Page 87 of Stolen Princess

She leans in and kisses me. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug even as that warms my heart. No one’s ever cared about my past, let alone asked about it. “No need to be. It’s where I learned my trade. And how to watch people.”

“In school?”

“Kids there had a lot of issues and were always trying to hide their feelings. I was able to see patterns and tells, and it became sort of a thing for me. Something I was good at. I could read people, even the things they didn’t want me to, and I knew how to work them in my favor. Plus, they were always nicking stuff.”

“What was the first thing you ever stole?”

I work to hide my smirk. “The priest’s rosary.”

Her jaw drops. “You did not!”

“I did. I placed it in the drawer of the asshole who got his rocks off on bullying. He got thirty lashes for it. He was also the first person I killed.”

She covers her face with her hands. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me that.”

I run my hands up and down her back. “He had it coming, princess. Believe me, he did. He was a shit as a kid and a truly fucked-up human as a teenager. The world is better without him.”

She holds up a hand. “I believe you. I don’t want to know more.”

I kiss her neck and breathe in her scent. “What do you like to paint?”

“I started painting myself out in the world, and my mother would throw fits over it and threaten not to buy me more paints. That and books were about all I had, so I started painting myself at the cottage with the chickens or Gerald the feral cat. I’d sometimes paint vampires or fairies since they were in the books she’d get me.”

I kiss the sweet skin under her jaw. “What do you remember about before you went to the cottage?”

She tenses, but I have to know. It’s important.

Her hands fall to her lap, and she looks down at them. I hold her hips as I shift my body and cross my legs, drawing her up closer. The cold water is keeping my dick in check, but for once, it’s not the only thing. I’ve been thinking about this since last night.

“I remember the woman. Or at least I think I do. She had blonde hair and kind eyes. But she was always scared. Always anxious, and we moved around a lot. I didn’t have friends then either. She never let me talk to anyone. I remember asking about school once, and she told me I couldn’t go. She spoke to me in French. I didn’t learn Italian until my mother took me and taught me.”

Interesting. “Who do you think she was?”

She shakes her head. “I have no idea. I don’t remember her name. I called her ‘Mother’ in French. I was excited for the festival. I ate sweets and played some of the games. But we were there looking for another little girl, and I was most excited about that. The girl was quite a bit older than I was, but she was my sister, or so the woman claimed. The thought of having a sister was the best. She said after the lanterns, she’d get her. Only I never met her because I was taken before that happened.”

Hmm. Was that woman kidnapping another child? Princess Brea was born sick and is younger than Desta, so I doubt it’s her. And also the fact that she was so excited to meet a potential sibling. This girl has that. But I don’t want to keep going with this. I want tonight to be different.

“You look pretty in purple,” I tell her, running my finger along the strap of her bikini at her neckline. “And so incredibly sexy in this bikini.”

A smile that I have to kiss lights up her face. “I want to get a new dress for tomorrow.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your last one. You looked beautiful in that too. We’ll stop on the way.”

She shifts. “Do you think it’s stupid to go?”

I shake my head and hold her cheek. “Nah. We’ll be careful. I promise. I was so jealous last night. You were gorgeous, and everyone noticed it. You were supposed to be with me. The girl on my arm, who only talked to me.”

She tilts her head, surprised by my confession. I’m telling her everything. Baring my soul. Soon I won’t have that ability, and I don’t want regrets with her. I’m also waiting for the moment when all of this with me is too much, and she runs screaming from me.

I don’t know when it exactly happened, but I don’t just want her, I need her. She’s tearing me up and shredding everything I had so perfectly set in place. I have the necklace and should be a thousand kilometers away from here.

But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Fucking nowhere.

Part of me knew without even having to sample the goods that one taste of her would change everything. It’d be one of those defining moments we get every decade or so. Like killing the bully in my orphanage who got his rocks off on hurting the small ones or killing my father in a gleeful moment of triumph after hours of torture.

I knew it would be as gruesome and as spectacular as both those moments.