Page 49 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, the experiences of the last hour distracting as hell.

A tiny fist collides with my back. “Put me down!”

“You complained about the pushing. This is the alternative.”

I can’t believe Victor wants to sell her to a cruel drunk. King Felipe Pereira should help Victor in the war regardless, not blackmail him into treating his sister as a commodity. The old king has a sullied reputation, and old drunks with a perverted sense of self-importance shouldn’t get to marry a woman like Arielle Delacroix.

Maybe it’s not just about the war. She’s young, fierce, and opinionated. Sexual, my beast adds with an approving growl. I know a bunch of men who are bothered by such qualities in a woman, especially since she ranks higher than them. Maybe Peter Chastain suggested getting rid of the princess to assert his control over Victor. Maybe her resemblance to her mother stirred up Victor’s insecurities. Who the fuck knows at this point? The only thing for certain is that this second attack was an inside job. No one gets past the guards with a crossbow without someone looking the other way.

She raps her tiny fists on the small of my back, and I want to bite her head off for being so difficult, but my body has other ideas. One idea, to be exact.

“Will you stop?” In my efforts to calm her down, I end up with my hand flat on her nearly-bare ass. The hem of her dress rode up to her hips when I picked her up, and the lace of her underwear prickles the inside of my palm. The heady, sweet tang of arousal invades my senses, the shudder that runs through her as I grip the round flesh about enough to make me forget about the attack.

Oh Nyx, help me be strong.

She’s not reacting to me, merely the sinful dance she was engaged in before the attack. But her scent… pomegranates and wine. All I can think about is how wet her underwear must be. I should rip it from her smooth skin and test the feel of her. First with my fingers, then my cock.

Gods, I’d love to make this snob of a princess scream.

Short pants rock her throat. “Is molesting your charge standard procedure?”

“Only when they’re being difficult, Lucky,” I say, but my steady voice doesn’t fool me. I don’t get a hard on for every royal I carry, let alone fantasize about wrapping their thighs around my waist and defiling them hard against a wall. The sharp pain in my shoulder only heightens my desire for her, adrenaline and a taste for violence lowering my inhibitions.

I’m not a trained assassin for nothing. My beast relishes the chase of prey and the art of the kill, and right now, it only has one target in mind.

I reposition my hand to her thigh only to realize that’s not much better. I really shouldn’t have picked her up at all.

Once the door to her chambers closes behind us, I lower her down to her feet. Her pliable body molds itself to mine on its way down, and I feel every inch of her curves.

“You shouldn’t have—” she stops and flattens her palm to my chest.

Her left hip presses on the bulge in my pants, and there’s no way she doesn’t notice how aroused I am. Our chests rise and fall together, our breaths heated and shallow. I wait for her to push me away, but she just stares at her hand like it’s a complicated math problem.

She’s not into you. She’s not into you. She’s not into you.

Clearing my throat, I take a huge step back. “I had to get you to safety fast.”

“Why are you so…hard? Are you secretly hot for me, Mr. Beaumont?” She arches a brow, a grin pulling at her lips like the idea is too funny.

I conjure a casual shrug out of thin air. “We’re vampires. Blood and violence make us horny.”

“Horny…yes,” she repeats, eyes half-mast, probably high on the aftershock of human lust. “That’s all it is then.”

If I kissed her now, I would still taste Fred’s orgasm on her tongue, and she would probably reciprocate, but it wouldn’t mean anything. Everything that’s happened is circumstantial, but a kiss would definitely get me fired. Or beheaded. One of the two.

The princess squares her shoulders, her breaths finally steady. “You can go. I’m safe now.”

Will she report me? Ludovic wouldn’t have batted an eye, but Victor is a wild card. In theory, she could have me demoted to toilet brushing duties just for the way I carried her in here.

“Hired assassins often work in pairs.” I inspect the windows, lower the blinds, and lock the door leading to the annex.

“Then maybe you should stay.” She arches a brow, and I’m not sure I’m in my right mind, but the way she breathes the words goes straight to my already stiff cock.

“You’re safe,” I repeat.

“Yes. Safe.”

We’re going in circles, probably both trying to remember that duty forbids us to act on our animal instincts. She hates me, and I’m not high-born enough for her, I know, but sometimes, those things don’t matter. Sometimes, the only thing that matters is a soft pair of lips. The curve of a woman’s waist. A pulsing cock…

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