Page 43 of Cruel Crown

Daphne made the first move and stuck her hand out with her pointer finger directed at my eyes. With my forearm, I pushed her away; that’s when she turned her heel and lifted her leg, trying to kick the arm that had the knife. I turned my body to the side, so her kick landed on my shoulder. I hit again, making sure the blade wasn’t pointing at her, but she blocked all my shots with her forearms.

When she threw a punch at me, I caught it and twisted her arm and pulled her toward me, making her arse push against my hard cock. “I’m so fucking hard right now, Petal.”

The words were barely whispered in her ear when she threw her head back, slamming it against my jaw. Her elbow came down to hit my side, and her leg stomped on my toes.

She got out of my hold easily enough and tried to flip me over, but I pulled my leg out, standing more firmly, and then since she was holding on to me for balance, I flipped us both. The blade cut into my skin a bit, making me bleed. Both Daphne and I got up right away. We continued to fight, both of us causing enough damage to make it hurt both not enough that it would incapacitate.

Sweat was starting to drip from both of our foreheads, and neither one of us was ready to call it quits. I cut a quick glance at Damian, watching the impatient look in his eyes. That’s when I felt Daphne’s kick on my cheek.

I took a step out to her, and then I faked a right and took a left. She tried to throw another kick at me, but I ducked it, and then from behind, I held her neck in a viselike grip.

“I’m going to fuck you hard tonight, baby,” I said through gritted teeth. I loosened my hold, and she stepped out to the side, our arms now entwined. Before she could move, I kneed her behind her knee and she went down, and I went down with her. I caught myself before I landed on her. Our noses were touching, both our chests breathing heavily.

I could taste the frustration coming out of her lips, and damn if it wasn’t sweet. She was close enough for me to kiss her that it was physically painful to hold myself back. I looked at her lips, wishing I could taste her jealousy and anger, then show her why she was mine, but I refrained. My eyes made it to her eyes, and that willpower I had so proudly found almost vanished. Her eyes were dark as a storm, ready to wreak havoc on anything that stood in its path. She was as turned on as I was.

Making sure my lips remained unmoving, I spoke to her, knowing I had seconds before she made her next move. “No one but I get to pull your hair. No one but I get to fuck you ever again.”

I rose, making sure she was trapped between my legs, but the little bitch bucked, and when I brought my hand with no knife down to steady myself, she grabbed it and bent the wrist.

That’s when I forced my wrist to twist back, fully aware it was going to get fucking swollen. Then I pulled her by her sports bra and brought one of my legs up a bit and put it on top of her legs instead.

When she was elevated enough, I removed my weight off her and flipped her over. Before she got her composure, I grabbed her braid below her nape and pulled it hard, causing her head to bend back. Then I brought my hand with the knife and cut the tail of the braid right off. Right after that, I dropped the knife right in front of Daphne’s face so she would see I had won.

“Only. Me,” I told her, thrusting my hips so she could feel my arousal. I quickly got up and threw the braid at Damian’s feet, and I hoped my plan had fucking worked.

Damian wanted to see Daphne humiliated. She was a warrior and a damn good fucking fighter. For years her braided hair had been part of her signature style, and I had just taken that from her. Scars heal quickly, and bones bend, but her hair would take years to grow back to how it was. And every day looking at the mirror, she would be reminded of who did that to her. As for Daphne, I knew she would be reminded of me, but I knew her, and I could bet my life she didn’t give a fuck about a mundane thing like long hair. She would be pissed but not because I took her precious hair.

She turned around, and her chest was rising and falling, retribution written all over her face, but all I could focus on was the lust.

When I looked up, Damian was holding the braid in his hand and had a satisfied grin on his face.

Daphne

I looked myself in the mirror as I fluffed my hair out. The hair was uneven, and I was going to have to trim it a bit more, but Gideon had done what he’d intended. There was barely any length for me to pull myself.

Once that was done, I rinsed my mouth and washed my face. I didn’t know what came over me, but in that fight, at that moment, I wanted to hurt Francesca for taking something that belonged to me.

Jealousy was one hell of a bitch.

When I looked a bit better, I came out of the bathroom.

“Ah, mykrasivaya printsessa,” my dedushka said. I smiled at him and was glad today was one of the days he was lucid. I didn’t know which days I preferred anymore. Walking over to his closet, I grabbed a sweater and put it on.

My babushka was born into this life, but my grandfather was not. He’d come into this world because he fell in love with my grandmother, and she fell in love with the idea of him, but the burden of our kingdom buried her too far from his reach.

Deep down, I believed it was his unconditional love that healed her enough to love me. That or the fact that she knew my mom was a dipshit, and I was the only one left to fix the errors of our forefathers. Either way, I got handed an invisible crown that buried me a few feet into the ground.

“How are you feeling today?” I told him as I went to the bag I had brought with me. I didn’t know if I preferred him with his memories intact or the days he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. It was a tossup between the two. But sometimes having him ask for my grandmother or mistaking her for me, it tore at me at how much he missed her.

“Oh, you know these bones aren’t what they used to be. The arthritis is getting worse.”

I nodded understandingly. The hazard of these jobs included an early grave or pain in our bodies for abusing it.

“I’ll have you feeling like you’re twenty-three again,” I said to him as I ran my hand over his bald head. He laughed it up and pushed the button on his bed and reclined it.

He had one of the best rooms—most of the older members did because the heat was more constant here, and it gave them the most sunlight. A lot of them lived here year-round; it was the least we could do for them since there were few who made it to this age.

“Ah, to be twenty-three again,” he said wistfully. “That was the year the first hydrogen bomb was detonated here, and the queen of England was crowned.” He trailed off and then looked at me. “I don’t want to be twenty-three anymore.”

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