Page 41 of Broken Princess

As my breath melts over her skin, she releases a soft sigh, and I see her shoulders drop in relief, taking comfort in the realisation that she’s not in charge anymore. She leans back against me, and that gesture makes me feel like a king. It’s a privilege that she’s allowed me to do this for her.

Ever since we found her, each day I’ve daydreamed about her more and more. She’s truly formidable and I can’t fathom the depths of hell she’s experienced, but I want to know everything about her so I can be everything she needs to help her overcome it.

Bringing my hands to the hem of her hoodie, I lift it off, careful not to catch her hair as I do, but I hear a small gasp as she pulls her arms from the sleeves. I hate that I can’t take that pain away.

Hooking each index finger into the waistline of her sweats, I pull them down. Her apex is bared to me, and I’m reminded that she has no underwear here. I crouch behind her on my haunches, removing her sneakers and lift each foot out of the pant legs. Finally, I take care to remove the compression bandage on her right leg. It’s swollen and discoloured, angry at her over exertion and having been forced into a shoe all evening.

She stands naked in front of me, and while I’m sure there’s not a square inch of her I wouldn’t find attractive, that’s not what this is about. She needs my care, not my desire.

My eyes wander across her skin, scrutinising the wounds I tended when she arrived. They’re healing well, but now that the angry welts are fading, I can appreciate the history of abuse she’s suffered. I will never forgive myself for the pain she has endured because of the neglect of every family member who could have intervened. Had we been vigilant, this never would’ve happened.

Turning off the faucet, I lift her into the water, encouraging her to recline and let the warmth soothe her—body and soul. Kneeling at her side, I pick up the sponge and shower gel.

“Close your eyes, Aurora.”

With the utmost care, I buff the lathered sponge across her silken skin. I move her gently, her limbs first, then pull her forward to rinse her back, washing away the burden of tonight’s events. Leaning her back down, I sweep across her torso in careful unhurried passes. The movements relaxed, meant only to comfort.

We no longer need words. Her body surrenders to every movement I demand of it. Sitting her up again, I wash and rinse her hair and slather it in conditioner, then leave her to relax and soak in the tub while I retrieve some things I’ll need.

I’ve never indulged this side of me so much before. This urge to tend to her is almost oppressively aggressive as it howls to be let loose. When she first arrived here, these urges were easier to sate because she rested so much. No one noticed how eager I was to watch over her.

Watching her sleep calmed me and making sure she had everything she needed was my purpose, not a chore. As the most home-based team member, I was around more, while the guys were out keeping up the pretence and running our regular jobs for The Syndicate.

The more time I’ve spent with Rory, the more consuming the urge to protect her has become. Having to stand back and watch on the monitors as Carlo called her a whore was gut wrenching. But then this little spitfire did what she always does—survive and persevere. She decimated Carlo, expelling every ounce of her strength in the process.

I know that my purpose is to bring her back to life. I can feel it in my core.

Aurora Bianchi deserves to be cherished, not tortured, and I—we—will annihilate anyone who stands against her.

Returning to her, I rinse the conditioner from her hair and then lift her out, bundling her in an oversized towel before taking her through to my room. Setting her down on the end of my bed, I arrange myself behind her so I can towel-dry her tendrils and brush out the ebony strands cascading down to her hips. She can’t keep her eyes open as the soft bristles stroke across her scalp. Soft moans fall from her lips as she leans into the movement of the brush strokes.

Standing her up, I encourage her into a pair of my boxer briefs and an oversized hoodie. I’m more careful of her injuries this time and though she winces, she doesn’t cry out. An almost primal sense of ownership swells inside me, seeing her in my clothes, and I clench my jaw as I suppress a groan.

Winding my fingers through hers, I pull her back on the bed, leaning my back against the headboard as the soft pillows envelop us. I encourage her to curl into my side and rest her head against my chest. As her cheek comes to rest, nestled below my thundering heart, I curl an arm around her and stroke her hair.

Tipping her chin up, she opens her eyes again and whispers, “Thank you.” Her tone warm and relaxed.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

She frowns and places her delicate hands on either side of my jaw. With a serious look, she says, “I mean it, Sin. I have a lot to thank you for. Not just you, all of you. For the longest time I’ve been alone, and so very broken. You all saved me.” Her thumbs are stroking my stubble as she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “But what I cannot understand is why you keep on saving me.”

I growl at the heartbreaking realisation that our failure to protect her has left her doubting her worth. Every fucking Bianchi member, including her father, failed her the minute they married her off to that fucking psychopath.

“I’m not worth it, Sin.” Shaking her head, she refuses to look at me and closes her eyes. The powerful creature she’s been channelling all night has abandoned her. Right now, she’s succumbing to every bit of self-doubt that only years of abuse can breed.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Clutching her around the waist, I roll her underneath me and tower over her. Glowering like a feral beast, I loom over her with hands on either side of her head. “If I ever hear you speak about yourself like that again, I’ll have you over my knee, spanking your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week. How fucking dare you, Aurora.”

I move to straddle her hips and ease my hand around her slender throat, squeezing gently until I feel the rapid thrum of her pulse, like the delicate fluttering of hummingbird wings—rapid and exquisite. She swallows hard and I can feel every movement as she tilts her chin, a defiant glint coming to life in her eyes as she tests the limits of my hold on her. Her pupils are blown wide, and she peeks out her tongue to wet her lips.

“We failed you, colibrì. You sacrificed yourself to a monster, and every single one of the Bianchi Family let you. It is us who are not worthy of you.” Leaning down with my eyes boring into hers, I add, “You were spectacular tonight.”

My guttural tone betrays me, declaring just how much I admire her.

Her eyes flare open wide—filled with shame. “I lost it, Sin. I couldn’t even hold it together through one interrogation.”

“How can one woman be so fucking dense?” I say with a smile. “You undid Tony in minutes, you got everything we needed from Carlo, and then you obliterated him. It was glorious.” Just thinking about the look on her face as she took her vengeance out on Carlo has my dick stirring. It practically stands to attention when I stroke my thumb along her neck and a blush chases its way down her body. Her skin heats in flourishes of goosebumps, trailing behind my fingers. She writhes, her body chasing my touch.

The shame fades and disgust creeps across her features. “But what I did to him?—”

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