Masked Prince - Nikolai Andrew Page 0,41

is literally nothing more important than what I’m doing in there right now. So come back in six hours. Or ten.”

Erik shook his head.

“It’s the King,” he said, looking serious and somber. “He’s failing fast. He asked to see you. Demanded, actually.”

Fuck. I pinched my temples hard with my thumb and forefinger, trying to clear my mind. I’d been so deep into Iris, I’d fucking forgotten all about the rest of the world, including—I was ashamed to admit it—my father’s illness. When I was inside her, it felt like the world stopped. But clearly, it hadn’t.

“Alright. Wait here.”

I shut the door and went back to Iris, making sure to tell her with my eyes, with my body, that I was back to being just me—I was her owner, first and always, but sometimes I was also that fucking lovesick guy who watched her from afar for all those years.

She got it in an instant. I loved that about her—the way she understood without having to be told.

“Are you okay?” Was all she asked.

I grabbed the keys to undo her chains.

“It’s my father. He’s unwell. I need to go see him. I’m sorry, baby.”

Now her arms were free and she wrapped them around me, pulling me close.

“It’s okay. I’ll be right here if that’s what you want.”

Fuck, she was the sweetest. I let myself take comfort in the softness of her cheek against mine, the way her hair got tangled in my stubble.

“I never want you to leave. Never.”

“Then I won’t. I promise. I’ll be here when you return. Someday I want to know all of you and your family. When you are ready, my King.” She pulled away from the embrace, her eyes warm and kind. “Now go. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And yes, I want you to know everything as well. In time.” I replied, my heart fucking melting in my chest. “Be back as soon as I can.”

It took all my fucking strength to turn away from her, but somehow I managed to do it. I made sure the door was open to the room where I’d bolted the bed. I brought her a glass of wine, two ripe apricots, and her robe, and gave her one last long, greedy kiss. Then I ripped myself away. I grabbed my shirt and my boots and left the dungeon. Erik was waiting for me and he gave me a look, mischievous and knowing.

“Well, well,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Asshole. I buttoned my britches and adjusted my balls, then tied my boots and ran my hand through my hair before I turned to face him. For one long second, I just stared him straight in the eye.

And then I said, “I need you to watch her. Make sure she’s safe.”

For all the ribbing we gave one another, he always had my back. Fucking always.

“You know I will,” Erik said. “I’ll protect her like she’s my own.”

The words were well-meant, I knew that, but they caused a roar of jealousy inside me. He and I had known each other for years, but that didn’t fucking matter. When it came to Iris, nothing else mattered—not even friendship.

I got in close to his face and grabbed his shoulder as I said, “I love you like a brother, but if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you. We clear?”

Erik sniffed hard, laughing but not letting me really see it.

“We’re clear, fuckhead. You know I got you.”

I did. And I knew Iris would be safe with him by the door. And taking some peace at least in that, I hauled ass back to my quarters to grab my mask, and then on to see my father.

My father was worse than before. Way fucking worse. An old nursemaid now sat beside him, holding his hand, and looking down into her lap with grief.

“Fuck,” I said as I ripped my mask off and went to him. “Father. Can you hear me?”

His skin was pale and thin, like paper. He stirred when he heard my voice though, and opened his eyes slowly. They were rimmed with red, and the whites of his eyes were tinged with yellow.

“There’s my boy.”

The nurse excused herself with a bow and left us alone. I took my father’s cold hand in mine and blew out a long breath.

“I hate to see you in pain. I fucking hate it.”

He cleared his dry throat and tried to sit up. I helped him and situated his pillow behind his back. As I did, I noticed