My Royal Sin / Playing Dirty. Lauren Hawkeye

because no man has ever looked at me as he does—with such protectiveness, such care—I want to tell him everything. Instead, I settle for the dream.

      “When I was younger, it was always me standing on the side of the road where my father crashed. I would have to watch him slamming on the brakes while the car kept speeding toward its violent end. Toward his end. And every time, just before I’d wake up, the whole scenario would slow down. As his car would wrap around the tree, I’d hear his voice telling me, ‘Find the map, Eva. Find the map and save us all.’” I let out a nervous laugh. “That sounds ridiculous, right? The doctor who helped put the dream to rest convinced me that it was my own subconscious wanting to find a way to save my father.”

      Benedict tilts my chin up and brushes a soft kiss over each of my tear-soaked eyes.

      “And now, angel?”

      I steady myself. “Now it is almost the same dream, but it is Jasper behind the wheel and not my father. Yet the message has not changed, only the voice that makes the plea.” I straighten in my prince’s lap, more sure of myself than I’ve been for quite some time. “I think that doctor was wrong, or that maybe he didn’t want me searching for whatever map this might be. Because I know my father was murdered. And I know my brother was set up. And if I don’t figure this all out before they do—whoever they are—they will come for me next.”

      X clears his throat, and we both turn to where he stands in the doorway. X’s jaw tightens. “Let me return to the library to continue my studies. I assure you that you and Miss Rub—Evangeline Vernazza—are safe. I should have more concrete information for you by morning. For now, I think it best you stay with your guest.”

      Benedict opens his mouth to argue, but I interrupt.

      “Please don’t leave,” I say to him. “If X can help, let him, but don’t leave me alone here tonight.”

      He sighs and nods toward the doorway. “I will see you after my morning benediction, X. Meet me in the prayer room at ten. With answers.”

      X bows. “Yes, Your Highness.” Then he dips his head toward me. “Rest well, Evangeline.” And before I can thank him, he is out the door so quickly it’s as if he was never there to begin with.

      “How does he do that?” I ask. “It’s like a magic trick.”

      Benedict laughs. “Just wait,” he says. “I have seen him bypass doors altogether. Perhaps one day you will, too.”

      His tone is wistful, as if he speaks of a time in the future when our lives will still overlap, but I know this cannot be true as sure as I know that the way he holds me now is out of necessity, to wake me from the terror that threatens my sleep.

      I swing my legs off his, but he does not let go of me.

      “I’m sorry,” I say. “This is most inappropriate. I should go clean myself up.”

      His only response is to dip his head toward mine and kiss me again. This time, though, there is nothing of the hunger from before. Just a sweet, gentle yearning as his tongue slips past my parted lips, as we both taste the lingering salt of my tears.

      We lie down, his soft kisses continuing as we do. He pulls my body close and grins.

      “What are you smiling at?” I ask.

      “I didn’t realize I could do that,” he says. My brows pull together. “Kiss a woman,” he continues, “and have it not be sexual in nature.”

      I stroke his cheek, my chest tightening at what it would be like to meet such a man under any other circumstances than the ones we are in. That’s when I know I have to break this spell. I thought the hard part would be living with myself if I succeeded in tempting him from his holy path—or if I betrayed him to the Madam. I realize now the difficulty lies in thinking I could fall for such a man and not get my heart obliterated.

      “I think I’m okay to sleep now,” I say, trying not to sound too cold.

      “Of course,” he replies flatly, taking the hint, and I know I’ve hurt him...or at least bruised his ego.

      He slides his arm out from beneath me and leaves the bed, lowering himself to the hard, wooden floor.

      “Don’t you want a pillow?” I ask. “Or a blanket?”

      He rests his head on his forearm. “Not tonight. I must remind myself there are certain comforts that are not for me.”

      Like sleeping with a woman in my arms, I imagine him saying to himself.

      Like believing a prince could choose you over God, I think, realizing my own guilty wish.

      “Thank you for making me feel safe,” I say, staring at the ceiling.

      I hear him let out a long breath.

      “You will always be safe with me, Evangeline.”

      Tomorrow morning we will find out what X knows of the map that must exist. Tomorrow night I will convince Benedict how dangerously tempting I really am—so that neither of us is seduced again into thinking there could ever be more.

      So that my foolish heart understands there is no promise in a prince’s kiss.