Page 33 of Princess Claimed

Flame’s eyes startle open. “Hey. Crusher,” he says, his voice thick, like a human’s who’s had too much to drink. “What’s up?”

Taking her head off Blade’s chest, Ana smiles at me. Her eyes are brimming with desire and deep contentment. My cock throbs. I came over to break this up, but do I have the heart? She’s so happy.

“May I cut in?” I ask.

Her grin grows wider; my cock throbs harder.

She gently pushes on Blade’s chest, and his eyes open, looking like he’s just woken from a deep, probably erotic dream. Looking into Blade’s eyes, Ana tips her head toward me. “Crusher asked me to dance.”

Licking his lips, Blade nods and slowly backs away from her, as does Flame from behind.

“There’s champagne on the table,” I tell them. “Ana, would you like a drink before we dance?”

She shakes her head, and one of her tiny hands slides up my chest and onto my shoulder. Reflections emanate from the diamonds pinning her hair and the crystals on her dress, and they flash on the atrium’s sandstone walls. Her skin and eyes glow like she’s the center of the entire universe, like she’s got her own gravitational force that’s pulling all the light in the room to radiate around her.

Her body glides closer.

My arms ache to pull her tightly against me, and I drag in a long, broken breath, hoping to gather some sense of composure. I interrupted the threesome to stop a spectacle, but now I’m on the verge of creating another. We’ve got to get out of this crowd.

I take hold of her hand—the one that’s not burning a hole through the fabric over my shoulder. “Do you want to check out the walkways up there?” I glance to the vaulted halls lining the room, situated about thirty feet up from the floor.

“Sure.” She smiles, and her teeth graze her lower lip. “It does look more…private.”

My cock leaps. “Privacy can be dangerous,” I say, as we walk toward the staircase that leads up the two-story wall.

“I’m okay with a little danger,” she says softly. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“Of you?” Lifting her hand, I brush my lips against her knuckles as we slowly ascend the staircase at one end of this large, sandstone atrium. “I’m more afraid of what I might do.”

She inhales a long, contented breath that I swear draws even more of the room’s light to her. It’s a wonder the room below wasn’t cast into darkness the moment she left it. Ana won’t be staying with us for much longer. I want to spend as much time with her as possible, to stay as close to her as possible. To enjoy this time while it lasts.

The stairs lead to a mezzanine of sorts, vaulted corridors with arches that open over the grand hall below. We’re not the only people up here, but it’s much less crowded than the ballroom, and I lead us toward a secluded end of one corridor, near a darkened, blocked off entrance to one of the museum’s exhibit halls.

Slow music drifts up from below, and taking one of her hands, I place my other on her waist as softly as I’m able. Her eyes smile into mine as we start to dance. My hand feels so big, so clumsy, covering too much of her tiny, lithe body, but she doesn’t seem to mind as I lead her in a foxtrot, the dance that best suits the current tune’s tempo. It’s been decades since I’ve danced.

Ana, in contrast, is beyond graceful, and her skirts flow around her as I spin her away and then back toward me.

“Thank you,” she says softly, looking up into my eyes.

“What for?”

“For tonight. For this. For everything.”

Joy floods through me. I can no longer deny the blatantly obvious. This is not just about keeping Ana safe. Along with protecting her, making her happy is my number one priority tonight. I care about Ana. Care far too much. The only other females who’ve been anywhere near this close to my heart were my mother and sisters.

Sadness invades.

“What’s wrong?” Ana’s eyes fill with concern.

“Not a thing.” Releasing her hand, I break our formal dancing posture and pull her closer toward me. She rests her head on my chest as her hands slide around my neck and mine span her entire upper body.

I know that she’s strong, but in my hands, she seems so tiny, so fragile. One resting on her lower back, the other between her shoulder blades, my hands absorb Ana’s movements, soak in her innate goodness. This woman is so tiny, so delicate, and yet I’ve witnessed the power her small body can wield, and that combination of strength and fragility is the single sexiest thing I have ever imagined, never mind witnessed.

“Your heart’s beating quickly,” she says, as her fingers stroke my neck. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just thinking.” I hug her more tightly, and she sighs contentedly in my arms.

“What are you thinking about?” She’s not going to let this go until I tell her something, but what?

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