His Forbidden Desire Read online

  The final man was leaner, but also large, also dark haired and dark eyed. Did they pick these guys out of a mold? His tux was new, and he wore it with ill grace, as if he’d be more comfortable in different clothing. The only people he’d brought were a couple at his back. The woman was small and wore a dress that would be scandalous in higher society. It was a masterpiece of beads and sheer fabric, leaving large swathes of her body exposed to the gaze of everyone in the room. The man at her side exuded such cold menace, no one had dared look at her twice. He also hadn’t stopped touching her since they walked through the door, his hand brushing the small of her back, her arm, once even the underside of her breast. Their rings pronounced them man and wife, but Cami didn’t need that outward confirmation to know they’d claimed each other. It was there for anyone who cared to look.

  The last competitor was a Hispanic woman who wore a slate gray gown that looked to be the height of couture. She chatted easily with the black woman next to her in a paler gray dress. They spoke softly, and though they were easily the most feminine and delicate of the people in this room, they looked at the others like they were prey.

  Alarm bells pealed through Cami’s head.

  I am out of my league.

  It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

  She smoothed her hands down her gown, feeling very silly and childish in her pastels when everyone else looked like they’d dressed for a different kind of hunt. It would be okay. If they thought she was soft and innocent, they would underestimate her, and that would give her a desperately needed edge.

  Cami snagged another glass of champagne and sipped carefully as she kept an eye on the gathering. The only competitors who spoke to each other were the four gathered on the other side of the room. The four on this side, including her, stood apart. Would it be smart to attempt an alliance?

  No. Too risky.

  If this was a different kind of game, then it might work. Not with the Wild Hunt. They would betray each other at the first opportunity.

  “You’re outmatched, little girl.” His voice curled out of the darkness behind her, low and sinful and downright dangerous.

  It took everything in her not to flinch, not to turn so she wasn’t presenting him with her back. She’d been sure when she took up this position that there was no door behind her. She should have known that this place offered more secrets than readily apparent.

  She took another slow sip of her champagne to buy time. “That remains to be seen.”

  Though he made no sound, he was closer the next time he spoke. She swore she could feel the heat radiating from his large body. “Coming here was a mistake. You might not see it now, but you will before the end of this.”

  Show no fear.

  “I don’t make a habit of pursuing mistakes so pointedly. I’m here because I need to be.” She kept her posture relaxed through sheer force of will. Cami had never been so thankful for growing up in court as she was in that moment. She’d been taught to create an impenetrable polite mask to keep her thoughts from her face, to eliminate the minute tells of her body that could be translated by anyone who cared to look.

  He spoke directly in her ear. “Every time we have this hunt, my sister is named the White Stag. She can’t be caught unless she wants to be.”

  At that, Cami finally turned to face him. He was much closer than she’d expected, but she refused to step back even though they were chest to chest. Or, rather, her face to his chest. She resented him forcing her to crane her neck to see his face, resented him even more when she found his expression bathed in shadow.

  She lifted her chin. “Then I suppose you have nothing to worry about, do you?” Anger made her rash, made her words into blades. “If there has never been a winner, then I couldn’t possibly secure the favor that would bring you home.” Liar, liar, Cami. You have no intention of wasting your favor on that.

  She didn’t care. He pissed her off, and she couldn’t resist the urge to put him back on his heels.

  “That’s what none of you Thalanians seem to understand.” He made a sound perilously close to a growl. “I am home. You’re the one who’s wandered into a wolf’s den, expecting to walk out with every part of you intact.” Luca reached up with one of those massive hands and drew a blunt finger over her bottom lip. “If you’re lucky, you’ll only lose a piece you can go on living without.”

  Cami’s anger dried up. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t pull away. Could barely move her lips against his finger as her question slipped free. “And if I’m not?”

  He dragged that finger down her chin and pressed it unerringly against her heart. “You’ll crawl out of here a broken woman. If you crawl out at all.”

  Her heart kicked against his touch, a warning and something altogether less acceptable. Cami took a slow step back, and Luca let his hand fall back to his side. She shook her head. “You won’t scare me away from this. I wish you’d stop trying.”

  “They always did breed you royals with more good looks than sense. Do you have any idea how fucking breakable you are?”

  If he only knew.

  A quiver worked its way through her, and she didn’t quite have enough mastery over herself to stem it. He saw. Of course he saw. He followed her into the light, a slow stalk that had her tensing, her body clamoring to run or fight because she was definitely in danger and the source of it towered over her, seeming to block out every ray of light in the room. “Give me some room,” she bit out.

  “Plenty of room in this world. All you need to do is get your tight little ass back on the chopper and leave the island. Simple enough that even a sheltered little girl like you can figure it out.”

  He wanted to scare her, to infuriate her.

  To her shame, it worked.

  It would be the easiest thing in the world to do what he wanted. To allow herself to be shuttled back to her plane, to return to the comforting embrace of her country and the palace. To settle back into the cage she’d spent her entire life trapped in. To be Princess Camilla, a woman who never stepped out of line or did anything surprising.

  If she did that, the flame she’d spent five years so carefully nurturing would be snuffed out for good. No more freedom. No more adventure. Nothing but the expected from now until the moment she died, likely of old age after being shuttled away to some comfortable country estate.

  No. Absolutely not.

  She refused.

  She’d worked too hard to get to this moment, and she’d be damned before she let this big brute intimidate her. Cami reclaimed the step she’d taken in retreat, bringing them nearly chest to chest again. “Maybe you find it so easy to shirk from your promises, Luca Nibley, but I take mine seriously.”

  He still looked like he might do exactly what War had threatened and toss Cami over his shoulder, so she went in for the kill, the one thing guaranteed to get him off her back. “Or did you forget that I’m your fiancée? We’ve been promised to each other since we were children.”

  3

  Luca stared down at Camilla, her words ringing through his mind. We’ve been promised to each other since we were children. He hadn’t remembered. Why should he? The years he’d spent in his childhood home, before he was stolen away and shoved into hell, were like something out of a dream. As substantial as mist.

  If she spoke the truth, this was a foolish promise that went back something like twenty-five years. No one in their right mind would expect him to honor it.

  Except she stood here, her blue eyes challenging him to do exactly that.

  “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

  “Am I?” She shrugged a single shoulder. “Then I suppose you had better leave me to it.”

  He wanted to shake her, to kiss that pretty pink mouth until all her carefully constructed poise disappeared to reveal the wild thing underneath. Luca gave himself a shake. What was he thinking? There was no wild thing inside this woman. If he shattered her exterior, he would break her. There was nothing of substance beneath.

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nbsp; He glanced over her head to the rest of the room. They had everyone’s attention now. He clenched his jaw. “It won’t work. I’m not coming back to play the spoiled nobleman or the devoted husband or whatever other fantasy you’ve constructed.”

  She stared at him for several long moments. “You’d force Death to break her word?”

  Yeah, he was definitely going to kick Amarante’s ass for this. She had always played the deeper game, and he’d been content to let her do it. Luca owed her that, at the very least. But even his bone-deep gratitude only went so far. They were supposed to be partners, the four of them, and that agreement didn’t include her inviting innocents into their plans.

  Especially when the innocent in question was under the mistaken belief that she was betrothed to Luca.

  “We are not engaged,” he spoke slowly, drawing each word out as if speaking to a child. “Consider yourself lucky. You’ve dodged a bullet.”

  “That remains to be seen.” She turned without another word and strode away, the very picture of a tiny queen moving through the room as if she had every right to be there.

  He had to concentrate on standing still and not following her. He clenched his fists, watching her until she disappeared through the door. There was absolutely nothing stopping someone from hurting her. This island might be all carefully constructed fantasy, but real risk occasionally slipped through. The responsible party was always punished, was always made an example of.

  But it still happened despite their best efforts.

  His eyes found Ryu casually leaning against the wall, speaking softly with Kenzie. Ryu raised a single brow at whatever look Luca had written across his face, but he pushed away from the wall and followed Camilla through the door.

  Luca melted back into the shadows of the alcove. There was a door hidden in the panels near the corner, but he merely waited. Watching.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, conversation started up again. The Texan heir left first, stalking through the door as if he couldn’t stand to remain in the room a second longer. Then the mob guy, trailing his sponsors behind him. The assassins, both as pretty as a picture, showed no signs of leaving, seeming to enjoy the free food and whatever they were discussing. Only one of them would be competing, but that didn’t make the other any less dangerous.

  An invitation had been secured, but the final list of competitors would be finalized the night before the hunt. That’s when Amarante would announce that Kenzie was the White Stag, and Kenzie would leave for the larger island. Twelve hours were more than enough for her to ensure her win. All four of them knew every secret that island had to offer, from the cameras situated to give spectators the best views of the action to the carefully concealed traps meant to trip up the unwary. They made millions each year on the betting alone, people with more money than sense loved to pick favorites and cheer them on.

  He hadn’t been lying. Kenzie had never been caught. She might not look it to an outsider, but if she ever wanted to, she could meld into the woods anywhere in the world and never be seen again.

  A skill that had kept them alive when they needed it most.

  He gave himself another shake. The past lingered at the edges of his mind, flickering like some dark flame intent on consuming his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. They had things to accomplish, a plan two decades in the making that was finally, finally, being put into motion.

  Luca made himself turn from the room and push the ridged spot on the wall that opened the door. He slipped through, paused to ensure it was securely closed behind him, and then moved through the dark passageways that crisscrossed both casinos on the small island. Some of them were used by staff, but others were known only to him and his siblings. The benefit of the ability to move without being seen was priceless at times.

  Like now.

  He made his way to the hub, the spot where they ran all the operations on the island, and the place where they each kept their private rooms. As expected, he found Amarante standing before the wall of monitors, her gaze on the room he’d just vacated.

  She hadn’t changed out of the suit, but she’d pulled her long black hair away from her face. Without looking at him, she said, “You’re distracted.”

  “No shit.” He stopped next to her. Even though he knew better, he still tracked the cameras leading to the competitors’ villas. Camilla moved through one, her pace steady, her expression perfectly calm. As if nothing could touch her. She didn’t seem to notice Ryu shadowing her steps, and that should please him. If she thought for a second that he cared whether she lived or died, she’d take it as a sign that she had a chance in hell of prying Luca out of this place. She didn’t.

  But that didn’t mean he wanted her harmed.

  Getting soft.

  “Do you remember the plan?”

  He dragged his gaze from the monitors to find Amarante watching him closely. Of course he remembered. Of the four of them, Luca had spent the least amount of time in that hell. It was Amarante who approached him after he won that first fight, when he was just a terrified ten-year-old who only wanted to go home, and taught him how to survive that place.

  It was Amarante who’d pushed them to keep going, to keep fighting, when they traveled by foot south to Seattle, a group of motley kids who shouldn’t have survived.

  And it was Amarante who’d crafted this plan to ensure what happened to them would never happen to anyone else again.

  “It’s really shitty of you to remind me of that every time you think I’m going to break ranks. I’m here, Amarante. This is my home. You are my people. Of course I fucking remember the plan. I want them ground to dust, the same as you.” He had to fight the urge to look at the monitors again. “But if you wanted me not to be distracted, why the hell did you invite her to play this game? We don’t fuck with innocents.”

  “Innocents,” she said the word like she was tasting it. “She’s not a child. She made her choice. Who am I to hold her back?”

  As much as he loved Amarante, he spent a good portion of their time together wanting to throttle her. She never came at a goal directly, preferring to skirt the edges, nudging all the players into place before she began the games.

  She’d just never played those games with them.

  “What are you up to?”

  “They came.” She nodded at the monitor showing the room. “I told you they would.”

  He gave an inward sigh. Apparently the topic of Camilla was closed. Luca studied the three men and single woman who were all sponsored by the Bookkeeper. The man in question—at least, they were reasonably sure it was a man behind the money—lost a small fortune to them over the years, especially around the Wild Hunt. Money he’d earned by trafficking children, among other things.

  This year, a carefully crafted invitation had gone out directly to him. A taunt, though it wasn’t overtly categorized as such. As a result, he’d weighed the competition in his favor by sponsoring four competitors. Technically, he was only allowed one, and his shell corporations sponsored the other three, but Ryu had tracked the money back to the source.

  They had him on the line.

  “Once we do this, there’s no going back,” Luca finally said.

  “Second thoughts?”

  “No.” He’d given up wondering what his life would have been like if he wasn’t stolen away from his safe little family in Thalania. That kind of hope could kill a person in the place he’d met Amarante—a lesson she’d taught him herself. There was no before. There was only now.

  They survived.

  More than that, they’d used the skills they learned, the fury, the complete and utter ruthlessness, to carve out a piece of the world that was theirs and theirs alone. No one could touch them on the little trio of islands they owned off the coast of Africa. It was their world, their rules, their game board.

  “You’re sure he’ll come.” He didn’t quite phrase is as a question, but she answered all the same.

  “He’ll have to once he wins. He won
’t be able to resist taunting us when he collects his favor.”

  A risk, and a large one at that. Some sponsors liked to hide in the shadows, allowing their competitors to act in proxy. There was always the possibility that someone would go rogue, though, and that’s what they banked on in this scenario. The Bookkeeper wanted the prize too much to risk it.

  Which meant he had to think he could win in order to tempt him to the island.

  “Is Kenzie up to this?”

  Amarante gave him the look that question deserved. “It’s covered.”

  Was it? Because the one thing Kenzie couldn’t stand was being trapped. She played parts like she thought life was nothing but a stage, but the second she was cornered, she went for someone’s throat. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never been able to master that knee-jerk reaction. “If she kills the winner—”

  “It’s covered, Luca.” Amarante gave him a tight smile. “Trust me.”

  With his life? Always. She’d earned that trust and more. Amarante would never do something to directly harm him or the others. That, he believed beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  Everyone else was fair game, though.

  Including little Camilla Fitzcharles.

  Cami knew someone was following her, but they didn’t shadow her steps as she turned toward her villa, so she didn’t bother worrying about it. There was already too much occupying her mental space as it was. Obviously the person behind her hadn’t meant her harm, and that was all she needed to know.

  Especially when she had so many other things to worry about.

  No one had won the Wild Hunt before.

  Cami slipped into her villa and locked the door behind her. She moved through the space without turning on any lights, checking to ensure she was still alone. Cameras remained a potential issue, but she ignored that problem the same way she’d ignored the person following her to her villa.

  Satisfied she was alone, she stripped out of her gown and hung it up in the closet. The air conditioner hummed softly, fighting a valiant battle against the clammy heat hovering on the other side of these walls. The humidity was cloying, wrapping around her the second she walked out the door. If she hadn’t already cut off most of her hair, she would have considered taking it to the chopping block just to keep it off her face and neck.