Page 10 of Mated to the Crown

The morning came quicker than I wanted. I turned and looked outside our small window in the room I shared with Lyra, seeing the sun starting to creep out from the mountains.

We had two twin beds that barely fit in this room but it was something that was normal for the servants.

It was a plain room, wooden floors and pale yellow walls.

A bathroom adjoined our room and another bedroom.

I went into the bathroom, washed my face and quickly changed into a pale green dress. It was one of my ‘nicer’ dresses. I don’t even know why I was bothering. I hated Prince Malik. Yes, yes. I hated him alright.

Not.

“Where are you going?” Lyra appeared at the door, rubbing at her eyes. Her hair was smushed on one side, her eyes still droopy.

“I have new chores, remember? I have to bring towels and sheets to Prince Malik.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn before heading back into the bedroom.

I finish getting ready and head to the laundry rooms. I grab towels and sheets before heading up to his room.

I knock, trying to be polite but not seeing Morgan nearby to ask if Prince Malik is awake or not.

I hear a groan before the door whips open.

I am confronted with a bed headed Prince Malik and fuck, he looks good.

His hair is messy, sticking up in various places.

He drags a hand across his face and I can’t help but notice his abs.

The muscles are thickly layered, proving me wrong about my early accusation that he just sits around.

Clearly not, look at those things. My eyes continue to travel, noticing all he is wearing are black boxers and someone is happy to see me.

I quickly snap my eyes back up to his as he lets me in.

I rush into the bathroom after some conversation with him.

He scolds me for calling him Your Highness.

It was something I had done for years to every other Royal so I wasn’t sure if I could fix that tendency so quickly.

I keep my answers short, snapping often to try and keep him in his own lane.

I still couldn’t figure out if I wanted to even try this fantasy or let it be.

When I come back out after stocking the towels I notice he has disappeared into the closet so I focus on the sheets.

Pulling them off sends a scent of him toward me, filling my nose as I change them.

What kind of sick fuck are you, Celeste? Sniffing his sheets.

There is a slight hint of a female smell too so I try to forget about it. I’m not his, why would it matter if he had someone in his bed? I busy myself with putting the new sheets on and go to the closet.

It is huge. Filled to the brim of clothes I couldn’t even dream of. I don’t mean to stare but my mouth drops slightly as I look around. A knot forms in my stomach. Another reminder that we are from two different worlds. He would never want for something. I had just had enough to get by.

“That fantasy could include a closet filled with your clothes too.” He smirks, meeting my eyes and I want to believe him but there is doubt seeded deep within. I’m probably just a plaything for him. He is bored of the concubines, surely.

“What? I’ll be back at 7.” I mutter and turn from the room. I make my way downstairs to the kitchen and stand off to the side, watching them cook.

Maybe I could work in the kitchen, they never see the Royals.

They constantly cook and bake, sometimes even going out to the markets to get new inspiration for dishes.

Unfortunately, I am not a great baker or cook.

I can do the basics but that is about it.

They probably wouldn’t let me change to the kitchen.

This morning they are making sausage, bacon, poached eggs and English muffins.

The English muffins come in fresh from the griddle, still steaming as they place them on plates.

A small dish of butter and jam is placed beside it.

Three pieces of sausage, two of bacon and 3 poached eggs go on next as they pass the plate to me.

A cover quickly goes over it and I am shooed from the room.

I grip the plate tightly, the heat seeping to my hands as I make my way upstairs. A woman pushes past me, her dress hugging her tightly and showing off her curves. I frown slightly, wondering where she is going in such a hurry and then I hear her call Your Highness and I stop.

I slip behind a corner, listening in to the conversation.

My chest tightens, wondering if this was the woman whose scent was on his sheets.

Quickly I dismiss it, hearing his voice rise.

Sending people to him? Maybe that was the seedier side of the servants.

I had heard of the women and men they truck in, to pleasure the Royals. I had never known any of them.

The woman storms off and I hear Prince Malik mutter something so I figure it was my time to step out from my hiding.

I walk quickly, not wanting to be late for my second chore of the day.

The last thing I needed was Jeffries coming down on me for that.

I rush to the door and knock, looking down at the tray in my hands.

The door opened but Prince Malik was not standing there as it opened.

Instead he was walking toward the bed, sitting down on the edge.

I step into the room, kicking the door closed behind me and walk over to him. I sit the tray down on his side table and take a step back, not sure what to do. He is clearly frustrated, his head tilted back against the headboard and his eyes shut.

“Have you eaten?” His question throws me off and I shake my head no. He looks at me before moving his legs and patting the bed next to him.

I glance between him and the bed before slowly moving over and sitting down. He pulls the tray cover off and throws it on the floor, a loud clunking echoing in the room. I wince at the noise and watch as he moves the plate in between us.

“Eat with me, Celeste.” His voice is low and rough when he speaks.“You don’t want to eat with me?”

“I didn’t even bring you a fork.” I let out a little laugh.

He smiles and opens the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a couple forks and a knife.

“Morgan always forgets too. Here.” He hands me a fork and I look up at him. He smiles again, softening his features. He doesn’t look like the strong, sharp witted Prince that all the pictures show. He looks like a nice guy who has emotions too.

“Thanks.” I whisper, taking the fork from his hand, our fingers brushing, sending heat to my cheeks. “How is your day going?”

“My day?” He stabs a sausage with his fork and takes a bite of it, chewing it slowly. “It’s been busy, honestly. I don’t usually get people asking me about my day.”

“Should I not ask?” I use the side of my fork to cut off a piece of sausage before popping it into my mouth. I glance at him and he reaches forward to touch the back of my hand.

“Please ask. It makes me feel normal, and not like a Prince.” A low chuckle leaves him and I relax a little. “I do need to talk to you about something though.”

“Oh?” My mind immediately races so I cut another piece of sausage.

“There are some rumors going on. Have you heard anything?” He slices into the middle of the egg, the yolk spilling on the plate.

Skillfully he pulls the English muffin apart, placing one half on the side of the plate closer to me.

He takes the other and swipes it through the yolk before biting into it.

I was mesmerized watching him eat. He seemed too casual, so unlike anything I thought he would be.

He wasn’t stuck up, or treating me like I was lower than him.

If anything, he was treating me as equal by sharing his meal.

“I have not.” I finally speak, my voice cracking.

“There are rumors I am trying to court a servant.” His lips pull up on one side and he raises an eyebrow at me. “What do you think of that?”

“Do they say who you are trying to court?” I ask quickly.

He finishes off his food, reaching out and cupping my face.

“No, but I wouldn’t be opposed to saying it is you.” He smiles.

“Me?” I squeak.

He leans forward until his nose touches mine. His eyes close and I take a moment to be in the now. His scent overwhelms me, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he moves his hand down the side of my neck before settling on my upper thigh.

“Yes Princess, you.”

I glare at him but he simply laughs. I try to push my own feelings to the side and think about him for a moment. I know how much trouble I could get in, but what about him? There is a difference between dating a servant and having a release with a concubine.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” I whisper.

“You care if I get in trouble?” He smirks and presses his lips to mine. I melt against him, his hands moving to push the plate away from the space between us. Soon he grabs my hips and pulls me into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and roll my hips against him.

“Isn’t that different from the fantasy we are pretending?” I ask, kissing down his strong jawline to his earlobe. He groans, digging his hands into my hips.

“Maybe it shouldn’t be a fantasy then.” One hand slides up my back, releasing the flesh from my hips and tangling in my hair instead. He pulls the hair tie out, sending my hair cascading down my shoulders. I can feel his heated gaze on me and I suddenly feel self conscious.

“I…”

“What? Tell me.” He sounds genuine, the mean streak he had earlier with that woman almost like a different person. He peppers kisses across my jawline and down my neck, nuzzling his nose against my collarbone.

“You are a Prince. I am a servant.” I whisper. He nips my collarbone, sending a jolt to my core.

“And?” He asks, licking the mark before he pulls the flesh into his mouth, alternating between sucking and kissing.

I writhe in his lap, grasping his shirt and tipping my head back to give him better access. I can feel his length beneath me and I start to worry.