Tyler
I look at the supplies in front of me—a cast iron skillet, aluminum foil, potassium nitrate, and sugar. Four simple ingredients to cause confusion. Four ingredients to potentially save the Princess' life and our lives, and distract Queen Moira—no, not queen...she'll never be my queen—she's just Moira...and anyways, this should keep her soldiers away. These ingredients will create a smoke bomb that'll sting the eyes and blur the air faster than a topsy-turvy carnival ride.
The foil crackles beneath my fingers as I fashion it into a boat. Then I place the cast iron skillet atop an open flame and combine the other ingredients—potassium nitrate and sugar.
The flame burns blue as the heat intensifies and I stir the white concoction, watch it change from a fine, white, mountain to a sticky, brown, puddle.
It starts to smoke at its edges and I turn the flame down. If I'm not careful, I'll burn this and start a smoke bomb right here in the fortress' dining room.
I can just imagine the amount of shit I'd get from all the guys if I let that happen. I'd never hear the end of it.
I stir and stir until the ingredients resemble caramel. If someone didn't know any better, they'd be tempted to eat this.
As soon as it reaches the perfect consistency, I carefully pour the mixture into my foil boat and smile, taking a step back to admire my handy work.
And then it dawns on me. If I add some powdered dye into this before it hardens, I can taint the future smoke with red—a color to signify just how much passion we have with this cause. That'll really send a signal.
I dig around in my supply box when I hear footsteps behind me. I lift my head and turn around, and then I see her.
It's Snow...and fuck, she's hotter than the flame of any blowtorch I've ever held.
Immediately, I extend my hand.
"We've never met, Princess, but I know who you are," I say with a grin. "The whole kingdom knows who you are. You're going to be instrumental in helping us bring democracy back to this country."
She shakes her head.
"No," she says, looking down at her feet. "I'm not a Freedom Fighter. I'm just a scared girl."
By the look on her face, I know she's speaking honestly, but I can't help but feel a sense of desire course through me as she says this. I want to protect her. To touch her. Hold her.
"That's not true," I say, stepping toward her and daring to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're no girl...you're a scared woman, but we can show you the way."
I take her hand lightly in mine and I can feel her tremble under my touch, and the close proximity of our bodies ignites the space between us with electricity that seems to supercharge the air.
"What are you making?" she asks, trying to lighten the growing intensity of the moment.
"Oh this? It's a bomb."
"A bomb-bomb? Like a real bomb?" she asks, suddenly surprised. "You say that so casually."
I laugh. "I didn't know bombs could be fake," I say. "Of course this is real. As real as a rabid raccoon."
"I don't think I've ever seen a bomb up close before."
"Well," I smile, spacing my words with a slow, pregnant silence, "there's a first time...for everything."
She lifts her head and holds my gaze—her eyes are like the blue of a photo-shopped ocean. There's a slight hesitation in the way she looks at me, and I continue.
"This," I say, pointing down to the tinfoil boat and its caramel-colored concoction is going to be stiffer than a steel pipe in about an hour, and when it comes time to throwing a lit match at it, it'll erupt into something spectacular."
She's still holding her eyes to mine, and her hesitant expression has been replaced with the hint of a smile.
Then the tone of my voice changes; it's deep and deliberate.
"That isn't the only thing capable of giving you a spectacular surprise," I say.
The shirt I'm wearing is half unbuttoned, and I run my fingers through my hair as if it's the most casual thing in the known world.
Princess Snow eyes my hard pecs and the hint of my chiseled eight-pack abs, but she doesn't allow her eyes to linger long.
She swallows what seems to be a growing lust in a slow, steady gulp. Watching the way her throat trembles like a butterfly caught in a breeze, imperceptible to anyone not paying attention, makes me want to run my lips from her cheeks to the ridges of her collar bone.
I can feel my cock twitch in my pants.
"Just what kind of spectacular surprise?" Snow asks me with a quiver in her words.
"Why don't we show you…?" I say, and I take another step toward her, closing the distance between our bodies.
My eyes fall down to the tops of her breasts. I watch as they tremble slightly under her increasingly beating heart and it makes me want to take them in my mouth.
"Are you promised to Gladrell?" I ask, knowing full well that her answer will change the course of the evening.
Her eyes blaze bright. "No," she purrs. "I'm an independent woman."
Just then, the other Freedom Fighters—Malcolm, Derek, Richard, Lucien, Nicholas, and William enter the room. She notices them all entering the room from different angles, and takes them in, one by one.
She turns to each of us, and says again, "I'm an independent woman."
It's as if she wants us to understand that Prince Gladrell doesn't own her...that no man owns her.
I move toward her, and cupping her cheeks in my strong hands, I make the first move. The entire room is on edge as they watch me.
I lean down and press my lips to hers. She reciprocates by parting her lips and taking me in.
When I pull back I say, "Show us just how independent you are."