her eyes fly open suddenly at my command. The whites of her eyes swim as her gaze flickers around. Panic. I squeeze her shoulder again, gently this time.

“It’s all right,” I tell her. “It’s just a dream.”

She sits up and splutters for breath. Her lungs sound hoarse. “I need…” she croaks.

---