Page 45 of Princess Broken

“No,” Crusher answers.

“Then why would you say he’s dead?” Pulling my favorite lighter from my pocket, I snap it open, flick the wheel and then snap it shut over the high flame—repeating the motion over and over.

“I want to be the one to take him out.” Each time my lighter ignites, I imagine different parts of Mariano catching fire. I want him to suffer before he dies.

“Calm down, Fire Boy,” Phil claps me on the back. “No need to burn the whole world down.”

“I am calm, Bomb Boy.”

Phil chuckles, but there’s anger smoldering beneath it. Doesn’t take much to spark Phil’s rage, even if he’s learned to contain it. Mostly contain it.

“Before anyone dies,” Crusher says. “Anyone else, I should say. We need to know the truth. Can’t go off half-cocked.”

“Speak for yourself.” Phil grabs his package. “Some of us have full cocks.”

Crusher rolls his eyes. “Flame. You stay with her. We’ll try not to kill Mariano without you.” He winks.

I slip the lighter into my pocket.

Crusher’s right. We need to find out the truth. But someone’s going to burn for what happened.

Chapter Seventeen

Ana

I slowly start down the corridor out of the clothes exchange. After helping me pick out some items, Gracen decided to stay behind to try some more things for herself. I turn back to find her leaning against the wall at the opening, grinning.

“Go on,” she says. “You look super hot.”

I press my hand against my lower belly, covered in deep red fabric that is far too thin and clingy. I’ve seen women wearing dresses like this before, but I never dared try one on. It’s the first time I’ve shown my bare legs in public, not to mention so much of my chest. And the dress is not only very tight, it has four diamond-shaped cut outs: one over my lower back, two revealing the sides of my lower ribs, and one between my breasts.

Trying on the dress was all I planned when Gracen pulled it off the rack—hoping for fun and adventure—but when I modeled it for Gracen, she insisted that I not only keep it, but wear it today. She pretty much dared me to wear it, and I’m cursing my sense of defiance that pushed me to accept her challenge.

I shift the bag that’s holding my other garments, keeping it in front of my body. I bend my arms slightly, positioning the sack to conceal at least some of my more feminine parts from the men. I’ve never been a self conscious person, but when I was human, my mother and governesses taught my sisters and me to dress modestly—as was the fashion of the day—and becoming a vampire did not change those ingrained habits of having all but my face, hands and feet shrouded in fabric.

I feel naked now, exposed in this tight, low-cut dress the color of blood.

Drawing courage into my chest, I stride forward, but then nearly trip when Blade moves into my view. His well-formed silhouette fills the exit into the square.

Blade sucks in a sharp breath and it changes the temperature of the air. I know it’s my imagination, but I feel his inhale swirl around me like it’s pulling me toward him. My entire body tingles under Blade’s attention.

I pull the bag of clothes more tightly against me.

Blade’s eyes are trained on me like glue. “You look…” his hoarse voice trails off as he backs up and I enter the square.

“Like fire.” Flame finishes Blade’s sentence. He flicks on a cigarette lighter, a huge grin on his handsome face that makes his blue eyes brighten. Or maybe his eyes are catching reflections from the high flame in his hand. But when he snaps the lighter shut the flickers in his blue eyes remain.

“That’s what you chose?” Phil approaches. “A tight dress and high heels? I thought we’d agreed on something practical.”

“I don’t remember making agreements about my clothing choices.” I lower the bag to my side and straighten my back. “And this isn’t the only garment I selected.” Holding it forward, I shake the bag with a pair of flat shoes and a variety of loose, linen dresses. Plus a pair of jeans and a t-shirt I don’t expect to wear. “If my dress makes you uncomfortable, well, that’s your problem.”

My cheeks flare and I can barely believe my bold words. Phil brings out the belligerent brat inside me, the girl I thought I’d left behind the day my family were assassinated.

“You think your dress makes me uncomfortable?” Phil chuckles and his hand brushes over his groin area, on purpose.

At least I think he did it on purpose, but the reaction in my own body makes me question whether my attention was drawn toward his crotch without any help from his gesture. My entire body is flushing now, not just my cheeks, and I glance between the four men, all eyeing me with attention so rapt it’s a wonder I haven’t literally caught on fire.

But my urge to cover myself has vanished. Putting one hand on my hip, I raise my chin and stick out my chest.

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