Page 8 of The Princess's Pet

“Why?” she asked, her eyebrows creasing.

“Because it reminded me of you,” I whispered, feeling completely stupid and embarrassed. What was I even thinking?

“Oh my, how sweet.” The familiar voice of Clara from this morning interrupted my growing embarrassment. I didn’t even notice we were sitting at the same table, completely preoccupied with the colourful spring flowers.

I dropped my hand, holding the flower, and my gaze to my lap.

“Clara,” the Princess spoke in a warning tone if I ever heard one.

“Oh, Selene, it’s absolutely adorable. Your servant is a little witch, something you forgot to mention, growing pretty flowers for you.” She giggled. I felt my cheeks flaming.

“A half-witch, nothing special. Growing flowers is all it can do,” the Princess responded, “and it is my colours,” she added, reaching into my lap and taking the pansy from me, before pushing the stem through her hair and behind her ear.

She didn’t respond in any other way, but I couldn’t help smiling at my flower behind her ear.

A lobster roll and salad were placed in front of me by a server.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” I made sure to thank the Princess for my meal, and she leaned down beside me and spoke softly.

“Good girl. Eat.”

3. Where Do I Sleep?

For the rest of the afternoon, I felt lighter. Maybe it was because I had a good meal in my stomach. My legs felt stronger, and nausea had left me.

I followed the Princess to two more lectures, and although a part of me hoped that she would reach out and touch me in some way, she did not.

But my flower sat at her ear, a reminder that she accepted my gift. It brought a smile to my face every time I glanced and saw it there. It made me believe that maybe my soul match wasn’t as mean as she seemed at first. Maybe we could form a bond.

We were driving back to the Royal student residence hall, and again I could feel her eyes on me. Her eyes were always on me whenever we were in private, it seemed.

“You did well today,” she told me, and I felt the praise warm in my chest.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

She hummed in response, and soon we were pulling up outside the mansion.

I got out and opened her door, and followed her through the corridors to her rooms still guarded by a Royal guard.

As soon as the guard had closed the door heavily behind us, she grabbed my wrist, pulling me against her. Her other hand reached up and freed the flower from her hair. “A pretty little flower,” she commented, twisting it between her fingers. Then she carelessly threw it down, taking my waist in her hands. “What am I to do with you?” she asked, but I don’t think she expected an answer.

Suddenly my mouth felt dry as she pulled me closer, flush with herself.

“My little pet,” she husked, leaning down and brushing her nose against my neck. I stilled, the pain from last night was still very much there. “Scared I’ll take another bite,” she spoke against my skin. “A reasonable fear, I certainly want to.” She laughed before pulling away and pushing me down to the couch.

“But I have more control than most,” she said, standing over me. “I worry you think me soft.” She took a step towards me, leaning over and her hands bracing the back of the couch on either side of my head and blocking me in. “Do you think me soft, pet? Hmm, is that why you picked a flower for me?” she continued, her voice becoming less sweet and more menacing as she spoke. A chill ran down my spine.

“No, Ma’am,” I answered. There was certainly nothing soft about her at that moment. She leaned in closer to me, her lips so near to mine I could hardly breathe.

“I don’t believe that’s true. I think you believe that being my soul match means you’re special,” she almost hissed.

“I thought that soul matches were special,” I whispered, confused. She laughed coldly.

“Maybe if you were another pureblood; if you weren’t a filthy, weak, little mongrel, then maybe I’d have given a bond a chance,”she growled low, her black as night hair falling past her shoulders, blocking me in and holding me hostage as much as her arms. “You can be a sweet little pet, plucking flowers for me and looking up at me with those big doe eyes, but I don’t ever want you to forget your actual place.”

She paused as she brought her knees up on the couch to straddle me. A hand wrapped around my neck, as she continued to look down at me with a sneer on her lips and fangs elongated and visible, the first time I had seen them. The sight screamed danger.

“Your only real value to me is your blood. You’ll be my personal bloodbag for as long as possible, and if you’re lucky I might fuck you,” she hissed, tightening her grip on my neck. Her words sent fear through me, her glowing silver eyes indicated she was truly feeling what she spoke. Perhaps most concerning though, was how my body responded to the practically threatening comment that she might fuck me. I worried that she could sense my reaction, maybe even feel the way my core tensed at her words.

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