Page 20 of The Princess's Pet

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“O-okay.” I followed her into the stall, and the Princess locked the stall door behind me.

She set the sports bag on a bench and shrugged out of her red blazer before her fingers began to unbutton her shirt. I turned my head away, looking at the floor, my face flushed.

“You’re not even tempted to look?” she asked, and I glanced to see her in only a tight-fitting workout top and her panties. I looked away again quickly.

“You don’t mind, Ma’am?” I asked, my mouth very dry and heat rising up my neck.

“Your concern for my modesty is endearing,” she replied without answering me. “Pass me the chest guard,” she said, and I looked up. The Princess wore all black from her sports tank top to her leggings, even her designer gyms shoes were black.

I stepped forward and set the armour I held on the bench carefully and held up the chest armour. It wasn’t light, and my arms burned from the few minutes I held it while she changed. But the Princess took it from me and placed it over her head strapping the sides in place with ease.

“The arm-and-elbow guards now,” she instructed, and I handed them over one at a time and watched her strap them securely onto her forearms.

“Gloves,” I handed her the supple leather gloves and watched as she pulled them on her strong hands.

She was striking standing in her skin-tight black clothing and silver-grey armour, which paled in comparison to her eyes. She was a strong figure. My eyes were pulled to her shoulders, softly defined biceps, and her thighs, my mind wandering to how it might feel to have those thighs wrapped around me.

I looked up, meeting the Princess’s glowing eyes when she cleared her throat.

“Having dirty thoughts, pet?” she whispered, stepping closer to me. I tried to speak, but made no sound.

Her gloved hand lifted my jaw, angling my face upwards. She bent down, glowing molten silver never leaving my eyes, and pressed her lips against mine gently. It was a simple peck before she pulled away, her hand still at my jaw. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the time or privacy to investigate what’s got you so hot, my pet,” she spoke softly, dropping her hand. My face was flushed, and my lips tingled where hers had touched mine.

“That was nice,” I murmured to myself, feeling dazed.

The Princess only hummed, amused, in response before unlocking the stall.

She led me into a large hall that was painfully loud with shouting and the clashing of metal. All around the roompurebloods in more armour than the Princess wore swung weapons at each other.

“My Royal Highness, Princess Selene Borealis, thank you for joining us,” a man in no armour walked over to us, greeting the Princess. “Flynn is fetching your preferred sparring sword.” And as if on cue, a door across the room flung open and a young man rushed out carrying a large sword.

He bowed his head, holding the sword out towards the Princess.

She took the weapon, which was far too large and sharp for my liking, smoothly.

“Pet, look at the floor, do you see how there are sparring boxes marked in red?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, looking at the floor, and noticing how all the sparring couples stayed within large marked-out boxes.

“Under no circumstances are you allowed to pass over any red lines, am I clear?” she commanded.

“Very, Ma’am,” I answered.

“You are to stay in spaces blocked off in green. These are the viewing areas and are the safest zones in the room,” she explained, and I looked down to see that we were standing in a green boxed space. “I will be sparring there.” She pointed with her free hand to the nearest red box. “You will stay here and not move unless I tell you to,” she said sternly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, nodding my head, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. She grinned slightly at me. I had no intention of going anywhere near any sharp and pointy thing currently being swung or tossed within the room.

“My Royal Highness, you finally arrive,” a man I hadn’t seen approaching, said as he neared. He was tall, an inch or two tallerthan the Princess, and broad in his shoulders. In one hand he held a sword similar to the Princess, and he ran his free hand through his dark, well-groomed hair. He looked every bit a noble, pureblood shifter, yellow eyes passing over the Princess appreciatively. And I instantly disliked him and his handsome face.

“Lord Halvorsen,” the Princess replied curtly. “Thank you for your patience, I have been looking forward to sparring with you. I hope the rumours of your delicate ego are not true, as I intend on thrashing you mercilessly,” the Princess greeted in return.

“My Royal Highness, please call me Oskar.” He smiled widely, and I hated his perfect white smile too. “I assure you, any ego I have is well earned. I will not go lightly on you, Princess or not. Perhaps experiencing an opponent that does not hold back will show the Princess why it’s so important to have a capable king by her side.”

Did he just suggest he could be a suitable match for the Princess when she becomes Queen? Was he flirting with the Princess?

The Princess responded by laughing melodically.

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