Page 10 of Royal Salvation

Inside he headed for his room as he did most afternoons and she worked at the table. Opening her laptop, she logged in to her emails and saw a pile to deal with. Before she tackled that mountain, she wanted a cup of tea. Brewing the kettle, she went towards the room Justice used and paused a second before knocking once.

The door flew open and Lucía gasped at the sight before her. Justice was standing in just a towel over his lower half, water dripping down his perfectly sculpted chest in rivulets that she wanted to follow with her tongue. Her eyes moved lower, past rippling abs toward a happy trail that made women around the world weep, and the thick, corded V muscle pointing the way to manna from heaven.

As her eyes hit his crotch she gasped louder at the clear evidence of his erection, the towel doing little to hide what was an impressive bulge. Snapping out of her sex induced stupor, her eyes shot to his smirking face.

“Something I can help you with, Princess?”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks, and she fought the urge to cover her face with her hands, instead, straightening her neck and acting as the royal she was. “Not at all. I came to see if you wanted some tea.”

“Some tea would be lovely, Lucía. Now if you’re finished staring, I have something I need to take care of.”

His words made a heaviness settle in her lower belly; the implication was clear that he was going to be taking care of that erection just two doors away from where she sat.

“You should put some clothes on.” Her voice was prudish and snappy as she walked away, her head so high it was a wonder she didn’t trip over her own feet, but Lucía was classier than that.

“And maybe you should take that stick from up your ass and find a way to ease some of your own tension. Unless you want us to do that together.”

Lucía had never been spoken to the way Justice spoke to her and she hated to admit that it turned her on, making her desperate to take him up on his offer. She wouldn’t of course, because she had a feeling once that door was open there would be no closing it. “Go to hell.”

“Already there, angel.”

The slamming door made her fume as she busied herself making tea and a sandwich she knew she wouldn’t eat. Her emotions were too all over the place to eat but she needed to do something to keep her from marching back in that room and climbing that perfectly annoying, sexy asshole like a tree.

Taking the tea and the plate holding her sandwich to the table, she took a moment to compose herself, taking in the beauty of the garden the breakfast nook overlooked. This place was her sanctuary, her place to be herself without the stress of the outside world.

Tomorrow they’d fly to Spain where she’d once more be Princess Lucía, second in line to the throne, on display for all to see. She’d don her uniform and do what was expected of her because that was her job.

Shaking away the annoyance and tension the encounter with Justice had caused, she sipped the camomile tea and let it work its calming magic on her. She felt rather than saw his presence as Justice came into the room, thankfully fully dressed and went about making himself some lunch.

Ignoring him, Lucía began to go through her emails from her work account. She answered each of them, confirming schedules and turning down offers while accepting others. Justice was handling the logistics of her trip, her only role was to turn up and take pictures. Using her fake identity, the same one she’d used since the start of her career, gave her freedom that her real one wouldn’t.

Opening the latest email, she scanned the contents and found nothing except a link to a video. She hesitated for a moment, she didn’t recognise the sender and was worried the link would have a virus that would screw her system. Deciding it was probably safe as it had got through her fire walls, she clicked to open it.

A grainy image came on the screen, and she leaned closer, squinting to make out what it was. As the screen came into focus Lucía pulled away, bile sliding up her throat and horror swimming in her mind.

A young man, of no more than twenty, was tied to a chair in a dirty, squalid building. His face was filthy and a once-white rag was stuffed in his mouth. His clothes were torn and his feet were bare and almost black with dirt. It was an image she’d seen before, not this one, but many like it as she’d photographed the war in the Middle East.

But this wasn’t an image, this was a video and as she watched, two men in dark clothing walked on screen, their faces covered by ski masks. Her gasp must have caught Justice’s attention as he stood and walked quickly toward her, but her eyes never left the screen.

“What is it?”

Lucía pointed at the screen. “I was sent this.”

His warmth behind her gave her a feeling of security as they watched the man face the camera and speak.

“Do not come here or this will be you, Your Highness.”

Then the man lifted what looked like a scythe and swung it at the young man’s neck. Before the horror could translate, Justice slammed the laptop closed, cutting off the final evil act from her sight.

Turning her chair to face him, Justice looked her in the eye, his face a mask of calm fury. “Who sent that?”

“I don’t know. It was sent to my work email.” She could hear the horror in her voice at the fear and despair on the boy’s face and the knowledge that he’d die clear in his eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Was it real?”

Justice crouched in front of her his hands covering her cold ones. “I don’t know, angel, but I’m going to find out.”