by Milana Jacks
“I’m taking a princess for a bride,” he states.
I can’t move. My body freezes. Does he know? How did he figure me out? My glamour still holds. Oh dear, maybe it’s another princess. My heart clenches, and I catch my breath. Even if I’m only his pet, I don’t like competition.
The prince stares ahead and taps the cane on the table. “When my bride comes, what are you going to call her?”
No way. I will not serve another princess. I need my wings right now. “My princess,” I tell him. It stings. I was the fairy princess, and now I’m the household pet. Still, I don’t regret my decision not to marry him. Though it seems he isn’t violent with others, he attacked me.
“My princess could have and do anything she wants.”
“You must be a fine match.”
“The finest.”
I approach the glass and watch the dance floor.
“Do you enjoy people-watching?” he asks.
My gaze sweeps over the dance floor. From my vantage point, it looks different. Bodies are moving slowly. It’s all very sensual, how they dance. I want to dance too. Some vampires are feeding, their greedy hands roaming all over wriggling bodies, and my core ignites as I remember the prince’s expert fingers and his gentle bite on my wrist. “Yes.”
“I used to enjoy it, but now it bores me. Everything bores me.”
I glance over my shoulder. My hand itches to trace the hard edge of his jaw. I fist it. “How can you be bored around here? And if you are bored, you can leave, look for things to do.”
“Everything gets old after a while. I wouldn’t be so bored if I had a princess to keep me company.”
I look away and back at the crowd. “Then you’re lucky. You’ll soon have a bride.”
“Certainly.”
“Poor you.” I can’t help myself. I speak my mind. “You wake up, people tend to you all day, nobody tells you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. You have time for pleasure, for anything you fancy. I once heard of a princess turned servant in her own castle. Try serving in your own castle.”
“How did a princess end up as a servant?”
“She refused to marry a man.”
“Why?” Sevile is fast. Air whooshes, and he’s standing behind me.
My body goes on alert. It’s not fear, it’s want, and his proximity is throwing a match on my fire. “The brute came and bit her at the altar.”
“Was he a vampire?”
“A caveman vampire.”
“If he bit her on his wedding day, he claimed her for a mate. It is called a claiming.”
Never heard of such a thing. “What is claiming?” I tug the hem of my dress.
“A commitment. The poor fellow is walking around mated and can’t have another.”
I furrowed my brow. “That can’t be true.”
“I assure you, it is. A vampire mates only once, and it’s by claiming a mate on his wedding day. Do you know what it means if the bride refuses his claim? It means, dear pet, the end of his line. You see, when a vampire claims a mate, he can’t claim another.” Palms slap the glass above my head, and I notice the rings he wears tonight. The small ring on his pinky next to his big ring mock me. “Think about that for a moment,” he says, voice hard. “As the years pass, the vampire grows more and more bitter at her refusal. But that’s not all,” he whispers at my ear, running his lips down my throat. I shiver and tilt my head. I don’t know what’s happening to me. He must have some sort of allure, a hold on me. Am I responding to his claim? “Then nine years after the claiming, the princess mate walks back into his life. What do you think he should do?” His lips hover over my pulse point. “I smell your sweet pussy as it grows wet. It’s driving me crazy.”
I clear my throat. “She didn’t know about the claiming. Nobody spoke of any claiming.” My forehead sweats, and I fidget, wondering if I can flee.
He grips my shoulders and spins me around, a snarl marring his handsome face. “The prince shouted ‘Mine’ for all to hear!”
Caveman. “Oh, okay. Because that explains everything. Mine, mine, mine. You attacked me!” I duck under his hand and run for the exit.
My sandal slips off.
I trip and face-plant. Epic exit.
I scoot into the corner and pull up my knees. I give him my best glare, because the corner of his mouth lifts. He’s suppressing laughter. Asshole. He picks up my sandal and examines it. The heel is about six inches.
“They make me seem taller, make my legs longer,” I say. As if I need an excuse. Gah.
“Give me the other sandal.” He extends his hand.
“My pleasure.” I slip it off and toss it at his head. He catches it.
Nothing’s working for me tonight. I can’t even hit his stubborn head.
Sevile laughs and puts the sandals on the table. He approaches me and crouches, amusement evident in the tilt of his eyes. “Hello, Princess Maya of the Forest Fairies.” He lifts one finger. “You refused me at the altar.” He lifts a second one. “You’ve infiltrated my lair under false pretenses.” Another finger makes three. “You stole from Orelia, and…” He cocks his head as if thinking. “You’ve attempted to seduce me.”
I roll my eyes. “Technically, those rings are mine, so I’m not stealing. And if you know fairies at all, then you must know we’re a little…mischievous. I did not attempt to seduce you. You…you made me do things.”
He bares his teeth. “When you signed the all-inclusive agreement as my pet, did you think I would serve you instead of the other way around? I think you did. I think deep down inside you lives a spoiled little princess. I don’t believe the servant life broke your spirit. And that’s great news to me, because I want the spoiled little princess.”
I pick at the hem of my dress. “She left the altar right after you. I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve paid my dues.”
“I didn’t ask your court for years of servitude. And as your prince, I will avenge your years in servitude. From now on, the only servitude you will do is to me, and it will not be the same servitude. You’ve tried to deceive me, and now you are caught. What does a good princess say?”
“You took my wings.” Likely, he expects an apology.
Abruptly, Sevile stands and walks back to the chair. He sits down and drops a hand over the armrest. The fingers flex. “Crawl to me.”
I stand and walk. When I get there, I think twice about disobeying him. I’ll never get inside his private lair if I don’t suppress my pride. The wings on my mind, I kneel and sit back on my heels. He makes me feel like a household pet until he clears the table and puts it right in front of him. “Bend over with your hands braced on the top.” He taps the table with his cane.
My eyes widen.
His narrow, red bleeding into the irises.
I scurry to obey and bend over with my bottom turned up.
“I presume you’ve been spanked before, but this will probably go a little differently than you think.” He turns up my dress and caresses my ass cheeks. The warmth of his palm makes me shiver, and my nipples tighten in response. His touch is gentle and measured as he slides off my panties. I step out of them. Sevile dips his fingers between my ass cheeks and finds my back hole again. This time, I don’t protest as his other hand caresses my back, running up and down and occasionally around the front to fondle my breast.
Slap!
I spring upright, and his hand pushes me down. My ass cheek burns, and I reach behind me so I can rub it.
The prince says, “Keep your hands on the table.”
Slap!
“Oh! It hurts.”
“It’s supposed to. Spoiled little princesses should be spanked often, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think that.”
Slap! Sap! Slap!
My bottom vibrates under the hits. He lands four more and then he’s spanking me everywhere. My bottom, thighs, breasts. I practice measured breathing, wiggling, whining. And when his finger pokes my back hole, I spread my legs.
“Ah, there we go. Horny spoiled princess. Are you missing something?”
“Ice?”
Slap! Slap!
“Anything else?”
I don’t answer as heat pools both in my cheeks and my belly. Embarrassed at my arousal, I pinch my lips. His finger taps my virginal entrance. “I told you I want my spoiled princess. The more you misbehave, the more I will spank you.” He takes my jaw in his hand and turns my head, then bends his to place a chaste kiss on my lips. “Even when you misbehave on purpose to get a spanking, I will spank you.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“I don’t want to misbehave.”
“But you will.”
Slap!
“Oh my fairy. When is it over?”
He chuckles. “You will misbehave because that’s what you do. In the short time you’ve been here, I could’ve found at least five more reasons to spank you. And before you say I need a reason, I don’t, because I’m your prince.”
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“What does the good princess say?”
“Yes?”
Sevile is next to me, hand extended. I take it, my bottom burning. I swear it’s swollen. I sniff and turn down my bottom lip. Sevile wraps me in a hug and moves his hips. I keep up with the rocking and realize we’re dancing. The spanking is over, and I release a breath, confused about my arousal. His chest is solid, his scent somehow comforting. Now I’m even more confused.
“Why now?” he asks.
I believe he’s asking me why I’m here. “My wings.”
“Around here, you don’t need them. You don’t need to use a glamour either. I wipe all the humans’ memories before releasing them back into society.”
“How did you know?”
“I can see through glamours.”
I whip my head up. “How?’
“My mother is a demon.”
“I didn’t know demons can see through our glamours.”
“Only certain types of demons.”
“I’m feeling fortunate,” I say as Sevile chuckles and pushes my head so I rest my cheek against his chest again. “Wings aren’t just for glamour,” I continue. “The only time I ever stood up for myself, people who are supposed to love me and care for me didn’t stand by me. Instead, they took everything from me. My mother died when I was four, my dad was overthrown in a coup, and my stepmother reduced me to a servant. The royals in our court helped me for a while, but as time passed, they forgot about me. You say you want the spoiled princess. Well, I want my wings back, or I’ll die.” I mean it. Physical death isn’t the only kind of death. Emotional death is worse, for then you stop caring about anything while your body goes on.
“I don’t dance,” he says, “but I dance with you. I don’t forgive thieves, but I forgive you. There’s only one thing that I wouldn’t do for you. I won’t give you your wings.”
Chapter Five
Maya
Somehow, half my troubles went away. It was as if a boulder was lifted from my back. I knew where I stood with him, and I didn’t have to fear discovery anymore. The prince attended to me after he disciplined me, and when he scooped me up to carry me upstairs, a strange feeling of peace swept over me. Maybe I needed some attention after many years of neglect. On the way up the stairs, I fell asleep and awoke right after dawn with the prince in bed next to me.
I lift the black silk sheet and peek under it. My fairy heart flutters. Any woman’s heart would beat rapidly at the sight of the prince’s firm bottom. He sleeps naked on his stomach, arms and legs sprawled. His broad back is tattooed. I sit on his ass so I can take a better look at the tattoo. Purple-and-yellow wings are tattooed on his back. Not just any wings, a replica of my wings. I don’t know if I should hate him for it or love him for not wanting to forget about me.
Once I peel my gaze away from his wings, I see them. No, not the wings but crowns. A pair of golden crowns with colorful precious stones hanging on the wall. A dim light shines upon them, and the rubies, amethysts, and sapphires reflect back at me. I place a hand over my heart. I stomp over the bed and get up on my toes, then glance at the prince. He’s in a coma-type sleep, right? Light as a feather, I climb the wooden headboard, balancing on the tips of my toes. A little more to the left. I tiptoe to get a full view of the crowns. I’m just gonna try the smaller one on, see what it could’ve looked like on my head. Yes. I’ll only pretend to be a princess again.
I pick up the crown and place it on my head.
Magic ignites in a burst of black smoke. Oh no. Dark fae magic. Reflexively, I grasp for my light fae magic reserves, but I don’t have wings. The black smoke envelops my body. Quickly, I try removing the crown and reach for it when my body freezes, the skin on my face tightens, my neck stiffens, and I watch as sand crawls from my shoulder to my fingers while more sand slides down my stomach to close over my toes.
The sand solidifies into a mass. I turn into stone and topple onto the bed.
Chapter Six
Sevile
At dusk, I force my eyes to stay closed and pretend everything is normal, though I smell an unknown presence in the room. The princess should be here, but instinctively, I know she’s not. Perhaps someone has hurt her and now they’re after me, waiting for me to awaken.
I inhale again and confirm the unpleasant scent.
In one fast move, I snatch my cane, press the red button under the skull, and my blade springs out. I twist and stab the intruder.
“Fuck.” I jump away and land near the door. “How in…” The princess is in my bed. Excellent. The princess is a stone statue. Not excellent. I lift my broken blade. At least I didn’t stab my bride! I pace around the bed, cursing the day I hired that motherfucking dark fae to jinx the crown until Maya’s return. I’d always hoped she would come to me. And she came. What did I do? Turned her into a statue. Nice going, Sevile. Real nice.
I have to reverse the curse. I run a hand through my hair, thinking back to the time I spoke with the dark fae. Ah! I snap my fingers. Light fairy dust removes the curse. Where the fuck do I get fairy dust? I look around our bedroom. Nothing here.
I pick up my phone and check the world time. It’s four in the morning in Barcelona. I dial, and the line opens on the fifth ring. “Dad?” I prompt when nobody speaks.
“Is on permanent vacation,” my father says, then adds, “Away from the court, which he left in care of his capable son.”
I will never live this down. “I know,” I say. “But I have a problem.”
“Me too. I’m playing golf, and the ball keeps breaking.”
“Try holding the club with two fingers. Don’t swing. Only flick it.”
A pause.
“Aha! Brilliant.”
“Thank you, Father. Now I called—”
“Your mother is here. Earleen!”
Shuffling noises come from the other end while I pace the room.
“Sevile,” my mom says with a soothing voice. “Your father can’t golf or play tennis. I’m not sure why he’s into sports. I’m on my eleventh Bloody Mary. They’ve turned me into a good Christian in Spain. What the matter?”
“The fairy princess tried to take the crown, and now she’s a stone.”
“How unfortunate.” A pause. “Did you say fairy princess?”
“Yes.”
“The fairy princess?”
“The only one.” Outside, the wolves howl, and I approach the window. It’s a full moon. Go figure.
“What’s she doing there?” Mom asks.
“Looting.”
“That’s fine, honey. Let her steal, let her do whatever she wants, as long as she gives me pretty purple babies. Gerald!” she shouts. “We’re gonna have grandbabies.”
“Mom. Focus. I need to get her out of this state.”
“No rush, honey, you can put her in the corner of your room and decorate her with jewelry. She’ll like it.” My mother is cracking up. “With the curse, my son, you need angel dust. Sprinkle some on her, and it should be fine.”
/> I haven’t seen an angel in…ever. “Are you serious?”
“Of course not.”
“Mother, I have a situation.”
“I know, I know, but I am a demon, not an angel. This is too good for me to resist. She will awaken when true love’s kiss is bestowed upon her.” My mother is choking on laughter.
“Mother, I’m running out of patience.”
“You can’t run out of something you never had.”
I’m gonna break the phone. I imagine shaking my own mother. I grit my teeth as she continues. “True love’s kiss.”
Click. I hang up.
The phone rings. Here we go again.
“Awww,” she says. “My son, it’s gonna be fine. You know what to do.”
“I need fairy dust.”
“Yes.”
“Do we have any, or should I send an army into the fairy realm?”
“Oooo. Tempting, but no. We have some.”
I stare down at my princess. She’s gray and unmoving, her eyes dead. My chest hurts.
“Where?”
Mother clears her throat. “Her wings are all but dust collected under the skull-shaped cap of your father’s cane. Open the cap, sprinkle dust on her body, and the curse will break.”
“The dust is her wings. She’ll then have them back?”
“Of course she’ll have them. She’s a fairy. I protested your decision to have her wings removed then, and I protest it today. We should’ve kidnapped her, and by now, your father and I would have retired and enjoyed at least a few grandbabies.” She sighs. “Purple ones.”
“I’ll call a witch or a demon. See if something can be done. I won’t give her the wings.”
“Sevile, you cannot keep a fairy prisoner.”
“You said we should’ve kidnapped her.”
“Yes, but complete with wings. I had a tactical plan, but nobody listened. Now it’s too late. You must give them back, or the princess will become a shadow.”
“She can’t turn into a shadow, Mother.”
“Not literally. Figuratively. She will withdraw into herself, hide, avoid people, and become gloomy. A gloomy fairy is sad. A wingless fairy is sad.” My mother sniffs. I know she’s not crying, but the guilt trip is getting to me.