Page 13 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

13

TWENTY YEARS OLD

Lydia squeezed Violet hard enough to cut her in half, her excitement palpable. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us to get away from these two?” she teased. “Victoria and I would love to have you live with us.”

“Stop trying to convince my only friend to leave me,” Slayton grumbled.

“Hey,” Griff protested. “I’m your friend too.”

Lydia waved Slayton off. “Whatever girl you’re dating this week will keep you company.”

Slayton pulled Lydia into a quick hug before passing her off to Griff.

Griff squeezed his cousin for a long while. He played tough, but Lydia leaving affected him. He viewed her as a little sister. Releasing her, he cleared his throat. “I’ll miss your smartass mouth.”

Tears pricked the corners of Violet’s eyes. She was a crier and hated seeing her friend upset.

Last year, Lydia met her new wife, Victoria, and they were moving to the Garden Kingdom to be closer to Victoria’s family. Her sister’s husband had died suddenly, and Victoria needed to move home to help with her three nephews.

Victoria had left for the Garden Kingdom a week prior, wanting to get there as soon as possible. Lydia, having all her family and friends here in the Tropical Kingdom, needed longer to tie up loose ends and say goodbye.

With a last round of quick hugs, Lydia hopped into the carriage and left them all behind for a new adventure. What would it be like to travel out of the Tropical Kingdom?

“Are you alright?” a familiar deep voice asked from behind them.

Violet shrieked and flipped around. Roman stood impossibly close, his words laced with concern. Where in the hell did he come from? Her question died on her tongue as she took him in. As handsome as ever, he wore a fitted, long-sleeved, beige shirt that clung to his chest like a second skin. It only had a few buttons at the top, all of which were undone, and he ran a hand through his short blond hair, making his biceps bulge.

Her mouth dried; her farewell to Lydia momentarily forgotten. She’d moved on from Roman, no longer harboring a painful love for the boy who’d stolen her heart at twelve years old, but she wasn’t blind. Good gods, he got sexier every time she saw him. Royal fae were tall, and she guessed he stood at least six foot four or six foot five by now. Perfect for climbing.

Slayton elbowed her in the side to break her trance, and she cleared her throat, feeling like an idiot. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Yes,” she replied. “Just telling Lydia goodbye. She and her wife moved to the Garden Kingdom.”

But Roman wasn’t listening to her. At least she didn’t think he was, because his gaze narrowed at Slayton’s arm that had elbowed her in the side.

Griff snorted, and Roman looked over at him before turning his attention back to Violet. “I’m sorry, princess. I saw you crying and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It touched her he’d taken the time to check on her, but it also made her feel guilty for ogling him like a piece of meat. “Thank you. These two promised to take me out for strawberry cake.”

Roman rubbed his jaw, his gaze never wavering from hers. “If you need anything, let me know.” He turned to Slayton. “If you hit her again, I’ll break your arm.”

Slayton, who clearly had a death wish, smirked with a mock salute. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Without another word, Roman nodded and walked off, leaving her to stare after him.

“Is it just me, or does he get moodier the older we get?” Griff asked when the prince was out of ear shot.

Slayton shrugged as they started back toward the bakery. “He’s always been like that. At least as long as I’ve known him.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Violet argued, feeling defensive. “Serious? Yes, but never moody. He’s actually really fun once you get to know him.”

“Violet and Roman used to be best buddies when we were younger,” Griff told Slayton. “They’d get in trouble for laughing in the back of class.”

Violet smiled to herself, remembering the silly notes they’d send back and forth, and she couldn’t help but miss their friendship, even before her pesky heart leapt from her chest into his hands.

Maybe now that they were older they could.

Maybe .

* * *

A few weeks later, Violet fastened Ares’ leather training shirt and moved back to examine her work. “What do you think?”

He inspected the absorbent panel she’d added to the outside forearm area of his sleeves and smiled. “It’s perfect. Sorry I wore out the last one.” He dug into his pocket and handed her a few coins.

Over the last year, Violet had created a profitable business altering and customizing the guards’ fighting leathers, amongst other things. With the queen’s permission, Violet’s father helped her set up a tent near the training arena, and from there, things took off.

Her most requested item was a thick, absorbent cloth sewn to the forearm panel to wipe the sweat from their faces. Apparently, swiping leather across dirty, sticky skin was uncomfortable, and after hearing Griff complain a million times, she’d fixed the issue for him. Before long, warriors were approaching her, asking her to do the same for them.

It allowed her to cut back her hours at the dress shop in town. She made enough to quit the dress shop altogether, but Maggie, the owner, had been all over Eden and knew everything there was to know about the fashion and techniques of the other kingdoms. Each kingdom had vastly different tastes due to the varying climates.

Lydia’s move to the Garden Kingdom had sparked a fresh desire in Violet to follow in her boss’ footsteps, but Maggie said it had taken her almost two years. Traveling Eden itself didn’t take years, but staying in each kingdom long enough to learn their ways took time. Violet didn’t think she could handle being away from her family and friends that long, so the next best thing was Maggie.

Violet deposited the money into her bag and waved in the next person. A tall, handsome man with curly brown hair, sun-kissed skin, and bright green eyes stepped inside. He stood a little over six feet tall and had a lean, well-built frame, and her breath caught when their gazes collided.

The handsome man stared at her with parted lips as his eyes roamed over her face. The two stared at each other for an eternity before Violet snapped out of it.

“Hello.” She scanned his clothes, noting the lack of leathers. “Are you a warrior?” She couldn’t tell. This man had a warrior’s build, but warriors wore fighting leathers during training, and this man wore a simple linen shirt tucked into dark brown trousers.

He walked farther inside her little tent and extended his hand. “Titus. I’m the new weapons master.” He ate up her appearance as if she was an anomaly he’d never seen before.

Violet tentatively took his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Forgive me,” he apologized. “No one warned me the battalion seamstress was beautiful. You took me off guard.”

She scrunched her nose at his terrible attempt at flirting. “Does that work on many women?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not yet. Did it work on you?”

“No.” She beamed. “But I’m flattered all the same. What can I help you with today?”

He held out a black jacket and pointed at the pocket. “My jacket is torn.”

“Ahh.” She accepted the garment and inspected the hole. “Do you carry sharp tools in here?”

Titus smiled sheepishly. “Yes.”

She tsked and folded the jacket. “You could cut yourself, you know.”

“It’s a terrible habit,” he agreed. “One I’m suddenly glad I haven’t been able to break.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. “I can line the pockets with leather to protect the cloth from tearing in the future.”

His lips pulled into a slow smile. “Pretty and smart.”

“Your lines are getting better,” she praised with a light laugh, making his smile grow. “I can have this finished by tomorrow morning. Will that work?”

“Take your time. I have other coats I need to rip the pockets on too.” He winked when she burst out laughing.

Violet jotted his name and what he needed on a piece of paper and attached it to his jacket with a pin.

He started to leave but stopped, and said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

She looked up, surprised. Her eyes met his, and the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter. “Violet.”

“Violet.” He murmured her name as though testing it out. “It was nice to meet you, Violet.”

“You, too, Titus.”

He lifted the flap of the tent, paused, and dropped it, spinning toward her again. “I’d like to take you out.”

Violet tossed his jacket into a basket and lifted an amused brow. “Was that supposed to be a question?”

He blew out a shaky breath. Is he nervous? “I’m messing this up. Violet, oh beautiful seamstress who will save me from stabbing myself, would you do me the pleasure of allowing me to take you to dinner?”

Trying not to seem like a giddy schoolgirl, she shrugged one shoulder as nonchalantly as possible. “Sure. I’m free tomorrow night.”

The way his face lit up sparked a new kind of excitement within her. “Tomorrow sounds perfect. Do you live in the compound?”

She picked up another piece of paper and wrote down her address. “I grew up in the compound, but I live on the outskirts of town now.”

Titus glanced at the paper and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll pick you up at six o’clock.” He opened the flap and looked back one last time. “Goodbye, Violet.”

He disappeared outside, and she stared after him with a goofy grin on her face. How long had it been since she’d gone out with a man?

Too long.

Titus seemed different, and what was better, he wasn’t a warrior or guard. She’d written off her sister’s colleagues long ago, not wanting to relive the Dominic incident. At least she’d never had to face him afterward. He had supposedly tucked tail and ran after Roman beat him half to death.

The next person walked in, and Violet composed herself, already thinking about what she’d wear on her date.

* * *

Roman brooded as he and Vivian walked through downtown toward the theater. His parents insisted they meet them for the opening night of a new play, adamant the future monarchs needed to be seen together. Roman did everything in his power to avoid Vivian outside of his weekly dinners that they now had at the palace with his parents.

Not for lack of trying on Vivian’s part. Roman held no interest to her, but being future queen did, and he hated how she acted when they made public appearances, like the world should bow at her feet. She no more deserved to be queen than a contrite toddler.

“Ares and I are sparring with the generals from Henton tomorrow,” he told Vivian, needing something to talk about other than Vivian herself before he bashed his head against the closest wall. Henton, a neighboring village of Saltu, boasted a reputation for their ruthless battle training techniques. “It should be a good show.”

“You and Ares are attached at the hip,” Vivian griped. “There are plenty of other men in the battalion to befriend.”

Vivian hated Ares, not that he liked her any better. They often squabbled at training, and Ares told Roman that on the occasion they argued during Roman’s absence, she threw around her position as future queen to get her way.

Roman’s patience wore thin, and he came to a sudden stop. “Whatever your issue with Ares is, put it to rest.”

Vivian’s face screwed up. “Then tell him to show me respect,” she rebutted hotly. “I am his future queen, and he’s always challenging my decisions in training.”

The entitlement this woman had astounded Roman. Any time Ares challenged her, it was to show her a better way of doing something, and it pissed her off. Her skill level did not compare to his.

She started to say more, but Roman’s attention snagged on Violet walking their way on the arm of a man. Where do I know him from, and why is he looking at Violet that way? Roman had never seen them together or heard her talk about him to her friends.

Violet laughed at something the man said, and jealousy tried to consume Roman, but he tamped it down to keep Vivian from feeling the full force of it.

Vivian frowned at him and followed his line of sight, her breath hitching right before indignant fury blasted down the bond. He looked down at her, but her attention belonged to the couple before them. Roman’s lip curled. Vivian’s disdain for Violet pissed him off more than any of her other shortcomings.

Anytime someone brought up her sister, Vivian either made a snide comment or changed the subject. The last time she’d made a disparaging comment about her sister in his presence, he’d almost threatened to cut her tongue out. But he knew if he showed Violet favorable attention, Vivian might try to hurt her. Roman didn’t think Vivian would hurt Violet physically, but there were many other ways to harm a person.

Vivian only remained in possession of her life because Roman didn’t think Violet would take her death well, despite their strained relationship.

Violet and the man glanced up, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. The man looked from Vivian to Violet and back again, no doubt shocked at their likeness. He didn’t know Violet well, then, if he didn’t know she had an identical twin.

Roman pasted a smile on his face and sauntered forward, prepared to find out everything he could about the man foolish enough to touch the future queen.

* * *

No . Of all nights to run into her sister, why did it have to be tonight? Violet didn’t miss the way Vivian glared at her as they approached. No relationship existed between Vivian and Violet other than random encounters when their parents had them both over for dinner, and every word out of Vivian’s mouth contained a tinge of negativity aimed at Violet.

Titus looked between Violet and her sister several times and whispered, “Is that your sister?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” she joked back. Hopefully they could say hi and leave as quickly as possible.

“You don’t look happy to see her,” Titus observed.

“It’s not that.” She pushed a strand of wayward hair out of her face and tried to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

Titus ran his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand. “Want me to make an excuse to leave immediately?”

Her eyes snapped to his, finding them full of mischief. Violet felt the weight of her sister’s presence lift. She hadn’t realized it, but part of her worried Titus would see Vivian and wish he’d been with her instead. “We’ll say hi, and if they try to lock us into a conversation, can you fake a medical emergency?”

He barked out a laugh. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Hey!” Everyone turned toward the shout across the street. Slayton waved and jogged over, and Violet breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone could make a situation more comfortable, it was him.

He threw his arm around Violet. “There’s my girl.” He smacked a theatrical kiss on her cheek.

She side-eyed her friend, and Titus playfully tugged her closer. “Is there something I should know?”

“Yeah, there is,” Slayton played along and puffed out his chest. He made to kiss her again, but she covered his face with her hand and pushed him back. “I’m going to loosen all the crotch seams of your pants the next time you ask me for alterations.”

“I’m Vivian,” her sister interjected and held out her hand to Titus.

Titus shook it with a polite smile. “Titus.” He held his hand out to Roman. The prince watched him closely and took his proffered hand.

“Roman.” He withdrew and turned to Violet. “Where have you two been?”

Titus gestured toward the building behind them. “Gus’ Tavern. They have the best steak.”

“I could go for steak,” Slayton butted in before Roman could reply. He gestured toward Gus’ and asked Roman, “Do you two want to grab dinner?” Violet held back a laugh. Those two weren’t friends in the least, and Slayton hated Vivian.

Vivian’s contemptuous glare would have scared a lesser man. “No.” The woman tossed her glossy hair and batted her lashes at Roman. “We have a date at the theater tonight.” Roman pursed his lips, and Vivian snuggled into his side, or tried to until he smoothly adjusted his stance, blocking her attempt to burrow against him.

Slayton snapped his fingers with feigned disappointment. “Damn.”

Everything about this impromptu meeting made Violet want to jump in front of a carriage. Awkward did not begin to describe it.

Titus sighed noisily. “I hate to cut our conversation short, but Violet and I have plans. It was nice meeting you two.” Titus nodded to Slayton. “Good to meet you.”

Slayton shook Titus’ hand and smirked. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Roman tipped his head to Titus. “I’ll be by the armory to more properly introduce myself.” It sounded like a threat.

The prince stepped forward and pulled Violet into a quick hug that stunned her into paralysis. “It was good to see you, princess.” He glared at Slayton. “Bye.”

Slayton laughed like Roman had told a joke only they understood. “Bye, Your Grace.”

Roman ignored him and guided a silent Vivian toward the theater.

“That was interesting,” Slayton remarked.

Violet glanced at the future king and queen, and mumbled, “That’s one way to put it.”

* * *

Roman milled around Violet’s cottage, searching for evidence indicating Titus had been there after their date.

The only men’s items were the clothes with names pinned to them piled high in a basket by the door. Roman’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. Her success made him proud. She did excellent work and everyone loved her. He frowned and thought back to Titus. Perhaps they loved her a little too much.

Satisfied Titus had not been there, he wandered back to Violet’s room. As was his ritual, Roman stood at the side of her bed, checked her breathing, and planted himself in a cushioned wing-backed chair in the corner, a new addition to her room as of late.

Roman had his night routine down to an art. He’d go to bed early in his rooms, have the same nightmare, wake up around three in the morning, and slip into Violet’s cottage to check on her.

And watch her sleep.

There had been times when Violet stayed up all night, sitting in her bed as if waiting for something or someone. Those nights he stayed poised to attack. He didn’t know what he’d do if another man showed up, but he knew they’d never make it to the bed alive.

Roman flushed hot with anger. It was selfish to keep Violet from finding happiness with another man, and he’d told himself on the way over here that until he could be the one to make her happy, he’d force himself to be okay with her dating , but there would be no fucking.

Roman would kill someone before he’d allow them to touch what was his. Because she was his, and he was hers. He’d never touched another woman, and he never would.