Page 71 of Vengeful Princess

“No. I want to know what happened after you left me last night.”

“Just…leave it.”

He moved closer and sat on the bed, his hand within touching distance of mine. The tension between us strung tight like a piano wire. One move from either of us and it would snap.

“I can’t leave it, my littlegadyuka.I need to know who hurt you so I can hurt them ten times more.”

“If you did, I can guarantee they’d be dead,” I snorted. It was a strange feeling knowing someone cared about my well-being. My father certainly never had. Dar was the only person who’d ever told me he cared. Dar, the boy a younger, more naïve version of me, had stupidly thought she was in love with.

Kyril’s fingers brushed mine as he leaned in, his eyes dark pools of obsidian. A bottomless well I could drown in. Lines of ink swirled above the collar of his tee. I itched to explore his tattoos. Trace them with my fingers.

“Tell me, Thea,” he repeated in a low, melodic voice. I shivered with suppressed need, my body remembering all the wicked things he’d done with his tongue and fingers last night before it all went to shit.

“I can’t tell you, Kyril. It’s family business.”

His gaze sharpened. “Family?”

“Drop it, please.” Why couldn’t he leave me the fuck alone? I needed to pee and sleep some more. I didn’t need a man hovering over me like an overprotectivenonna. Not that I knew what having anonnawas like. I’d never met mine. They both died before I was born. It seemed a common occurrence in our family tree; the women never lived to a ripe old age.

Funny that.

Kyril threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! You can keep your secrets… for now.” Then he leaned in and stroked my poorbruised cheek. “But when I do find out who did this to you - and rest assured, I will - they are a dead man walking.”

38

Thea

Just as I crawled back into bed, I heard a knock on my door. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t people just leave me in peace? I was starting to think I’d have been better off if Torrance had finished the job. At least if I was dead, I’d get some sleep.

I ignored the knocking, but within a minute, my phone began to ring.

And ring.

Landon your future husband: Open the door.

I picked up my phone and edited his name in the contacts toFuckboy. It seemed appropriate, given what I knew about him. While I was thankful for his help in the shower last night/this morning, I was under no illusions about his motives. He probably thought helping me when I was in a bad spot would lead directly into my pants.

Spoiler alert: not a chance.

Me: No.

Fuckboy: I have heat/ice packs and chicken soup.

I hesitated. A heat pack would be useful. It might help the bruises fade quicker. Ice pack too. Then my stomach rumbled loudly, reminding me I’d eaten nothing since last night, and it was now early evening.

Me: I can’t move.

Before I’d even put my phone down, the door clicked open and Landon hustled in, looking like every girl’s wet dream in a tight white tee and gray joggers. It took a lot of effort on my part not to stare, particularly at the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. I’d seen his cock. I knew exactly how large it was.

But then I reminded myself how awful I looked. The mirror hadn’t lied when I’d dragged myself into the bathroom a few minutes ago.

It told me I looked like a girl who’d had the shit kicked out of her.Oh wait. I had.

“How are you feeling, gorgeous?” He sat down on the bed and scanned my face and torso. Feeling way too exposed in my loose tee and panties, I pulled the sheet up over my breasts and scowled.

“Like the least gorgeous woman in the known universe, but I’ll be fine.”

Ignoring my petulance, he smiled. “I have a heat pad for your ribs and an ice pack for your face. Kyril says they’ll help bring the bruising down and ease the inflammation.” He was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

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