I was so far out of my depths that it wasn’t even funny. I could hardly breathe. I felt like I was stuck under the ocean, doggy paddling toward the surface.
But I wasn’t in the ocean. I was sitting in a large, lovely old room in a comfortable chair looking out at a gorgeous view.
The memory of Trip’s body flitted back through my mind. I could still feel his hands against my skin, his lips against my neck, the way he handled me and took me. The way he made my body feel.
That was the good part. That was the part I wanted. In that moment, I had called him my king, and I’d absolutely meant it. He could have taken me any time, any place.
Until that man showed up and destroyed whatever good feelings I’d had. He attacked us when we were at our most vulnerable, and I couldn’t stop thinking about his disgusting face every time I imagined what it felt like to be with Trip.
He’d completely ruined that. He’d taken that moment and destroyed it. I hated him for trying to kill us, but I could never forgive him for destroying that intimacy.
I understood people did things like that. He was probably incredibly misguided and thought killing Trip would save the country. I might have been sympathetic if all I knew about the situation was that a bunch of democratic people wanted to overthrow a dictator.
But Trip wasn’t a tyrant, and these democrats were a bunch of violent assholes. That guy just had no clue which side of history he was on.
And ultimately, that didn’t matter. It wasn’t my country. But Trip could mean something to me, although now things felt broken.
There was a knock at my door as I sat there stewing in my own misery.
“Come in,” I called out, assuming it would be Maximillian again.
Trip stepped inside. “Bryce,” he said.
I looked up. He grinned at me and nodded to the tray in his hands. “Hungry?”
I frowned. “Not really, no.”
“Max said you haven’t eaten.”
“Does the king usually do room service?”
“Only when he’s hungry, too.”
“You haven’t eaten either?”
“I’m not exactly hungry for food,” he said, grinning.
I sighed. Trip looked incredible as always. He had on his formal suit, which was tailored perfectly to his muscular body. The stubble growing on his chin and cheeks made him look gorgeous.
“Okay, fine,” I said.
“Get in bed and undress.”
“I meant okay to the food.”
“Oh,” he said, smirking. “Damn.” He walked over and put the tray down on the table. It had bread, meats, cheeses, and a little bowl of soup.
“Traditional Starklandian lunch,” he said. “Local breads and cheeses, some smoked pig and cow, plus this special bean soup that we use as a dip, basically.”
I nodded, not feeling hungry. “Looks good.”
“Go ahead.”
Trip took a piece of bread, dunked it in the soup, and started eating. I wanted to be polite, so I did the same thing.
And I sure as hell was glad I did. It was delicious, rich and earthy, with some spices I couldn’t even begin to identify. The bread itself was incredible, crunchy on the outside and perfectly fluffy on the inside.
“Holy shit,” I said through a mouthful. “This is amazing.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, grinning.
“I mean, thanks.”
“The chef here is impressive. He doesn’t get to cook for the king very often, so he goes all out when he does.”
“Tell him I was impressed.”
He laughed, taking a bite of some cheese. “Sure, though I doubt he’ll care much if some random American girl likes his cooking.”
“He should care,” I said. “I’m awesome.”
“Yes, you are.”
We ate for a minute or two in silence. The cheese was delicious, smooth and creamy and sharp all at once. The meat was good too, and clearly incredibly fresh.
“Most of this stuff is made right here on the grounds,” Trip said, reading my mind.
“It’s really good.”
He nodded, and then he looked serious for a second. “Look, I’m not here just to feed you.”
“I suspected that.”
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”
I looked away. “I don’t think I want to.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to.”
“What’s there to say?” I asked. “That guy was a prick. You did what you had to do.”
“I know that.”
“It was scary, okay? I keep thinking about it. I keep seeing his face.”
“That sort of thing won’t happen again,” Trip said. “I promise.”
I stared at him, and for some reason I believed him. Maybe it was the huge increase in security, or maybe it was the earnest and intense way he was staring at me, but I suddenly felt oddly safe.