Forced To Kill The Prince

by Hollie Hutchins

  I’m okay, just being here. Watching him. Feeling his affection and warmth.

  I expect to feel some kind of guilt, or regret for what I’ve done. A mini freak out that I’ve made a huge mistake. There’s nothing.

  I have absolutely no regrets whatsoever. My smile stretches into a wicked grin, as my hand dips down to his semi limp dick.

  He mirrors the grin.

  We’re both not moving from here for a while, it seems.

  Chapter Six

  Am I happy, now?

  Yes and no. There’s reasons to be happy and reasons to be sad. I’m close now to fulfilling Loren’s quota. Close to my freedom, and being able to leave the planet and once again make my own way through the galaxy. I can taste that freedom upon my lips. It strengthens me and makes me determined.

  I know that if Loren betrays me now, everything we’ve built up between us will come crashing down as if it were made of glass, not steel. But if he sticks to his deal, then…

  Do I actually want to leave?

  I never even thought about not leaving being a possibility. Something I might want. Or if I leave, perhaps I’d want to come back. Perhaps I’d want to see if I can do some piloting for Loren, or something smaller and personal. Since I won’t have the original crew. Their contracts are longer than mine.

  As for Loren and I, we’ve had a lot of sex over the months, not always when I’m ovulating. He seems to be addicted to human virility, to our enthusiasm to sex. To our willingness to experiment. Not that I can blame him. Humans have been very imaginative in the ways we entertain ourselves over sex. And we’ve been practising for thousands of years at this point.

  There’s been many a time when I’ve woken up and seen him staring at me with unadulterated joy and contentment, just basking in my presence. Nothing else.

  It’s embarrassed me, to see that much emotion contained in someone else’s face. Like he’s truly grateful I’ve let him into my arms. That I smile at him, and share conversation with him, and enjoy the moments we have together. He always addresses me by name now as well, never the humiliating livestock, which is their derogatory term for sentient aliens.

  I’m glad of that.

  When I was allowed to contact my father, I lied and told the truth at the same time. I didn’t say I had been abducted and am being used for obscure breeding purposes. I told him everything was fine, I was enjoying myself, just visiting the sights of new planets and getting to know the locals. He told me how his sheep farm is getting popular, because he’s managed to breed a type of sheep that has soft, rich wool. It’s like “Holding clouds in your hands,” as he describes it. He’s enthusiastic about his sheep, and I have to smile, because my dad is this sort of person. Always excited about the next project. Always doing one thing or another to see where it goes.

  Next year I bet, he’ll have a full-grown farm and about a thousand fluffy sheep, trying to get them patented as cloud sheep or something. Perhaps one of the first things I’ll do when I leave this planet is visit him.

  When Loren comes home, I greet him with a hug and a smile, and a little kiss to the cheek. He holds me there for a moment, burying his face into my light brown hair, as if unwilling to move ever again. It’s comforting, and we stay like that until he breaks off.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he says then. Although the words come light, his voice cracks slightly. “I keep thinking I want to find ways to delay you know, the last child. But I also know that’s unfair.”

  I think about the urtok children forming in the machine in the basement. They don’t look human at all at the stages I’ve seen them in, which makes it easier to detach myself from the fact they have my DNA in them.

  I don’t think where they’re going is a bad place. I’ve seen some of the urtok nursery where the newborns and children go, and they’re efficient, orderly, and well-rounded for when it comes to care and education for the young. Although a part of me rejects it on principle, I can see the merits it has for the urtok.

  Despite their visages and their abduction culture, which obviously will always be a hard-selling point, pun intended – they’re one of the better cultures I’ve seen.

  I reflect on Loren’s words. He’s honest, which I like. He wants me to stay, he has random impulses and urges to implement it, so he warns me, without acting them out.

  I reach for his hand and give him a grateful smile. “I’m thinking you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.”

  For a moment, his amber eyes just blink. Not quite sure what I’m getting at. Those thick lips curl in puzzlement. “Oh?”

  I can see he’s trying to not dare himself to hope. It’s actually sad in a way, to know this is how he feels. That he really does like me. Love me, even.

  I know I like him as well. I don’t know if it’s love. I can’t even say that I love my father and brother, because I’m not sure what it is. It’s not a quickening of the heart, or that woozy sensation in your stomach. It’s not the joy of being intimate with someone, and feeling them close to you, inside you. It’s not the endorphin flooded aftermath, or someone being kind to you.

  Maybe it’s being more important than other people to someone. Maybe it’s the way their eyes glimmer when they see you – and the excitement in your heart when you know they’ve come home. And the anger when they do something that upsets you, because you don’t want to be upset by that person.

  I don’t know for certain. But I do know I don’t want to leave Loren, or lose what type of life he’s offered me.

  He’s already removed the nanochip in me. He didn’t say anything about it, but he disabled it, because I was able to ride on a hoverbus all the way to the next city, and then back. I tested it by accident and didn’t get my muscles locking up as usual.

  So, really, I’ve been free to go for the past two weeks.

  And I haven’t.

  “I think I like being here,” I tell him. “Not as a prisoner, or a slave. But as a person who means something to you.”

  Those glorious lips of his spread in a wider smile. “You do mean something to me, Teena.”

  “I know. And if I’m honest, now that I’m free to go,” I raise an eyebrow slyly as comprehension dawns upon his face, “and yes, I knew I could leave about two weeks back. I’m free to go, but I don’t want to. Don’t get me wrong,” I say, lifting a finger as his eyes widen. “I intend to go and see my father again, and get back into piloting. But I also want things here to be more… official with us. Like if I fly over your planet I’m not going to get some EMP snare and sold off again. I want to belong to you.”

  Loren chuckles, and holds my hands in his. Not wanting to do anything else but flash that radiant smile. “I’m sure we can arrange something.” He kisses me upon the lips now, unable to hold himself back.

  I kiss him in response. I feel the joy in his heart, and it stirs the life in mine.

  Yes. This could work out very nicely indeed.

  I think of that old saying that circulated around the town I grew up in.

  If you love something, let it go. If it returns to you, it is yours.

  If it doesn’t, it never was.

  Loren has let me go. And I plan to return.

  So I suppose he really does own me, in a way. But that ownership goes both ways. He might own me, but I own his heart.

  He has a little of mine, too.

  And that’s okay.

  A Wolf Took My Virginity

  ~ Bonus Story ~

  A Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Romance

  I went home with a werewolf. It was part of the deal. I needed to be able to sleep without getting caught unaware. He had such a place. I made him promise he wouldn't eat my face off. I only half believed him.

  I didn't recognize him the next day, bare chested and bathed in sunshine. If it weren't for the color of his eyes, the exact same ice blue of the wolf’s, I wouldn't have believed it. His name, he told me over breakfast, was Brandon. I looked at him, really looked, and realized something. This man
had been hunting me. He'd known about me, about the life I'd scraped together out of nothing. Worse, he admired me for it. He saw me, the me that I let no one dare to look at under my clothing and couture sneer.

  He saw the twenty year old virgin who kept everyone at bay. He knew that little girl with the black ringlets was still somewhere in there.I panicked, much more than I did when I realized he was an actual wolf. I got up and fled, telling him I'd kill him if he came looking for me.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Soft leather, gold embellishments, with an interior lining of the softest silk I’ve ever laid my hands on. Closing my eyes, the sensational scent of money wafts through the air. The need to have this particular bag is greater than any urge I’ve felt before, or at least within the last 48 hours.

  “So is this the one you were looking for?” a saleswoman asks with a helpful grin across her face.

  That’s the difference between me on the outside, versus me on the inside. I don’t look like I’m here to take anything, but that’s precisely why I walk inside the boutique. And because my designer duds refuse to give me away, I continue to do as my urges steer me. I return her smile, allowing my charismatic energy to seep through every word, “Actually it is. I just love this bag. Only … my girlfriend has the same exact one in red.”

  “I’m sorry,” the woman giggles, “That bag doesn’t come in red.”

  “So are you telling me that my darling friend, Cheyenne King, is wearing a knockoff?” I beam with personality and not an ounce of nervousness, “Oh please tell me that’s true because I’ll buy this bag right now just to shut her smug ass up.”

  The saleswoman giggles again. There’s a natural cattiness among them, a level of petty behavior that they admire and quite naturally dulls their senses.

  “Well, it’s possible she had it custom made but we haven’t filled any of our Special Orders recently and this is the only boutique in the city,” she raises an eyebrow with an air of mockery.

  “Great, I’ll take it,” I tell her, handing her the bag. Opening my clutch, I make sure the woman sees me thumbing through a few hundred dollar bills. Looking up to her, I make a request, “Would you mind getting me one that hasn’t been touched and fawned on by every customer who’s walked through the store?”

  “Oh yes of course, just wait right here, and I’ll bring it out to you,” the petite woman trots off to the back room. It’s exactly where I want her to be. For the bag isn’t what I truly have my eyes on, it’s the watch of another customer by the counter. I followed her in here off the street, and while the coat she’s trying on is beautiful, the twinkle of her diamonds in the bezel of her watch is what catches my eye, luring me in after her.

  I move around them swiftly, subtly making polite conversation with the other saleswoman and my mark. My bag comes out and we all share a good laugh at my imaginary friend, who’s wearing a knockoff that never existed. $3500 dollars later, I leave the boutique with a brand new bag and a $20,000 dollar consolation prize.

  Stealing comes naturally to me, and while it isn’t necessary for my day to day survival, it’s just a rush that I’m not willing to give up. Perhaps it would get me into trouble one day, but after my twenty years of life, most of which spent on the street, it hasn’t failed me yet. Besides this watch looks spectacular with the dress I plan to wear tonight.

  Tonight is like any other Friday night. I’m going to hit the club, mingle with other money lovers and let my hair down while showing off my brand new merchandise.

  It is impossible not to love this piece with its matte black face, diamond bezel, and platinum band. It’s the perfect accessory to the little black dress I want to wear tonight. It fits me perfectly, every inch of its black satin clinging to my silhouette is sure to turn heads.

  Turning heads is an understatement as the click clack of my heels waltz by the entire line of people waiting to get inside. The music is blaring so loud you can feel the bass as you walk by. Charlie, the bouncer, sits on a stool outside keeping the crowd at bay, but his face lights up when he sees me strutting toward him.

  “How is it in there?” I ask him, fishing my I.D. out of my bag.

  “Classy now that you’re here, Bentley. Have a good time sweet heart,” he winks, waving me in barely glancing at my license.

  I see a few familiar faces, but only one noticeable stands out. I try to put her ‘Trying too Hard’ glare and dance moves out of my mind as I saunter through the crowd looking for my friends. Friends is actually a very loose term. They’re more like … people with similar interests.

  “Oh Bentley! I can’t believe you made it! You look amazing!” her squeal is as loud as her bright orange top and platinum blonde hair, but being the daughter of a music mogul allows her to be exactly who she wants.

  “Hey Charlotte,” I force a smile. She’s not apart of my crowd, but she’s not one to blow off either. “You look very orange!”

  She cackles and tosses her hair over her shoulder. There are a group of men around her, undoubtedly waiting to serve her Coke or cock, either way they weren't taking their eyes off of her. Perks of being a multi millionairess.

  Another familiar face catches my eye. A scumbag of a dealer working his way through the crowd. I want to say his name is Jimmy or Smitty, but I just didn’t care. He’s one of those types of guys that give drug dealers a bad name. He’d sell crack to a baby if the baby had a twenty. So when I see him flirting and making his way over to ‘Trying Too Hard’ … I can sense trouble.

  Charlie must have stepped away from the door in order for her to get in. Her boyish figure with a heavy application of makeup can’t hide the immaturity oozing from her pores. She reeks of innocence and naivete.

  I’m no hero, but I’m not one to let little guys get pushed around either. So I start making my way through the sea of people, fighting off groping hands and fingers trying to see if the girl needs help.

  “I’ve never seen you in here before,” I hear him say to her.

  She’s nervous, wringing her hands as she bops from side to side in heels that she’s probably never worn. Her voice is light, barely audible over the music, “I just wanted a night out with my girls, you know?”

  “Girls? You lookin kinda lonely over. I got something that might help you loosen up. You want to party with me?” he asks her with a soft stroke of his thumb to her bare arm. The gesture makes my own skin crawl, I can only imagine what she must be thinking.

  “No thanks I’m still waiting for my friend to get here,” she tells him with wide eyes and a smile.

  “Well here,” he pulls out a small bag, with the familiar powder inside, “Try this with your friend. It’s free and if you guys want more, come and find me.”

  Before she can even turn it down, I weasel my way in between them, “She’s not interested. Hey, you ready to go?”

  The girl’s expression of dumb shock let’s me know she’s oblivious to the fact I’m saving her. Even if she is into drugs, buying them from this asshole guarantees you a night in the morgue or the ER.

  “Easy, sexy, your friend and I were just getting acquainted,” he tells me leaning in toward the back of my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck but I can also feel his hand reaching around me. A quick glance shows him still trying to hand the clearly underage girl the dime bag.

  My moves are always quick, exact, and paralyzing. Elbowing him in the diaphragm renders him breathless. A swift turn and palm thrust into his jaw, stuns the brain as he scrunches his face in pain. The only thing he can do is fall back onto the floor. Without hesitation, I clean him out. Drugs, money, another watch for me, and even the small bottle of liquor he’s holding in his jacket pocket.

  Standing over him, the girl eyes me with fear dripping down her face, “I’m not the one you need to be scared of, honey. Now what are you doing in a place like this?”

  Not a thank you or anything! She takes off into the crowd. I follow her until we’re both standing outside next to the entrance. I can�
�t believe this kid, and that’s exactly what she looks like in the street light, “How old are you?”

  “Old enough,” she gripes with an attitude.

  I take a swig of the liquor, polishing off the bottle, “Not old enough to be in here. Do you know who that guy is? Don’t you have any idea how much shit you can get into taking that crap he passes off as drugs?”

  “I can take care of myself!” she pushes away from me.

  “Well here, at least take this stuff. I’m sure you can pawn it for something useful,” I offer her.

  “Whatever, I got everything I need,” she tells me before kicking off her heels and hauling ass down the street.

  Looking down at her shoes, and the stuff in my hand, I can get a good amount for all of it. The drugs will be the hardest to get rid of, since that’s not my thing. I try to stay out of that arena, but something tells me I put myself in it as soon as I dropped Jimmy in there.

  I’m not sure if I want to go back inside, or start working on getting rid of this junk. The cocaine is my biggest worry. The last thing I need is for a cop to get inquisitive. The night is still young … that’s when I see it. That little street urchin stole my watch!

  “SON OF A BITCH!”

  Chapter 2

  After helping the little rugrat avoid a night in the hospital, I actually let her ruin my night. I can’t possibly have a good time knowing some teenage brat got the best of me. It makes me imagine what Jimmy must be feeling like.

  A week or two passes without my urge to steal surfacing. Maybe the brat is a sign, or perhaps taking the stash off the dickhead drug dealer is enough to hold me over, but either way, I’m not in the mood. I decide to keep a low profile until I’m ready to rejoin the functioning world once again.

  The TV plays in the background of my bedroom while I flick through the dresses hanging in my closet. Perhaps one will give me the push I need to set foot outside my door. There’s a rustling near of my window which shouldn’t be so odd, but I live in a high rise building on the fourteenth floor. Shadows shouldn’t even be moving this high, and especially not at this time of night.