“He is not! What makes you say that?”
Lan gave her an incredulous stare, as if wondering how she could miss the big picture. “He put the moves on you.”
“He did no such thing. He’s never once tried.”
“Persuading you to come home with him and saying he’d be jealous if you dated the soccer player…yeah, his approach is mostly subtle, but he’s still hitting on you. Even if he would never do anything about it, he’s married, and that makes him a douche nozzle.”
“He’s just trying to help…in his way. His relationship with Yasmin is a little complicated.”
They’d gotten married far too young, and she wasn’t sure Yas was really ready to be a mom. “She’s his wife. He should never talk to another woman that way. If I was married, I wouldn’t.” He stared down at her, his expression soft and searching. She’d never seen him look so gentle. “Don’t let them sway you from getting what you need to heal. They’re trying to use you to buffer their drama. You don’t need that, darlin’.”
He hovered so close that she felt the heat radiating off his body. All it would take to press her lips to his was one simple lift to her toes. Then she’d be brushing her mouth against his and know what it felt like to kiss a man again. She hadn’t kissed anyone in years it seemed. No soft brushing of her mouth against another’s. No arms that wound protectively around her. Just pain and terror. Memories flashed through her head of vicious fingers tangling in her hair, forcing her head back until her neck felt like it would break.
“You just went white. Are you all right?” Landon reached out for her, but she wouldn’t be able to endure his touch, not when she felt so dirty.
They could put her in a designer gown, but she was still the girl who knew what it meant to be subjugated. She was still the dumb animal who had watched as the women around her were tortured, raped, and snuffed out.
“Don’t touch me.”
He jerked back. “I won’t. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. Take a deep breath. You’re here in Bezakistan. You’re at the palace. No one will ever hurt you here. Me, Dane, and Coop will make damn sure of it. Take a long breath. I’ll do it with you.”
He breathed in, his chest filling with air. He was so calm and kind that she found herself following his directions. When he reached for her this time, she let him take her hand. He held it until she stopped shaking.
God, she wanted him to hold her. She wanted what Piper had. She wanted to be surrounded by men who loved her, who accepted her…who could want her even after all that had happened.
Her captors had ensured she would never have any of that.
She gently pulled her hand from his, hating that moment they were no longer connected palm to palm. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”
“Talk to me, Alea. Tell me what just went through your head.”
She couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to. She was never going to talk about it, especially to the three men she very nearly idolized. She was never going to tell anyone about her shame. “That’s ‘princess’ or ‘Your Highness,’ please. It isn’t seemly for you to call me by my first name.”
Alea needed distance before she crumbled. In that panicked second, she didn’t know how else to get it.
But when she saw his face in the next moment, she cared very much. Her heart ached as Landon drew back, his shoulders squaring and his eyes icing over. “I apologize, Your Highness. Like I said, I’m just a dumb grunt. Sometimes I forget my place. Perhaps we should go back to the party.”
The urge to apologize and tell him everything swamped her. The impulsive need to bring Dane and Cooper in and confess everything, release all her pain to them, tempted her. But the past was her private hell. They were not only protectors, but kind ones, and she couldn’t take advantage of that, imagining that her own feelings for them in any way mirrored theirs for her.
She couldn’t have them, and they wouldn’t want her—even if she was brave enough to try.
Landon opened the door, and music spilled out into the night. Alea followed him back into the ballroom. Instantly, friends and family surrounded her, yet she still felt utterly alone.
* * * *
Dane Mitchell cursed under his breath as Alea walked into the ballroom followed by a sullen Landon. To an outsider, Lan’s frown wouldn’t look any different than normal, but Dane had been around the Texan long enough to know when he was in a real shit-kicker of a mood. Lan’s shoulders were too square and tight, his movements lacking their normal grace, to be anything but pissed off. Dane had little doubt it was something the prickly princess had said.
“Dayum, what do you think happened out there?” Coop’s voice came over Dane’s earpiece. “Lan’s doing his whole ‘stony soldier’ routine.”
“No idea.” But something had happened, and it had affected Alea, too. She’d pressed her mouth into a grim line and looked close to tears.
Stopping at the edge of the ballroom, she drew in a breath and collected herself. Oh, it looked to most as if she was merely smoothing her dress down and checking her hair in one of the ornate mirrors that lined the hallway, but Dane knew better. If she’d listen, he’d tell her that she looked stunning. He’d tried to tell her about a hundred times that she was the most gorgeous woman on the face of the f**king planet, but she always demurred. He would have comforted her, but she’d just shut him down and push him away. Same as always.
“You don’t think Lan would have suggested that she find the rest of her bodice, do you? Because we all agreed that was likely a damn fine way to lose our balls,” Coop joked.
When she’d first walked out of her room earlier in the evening, it had been right there on the tip of his tongue to order her back inside to find a dress that actually covered her br**sts. Luckily Coop had known he was about to unleash his inner Dominant on a woman who wasn’t ready to handle the demand. Coop had slapped him on the back, shooting him a glance that warned Dane he was about to make an idiot of himself. Into the silence, Coop had loudly proclaimed to Alea that she looked beautiful. She’d taken that to mean her dress, then explained that someone named Narciso had designed it. Dane didn’t give a shit. Narciso needed to learn how to sew a proper top into his wretchedly expensive evening gowns.
Lan had just kind of drooled.