The King's Captive Virgin

Frustration bit hard, forcing him to grit his teeth. He was hardly about to demand that she strip. Because wasn’t that what she wanted? Wasn’t she playing her part in a honey trap? Wasn’t the sexual undertone to every word spoken between them part of her plan?

He’d watched her shoot down that doctor who’d asked her on a date with the coolness of an ice queen. The poor guy had been so transfixed by her he hadn’t even noticed his King standing at a little distance just behind her. He could understand the man’s focus. She made it impossible to pay attention to anything else when she was in the room, with the dazed sensuality of her wide-eyed gaze and parted-lips pout. It was a wonder there hadn’t been any medical malpractice cases at the hospital.

So he’d keep the lights on low and not let himself be blinded by her exquisite features. He needed information from her—that was all. He refused to be taken in by her manipulative flirtation or her challenges.

He led her down the darkened corridors, not taking her to the formal meeting room as he’d planned. He needed more privacy than that, and he needed the control he felt in his personal quarters. He had years of self-imposed restraint behind him—this meeting with her would be entirely manageable.

‘Are you taking me to the dungeons?’

And there it was—another sultry challenge to his control. Her breathy voice prodded his simmering anger. She had no reason to defy him if she wasn’t guilty. Her attempt wasn’t going to work the way she wanted it to.

‘As I have already said,’ he answered softly, ‘I’ll use whatever methods are required to extract all information.’

He felt her slight misstep, as if she were shocked. As if she were afraid he really was going to take her to a torture chamber. Another ripple of awareness swept over him and he gritted his teeth harder. Oh, she was so very skilled, with those sensual words and those eyes, while somehow sending a blush of innocence and naivety sweeping over every inch of her luminous skin.

He stepped aside for her to enter his suite ahead of him. He watched her glance about the dimly lit room, her mouth held firm, her shoulders tense as she looked everywhere but at him.

Irritated that he ached for her attention, he snapped his first question. ‘You went with Damon Gale to the ball. Why?’

She turned to stare at him briefly.

‘Just answer,’ he growled. He had no patience left for her games.

She glanced at the dark-toned painting hanging on the wall rather than addressing him directly. ‘He introduced me to a couple of medical technology investors and a robotics researcher.’

Giorgos frowned. So it had been a business meeting? He didn’t think so. ‘And to return the favour that night you introduced him to Eleni?’

Wariness bloomed in her eyes. ‘Princess Eleni wasn’t there.’

‘She was—and you introduced them.’

Kassiani shook her head. ‘She wasn’t there. I didn’t see her.’ She puffed out a breath. ‘I heard that she was unwell—that’s why she wasn’t at the ball. And I never would have presumed to speak with her even if she had been. She’s the Princess.’

Giorgos paused. Veracity rang clear in her voice like the echo of a pure bell.

Disconcerted, he chose another angle. ‘But you told Damon when he could find Eleni at the hospital?’

Damon had returned to Palisades for a number of short visits since the ball. And he’d been to the hospital each time. She flushed and her gaze dropped. She couldn’t deny that.

Rage gripped him and he tensed, holding himself back from shaking her. ‘You told him. And then he took her.’

Her jaw dropped and she lifted her long lashes, turning a stunned look upon him. ‘Took her?’

‘Where?’ He stepped closer, no longer caring about protocol and personal space and not buying into her plan. ‘Where did he take her?’

‘Eleni’s missing?’

‘Don’t act as if you don’t know.’ He grabbed her upper arms, unable to hold back a second longer. He needed her to realise how serious this was.

Needed to feel her skin.

It was soft and silky and instantly he wanted to touch more.

‘What was the plan?’ he asked harshly, restraining his wayward thoughts. ‘We know they’ve gone on his boat. Where is it going? Where is he taking her?’

‘What do you mean, they’ve gone on his boat?’

Kassiani’s soulful eyes were wide and her kissable lips parted in surprise.

‘Are you saying Eleni isn’t here?’

‘Tell me everything,’ he growled, somehow pulling her closer still.

‘I don’t know anything.’

Frustration bubbled over. How did she dare to be so heartbreakingly beautiful as she looked up at him with those passionate eyes and lied to him? How could she have the face of an angel but the soul of a liar and a cheat? How could she manipulate her sensuality to ensnare her victims?

‘Sleep with lots of the surgeons, do you?’ he snarled at her.

She flinched, but kept her gaze trained on him. He stilled, watching anger supersede that other undefined emotion in her molten brown eyes.

‘You have no right to question me about my personal life,’ she said with cool dignity. ‘That’s harassment. Whatever your problem is, it has nothing to do with me.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ He had the feeling it had everything to do with her.

But she was right. He shouldn’t have asked her that. He wanted to cut out his tongue for that stupid lapse in control. Wasn’t it exactly what she’d been pushing him to with her mention of chains and dungeons and torture? Wasn’t this underlying sexual element to their conversation exactly what she’d planned?

He’d fallen into her trap.

He released her instantly. He shouldn’t have crossed that boundary. He always kept his distance and discretion, never mixing women into his public life. At least not since he’d been crowned and had determined to prove himself to those disapproving courtiers who’d blamed him—rightly—for his father’s premature death.

But he’d been off balance from the moment he’d seen her image on that screen. He was thunderingly furious—how could he have got so distracted? His sister was alone out there—pregnant—and yet he couldn’t concentrate on finding her because all he could think about was how stunning this woman was. All he felt was this appalling urge to touch Kassiani more. To wreak his revenge—and bury his guilt—in the most pleasurable of ways. To have her surrender everything to him—her information and then her body.

He jerked back, releasing her to reassert his teetering self-control. Clearly it had been too long since his last affair.

‘Tell me about the night of the ball.’

Her tongue touched her pillowy lips. Giorgos turned completely away, unable to bear looking at her a second longer. He ran his hand through his hair as a hot wave of anger engulfed him. Determined to dispel the claustrophobic feeling, he jerkily stripped out of his suit jacket and wrenched off his tie. He saw her gaze follow the ribbon of silk as he threw it across the room to a low chair.

‘I barely know Damon. There’s nothing I can tell you,’ she answered, still watching as he unclasped his cufflinks and rolled his stiff shirtsleeves to three-quarters. Her eyes widened as he worked and her skin pinkened again.

‘Eleni was in disguise at that ball.’ He ground out the shocking fact he’d discovered. ‘Deliberately. She went to meet him and you helped them.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Damon only decided to go at the last minute, when he realised that it would help me. Because he could get me those introductions. He hadn’t planned to meet with the Princess. There’s no conspiracy there.’

‘Wrong,’ Giorgos argued obstinately. ‘He planned this. He’s taken advantage of her.’

‘Perhaps she took advantage of him?’

Never. ‘She’s alone out there with that philandering jerk while her fiancé is here, waiting for her.’

‘The fiancé you selected for her,’ Kassiani needled. ‘And perhaps Eleni seduced Damon? Mightn’t that be possible?’

Because that was what she would do? She was a vixen—so certain of her sensual power. But Eleni had been raised in a world with vastly different expectations and duties.

‘You might be a mistress of seduction, but my sister is not the kind of woman you are.’

She actually coloured more, and he heard another hitch in her breath. Why did he have such a visceral sexual response to this woman? Especially when he was certain she was toying with him.

Angrily he strode across the room to switch the lights on full, needing to shatter the thickened atmosphere with its sense of intimacy.

She blinked and then looked about the room again with undisguised disapproval. ‘This is one of your meeting chambers?’

‘Actually, this is part of my private suite.’

She turned those stunningly soulful eyes on him, they were now widened with something akin to horror. ‘You choose to live like this?’

Like what? He rested his hands on his hips and stared at her, daring her to voice her sultry criticism.

‘It’s like a mausoleum in here.’ She waved a graceful hand in the air. ‘Impersonal dry paintings, uncomfortable antique furniture...’ She turned a sharp gaze on him. ‘And a cold, controlled atmosphere.’

She was trying to bait him, but it wasn’t going to work. ‘This palace has been impeccably maintained,’ he said shortly.

‘I can see that. There’s not a speck of dust. Not a painting out of place. The whole palace appears perfect. Just like you.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s all a gilt facade—there is nothing beneath. No story. No soul.’

‘After five minutes alone with your King you have come to such a flattering snap judgement?’ He growled caustically. ‘What makes you so certain I’m cold?’

Who did she think she was to insult him? Her daring smacked of manipulation once again. And the worst thing was that it was working. Sensual heat had turned his bones to cinders. All he wanted was to slam her against him so he could assuage the ache of his hard body against her lush softness. God, he wanted her surrender. For the first time in a decade he didn’t have complete control of a situation and he wanted to claim some part of it back.

‘Your plans for your sister...’ she said, too calmly. ‘You’re not really worried about her—you’re worried about how this all looks.’

He stilled. He didn’t care about her insulting his decor, but she didn’t get to opine on his relationship with Eleni. She didn’t get to question his loyalty. ‘I’m not worried about my sister?’

‘Clearly not,’ she said, dropping the mocking smile. ‘When you’re insisting on marrying her off. You’re using her for royal publicity. This is all about the Nicolaides machine.’

‘This marriage is for her protection,’ he said coldly.

The scepticism in her eyes was like an acid peel on his heart. ‘Protection from what?’ She glanced about the room again. ‘When she lives in a prison like this?’

She made it sound as if it were horrible. ‘You have no idea of the pressure she faces. The relentless public scrutiny. They circle her like sharks.’

The pressures on Eleni were untenable. It was bad enough for him to have to bear, but worse for the women of the family. The judgement was intolerable. The expectations too high.

‘So your answer is to send her from one prison to another?’

‘Royals marry royals,’ he said icily. ‘It is best that way.’ Only those reared within the system had the tolerance and the acceptance.

‘But not you,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re almost a decade older than she is, yet you’re still not married. What about your well-being and protection?’

Oh, he was well aware of his duty, and he had a plan for when the time was right. But he felt Eleni needed security sooner. And he was right.

‘Is it so wrong to want my sister to be happy and well cared for?’

He was incensed by her judgement. She knew nothing of what life in this palace was like. She knew nothing about his sister. Eleni was an innocent, naive young woman who’d been sheltered her entire life while at the same time juggling immense pressure. Whereas the woman before him now was more than worldly, more than aware of her sensual power. She knew exactly how to wield it. She’d brought a whole hospital full of doctors to their knees—and the horrendous uniform only served to expedite their stripping fantasies.

‘By marrying a playboy jerk who was never going to be faithful to her?’

Yeah, she knew nothing. ‘You shouldn’t read the tabloids,’ he mocked, unconsciously stepping closer. ‘Nothing of what they print is true.’

‘So nothing of what they say about you is true either?’ she fired back, stepping up to face him square-on. ‘You’re not honourable or kind or devoted to your duty?’ She laughed bitterly. ‘Are you saying that behind your perfect reputation there’s a monster?’

‘I don’t mind being a monster if by that you mean I’m doing the right thing. Your brother has stolen the most precious thing in my life. He has hurt her. He will pay.’ He was beyond angry—he was hurt.

‘The most precious “thing”? That’s what she is to you? A commodity to be bartered? A possession?’

‘It is a figure of speech,’ he snapped. ‘Nothing and no one is more important to me than Eleni. She is my responsibility. She is—’ He broke off.

He didn’t want to admit such personal truths to this shallow Siren. Didn’t want to confess that he didn’t want Eleni to make a mistake that could have the same consequences.

He glowered at Kassiani, somehow right in front of her now, as he tried to stay in control. ‘You do not get to judge my family. You do not get to judge me.’

‘I do when you’re punishing me for something you think my half-brother has done. Something I don’t even know. Where’s the fairness in that?’

Her anger was unwarranted. ‘In what way am I “punishing” you?’

‘By bringing me here against my will.’

‘Just give me the information I need. It’s simple.’

‘There’s nothing I can tell you. I barely know him.’

‘There’s plenty you can tell me. You’re choosing not to.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘No wonder Eleni ran away from here. From you.’

He braced himself against the flinch her words caused. ‘Because...?’

‘Because of your inability to listen. You say I don’t get to judge? But that’s all you do. You don’t need me here—you’ve already worked out everything on your own and you only want me to confirm your theories. You’re not actually willing to consider an alternative, let alone the truth. I bet you haven’t even considered Eleni’s own wishes. Do you even know what they are?’

Her accusations had hit a nerve. Rage and regret clouded his reason, making the last of his self-control splinter.

‘When did you last talk to her about her marriage?’ Kassiani pressed, clearly aware that she’d struck a raw spot. ‘Did you talk to her at all?’

‘Be quiet!’ he snapped, reaching out to grab her hips and make her listen. ‘You say I’m not willing to consider an alternative?’ he jeered. ‘What alternative are you suggesting—with your delays, your attempts not just to distract but to provoke me? Is this what you want me to do? Retaliate?’

He hauled her that last inch closer, until she was pressed against him. Until there was no denying the reaction he had to her.

‘Fine,’ he snarled. ‘Win what you want. But I want to know why?’

Kassie couldn’t speak. She had no idea why. This could have been settled so simply in a five-minute quiet conversation, but the second he’d appeared before her she’d reacted to him with such intensity.

The need to push back against his arrogant orders had been visceral. She’d operated not on thought, but on instinct. And the terrible thing was that her instincts were telling her to push in another way now. To push closer still. It was terrifying, but her physical awareness of him was so acute it almost hurt. His thighs were pressed against hers, and his rock-hard abs and his masculine arousal were evident between them.

Shocking. But it was more than that. It was thrilling.

His green eyes gleamed as he towered over her. Having shed the jacket and tie he looked less civilised—more like the man she’d somehow known him to be. With that wildness uncaged, with the constraints of polite society vanished, he was all ferocity. All power. She’d suspected that he was built, but this was ridiculous.

A feeling deep inside her began to unfurl—one that had been so tightly bound that its snaking, unfettered release was too good. Irresistible. Her pulse pounded loud in her ears as her blood raced like quicksilver.

‘Is this what you want?’ His voice was hoarse as he asked again, his muscles straining.

‘No...’ But her voice was so constricted only a whisper emerged.

She’d never wanted a man close like this. Holding her. Caressing her whole body with just a breath. And yet deep within there was a softening, even as another tension coiled tightly. For once she wasn’t cold—not frigid with distaste and stiffly rejecting the contact. No, right now she was burning with a fever such as she’d never known. And the only way to ease it even slightly was to rub against the press of his body. He was both the source and the cure for this contagion. His arms were tight bands about her—the welcome bars of a prison she’d never have believed she’d ever wish for.

His hand cupped the side of her face, holding her so she couldn’t turn her gaze from his. Powerful, searching, his eyes held not just hostility now, but arousal too. Anger laced with lust. She was transfixed, but not frozen. She’d gone from feeling nothing to feeling everything. To yearning for something she’d never before wanted or even understood.

‘Me neither,’ he gritted. ‘I don’t want to stand here. I don’t want to hold you. I don’t want to want you.’

And all the while his gaze saw right through her. All the while his head lowered, bringing his mouth nearer to hers.

‘You’re a liar,’ she whispered shakily.

‘So are you.’

She could have said no again. She could have turned her head away. But she did neither of those things. If anything she tilted her chin at him, meeting him in the moment he put his mouth to hers.

For a split-second old instincts surfaced and she stiffened, her body screaming its rejection. But the pressure of his mouth changed immediately. He softened, eased, and ultimately coaxed until her eyes closed. In the velvety blackness it was as if she’d been drugged and was now drowning in a warmth of sensation and bliss. His hands drifted delightfully, sweeping up her back—holding her but not forcing her against him. No, she was the one who pressed closer.

Muscles... Yes, she’d known he had muscles. But never in her life had she wanted to rub against a man the way she did now. Without thinking, almost without realising, she opened her mouth. His tongue slid between her parted lips, stroking lightly, teasing, before pulling back to trace the full pout of her lower lip. She felt the gentle throb of her pulse there, so highly sensitised she almost moaned. His lips covered hers again and his tongue strayed deeper—piercing, stroking the cavern of her mouth. She mewled as he caressed her more gently, more intimately than any man had. Licking. Sucking. Taking.

Her response was so sudden, so profound, that she began to tremble. Her fingers curled against the fine cotton of his shirt. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric. The heat that melded with her own. Something shifted deep inside her. Something irrevocable. And overwhelming.

It was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. Those other few had been sloppy or hard, and always quick, because they’d simply left her cold. This was anything but cold.

A great wave of sensation welled within her until she literally rose with it—reaching up onto her tiptoes, blindly stretching her arms over his shoulders, locking her hands about his neck, holding him as close as he held her. She flattened her breasts against his hard chest—her full, heavy breasts, with their achingly tight nipples—and the friction against his unyielding strength was devastating.

Something else swirled—a new kind of hunger that pushed her to rock her hips against his. She moaned as he immediately held her with stronger hands. Every cell in her body sang as he braced himself to absorb the strain of her body and she writhed with her need to get closer still to his hard strength. He sealed his mouth to hers again and he held her hips to grind against her.

For the first time in her life, Kassie had only one word in her mind, chanting over and over.

More.

More. More. More...

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOUR HIGHNESS—’

The door opened and Giorgos released her so quickly Kassie almost fell. Instantly his hand shot out and gripped her arm to support her. His grip was hard. So were his eyes—like banked furnaces—and his gaze lasered through her. Assessing. Judging.

Dazed, she could see his thoughts racing. But she had no idea how the man could possibly think after experiencing that...that...

She recovered her balance in another moment and surreptitiously tugged her arm free, fighting to catch her breath quietly. Mortification flooded her. She’d just been caught in the King’s arms like some shameless courtesan. But at the same time the interruption was welcome, because she had no idea where that might have gone if they hadn’t been broken apart like that. She’d never done that or felt that—she’d been right to be wary of him. He was dangerous. And fascinating.

Sensation swirled around her body and embarrassment blushed over every inch of her skin. She realised the King was still staring at her, a thunderstruck expression on his face.

‘I apologise, Your Highness, but we have found—’

‘What?’ He whirled away to bark at the man.

‘These were hidden in the Princess’s wardrobe.’ The man held out some fabric and what looked like a knotted blue wig.

From the frown on his face it was clearly something Giorgos recognised. Kassie suspected the truth now—the woman in the blue wig—Eleni’s disguise.

‘Leave it on the table,’ Giorgos snapped. ‘And close the door behind you.’

The man’s face was completely blank as he swiftly left the room.

‘You’re searching her private things?’ Kassie whipped up her scorn, desperate to put space between them.

‘My sister is missing,’ he seethed. ‘Of course I am searching her rooms for clues. I’ll do whatever I have to do to find her.’

Her pulse thundered. ‘And that’s what that kiss was?’ He’d thought he could seduce her into spilling all the secrets she didn’t even hold?

‘Sorry—was I too gentle? You wanted the chains?’ He suddenly smiled—a wicked, dangerous smile, as if he knew something she didn’t. ‘You’re the one fixated on becoming my prisoner. You know what that tells me about you?’

She glared at him. She didn’t want to know what he thought of her now. She just wanted to get out of here—immediately—so she could try to assess and control the incoherent emotions coursing through her body.

‘You obviously know everything. Doubtless you’ve read some dossier...’

‘Actually, there was a lot left out,’ he drawled.

He truly had a file on her? For how long had he been prying into her life? ‘What have you learned?’

‘You’re the only child of Petra Marron. Your father is John Gale—though he doesn’t acknowledge you as his daughter. You grew up in a small village an hour north of Palisades city. You excelled at school, and studied for your physiotherapy degree part-time after your mother became unwell with cancer. Upon graduation you took a job at the hospital and have been there ever since. Your employment record is exemplary. Your patients speak highly of you. But your social media accounts don’t show much in the way of relationships.’