Page 5 of The Princess's Pet

We were in a bed—her bed, I assumed. I was still wearing my old blue jeans and scruffy gardening top, but my shoes had been removed. I lay on top of the covers. The Princess beside me had changed at some point for bed and now sat in deep pink satin shorts and top. They looked comfortable. She looked comfortable, as I gazed at her tiredly.

“You slept for quite a while. It’s late morning now,” the Princess said, and I went to speak in reply, but my mouth and throat were achingly dry and I felt weaker than I ever had before. “Wait here,” she commanded as she stood effortlessly from the bed, leaving the room and returning swiftly with a glass of water in hand.

“Sit up further,” she instructed as she sat the glass down on a dark, wooden ornate bedside table. I stilled when she then leaned over me, fixing the pillows behind my back. “There, come on now,” she commanded, looking at me with impatience after she pulled back. I shuffled further up, sitting more properly, resting against the thick and luxurious pillows. She watched me for a moment, and I watched her myself—waiting, expecting something to happen, to be attacked maybe. She picked the glass back up and handed it to me.

I sipped the water, and it burned its way down my dry throat.

The Princess retook her place on the bed beside me and watched as I drank. I couldn’t read her expression, but she didn’t seem unhappy—quite the opposite.

“You taste splendid. I dare say I’m still feeling a little high. I’ve never had a bloodhigh last so long.” She reached out, moving my hair behind my shoulder, and the glass in my hand stilled halfway to my lips. Her fingers danced ever so lightly, barely a touch, over my neck before retreating. “I almost drank a bit too much. What a shame it would have been to lose a source like you so soon,” she contemplated, as she withdrew her hand from my neck.

Bloodhigh—I’d heard of it—a sort of euphoria only pureblood vampires could feel when feeding. It was my understanding that not every blood source created a bloodhigh, that it was something unique to each individual vampire and prey. It explained the small smile that graced the Princess’s lips. I couldn't help but notice how pretty she was when she smiled like that. I had, of course, seen her beauty yesterday—it was impossible not to—but she was far less intimidating, sat in her pyjamas and smiling like that. It softened her beauty in a way.

I turned slowly, the pain in my neck a reminder that the pretty Princess beside me was dangerous and deadly, as I sat the now empty glass down.

When I turned back, the Princess had moved—without disturbing the bed—much closer to me. I managed to control myself and not flinch.

“Does it hurt?” she questioned, her eyes trained on my neck.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I spoke softly, my throat sore and voice gravelly.

“Hmm, I’ll get some painkillers and balm sent up,” she said, before reaching out and once again trailing her fingers along my neck, her silver eyes sparkling. “Did you enjoy it?” she asked, and I did not expect the question.

My face flamed hot with embarrassment as I remembered how it felt. I didn’t want to enjoy it. I wasn’t sure it even was enjoyable. But as I remembered how her lips had kissed my neck endlessly, how her teeth had teased my flesh, and her wet tongue had soothed the nip, I felt inexplicably hotter.

“No,” I said, focusing my eyes away from her.

A soft growl made me look up at her. Her eyes held mirth as her chest rumbled. She pushed herself up and over me, sitting down and trapping me between her strong thighs and her hands held my shoulders. I forgot how to breathe.

“No one likes a liar,” she said seriously, but her eyes crinkled. “And you must always address me with the appropriate respect,” she continued, leaning forward, her nose pressing painfully into my neck where I was sure her fangs had been the night before. “I can smell your reaction,” she breathed against my collarbone.

I’d never been more embarrassed in my life. I knew purebloods had heightened strength, speed, and well everything—but it hadn’t occurred to me that they could smell... arousal.

She pulled back and locked her, brighter now, eyes with mine.

“A real treat you are.” She laughed lightly, sitting back, her hands bracing on my thighs. “I’ll have to be careful not to overindulge.” She paused, and looked at me in a way that could only be described as playful before continuing “But you’d probably like it if I indulged just a little, hmm?” she winked, and I choked. Her laughter filled the room.

I looked away, feeling my face heat impossibly more. She rolled herself off me and stood from the bed.

“As fun as it is watching you blush and bring that sweet blood to the surface, I do have classes to attend,” she said, opening a large closet and pulling out a deep blood-red uniform. She looked up at me as she turned around. “Go shower now. I’ll have a guard fetch a servant’s uniform for you,” she said, before dismissively waving her hand.

It took my body a few painfully slow moments to follow my instruction to stand, and when I did I had to pause to let the dizziness and nausea pass. Eventually, I stumbled my way to the bathroom. It was large and very bright now that the sun was out.

There was a separate bath and shower. I walked over to the shower, turned it on and then looked around, opening a cupboard to find a towel and leaving it on the side of the bath for after. Under the sink, I found a spare toothbrush in new packaging and used it. Once my teeth were clean, I slowly and shakily removed my clothing. The mirror in front of the sink revealed that my neck was littered with small, dark blue hickeys and two puncture wounds—red and inflamed—where the Princess’s fangs had pierced me.

I took my time in the shower, untangling my hair carefully and cleaning up my neck as gently as I could.

Afterward, I exited the bathroom wrapped in an oversized towel. The Princess was sitting on the couch, seemingly waiting for me. Her eyes trailed over me, and I took a half step back towards the bathroom but was stopped in my tracks by her look.

“There is a servant uniform and fresh undergarments in the bedroom,” she said, her eyes never leaving me. I made my way towards the room and softly closed the door behind me.

While I had seen, from what the Princess wore, that the student uniform was deep red—consisting of a white blouse, red blazer, black trousers, dress shoes, and a red-and-gold tie —the servant's uniform was different, if not similar. It was simple, with no gold trim, but the greatest difference was that it was not red but midnight-blue. The Borealis star crest rested on the breast pocket, and the tie was solid blue to match the blazer.

I tied the dress shoes and made for the door, still shaky on my legs. The collar of my shirt covered most of the evidence of last night, and my hair falling past my shoulders hid the rest.

In the living area, the Princess was still seated, still waiting. Like the previous night, she called me to her with just the curving of a finger.

I walked more hesitantly than before to her.

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