Page 30 of Bathed in Blood

I should be proud, but all I can see is that sad fucking look in her eyes. I’d wanted to talk to her, rambled on in my head for hours about how I would explain, how I would try to make her understand why I couldn’t fail at this, at least until I found a way out. She had to be the Blood Princess. I wanted to tell her, Lana, that I… God, that I fucking can’t breathe until I slip back into that bedroom with her. My bedroom that no longer smells like me, one where I find silky strands of red hair on fucking everything.

Where she reorganized my bookshelf. By color.

A fucking rainbow.It’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen but I wouldn’t dare change it.

How even in her vulnerable, quiet moments, when she’s lost and sad, she hurls sunlight into a space that has never seen it before. I want to hear more about the clouds. It’s all on the tip of my tongue.

If I could single-handedly capture a snuff icon, bring down our only real competitor, bust my ass for the past three weeks organizing the end of the Sullivan family line…Icould tell a woman I had fucking fallen so damn hard for her, it feels like my brain will explode.

Then, I saw the brand. How had I fucking missed it?

Theirfucking symbol onmyprincess.

It wasn’t her fault. God, it wasn’t her fault.

But I wanted to hurt her for it.

I did, in the worst way possible because again, I’m a fucking bastard.

Neither of us remembers how to communicate in terms of love and kindness, but she and I undoubtedly speak the same violent language. It was force fed to us until we gorged. She’ll understand. She’ll have to, even if she hates the way it tastes. She’ll have me, even if the violence chokes her to fucking death.

The sound of heels clicking on polished floors halts me in my tracks, my head snapping towards the door. When Jesse snickers, I level my glare at him, hoping it would burn a hole in his throat. It doesn’t. When the heels stop, I’m having a hard time turning my eyes back to the owner. It’s the widening, appreciative look in my brother’s eyes that forces me to face her.

My knuckles pop.

The guard behind her simply nods, mentioning a few things I can’t focus on. I wrack my brain, trying to identify every member of staff who would’ve seen her on her path down here. She glares at me, and I meet it tenfold, my voice strained. “I left a robe for you.”

She drags a deep breath through her lungs, making her pert nipples push even harder against the satin fabric of the lingerie I chose for her. It's more befitting a nun than the Blood Princess. The silk top cuts low into her cleavage, the back doing the same in a deep V, the top ending just above her delicate bellybutton, one I’ve tasted more times than I can count in the past two weeks. The shorts come up high on the sides, hugging her perfect ass and rounding hips. The deep, emerald green fabric clings to her skin as if it were painted on. I know her ass is bared. My jaw clenches as she turns towards my brother.

Away from me.

My eyes find the place I know their brand sits high on her hip, underneath the clothes. My heart thuds loudly in my chest as that anger from earlier needles away at any valiant good guy intentions I might’ve deluded myself into having. I told myself I dressed her this way for her, that I did it for her comfort. The princess ismine.

The days of having her ass, cunt and tits bared during streams are over. The days of pretending like she isn’t mine are over.

“I’d like to begin,” she comments casually, pushing her long hair over her shoulders before slipping her mask on.

Jesse’s eyes flick to mine. Whatever he sees there makes him shift on his feet. “Yeah, that’s more of Christian’s domain. I’m just here for the show.”

My sweet, sad Lana is nowhere to be seen as my princess glimpses at me over her shoulder. I can feel her amber eyes through the eerie doll mask before she turns away. It’s like being held captive in the desert before being dropped ass first into Siberia. Weeks of having her gentle hands and soft kisses make this version of her seem more severe. This is the woman from my dreams, the one I watched for hours, the one who teased me, giggling and twirling like a child while I laid on her table.

She laughs, not a real one. No, it’s a focused, flirty sounding thing, and I’m nearly positive I’ve ruptured a blood vessel in my eye. I’m almost certainly on the fast track to a fucking aneurysm, because so help me Lana, if you speak to him like that again—

“I’ll make it a good one then. The guard told me we started in ten, and that was six minutes ago. I’d hate to be late to my own show.”

Jesse looks at me, near panicked now. I’m choosing to ignore his chubbed cock, because if I acknowledge it now, I will almost certainly kill a second sibling.

I'm already halfway across the room when my shit-head brother’s panicked expression is traded for a smirk. My gun feels feather light as I jerk it from my jacket holster, the ear rattling shot rings out, making my princess flinch, just barely. The guard who escorted her body slumps to the floor as I press the side against her neck, caressing her with it.

“You look stunning, but let's remember whose fingers you’ve been fucking yourself on for the past two weeks. Speak to him like that again, and running behind schedule will be the last of your concerns.”

Her fists tighten at her sides, the mask shifting as she clenches her jaw. “Fingers, tongue, thighs, but what I wanted was a coc—"

My breath leaves me in rough pants as I press the muzzle underneath her chin, forcing her to step back into me, her ass rubbing against my constant erection despite the deafening rage. “Jesse, a moment,” I growl against her ear.

My brother's smirk is fully back in place as he dips his head. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Blood Princess. You’ll fit in just fine here.”

I track him as he steps over the guard's body, letting the heavy automatic doors to the lower compound slide shut, pushing the man's body as they do. “Lana—"

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