Page 33 of Princess Broken

If I’d postponed that difficult conversation, if I hadn’t told him my feelings, or lack thereof, he would have passed from this life still holding hope in his heart. In hindsight, telling him I didn’t love him seems cruel, but how could I have known it would be one of the last conversations we’d ever have.

I draw in several deep breaths, clearing my emotions. I can’t change the past. It’s time to face reality, not a series of what ifs.

The reality is: I’m kidnapped. Until I fix that, there’s no point in pining for some fictional future.

Sliding off the bed, I check my image in a long mirror, suspended from chains at the side of the room. I feel changed, like a different person, but other than the soiled dress, I look the same as usual. Even the lock of hair Blade sliced off grew back while I slept, and my body shows no evidence of the gunshot wounds, the physical exertions or the other minor injuries I suffered. Even my expression doesn’t reveal the pain in my heart.

I draw one more deep breath. It is time to face these vampires. They may be holding me captive, but I will not act the part.

They have sworn to protect me. They’ve called me their client. As such, it’s time to show them that I am the one in charge.

Chapter Thirteen

Phil

I pound my fists against my thighs, slamming them so hard I’m bruising. But instead of helping, the vibrations and pain only make my dick throb harder.

I cross to the fireplace where the embers from Flame’s work still smolder. I consider smashing my forehead against the stone mantle to distract myself from whatever’s making my dick hard, but instead I keep my arms rigid as I lean forward, my hands against the ledge of cold stone as I stare at the hearth.

I need a real tension reliever. I need to blow something up. Explosions calm me. Always.

I need something to detonate—something other than my balls and cock that continue to pound. My mind is consumed by the sight of her wearing that t-shirt when I burst into her room. Fuck. What a vision. Her skin flushed, hair askew from her pillow, her pale legs bare under that oversized t-shirt, and her sweet, sweet scent wafting across the room toward me.

The second I heard that glass break, a fierce need to protect her exploded inside me. A need like nothing I’ve felt before. My brothers and I have done plenty of protection details, but this current drive to protect goes way beyond any duty defined by some contract. And it’s still raging inside me, not just in my cock and balls, but my entire body.

Shit. I shake my head, realizing another horrific truth.

Last night, when the princess showed interest in Blade. I thought I felt anger. But it wasn’t anger. Not simple anger. It was jealousy.

Fuck me! I want to fuck her.

Some of the tension in my body relaxes. But recognizing an emotion doesn’t explain its source, or clear it out of my mind. Females express sexual interest in my brothers all the damn time, many preferring their smaller size and prettier faces over mine. I’ve never felt jealous before.

Why now? Fuck if I know.

But at least I know how to fix it. Even if it arose from jealously, my sexual urge can be cured by pounding a cunt or ten.

My urge is only physical. I’m not built to feel fondness, none of us is. Any such tendency for softness was crushed out of us by the Master during training. Smashed by discipline and punishments delivered if we showed even a hint of fondness toward one of the females he brought in for us to fuck.

That said, I admit I do like the lass.

She’s stronger than she looks and funnier than she knows, but it was my dick, and only my dick, that was jealous of her attraction to Blade. And it’s only my dick that’s screaming about what it wants now.

My cock’s happy to ram into whatever tight place I can find, content with any hole that’s soft and wet enough to build the friction required to make it explode.

I can’t deny that some holes have given my cock more pleasure than others, but even then, it’s never been about the person that owns the hole. It’s been about the hole itself.

Fuck. Thoughts of driving my cock into soft tight holes has not helped to relieve its current pounding and stiffness.

I slap the mantel a few times, my palms stinging against the cold marble. If I weren’t on watch, I’d get the fuck out of here. Go to the Rec Center and find a willing hole or ten to fuck, better yet, find something to blow up. Maybe both.

I glance at my watch. Blade’s due to relieve me in fifteen minutes. In sixteen I’ll have my cock buried.

The door to the bedroom opens, and my heart pounds like a distant underground explosion. Slowly, I turn.

Head high, Ana’s long hair flows out behind her as she glides into the room, with so much grace it’s like her bare feet aren’t touching the floor.

“I require a change of clothes.” She stops not far ahead of her closed bedroom door. “Therefore,” she continues, “as soon as the sun sets, you will escort me to a suitable shop. We must go up to the city before the human’s stores close for the evening.”

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