“She will be. Has the threat been neutralized?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen that many in a random ambush before.” His calculating gaze looked out the window. “Vivian escaped.”
Roman glanced under the bed at Violet. She’d turned her head to face War, and Roman lowered his voice. “Why the fuck was Vivian with them?”
Ares grabbed one of the spare cloths and wiped his hands. “I don’t know, but she fought against them with us.”
27
After a long night’s rest in an inn located in the border village, Violet gradually returned to herself. Roman hadn’t left her side since carrying her away from the battle, nor had War. Their steady presence soothed her soul in a way she’d not experienced before.
By the time they’d resumed their travels, Violet was a new woman. A traumatized new woman, but new all the same. She sat tucked into Roman’s side in their carriage, the same horses alive and well. Saltu was a week’s ride from the border village they’d stayed the night in, and she wanted nothing more than to be in her own bed to heal in peace.
The top of War’s head bounced in and out of view as he trotted alongside the carriage, his irritation from not fitting inside with them evident.
Roman ran his fingers idly through Violet’s hair. He’d not stopped touching her since last night, as if afraid she would disappear. If she so much tried to shift positions, he tightened his hold.
Eventually, Violet managed to free herself enough to stretch and angle herself toward Roman. “Where is Vivian?”
Bits and pieces of Ares and Roman’s conversation from the night before swam in and out of her memory. She remembered talk of her sister, but not the full context. Shock had rendered her ignorant of her surroundings, something she needed to work on since she had an unlucky streak with rebels.
A dangerous tension filled the carriage, the promise of violence heavy in the air. Roman didn’t scare Violet, but judging by the look on his face, whomever held his ire should say their last goodbyes.
Staring out of the carriage window, Roman ground out, “Your sister disappeared.” When he returned his focus to Violet, the intensity took her aback. “I will find her, and when I do, I will drag her back to Saltu if I must.”
He studied her closely, and when her lips turned down, he continued. “I would have killed Vivian long ago to sever our bond, but I knew losing her would hurt you, no matter how much you two despise each other.”
Violet moved to the bench across from him to face him fully. She had a lot of groveling to do. “I thought when you told the guards to protect their queen that you meant Vivian,” she confessed, feeling lower than dirt. “When they started moving toward her my heart sank. I know you would never do that, but I lost faith in you, and I shouldn’t have.” She shrugged helplessly and whispered, “I’m so sorry. You’ve shown me time and again what I mean to you, and you didn’t deserve my doubt.”
Roman closed the distance between them and crouched down on the carriage floor. “Your adrenaline was high, princess, nor are you trained in battle. It’s difficult to keep your wits about you in situations like that.”
“Don’t,” she said forcefully. “Do not make excuses for me. I never should have doubted you, not even for a second, but I did, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
They sat with her confession heavy in the air until Roman lifted and brushed his lips against hers. “Apology accepted.” Pulling back, his mouthed tipped up into a crooked grin. “But if you’re hellbent on atoning, I know a few ways you can make it up to me.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she burst out laughing.
He made to pull away, but she seized the back of his head and brought him close once more. His mouth moved tentatively against hers, like he’d never been kissed before, but soon he took charge, swiping his tongue against the seam of her lips for entry.
His hand trailed down her neck, sending a sensual shiver across her skin. It continued down her chest, grazing her breast, then teased its way down her side until it reached her hip.
“Violet,” he whispered against her lips, breaking away. “Vivian has never been my queen. She never was going to be. It’s always been you.” He leaned back on his haunches and rolled up the sleeves to his long sleeve linen shirt.
Tattoos of intricate vines filled with flowers wound around his forearms and disappeared under his shirt sleeves. She picked up his arm to inspect them closely. “They’re beautiful. Whoever did these is an incredible art—” The words caught in her throat, and she lifted her gaze to his. “Violets?”
The lines she’d believed were hisfamiliarmark peeked out of the top of his shirt. She undid his buttons to reveal more vines. He’d covered himself in violets. “Why?”
“There’s a violet for every day you were gone,” he confessed, “and more for the days I missed you enough to need the pain as a distraction.”
Heat licked at her skin. She needed him like she’d never needed anything, and before she could chicken out, she reached over and closed both curtains. Grabbing Roman’s shoulders, she indicated for him to stand and pushed him backward onto the opposite cushioned seat. Smiling coyly, she straddled his lap the best she could, never dropping his gaze.
Roman gripped her waist, and the hard length of his cock pressed against her center. He trailed a hand up her side and brushed the underside of her breast with his thumb. The thin fabric of her dress did nothing to hinder the sensation, and she shivered. “I don’t want the first time I have you to be in a carriage,” he said.
Violet leaned forward and kissed him again, pouring everything she felt into it. “I can’t wait. I need you.”
* * *
Something in Roman snapped at the pleading in Violet’s voice. He’d wanted their first time to last hours as he savored every inch of her with his tongue, but he’d deny her nothing. If she wanted to fuck him in a bumpy carriage, he’d happily oblige. Thankfully, all royal carriages, including the one he’d given Violet for her trip, were custom built to accommodate his and his father’s large sizes.
“Lift up,” he commanded in a husky tone he didn’t recognize. Blood pumped straight to his cock, which throbbed against the buttons of his pants. Her chest aligned with his face as she rose to her knees, still straddling him on the bench. “Fuck.”
