Page 13 of Princess Claimed

“I will!” he shouts. “All in good time!” Then his body twists, as if he’s being tortured as badly as he’s been torturing me.

“Why rush?” he asks someone who’s not me. “You demanded terror, pain, violence. The slower I proceed, the more terror she will feel, and the more successful you’ll be when I plant my seed inside her.”

His body twists again, and his face distorts. “Your seed. I know. I know. Your seed, not mine.” He pauses. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

Screaming in agony, Rasputin twists again. “I know she’s no longer the maiden I promised, but she’s better now. See? Her beautiful, youthful body is far more powerful now, making her even better for your needs.”

Rasputin gasps. His skin goes white, then bright red, and it’s clear that a new kind of pain is searing through him.

“I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees. “Of course. Of course. I cannot possibly know what is best for you. Of course you have your own powers and have no need for hers.”

His body slumps, and he pants. Hands on his thighs, he struggles to recover from whatever just happened. Then he stands, ogling me with renewed cruelty in his eyes.

I cringe, wishing I could collapse into myself and disappear. I have never, ever, felt this kind of fear.

“The demon, our master, has agreed.” Rasputin drags the silver cage through the folds of my sex, singeing my skin, and then jabs his finger inside me, scraping his long nail over my soft insides. “The longer I take with you, the better the potential result.” His finger circles inside me and his eyes fill with a crazed mix of lust and evil, like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before.

Rasputin was always mad. Always evil. I understand that now. And I don’t know how he managed to live for so long, but whatever granted him longevity turned him even madder.

He called the voice inside his head a demon, his master. And this voice is telling him what to do, driving him to fuck me, and also to hurt me. To impregnate me. Good luck with that last part. Pregnancies are rare amongst vampires.

But I can face whatever Rasputin’s multiple personalities have planned. I am strong. I can withstand and then recover from whatever he does to me. I can endure any pain, and short of a stake through my heart, my body will heal.

Closing my eyes, I try to think of something else, anything else. I try to imagine a way that the brothers might find me here—wherever here is. But that hope is futile.

The brothers think I’m with Timur. They don’t even know I’m in danger.

Chapter

Eight

Phil

We race through the city streets, which are growing less quiet as dawn approaches. Once I knew the area she was in, I raced out, not caring whether the others were following. But they did follow and are with me now.

That DEFTA asshole is tagging along too. So are his security minions, but they’re in cars behind us.

Rage coils inside me, and I try to slam it into the ground as I run, but no matter how hard my feet stomp, I can’t defuse the energy. Whoever is hurting Ana. Whoever it is impersonating her mate. Whoever it is will soon have a stake through his heart.

But only after I detonate a few strategically placed bombs in his body.

“Stop,” Flame says from a block behind me. “Phil! I said stop! I need to concentrate.”

I head back toward the others. Flame’s eyes are closed, and his head twitches to the side. “This way.”

Flame and Ana formed a strong connection when we left them alone those first few days, and while I resent him for letting that happen, if their connection is helping him tune into her now, then great. I follow him until he stops in front of a rundown, two story house. The only house on this block that’s not attached to a row of others. Half its shingles are missing, and the wood trim hasn’t been painted in a half century, at least.

“This is the place.” Flame storms toward the door.

“Wait.” Rushing up, Crusher grabs him. “We need a plan.”

Fear fills Flames eyes. “There’s no time!”

“Fucking right!” My mind is clouded by rage and blood lust.

Plowing past my brothers, l leap to the top of the crumbling concrete steps and kick down the door. As splinters fly, I grab a piece that will form a decent stake. We had no time to properly arm ourselves.

Ana cries out.

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