Page 68 of Princess Claimed

We both turn back to Jane.

“Amelia slid one of her hands under my dress and onto my breast. Then she moaned, and I nearly had an orgasm, right then and there. It had been years since anyone had touched me like that—with so much desire. Not since I was a teenager. I thought my sexual years were long behind me.”

“Little did I know, they hadn’t yet begun.” Jane licks her lips, and her cheeks flush.

“But how did you know you were in love?” I ask her. “How does anyone know?”

She turns toward me. “Some say it happens slowly and then all at once. But for me, love came all at once. The sexual attraction had been there since the first night I saw her, but Amelia’s kindness, her laugh, the way she flirted with all the boys without making any one of them jealous.” She pauses, inhaling deeply. “Amelia has a magic way with people. It’s impossible not to love her.”

Flame has that knack too, but thoughts of Ana drift through my mind. The instant sexual attraction part rings true. Before Ana, I’d never felt aroused around a fully dressed female. Even after feeding, I typically don’t get aroused until a wet pussy is spread in front of me. Plus, when I wanted to fuck, I’d take any hole I could find.

And like Jane’s describing, I admire other things about Ana too. How thoughtful she is. How intelligent. How she expresses interest in my books, and how she looks at me… Desire shudders through my body, bringing an aching heat to my chest.

From the moment we met, I wanted to stay at Ana’s side. I wanted to protect her from anything and everything. And the more I know her, the more I admire her. I was hoping to ask Jane how to get rid of love once you’re infected, but I’m no longer interested in that. Plus, it doesn’t sound like she knows.

And thinking so much of Ana reminds me of my research. I tap the books. “I should get started.”

“Good idea,” Jane says, “because those are just a few of the books I have for you.” She turns to Flame. “Come with me. You can help carry books, and we can talk more, if you like.”

“Sure.” Flame puts a hand on my shoulder as he rises, and the two of them head toward the stairs leading up the tiers of books.

I open the first volume, its pages yellowed with age, and carefully skim through its contents, grateful that this one is in German, a language I read quickly. Written only two centuries ago, its vocabulary is familiar too, and there’s even a table of contents and an index to assist me.

But I quickly realize there’s not much in the book beyond what I already learned at DEFTA. It confirms that demonic possessions have been very rare for over three thousand years, and almost unheard of since the fifteenth century, when powerful witches forced our world’s demons into another realm. No demon is known to have walked in our realm since then. Now they require a host.

While a possessed host can be dangerous, the book claims they can’t do anything that the individual couldn’t have done without the demon, even if the demon can drive them to do things they might not have done.

Given Ana’s history with Rasputin, it’s not clear how much Rasputin would have done on his own, but I’m growing more certain that hurting her—truly hurting her—was the demon’s idea. I just don’t know why.

I open the next book. This one’s in Old English, another language with which I’m comfortable, although I stumble over some of the spellings, slowing my reading speed.

Flame and Amelia return with two more big piles.

“What are you looking for exactly?” she asks. “Perhaps I can help?”

“That would be great.” I can read very quickly, but there’s no chance I’ll get through all these books before the sun next sets—just over seventeen hours this time of the year in NYC, and I do not want to spend a moment longer than necessary away from Ana.

Without mentioning Ana or Rasputin by name, I quickly give Jane an overview of what I most want to know. I also mention the dagger that stabbed Phil and show her a photo of it on my phone.

Her eyes widen. “Let me grab a few more books. Flame, will you help me?”

They go off again and I drop back into the books.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Phil

Itoss off my shirt, kick off my boots, then recline on the soft, cushion-like furniture, lifting Ana so she’s straddling my ribs. Cupping her behind, I slip my hands under her extra short dress while I stare into her eyes. She’s not wearing underwear, which makes me even more furious with that asshole on the dance floor, but I don’t want to think about him. Not now.

I owe him an apology, but he owes Ana one too.

The way she lifted my burdens tonight deepens my love for her. Not only did she not run when I told her the horrible things that I’ve done, she accepted them as part of my past. Part of me. Given all I’ve done—back then and tonight—how can she stand to be in the same room as me? How is she not disgusted. Terrified.

“You are a fucking miracle.”

She grins. “You’re the miracle.”

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