Page 112 of Stolen Princess

DESTA

Ferrin’s left arm is in a sling, and he looks as beat up as I do, but he’s dead. He’s fucking dead. I saw his body in the water. He was shot. His shirt was covered in blood. He can’t be here.

But he is. Oh my god.

I can tell he’s frustrated that I caught him lurking. His lips twist into a scowl that drags one to mine. Here I’ve been mourning him, and he didn’t want me to see him.

He takes a hesitant step toward me, and my insides lurch. I shake my head, annoyed and hurt, and he chuckles. He takes another step. How is he here? How is this happening? No one said anything to me about him. Did he really not want me to know he was still alive?

“You need to do better than that. I’m so insanely furious with you, I need more words to describe just how much.”

He nods. His eyes are all over me, every inch, uncertainty warring in his features. My breath stutters as the world shifts, but he keeps coming closer. Then he crooks a finger at me. I flip him off in return.

He laughs and does it again. “Come on, princess. Meet me halfway.”

I take a step, then another. He does the same, and fuck this. I’m not as good at holding my emotions back as he is. I quicken my steps until I get to a full run.

“Are you real? Are you here?” I cry out, but he doesn’t have time to answer me. I throw myself into his arms, jumping up and not thinking all that much about his sling because I need to feel him until he makes a pained noise and tenses.

Shit!

I scoot out of his arms but keep myself wrapped around him. He holds me close so my face can bury in his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” he throws back at me.

“This can’t be happening. How are you real?” I ask again.

His lips and nose meet the crook of my neck, and he takes a deep inhale. I’m positive I don’t smell good, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m real.”

“But… you were dead.”

“I was close. I was damn close. He had you, and I knew there was no way I could get you from him. I played dead. It was the only way I could alert anyone that you were in danger.”

I sob, clinging tighter to him. “I thought you were dead. I was so mad at you, and then I was mad at you all over again for dying.”

“I’m sorry. I know you hate me.”

“I did hate you, then I thought you were dead, and I realized I never hated you. Not for a minute. Not even for a second. I was fucking irate and definitely hurt. But why didn’t you want me to know you were alive? No one told me anything.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me. I’m only here to see you for myself. Then I was leaving.”

Except he’s hugging me like he never wants to let me go, our bodies melded together with no space between them. Still, I have to protect myself. There are only so many times I can put myself through this.

Slowly, I withdraw from his embrace. “What does that mean?”

The bastard shifts his weight and skirts my eyes. “I needed to see you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t not see you. I had to know you were okay. I asked the king and prince for ten minutes in the palace, and they agreed. You weren’t supposed to see me.”

“Why?” I close my eyes and steel myself for his answer.

“You know why.”

I shove him back. “Fuck you, Ferrin. Maybe I do hate you after all. You were only in it for the necklace and the money?”

He grabs my waist with his good hand and holds me still. “I stopped being in this for the money and the necklace a long time ago. I wouldn’t have come back to that town for you if I were.”

I shake my head. “I heard you on the phone.”

“What you heard was them telling me about the ransom, not me asking for it or about it. I never did.”