ANYA
I wake to the warmth of a man's arms wrapped around me and a new soreness between my legs. Everything's new, to be honest. I've never slept in a man's bed before, and I can't remember the last time I didn't wake up shivering and wishing I had even just one blanket to cover me instead of the thin sheet I was usually assigned.
Nothing feels real right now. But it is real. I'm no longer in the warehouse surrounded by other displaced people. I'm in an expansive room with central heating, on a bed so comfortable that it feels like I slept on a cloud, and with a man who loves me by my side.
A man who loves me... I gaze up at Fynn, thinking about how peaceful he looks. His hair has fallen across his face, and it takes everything in me to resist the urge to brush it away so that I can see more of him. His hard cock is pressed against my stomach. I smirk at the phenomenon of morning wood, hoping he'll want to put it to good use when he wakes up.
Lying here with him like this, it's hard to believe he's a prince. We're naked, man and woman. Enemies in the same bed. Stripped of everything that makes him royalty and me a civilian. He's just a man, I think to myself.
I still can't believe everything that transpired last night. My life went from spending every day in repetition just trying to get by to being fast forwarded with drama overdrive. Yesterday morning, I never would have been able to imagine things turning out as they have now. I'm in the bed of a prince, and he wants to marry me and have children together.
The thought makes me smile. It should terrify me, but I find myself wanting all of it to be true. Fynn is wonderful. I've never felt more wanted or cared for than I do when I'm with him. I only hope that I can live up to his expectations as a wife and a mother...if that will truly be our fate. I know that there's a long road of opposition ahead. The royal family is not going to accept me. I'll likely have to eat a lot of dirt to keep this all together. But I feel like it's worth it if what I've seen of Fynn so far is what I'll have to look forward to in the future.
As if knowing that I'm thinking of him, Fynn groans to life. Instead of stretching, he pulls me tighter, practically crushing me against his chest in an embrace that makes me giggle.
“Good morning, stranger,” I tell him when he opens his eyes.
“Good morning, princess.” He smiles at me.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.” He lets go of me to stretch and yawn, but he quickly pulls me against him again as soon as he's done, gently stroking my shoulder with the back of his thumb. “Does it feel weird me calling you princess?” He glances at me.
“I hadn't really thought about it before, to be honest. Though now that you mention it, it does seem like an odd term of endearment coming from a real prince.”
“Well, that's what you'll be once we're married. My princess. A princess,” he informs me.
I marinate on that for a while, stunned into silence. Me, a princess? That seems almost laughable. I know it would just be an honorific out of respect and I'd hold no claim to the royal throne, but still.
A smile crosses my lips, not because I've suddenly managed to ascend to royalty, but because my plan last night backfired. Fynn had me, and he still wants me. Not only that, but my feelings for him have grown by leaps and bounds in just this short time that we've been together. I don't like imagining being parted from him.
He kisses me on the shoulder. “Do thoughts of all of the pretty dresses you're going to get to wear make you happy?”
I snort. “Not hardly.” Clothes have never been particularly important to me. I bought the vast majority of my wardrobe before the war from thrift stores and dollar stores, more concerned with fit than style. “I'm happy because I'm with you.” I rub the top of his fingers.
“I'm glad.” He leans over me for a chaste kiss before sitting up. “But unfortunately, I can't stay in bed with you all day. I have work to attend to. Even a prince has a job.” He smirks at me over his shoulder, and I frown from the loss of him.
“It's hard work being a tyrant.” I inch over to curl around him.
“A tyrant?” His eyes widen with surprise, but there's no real offense in his expression.
“That's what you are.” I pout. “Enemy. Invader.”
“Yeah.” He brushes a few loose strands of hair away from my face. “I invaded between your legs last night.”
My cheeks burn from his crude words, but my clit pulses in remembrance. Over his thigh, I can see his cock still pointing up toward the ceiling. My body hungers for more of him.
I reach to stroke his cock, my hand circling his thick shaft, and he lets out a hiss. For a moment, he seems to surrender, but then he opens his eyes and gently brushes my hand away.
“Not right now. I already slept in longer than I should have,” he tells me. I whimper needily, giving him begging eyes. He chuckles. “Don't look at me like that. You know I would stay if I could.” Fynn stands and gazes down at me. “I need to take a shower.”
“Then I'll join you.” I throw my legs over the side of the bed, feeling sticky from our coupling last night. More than that, though, I just want an excuse to put my hands on his body.
“Alright, but you've got to behave.” He gives me a warning look.
Moments later, we're under the hot water, our hands all over each other, our mouths moving in time as we kiss. It's nice to know I can make him cave like this. There's a disciplined side to him, the part that made sure we were both lathered up with soap before he let his hard cock take control of him. But now he's giving in to lust—giving in to me.
I love the way my hands glide over his skin effortlessly thanks to the soapy water. This is way sexier than I ever thought it could be, and I'm eating up every moment of it. The walk-in shower is big enough so that we can both move around easily, and there are three shower heads angled down at us, so neither of us has to be cold.
Fynn turns me around and pushes me up against the wall. I seductively look back at him, my pussy clenching as his hands slide between my legs from both sides, squeezing my ass while he rubs my clit. I can feel his cock resting against my ass cheek. I angle my hips so that it slips between them, and I move slowly, rocking up and down to give it a little attention.
“You're not going to let me leave without fucking you first, are you?” he asks, his eyes dark with need.
“Not a chance.” I grin, pushing back against him even harder.
“Aren't you sore from last night?”
I turn around and grab his cock, giving it a few quick strokes. The answer is yes, but my desire for him trumps any pain I might feel from him spreading me again.
“I thought we needed to work on getting me pregnant.” I drop to my knees, licking up his length.
His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he bites his bottom lip. He looks so sexy with the water trickling down over his chiseled abs that I can barely stand it. The flavor of his skin has been washed clean with the soapy water. Now, he tastes like nothing at all. I think I prefer his saltiness.
Fynn fists his hand in my hair, gently pulling me up to my feet. That warning look is there again, but it's marred with desire. “If you want me to breed you, then you need to save all my come for that pretty pink pussy of yours.”
Once I'm back on my feet, he turns me around and presses me to the wall again. I arch my back, ready for him, but he has other things in mind. He kisses a trail down my spine, slowly descending until he's crouched behind me. He then kisses my ass cheeks, burying his face between them. I blush from how close to my asshole he is. It feels dirty, even though I know I'm clean down there. He made sure of that when he bathed me earlier.
I squeal as his lips touch my pucker, his tongue burrowing into it for half a second before he moves lower, covering my pussy with his mouth. He licks me from cunt to asshole several times, gazing up at me with the most seductive look I've ever seen. I moan unabashedly, resting my face against the cold tile wall. His grip on me is firm, controlling, with one hand on the small of my back and the other wrapped around my thigh. He holds me in place while he pleasures me.
I pant against the wall, my breath steaming on the tile. It's as if I can see my climax building with each exhale. Fynn's tongue works feverishly between my legs, lapping at my clit before plunging into my cunt. I wonder if I have more of a flavor than he did, but the thought is stolen from me when he slips two fingers between my legs and massages my clit. My mind goes blank from the intense orgasm. All I can do is hold on for dear life while he pleasures me to completion.
“That's my good girl,” he whispers against my ass. “Come for me.”
Hearing him call me his good girl makes my stomach swirl with heightened enjoyment. It sounds like something you would say to a dog, so I'm not sure why I like it so much. Maybe because I know that I'm pleasing him. Whatever the case, I decide to soak in the words and drown in the afterglow of my orgasm.
“And now is your reward for being my good girl.”
I expect him to enter me from behind, but instead, he flips me around. My back hits the wall with so much force that air leaves my lungs. The carnal look in Fynn's eyes makes me weak in the knees. Weaker than an orgasm ever could. He has the look of a man who will not be denied, not that I would ever dream of denying him.
I feel like putty in his hands as he hikes my leg up and surges forward. He grabs his cock with his other hand, pressing it between my pussy lips. My back arches when he fills me. The height difference makes him feel too deep. He wraps his arms around me, drawing me to him. One falls to my ass to hold me in place while he begins thrusting at a rapid pace.
This is nothing like last night. There's more need than gentility to Fynn's actions. He's fucking me with unbridled passion, and I'm loving every minute of it.
I hook my arms around his neck to keep stabilized because I feel like at any moment my grounded foot might slip from the floor.
Fynn bends to suck on one of my nipples while he fucks me, and I cry out, tossing my head back and savoring all of the combined sensations. The hot water pouring over my skin. Fynn's fingers digging into my ass. His cock buried so deep within me that I can feel every amazing inch of him. His mouth teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves in my nipple. It's all so much that I can already feel my clit pulsing and my cunt ready to squeeze around him from another climax.
“Oh, Fynn,” I'm barely able to finish saying his name before my body gives way again.
He kisses me while I climax, his fingers tugging and tweaking one of my nipples while he continues to pound into me. Every time our lips part, I hear him groan—music to my ears. I can't wait to feel him come, that intoxicating swelling of his dick as his balls shoot their baby batter into me.
“Are you ready for me to fill your little cunt?” he asks as if reading my mind.
“Mhm.” I nod quickly.
He pulls my leg up even higher, forcing it over his shoulder. I can't help but giggle, surprised I'm even able to bend this way. The muscles in my thigh ache from nearly doing a standing split, but if this is what he wants, I'll endure it.
I'm all smiles until he pushes into me again. The position makes my body feel compressed. It's as if he's forcing his way through my inner flesh. The fullness of it causes my eyes to roll to the back of my head.
Fynn rests his forehead against mine as he pounds into me. I focus on that spot between my legs where our parts collide. The heat there is immense. I wonder if he feels it, too.
He stops supporting my body and clutches onto my face. I cling to him like I fear I might fall. There's no chance of that, though. My upper back is pressed against the wall. My ankle is hooked over his shoulder. And if my other foot happened to give way, I have no doubt Fynn would catch me.
I whimper and moan, trying to hold on as the pressure about drives me insane.
“Your greedy little snatch is going to take all of my seed,” Fynn hisses into my ear before he pushes up into me a final time.
I feel my supporting foot leave the floor, only the big toe keeping me in place as Fynn lifts me while his hot come sprays inside of me. It's like he's pushing straight up into my womb, demanding its subservience. My cunt squeezes around him, pulsing and milking him. I'm so full of his cock and his seed that I can barely breathe.
I open my eyes and let out a shuttering sigh as I watch him climax. His eyes are closed. His lips are slightly parted as he pants for breath. His muscles are rigid as my hands slip to his shoulders. He's 100% hard, like a statue frozen in place, the only part of him moving is his cock as it surges with its juices.
Finally, his entire body exhales and relaxes all at once. He doesn't pull out of me, though.
“That was intense,” I tell him, sliding my leg down over his shoulder because I don't think I can physically handle maintaining the position anymore.
His cock slips from between my thighs, and I feel a wave of heat follow it out, his seed no longer held in place.
“We should have done this on the bed,” he tells me, though he doesn't seem truly disappointed.
“Tonight.” I stand on tiptoe to kiss him.
“Tonight.” He smiles, holding me in his arms. “And every night thereafter.”
“Until there's a baby in my belly?” I look up at him questioningly.
“Even after that.” He rubs his nose against mine.
I swoon at how affectionate he is. Definitely the man of my dreams.
Despite probably being late to meet with his men, Fynn takes his time toweling me off when we finally leave the warmth of the shower. He then wraps me up in a towel and his arms, and we teeter awkwardly together into the vanity area, which makes me giggle.
“You're too silly,” I tell him before he finally lets me go.
“A man can't be serious all the time.” He smirks at me.
There's a slightly uncomfortable disconnect between us as he leaves me to start getting dressed. I feel lost, unsure of what I'm supposed to do while he's away.
“What's my assignment while you're gone?” I ask as he pulls on a pair of boxers. Every inch of him that he covers with clothing makes me less happy, not just because I like seeing him naked, but because it's a reminder of who we really are.
“Stay here, primarily.” He slips into a pair of navy blue slacks and buttons them up. It's his military uniform slowly coming together. I hate seeing him in it. “You can explore or do whatever you want. Just don't leave the estate. It won't be safe for you out there.”
I make my way to the bed and sit on it naked, hoping to entice him back into my arms. As if knowing my plan, he makes a conscious effort not to look at me.
“Are you going to handle the sweep of...” I can't recall what he called it, “where my camp is today?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “That's Daniel's thing. I already made it clear to him that I want no part of it.”
I frown, wondering if my people were smart enough to move. Surely, when they found out that Fynn himself had come to warn them, they knew it was serious.
“I hope everyone is safely gone by the time he sweeps through.” I hug myself.
Fynn pauses midway through buttoning his shirt to look at me. “You really care about those people, don't you?”
“Not really.” I shrug. “They were just people I was staying with. I wasn't particularly close to any of them.”
“Not even that little bald fuck that was covering the door.” His jaw visibly clenches.
It takes me a moment to realize he's talking about Jak.
“What would ever give you that idea?” I give him a queer look.
Fynn's shoulders relax. “Thank God. That guy said you were his woman. I thought I was going to have to kill him.”
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose. “Not a chance in hell. That guy used to perv on me when I was in the shower.”
Anger returns to Fynn's expression. “Then he's dead.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Any man who looks at what is mine inappropriately is dead.” He finishes buttoning his shirt with agitated motions and then stomps into the closet to find his shoes.
“What is mine,” I mock him playfully.
“You are mine,” he tells me in all seriousness.
“Fynn.” I lean over the bed to try to see where he's standing in the closet. It doesn't work. “You can't kill a guy just because he looks at me wrong. Besides, Jak never made a move on me. He was just...feeding his perverted delusional fantasies.” The mental image of that creeper pleasuring himself to thoughts of me makes my skin crawl, but I still don't want him dead.
“I'm a prince. I can do whatever I want.” He reemerges with his shoes and then goes to the chest of drawers for a pair of socks.
“Now you just sound like a brat,” I chastise him.
He sulks, glancing back at me. “I don't think you understand how much you mean to me.”
“Enough for you to kill a man for no good reason. That's endearing.” I give him a sarcastic look.
He smiles. “Well, it looks like you'll be keeping me grounded. I suppose that's a good thing.”
“The ying to your yang. That's how it's supposed to be.” I edge up behind him when he sits on the side of the bed and massage his shoulders while he puts on his socks.
“You don't have to do that,” he tells me. “In fact, I should be the one doing that for you.”
“Oh, please. I enjoy it. I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to.”
He reaches over his shoulder to squeeze one of my hands before continuing to put on his shoes.
“What will happen if Daniel finds my people?” my voice is laced with concern. Fynn might have compassion for them, but it was apparent by the brief confrontation in the dining room last night that General Daniel Hansson does not.
“Who knows.” Fynn shrugs.
I exhale, trying not to care. The odds of them still being there are slim to none. Still...
“I'd feel better if you went,” I blurt out, knowing I have no authority to suggest it.
“Your people are probably gone already.” Fynn glances back at me.
“I know.” I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling guilty for making this request of him. “But I know you. I don't know him. He seems a little vicious. I'm worried about—”
“You do care,” he cuts me off with a grin.
“I don't.” I fold my arms over my chest.
Fynn turns to me, taking my hands in his. “If it would make you feel better, I'll go do the sweep myself.”
“You would do that?” My face lights up.
“Anything for my princess.”
“Thank you, Fynn. It would really put my mind at ease.”
He caresses my cheek before his eyes fall from mine and he stands. “I'm afraid there's no time for me to have breakfast with you. You can ask Lova to make you whatever you want. She's the one with the curly brown hair who has been around the most. She handles most of the household delegating.” I nod in understanding. “If you want to sleep some more, that's fine. Like I said, you can do pretty much whatever you want.
“I know it sucks that you don't have any clothes to wear right now, but you can wear anything of mine, minus my uniforms, until your new wardrobe arrives. I had Lova make procuring clothes for you a priority, so we should get them in tonight.”
“What would happen if I wore one of your uniforms?” I wiggle, not really liking the idea but wanting to push Fynn's buttons a little.
He gives me a warning look. “Don't. I haven't set many rules for you, so I think you should be able to follow the few I do have.”
I sulk, feeling like he's talking down to a child. “I was just joking.” I huff at him.
Fynn leans in to kiss me on the cheek, pinching one of my nipples and making me squeal. “I'll be home this afternoon. Behave while I'm away.”
When our eyes meet, he's smiling at me. I cover myself with my hands, playfully glaring at him.
“Don't get killed while you're away,” I say teasingly, then immediately regret it. For as short a time as I've known him, I would be incredibly sad if he died. And saying something like that out loud just feels like testing fate.
“I don't plan on it.” He salutes me before heading for the door.
I lie back in bed, exhausted from our lovemaking in the shower. Today it really wasn't lovemaking. Today it was just fucking. Last night was lovemaking. I'm not sure it really matters. I enjoyed both. I'd happily take more of either as long as it's with Fynn.
I find it strange that I miss him as soon as he's gone. Is this love—what love feels like? Do I really love him? I care about him greatly, that's for sure. And there's no doubt in my mind that I could love him eventually. Will love him eventually, I tell myself. Not far into the future, if all goes well, he'll be my husband. My husband and the father of my kids. And I'll be royalty. The thought is absolutely dizzying.
I spend about another hour in bed before finally forcing myself to get dressed and go downstairs. I can't imagine that Fynn's servants truly approve of me, so I make sure to wear my own clothes instead of his. I don't want to add insult to injury, especially when he's not around.
Lova smiles at me warmly when she sees me come down the stairs. She seems like a motherly type, and I try to engage her in conversation to learn more about her history working for Fynn, but she keeps her answers short and doesn't seem much like talking. It's then that I realize her niceties are just politeness—that she doesn't really like me being here. Thankfully, she doesn't give voice to her disapproval.
Resigned to the realization that Fynn's entire staff sees me as nothing but an outsider and a burden, I place my food order for breakfast, eat my meal, and then do my best to stay out of everyone's way.
I explore the house like a timid mouse hiding from a cat, sticking to the walls whenever I see someone coming and carefully peeking into rooms before I enter them. I find a living space with a bar and treat myself to a drink. I'm not of drinking age yet, but I don't think that matters here. More than likely, no one is going to try to stop me. Fynn said I could do whatever I want, and I'm sure he left that order with his servants.
I drink my cocktail at the bar, a combination of liquors and mixers—what they would call a suicide if it were a fountain drink. Somehow, it doesn't turn out half bad, and I briefly wonder if a bartender has ever come up with a similar concoction.
Once I finish my drink, wash my glass, and put everything back as it was, I tipsily continue exploring the rest of the house. I find a home theater and spend a good thirty minutes trying to figure out how the projector works before I put on a movie and just chill out for the next few hours.
This is definitely luxury, I think as I take a seat in the middle row and prop my feet up on the chair in front of me. Lifestyles of the rich and famous. I wonder if there's a home theater in the palace. Probably. This place may look like a castle with all of its excessive rooms, but I've seen images of the palace on television. It's at least ten times bigger. While this room is large enough to seat a dozen people, if the palace has a theater, it will be as big as a commercial one.
I drift between the movie and daydreaming about what my life will be like once I'm a princess. What does a princess do exactly? I know that they make lots of public appearances and support charities. That's what I want to do, I decide. If it's within my power, I want to help people as much as possible—give some meaning to my life. And I don't want to just hide inside the palace and help from afar, either. I want to be hands-on. Make the world a better place. It's the least I can do with this opportunity that's just been given to me on a silver platter. And I'll get our children involved too so that they'll grow up to be good people.
Our children. I scrub my hand over my stomach, wondering if I'm pregnant already. Kids had never been in my life plan until now. I had always been too busy just trying to survive, to get from one day to the next. Even before the war, supporting myself was my only concern. But now there are other possibilities...thanks to Fynn.
I watch another movie then continue my exploration of the house. The next interesting room I come across is a library. There are tons of books on film and philosophy, but the section that interests me the most is an entire bookshelf dedicated to children's books that are meticulously arranged by age group. I smile as I skim through the titles, everything from The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Harry Potter. I wonder if the palace has a similar selection. Probably.
I pull down Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? and open it, getting swept away in nostalgia. My adopted parents didn't do a lot for us individually, but what they did do almost every night was get us all together for story time. It was easier for them to read to us all at once, so we'd all cram into my disabled brothers' bedroom and sit on the floor while they went in rotation through the dozen children's books that they owned. We didn't have to stay and listen if we didn't want to. Most of us were too old for whatever they were reading. But most of us did stay because it was the only family time we got.
Every Christmas they bought a new book to add to the mix. I remember being more excited about that than the clothes or whatever necessities ended up wrapped up for me under the tree.
As I look down the row of books on the shelf, I realize that every book my adopted parents ever owned is here. All their books and the ones that were read to me at school and even ones I haven't heard of. Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm collecting books in my arms and sitting on the floor to read them. There's a perfectly good chair in the room—several perfectly good chairs, actually. There's a children's table with four child-sized chairs around it. There's also a larger table and chairs for adults. I take a guess by the pile of board games stacked on one shelf that this is where the family held game nights. Otherwise, why would they need so many chairs?
Despite all the chairs, though, being close to the books trumps comfort. I sit and lean back against the bookshelf, opening the books and reading them one at a time, immersing myself in the fantasies of childhood. When I finish reading one stack of books, I stand, put them back where I found them, then pull out the next section, reading them all in order. I'm so engrossed in what I'm doing that I don't even look up until I hear someone speaking to me from the doorway.
“There you are,” a man's voice says. Not Fynn.
My eyes jerk up, instinctively assuming it's one of the servants. I know I missed lunch. That was hours ago. I hadn't bothered going down because I didn't want to be a burden. Besides, I'm used to not eating very much, and I had a large breakfast—enough to tide me over until dinner. Maybe one of them thought I had tried to run away and became concerned. I'm not sure whether Fynn would get angry at them or not if I left the house.
But when my eyes land on General Daniel Hansson, I realize that's not the case. That no one in this house cares about me but Fynn. Especially not this man. What is he doing here? Just seeing him causes my stomach to clench with discomfort.
I set down the book I was reading and stand, trying to show some level of respect. “Is something wrong?” I ask, immediately fearing that something might have happened to Fynn when he went to sweep the area where my camp was.
“Yes.” He glowers at me from the doorway.
“Is it Fynn? Is he okay?” I draw my hand up to my chest, trying to quell my heart's unsteady beating.
General Daniel Hansson's gaze drops to the floor. His jaw tenses, but I can't really discern his expression. He looks conflicted, angry and guilty all at the same time. “I'm sorry, but I can't allow this to happen.”
“Allow what?” A shiver zips up my spine. I pray I'm misreading him as I feel the room fill with murderous intent.
When I see him grip the handle of the knife on his hip and the silver blade catches the light, I know I'm not mistaken. He's come here to kill me.
I hold my hands up in surrender, backing up against the bookshelf. “Wait a minute. It doesn't have to go down this way. I could just leave.”
He takes a few steps forward. “We both know that wouldn't work. He would find you, wherever you go.”
He stops only a foot away, lifting the knife as if he plans to jam it into my stomach. My heart is about to beat out of my chest. General Daniel Hansson stares into my eyes with the tiniest bit of remorse as he says, “I'm sorry things had to be this way.”
Then he pushes the knife forward.
I gasp, my hands moving on autopilot. The impact shakes me, my wrists trembling. I close my eyes but know that I can't afford to hold them that way. Being blind means death, and right now I need to make sure I'm still okay. Right now, I need to run.
I look down at the blade only an inch from my stomach. It sliced right through the book I pulled from the shelf and thrust in front of me as a shield. It would have gone all the way through me if I hadn't acted quickly.
General Daniel Hansson's brow furrows, and he jerks the book aside. I use the second of distraction to slip around him and run for the door, screaming for help even though I doubt anyone will come to my aid. He's right on my heels, so close that I realize if I stumble and fall, it's all over for me. I head for the stairs, bounding down them three at a time. There's a whoosh of air behind me, and I feel the sting of the blade on my back. I don't know whether he stabbed me or just cut me, but I don't stop running. Adrenaline makes the pain disappear almost instantly, fight or flight response keeping me moving.
I wish I could have taken more time finding all the exits in this place. As it is, I only know of the front and back doors. I haven't explored the backyard yet, so it's probably not my best route for escape. Not that there's any good route when the entire property is fenced off. With Fynn's servants likely on General Daniel Hansson's side, I can't help but wonder what the point of running is. They're not going to let me out. They might even try to help catch me so that General Daniel Hansson can end my life and their prince can move on and marry proper royalty.
I've felt helpless and hopeless before, but never like this. This place was supposed to be my safe haven. Instead, I've trapped myself, a rabbit in a den of wolves. They'll make me run until I'm out of energy, and then they'll strike, tearing out my throat.
I hazard a glance back to see how far away General Daniel Hansson is, wondering if I'll even have time to open the front door when I reach it. The answer is no. If I pause, I'm dead.
“Please stop,” I choke out as I continue to run, the door now in my view. It's not even loud enough to carry behind me. I doubt General Daniel Hansson would listen anyway. He's a man on a mission—a mission he's going to complete as soon as I reach the door.
This is it for me. The foyer might as well be a dead end. I could hang a right and end up in the drawing room, or hang a left and end up in a room with a grand piano. Going left will buy me a little bit of extra time if I can get on the opposite side of the piano from him. Then maybe I can rethink my escape. I decide that's the best option for me, seeing as how there are no large objects in the drawing room for me to hide behind.
Just when I'm about to make the sharp left turn, the front door opens. The cold wind sweeps in like a breath of fresh air, and I feel like an angel must be watching over me for me to have such luck. I make a beeline for the door, planning to bowl past whoever is trying to enter. If I can get past them, it might buy me some extra time if they block General Daniel Hansson's path.
No such luck. I run straight into a wall of muscle. Arms clutch around me, and tears sting my cheeks as I brace myself for the pain of death. I've been captured, and now I'm going to die.
The blade doesn't sink between my shoulder blades, though. I don't gasp my last breath as it plunges into my heart. Instead, I'm spun on my heels and nearly lose my balance. The arms that were holding onto me so tightly work to corral me behind the body I ran into. One quick glance up at the long strands of brown hair now in my face, and I realize who opened the door.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” Fynn's voice booms out in an angry yell.
One minute, his body is protectively close to me, the next, it's surging forward and away. I barely have time to process what's going on before I see him attack General Daniel Hansson. The knife clatters to the floor and is quickly replaced by the sounds of the skirmish. General Daniel Hansson is on the defense, backing away and trying to avoid the onslaught of punches being throw at him.
“I was only doing it to protect the crown,” General Daniel Hansson manages to get out before one of Fynn's punches connects with his face.
“Fuck the crown!”
I stand in the doorway, watching everything in complete disbelief, my hand glued to my chest as I try to still my unsteady breathing. General Daniel Hansson loses his balance and falls back onto the floor. Fynn descends and starts straddle-punching him, one sickening thud after another. General Daniel Hansson is doing his best to block, but his best isn't serving him so well. When Fynn pulls his arm back to hit him again, I can see the blood on his knuckles, though his body is shielding me from seeing General Daniel Hansson's face.
“You tried to kill my fiancée, you son of a bitch,” Fynn says breathlessly.
“Fynn, stop,” General Daniel Hansson chokes out.
Fynn stops finally, leaning back and taking in several deep breaths. “I'll make sure you never lay a hand on her again.” He reaches for the knife that General Daniel Hansson dropped and raises it with both hands.
My heart surges up into my throat as I realize I'm about to see him murder someone. “Fynn, no.” I rush forward to stop him, grabbing onto his arms so that he can't swing down.
“No?” He glances back at me, his forehead beaded with perspiration, his eyes wild. “This son of a bitch tried to kill you.” He gazes back down at General Daniel Hansson with nothing but malice. “The punishment for that is death.”
“Don't kill him,” I beg. “He was only trying to protect your family.”
Fynn snorts, jerking his hands away from me. For a moment, I'm worried he's going to kill General Daniel Hansson anyway, but then he lowers the knife to his side.
“Do you see that?” he says to General Daniel Hansson. “She just saved your life. You were going to kill her, and she repaid you by saving your life.” He leans down and grips General Daniel Hansson's face, digging his fingers into his skin and cracking his skull against the floor a final time. “You remember that.”
I make room as Fynn stands. General Daniel Hansson's face is a bloody mess. His nose is broken, and he's missing a tooth. My stomach rolls from the bloody scene, and I have to turn away, though I still watch General Daniel Hansson in my peripheral vision. Both men are panting, and it takes General Daniel Hansson several moments before he finally pulls himself up into a sitting position.
“Your father is going to hear about this,” General Daniel Hansson tells Fynn like a fucking idiot. Does the guy have a death wish?
“Tell him. By the time he gets here, there will be nothing he can do about it.” Fynn flanks my side. “Now get the fuck out of my house, and if you ever try anything like this again, I swear to fucking God I'll flay you alive myself.”
General Daniel Hansson grits his teeth in pain as he stands and dusts himself off. He gives me one final menacing look before he brushes past Fynn to leave.
“Are you alright?” All of the anger fades from Fynn's eyes as he turns to me. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He clutches onto my arms and looks me over with concern.
“I'm not sure.” I wince as I move my shoulder. Now that the adrenaline is dying down, I can feel the pain from where General Daniel Hansson lashed out at me. “Check my back. I think he cut me or stabbed me or something.” I turn so that my back is towards him.
Fynn examines the wound and then sighs in relief. “It's just a little cut.”
“It doesn't feel little.” I glance at him over my shoulder.
“A little cut that's going to need stitches.” He offers me a regretful smile. “But it's not life-threatening.”
“Thank God.” I exhale deeply.
Fynn spins me back around and pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. “I'm so sorry, Anya. If I had known...” I can hear him choking up.
“It's alright.” I rub his back. “You're not a mind reader.”
“No, but I should have known something was up when he didn't want to come on the sweep after I volunteered to lead it. I thought he was just going to work on something else. If there's one thing Daniel doesn't like to do, it's waste time. There was no reason for both of us to go on the sweep, so there was no reason for me to suspect that he was up to something.”
In hindsight, this was my fault for asking Fynn to go on the sweep. I want to tell him that, but I know he'll just argue with me about it, so instead, I decide to change the subject. “Were my people gone?”
“Yes.” He lets me go and nods. “I'm not sure where they moved to, but I didn't go looking either.”
“Good.” I step in and rest my head against his chest, feeling exhausted from all that running and panicking.
“I'll have one of the medics sent over to tend to that wound. You rest for now.” Fynn rakes his fingers through my hair.
“You should probably have him look at your fists, too.” I glance down at his bloody knuckles.
“You're more important.” He kisses the top of my head, inhaling my scent. “You'll always be more important.”