Page 20

Chapter twenty

D awn light streams through the bedroom window. Still pale from spring even though it feels as if I have been in Buckingham Palace for centuries. It is unsettling to realise I haven’t even been here long enough for the seasons to turn. I have only known Llywelyn for one spring.

I swallow tightly and look down at him. He is finally asleep. Sated. And his strange fever has broken.

He is a sprawled naked mess on the filthy sheets. So fucking beautiful it is taking my breath away. I let my eyes feast one last time on the splendour of his perfect body. I drink in all the long lean lines and soft curves. Then I cover him up.

My muscles protest as I slide out of bed. I’m getting too old to stay up all night for a fuck-fest. My body is going to make me pay the price, and it is going to be worth it.

Last night was incredible. I don’t even have the words to describe it. Llywelyn was needy, desperate, eager. So very responsive. So very welcoming of my every touch.

I loved it. I exulted in it. It satisfied me in a way that I have never been fulfilled before. I felt strong. Powerful. It felt like he was mine. Not mine to own and possess. Mine to cherish and take care of. Mine to worship and keep safe.

It was heady. It is still heady. I’ve stepped into a whole new reality and I’m not sure the old one will ever return. Everything has changed, and I will never be the same again .

I stagger into the shower and robotically go through the motions of washing. As well as euphoric, I feel numb. Almost detached. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep.

I tiptoe out of the bathroom and find Llywelyn still fast asleep. The sight of him laid out in a decadent sprawl and not curled up into a tiny ball, is making me feel all kinds of proud. Even though I have no idea if it has anything to do with me or not.

I throw on a simple dressing gown and creep out of the bedchamber before I disturb him. I follow the faint sound of clinking, and find Tae in the breakfast room, setting the table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose. Oh god, that’s exactly what I need. I slide onto a chair and pour myself a cup. The first gulp has me sighing in contentment.

I watch Tae carefully laying out a selection of fruit. I know his tiny bedroom shares a wall with Llywelyn’s bedchamber. He has to know what kind of night we had. Strangely, I’m not embarrassed.

“Has he been like that before?” I ask.

Because as much as I would love to pat myself on the back for being the world’s best lover, I’m not delusional. Something is going on and my inquisitive mind needs to know. For the mission. For myself. For Llywelyn’s well-being.

Tae shakes his head.

I take another sip of my coffee. “Do fey get like that sometimes?”

Another headshake.

“What do you think caused it?” I try.

Eyes the colour of forget-me-nots meet mine. I swear they were green before.

“Charms. Maybe.” His voice is soft and airy. Like the rustle of leaves in a spring breeze.

“What are charms?” I ask.

Tae picks up a daffodil from the vase on the table. He snaps the yellow head off, discards it and weaves the green stem into a complicated, circular knot.

He holds it up for me to look at. “Magic,” he adds .

He places the charm down on the white linen tablecloth and cuts a thin slice of sausage. He holds the sliver up and frowns. “Or this. But wood.”

Okay, I get the idea. Charms and hex bags exist in human folklore, so it is not a completely alien concept. Small tokens imbued with magic. Things that can be hidden in a person’s home and do them harm.

The sound of soft footsteps catches my attention. I crane my neck just in time to see Llywelyn, wrapped in a sheet, passing the open doorway. It looks like he is heading for his luxurious sunken bath.

Tae quickly places the last plate of food on the table.

“Will you help me look for charms later?” I ask.

Bright blue eyes flash at me as he nods. Then he hurries after Llywelyn, presumably to see if the prince needs any help in the bath.

I down the rest of my coffee and hurry back to the bedchamber. I’m not really sure why I want to keep my search for charms from Llywelyn. Habits, training, my inability to trust. Or simply the fact that I’m a secretive bastard at heart. Whatever the root cause, I know I’m incapable of just telling him that I want to look.

I slink around the bedchamber. Feeling under surfaces. Peering into shadowy corners. I try to lift the mattress up but it is impossibly heavy. I’m going to need Tae’s help to check there. In the meantime, there are plenty of other places for me to look.

I work swiftly, with practised ease. It feels strange to be searching for magic charms instead of listening devices and hidden cameras, but the premise is the same.

As I slide out the bottom drawer of a beautifully carved chest of drawers, I realise the bottom is false. A few taps, and I find the release. The secret compartment opens up and I blink in surprise.

It is crammed full of what looks like stuffed toys. They are made of some sort of crocheted material and have freaky buttons for eyes. And they are woodland creatures like wolves and deer and foxes, rather than the generic teddy bear style. But they still very much resemble stuffed toys.

As I’m staring in bewilderment, I hear Llywelyn step into the bedroom. I don’t try to cover up my discovery. I don’t think there is time. And I need to ask him about this.

I sense him freeze behind me as he sees what I’m looking at.

“Are these yours?” I ask.

“Yes,” he croaks weakly.

“Are they voodoo dolls?” They certainly look creepy enough.

“What is a voodoo doll?”

I turn around and face him. “Effigies. You stick pins in them and the intended victim feels it.”

His golden eyes flash. “Yes. Yes, that is exactly what they are.” He lifts his chin up and a hint of pink traces down his cheekbones.

I lick my dry lips. “I can tell when you are lying.”

He jerks as if struck and drops his gaze. The pink turns to a fierce red. “They hold no magic or purpose. I…I just enjoy making them.”

My eyebrows rise. Prince Llywelyn Y Mabinogi crochets stuffed toys in his spare time? I say nothing and let a thick silence fall. Rule 101 in interrogation.

“I…I.” He stops and clears his throat. “I used to keep them on that shelf, and sometimes my bed. But when I knew an agent was coming to help me, I put them away.”

His words hit me like a splash of cold water and suddenly I’m not thinking of soft toys or magic charms. I’m considering something that has never crossed my mind before.

A blast of rage momentarily blinds me. My thoughts race through the idea that someone else could have been given this mission. My mind flicks through the other agents that I know and who could have been assigned. I imagine each one of them here. Pretending to be Llywelyn’s pet. Sharing his bed. Hearing his nightmares. Learning his secrets. Exploiting them. Manipulating Llywelyn into falling for them. Encouraging Llywelyn to spread his legs for them.

I jump to my feet. Llywelyn steps back. My fists clench by my side as my stomach rolls. I can’t bear it, can’t stand it. The thought of anyone else touching Llywelyn, taking advantage of his vulnerability, is making me want to scream in fury.

It is making me realise the power imbalance between us. I’m a highly trained Special Agent with years of experience. He has his flaws, but at the core of it all, he is a lonely, vulnerable young man. One that fucking makes stuffed toys in his spare time and snuggles them in bed.

He never stood a chance against me.

I’m a dark, insidious influence. I’m going to put him on his brother’s throne so my superiors can use him. Nothing I’ve done to him, and nothing I’m planning to do to him, is for his benefit.

He has spent his life as a chess piece and I’m just the latest player.

Llywelyn eyes me warily. His cheeks are still flushed. He is ashamed of his stuffies, and now he is scared because I’ve flown into an inexplicable rage.

I force myself to breathe calmly. I focus on the feel of the plush carpet against my bare toes. It is fine. None of the other agents are here to abuse Llywelyn. I am. I am the one who is here. I’m the one who gets to use him.

But I can be mindful of my power. I can treat him as kindly as the mission allows. I can give him multiple orgasms a night.

Oh god. I run my hand over my face. I’m so screwed. This is such a tangled, hopeless mess.

I shake my head and finally, finally pull myself together. I fix Llywelyn with a bright, teasing smile.

“You make stuffies? That is so cute!”

He blinks at me. “It is?”

I chuckle and close the distance between us. I pull him into a hug. He is going to be confused about my sudden affection and warmth, but screw it. We did just have a night of incredible sex. I don’t think being softer is too strange. Surely it is a natural progression.

He holds himself as stiff as a statue in my embrace. Then he awkwardly places his arms around me.

“I know what this is!” he says excitedly. “I’ve seen Jamie give them. This is a hug!”

My eyes scrunch tight as agony squeezes my heart. Oh my fucking god. My arms tighten around him.

I don’t want to let him go. I want to abandon my mission and assign myself a new one. One that I could pledge myself to with all my heart and soul. One I could embrace as my new religion.

To keep Llywelyn safe at all costs.