Royal Obsession (Fated Royals Book 3) Read online

  Royal Obsession

  Nikolai Andrew

  Dani Wyatt

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  Contents

  Stalkers welcome

  Chapter 1

  Maksim

  Chapter 2

  Anika

  Chapter 3

  Maksim

  Chapter 4

  Anika

  Chapter 5

  Maksim

  Chapter 6

  Anika

  Chapter 7

  Maksim

  Chapter 8

  Anika

  Chapter 9

  Maksim

  Chapter 10

  Anika

  Chapter 11

  Maksim

  Chapter 12

  Maksim

  Chapter 13

  Anika

  Chapter 14

  Anika

  Chapter 15

  Maksim

  Chapter 16

  Anika

  Chapter 17

  Maksim

  Chapter 18

  Anika

  Chapter 19

  Maksim

  Fated Royals

  Like what Nikolai brings to the feast?

  Other Titles By Dani Wyatt

  Let’s Stay Connected!

  About Dani

  About Nikolai

  Thank You to Every Reader

  Copyright © 2020

  by Dani Wyatt & Nikolai Andrew

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,

  events and incidents are either the products

  of the author’s imagination

  or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.

  Cover Credit Pop Kitty

  Editing Nicci Haydon

  Created with Vellum

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  Sordid fun and other dirty shenanigans

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  Now, let’s get on with the show…

  Chapter 1

  Maksim

  “Give me the strength to stop wanting her.”

  I kept my voice low as I knelt at the altar, but the deep baritone of my words seemed to echo off the centuries old cut stone walls. When I lowered my head and shut my eyes, I saw her. I always fucking saw her. The curve of her neck, the shape of her lips, the way her skirt outlined the V of her pussy when the wind blew just right. Anika. My goddamned stepsister.

  “Give me the strength to overcome this fucking obsession.” The cut of my words were pleading. Begging and I waited.

  No answer.

  There was never an answer.

  But any son who loses his mother as a child and says he doesn’t talk to her is full of shit. My mother had been dead for years, but I talked to her all the time. And I came here, kneeling at the shrine I’d built in her old chambers, to pray for one thing most of all: to free me from the burden of loving Anika.

  My mother would’ve been the first to forbid us from seeing each other, I was sure of it. But the fucking irony was this: Anika was just the type of woman my mother would have loved. Headstrong, whip-smart, fiercely independent. And so damned kind to everybody, it made my goddamned heart hurt.

  The other irony, of course, was the fact I was the heir to the throne and could have any woman I chose. But the only one I wanted was the one I couldn’t have.

  It was fucking impossible. So, I turned to my mother for help. And I needed some serious help. Because without it, this obsession would destroy me. Or destroy our kingdom.

  Or both.

  No matter how hard I prayed, I got no relief. I loved Anika to distraction, to insanity. I thought of her constantly. When I was awake, I thought about protecting her. When I slept, I thought about fucking her. I woke up hard for her and went to sleep even harder. It never ended. And unless I found a way to make her mine, I knew it never would.

  A noise from my right made me open my eyes and look over. If anybody heard me—the prince and heir to the throne—lusting over my goddamned stepsister, I would be royally and truly fucked. Rising to go check, I rubbed my temples and ran my hand down my stubble as I approached the door.

  But it was nothing to worry about: in the chair out in the hallway sat Dora, my mother’s former lady in waiting. She was half-deaf, half-blind, and so ancient that taking naps had become a full-time job. She was slumped in her chair, hands clasped over her pudgy belly, snoring as she slept. As one of my very few remaining links to my mother, I looked after her like she was my own grandmother. She might as well have been.

  Dora was napping comfortably, but judging from the uncapped flask on the table next to her, in need of a refill.

  As usual.

  Slipping my own flask from my pocket, I topped up hers and capped it. As I set it back down, she snorted herself awake, blinking her cloudy eyes in the dimly lit hallway.

  She looked at the flask and smiled.

  “Your mother is looking after her Dora still,” she said with a sigh, as she unscrewed the lid and took a sip. “Every day I come and catch a few winks after I finish my drink. Every day I wake to find a full flask. A miracle. Have I told you about it, my boy?”

  A million goddamned times.

  I hid my impatience, though. I could never tell if she really believed that my mother visited her or if she was just bullshitting me. Didn’t matter. As long as she was comfortable and happy, I felt like I was doing right by her, even if I had to do it in secret. I had a reputation as an unfeeling bastard and I aimed to keep it that way.

  “Once or twice,” I finally said and her thin lips curved into a sly grin.

  She took a seriously respectable swig, capped her flask, and then patted my hand.

  “Saw your pretty little stepsister earlier, wearing a brand new dress. Cornflower blue. Looks like an angel made it, you ask me. I reckon it must have cost a city’s ransom for the material alone. Imported… You should have seen her.”

  Fuck yes, I’d seen her. And Dora was right: the new blue dress was probably the most expensive garment in the land. I’d had it made for her myself from silk that cost more just to have transported across the sea than most people earned in a dozen years, and had it put in her chambers.

  She had no clue it was me. I’d caught a glimpse of her that morning and my cock responded instantly. But I managed to make a grumble that sounded semi-believable, even to me.

  “You know I don’t notice shit like that about her.” I lied. I noticed every fucking thing about her.

  Dora answered with a little wry smile.

  “Typical man, more interested in politics and intrigue than beauty. But you can’t fool me, my lad. I know there’s more than just iron and steel in that heart of yours, and one day you’ll meet a girl that turns your head, just as your sister will turn a fair few heads of her own, I can tell you.”

  “I don’t need my head turned by a—” I started, when the sun
’s journey brought it into alignment with the distressed glass of the window opposite my mother’s old room, casting a dazzling spray of light along the wall that quickly diminished and settled to a pleasant glow.

  Fuck.

  The hour had gotten away from me. My sister could be miles away by now on one of her god-damned hunting trips. Anika didn’t care that such things were forbidden. She rarely got caught slipping past her guards, and had no fear of highwaymen or wild animals. She didn’t give a shit about any of it.

  She was like a hawk that had to fly. It had become such a common occurrence for her to slip out of the castle that I had taken to checking on her four or five times a day, following from a safe distance when I found her missing so she wouldn’t figure out I was there and redouble her efforts at secrecy.

  If I didn’t keep an eye on her, nobody would.

  I didn’t have a single goddamned second to lose. I grabbed my sword belt from the hook by the door and booked it down the hallway, pulling the belt tight and adjusting my weapons as I went.

  “Prince Maksim!” Dora called out after me.

  I spun around, still walking backward, and lifted my eyebrows impatiently. “Yeah?”

  Dora beamed, all mischief. Again, I couldn’t tell if she was lucid or crazy as a shithouse rat. “Come back. I’ve got a little something for you,” she said, eyes sparkling in the early light.

  Unless it was a goddamned sign from above that fucking my stepsister wasn’t going to get me hanged, it could wait.

  “I’ll come back, next time I do you can give it to me.” I spun on my heel, and took off toward the courtyard, hustling to get to Anika at the old stables as fast as I could.

  I dismounted deep in the forest, about a hundred yards from the abandoned stables where I knew Anika always tacked up when she wanted to hunt on her own. They had once been the stables to a royal palace that stood here in the forest, but that was many centuries ago. Nothing now remained of that old palace except this ruined building, a place with a reputation for being haunted that kept away those who might otherwise try to steal the stones for newer buildings.

  Tying my horse to a nearby beech tree, I spotted a pair of small, curious eyes in the thicket between me and the old stables. I knew all of Anika’s secrets, even this one. Her pet fox, Falroy, followed her everywhere. He’d gotten plenty used to seeing me, so that he didn’t even run when he saw me. But he was still wild and I knew that bribes helped me keep cover. From my pocket, I took a piece of dried meat and tossed it to him. He chased it down with a flick of his tail and a rustle of leaves.

  Keeping my footsteps soft and steady on the low carpet of ferns, I went around the back of the stables, where a crumbled wall let me get inside without Anika knowing.

  I could just barely hear her whispering to her mare, another gift from me, and one I partly regretted since the horse was swift and light-footed, making her fucking difficult to track.

  She’d come with the name Rosa, but Anika always called her Rosie. She was a beautiful roan with a cream and gray coat, with dappled spots up her flanks, which made her look much older than she actually was. She had been a prizewinning racer in her day, always fooling everybody because she looked so ordinary. Watching Anika’s every move let me get to know her in a way that nobody else did—I could tell she was happiest on her own, unseen, able to move from place to place unnoticed. Rosie was just the horse for it. A teenage racehorse in a work horse’s skin.

  Of course, the saddle and tack provided for a princess at the castle stables were no good for hunting. Princesses were supposed to go for dainty side-saddle rides on the well-kept pathways through our carefully manicured grounds, not galloping through the forest looking for game animals to bring down and drag home. Hence the need for a second set of stables where she could discard the trappings of her status and saddle up for the hunt.

  I slipped into an otherwise unused stall, which shared a wall with where Anika always tacked up. As I approached the gap in the stall wall, I steadied my breathing, closed one eye, and looked through at her.

  The new blue dress was just falling to her feet. She stood there, half naked before me. And my cock hardened instantly in response.

  I knew exactly what she was doing, but every fucking time it turned me on more than I ever thought possible. Each time she managed to slip away, she’d come here and change out of her dress and into peasant’s clothes. She had them in a neatly folded stack, dirty and grungy linen.

  For a while, she’d worn the clothes of a more common woman. But over time, she’d taken to dressing as a young man to give her deeper cover. As disguises went, I had to admit it was fucking decent—she looked every bit the hardworking peasant boy, except for one thing.

  The crossbow.

  That, too, had been a gift from me, inlaid with mahogany along the bow with roses, which were her favorite. She had no fucking clue it had been me that had it made for her.

  Most people in the royal court assumed the gifts came from secret admirers, courtiers who would someday make a move to marry into the family through the king’s stepdaughter. And of course that idea was also on my father’s mind. The only thing he thought Anika was good for was a useful marriage and breeding. He wouldn’t hesitate to make her a pawn in some advantageous alliance.

  Breeding, though. Talk about a good idea. Fuck. I closed my eyes and thought about that—about breeding her myself. Tied to a sawhorse. With a belt around her waist so I could keep her steady as I shot my cum against the opening of her womb.

  I forced my eyes open. I needed to see her flesh and I needed it now. She tugged at the tie of her under-blouse and her breasts came free. Goddamn. Those beautiful fucking ripe, creamy breasts. Her nipples were slightly oval, puckered and hard with the coolness of the forest air.

  I felt a growl welling inside me, starting in my cock and getting dangerously close to giving me away. I cupped my erection on the outside of my pants, but it wasn’t enough. So I slid my hand down my pants and gripped my shaft hard.

  She let her blouse drop and her knickers as well, so she stood there naked in front of me. Squeezing my cock, I imagined being inside her, pounding her hard in my bed.

  You’re all fucking mine.

  As I fucked her, I’d feel her pussy tighten around me, the flutter of her walls, her cheeks flushing as she began to come undone underneath me.

  I fucking hate you for what you’ve done to me, I’d tell her softly in her ear as she came on me. I’m gonna punish you for it every night until the day we die.

  Fisting myself harder, I imagined binding her to the stable wall, teasing her with my mouth, my dick, my fingers. Making her tremble.

  Beg for this cock, Princess. Show me you fucking deserve my seed inside you.

  She turned away from me, showing me her ass, and it was all I could do not to groan out loud as I jacked off. But then, fucking then, she hinged forward, bending low at her hips, to pick up the shirt she’d left on the stable floor.

  I had a perfect view of her spread ass cheeks and her deep pink, flowering pussy from behind. Her lips were slightly darker than the rest of her cunt. The faint light from the open eaves of the stable’s holey tiled roof provided just enough light for me to see the slick, shiny crease between her folds. The only thing that would’ve made it more beautiful was my cum and her virgin blood, trickling out of her. And a jeweled butt plug in her ass.

  Fucking Christ. I stroked myself more firmly, barely more than a squeeze and release, mercilessly trapping the blood in the head and my balls, fucking desperate to have my dick inside her.

  As she put on her clothes and tucked her long, dark-red hair beneath her hat, I got some level of control over myself. But not much. Seeing her in boy britches fucking murdered me, every goddamned time. Those hips. That ass. Goddamn it, how I wanted my hand prints on that ass… how I wanted my cock inside every hole she had.

  Fuck, if I wasn’t careful, I was going to cum right then and there. Wouldn’t be the first time I came while wa
tching her in secret—far from it. But I could just tell this orgasm was going to be explosive. Too fucking risky.

  As bad as I wanted—needed—to empty my balls to get some relief, I loosened my grip and got control of my urges. I’d finish myself later that night, growling out her name from between gritted teeth.

  Like I did every night.

  She finished brushing Rosie with quick, expert flicks of the soft brush and then slung the saddle over her back on its pad, tightening the girth and checking the bit and bridle. Her competence and her independence were wildly sexy to me—so many fucking women made a habit of helplessness. But not Anika. And I fucking loved that about her.

  With an expert use of her shoulder against Rosie’s flank, she checked her hooves for debris and then patted her backside with a firm spank. Placing her foot in the stirrup, she easily mounted all by herself, graceful and strong.

  Anika click-clicked to tell Rosie to walk on, nudging her with her heels. Rosie responded with a snort and did as she was told. On Anika’s face was the purest, most uncomplicated joy. This is when she was freest, happiest, and even more exquisitely beautiful.

  This was her release from the often stifling demands of court, and despite my fears for her safety I admired the hell out of her for taking it. And I found myself smiling too, because now it was time for one of my favorite parts of all.

  The chase.

  I slipped out of the gap at the back of the stable, and made a running mount of my horse. I took off after her, riding hard, but she had the jump on me. She’d given Rosie her head to run, and I had to use all my senses to track her, listening between my own horse’s hoof beats for the crack of twigs and hush of rustling leaves up ahead while trying to stay just far enough behind to keep my own cover.