Page 3 of Princess Claimed

I swallow, hard. Despite how much Phil resents me, how much he hates me really, he still feels driven to protect me. But unless I want Timur to be murdered—again—I need to prove to Phil, to all these men, that I’m happy to be reunited with my mate, even if he’s not really my mate.

Revealing that particular truth is now moot and would only complicate this already awkward meeting. Reuniting with Timur isn’t why I’m leaving these men’s protection. It’s time to return to my duties. It’s time for me to go back to where I belong.

“It’s very good to see you, Timur.” Slowly, I step toward him.

Stiffly, Timur steps forward, and then pulls me into an embrace. A deeper embrace than I’ve ever received from my former blood partner before. He was clearly scared that he’d lost me too.

“My Anastasia,” he says so softly it’s barely audible. “After so long, you are finally mine.”

I stiffen, but then try to relax. Does he think I’ve changed my mind about loving him? Was my acting better than I thought?

My body itches to push out of his arms, but I can’t set him straight here. I can’t raise suspicions amongst the brothers and certainly don’t want to get into an awkward conversation with Timur until we’re alone. Gently, I push back against his hold, and he releases me, taking my hand. He never held my hand.

“We must go, my love,” he says. “I have a car waiting for us.”

I nod. It will be a relief to be back at DEFTA. To touch base with the palace, to see my friend Ember, and to learn what’s developed in the Mariano negotiations since I’ve been gone.

Crusher looks directly into my eyes, and I smile, nodding my reassurance. I glance toward Flame and Blade, but both are looking away from me. Blade’s staring at the floor, and Flame at a small, steaming pool to the side of the room.

“We should leave too,” Crusher says.

“No,” Flame bursts in. “Let’s stay for a quick steam.”

Looking surprised, Crusher turns toward Flame, and an unspoken message passes between the men. I detect it, but don’t understand it. Why would they stay here after I leave? They have much nicer spa facilities in Freetown.

“Princess.” Crusher bows slightly. “It’s been an honor to serve you.”

“An honor and a pleasure,” Flame adds, and his use of the word ‘pleasure’ licks inside me. Timur may have been my first lover, but Flame was the first to introduce me to pleasures beyond what I ever imagined.

Blade says something that sounds sweet and sincere, but my mind is buzzing again, blocking my concentration. A million bees have let loose in my brain, swirling around to prevent me from processing anything. It will take a day or two to adjust. To get back into the swing of my old life. The new life I’d only just begun.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done.” I try to make eye contact with each of the brothers, but Blade and Phil are looking away. “I’ll never forget you. Any of you.”

Tugging on my hand, Timur leads me out of the room, and I resist the urge to look back as we leave. If I look back, I might never go. My body feels sluggish, as if the men have a tractor beam trained on me, pulling me back toward them.

It feels strange to have Timur holding my hand, and I can only assume that he’s acting, too. Crusher probably used the word mate, when they met, and so Timur is playing along to make sure we make a clean escape from these four vampires he must view as villains.

“I’ve found you at long last,” Timur says, keeping his eyes ahead, but squeezing my hand so tightly it hurts.

“I’m glad to see you too.” But my tone betrays the lie in my broken heart.

“You don’t know how long I have searched—” Timur cuts himself off. “I thought you were dead.”

Timur’s never been one for exaggeration, but for him, I suppose these past twelve days seemed like forever. In a way, I had it easier, believing I knew what had happened to him, tragic though it was.

“I thought you were dead too.” I need to focus on the objectively happy news that my old friend is still alive.

Timur opens the car door for me, and I slide into the back of the limousine, its windows tinted black. There’s a panel of dark glass between us and the driver too. Timur sits and closes the door behind him, and it’s like we’re in a dark cave.

My eyes switch to night vision, but Timur presses a button. Soft red lighting comes on, ribbons of small LED lights ring the roof of the car.

“Vodka?” he asks, gesturing toward a small bar to the side.

I shake my head. Since when does Timur drink vodka?

“That’s right,” he says. “You now prefer blood.”

“I don’t need blood either.” I study Timur, this vampire I’ve known for so many years. His phrasing is odd, but this reunion is awkward for both of us. I fed while we were parted—the first time I’ve fed from another vampire, and he must be able to sense that. He’s hurt.

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