Page 90 of Princess Broken

Crusher grunts and his expression shifts slightly. Looking into his eyes, I try to figure out what he’s thinking, but I can’t.

“Go on,” he says after I pause for too long.

I shrug. “There’s not a lot more to say. One of my mandates as Royal Ambassador, the main reason I was sent to America in fact, was to negotiate an end to these illegitimate agreements, and to bring these organizations under the cloak of the lawful vampiric world.”

“You talk of diplomacy, and yet you brought armed guards to the meeting,” Crusher says. “You were expecting violence.”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t. I’d met with Mariano Syndicate representatives before that day, without incident. I fully believed we were making headway in our negotiations. I thought that night’s meeting would solidify our deal.

“Mariano knew what I was offering. So he could save face, we were giving him a senior executive position at DEFTA, “ I tell Crusher. “The title at least. And membership for his entire syndicate. We promised leniency to his team—in some cases outright forgiveness—for past crimes.”

Sighing I shake my head, thinking back to that night. I should have argued harder about the guards. Bringing heavy security was a mistake. I should have listened to my instincts.

“It was DEFTA’s head of security who insisted on sending a full team of guards,” I tell Crusher, in case it’s relevant, but not mentioning that it was Timur who talked me into it. “I thought it was a mistake.”

“Diederik?” Crusher leans toward me.

“You know him?”

He leans back. “That I do.” Based on Crusher’s expression, he dislikes Diederik even more than I do.

“Knowing it was Diederik’s idea to send an armed team is valuable information,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Like I said. I’ll tell you anything and everything I know.”

Crusher nods. “Before the shooting began, did you have any indication that Mariano would try to kill you? Or capture you? Did Diederik believe that he might?”

I shake my head. “Nothing specific. Diederik did claim I didn’t understand what I was getting myself in to. But his warning just seemed patronizing. A control move.”

Crusher nods as if he understands what I mean. “And what of your mate? When he was killed, he was holding a crossbow. Could he have been the real target? Can you think of anyone who might want him dead?”

I look away, memories of Timur suddenly too much to bear.

“Timur had no enemies,” I tell Crusher, although I realize that, while I saw my blood partner every time one of us needed to feed, we never shared personal details. Did I even know Timur? He kept so much from me, telling me for years that he was a eunuch and concealing his tender feelings toward me.

Crusher clears his throat. “All of this reinforces my belief that your mate saved your life. He wasn’t trying to kill you. He was trying to protect you.”

My head bows. Of course he wasn’t trying to kill me. And I’m shocked to think Crusher believed otherwise.

Crusher shifts to the side of my chair and his arm falls heavily around my shoulders. “Princess, once again, I am profoundly sorry for your loss, and especially for our part in it. My part in it.” His voice lowers at the end.

I absorb the comfort of Crusher’s embrace, but feel more guilt and confusion than sorrow. I certainly don’t mourn Timur in the way these men think I do.

And now…

Crusher’s earthy scent and the warmth of his strong body overtake my senses, squeezing out my ability to think of anything beyond this big vampire, so close, his heavy armed draped around me. His heart beats loudly in my ear, a strong thump, a constant, predictable rhythm that brings me solace, acceptance of all that has happened.

It’s not my fault that I didn’t love Timur. I should be more truthful with these men, release them from their false obligation. If I explain they had no duty to protect me, perhaps they’d escort me back to DEFTA.

Regardless, telling Crusher is the right thing to do.

“I haven’t told you the whole truth about that day,” I say softly.

Crusher’s arm slides off me, but he stays at the side of my chair, kneeling next to the arm, staying close.

“Tell me everything you can,” he says softly, without judgment. “I know this must be very difficult.”

I drag in a long breath. He doesn’t know the half of it. “First, my reaction, during the attack and after Timur was killed. You got the wrong idea about why I froze in fear. Why I failed to fight back or protect myself.” I turn toward him.

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