Page 24 of Dark Prince

He’s right.

Heeding Grigori's counsel, I retreat to the sanctuary of my study, the anger simmering down to a low burn, replaced by a cold determination.

“Keep an eye out,” I tell him, my voice now steady, “and stay nearby. I want to talk to her. Let me know the moment she comes out of that room.”

Grigori nods, understanding the undercurrents of my request without needing further explanation. “You got it,” he assures me before leaving me to my thoughts.

Alone in my study, the earlier fury gives way to a strategic calm. The need for patience becomes clear—whatever is happening with Maura, whatever barriers have risen between us, brute force won't tear them down. It's a game of chess, not war, which needs to be played.

As I settle into the silence, the resolve within me hardens.

But the monster is still there, his mouth curled up in a devilish grin. I know what he wants and what he’ll do to get it.

Chapter 13

Maura

I'm dreaming, lost in a world where only Luk and I exist. I'm ready and willing to explore the boundaries he's inviting me to cross and to discover new aspects of myself under his guidance.

He’s standing over me, dressed in a suit with the tie undone, the top button of his collar open. He’s like a statue, powerful and imposing, his gaze latched onto me. I’m tied to the bed, my wrists and ankles bound, my chest slowly rising and falling.

I’m his. Whatever happens next, it’s Luk’s decision.

I glance down at my breasts, the pinch of the nipple clamps insistent, with just the right amount of pain. The air is thick with anticipation.

Then, slowly, as if we have all the time in the world, Luk begins to make his way around the bed. His footfalls are heavy in the otherwise stillness of the room.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

His words send a shudder of delight up and down my body. Despite my bindings, all I can think about is pleasing him. In a way, his enjoyment of my body makes me happy. Soon, he’s at the side of the bed. He leans down until his lips are right over mine.

“You’re going to come, and you’re going to come when I tell you to. Understood?”

I want to kiss him. I want his touch. I want all of him more than anything. But he’s keeping himself just out of reach, taking pleasure in depriving me.

“Understood.”

He places his hand on the soft flatness of my belly, moving down, down over the red thatch of hair above my pussy. Then he reaches between my thighs, about to give me what I so desperately crave.

But then, abruptly, the fantasy shatters. I awake to the stark darkness of my bedroom, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like cobwebs. My hand, caught in the act of wandering below the waistline of my panties, freezes as the reality of my solitude sinks in. Embarrassment floods through me, hot and sharp, followed closely by a surge of annoyance.

I'm mad at myself, frustrated by my own body's betrayal and the vividness of my subconscious desires. The dream felt so real, so tantalizingly close to something I'm both curious about and afraid to embrace fully. Luk's gift, meant to be an exploration of trust and surrender, now feels like a taunt in the solitude of my room.

Sitting up, I push the feelings of embarrassment aside, trying to quiet the storm of emotions that the dream has unleashed. Longing, fear, and a burgeoning sense of self-awareness all meld together into something that I'm not entirely sure what to do with.

Alone in the darkness, my heart skips a beat as the silence of my room is pierced by an unsettling rustle from the corner. It's too dark to see, but the unmistakable sense of another presence sends adrenaline coursing through me. My breath catches, and I'm frozen, straining my ears for another sound.

Then, movement—a shadow shifts in the darkness. Panic flares up within me, but before I can scream, my instincts kick in. There's a figure lunging toward me, the silver of his blade glinting in the pale moonlight. Time slows down as I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. The figure, caught off balance by my sudden movement, stumbles forward.

There’s a sharp pain in my arm—a reminder that the danger is real—but I don't have time to dwell on it. My survival instincts take over. I reach for the bedside lamp, throwing it toward the shadow in a desperate bid to disorient my attacker. The lamp misses, but the sudden burst it creates as it shatters against the wall gives me precious seconds to act.

I lunge for the heavy book on my nightstand, swinging it with all my might at the intruder. The impact sends them reeling back, and I scramble for the light switch. My heart is pounding, my breath ragged, and as the room fills with light, my attacker is revealed, dressed all in black.

The assailant covers his ears as I scream. The door suddenly bursts open, and Grigori rushes in. He’s unarmed but, all the same, prepared for a fight.

The assailant turns his attention to the new face, seeing that a greater problem has arrived. The two square off against one another, both in fighting stances, ready to pounce.

Finally, the assailant makes a move. He lunges forward, stabbing at Grigori. For a moment, my blood runs cold as I worry his blade will find its mark. But Grigori is too quick for him. With one swift movement, he grabs the wrist of the attacker and twists. His knee follows upward, connecting with the man’s forearm.

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