Page 49 of The Stolen Princess
Myka pursed her lips, looking away, making Drake snicker beside her.
Awful, awful man.
They came upon a small two-story A-frame house, and Drake knocked on the door. As they waited for it to open, Myka found herself daydreaming about jumping on Drake’s back. Was she strong enough to strangle him? Take him down? Rip out his hair? No, not that. His hair was gorgeous. The other thoughts were tempting, though, but before she could act, Cora opened the door.
Her smile was big and animated as she looked up at Drake. “Come in,” she said, holding the door open wide for them.
Myka passed through first, glancing around the room. There wasn’t much to it. Two wooden chairs were placed in front of a fireplace and there appeared to be a small kitchen behind that, but Myka could only see the wood-burning stove from the front door. The house looked as though the occupants were as destitute as Rommel and Joett. Was everyone in Tolsten living in squalor? Or just the traitors? The stark contrast of her life compared to theirs made something inside of her feel bad, like she should be apologizing for their circumstances as if it was somehow her fault.
“We have a bathroom the princess can use to clean herself up.” Cora walked to the side of them, gesturing to the washroom. Drake peeked his head inside, looking up and down. There was a freestanding tub with a gray curtain pulled around it, a small toilet, and one sink attached to the wall. On top of the toilet was a towel, a new dress, and the feminine products she needed.
Cora to the rescue.
Drake grabbed a basket full of toiletries under the sink. “We can’t have anything in there that the princess can use as a weapon,” he said as he handed the basket to Cora.
Cora turned to her with big eyes, prompting Myka to respond with a fake smile. “I’m very resourceful. I can kill a man with a single bar of soap.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Drake’s lips twitch, giving her a small feeling of gratification—more than it should have.
Drake flipped the curtain back, looking inside the tub before he turned around. “All clear.” He stepped toward her and began untying the ropes at her waist and hands. Myka could smell his musky scent, and her eyes lined up perfectly with his broad shoulders. His muscles lifted and shifted under his shirt as he pulled at the knot. She had to look away, forcing her eyes to his chin.
Yes, much better. Chins aren’t attractive.
But then her eyes drifted from his chin to his strong, smooth jaw and tanned skin. She closed her eyes dramatically, trying to convince herself that staring at Drake was repulsive.
“Could you be any slower?” she blurted out, closing her eyes. It was like Drake purposely took his time untying the knot so that he could torture her with his manliness.
“I didn’t know we were in a time crunch.” Myka could hear the humor in his voice.
“We’re not. I’m just eager to shower.”
The rope slackened, and he stepped back. “You have twenty minutes. I’ll be waiting right out here.” He pointed to the small living space.
She gave him a tight smile and then slammed the door in his face.
The first few minutes of her shower, Myka stood like a statue, staring blankly at the curtain surrounding the tub. She thought she might be crying, but it was hard to tell with the water splashing against her face.
She felt numb.
She couldn’t feel relief that they weren’t riding anymore or that she was still alive. Her numbness didn’t let her pick and choose what she felt. It took away all of the pain, turning it into a dullness that threatened to suffocate her.
She stood there feeling nothing.
Thoughts of her father crept inside of her. Was he still alive?
The anxiety that question caused hit her square in the chest, breaking her resolve. Her shoulders jerked up and down as she tried to stifle her sobs. She cupped her mouth with her hand to keep her cries from being heard. Was there a way to make it all stop hurting? Because if there was, she’d do whatever it took. The pain in her chest throbbed to life like all her fears, insecurities, and despair had multiplied. She sat down, holding her knees against her chest, as the water pelted her from above. There was no way out of this darkness. It filled her up—a thick fog settling deep within her.
She’d felt this way before. Cried like this before. The day her mother left had felt like this. Myka had spent days and weeks breathing life into little bits of hope that her mother would return, but she never did.
Myka took in a deliberate breath. What if this never ended?
A loud knock sounded at the door, jerking her back to life.
“Your twenty minutes is almost up,” Drake said through the wood.
She wiped her hands over her face and stood up, reaching for the soap. She washed her body and hair and quickly stepped out of the shower.
Myka slipped the gray working-class dress over her head. It was a little long, but it was better than putting her dirty clothes back on. She looked around for a brush or comb, but Drake had taken everything out. That was probably a good idea, because if there had been anything that she could have used as a weapon, she would have found it.
