Page 50 of Princess Avenged

“Does everyone you know speak multiple languages?” I ask, as we approach the long table where I was last working. I’m both pleased and worried that the books are still open. Shifting, I block her view of the illustrations showing what this demon will do to our world if he gains more power.

“Most people I’ve known, both as a child and as a vampire, spoke several languages.” Dropping my hand, she leans onto the back of one of the chairs. “I suppose that comes from growing up in a royal family.”

Her head tips. “Perhaps some of the newly made vampires I’ve met speak only one language.” She shakes her head as if she never considered it before.

“For example, I have no idea whether Selina or Ember speak or understand more than English.” Raising her hands from the back of the chair, she draws in a long breath. “Another reminder of how isolated I was in this palace.”

“I’m sorry you were trapped here.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t trapped. And I wasn’t complaining, either. I’m just realizing how my life has been beyond privileged. The language skills of most people I’ve encountered is only a reflection of that privilege.”

Determination solidifies on her face. “And all this reminds me that I don’t want to waste any more of my life living in palaces. Based on what little I’ve seen of the world, I better understand the suffering of so many vampires—whether it’s because they lack a safe community, or resources, or whether they’re under constant threat from humans or each other.”

She shakes her head. “I want to do good in the world. To make a difference.”

I pull her into my arms, hugging her tightly and loving how her tiny form molds into mine, how our heartbeats quickly sync up, and how her hands stroke over my ribcage and then my shoulder blades, making me want to hold her like this forever.

She pulls back, but her eyes are smiling as she looks into mine. “Enough hugging. We both know what that could lead to.” She winks. “Get carried away and we won’t even look at one book.”

“Books? What are books?” I grin, and she laughs.

“Did your dedication to public duty come from your parents?” I ask her, wanting to know everything about her at once, and wishing I had something beyond a few history books about her family to help me understand her more quickly. “Or did that come from King Dunkan?”

She pulls out a chair and drops into it. I push the horrific illustrations behind me as I lean over the table.

“I’ve already seen that picture,” she says. “There’s no need to hide it from me.”

“Hide it?” Blood flushes my cheeks, making me feel like a small boy again, caught misbehaving before I learned to bury my emotions.

She reaches out for my hand. “I appreciate you trying to protect me. Really. But we need to face this together.”

Nodding, I sit in the chair next to hers. I should review the texts but can’t keep my eyes off her. Ana’s beauty, grace and delicacy belie the bravery, strength and determination I know lie underneath. Not to mention her passion and sense of adventure—sexual and otherwise.

“I don’t think it came from my parents,” she says, looking pensive.

“What didn’t?”

She grins. “My sense of duty. My desire to serve others.”

“Oh, yes. Forgive me for losing track of our conversation. I get lost when I look into your eyes.”

Her teeth scrape her lower lip, and my cock turns to stone.

Shifting, I fight to ignore its demands. “Where did it come from then?”

“Do you mean my eyes’ ability to distract you?” She winks.

“That’s no mystery.” I trace the back of her hand as it rests on the highly polished table, marveling at the daintiness of her bones, the softness of her skin, the power housed in the blood that’s surging in the tiny veins and capillaries under its surface.

“I’ve never really thought about where my sense of duty came from.” She tips her head to the side and strands of her long hair brush the table’s surface. “When I was human, our family was royal, but it was my little brother Alexei who was trained to rule. And even amongst the girls, I was fourth born. My sisters and I…” She draws a long breath. “We were ornamental, and little was expected of us beyond being decorative and ladylike.”

“I wasn’t good at either.” She shakes her head and her brow furrows. “We girls were treated like distractions, like obstacles put in the way of father having an heir. It drove me crazy.” Her eyes glance up to the ceiling. “I acted out—a lot. In hindsight, I was a total brat.” A mischievous grin teases her face that quickly turns sad. “I failed to live up to the feminine standards expected of me.”

I turn over her hand and stroke her palm. “I can’t imagine anyone more refined or ladylike than you.”

Her smile shows some appreciation for my compliment, and then she touches my bare forearm, and the impact of the added skin-on-skin contact is electric. I fight to control myself.

“Thanks,” she says, “but you haven’t exactly known a lot of women, have you?”

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