Page 2 of Princess Claimed

Each time they tried to kill me, the demon saved me, granting me more power each time, including the power to mark another human as mine. Mark her so I could feel her even when we were apart.

Thrilled, I did not comprehend that I was actually marking her for the demon. When I scraped my long fingernail against the soft flesh inside her, Ana cried out in pain, but ever since that sacred ritual, I can sense her. Unless she is hidden far underground, I can always feel Ana inside my bones.

I felt it when she died in 1918. But the demon insisted she lived, continuing my torment and refusing to release me from our evil bargain, even as a grieved.

But the demon was right. She didn’t die. Instead, she was turned into the blood-sucking creature she is now, then she was held underground for a century, making it impossible for me to find her.

Anger grows inside me, and I fight to bring my heart rate under control. I must stay calm, or I’ll risk losing the form I’m assuming. I cannot show my true shape until I am alone with her. Until I am inside her. Until she is mine.

My Anastasia is in the building! My body trembles.

Her glorious spirit consumes me as she draws closer and closer.

As expected, that large vampire, Crusher, is with her, but there are others too. All four of the fiends who betrayed me are here.

My body stiffens. I cannot let them see the truth. They are too large, too powerful. If they challenge me, I will not win. Not even with help from the demon.

They must believe that I am her mate. So must she.

They must all believe that I am the vampire who dared defile what was mine, stealing her virginity not two months past. The vampire who is now most-deservedly dead.

Chapter

Two

Ana

Timur is dressed in clothes identical to those he wore the night I thought he died. But his dark gray sweater can’t be the same one. There’s no evidence of the stake’s damage. Then again, Maria and Pierre were able to mend the bullet hole in my gown.

Somehow, Timur cheated death, giving us something else in common, I suppose. Perhaps over time, that shared experience will help make us closer?

Even though I hurt him, Timur swore he would always protect and serve me, and for that I am grateful. He is kind, and over the many years we shared our blood, we became friends.

I draw a deep breath, trying to fill myself with happy memories of how things once were between us. Timur has always been handsome, but it’s still strange to see him in this modern, western garb. I much prefer my long-time blood partner wearing silk and linen robes like he did at the palace. Back then, our friendship was so easy, so comfortable. Back then, we understood what we meant to each other.

So I thought. But when Timur confessed that he loved me, after nearly a hundred and thirty years on this earth, I had sex for the very first time.

Guilt invades my attempt at conjuring happiness. Our friendship was easy for me back then, less so for Timur. I hurt him deeply, and right now my own heart feels smashed, destroyed, stabbed, incinerated. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing Crusher, Phil, Blade, or Flame ever again. But it’s time to return to reality.

Seeing Timur now, it’s clear that my feelings for him haven’t changed—if anything, these past weeks clarified that I will never be in love with my old blood partner.

My time with the brothers unveiled passions like I’ve never known, and not just in the physical sense. Learning about their lives and discovering their deep emotional wounds profoundly touched my heart, and I’ll be forever grateful to have known these four men, even for such a short time.

Time that already seems unreal, like a fantasy.

I knew it couldn’t last, and yet my heart, my entire body is swamped with grief. Grief for the loss of my passion-filled experiences, but also grief for the fantasy that I might have a chance at love. That fantasy will never come true.

My sexual awakening was…spectacular, but it momentarily distracted me from my duties and the life I had planned. Timur fits into my future, the brothers do not.

“My dearest Ana.” Timur pulls me out of my thoughts, and I nod in his direction.

“Timur.” I clear my throat. “I was so happy to hear you’d survived.” I fear my words don’t sound sincere. I am thrilled he’s alive, but my mind is buzzing, and grief and guilt are clouding my tone.

Timur says something else, but I can’t make it out through my fog, so I smile and nod, hoping to convey some happiness. Because I am happy. I am.

Phil blurts something, and I turn toward him.

Eying me quizzically, Phil flicks his eyes toward Timur and then back to me. He’s asking if everything’s okay. He wants to know if I need protection from Timur. At this moment, it’s like I can read Phil’s mind—certainly better than I can read Timur’s—and I’m touched that Phil cares.

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