Page 119 of Falling Princess

“I can walk, Princess,” he grumbled.

“Mhm. You dragged yourself all the way back from Manchester. I know, tough guy.” I didn’t let go. “Let’s get these off you.”

I pushed him back onto the bed and reached for the fastenings on his bloodied jeans. Alarm flashed in his blue eyes. Purple bruises covered his hands as he brushed mine away.

“No—hey, better let me—”

“As if you have enough blood left in you for that.” I backed off and turned away to give him a bit of privacy, though not before I glimpsed the scar on his abdomen. “How did you get the one on your stomach?”

“Run-in with pirates.” He grunted. The jeans landed on the floor. Rustling bedclothes. “They fight differently. There’s no artistry, only brutality. They hack and slash with machetes, their preferred weapons. Or gun you down.”

“I don’t like guns.” I shuddered.

“Nor do I, but not having them puts us at a disadvantage.” He patted the bed. “Come here.”

I perched on the edge.

“I’ll sleep better if I know you’re safe.”

“We’ll get caught.” I let him pull me down, though, and the covers up over us. His arm came around my waist, carefully avoiding his gash. My knight did, in fact, have enough blood left in him to get a partial erection, a sizable lump against my bottom. I pressed back against him a little, and Lorcan chuckled softly.

“They suspect. Cata definitely knows.” He yawned and kissed the nape of my neck. I intertwined my hand with his and squeezed. “This is all right.”

“What about my father?” I asked, but he was already asleep with his face buried in my hair. He smells like explosives and burned rubber. He needs a bath. I sighed and held our clasped hands near my heart. Cradling all my fragile hope.

* * *

That evening, Cata ordered pizza and turned on the news.

“Early this morning in Manchester, a warehouse exploded in an apparent gas fire. With the blaze under control, authorities have found eight victims. The identities are unknown. Police are searching for leads. Possible gang activity is suspected as the cause.”

Lorcan, who had bathed and relocated to the sofa downstairs, sat up, wincing. He scrubbed his face with bruised hands.

“Eight, huh?”

I glared at him and kicked his foot under the blanket.

“Careless of you to make the evening news,” Cata observed.

“You’ve done it, too,” Lorcan pointed out.

Cata tilted her head, a silent concession, and held out a beer, which I accepted. “Why Manchester, do you think?”

“Port town. They’re colluding with sea pirates, after all. They’re acting more like an organized crime unit in search of a base of permanent operations. Manchester has lots of warehouses to hide contraband.”

Judging from his tiny self-satisfied smirk, Lorcan destroyed it all. I nudged him again. Kenton was right. He’s an arrogant little shit underneath all that propriety. My heart fluttered when he nudged me back.

Cata ignored us. “Auralia’s natural resources mean instant riches, if they can conquer us. But that’s not what worries me most.”

“It’s not?” How could being conquered by pirates not be her biggest worry?

“No. It’s Saskaya’s Sentinels I’m more concerned about. Specifically, the power source. She doesn’t know what it is, and neither does anyone else. It’s not nuclear; Sas has worked with it for decades. It doesn’t trip Geiger counters. But it can cause laser blasts, for lack of a better description. In the wrong hands, it could be used to blow up entire cities.”

She sipped her beer before continuing.

“You’ve seen what’s happening with these robotic soldiers the United States is using to patrol its borders. I think that’s why the Covari broke down the Sentinels and hid them. They were too dangerous then. Sas won’t listen, but after the way their prototype attacked you, it’s logical that they still might be. Like that Terminator movie.”

Her mouth flattened into a grim line. There was a heaviness to Cata’s voice that I’d never heard before. She’s a stern leader but an optimist at heart.

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