To Steal a Prince (3 page)

“I will.”

“You won’t. But try anyway. Stay out of trouble.”

The door closes, and I’m alone with Damon.

“A prince, huh?” I try to sound casual, but I’m not bold enough to meet his eyes.

“I try to fly under the radar. Can I get your bag?”

“Isn’t that beneath you?”

“Not when you’re so wobbly.”

I relent. It does feel heavier than normal, and not just because of the crown. I think I’m fading. I halt on the landing.

“Are you all right?”

Oh my god. I didn’t just steal Damon’s car. I stole his crown.

“I’m fine. I might need to lie down soon.”

“I’ll tell Rashad to drive quickly.”

The bag bumps against his side as we make our way down the stairs. I hope he doesn’t feel anything too familiar bulging from the canvas.

Damon steadies me as we descend. “So, you know a little about me. I have a question for you.”

Shit. It’s going to be about the stealing, isn’t it?

“Who’s Gabe?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. “He’s a good friend.”

“Just a friend?”

I smile. “I’m not his type.”

“Why not?” He sounds almost affronted.

“I’m a woman.”

“Oh.” He’s silent a moment, mulling this over.

“He might like you, though. Did you see the way he stared?”

“That’s enough.” Scooping me up, he carries me the rest of the way down.

As intoxicating as it is to be in his arms, I can’t stay here. I push against his chest when we reach the foyer, letting him know that it’s time to put me down. Damon sets me on my feet immediately. Ever the consummate gentleman, he makes sure that I’m steady before he removes his support.

“Shall we?” He holds the door for me as we walk into the street.

Heat hits us as soon as we step outside. The morning’s cool has been scorched away by the summer sun. I’m sure the car is being chilled, and I can’t wait to get in. I open the door for Damon.

He frowns. “Why didn’t you let me get that?”

“Just get in. You’re carrying my bag, and I’m perfectly capable of opening a door.”

The prince swings into the car with a swift motion I could never dream of imitating. “I know you’re capable, but I was taught to be courteous.”

I drop onto the seat next to him. “So was I.”

“Did your lessons include the most polite way to appropriate a car?”

“I didn’t say I was taught very well.”

Shaking his head, Damon turns to the driver. “To the palace please, Rashad.”

“Right away, Highness.”

The prince presses a button, and a tinted window rolls up that splits the car in half. Seeing my cautious expression, he winks at me.

“Didn’t I just tell you I was taught to be courteous? I only want a word alone. It can be hard to find privacy at the palace. Everyone feels the need to uncover everyone else’s secrets.”

I tighten my grip on my bag’s strap. “You’re really taking me to the palace?”

“Where else would we go?”

“Prison?”

He laughs. “You need a doctor more. I want our physician to see you, and check that you don’t have a concussion. Or worse.”

I hold a hand to my forehead. “I feel fine. Honest.”

“It would make me feel better to get an expert opinion.”

I’m an expert. Just in a different profession. Not that I want to remind him of that. I’m sure there will be many people urging the prince to change his mind about pressing charges. That large friend of his, Nic, for one.

Holding my gaze steady as long as I dare, I study Damon’s face. The light has turned his lashes golden. His eyes flick to mine, making my heart jolt.

My mouth seems dry all of a sudden. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“It was partially my fault that you got wrecked. I was careless, and didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to steal a car with royal plates.”

I hadn’t noticed those. Another mistake on my part.

“You never could have taken off if I hadn’t left the keys behind.”

That’s debatable, but I bite back a reply. It doesn’t seem wise to advertise my skills of theft.

Damon flips open a compartment to reveal a row of glasses. “Would you like anything? Scotch, bourbon, spiced rum?”

“No thanks. It’s still a little early.”

“Good point.” He closes the compartment. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

For some reason, his comment irritates me. “Why? I ruined your car. Are you afraid I’m going to sue you for getting hurt while totaling it?”

He smiles, bemused. “Should I be?”

“I guess not.” I sigh. “I could probably only get emotional damages, anyway. That car and I shared a deep bond for about fifteen seconds.”

“Machines can be fickle creatures.”

We lapse into silence. The houses become more and more ornate as we enter the heart of the city. For some reason, the displays of wealth make me anxious. I don’t belong here. I’ll stand out too much, and attracting attention is the last thing I want. As nice as it is to be in Damon’s presence, I can’t stay with him for long. I have to slink back to the shadows.

“How long will I have to stay at the palace?”

“You don’t want to stay?” His tone is joking, but he sounds a little hurt. Most girls are probably thrilled to get the grand tour. Gathering himself, he continues. “The doctor will most likely want you to stay overnight to make sure you’re okay.”

So I’ll be his captive for the evening. At least my prison will be more ornate than most.

We start up the winding road that leads to the palace. Damon rolls the windows down so I can see our approach. The views are magnificent. Since the palace sits on a hill, the whole city is laid before it. Red clay roofs cluster together, as if trying to ward off the new wave of gleaming office buildings.

A high wall rings the palace. Rashad slows as we come to a huge gate. It’s stamped with the royal crest, a lion fighting a serpent. They’re so entwined that I can’t tell which is winning the battle. The gate creaks open, splitting the combatants.

Before I stumbled across this place, I didn’t know it existed. I could never have found it on a map. The City of Lions is one of the world’s smallest monarchies, though you wouldn’t guess it from their palace. Spiraling towers covered with turquoise and ivory tell of their power. A waterfall spills out from one, a show of wealth in this dry country. Even the air feels richer here, somehow charged with possibility.

Peacocks flap out of our way, their tail feathers swishing behind them. I’ve never been anywhere like this. And I thought I felt out of place before…

I press myself into my seat. Should I refuse to get out of the car? I’m not even going to be able to unpack here. If anyone finds what I’m carrying in my bag, I’m screwed. No matter how beautiful this place is, I can’t afford to be here long.

The car stops all too soon. I force myself to step out before Damon can help me.

“This way,” he says, whisking me away before I can thank Rashad. The prince pushes through a door carved with lions mid-hunt. Their legs are outstretched as they chase down prey. I shiver, feeling like a gazelle who has wandered into the midst of a pride. It’s not like I have a record, but I’m very much out of my element. Gossip must travel fast in a place like this. Once people learn that I’m here because I crashed the prince’s car, I doubt I’ll be making many friends.

Damon leads me down a long corridor. I really hope our destination involves a bed of some kind. I’d like to lie down, if only for a moment.

The corridor seems to last forever. I wish I could take off my heels, but it would probably be rude to do that in front of a prince. The farther we walk, the more I have to lean on Damon. I’m annoyed by my inability to stay upright, but he doesn’t complain.

“Here we are.”

We stand before a blue door. Damon guides me in.

It’s like a tiny slice of paradise. One wall is painted with a mural of exotic birds. The other is open to the air, an archway leading to a low terrace. Most beautiful of all is a four-poster bed, silken curtains waving in the light breeze.

Setting my bag down, I fall on the bed with a sigh. It’s so soft that I sink into it.

Damon smiles indulgently, clasping his hands behind his back. “Are the accommodations adequate?”

“They’ll do.” Rolling over, I snag one of the pillows. Not caring how improper it is, I slip it under my head. It feels like heaven.

“Doctor Varna will be here to check on you soon.”

“I told you, I don’t need a doctor.”

“Humor me.” It’s not a question. “You should have everything you need here. I’ll be back later.”

I sit up, feeling nauseous as blood rushes to my head. “You’re not staying?” I barely know him, but I don’t want to be all alone in this strange place.

“You need some time to relax.” Damon reaches toward me. My heart races, anticipating his touch.

There’s a rap on the door.

He drops his hand to his side. “That’s the doctor now.” Damon crosses the room to let him in. My heart still pounds. Why do I feel so thwarted?

The man bows slightly to the prince. His hair is turning gray at his temples, and a stethoscope hangs around his neck.

“That’s your patient over there,” Damon says. “She flipped a car three times. I don’t want her to leave until you’ve determined that she’s healthy.”

“Of course, Highness.” The doctor bows again.

Damon leaves abruptly, without even a wave or a backward glance. Just as well. Hopefully he’ll forget me quickly.

The doctor sets his bag on a table. “Flipped a car, huh? That’s one way to get a man’s attention.” He chuckles. “Of course, with Damon, the trick isn’t getting his attention, but keeping it. No, don’t get up.” He pulls a chair up to the bed. “If you haven’t heard, I’m Doctor Varna. I’ve taken care of two generations of Lions. I’m not sure I could survive a third.”

He pats the edge of the bed, motioning me to sit in front of him. I decide that I like this doctor. It helps that we’re not in some sterile hospital room.

My legs dangle off the bed as he puts on his stethoscope.

“Do you mind?”

I shake my head, and he places the stethoscope against my chest. The metal is cold even through my blouse. I try to breathe slowly. Damon has messed up my heartbeat, and I don’t want Varna to think I’m going into cardiac arrest.

“Inhale. Exhale. Good. Your lungs are fine. Let’s see your eyes.” He shines a light in them. “Pupils aren’t too dilated. Everything seems normal. Does your head hurt at all? Any aches in your neck or back?”

“No. I feel fine, except for my lip.”

He wraps his stethoscope around his neck. “You’re a very lucky girl. I want you to rest here for at least a week. I’m sure you’re still coursing with adrenaline, and that might be masking any pain.” Varna hands me a bottle of pills. “Take two of these if you start to hurt. Even though you feel fine now, soreness could set in later.”

He stands, grabbing his bag. “I’ll check back with you tomorrow afternoon. Please let me know if anything starts hurting. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to use my X-ray machine.”

Varna bows, probably out of habit, closing the door behind him before I can say thank you. Maybe people aren’t used to being thanked around here.

Flopping back on the bed, I stare at the silken hangings. Great. I’m going to have to stay here longer. I shove my face in the pillow. Why did I think Damon would stay with me? I can be so stupid at times. He probably had a busy day planned before I burst into his life.

Someone turns the knob. I jump to my feet, heart singing. He’s come back!

A girl in gray clothes enters. She stops short, looking surprised to see me.

“Sorry,” I say, “this is my room.”

“Of course, your ladyship.” She bows, and I see that her arms are loaded with cleaning supplies.

“Oh. I didn’t realize.”

The girl just bows again, turning to leave.

“I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

She straightens, as if she’s had enough. “I know a dismissal when I hear one. You may be a guest of the prince, but don’t let it go to your head. You aren’t the first girl to stay here, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

The door snaps shut before I can come up with any more apologies. Miserably, I settle into the bed. It’s so soft that it’s hard to get comfortable. Closing my eyes, I try to sleep. I wonder how much more unpleasantness I’ll have to endure before I can leave.

3

Light streams into the room, making shadows dance over my eyelids. Stretching, I roll over. It still looks like the morning sun. I’ve slept either a few minutes or a whole day. My stomach rumbles, suggesting the latter.

Spurred by embarrassment, I get out of bed. Cool tiles greet my feet. Padding to the bathroom, I try to assess my soreness. I’m a little stiff, but otherwise okay. Still, I can’t believe I slept the day away. Damon said he was going to come back, didn’t he? I probably missed him. No telling when I’ll see him again.

The bathroom has a wide mirror edged with gold. Leaning against the vanity, I inspect my lip. It would take a lot of makeup to cover up that gash. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. It probably doesn’t look that bad at 500 yards.

I press my finger against my lip. Blood pulses underneath. A dull throb builds until I remove my finger. I sigh. I can try to ignore it, but my lip won’t help me make any good impressions. What I need to do is make up an intriguing story. Skydiving accident. Bear fight. Not that the real story isn’t exciting enough, but I don’t want to give anyone a reason to send me to jail.

I splash water over my face, careful to avoid my lip. My hair is a mess from sleeping too long, and there’s still some white powder in it from the airbag. Really, it makes quite a statement when combined with my lip. I run my fingers through it, hoping that I can find a hairbrush soon.

Idly, I open one of the drawers. To my delight, I find a new hairbrush, a pristine toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. I get ready, relieved that I don’t have to go hunting or begging for simple necessities. I should have brought my own, but in my haste, I forgot to pack my toiletries. To be fair, it’s not every day that a prince invites you over to his place.