“I…um beg your pardon?”
He stands a little straighter. His posture flowing from at ease to something regal and imposing.
“I, Prince Mabon Y Mabonogi, claim Blake Robinson as my pet.”
His voice rings out clear and commanding. His words bounce around my mind and don’t find any purchase. They slip and slide and drift away without meaning anything at all.
Two guards step forward and stand one on each side of me. They each grab a bicep in a grip like steel. There is no way I’m getting free. No way in hell. Besides, they have flipping swords. And magic.
Prince Mabon smiles again. A dazzling smile. His dark eyelashes flutter with very naughty promise. Then he turns on his heels and heads towards the palace, flowing through the railings as if they are merely a mirage.
The guards holding me step after him, dragging me with them. We also pass through the railings. I shudder. Then a far more pressing thought takes over.
Oh shit. His words are sinking in.
He is Prince Mabon.
And he has claimed me as his pet.
Oh fuck.
Chapter two
I’m inside Buckingham Palace. I can’t believe it. I’ve lived in London all my life, but like most of the locals, I’ve never done the tourist things. I save that for when I’m away on holiday. So I never thought I’d be here. Even when it belonged to humans. Once it was taken over by fey, I never, ever thought I’d be stepping a foot in this place.
Except maybe as a victory celebration, when we finally oust the invading assholes. Seems I’m a little premature.
The guards drag me along at a breakneck speed. Which is fine. I’m not exactly in the mood to admire the decor. Though I’m not entirely sure I want to get to wherever we are going.
Torture chamber? Dungeon? A kitchen where they will steam me alive like a lobster? Wherever they are taking me, it’s not going to be good.
We burst through some double doors and stop. I look around me and blink. It’s a bathroom. An extremely fancy one, but still a bathroom. The tiles are all a pale blue and instead of a tub, there is basically a small swimming pool. Sunken into the ground.
Not what I was expecting at all. I thought they were going to do terrible things to me. Not let me wash.
The guards release my arms, but before I’ve had a chance to adjust to the change of my circumstances, they start stripping my clothes off.
I yelp but offer no other resistance. It’s December in England. I have a fair few layers on. But I wish they’d go back to holding my biceps in a death grip.
They find my phone and give it a cursory glance. My heart thumps, but they simply chuck it onto my growing pile of clothes. Still, I’m flipping glad I’m paranoid enough to not keep anything on my phone. Just because they don’t seem interested in it, doesn’t mean they are not going to dissect it later.
Oh crap. I’m down to my tighty whities. I cast my captor, the prince, a beseeching glance, but he is drinking in the sight of my body with rapt glee. He gestures at the guards to continue, and now I’m completely naked. My hands cover my junk and nobody bats them away. Thank heavens.
I’m confident about my body. Lord knows I spend enough time at the gym. In theory, I should be fine with being starkers in front of a bunch of guys. I’ve certainly never felt shy or uncomfortable in a locker room. But I’ve never been so openly objectified before. Mabon’s expression is unmistakable. As is the way he is rubbing his hands together.
My mind is reeling. I’m all over the place. I’m not exactly sure how I’m feeling about this. Surely I should be one hundred per cent outraged and furious? So what is this dark and coiling satisfaction and pride? Mabon’s attention should not be flattering.
“Get in,” he orders.
My gaze flicks to the inviting water. In there, he won’t be able to ogle me. But he will see my ass when I turn. Oh well, that’s a fair enough trade off.
Awkwardly, I turn, ignore Mabon’s happy little gasp, and shuffle over to the edge of the enormous bath. There are shallow steps down into the faintly steaming water.
I walk into the water and nearly sigh in relief. The heat is divine and being out of view is incredible.
I find a seat carved into the wall and settle into it, facing the fey prince. The guards are gone. I didn’t hear them leave. I’m all alone with my captor, who is easily half my weight.
I lick my lips and run my gaze over him. Assessing. He is slender and graceful. But he is also fey. Who knows what strength his feminine frame hides? Besides, he is fey, he has magic. He can probably turn me into a frog or something.
