“What does she smell like to you, Lach?”
I see a puzzled look cross his face as he contemplates his response, while Ri makes quick work of stripping and remaking the bed.
With a goofy grin he says, “Cookies.” Then he laughs. It’s good to see him relax a bit. “Freshly baked cookies, the kind my Grandma used to make when I was a kid. She smells like…. home.” He looks at her with such adoration as he describes her scent, that grin softening his sharp features.
Finished making the bed, Ri grabs a button down shirt from a drawer beneath the bed and tells Lach to sit down on the mattress, supporting Trinity. Her breasts sway as he sits and a collective groan fills the small space.
Trinity is sitting on his lap, upright, Lach holding her under her arms, his large hand gently fingering the side of her breast, touching her soft skin. Ri threads one limp arm through the green plaid shirt, then Lach sits her up further as Ri drapes the shirt over her back, then Ri supports her as Lach puts her other arm in its sleeve. God, she looks so fucking sexy, with just her pink tips barely peeking out from behind Ri’s shirt. The sight makes my mouth water, and my cock springs back to life.
Fuck, this female is going to be the death of me.
Ri hurries to close the buttons on her shirt, and Lach stands back up before placing her on the freshly made bed. Lach lifts her legs, and Ri pulls the shirt down underneath her, covering her to mid thigh.
I motion for them to follow me over to the table. Ri and Lach sit across from me, and a feeling of deja vu hits. I massage my temples and run a hand down my face before addressing them.
“Wow.”
“Wow.” They both agree, with smiles on their faces.
“We fucking did it!” Lach exclaims.
“We really did. I can hardly believe it,” Ri states. “Feels like a dream.”
“Thank you, Lach, Ri,” I say, looking each one in the eye as I do so. “I couldn’t have done this without you. The phoenix empire is forever in your debt.” I glance towards Trinity. “It’s been a long fucking day, and we’re all exhausted. Let’s get some rest and discuss plans for returning home in the morning. I’m going to sleep next to Trinity.” I look at both of them, daring them to challenge me. Instead, they nod and smile at me.
“Of course, Keegan. Go hold your mate.” Orian says with a gleam in his bright green eyes.
Getting up from the booth, I take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes before lying down next to the Princess. Rolling onto my left side, I brace an arm under my head and run my gaze over her angelic face. Using the tip of my finger, I trace around her soft features, down her tiny pointed nose and her full lips. I listen to the soft sounds of her breathing, watch the steady rise and fall of her chest with each intake of air.
Reaching deep inside myself, I tug on our bond. The link feels stronger now as hers thrums in response to my call. I know then that she’s going to make it. I sigh in contentment, close my eyes, and drift off to sleep with my arm draped over her hips. My heart’s happy, and my phoenix is satisfied... for now.
The Princess maintains her comatose state over the course of the next week. Either myself, Keegan, or Lach stay on constant watch, sitting by her side at all times to monitor for even the slightest change.
Right now it’s my turn to care for the Princess. After I’ve administered several bags of saline, vitamins, and supplements to ensure proper nutrition, I sit down on the edge of the bed with her prone form right beside me. Taking her small wrist in my hand, I check her pulse and time her respirations, both of which have been within normal limits for the past two days. I’m confident she will wake soon.
It seems our Princess is full of surprises. We were all shocked to learn of the power in her blood, but she also has elevated healing abilities. I discovered this the first time I placed the cannula in her vein and left it. Her body healed around it, and it had to be surgically removed. So every night, I remove it from her body and insert it into a new position.
Her laceration is also healing at an fascinating rate. I change her dressing twice a day and apply more healing salves, but at this point they are almost unnecessary. Most would have died from the severity of her condition, and I’m not just referring to the deadly gash in her sternum. With countless vampire bites and brutal evidence of torture, the most prolific cause to her potentially fatal condition was the extreme blood loss. With vampiric anticoagulant flooding her bloodstream, her blood was unable to clot and massive amounts were expelled.
She’s remarkable.
It would be an understatement to say that we are relieved at her progress. Keegan remained steadfast in his belief that the Princess would recover, he said he could feel it in his bond, and I for one believed him. Keegan is a male of his word, and if he believes strongly about something, then more often than not, what he says is the truth.
The door to the camper opens, and my team walks in just as I’m about to change her dressing.
“How is she?” Keegan inquires.
“Doing well. Her eyes are moving under her lids, indicating that she is dreaming. Her pulse remains steady, and her respirations are consistent. She should wake soon.” I raise my eyes to look at them. “Everyone remember what we’ve discussed?”
“Yes, Ri. Can you stop bugging us please?” Lachlan growls, as he rolls his eyes with his arms crossed over his broad chest and an annoyed look on his face.
“This isn’t something to get complacent about, Lach! She’s the Princess, for fucks sake.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve risked everything for her! Dammit, Ri! You know how much I care about her.” With a sharp intake of breath and raised eyebrows, I consider his words. Lach tries to remain hard and stoic, but a look of shock falls across his face when he realizes his confession. He didn’t mean to say what he did. His admission was not planned. Lach doesn’t throw emotions around easily, much less admit to them. Not that he’s any good at hiding how drawn he is to the Princess. His face remains passive when it’s his turn to watch her, but his eyes… they betray him. He looks at her with adoration, and if I’m being honest, we all do.
I turn back to our resident sleeping beauty and unbutton her shirt, pulling the halves apart only enough to reveal the dressing. Even though I’m trying to protect her modesty, I have to admit I find it quite arousing when her nipples peek out from under the seam.
Carefully, I remove the medical tape and gauze covering her wound. Then I clean the remaining scab with antibacterial soap. I took the sutures out days ago. Once I discovered the issue with the cannula, I knew the sutures would have to come out too. The scar is still bright pink but completely closed.
Remarkable.
Glancing at her angelic face, I can’t help but feel an indescribable pull whenever I’m near her, something deep within my heart. Her soul calls to mine like a swirling vortex, sucking me into her depths, and I am helpless to avoid it. Not that I want to. When I’m with her I feel a sense of peace, tranquility, and purpose. Like I’m meant to be with her. These feelings have intensified over the past week as she’s continued to grow stronger. I must admit, I’m a little nervous. If my feelings for her are this strong when she's unconscious, I struggle to imagine how powerful they will become when she is awake and healed.
Placing a salve on the scar, I leave her shirt open as it dries. Turning back to look at the guys, I find them sitting down at the table to eat lunch. I stand up to join them, grabbing the sandwich Keegan made me from the counter on my way. Sitting next to Lachlan, I let my mind wander while they banter back and forth, when a feminine groan reaches my ears.
We all freeze, eyes wide with bits of half chewed food in our mouths as we all slowly turn to look in the direction of the Princess. Another moan shakes me from my stupor. Excitement fills my veins, and I smile.
The Princess is waking up!
Waking up is difficult. My eyes feel heavy, not yet ready to be opened. My last memories are hazy, like looking through a veil of fog.
&n
bsp; What happened to me?
Opening my senses, I immediately recognize that I’m not in my room as a flood of unusual scents infiltrate my nose. Fear spikes.
Am I with a new Handler?
I internalize a groan as I take stock of myself. My body feels broken. I’m not sure I could even survive a session in this condition. Then I hear three distinct male voices coming from my left. One strikes me as familiar, and I’m almost comforted by it. My phoenix stirs, and I try my best to shut her down in my confusion.
Unsure of where I am and not wanting to alert them that I’m awake, I still and try to take in as much information as I can. First, I notice that I’m lying on something soft that smells clean and fresh.
That’s weird.
Usually when I wake up with a new Handler, I’m on a cold, hard, and uncomfortable surface. Making the smallest of movements with my limbs, I realize I’m not wearing any shackles.
That’s strange.
I’m always restrained when I wake up in a new place.
What the hell is going on here?
One thing I know for sure…Everything hurts. My throat is parched, my limbs feel like lead weights, and the center of my chest feels like someone stabbed me with a knife... I gasp when the memories come flooding back, and my eyes fly open.
I turn my head towards the voices I heard. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the three massive males staring at me. It’s been years since I laid eyes on anyone in person. The moment is shocking and I find myself unable to form words.
Unsure of their motives, I sit up and scooch myself back on the bed until my spine rests in the corner with my knees bent in front of me and take in my situation.
I’m in a small room, not much bigger than my cell, but somehow, I feel safe here. The males seem just as unsure of me as I am of them. They all stare back at me with their eyes wide.
I find it hard to describe the mix of emotions flooding through me when I take in their forms. All three look hard, their bodies solid muscle, but it’s their faces that I can’t stop staring at. One man looks as if he could be made of snow. His hair is long and white, and his eyes are a shade of blue so pale, they’re almost white. His features are sharp, and angular, so very masculine. Even with his pouty lips and stern look, I find myself drawn to him.
A look of wonder crosses the second male’s face, like he is surprised to find me here. He has blood red hair that’s short and spikey, and his green eyes seem to sparkle. His features are much softer than the first, making him look young. But it’s his eyes that catch me off guard; they seem to hold all of the answers to the million questions running through my mind. Happiness brightens his face, and the hint of a grin pulls at his full lips which shows off the dimples on his cheeks. I find I want to smile back at him, that I would do anything to see him happy.
The third sticks out with his messy blue hair and blue eyebrows to match. His features appear less angular than the first and not as boyish as the second but it doesn’t detract from his good looks. Even sitting, he commands the room, oozing authority. The second my lavender eyes connect with his golden ones, my heart skips a beat, and my breath catches in my throat as my phoenix screams to be let out. A memory of blue feathers flash in my mind as a rush of emotion courses through my broken body when I look at him. Tears prickle at the back of my eyes.
No. It couldn’t be…
Then he calls in a tentative voice, “Princess?” I let out a sob and hold my face in my hands as my heart melts at the sound of his voice. His use of that term of endearment opens the floodgates and uncontrollable tears fall from my eyes. It’s him. The male with no name who gave me the best night of my miserable life.
I feel my lips quiver when I look up at him from under my wet lashes. “Is it really you?” I ask, my scratchy voice barely above a whisper.
That's when he smiles, and it’s the most wonderful sight I have ever laid my eyes on. “Yes, Princess. It’s really me. You remember me?” He says the last as half a question and half a statement. Like he can’t believe that I remember who he is. How could I possibly forget him? How he made me feel and the way my Phoenix responded to him… how she is still responding.
But I won’t let my guard down, even though my soul reaches out, desperate to connect with him. I don't know them. They could mean me harm or want to use me. Maybe they have used me.
“Who are you?” My voice comes out stronger this time.
“I’m Keegan, and this is Lachlan and Orian.” Keegan introduces, pointing as he goes.
“Keegan,” I whisper to myself, loving the way his name rolls off my lips.
“We’re a team of Phoenix warriors tasked with finding you by your father. We’ve been looking for you for years.”
“My... my father?” My whole stills, going numb at this statement, and my guard crumbles as more tears fall from my eyes. I have a family? A family who hired a team to find me?
“Yes, Princess. We have so much to tell you, and we will, but first, how are you feeling? You suffered through quite an ordeal and slept for almost seven days.”
“Seven days?” Oh my god. Has it been that long since… I shudder and close my eyes, resting my head on my knees, not wanting to invoke those terrible memories. After a moment, I open my eyes and look down to see what I’m wearing. It’s a long shirt with buttons going up the center. It must be one of theirs because it’s huge on me. But the fact that the shirt gapes, open down to just below my navel draws my gaze. The gap reveals the swell of my breasts and a huge pink scar that mars my skin from my chest to my belly.
I gasp in surprise at the mutilation done to my body. Using a single shaking finger, I explore the length of the scar, gliding along its rough ridges, and shudder at the memory of the agony I suffered from the blade that sliced through my skin.
How am I alive?
A sob escapes me, and I close my eyes, splaying my hand against my chest. I can still feel him squeezing my heart. Tears drip down my cheeks, and I take a deep breath before opening my eyes again. “Can you tell me what happened to me? How did I escape?” My voice shakes as I whisper, “I remember dying that day.”
Keegan gulps, seeming hesitant, as he stands before motioning to himself and his team. “We saved you, Princess. We all did.”
They saved me? Someone out there actually cares about me. Overwhelmed with a deep sense of gratitude for them, I nod and drop my head in my hands and cry. My shoulders shake, and my chest heaves as I let it out, all of these emotions stored and built up inside me after years of captivity and isolation.
I’m angry at how I was used for my body and my blood, an unwilling participant in so many sadistic sessions. I’m despondent that not a soul cared about me or did anything to help me. Left with a supreme sense of vulnerability from the constant degradation. The terror I felt day after day, waking up in the grip of unknown Handlers, helpless and at their nonexistent mercy as I lie bound before them.
I’m forever indebted to them and want to tell them how much I appreciate what they must have sacrificed to save me. Opening my tear filled eyes, I look at each one of them.
Keegan has stopped by the sink and the others have not moved. “Thank you. All of you.” I choke out between sobs, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I’m forever in your debt. I don’t know if I can ever repay the kindness you’ve shown me but-”
“Oh, Princess, we don’t want you to pay us back,” Keegan assures me as he comes to the side of the bed and gingerly sits on its edge. He reaches for me, and I don’t mean to, but I flinch. A look of sadness crosses his face, and he retracts his hand. “You are worth more than any prize, any amount of money or recognition.”
“Me?” I scoff. “I’m just a slave girl, hardly worth the effort you put in to save me.”
“You don’t know who you are, do you?” Orian asks me in disbelief.
My eyebrows raise at his question. Because no, I don’t know who I am. I’ve never been called anything except slut, or whore, or female. Shame washes over
me, and I hang my head, sniffing back more tears.
Keegan inches closer to me. “Please don’t cry.” He’s so fucking sweet, and his face is full of concern. This time I don’t stop him when he reaches for me. “Come here. Please. Allow me to hold you, Princess.”
I nod my head, and he scoots over to me on the bed, wrapping his large, muscular arms around me. Laying my head on his shoulder and inhaling his fresh scent, a sense of peace washes over me and I allow myself to drown in the comfort of his warm embrace. He splays one hand on my lower back, and the other cradles my head, his fingers massaging into my hair. Every gesture is full of tenderness. A fierce sense of protectiveness rolls off him in waves, pulling at the connection I feel to him deep within me. The fact that he cares about me so much makes me cry even harder. He squeezes me against his hard chest while I bawl, the profound sense of relief I feel pouring down my face. Unwrapping my arms from around my legs, I reach up and grip his shirt in a clenched fists, holding him to me, afraid if I let go he will cease to exist.
“I can’t believe you’re real.” My voice comes out in a choked sob. I release his shirt now damp with my tears to look up at him. What stares back at me makes my heart pound and stop all at once. My breath catches, and my phoenix preens under my skin.
“Princess,” he whispers with need. His golden eyes sear into mine with a look I’d never thought to dream of receiving from another. My phoenix responds, answering the call to what’s hers... what she yearns for.
Mine.
He removes his hands from behind my back and cradles my face, his thumbs wiping rogue tears off my cheeks in the most gentle and affectionate way while his eyes search mine. He groans and closes his eyes, lowering his forehead to mine. His hot breath fans my face as he brushes his nose against mine. My breath hitches when he grazes his lips against my own. “Please,” he whispers against my mouth. When I don’t say no, he closes the miniscule gap between us and kisses me.
Bound For Blood (Feathers & Fire Book 1) Page 16