Stealing Cinderella(22)
“Go to sleep,” he commands. “You’re going to need it.”
With that ominous threat, he turns away, his back rigid as he retreats from the room. My blurry eyes dart around the space, trying to determine the next logical step. I should seek out a weapon and prepare myself. But the exhaustion of the day hits me all at once as I sink into the bed, and before I can do anything, my eyes are already drifting shut.
11
Thorsen
“You seem agitated,” Calder observes.
It’s unnerving how easily he can read me sometimes. But agitated isn’t the word I’d use to describe the frantic energy electrifying my veins. I spent half the night pacing the floors of my estate, and in my sleep-addled brain, paranoia takes root. Does he know about my dirty little secret locked up in the guest room? Does he know that I’ve come completely unhinged?
“I’m just tired,” I tell him.
“In that case, you better start mainlining coffee now.”
“Why?”
“Mor has requested a meeting with you,” he says. “And I’ve been sent here as a carrier pigeon to inform you that if you don’t come to her by noon today, she will materialize here instead.”
A groan rumbles from my chest. “I can’t imagine Father letting her out onto the palace grounds, let alone here. Do you know what this is about?”
“I don’t know.” Calder tosses a grape into his mouth. “But she said it was important.”
I open the fridge and pour myself a glass of orange juice right before Lisbet, my housekeeper, comes scurrying over.
“Can I get you anything else, Your Highness?”
“No.”
She shrinks before me and disappears just as fast as she arrived.
“You certainly have a way with women.” Calder snorts.
“She doesn’t need to like me,” I answer bitterly.
He tosses another grape into his mouth and shrugs. “Nobody does.”
Ignoring his jab, I rummage through the fridge until I find the fruit and yogurt that has been set aside for this morning’s breakfast.
“I have some work to do in my office,” I tell him. “Are you going to stay?”
“No.” He stands up and stretches. “I have a fencing match this morning. But I’ll be at the palace this afternoon.”
“I’ll see you there.”
We part ways, and I take the tray of food down the hall to the row of guest suites that have rarely seen use before. Ella’s is the closest in proximity to my master suite. On the off chance she decided to throw a fit last night, I wanted to be able to hear her. But so far, there has been no disturbance whatsoever. When I turn the key in the lock and push open the door, I’m expecting more of the same.
The first thing that registers is a lamp swinging at my head, and when I duck backward, Ella stumbles forward, losing her balance and nearly toppling over completely. But it doesn’t stop her from swinging again. Maybe I’m off my game, or maybe I just want to see what she’s capable of when she smashes the lamp into my head. It bounces off my skull, the tray in my hands clattering to the ground, food spilling everywhere.
I’m stunned, but more than anything, I’m fucking pissed, and she recognizes that as she tries to bolt. But little Cinderella is no match for me. She hits like a girl, and she runs like one too. She may as well be trying to outrun a cheetah.
My fingers wrap around her arm, dragging her back to me just as she lets out a bloodcurdling scream for help. I curl my palm around her mouth, only for her to bite me as she kicks me in the shin.
I’m a raging fucking bull, nostrils full of steam when I tug her back into the bedroom and slam the door behind me. She continues to fight in my grasp, using every possible weapon at her disposal, including her nails as she rakes them down my arms.
It takes me a full minute to get her under control, pinning her hands behind her back and turning her in my arms to face me as I force her back onto the bed. She’s breathing hard, eyes wild as she stares up at the beast she’s just awoken.
“You have a fire in you, don’t you?” I straddle her body and pinch her face in my fingers. “But you should know you’re only making my cock harder when you fight.”
She stills, her baby blue eyes drifting down my body. When they land on the weapon stabbing painfully against the zipper of my trousers, she sucks in a breath.
“That’s right.” I lean into her and hover above her lips. “I’m going to fuck you.”
Her chest heaves as she shakes her head, a pitiful denial. But that fear, that hatred emanating from her is like an aphrodisiac stronger than any other. I don’t know what it is about this woman who triggers this depravity in me, but she should know better than to provoke it.
Her claw marks burn into my arms as blood drips from the side of my temple. When it splashes onto her, she wiggles in my grasp, and for a split second, regret lingers in her eyes.
“Too soft.” I drag my bloody fingers over her lips. “Don’t you know you should never feel sorry for me?”
She whimpers as I lower my mouth to hers, just enough to inhale her breath. And then I cave, drawing her lip between my teeth and tugging until I taste her blood mingled with mine.
She hisses, and I lick her wound, metallic and biting against my tongue. My cock rests against her hip, deadly, and wanting. I want to squeeze that rigid flesh into her body, claiming every orifice. I want to fuck her and fill her with come until she understands exactly who owns her. But right now, I don’t have time for all the things I want to do to her. And we still have a deal to make.