Page 15 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

Abstinence or blue pills. Fuck.

“Good.” Jean opens the top drawer of his desk and retrieves a velvet bag. He unfastens the threads and flashes me a signet ring. “This is the princess’ personal mark. There’s a slight darker tint to the rose, you see? It will warn other children of the night of who you are. If any of them were to bite you anyway, they’d be in big trouble.”

I barely glance at the mark. “Just call them vampires, please.”

Jean clicks his tongue. “Fine. No other vampire shall taste you. I’ll tattoo the mark at the base of your right ear. Moisturize it a few times a day, and avoid unnecessary exposure to sunlight.” He powers on a wireless tattoo pen.

I swallow hard. “I’ve got other tattoos. I know how it works.”

“Sit down then, so I can get to work.”

I finally sit, drained by this insane conversation. The pen buzzes to life, and the needle stings more as it pierces my skin than it usually does. I don’t want this tattoo. This brand—because that’s what it is—makes me sick. We’re nothing but livestock to them.

“The only vampire who is allowed to touch you is the princess. You belong to her. Never forget that,” Jean breathes, his fingers soft on the shell of my ear.

“I won’t,” I ground out.

The needle pierces my skin again and again. I grip the armrests not to punch Jean in the face.

“If she asks for anything, you shall provide it,” he adds.

“Yes.”

The old man pauses. “Anything.”

I grit my teeth, his heavy-handed allusion to sex perfectly clear. I can’t believe my life has come to this. I’m a common whore.

He sets the tattoo pen aside and rubs his chin, apparently lost in thought. “There will come a time in the next year when the princess will enter a fertile period. You’ll have to know the signs so you can take the right precautions…”

Great. A crash course in the female vampire menstrual cycle is what I need right now.

After he’s done briefing me about the female anatomy and the merits of contraception, I join Quentin in the kitchens. The big room allows for many cooks to work together, with sinks, stoves, stainless steel appliances, and a big island in the middle.

The man offers me a beer, and I snap off the cork and chug down half of it in one gulp.

Quentin raises his own bottle in cheer. “Don’t look so glum, mate. We’re leaving for France soon, that’ll be fun.”

“You’re looking forward to this?”

“Absolutely. Victor Delacroix is the mighty king of Europe. To demons, he’s the only force of law. Vampires have helmed the supernatural world for two millennia, and the Delacroix night court is the most powerful kingdom of all. We’re going to see stuff most people never even hear about.”

The admiration in his voice turns my stomach.

“Delightful.” I blast past the delivery door and sit on the top of the stone staircase outside. The sun hangs low in the sky, falling quickly under the edge of the sea, and my skin tingles because of what it means.

The next vampire bite is coming for me, and fast.

Quentin sits beside me. “Are you so blue because of that blonde bombshell? My brother always said you were the luckiest son of a bitch alive. What was her name? Zara?”

I grunt in response, the beer heavy in my hand.

“Your old flame doesn’t hold a candle to the princess, in my humble opinion. You lucky bastard. You might actually get to tap that.” He tilts his back to the sky with his eyes half-mast. “I’ve seen her on the beach in her bikini.” He smacks his lips together.

A cynical smile escapes me. “Are you having lots of sex with your vampire?” I’m getting serious bro vibes from this guy, and bros don’t like to think about anal sex unless a woman is the one on the receiving end.

Quentin spits out a mouthful of beer. “God, no. Lucas is fresh and green as a baby fern.”

We drink in silence for a moment, looking at the sunset.

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