Royal Command (Royal Watch #2)

  Royal Command, Copyright © 2020 by Stacey Marie Brown

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and her crazy friends. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It cannot be re-sold, reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: Twisted Fairy Publishing Inc.

  Layout by www.formatting4U.com

  Cover by: Hang Le

  Edited by Hollie www.hollietheeditor.com and

  Edited by Mo Sytsma: mo@TheScarletSiren.com

  ALSO BY STACEY MARIE BROWN

  Contemporary Romance

  Buried Alive

  Shattered Love (Blinded Love #1)

  Broken Love (Blinded Love #2)

  Twisted Love (Blinded Love #3)

  The Unlucky Ones

  Royal Watch (Book #1)

  Paranormal Romance

  Darkness of Light

  (Darkness Series #1)

  Fire in the Darkness

  (Darkness Series #2)

  Beast in the Darkness

  (An Elighan Dragen Novelette)

  Dwellers of Darkness

  (Darkness Series #3)

  Blood Beyond Darkness

  (Darkness Series #4)

  West

  (A Darkness Series Novel)

  City in Embers

  (Collector Series #1)

  The Barrier Between

  (Collector Series #2)

  Across the Divide

  (Collector Series #3)

  From Burning Ashes

  (Collector Series #4

  The Crown of Light

  (Lightness Saga #1)

  Lightness Falling

  (Lightness Saga #2)

  The Fall of the King

  (Lightness Saga #3)

  Rise from the Embers

  (Lightness Saga #4)

  Descending into Madness

  (A Winterland Tale #1)

  Ascending from Madness

  (A Winterland Tale #2)

  Note To The Reader

  My life has been full of incredible adventures, one of them living and working in London for five years. I was lucky enough to meet and hangout with Prince Harry many years ago while I worked as a manager for a pub Harry’s godfather owned.

  We were small pub but very protective of him, always keeping his visits quiet. I saw what he went through, the press hounding him, camping outside the pub in wait. How his girlfriend at the time was pursued and written about.

  Even before I started writing this book, the story had been in the back of my mind. I saw a different view of being royal than what fairytales love to tell you. Though this story is completely fiction, it is greatly inspired from my encounter with Harry, and I thank him for the inspiration.

  However, I think this is more a dedication to Meghan, Kate, and Diana…because you can fall in love with the man, but it takes a strong person to love a prince.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Chapter 1

  “Spencer, wake up.” A sting sliced through my nerves, tugging me from the darkness. “Wake. Up.”

  I didn’t come quietly back from the night but was violently and suddenly tossed into consciousness.

  My body lurched up, choking. My bones groaned as I arched, hacking and gulping for air. Rolling on my side, my lungs spasmed, trying to shove the gunk out. Bile coated my throat as I spit substance from my chest. Pain throbbed from every nerve in my body, but it still felt distant, like it was slowly stalking me like a predator.

  “Thank god.” A hand brushed the hair away from my face, pressing a piece of fabric to my head. “You scared me for a moment.” Dim light came from a miniature keyring flashlight on the floor, giving the tiny broom cupboard definition. Sliding my gaze to the familiar shadowy figure next to me, my head tried to grasp at memories, searching for understanding.

  My groggy brain took in my bodyguard squatting next to me, holding his tie against my hairline, his jacket wadded up under my head. Blood dripped from his cheekbone, neck, and forehead, his normally pristine shirt and trousers tattered and filthy. Grime coated me, covering my skin like war paint.

  War.

  Bomb.

  Hotel.

  Explosion.

  Everything rushed back to me, and I sat up with a jolt, the room and my stomach spinning. “Oh, god.” My throat burned, the exclamation only coming out a whisper. “Theo? The King?”

  “Whoa.” Lennox’s fingers wrapped around my arm, keeping me steady. “Go slow. You have a bad head wound. Probably a concussion.”

  My fingers went up, touching the dampness soaking into my hair. I knew I was probably in shock, my body numb to the actual pain waiting underneath.

  “What happened? Are they all right?” I croaked, panic thumping at my chest. The space was nothing more than a tiny storage room, but we were alive. Safe. What about everyone else?

  “They are fine.” Lennox wiped at the blood trailing down his face with his arm. “Dalton has them in lockdown.”

  “You know for sure?”

  Lennox tapped at his earpiece. “Yes. They were far ahead of us.”

  “You spoke with them?”

  “Yes, but they went silent for the safety of the King’s whereabouts,” he replied. “Protocol.”

  Relief fluttered at my lungs, but I still wanted to see for myself.

  “Why are we still here? I want to go see Theo.” I tried to rise, shaking off his hold, but he gripped me firmly, keeping me in place. “Was anyone killed?” Though I knew there would be no way there weren’t people dead.

  “I’m pretty sure, yes. At least the two bombers were.”

  “We can’t just sit here. We need to help them!” I cried, shoving him away and getting to my feet. Frantic. Scared.

  “We can’t.” He reached for me, but I moved around him, pushing on the door. “It’s useless. I’ve already tried. The door is blocked.”

  I gritted my teeth, shoving and ramming at the exit, my stubbornness setting in, slamming my body against it. My vision blurred, my body wobbling, but I couldn’t seem to give up.

  “Spencer, stop!” He yanked me back, wrapping his arms firmly around me, holding me against him, his h
eat and steadiness transferring to me. “You are only hurting yourself.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear. “Believe me, if there was a way, I would have gotten us out by now.”

  “But…” I didn’t want to contemplate what was on the other side of the door. The death and mayhem.

  Through a single tiny vent in the ceiling, I could hear sirens getting closer. Help.

  But they could be coming to a scene that involved taking people to a mortuary, not a hospital. Fright gripped my lungs in its hands, squeezing. It could have been me. Lennox. Theo or the King. I was alive only because of the man next to me. He sensed it. Saved my life. But it could have gone the other way. Two steps farther, and we could have been the ones blown up.

  My lungs searched for air, not able to grab any. My legs swayed under me, my vision blurring.

  “Breathe, Spencer.” Lennox pressed me firmer into him, his arms wrapping around me like a blanket, his voice low and calm. “Slow. In and out.” His demand curled around me, his voice and body engulfing me. “With me. Concentrate on my heartbeat, the rhythm of my chest. Nothing else.”

  I sucked in through my nose, then exhaled, my lids closing, zeroing in on him. Thump. Thump. In. Out. His breath and heart were steady, soothing, bringing me back down as I tried to match his rhythm.

  “You’ve done this before.” I breathed out. It wasn’t really a question. He had a dominance and ease to him. He had done this a lot.

  “Yeah,” he murmured against my hair. “PTSD can come out of nowhere. I had to learn to defuse it. Being in charge of my troop, there were many times I had to talk one of my men back down. Sometimes that person was me.”

  I stayed quiet, knowing nothing I could say would make what he went through, what he saw, any better. Sorry felt feeble on my lips. He was the one calming me when this probably had to be a huge trigger for him.

  Exhaling again, I eased back, expecting him to let go. He didn’t.

  Where the entire world around was dull and dark, he was vibrant and loud. His palm pressed into my diaphragm, the other wrapping securely around my hip as his frame flattened against mine. Adrenaline flooded my veins. My focus became hyperaware, my body responding to the feel of him against me.

  Hard. Heavy. Hot.

  Rubbing into my ass.

  My heart started pounding again, the pulse tapping at my neck, expanding my chest—this time for completely different reasons. As if he sensed the change, his breath shifted, his fingers digging into my hip.

  What the fuck, Spencer? You were almost blown up by a bomb. Theo is probably somewhere in this building, wanting to get to you.

  “I’m fine now.” I jerked out of his grip briskly, brushing my bloody tangled hair out of my face. “Thanks.”

  He cleared his throat, his hands going to his hips, taking a deep breath.

  “They know we’re in here, right?” I looked back at the door as if the fire brigade would magically break through right then. “We have to get out. I need to see Theo.”

  “They know we’re okay, but we’re not important.”

  “What? I think Theo—”

  “Doesn’t matter what Theo thinks or says.” He cut me off, irritation lining his forehead. “There is protocol. The King and Prince are the priority, even if it’s against their wishes. Getting them secure and safe is number one. Then I hope anyone needing medical attention would be next. We are alive and secure. We are not a priority.”

  I lowered my head in shame, rubbing at my chest. He was right. I would rather those really needing help get it first. “What happened?”

  “The attack was not meant for our leaders. We were just casualties of something that’s been going on for centuries and will probably never have a resolution, only more pain and death.” He stirred on his feet, his forehead creasing with grief and darkness. “I should know. I saw enough of it. Lost too many comrades to the senseless battle. You think you kill the bad guy, but a dozen more pop up in his place, even more evil and demented.”

  I leaned against the door, watching Lennox pace, filling the space even where his body didn’t touch. The room was only two by three meters, but he had a presence that filled every corner, whether you were in a ballroom or a closet.

  “No matter how tight you think the security is, there are always ways. I didn’t see the second bomber, but I got a glimpse of the first guy. The man was dressed in a hotel chef’s jacket. He probably was planted here months ago.”

  He paused, running his hand absently through his hair, before his gaze fell heavily on me, his nose wrinkling.

  “Fuck. You’re bleeding bad.” He swiped his tie off the ground, stepping back to me. My muscles locked up as he leaned into me, gently pressing the silky fabric to my head. “Head wounds bleed like a bitch.”

  I hissed through my teeth, the sting forcing me to bite down on my lip.

  “You okay?” he uttered huskily, his gaze lowering to mine.

  He was too close. Too much. “Yeah.” I tried to back away, flattening myself against the door, trying to ignore the way my heart thumped against my ribs.

  “I really want to clean your wound before it gets too infected.”

  “With what?” I took a moment to study the space. His flashlight exposed brooms, dirty mops, a wheelie mop bucket, and bottles of different cleaners lined on the floor against the wall. “Floor cleaner?”

  “If I have to.” He shrugged. “Clorox isn’t the best, but it will have to do.” He motioned for me to sit.

  “Bleach? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.” He crouched down, grabbing the white bottle of bleach.

  “Hell no.”

  “Why?” He glanced back at me. “Afraid of a little sting?”

  “A little?” I scoffed.

  “Never took you for a weenie.”

  “Weenie?” I sputtered, the word sounding funny coming from his lips.

  “Chicken better?” He tipped bleach on his silk tie. “It’s this, or I’ll have to cut off your head because it’s infected and festering.”

  I snorted. My head was already beyond help. And it seemed more to do with him than the wound.

  “I’ll let you torture me back.” He patted the ground. “Fair is fair.”

  An evil grin turned up my mouth. “Now that sounds like fun.”

  “Thought it might entice you.” He smirked, his gaze sliding over me and watching me lower to my knees in front of him.

  “I will never miss an opportunity to torture you.”

  A strange snort came from him, and he muttered, “Don’t I know it.” He reached up, his eyes finding mine. “Brace yourself.”

  My jaw locked down, and I sat farther back on my heels as he patted around the wound.

  Sizzling.

  Agony.

  “Holy mother bugger fucker!” I frothed through my teeth, my hands clamping down on his thighs, needing something to hold on to. My eyes instantly watered, the fumes sticking in my throat. “Bloody blighter.”

  “Such a dirty mouth for a noble lady.” He sniggered, tapping closer to the cut.

  “Fuck off, arsehole.” My nails dug into his firm legs, only making him laugh harder. I sucked in, trying not to pass out. I had many injuries over the years. A farm girl was always bruised, cut, or had some kind of lesion. I was tough. I’ve suffered broken bones, stitches, and sprains…and I would have them all again if I could forgo experiencing bleach being poured into an open wound.

  “Ouch,” he yelped, my hands squeezing him harder. “Damn, Duchess. You’ve got a powerful grip there.”

  “I hate you,” I seethed.

  He only grinned.

  “Payback will be such a bitch.” My teeth cracked together as he swiped over my hairline. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

  “I’m counting on it,” he replied. His voice was even, but my heart still loped sideways in my chest, sweat trickling down my back. It’s from the pain, Spencer. Not him.

  He leaned in, my body going still as he blew softy on the cut. His breat
h ghosted over my skin, crawling down my neck and underneath the torn dress, flicking at my nipples.

  Freezing, my throat bobbed at the rush of heat covering my skin.

  “Done.” He inclined away from me, his brow furrowing at whatever he saw on my face. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked, taking the tie from him, my tongue sliding over my bottom lip. What was wrong with me? He was attractive, sure. Okay, some might say smoking hot, which still didn’t seem to do him justice. But normally someone’s looks faded in my eyes, their personality making them attractive or not. Why was I so flustered around him?

  We had hated each other…at one time. When did that change?

  “Hey.” He tipped his head, snatching up my attention. “Thought you’d be all over this part.”

  “Right.” I forced the thoughts from my head, pouring bleach on the tie, rising on my knees.

  “Do your worst.” He tilted up his face to me. The cuts below his eye and on his head were still moist from fresh blood.

  I wiped the fabric across his cheek, and a deep grunt jolted his spine, his hands clamping down on my hips. “Fuuucck, it stings.” He huffed, his jaw twitching, clamping down each time I touched him. His nose flared, his forehead dampening. “I take it back.” Each word was a struggle. “You are not a weenie.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, trying to concentrate on my duty and not the way his large hands gripped my hips—possessively, intimately, like they were his to hold.