Page 4 of Praise Me: Princess

Suddenly, the princess shoots to her feet. “I’d rather not say,” she blurts, her voice ever so slightly uneven. In a way that makes my head ache with the desire to consume the sight of her.No. Not yet.“Mother, if I succeed in leaving the palace tomorrow and suffer no ill effects, would you please grant the commander his leave?”

The queen purses her lips. “I’ll consider it, yes.”

“Thank you,” murmurs Greta, bowing her head. “May I be excused?”

“Yes, you may.”

Every muscle in my body begins to coil because she is turning away from the desk now to face me. Each one of her soft footfalls on the rug unbalances the scales inside of me, my heart heavy and burdensome with its oddly rapid pumping. Whereas beforeI was determined not to look at Greta out of spite, now I’m terrified to set eyes on her face. Somehow, I know looking at her is going to be a major problem.

When she stops in front of me, I keep my attention trained on a spot in the distance, using every last ounce of strength I possess to ignore her.

I last approximately six seconds.

I can’t put into words what it’s like to see her face in person for the first time, now that she’s a woman. Only that there are emotions that have been shelved inside of my chest without my knowledge and now everything on those shelves tumbles down. It’s almost offensive how beautiful she is with her deep blonde hair and porcelain skin, a mouth that must put shameful thoughts in men’s heads. Even mine, if I allowed myself, which I will not. Her mouth has nothing to do with me.

Nor do her eyes.

Her…enchanting blue eyes that look up at me now with apology.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, snapping my inner shelves in half, every cell in my body straining in her direction. “I’ll try my best to have you free by tomorrow, Commander Larsen.”

“Good,” I bite off, in defense against whatever she’s doing to me. “The earlier the better,” I add, half gratified, half loathing myself when she flinches.

“Yes,” she says softly, casting her eyes down at the ground. “Thank you for coming, even if it will only be for a short time.”

I grunt.

I don’t know what else to say.

She’s not a nightmare, like I was expecting—and now, I wish she was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.” She rubs those succulent lips together, the action firming up my cock in a way I know is bad. Real bad.

“Tomorrow?” I hear myself say. “Who guards the princess when I’m not?”

“No one,” says the queen, breezily. “She’s safe enough within the palace walls. The incident occurred only when she left—”

“Can we please not talk about the incident?” Greta interjects.

The queen stops talking.

What is this incident they keep referring to?

“As ridiculous as I find this assignment, her safety is on my head now. As such, she’ll be secure atalltimes. Starting now.” My pride forces me to add, “My responsibility ends when this absurd exercise is over.”

The princess is very still, eyes downcast, her cheeks blazing with color.

But I won’t allow myself to regret being harsh.

Men are losing their lives up north to keep the rebels at bay and she’s scared to take a simple walk? She’s a chore. A beautiful and…unexpected one, but nothing more.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Greta says.

“There’s no excusing yourself from my presence, princess. Where you go, I go, for the moment.”

She nods. Regroups. “Then I’m due at my French lessons.”

My sweeping gesture is nothing short of mocking. “After you, oh brave and mighty princess.”

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