Page 9 of A Bond in Blood

“Now, princess,” Olen said with a wink.

“I’m going to request you stop calling me that.”

Olen grinned. “Why? That’s what you are. Your father is the king of that quaint little island. Making you a princess.”

I glanced back at the door. “Then treat me like one.”

Olen stared back at me, his smile unfaltering.

“That’s the thing, princess.” He stalked closer, forcing me to step back toward the door. “You aren’t my fucking princess.”

His hand moved and I jumped, expecting him to hit me but instead I fell onto the floor again as he flung the door open behind me.

“Get in there,” he said again.

I refused to look back. “What’s in there?”

“Attire appropriate for your king,” he replied.

I huffed out my chest, pulling myself to my feet. “He’s not my king.”

“Yet.” Olen grinned wider. “Go. Now.”

He shoved against my shoulders, forcing me to turn into the room. I stumbled, my eyes bulging while I took in the grand space before me.

Bright candles lit the room, creating a semi-sensual glow cascading up the walls, turning into a path of light toward the middle of the room. There, the largest bed I’d ever seen sat covered in black sheets and a velvet blanket folded at the foot. It called to me, telling me to climb into its tempting comfort.

My eyes moved from the bed to the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with additional red light from the blood moon.

It was a room that—for all intents and purposes—exuded sex.

I ignored the sensual design and walked forward, taking note of the two exits. The one I’d been rudely shoved through, and two double doors leading out to where I assumed was the rest of the king’s palace.

“Is this my room?” I asked, trying not to sound too enamored.

Olen chuckled. “Yes. It’s yours.”

My eyes caught the sheer red dress hanging on the dressing screen across from me and I turned back to Olen.

“I am not wearing that,” I exclaimed, pointing.

“You’re wearing what the king demanded. Get dressed,” he replied, setting himself in a chair near the window and folding his arms.

We held our gazes, and I realized he wasn’t moving until I did as he said. For a moment I considered arguing, but relented, too tired to fight someone so godsdamn stubborn.

Scuffling to the screen, I slipped around it and shucked off my dress. I was suddenly disgusted that I hadn’t once asked for my trunks on our journey. My own stench made me wince and I cursed myself.

“I stink!” I yelled over the screen.

“Welcome to sea travel. The king has smelled worse,” Olen replied bluntly. “There’s soap and a wash basin beside you. Hurry up.”

I scoffed, taking note of the basin and soap. Unwilling to meet the wrath of the fae who shifted into a monster, I wiped myself as clean as I could before sliding the gown over my head.

How the king had known my exact size was beyond me, but the dress was a perfect fit.

I turned, finding a mirror behind me. I hadn’t stared at my own reflection since the day in my bedroom and the woman staring back at me was alarming. The dark circles were evidence of my disdain for ships. The unruly waves of my hair, like the sea itself had whipped it into a frenzy atop my head.

I flipped my head back and quickly ran my fingers through the knots, wincing at the pain.

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