Page 18 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)
18
TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD
Violet hurried down the sidewalk toward the pleasure house, eager to watch tonight’s show. Two of her favorite performers would be on stage, and she didn’t want to miss it.
Roman said he’d meet her there after meeting with the council. Word about Vivian breaking the mate bond had spread like wildfire, and the fear and unrest amongst the kingdom’s citizens hit an all-time high. Personally, Violet thought the reasoning strange.
So what if a royal at their full power could glamour an entire kingdom? There had never been a large enough scale attack to warrant that level of protection. I guess familiars were useful because they could spy undetected, assuming they weren’t a giant like War. Imagine a great tigon tromping through the Desert Kingdom for intel.
The gods likely had a good reason thousands of years ago—perhaps a lot of unrest in the early settlements—but now it felt stupid. Unfortunately, royalists believed the royals had the blood of gods running through their veins and that the gods would rain hellfire on the world if they dared taint their godly blood.
All hogwash, if you asked Violet, but it didn’t matter what she thought. There were enough of them that they’d spread fear throughout the Tropical Kingdom.
A man she’d never seen before stepped in front of her. “Violet?”
She pulled up short, almost crashing into him. He looked to be around ten years older than her twenty-three years, with pale skin, and light brown hair peeking out from under his brown, wide-brim hat. “Yes?”
He took his hat off and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He waved his hand across the street. “I saw you walking and just wanted to introduce myself. Paul.” Paul stuck his hand out.
Violet shook it, feeling awkward. “It’s nice to meet you, Paul.”
“Look, I’ve been through what you have,” he started, his words coming out in a rush. She tensed. I can’t deal with this again. “My wife had an affair with my best friend and left me and my two kids,” Paul went on, replacing his hat. “If you ever need someone to talk to or have a drink with, I’m a good listener.”
Violet would like to say this was the most awkward thing she’d encountered since her sister ran off with Titus, but that would be a lie. People stopped her often, offering her words of pity, encouragement, or vitriol, depending on if they mistook her for Vivian or not. The latter were the worst. She’d considered wearing a sign around her neck that said, “VIOLET. NOT VIVIAN.”
“Thank you, Paul, that’s very kind of you.” She nodded in the direction she was headed. “I apologize but I have to go. I’m meeting someone.”
Without waiting for his reply, she hurried off. Something else she’d learned: if she tried to carry on a conversation to be polite, it either never ended or it got weird . She’d rather not stay to find out.
She heard Paul cry out behind her, followed by a loud crunch. Momentarily distracted, she tripped on a loose cobblestone and went tumbling to the ground. Something snatched her out of thin air seconds before her face collided with the hard ground.
“Gods, princess, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Roman mumbled as he put her back on her feet and started to fuss with her twisted skirts.
“Quit, you mother hen,” she chided and pulled her skirt from his grasp. “And thank you for saving me. One of the stones is loose and I caught my toe.”
He dropped to his knees, already reaching for her feet. “Let me see.”
She brushed him off, tucking her foot under her dress. “My toe is fine.”
He glanced at her from his spot on the ground, face level with her chest due to his massive form, and a small spark flared in her heart; something she’d thought Titus had smashed to bits. A movement over Roman’s shoulder caught her interest, and she gaped at Paul moaning on the ground, his face bloodied.
“Oh my gods,” she started toward him, but Roman stopped her. “He’s still alive.”
She balked at her friend. “I’d hope so. What did you do to him?”
“What I had to,” Roman responded, refusing to look away from her. “He won’t bother you again.”
“You cannot go around smashing people’s faces for speaking to me,” she insisted, secretly thrilled at his obvious jealousy. What is wrong with me?
His brows rose. “Yes, I can.”
“Roman,” Marissa’s grating voice called from across the street, making Violet want to scream. The woman popped up everywhere, and it drove her crazy.
To Violet’s delight, Roman seemed annoyed. “Please don’t invite her to come with us,” she whispered to herself, but not low enough because Roman’s large hand found her chin and pinned her with a heated stare.
“I would never let anyone encroach on our time at the pleasure house,” he avowed. “ Never .”
For years, the pleasure house had been their thing, even when they never spoke about it aloud. After seeing him there two or three times, Violet went on the same day, at the same time, every week, hoping he’d be there too. At the time, there was nothing romantic to it, but it had been nice to know someone she knew and respected had the same special interests as her.
Lately, it felt like more . She wasn’t ready to date again, and even if she was, Violet didn’t know what came next for Roman. Would the gods give him a new mate? Would he get to choose? Would he choose me?
Other than his extreme protectiveness, he gave no indication that he wanted her. That could just be him wanting to protect a friend. He did get jealous just now , a little voice reminded her. But he refused to discuss Vivian, said he didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, but Violet wondered if he masked his hurt.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Marissa said once she’d joined them on their side of the street.
Roman tensed. “Why?”
Marissa looked hurt at Roman’s curt tone. “I bought tickets to your favorite play at the theater tonight. It’s opening night, and I thought we could go.”
Roman softened, and Violet hid her surprise. Roman has a favorite play? Why didn’t she know about it? As much as Violet disliked Marissa, she didn’t want to keep Roman from seeing something he enjoyed since he enjoyed so little.
“We can go there instead,” Violet offered. “I can buy a ticket when we arrive.”
“They’re sold out,” Marissa said apologetically. “If I’d known he’d be with you, I would have bought three.”
Roman dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a few coins. “To cover the tickets. I appreciate the offer, but Violet and I have plans.”
Violet feigned interest at the shop window behind them to hide her smile. It was nice to be chosen for once.
* * *
“Are you jealous of Marissa, princess?” Roman murmured in Violet’s ear after they took their seats side by side at the pleasure house.
Roman took note of the chills cascading across her neck. What he wouldn’t give to suck the delicate skin into his mouth, see how long he could keep the small bumps on her skin.
“I’m not jealous.”
Roman grinned, his mouth still next to her ear. “Liar. Did you think I didn’t notice your cute little smile when I turned her down.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I won’t speak ill of your friend.”
Interesting . “Being jealous of someone does not equate to insult. Do you not like Marissa?” He’d never speak to the woman again if she’d upset his future wife.
Violet paused before waving him off. “She’s fine. I just didn’t want to cancel our plans.”
Roman cursed the dim lighting preventing him from seeing whether she spoke the truth or not. There were few secrets between them. Why would she lie now? “I would let nothing keep me from watching you rub your pretty little thighs together.” He should pull back, lest he send her running, but her jealousy had him on a high. “Tell me, princess, are they slippery?”
Violet’s breathing picked up, and she adjusted herself in her seat. “We aren’t supposed to discuss the pleasure house.” Her throaty voice went straight to his cock.
All he wanted was to run his hand up her thigh and see for himself. Would she let him? Was it too soon? Did she still love Titus after what he’d done?
He leaned down and softly kissed her neck. “One day I’ll change your mind and hear every dirty thought you have.”
The hand she held nearest him twitched, and she fidgeted again, murmuring, “One day.”
* * *
Two days later, Violet hurried down her porch steps to head to work. “Of all the days to be late,” she muttered to herself. She’d overslept and was late meeting with a new client who wanted a custom wedding dress.
Hanging on her post box was a sloppy flower crown full of bright purple flowers. She grinned, the gift from her tiny neighbor lifting her mood. He’d been leaving her random flower crowns for the past two years. When she’d see him coming or going with his mother, she’d wave and thank him for the pretty crown. The boy always nodded and left in a hurry with red-stained cheeks.
After plucking it off the box, she situated it on her head and bounded down the stairs but came to an abrupt halt, groaning. An obscene number of workers lined the streets, ripping up the cobblestone. There was a narrow walkway on each side, and when she got closer to town, more people were trying to squeeze into the small space to get where they were going.
Drat . She’d have to wake earlier on the days she worked at the dress shop to account for the foot traffic. Hopefully the construction wouldn’t last long.
Only it did last long because the crown had ordered every single sidewalk and street to be rebuilt.