Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Soon, it would be over.

  Thank God, it will be over.

  He’ll leave.

  He’d…leave.

  My shoulders slumped a little before I remembered I wanted him to leave. I hated him because of the consequences he lumped me with when he’d walked out the door.

  Master A would most likely kill me—that was all I had to look forward to. A clean death rather than endless punishment.

  Unless my plan works and Mr. Prest steals me.

  What did Mr. Prest have to look forward to? An empire he ruled, a kingdom I could only imagine, in a palace I could only dream.

  Tearing my eyes away, I did my best to silence unwanted thoughts and fall back into my lifeless position.

  “You can look,” he whispered. “I have full intention of looking at you.” His shoulders bunched as he reached over his head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt. With a dark glare, he wrenched the fabric off, undressing a torso I’d only seen in my fantasies.

  For a man with mixed authenticities, his body wasn’t confused as to what made him excel in this world. Long, lithe arms with perfectly proportioned biceps and tight forearms. Broad but not too broad chest with pectorals and obliques and a washboard stomach that seemed too strong for his skin.

  But none of that mattered as my eyes drifted toward the sweeping masterpiece.

  I sucked in an awed breath.

  His ribcage was visible. His flesh open, revealing a dragon hidden beneath the bones.

  That can’t be.

  But it was.

  My fingers itched to prove it, to insert my hand into the chamber of his chest and stroke the hissing reptile within.

  Somewhere inside me, I knew it wasn’t real, just excellent trickery. Whoever had done the ink had made it look so three dimensional, so realistic, I swore I looked into his body and witnessed his heart beating all while the slithering dragon exhaled smoke, protecting its master like the gatekeeper to his soul.

  Mr. Prest didn’t move. Sitting on his heels, he allowed my inspection as I swayed forward, fooled into thinking if I turned left or right, I’d see his spleen, liver, and kidneys. The tattoo was so lifelike, so deep in detail, I squirmed at the thought of real bones pressing against me rather than encased in human flesh.

  “It’s not real.” He ran his palm over his side that looked cavernous and gaping. His fingers whispered over his muscles with no blood from an exposed ribcage or being bitten by the hissing dragon in his cavity. “See?”

  Dropping his hand, he cocked his chin at my frozen form. “What I do, you must too.” His eyebrow rose, finishing his sentence. Remove yours.

  I stiffened.

  Being naked in front of him didn’t scare me. Nakedness was just another dress code. Master A had cured me of private places or secret spots on my body.

  But that was before I saw his beauty, both natural and adorned.

  All I had to offer were muddy bruises and sun-deprived skin.

  Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, his eyes darkening. “Obey.”

  The word rippled from his mouth to my ears. Making me angry and itchy and dazed.

  He wants to look?

  Fine.

  The longer I spent in his company, the more I sensed hesitation on his part. He wasn’t like others who would’ve spun me around and taken me over the bed the moment the door was in place.

  He wasn’t here to take me quickly.

  He wasn’t here to take something physical.

  What does he want?

  And what will happen if he gets it?

  Sitting upward on my knees, I cocked my chin at the corner of the room, searching once again for the portal where Master A watched. Gritting my teeth, expecting the door to soar open with shrapnel and cannon fire, I grabbed the hem of the white dress and jerked it over my head.

  The air-conditioned breeze licked around my flesh. I prickled with awareness as Mr. Prest sucked in a breath, his vision tracing paths from my lips to nipples to core.

  The way he watched me frothed my stomach.

  I wasn’t beautiful like him.

  But for some reason, he saw something in me that I’d lost so long ago.

  Leaning forward, he snatched the dress from my hands and threw it on the floor. “Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. So much bloody worse.”

  Worse?

  Any confidence he’d granted ripped into tear-filled bubbles.

  Worse!?

  How dare he say such a thing!

  With nothing to hide myself with, I wrapped my arms around my body, doing my best to shield my nakedness that he called the worst he’d ever seen.

  Anger swatted at my dismay. This wasn’t what I chose. I didn’t want to be this skinny and broken. How dare he destroy me so callously?

  I almost wanted Master A to appear. At least, no matter how ugly and beaten I was, he always wanted me.

  Mr. Prest shifted, his large hands cupping the bulge between his legs. “I’d planned on finding pleasure from you tonight.” He wasn’t subtle as his cupping turned to grasping—the outline of his cock a thick rod in his trousers. “I’d planned on fucking you because, despite your awful fashion sense and wild hair, you turned me on.”

  Turned me on.

  Not turn me on.

  I should be grateful his attraction was past tense. It meant whatever these mad few minutes had been, it was over before Master A stormed in.

  He glanced at what he stroked. “Does that scare you?”

  That you wanted me?

  No.

  I’d been pretty, once upon a time, but it didn’t mean my dark brown hair and mossy eyes were what all boys found attractive. However, in this environment, I could safely say all men wanted me. Because all the men I came into contact with were heathenous hounds, not seeing me for me but for what I represented: the freedom to fuck and hurt with no repercussions.

  Until him, of course.

  My head swam as confusion made me dizzy.

  “Unfortunately, now I’ve seen what he tried to hide beneath those awful clothes.” His upper lip curled with revulsion. “And it fucking changes everything.”

  I couldn’t look up—couldn’t bear to stare at a man who hired me and then fired me the moment I stripped.

  I was a slave.

  I had nothing of my own.

  My self-confidence was a battered, flimsy thing and he’d just taken the tiny scrap I had left and stomped all over it.

  Sucking in a huge gust of air, Mr. Prest scrubbed his face. “Drop your arms, let me see.”

  I obeyed immediately.

  He wanted to terrorise himself further by looking upon my grotesqueness?

  Be my guest.

  A few seconds ticked past as his eyes roamed over me. Finally, he whispered, “You’re more black than white and more blue than healthy pink, but you’re not shy about revealing it.”

  Shy?

  It wasn’t about shyness.

  It was about knowing my place and doing what I was told.

  I did what you requested!

  This man had no notion of the rules and laws I lived in. He didn’t have experience dealing with bought creatures.

  That soothed my rage a little, knowing I might be the worse he’d ever seen, but he wasn’t the worst I’d ever encountered.

  “What happened to you?” His voice dropped to arctic levels.

  My nipples stiffened at the chill while his scorching eyes heated me.

  Did he expect me to tell him when the answers were all around him?

  Stupid man.

  “Silence won’t save you from me, Pimlico.” Mr. Prest pushed off his knees, reclining on the bed again. His head rested against the headboard, his motions smooth and unhurried. Never taking his attention off me, he straightened his legs and with nimble fingers unbuckled his trousers.

  I swallowed hard.

  The soft clink of the metal buckle sounded loud as he tossed the ends of his belt to opposite sides and popped the button before the harsh rasp of a zipper be
ing undone filled the room. “You think I won’t touch you just because I’ve seen your injuries?”

  My heart took control, bellowing my lungs like a blacksmith forging steel.

  “You think I’m a nice guy who will treat you with more respect than the men who marked you?” He pulled the waistband of black boxer-briefs from his tattooed stomach, inserting his right hand into their depths. His jaw clenched as his hips arched a little, granting some slack for his fingers to wrap around himself.

  The way his face etched with deep concentration and his teeth imprisoned his lip was the hottest thing I’d seen since I’d been murdered and sold.

  “I’m not.” His tongue swiped where his teeth had bitten. “I’m not someone you can fuck around. When I ask for something, I expect to get it. Immediately.”

  A sudden wash of fear and rebellion crashed over me as his hand shifted in his trousers.

  “You have a choice. Give me what I want or I’ll take what I want.” He smiled harshly, his eyes flicking around the room as if expecting company at any moment. “Your pick.”

  I blinked.

  I didn’t understand this new game. He’d already told me my bruises changed everything—that he no longer wanted me. He could’ve taken me the moment he’d stolen me, so why threaten me with sex when he would rather be in a different bed with a different girl?

  My chin pressed against my sternum, doing my best to delete such puzzlement.

  “Look at me.” His voice turned gruff as his hand moved, whispering with sin.

  Pinching my thighs to retain some sort of dignity, I did as he requested. This time, I couldn’t stop my fascination as I drank all of him. From the way his lips glittered, to his stomach rising and falling and his dragon twisting beneath the optical illusion of rib bones.

  “Remember, what I do, you do.”

  My mouth parted in shock.

  He…he wants me to touch myself?

  I’d never touched myself.

  First, because a strict mother, who barged into my room at all hours with no care for my privacy, raised me, and second, because I lived with a master who made me despise all nether regions.

  Why would I want to touch myself?

  Why molest that part of me when it was molested far too often already?

  He bit his lip again, this time sucking the wet flesh into his mouth as his arm bunched. “Do you want me to treat you like a whore? You’d rather obey demeaning demands than answer a few simple questions?” His voice gruffed to a growl. “You’ll learn to make better choices soon enough.”

  Our eyes locked before a panic attack latched onto my lungs like a parasite. I can’t believe I felt safer with this man—that I thought he was different.

  His face clenched with frustration as I dropped my eyes, letting him have authority.

  “Tell me where you came from. Tell me who stole you and how Alrik ended up with you. Give me that and I’ll wrap you in your bed sheet and protect you for the remaining hours we have together. Don’t answer and you’ll wish you had.”

  I trembled, hating the way my back rolled on its own accord, making me smaller, tighter—invisible.

  Time stretched onward.

  Finally, he sighed heavily. “Is talking worth that much to you?” He jerked his hand from his trousers. “In that case…let’s see how much your voice is worth when everything else is on the line.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Elder

  I was many things, but an abuser, rapist, and fucking bastard were not part of my abundant faults and flaws.

  Yes, I’d entered Alrik’s house ready to take what belonged to him.

  Yes, I’d had impure intentions of using her for my pleasure.

  I’d even convinced myself she wasn’t my problem—just a sweetener to our business deal.

  But then she’d taken off her dress.

  And I just couldn’t fucking do it.

  How could I get hard over a girl who had so much strength in her heart but so much abuse painted on her skin? Her silence wasn’t the defiance I believed. Her muteness wasn’t courage or guts. It was the only damn thing she had left.

  And I want to steal that over anything her body can give me.

  I’d threatened her with sex. I’d stuck my hand down my pants, forcing her to believe I’d fuck her anyway. Instead of terror and disgust, she watched me with cold resignation. She’d lived in a world of pain and forced sex for so long, it was boring to her. Something expected and extracted while she remained hidden in her silent fortress, giving up her body in order to keep her mind.

  Fuck, that earned my respect.

  But it also pissed me off.

  Broaching the moat of her thoughts wouldn’t be a simple attack but a full-on siege.

  Ignoring my open trousers and naked chest, I shot upright, once again mirroring her on her knees. The tightness of my boxer-briefs hurt my cock. I despised that, despite my repulsion of her bruises, I couldn’t ignore my lust.

  Or was it abhorrence?

  No…

  I knew what it was, and it tainted everything—every breath and glance.

  Shame.

  She filled me with fucking shame.

  Her eyes followed me, hiding whatever she thought. The only way to crack her was to confuse her. Turn her in circles, blindfold and enrage her. Then perhaps, she’d break her voiceless oath and give me what I wanted.

  “I requested one night with you because I believed you were like me.”

  She froze.

  Had she met someone who used honesty for his benefit all while hiding his past? Did she care that I tasted her thoughts of suicide and understood what that felt like? That I’d once been as hurt as her but won over those who’d ruined me?

  She didn’t deserve to know because she refused to share a single thing in return.

  Pim bowed tighter in her kneeling position. Ugly hair hung around her face, casting shadows over her eyes, preventing me from seeing her secrets.

  Not permitted.

  Life hadn’t always been so black and white. I’d justified my means even while committing a crime—just like I was doing now.

  It made me a shitty human being, but so what?

  When I was starving and living on the streets, no one gave me a jacket to keep away the snow or bought me a meal to ensure I survived another day.

  I was an inconvenience. An eyesore.

  She’s not an eyesore.

  Even malnourished and far too skinny, she had a certain beauty about her. Her green eyes were the largest I’d ever seen. Her dark hair hung limp and lifeless, but the colour still spoke of a richness that hadn’t entirely dulled. However, that hair prevented my ability to read her.

  “Do you have a rubber-band?” Leaning forward, I scooped her dark strands and tugged them to her nape.

  She shivered—her skin breaking into goosebumps. I waited for a twitched eyebrow or slight twist of her lips. I wanted to know what she thought about me touching her this way.

  But no response.

  Not that it mattered.

  By the end of the night, I would know all I needed to.

  I’ll win, Pimlico.

  I always do.

  Keeping eye contact, my fingers separated parts of her hair. She sucked in a breath as I wrapped a smaller section around the larger pony and tucked it under.

  “There, nowhere else to hide.” Sitting back, I stared at her, finally able to see the angles of her cheekbones, the starkness of her jaw, and the sallowed hue of her mistreated skin.

  “You can’t stop me from getting my answers,” I murmured. “So I’d give up if I were you.”

  Her chin cocked with sharpness.

  “How are you still alive?” I chuckled. “When you’re so damn belligerent?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “You think you behave and do what’s expected of you, but I’ve been watching.” I dropped my voice. “I see you glare at him. I see your hatred. I feel it.”

  Her gaze darted to the corn
ers of the room, her shoulders rolling.

  I followed her concern. “You expect an unwelcome visitor soon, don’t you?”

  She stiffened.

  “You’re right. He won’t permit my presence for long.” I glanced at the door. “I don’t know how much time we have, so I guess I’ll have to work fast.”

  Her body seized; her bruised stomach fluttered.

  “I don’t mean I need to fuck you fast.”

  Her eyes whipped to mine.

  “If I do enjoy you that way, it will be after I’ve learned your secrets. Not before.”

  A ghost of a smile lit her lips.

  I laughed softly. “Do you think keeping your secrets will protect you from me?”

  Her huff pleased me as I dragged a hand through my hair and slowly relaxed into this strange inquisition. “Secrets have a way of coming out with the right people asking, Pimlico.”

  In a way, I was glad she didn’t speak. My own history was safe. She wouldn’t find out the reasons I was drawn to her. She wouldn’t know that I couldn’t walk away yet because I saw my past in her eyes.

  She was a minor hiccup in my world. My interest in her had nothing to do with her damaged beauty or immense courage. Nothing at all to do with the silhouette of what lay hidden between her legs or her tight pink nipples.

  Don’t be fucking ridiculous.

  I had self-control.

  I’ll prove it.

  Pointing at her bandage, I whispered, “I was the reason for that.”

  She didn’t move, but her violence-artwork skin turned white.

  Not letting her drown in whatever thoughts she swam in, I gently took her broken hand. “I know I caused this by touching you that night. And I know that, once I leave, you’ll be subjected to more.” My fingers stroked hers. “But don’t think I’ll suffer guilt knowing that. The world is a fucked-up place, and we all have our demons to bear. You won’t get compassion from me, but you will get respect.”

  Letting her hand go, I pushed her shoulder. “Lie down.”

  She swayed in impudence, but I increased my pressure, giving her no choice. Tumbling backward, her legs stayed locked together, hiding what I wanted to see. Her small breasts bounced making my mouth water.

  Fuck, why was I taking it slow with her?