Page 32 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

32

Once she’d slipped on her night dress and slippers, Violet looked around the large bedroom. A four-poster canopy bed with gold drapes, blankets, and bed skirt was against the back wall. It stood tall off the ground, and on each side were two little steps to help her climb up.

The rest of the room sported white walls with gold detailing and different paintings in golden frames. Instead of a set of rooms like in the palace, this was one space with a large sitting area in one corner, built-in armoires lining one wall with a dressing table and floor to ceiling mirror, and a glass door leading to the bathroom.

“Everything is so open,” she commented as she inspected her new home and trailed back into the bathroom for a better look. “Anyone could watch me bathe.”

Roman followed her into the oversized bathroom. A shower encased in glass stood next to a large marble bathing tub. Are those gold handles? A wash basin with a mirror and shelf for toiletries sat on the opposite wall next to the solid door of the water closet.

“That’s the idea,” he drawled. “I never want to take my eyes off of you.” He put a hand on the small of her back and led her through their bedroom to the door. “As far as everyone else, no one has a key to our room except for us. There is no around-the-clock staff, and during the work hours when the staff is here, only one maid is approved to clean our room at a specific time each day.”

Roman pulled out two keys and handed one to Violet. “If you do not want her to clean that day, lock the door.” Coming to a stop in front of another white painted door, he slid the key in the lock and turned the knob. “No one will bear witness to your naked body but me.”

The prince ushered her inside the room and every thought abandoned her. Five dressmaking mannequins lined a wall directly across from the window. During the day, the lighting would be exquisite.

A white wooden desk with gold hardware adorned the connecting wall, complete with a plush, velvet desk chair. Violet sat on the tall settee beside the desk and melted into the plush cushion. It was the softest piece of furniture she’d ever encountered.

On the opposite wall, a brand new sewing machine was nestled next to a large cabinet filled with bolts of fabric and organizational boxes containing various items, like beads, shells, and sewing supplies.

“Are there any more wonderful things in this place that are going to make me cry, because if so, I’d like to get it all done at once.” She sniffled and threw her arms around Roman’s middle. “I don’t think I will ever be able to say this enough, but thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this, and the fact that you put so much thought into it would make me love it, even if I hated it.”

He stiffened. “Do you hate it?”

Huffing, she stepped back and held her arms wide. “This room is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I love it. I promise.” In a few steps she was at the door, and she looked at him over her shoulder. “Show me your special room.”

He followed her into the hall and shut the door behind them. “What do you mean?”

Pausing, she turned to him fully and searched his handsome face, tanned from the sun and brushed with dark blond stubble. “What in this house is for just you?”

“Ah.” He nodded at the door across the hall from her sewing room. “This is my study.”

“Study?” Trailing after Roman, she stepped into the darkened room and surveyed the space. Where the rest of the house boasted all bright whites, golds, and pops of color, this room was all rich, dark colors with dark mahogany wood furniture.

A large two-sided fireplace stood in the middle of the room, dividing the study in half. One side contained his desk, cabinets, a table holding a detailed replica of Eden, and a few chairs facing his desk.

The other side of the room housed shelves filled with books and strategy games, a table with four chairs, soft reading chairs split by a table, and an overstuffed chaise lounge the size of a small bed.

One entire bookcase held slider puzzles in various shapes and sizes. Violet had never seen so many before, and she peeked at Roman from the corner of her eye. She knew he enjoyed them, but she hadn’t realized how much. She filed the information away for later.

Violet quirked her lips to the side at how very Roman the space was. “This suits you,” she remarked and studied the game set on the table. “Who were you playing with?”

“Slayton.”

Violet’s head snapped up in surprise. “My Slayton?”

Roman scowled. “He is not your Slayton.”

Oh, this is too good. “You and Slayton are friends,” she accused gleefully.

Roman stood firm and folded his arms across his chest. “No, we’re not.”

“You like him,” Violet taunted with a laugh. Stepping forward, she pried Roman’s arms apart and slid her own around his middle. “That makes me happy.”

Tenderness filled his gaze. “You’re delusional.”

She chuckled and spun around. “Let’s play a game.” Grabbing a familiar game from the shelf, she went to her knees on the soft rug before the fireplace and started to set up.

Roman crouched down and stayed her hand with his. “It’s late. We can play tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She sighed dramatically. “I was hoping we could play for articles of clothing, but I guess it can wait.”

Roman’s fingers curled around her wrist. Whatever he’d intended to say drowned out when a tinkering bell and clucking sound came from somewhere beyond the door.

Violet dropped the game pieces and pivoted to stare at the door. “What is that?”

The prince shot to his feet, mumbling under his breath before saying, “Babs. She must have escaped again and slipped in through War’s door.”

He made to leave, and Violet scrambled after him. “Who is Babs, and why does she sound like a bird?”

Roman peered over his shoulder, opened the door, and stared at a plump auburn hen with a pink string attached to the tiniest bell tied around her neck.

Violet jumped back, and the hen stared at Roman. She clucked with all the indignation a hen could possess and ran forward. Violet screamed and ran backward. The bird pecked Roman on the shin once and flapped her wings.

“You’re being a brat again,” Roman told the hen before picking her up and stroking her head gently. “Violet, this is Babs. Babs, this is my mate, Violet.”

Babs clucked in greeting.

Violet stared warily at Babs. “Roman, why are you holding a chicken with a name?”

“I was speaking with the head cook about moving a cook to our house, and Babs ran into the main kitchen, sending the staff into a fuss. A few tried to chase her down.” He chuckled. “She’s a slippery little thing. Cook said to use her for dinner, and I don’t know… It didn’t feel right.”

Violet’s eyes ticked from Roman to Babs. “You eat chicken all the time.”

He hiked a shoulder. “I didn’t want anyone to eat her.”

Violet rolled her lips together and took a tentative step forward. “You tied a bell to her.”

“She likes to hide,” he explained. “She’s not supposed to come into the house, but she keeps breaking out of her coop somehow.”

“If she poops in our house, I’m closing War’s door permanently,” Violet warned. The thought of stepping in chicken droppings made her want to puke. “I’m serious.”

Roman frowned. “She doesn’t come into the house often, and there have been no accidents yet.” He petted her again, and to Violet’s utter delight, raised his tone as if speaking to a small child. “You just wanted to meet Violet, didn’t you girl?”

Roman looked up to say something, noticed Violet’s barely leashed laughter, and frowned. “What’s so funny?”

Shaking her head, Violet waved her hand at him. “This. All of it. I’m bringing in an artist to commission a painting of you and Babs.”

“No, you’re not,” Roman grumbled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I need to remember this forever,” she informed him. “I’m hanging it up.”

“I’m not sitting for a painting.” Roman stalked down the hall with a bobbing Babs in tow.

“We’ll see,” Violet taunted and scurried after him.

How is this my life? she wondered to herself. An attractive prince who loves me and saved an ornery chicken to keep as a pet?

Giggling quietly, she floated down the hall alongside her mate, loving every minute of how her life had turned out. Every ounce of heartbreak was worth it if it meant getting to this moment with the love of her life.

* * *

Roman sat in the chair beside his and Violet’s bed, watching his mate sleep. The sheer happiness he’d felt today overwhelmed him. Nightmares didn’t keep him awake tonight. Elation did. Like if he slept, he’d miss something great with her.

“Roman,” War said, breaking into Roman’s thoughts.

Roman sat up straight. War let him know when he was on his way to Roman and Violet’s home, but he’d never connected in the middle of the night. “What’s wrong?”

“Vivian is near the capital,” he replied gravely, sending Roman’s anger into overdrive. “I spotted her earlier and followed her.”

Roman was already moving to get dressed. “Is she with anyone?” He didn’t want to leave Violet alone, but no safer place existed than their small fortress. Even if someone killed the guards, the guards didn’t have a key. Roman or Violet were the only two with keys, and only they could let people, including War, inside, so long as they remembered to lock the gate when they came and went.

“No.”

Kissing the top of Violet’s head, Roman gathered his daggers and set off to find War. “Where are you?”

“Deep in the jungle. You won’t reach us before sunrise. I can try to corral her toward Saltu, but I fear that would include bloodshed.”

“Fuck.” Think, Roman. “Does she know you’re following her?”

“Hard to tell.” War paused. “You should be proud of your generals and her father. They trained her well.”

“Not the time,” Roman replied wryly. “Leave her and stay with Violet at all times when I’m not around. She’s following her sister, but if she thinks someone is on to her, she will retreat and regroup later.” Roman continued outside, locking the door behind him. “Meet me in the council chambers.”

* * *

War’s imposing presence lifted from the air. Vivian knew he wouldn’t hurt her, even if Roman told him to, unless she actively attacked someone.

The cut on her hand smarted, and she shook it out. One of the rebels’ swords had caught her across the knuckles at the border fight. He’d received a sword through the gut for his efforts.

If they got to Violet before Vivian, they’d kill her. Vivian hated Violet, and she hated herself for it. Resentment devoured affection, and watching people fawn over delicate little Violet while simultaneously expecting Vivian to be strong and controlled at all times had nurtured resentment like milk to a babe.

All Vivian had to do was get Violet alone, give her the sleeping tonic, and take her to the rebels herself. Then she’d be safe, and Vivian could reclaim her place on the throne before that bitch she’d once considered a friend could dig her claws into Roman.

A new enmity fueled by something more powerful than hate wound around Vivian’s veins like an ivy over a stone wall. Everything was Titus’ fault. How foolish she’d been falling for his act. For years. Every word out of his mouth since they were kids had been a lie.

The day he’d ran to her sister’s side when Vivian accidentally hit her with her wooden sword should have alerted her to his schemes, but she’d been a foolish kid. She’d believed he’d liked her. They’d grown from children to teenagers to adults together.

She’d watched his light hair turn dark, his eyes melt from hazel to brown, his gangly, boyish build grow strong. She thought they’d fallen in love together, but she was nothing but a pawn.

A foolish, pissed off pawn.