Chapter 11 Prince
PRINCE
Adelicate flower.
My choice of poison.
My foster sister.
Royce.
And now she gets to see me for all that I am.
For all that I am capable of.
The sound of hurried feet echo above me, followed by the swift closing of the door. Rolling my eyes, her efforts to evade me are useless.
I will always find her.
Creep into her thoughts, dreams, and subconscious effortlessly.
To make her remember everything her brain has attempted to block and protect her from. For Royce, my sweet Royce, to be reminded that I fucking own her.
Since the starting days of our time together, my body needed to possess hers.
Her sadness brought me joy. And when I tormented her, it got me hard.
Still does.
So even as a child, I would destroy all the things she loved, including the tree swing where she first sat and watched me walk up the path and into this forsaken place.
Royce cried for days after I cut the branch down. Agatha locked her inside of her room for days, but only because the crying annoyed her and Royce wouldn’t stop.
She was given no food or water the entire time. And aiding her never crossed my mind.
My punishment was being kept from her and being unable to see her absolutely destroyed in person, only to hear it through her door and the thin walls.
Grumbles of distress bring me back to the present. Glancing at the corner of the living room, black leather shoes dangle, their feet off the ground. My own are resting nicely on top of a coffee table as I lean back in a plush reading chair.
Raking my fingers through my disheveled white hair, my mind searches the house for Royce, who seems to be prolonging our night of broken bodies. Still in her room, sitting before her vanity with her head resting in her hands. Shoulders shaking. She’s crying.
We don’t have time for this.
I haul the stool back, causing her bare legs to fly out, her head rising and her fingers gripping the seat.
You are wasting my time.
Frantically, she looks around the space, attempting to find the source of my voice.
You will not find me in your room because I occupy your mind, my sweet Royce.
Now come to me.
Standing tall, her body is naked, pussy bare.
Stepping forward, I watch as she steps delicately forward. Her body is exquisite.
I will devour her, mark her, and control her.
Swinging the door open for her, the force blows her hair back. Royce’s face is neutral, no expression, and although the tears have stopped, I feel her anxiety vibrating through each bone and breath.
Bringing her down the hall and to the stairs, her footsteps are loud.
Her dramatics fall on deaf ears as I don’t react, yet.
As she reaches the bottom, she takes in our guest of honor hanging freely in the corner of the living room. Anxiety is now turning into full-on panic. I cannot relinquish my control over her yet; she’ll try to run, and I am in no mood to chase.
Waving my arms out wide, I cheerfully welcome Royce. “So glad you can finally join us. Agatha, why don’t you tell us a fun ghost story?” Loud, wicked laughter follows. I am whole, and those who tried to suppress me shall pay.
“You ungrateful bastard,” she hisses back.
I tsk her. “Tell us a thrilling tale. Perhaps a tale of why our abilities vanished the moment you entered our lives and took us in?”
I allow Agatha to ponder this as a knife floats in the air, teasing her neck.
Forcefully, I pull Royce to stand before me.
Her petite, naked body is on display for me. My eyes take her in from head to toe, and my cock twitches against my trousers. Leaning forward, my hand cups her pussy, and it’s dry.
“You fucking bitch,” I snide.
SIT!
Her body jolts forward, then folds onto my lap stiffly.
My hand returns to her pussy, the tips of my fingers circle her clit, and just as I am about to bring my mouth to her hard pink nipples, it catches my attention.
A mark I have never seen before on her inner thigh.
She has plenty of scars. But this one is unique and not one of her own making.
Teeth.
Rage fills my veins. My fingernails embed themselves into her sensitive nub.
His fucking teeth.
Agatha chokes, gagging from the force I’m applying around her neck. The sharp tip of the knife twitches as I debate using it next.
“He’s dead,” I state plainly, my face stoic.
My hold over Royce vanishes, and she rapidly rises from my lap and attempts to scurry away from me.
I fucking think not.
The pads of her feet are harsh against the floor; her leg rises to take the first step up the staircase, but I stop her, throwing her helpless body back and slamming it against the front door.
Her head thuds loudly as the rest of her body follows, connecting against the hardwood, as the wind is knocked out of her.
Her lungs wheeze as she collapses to the floor, her body lying limp on the dark decorative rug.
Beneath her brave exterior, Royce is nothing more than a fucking piece of meat, which I will ravish night after fucking night. There is no need to break her, because she is already so very broken. And I will remind her each day and every night just how worthless she is.
I rise while Agatha still gasps for air, so I allow some to enter her lungs as I stand above Royce.
My words come out like venom as I taunt her unconscious body, “Because you will never forget you were the one who killed your moms. Your moms who can’t even bring themselves to see you in the afterlife.
” I spit on her as the last word leaves my lips.
Stepping back, I spot the small door under the stairs that leads to the small cold room and get an idea. Throwing my head back, I chuckle hysterically.
I am fucking back. I am free.
“Oh, my pet, we are about to have so much fun together.”