Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Oops, sorry about that, Ali,” Mike murmurs as he whisks my orange juice away to safety. “But you’ve been going about this the wrong way. There’s no point in looking for the prince because he can’t be found. When he wants to find you, you’ll know,” he shrugs.
“What? The prince is here?” I manage in a slurred tone. Then, the world darkens and fades away altogether.
CHAPTER 5
Ali
My head rolls on my neck, feeling as if it weighs two tons. My eyes have sand in them, and I try to clear my throat except it’s parched and I can’t summon any saliva.
“Get her some water,” a low voice growls.
A cup of some sort is pressed to my lips and I gulp gratefully, letting the cool liquid seep down my throat. After a minute or two of this, my eyes adjust to the dim lighting and I look up to see two huge men staring at me.
They’re not ugly, actually. They’re dark and enormous, and through the shadows I can see that they have harsh features, strong jaws, and broad, muscular chests. Even crazier, they’re dressed like Greek athletes with only a loincloth covering their privates, revealing thick thighs and strong legs.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
One of the men smiles in a sinister fashion.
“I’m Mizhir, and this is Rizza,” he says, gesturing to his buddy. “I see you appreciate our country’s national dress.”
I stare at him.
“What do you mean?”
The other tall man chuckles.
“Our loincloths,” he growls. “You’ve been staring at them like you can’t wait to see what’s underneath.”
That’s when I blush and snap my eyes away because it’s true. In my compromised state, I wasn’t controlling my reactions. As a result, he’s right: I was staring at the huge bulges beneath the tiny pieces of cloth.
But where am I? My shoulders ache, and I realize that my wrists are manacled above my head. Not straight above, but in a V-shape, like I’m doing a sun salutation. I crane my chin up to look around, and that’s when I realize I’m in a dungeon of sorts. Well, at least that’s what it appears to be at first glance. It’s dark, with featureless walls, and totally devoid of furniture save for the wooden beams my manacles are attached to.
“What’s going on?” I manage in a hoarse voice. “Why am I here?”
Mizhir (or is it Rizza?) shrugs.
“You’ve been asking questions about us, so our prince asked us to make you available.”
Immediately, my mind shoots into overdrive.
“Wait, a prince?” I ask.
The two men share a look and nod.
“Yes, the prince. You’ve been asking about him, remember?”
I blink, my thoughts still a bit muddled.
“Yes, but I was just talking with Mike the bartender … wait a minute. He works for you, doesn’t he?”
The men share another look, amusement on their harsh features.
“You mean Mikael? That guy? He’s such a dumbfuck. He uses poisons and tinctures and who knows what else,” Rizza snorts. “That loser needs to get to the gym because using a witch’s brew is so fucking dishonorable. Anything short of combat is a woman’s work.”
I stare at the two huge, hulking men. My brain is going crazy but I’m not sure what to think because was I poisoned by Mike? It makes sense, seeing that he slipped me an orange juice without being asked.
“So Mike or Mikael or whoever he is poisoned me,” I say in a slow voice. “And now you’ve taken me to this godforsaken place and chained me up.”
The two men shrug.
“It’s what our prince wants. We don’t like little girls who ask too many questions.”
I bite my lip, suddenly aware of my nudity before these two men. My curves are a bit cold at the moment, but they gleam ivory in the low lights, lush and tempting.
“So there is a prince,” I say in a low voice. “A real prince, from a real country.”
The men nod.
“Yes ma’am. There’s no royalty here in America, but they still exist in Europe.”
I stare at them again.
“So is he going to question me? Beat me up? Or what happens next? I don’t understand why I’m here to begin with.”
Rizza shrugs, his dark eyes gleaming in the low lights.
“That’s up to our liege lord. It’s not for us to say.”
Suddenly, there’s a rustling sound from the shadows and I crane my head to look. A gasp escapes my lips because actually, a man’s been sitting there all along and I didn’t know. Somehow, he was so still and silent that he escaped my notice.
But as my eyes peer into the shadows, the oxygen is sucked my lungs because this must be the prince himself. There’s no question. The man is tall, even while sitting, with black hair, patrician features, and eyes so blue they almost glow in the darkness. But it’s more than his physical stature that gives the impression of royalty. Instead, there’s an aura that surrounds the man speaking of power, charisma, and the expectation of total fealty. He crosses one long leg over the other and then relaxes into his chair while gazing at me.