Page 32 of Princess Claimed

Chapter

Sixteen

Crusher

“She’s something, isn’t she?” I pass a triple whiskey to Phil, keeping hold of a second one. I requested a full glass of whiskey for Phil, but the barman wouldn’t pour one, so I pretended that one of the triples I ordered was for me.

Phil downs his whiskey in a single gulp, and I hand him the second.

Perhaps I should have been more conservative with our liquor order, but even a human Phil’s size could likely drink two back-to-back triples without getting very drunk. And if anyone guesses what we are, I doubt that the security guards at this fancy ball are armed with wooden stakes.

A waiter followed me back from the bar. He places an ice bucket beside our table, containing a bottle of the only champagne they had—not great—and then sets five glasses on the table.

“Shall I uncork the champagne?” the waiter asks.

“Sure. Thank you. But just pour one glass.” I may as well taste it while Ana enjoys her time on the dance floor with Flame and Blade, and while I enjoy watching her.

The waiter hands me a glass of champagne, and I hand him one of the small stacks of hundreds I have stashed in my tuxedo pockets. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open as if he’s about to question such a large tip, but then he slides it into a pocket on the inside of his ill-fitting, dark jacket.

“Please,” he says. “Find me if you need anything else.”

“I’ll take another glass of whiskey,” Phil says to the waiter. “Whatever this was is okay. And don’t waste a second glass this time. Just fill one to the rim.”

Taking Phil’s empty glass, the waiter heads back toward the bar. This charity party has an open bar—as it should, given how much we had to fork out for the table—but I am aware that every ounce of liquor they serve to us will decrease the amount that the organization will net from the gala. I paid triple the normal price for this table of eight to secure it at the last moment, but I’ll send an additional donation tomorrow—to a group doing something about hearts or strokes or both—to cover the several bottles of Scotch Phil will consume if he stays this tense. His mood is so dark.

I sip my champagne, trying not to harshly judge its vintage. Instead, I focus on watching joy waft off our Ana.

Our Ana. My Ana. Mine.

I shake the words out of my head. It’s strange, and beyond dangerous to think of her in those terms.

Once she’s released from our protection, we’ll get over our unexpected attachments to her. I’m certain we will, but it’s no longer possible to deny that attachments have happened. Except maybe for Phil, whose anger seems to have inflated since we found her again.

Blade and Flame aren’t even trying to cover up how they’re feeling. Their expressions broadcast the perilous bonds they’ve formed. But I’ve never seen either of them so happy, not in the company of someone beyond each other. The three are swaying together in time to the music. Behind her, Flame pulls Ana’s body tightly against his, as Blade cups her face, looking with longing into her eyes.

My entire body heats, and my cock hardens; not that I’m ever soft around her. Seeing Ana, even thinking of Ana, turns me hard. Something I thought I’d learned to control two centuries ago. If the Master could see me now… I shudder, thinking of the ways I’d be punished.

The music turns to a slower song. Both men slide even closer to Ana, and the three gyrate together as if she’s glue holding them together. Not glue, a delicious, sparkling lavender cream, filling the finest French pastry.

“Do something,” Phil growls in my ear.

My focus shifts.

On the dance floor, the three are drawing attention. More attention that is. Ana captured the awareness of the crowd the moment she entered this grand space, her radiant beauty shining even more brightly than usual, wearing that dress, and with her long hair all twisted and pinned up using diamond studs.

But it’s more than just her beauty drawing the crowd’s attention. It’s my brothers too. The room fills with whispers, speculating about the gorgeous young woman who arrived with four attentive, unusually large men. People are forming theories about which one of us is her lover. Some are making lewd comments. Human culture is only beginning to accept the concept of polyamory, especially when the central figure is female, and while Ana isn’t part of our family, not like that, we can’t chance having anyone suspect we’re anything but human.

I haven’t heard the word vampire whispered, not yet, but if I do, we’ll have to flee, and that would spoil Ana’s evening.

“Break this up, or I will,” Phil growls. His energy is beyond hostile tonight. Beyond tense. His fuse is so short that one spark will cause an explosion.

The waiter returns with a full glass of whiskey, and Phil grabs it off his tray with a grunt.

I pass the waiter another few hundreds, and then stride onto the dance floor. The sea of dancing couples parts to create a path for me, and I don’t need to dodge anyone. Clearly, I’ve drawn attention too.

Flame’s eyes are closed as he moves behind Ana, one of his hands on her waist, the other low on Blade’s back on the other side of her.

I place my hand on his shoulder.

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