13. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
The castle halls were pitch black. Not even a flicker of light was left to dance along the decorative high walls.
By the time she neared her sleeping quarters, Esemeray halted at the sight of a guard, curled up on the floor.
Is he sleeping? Or dead? She inched around his boot, observing the rise and fall of his chest. She let out a sigh of relief. Good.
She slinked back into her room, undetected.
Still, no sign of Aria. Esemeray glanced at the clock on her fireplace mantel.
It was almost nine. She should have been back by now.
She reached into her pocket, pressed a kiss to Mr. Pebbles head, and set him on the floor.
He scurried beneath her bed, darting into the tiny hole in her wall.
Esemeray hid the necklace between books on her shelf.
The one place she knew her mother wouldn’t look.
She didn’t want to know what she’d do if she noticed she wasn’t wearing it.
Scanning her bookshelf, her fingers ran over the spines, stopping over one particular.
Despite the recent events, a soft smile took over her face.
Dungeons of Secrets and Lies.
I wonder if Riggs Whitlock is thinking of me…
Sighing, she grabbed the leather-bound book and tossed it on her pillow.
When a knock sounded on her door, her heart lodged in her throat. Esemeray hid the book beneath her covers in case her mother was on the other side.
“Come in,” Esemeray called, smoothing the sides of her dress as she sat on the corner of her bed, crossing one leg over the other. Act casual.
The door opened.
It was Peter.
Her throat closed up as he strode in, the hair on her neck rising from the thin-lipped curve of his mouth.
She swallowed hard, wondering why the hell he was here, and alone.
Normally, he was accompanied everywhere, especially at this hour.
Ever since he was a boy, she could remember his personal guard always two steps away.
She peeked through the crack of the door, eyeing Rutherford’s guard sprawled across the floor. And then it dawned on her…maybe the guard wasn’t taking a catnap.
Peter’s eyes burned with something like sorrow. “Esemeray, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I was wrong to say…and do those things to you.” He slid his hands in his jacket—the pattern so out of sorts it looked like it was colored by a five-year-old. “Forgive me?”
Her body stiffened. She didn’t care about his fake apologies; she knew what he said and did was true. She crossed her arms, doing her best to hide her breasts from him. Staying silent, she glared at him, hoping he would take the hint to get out of her room.
She carefully watched his every step.
Peter approached with an arched brow. “Look, I leave tomorrow. I want to make things up to you before I do.”
She gulped, her voice trembling, “How could you possibly?—”
His index finger pressed on her mouth. “Shh.” A soft chuckle slipped, his lips twisting into a smirk. “I want to worship your body, make you feel things you never felt before.” He licked his lips, his eyes darkening.
She’d never let him touch her, even if a dagger was held at her throat.
His finger pressed against her was enough to make her want to bite it off.
Swallowing the vomit creeping up, she threw Peter a weary smile.
“You don’t need to do that.” She had to come up with something, anything, to get him out of here.
Esemeray stood, faking a yawn and clasping her hands before her. “It’s time for bed?—”
Peter slammed his mouth on hers, forcing his body flush against her curves as her back hit her mattress.
Esemeray’s heart thundered. Peter wrapped his hands around her wrists, pinning her to the bed.
He licked the column of her throat, barking a sinister laugh.
“You will be my wife, and I will fuck you as I please.” With one hand, he held her firm, sliding his other down, and unbuckling his belt.
Stomach twisting, Esemeray grunted, struggling to break free. “Get off of me.” Her voice strained. “The king and queen will not be happy, so I suggest—” Esemeray rolled her hips. “You release me this instant.”
She could shift.
But how? It had been far too long since she last changed form. And even if she remembered, she couldn’t risk Peter knowing the truth. He’d have her killed.
She’d endure this.
“They won’t find out.” Peter grinned, ripping his belt free. “Because you won’t tell them a thing.”
“I will tell them everything,” she rasped, tears lining in her eyes. She knew there was no way to escape, no way to break free. She was far too weak. Her lungs collapsed, and she was certain she was no longer breathing. I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved.
Someone special.
Not him.
Not Peter.
“They won’t believe a single word out of your mouth.
So be a good girl, and do what I say.” He thrusted his hips, and everything inside of her recoiled as something hard pressed against her thigh.
She knew exactly what it was. With every ounce of strength she had, she swung her leg, aiming between his legs.
“Bitch!” Peter yelped, eyes wide as he stumbled off the bed, dropping to the floor and cursing under his breath. Pulse racing, Esemeray twisted, grabbing the book beneath her covers. It wasn’t long before his sweaty palm closed around her ankle and yanked her to the floor.
They tussled across the carpet, his legs pinning her down once more.
His mistake.
Esemeray smacked the book across his face, the sound echoing throughout the space. Breathing heavy, Esemeray kicked her feet beneath him and stood, pointing a scolding, slender finger. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
Peter rose to his feet. Towering over her, he rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re going to regret that, sweetie.”
Quivering, her eyes roamed to the sleeping guard, and then to Peter. “Get out of my room,” she demanded. Her words carried more conviction than she felt.
“I don’t think so.” He took one step closer.
“Get. The. Hell. Out.” Esemeray gripped the spine of the book, ready to strike. “Come any closer, and I will hit you again.”
Peter spat, his eyes blazing with ire. “You and your pathetic books. One would think with all your reading, you’d be smart to obey.”
She flinched.
Slowly, he slid his hand down past his waist, gripping his length, and stroked himself over the fabric. “You know…” he licked his lips, “I like you all flustered and feisty…it’s doing something to me.” He pointed to his jaw. “Come on, hit me again.”
“No.” Esemeray threw the book at his chest, the leather bound text bouncing to the floor. “Get out.”
A slow, malicious smile spread across Peter’s face.
“You think that’s going to stop me?” He pulled his pants down, his length springing free.
“You think that’s going to prevent me from fucking you.
” Esemeray’s eyes rounded. Peter sat on the edge of her bed, pumping himself in a steady motion.
“Come here, and sit on it, or better yet, put that filthy mouth to work and suck it.”
Esemeray’s jaw slackened. She couldn’t help but to stare.
Never once had she seen a penis. Never once had she thought a penis looked like that. If she was certain about not marrying him before, she was definitely not marrying him now.
Do they all look like that? Thin, short and curved?
She pushed down her rising bile. “You are disgusting!” She scoffed, darting for the door, her face colliding with metal. Slowly, her gaze traveled toward the guard who was now blocking her path. Those emerald eyes pinned her, and relief spread throughout her chest.
“Captain Rutherford,” Esemeray breathed, pointing toward Peter, who was now scrambling to pull his pants up, his eyes lacing with shock. “Get him out of my room,” Esemeray heaved. “Now!”
Captain Rutherford didn’t waste a second before he charged toward Peter, gripping him by the ear. “You haven’t learned, have you, boy?” Captain Rutherford growled, his eyes flashing gold.
Esemeray gasped. Once a shade of emerald, now gold? She had to be seeing things…a reaction to her traumatic day.
“Release me.” Peter paled. “My father will have you hanged for this!” His snarly voice fading as they disappeared out of the room, leaving Esemeray alone, but not for long, not as Aria ran in, breathing heavily.
“Esemeray!” Aria embraced her. “Are you hurt?”
How long has she been standing outside my door?
Esemeray shook her head, the pressure building behind her eyes. She blinked, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I will not marry him,” she said with a sob, throwing herself on Aria’s chest. A strong smell of alcohol lingered.
Was Aria drinking?
She’d ask later.
“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Aria rubbed her shoulders. “Nothing a nice warm bath can’t fix.” Aria brushed down her back in slow, comforting strokes. “I am so sorry…if I would have been here…” Her voice slurred.
“It is not your fault,” Esemeray said, holding down her tears.
“Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Esemeray nodded, allowing Aria to guide her into the bathing chamber. Heat slammed into her chest at the remembrance. She’ll notice the necklace. Esemeray planted her feet, forcing a smile. “I already bathed.”
She couldn’t know.
Aria frowned, her gaze roaming Esemeray’s arms. “Are you sure he didn’t touch you?” Her mouth parted, as she reached for Esemeray’s wrist. “My gods. He left a bruise.” Aria seethed. “That… I’ll hold my tongue on what I think of Prince Peter.”
Esemeray sniffled. “Speak freely, please.”
“That little dick twat.”
Aria and Esemeray looked at each other, and despite her heavy heart, she laughed.
A knock sounded. Esemeray winced, clinging to Aria’s arm.
“It’s okay, I will see who it is,” Aria reassured, stumbling to the door. Her back straightened, a small, gentle smile spreading across her face. “Tristen…”
Tristen? Esemeray’s face twisted in confusion. Who’s Tristen?
Carefully, Esemeray peeked at who stood at the door. She gulped. Captain Rutherford? Never once had she heard his first name.