Page 39

Ah.

Spiked with bourbon.

Danner knows his stuff.

She gives me a suspicious look, lips pressed into a tense line. “Make yourself comfortable.”

The suspicion, I get. I haven’t made her bend over and assume the position. I haven’t forced her to suck my dick. I haven’t even whipped my cock out. Down is up, up is down.

Then she undoes the belt of her robe, the silk sliding down her shoulders. She’s dressed in one of those delicate nighties Pace loves so much, with the scooped neck and the sheer fabric. Yeah, I get the appeal. Sweet little virgin.

Annnd bingo. My cock perks right back up like I didn’tjustrub one off.

No.

I’m better than this.

Better thanher.

She may have the Ashby blood, but I have the Ashby training.

I shrug and sip my tea. “I’m just here to sleep, Princess.”

She eases warily onto the other side of the bed—the one farthest from the door. The bed is made to fit four people. She could roll twice and not even graze me. Still, she lays stiff as a board right against the edge, arms crossed rigidly beneath her tits.

Rolling my eyes, I reach over to grab the milk from the tray, straining over the distance to hand it to her. “Drink up.”

She eyes it disdainfully. “Do I have to?”

“Do you want to explain to Father why you’re bucking his precious bedtime traditions?” I ask. Frowning, she thrusts out her hand, taking the glass. I give her a cold grin. “That’s daddy’s good girl.”

Her eyes flash resentfully, but she tips the glass to her mouth, cringing through a sip.

We drink in silence, and when I’m finished, I try to settle in the bed. It’s not as comfortable as mine or Lex’s, or even Pace’s couch. I’m used to bodies being around me, hard and solid. There’s a reason I never slept with her while I was making my deposits. I like sleeping next to my brothers. The sheets in my bed smell like them, not the cloying rose that follows Verity around. The same scent that my cock responds to like a Pavlovian dog.

Her head pops up over the pillow barricade. “Stop shaking the mattress!”

I grunt as I violently adjust. “How is it shaking? I feel like I’m drowning in quicksand,Christ.”

Huffing, she pointedly turns off the lamp, casting the room in near darkness. It takes a few minutes, but I finally find a semi-comfortable position, although I can tell sleep isn’t going to come. I can hear the soft swell of her inhales and exhales like this frail little whisper, and that’s enough to put me on edge. I’ve never slept beside a chick before. Especially not the kind seeking my demise.

“What did he mean about people breaking into the palace?” she asks, drawing me out of my misery.

My eyebrows slam together. “What?”

“King Ashby, at dinner?” Her voice is soft and hushed. “He said one of you needed to sleep here because of break-ins in the past.”

I exhale, annoyed at the questions, and stare up at the dark ceiling. “Anytime a Princess is carrying a child, she’s at risk. It’s the perfect opportunity for some fuckwit to try to make a name for himself.”

There’s a tense pause. “You think someone would really try to kill me? Or the baby?”

“Kill?” I scoff. Bit of a drama queen, this one. “It depends on their goals. Are they looking to take down Father and make a run at his throne? Is someone trying to start a war? Or are they some low-level Royal trying to gain a little more clout? There are a lot worse things than death,Princess.” She shifts next to me, but I refuse to look in her direction. “A while back, someone broke in and splattered the nursery walls in pig blood. Sometimes, a message is enough.”

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Who did it?”

I roll my eyes. “Well, the pentagram and message they left pointed to the Barons, but I’m not convinced.”

“Didn’t Pace have cameras up?”