Triple Major

Home > Other > Triple Major > Page 53
Triple Major Page 53

by Lana Hartley


  "Marry me," I say, shaking as I say the words. I'm nervous as hell that he doesn't even want that. After all, he owned me. I tried to put him in prison. But now I'm back, and I can't imagine my life without him. I need him to tell me that he wants me to be his forever. That he'll be mine.

  My eyes well up. I don't want them to, but I can't help it. After the rollercoaster ride I've been on, and now when I'm probably about to die, I cannot fucking contain the storm inside me. Not when it needs to meet Jacob's. Not when I need his everything to consume all of me.

  "You're afraid, I'm so sorry, Leah, but you don't have to pretend that you want me," Jacob says, and he's shaking. He's enraged at our captors, and I know he's never been so out of control. But the hurt that drips from his voice, the pain I see when his eyes look at mine. I can't breathe. A thousand daggers are attacking my heart. "I love you, Jacob Renaud. I fucking love you, and if I live, I will steal you if that's how I get to have you forever."

  Jacob looks at me. I'm shouting my exasperated words, and he must think that I sound crazy, but he's laughing with a wide and genuine looking smile. I start laughing, too.

  "Does that mean you love me too?" I ask him, and I can't help how desperate my words sound. I don't even give a shit right now. I need him to know. If we don't make it out of here, he has to know that I loved him with every fiber of my body, even if I didn't want to. Now, if I get the chance, I'm going to have to show him just how much I love him. I can never be away from him again.

  "Of course I love you, Leah. I've never loved anything the way I love you," he says, and there's a pain on his face. I think it is because Jacob has loved me, for some time, and I never let myself see it.

  "If you love her so much," the cretin who has us hostage says as he comes at me with a knife. "Then when I cut her heart out and hand it to you, it will be the only thing left in your collection."

  Jacob shouts, and I see him trying to break free and blood coloring the ties at his wrists. Fuck. Let this asshole come at me closer with this knife. I will do something. I don't know what. But this isn't the end of our story, not for Jacob and me. I know now that it can't be it. We're so much more. We've barely started. The asshole gets close enough to me that he's torn my shirt and pricked the skin of my stomach where he's stabbing, and he's tearing my shirt and a tiny, stinging line up my stomach and to my breast where my heart is. He thinks he's torturing me, but I swallow back the pain, gritting my teeth, and take my one shot. He's close enough to me, and he's got his guard down. My head isn't restrained. Jacob taught me the value in having some parts bound and some parts free. My hands are bound, but I slam the full force of my forehead into this asshole’s face. He falls back just a second, and the knife breaks free from his hands. I try to kick at it, but through the shouting yelps of pain from the cretin with a knife, I see that Jacob has broken his zip ties. He grabs the knife, and runs to set me free as quickly as he can. He kicks that asshole for a second, so he doesn't get up, and then turns to stab that jackass as soon as he does stand. It all happens so quickly, and for the second time, I see Jacob kill a man for me. I don't love him any less. It is fucked up, but I may love him more for it. I know killing is wrong, but he's protecting me. He's committing the ultimate sin for my safety, and I can't pretend not to feel a rush of love for him at that, no matter how wrong it is. He runs to wrap his arms around me, and I jump into his. I can't be without him.

  "Yes, I'll marry you," Jacob says, kissing me over and over again. "I love you so much, Leah Renaud."

  Of course, he's claiming me, down to my name. And for once, I don't want to just be my first name. I don't want to change it. I want to become Leah Renaud, and I feel like I always should have been.

  "I fucking love you so much," I say, and I realize I'm blubbering through tears. "I didn't want to," I tease. "But you always get what you want, even if you have to steal it."

  Jacob looks at me with the most aching, heartbreaking face. He's at once the strong man I trust more than anything to protect me, and he's the man who desperately needed to hear the words I have kept from admitting to myself and saying to him. "I love you so much," I repeat. "I'm going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives," I promise him.

  His hands cup my face. "You came back to me. You really...you're really mine," Jacob says. I hear his words catch in his throat. This powerful man is so tender for me. He needs me. I can never leave him again.

  "Always. I can't be without you ever again. I've never felt so horrible in my life. I couldn't stay away...and you were at the house...and I just needed you. I needed you so damn bad," I said, and now I'm crying. His thumbs reach up to wipe away my tears, and he kisses the top of my head.

  "Fuck, Leah, how can you love me? After everything? I've died a thousand deaths since I last kissed your lips," he says, his eyes hooded with lust, his voice thick with need, and I feel his cock pressing into my stomach, hard. All of him needs all of me, and this is everything I want. Everything I need. Jacob completes me in a way that I can't even put into words. I vow to try every day from here on out. I will never doubt the depth or necessity of my feelings for him ever again.

  His lips are slightly parted, and he's waiting for me to kiss him. The man who claims everything wants me to kiss him, me to give myself to him. "I'm always going to be yours, be with you, Jacob. I love you forever," I say, and I stare him down with my eyes, trying to drill this truth in. I press my lips to his and kiss him, tenderly, deeply, without care or thought for when I need to breathe until I'm gasping and still I want to kiss him more. He's holding my hand but he points to the body, now eerie and lifeless. "I have to take care of this," he tells me. I know he does. I should be horrified, or grossed out, or upset, or something. But I'm a selfish bitch right now getting the man of my dreams, who is mine forever, and who I know has escaped a near sure thing to land him in prison. He's killed the man who was supposed to put him there. And this man, who was supposed to be dead already? He's a fucking footnote in what shaped up to be my twisted, fucked up happily ever after.

  Sevensome

  A Dirty Snow White Fairy Tale

  By Lana Hartley

  Copyright 2018 by Dark Princess Press

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Want Lana Hartley in your inbox? Get freebies, new release updates, bonus chapters, and more!

  Sign up for Lana Hartley’s newsletter!

  Snow

  I sit back and wonder how much worse this can get. The news is horrible and it's probably being censored by the Royal Press Office.

  On the screen I can see the United Nations building as a reporter explains for what seems like the hundredth time what's going on in my kingdom.

  "Sources report that agents loyal to Queen Moira seized control of key Royal bases and offices in a well-coordinated movement designed while the King was overseas delivering a speech to the United Nations. They swiftly declared the King as unfit to rule and declared that he would be jailed should he decide to travel back to St. Carlta. King Guy Avondale currently resides in his hotel, in exile from his Kingdom, as the situation in St. Carlta unfolds," the commentator states.

  Only the situation in St. Carlta has already unfolded, and Moira has seized power. The people are rather stunned by what happened and some barely have any idea of what’s going on because one of the first places Moira’s agents descended on were the television stations and news outlets.

  I know they've been planning this for a while. They've blocked access to a bunch of sites on the Internet. They’ve taken over everything. No information comes into the kingdom without Moira’s men knowing.

  I mean, it's bad enough that there's been a coup and my father has been removed from power. But what's worse now is that I can't get on Facebook because th
e Queen and her cronies are worried that people will find out the full extent of how they've taken power and rise up.

  I wonder for the millionth time about my safety. As the only daughter of King Avondale, I must be a target. I have to be. Eventually she's going to want to come for me and remove me. She has to.

  But for now, she's trying to make sure that everything seems normal. She may even be wanting my support to reassure the citizens of the Kingdom that all is well. I mean what better way to do that than by having the daughter of the old King show up bending her knee to the new ruler.

  I scowl.

  I know she's been up to something from the moment she seduced my father. There was something about her that always hit me as just being a bit off. She used her guile to make sure that those around her did what she wanted them to. She seduced Father and got him to marry her. She became my stepmother and it became clear that she saw me as a threat.

  Well, maybe not that big of a threat.

  I mean, how much of a threat can one silly girl who is more into beauty pageants and nightclubs be?

  How much of a threat can a woman be who spends all her days dreaming of the man she is betrothed to? The one who was supposed to come and marry me, and then one day assume the throne with me. Prince Gladrell.

  Absently, I finger the tiara that I'm wearing. I won it at the latest beauty pageant.

  I mean, come on. I am the fairest of them all. That much is undeniable. I work out. I do CrossFit. I do yoga. Pilates.

  I know my butt looks good. I eat right. I've had music lessons, singing lessons, history lessons, and all manner of other lessons.

  Sure, I used to get around back when I was younger. My wild child days. Go out at night. Party like it was the end of the world. But even though those days are behind me, when I was in University, I think I got some lessons out of those as well. Like the proper way to suck a cock. The best way to squeeze your pussy as some dude is about to come to make him just go insane. How to deep throat. The lessons that you don't get royal tutors for, you know?

  Yeah, I'm not some little damsel in distress.

  I mean, I am a damsel. But I'm not innocent and pure. I believe that women should be allowed to do whatever men do. I know Prince Gladrell disagrees with me on that, but he's going to have to get used to the fact that I'm not a cute little virgin. He's going to be marrying an experienced pleasure seeker.

  Thinking about pleasure makes me think of Gladrell. How I can't wait till our wedding night, if the Queen still allows it to happen, and how I want his face in between my legs.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some woman totally in love with Gladrell. I barely know him. Instead, I know of him. And he’s all I’ve ever been told that I’d end up with, since we were kids. So every fantasy I’ve had, I’ve projected on him.

  Just thinking about the Prince’s face between my thighs has me all hot and even though I know that with everything with dad and the Kingdom going bad, I can't help myself. I need a way to get my mind off things.

  My hands go down my body and under my dress. I'm imagining him touching me. I close my eyes and sigh.

  Maybe it's time for some me time. I'm stressed. And I do need to relax.

  But I can't get any further than that because right that moment my door bursts open.

  I look over in alarm but who should be standing there but Prince Simon Gladrell himself.

  It's like some sort of weird sexual miracle and my alarm quickly relents to my lust. I give him a lascivious smile. Even though we've never actually fucked, I'm wondering if he wants to right now.

  But I don't even get a chance to say anything because the first words out of his mouth are, "Come with me, Snow, if you want to live."

  Well, that's not sexy. I mean it's not sexy in a let me spread my legs kind of way.

  "Moira is sending soldiers for you," Gladrell says as he takes me by the arm and I find myself following him. "She's going to imprison you to get you out of the public eye."

  That's rather sudden and pretty quick. Moira wouldn't touch me that quickly, would she?

  Gladrell seems to recognize the question going through my head.

  "She wants to get it all done in one fell swoop," he says to me as he looks me up and down. He doesn't register any sort of desire. Rather, it's mechanical. "She doesn't want any loose ends."

  So, that's what I am now?

  A loose end?

  We're walking down the castle at a fast clip and I don't know what I'm going to do once we get outside. I usually have an escort or at least a Royal bodyguard.

  "I need to pack," I begin but he doesn't let me finish.

  "There's no time," he says sharply as he turns a corner and then another. I hear voices far away and the clanking of boots. The soldiers are coming. "We need you out of the castle and into the woods and into town as quickly as possible. Head through the Lost Wood toward town. Two of my men will find you and take you to safety."

  "How will they find me?" I ask. I'm genuinely curious how two men are going to find me in the middle of a dark forest at night.

  "Don't worry about that," he says. "They know to look out for you."

  Bullshit.

  The look on my face says it all and Gladrell sighs as he stands by the side exit from the cellar where we've ended up.

  "Listen," he says slower and with more emotion. "It's safer for you out there where people know who you are than in here where no one can see you. You need to get out of the fucking castle."

  I look in his eyes. I trust him. He wants what's best for me. So I nod and he sighs in relief and opens the door.

  I head out into an empty alley that leads straight to the Lost Wood.

  It's chilly and I only have the clothes on my back.

  But there I go. By myself. Princess Snow Avondale, otherwise known as "Snow White." Headed to someplace I don't know where.

  I need the company, babe. Won't you please come along?

  Richard

  The Lost Wood is an unnerving place at night. Legend has it that hundreds of men have been lost and never recovered from the bowels of this place.

  Even on bright afternoons, the trees are so dense that they choke out most sunlight before it has a chance to reach the forest floor, and in that dappled shade, thick, green moss coats every tree trunk and branch, making it look as if the entire forest was populated by grotesque and greedy goblins.

  But for me, this forest is a second home.

  "Did you hear that?" Lucien asks.

  He stops sucking on his cigarette, and in the darkness, I watch as the cherry glows orange, burning its way down to his knuckle.

  "Don't tell me these woods are getting to your head?"

  He's silent for a moment, wondering if he's indeed going bat-shit crazy, and then his body tenses. "There it is again. Over there."

  I watch as Lucien twists his shoulders, trying to face the noise. But the only noise I hear is the wind brushing past leaves.

  We've been keeping watch in the Lost Wood for years, and tonight of all nights, Lucien decides to grow jumpy on me.

  I look down at my watch.

  9:37 pm.

  Where is she? She's late.

  Another gust of wind blows past Lucien and I, and I shove my hands into my coat pockets, bracing myself against the cold. I stamp my boots on the ground, in an effort to keep my feet warm.

  Just then, I hear a flock of birds flee from a nearby tree.

  Birds don't do that without provocation.

  "Shhh," I say, turning to Lucien and holding a finger to my lips. "I think you're right. We aren't alone tonight."

  "Now you believe me," he smiles, in a way that says I told you so. He throws the remainder of his cigarette down to the ground and snuffs it out with his boot.

  I watch as a thin wisp of blue smoke curls around his heel.

  Lucien and I step off the trail and crouch behind a boulder. I'll be damned if I let one of Queen Moira's soldiers ambush us.

  Not here. Not on my w
atch.

  Our bodies grow tense as we hear a burst of noise. It's a person running at full speed through the forest.

  But it's not a soldier.

  It's a woman.

  And it's not everyday that you see a beautiful woman in the Lost Wood.

  Twigs are snapping under her feet. Her dress is torn and she's breathing heavy. Her arms are swinging wildly, and there are dry leaves stuck at odd angles in her hair.

  I jump out from behind the boulder and grab her in my arms.

  "Let me go! Let me go!" she screams, pounding my shoulders with her balled fists. She's thrashing and kicking my shins, doing everything in her power to flee from me. Her panic is palpable.

  "It's OK, shhh, shhh," I say. "I'm here to help you. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

  I try to calm her down, but she isn't listening. Fear has overtaken her. She's struggling in my arms and I can't help but watch the way her breasts rise and fall beneath her ragged breathing. She's underdressed for this weather. It looks as if she had to leave in a hurry and couldn't grab a coat.

  Her dress is short and as she struggles in my arms, the fabric hikes up to her hips. My eyes fall on her soft, exposed thighs.

  Clearly, my cock notices this too because I feel it give a quick twitch in my pants.

  "Calm down," I whisper, and now Lucien is standing next to me, trying to soothe her as well.

  "If she keeps this up, every soldier in a 10-mile radius will know where we are," Lucien says.

  "Everything is fine," I say. "We aren't going to hurt you."

  "We've been sent by Prince Gladrell," I continue, and this seems to work. She calms down, and stares at us with eyes that flash the color of a perfect spring sky.

  Prince Gladrell never told us how fucking beautiful Snow is.

 

‹ Prev