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St. Vicente

By: KillerRomance



I swear by the Almighty God that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Oh, wait. Wrong statement.

This novella is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

And if it isn't... well, fuck it and enjoy the story.

Blurb:

When Princess Tressa Augustine is kidnapped from her home, she is positive that her father would rescue her almost immediately. Her father is all that's good, and her captors are the Rebels. However, as the days pass and her captors reveal the truth about her family history, the line between the good and the bad becomes undefined. Against her better judgment, she begins to wonder if the things she's heard about her father may be true. And if so, are her captors truly fighting to salvage the island of St. Vicente?

*

She could already see the scene as it unfolded.

The dark-skinned woman with killer curves swimming to the edge of the lake, luxuriating in the icy water before rising to her feet. The rivulets would fall around her like they were worshipping her body, sliding down the tender mounds of her breasts to brave the steep drop of her tummy. She would have no apprehension of being naked outdoors. In fact, she'd deliberately stand on the grassy bank, savoring the feeling of warm air caressing her cool body, before reaching for the towel to dry herself off.

Tressa could see it all -- the ridiculous length of the woman's raven hair, the slant of her eyes, and every intricate detail of her skin. She was so familiar with the woman's body because, after all, she'd been working with that woman for a little over three months now.

Smiling, and curling her legs under the lounge chair comfortably, she scrolled through the pages she'd written that day. It was all building up really nicely to the climax, and that thought gave her a warm feeling. She was still toying with the idea of killing the heroine at the end, but she didn't know if her fans would take to that kind of ending, so that idea was on hold. But other than that, the book was coming on pretty fuckin' awesome.

She saved her work and shut her Mac down. Then, clasping the thin laptop to her chest, she leaned back in her seat and breathed in the fragrant, Irish mountain air. She was sitting on the extended balcony of the house she'd rented for the year. The little two-room cottage had an excellent view of lake -- or lough, as they called it -- and it was because of the view that she'd had to ask her daddy to increase her allowance just a slight bit for the year. It hadn't taken much to convince him; she'd always been his favorite. But she still hated that she had to ask her father for yearly allowances. As the only daughter of the nation, she wasn't allowed to work. Her sole duty was to oversee the welfare of her country, and she would not be paid for that job. Her daddy's allowance was the only thing that supported her financially.

She knew she shouldn't complain. There were so many people in the world who would kill to be in her position. But she wasn't happy.

All she wanted to do in her life was to write. Writing made her happy. But it also made her forget her responsibilities. Her people needed her, and that fact tended to slip through her conscience when a story started to form in her mind.

She remembered fighting with her father for that very same reason, telling him that she wasn't suited to be the head of the Ministry of Citizen Welfare, but he hadn't listened to her. He had insisted that an Augustine could do well when given any position in the monarchy. He had faith in her, he'd said. And over time, she'd grown resigned to the fact that someday, she'd be sitting behind a large, mahogany desk and doing something she hated.

Her only condolence was the next nine months she had in Ireland. She was so proud of the bargain she'd made with her daddy: give her a year off to get the words out of her system and she'd work for Casa Grande for the rest of her life. She'd already used three months out of that year, and she didn't regret a moment of it. They were the most fruitful months she'd ever hoped to have.

The sun went down, and the air got colder. Tressa shivered a little and packed up her things to bring in. She knew that Bernard, one of her bodyguards, would also be packing up his equipment. Part of her deal with her father was that she would bring Bernard, and his partner Gianni along with her. The rebels were still active and daddy had not wanted to take chances with her.

She shut the door to the balcony and lit a fire in the manual fireplace in the living room. Then she switched the small stereo on and turned the knob until she found one of Beyonce's slower numbers. Then, humming, she padded to the kitchen to make dinner.

As though on a timer, her tummy growled, and she wished she could indulge herself with pizza or something equally cheesy. But one look at her reflection in the kitchen window reminded her that she needed to lose the extra fifteen pounds she was hoarding around. Rubbing a hand over her curved belly, she reached for some vegetables and chicken. Soup would have to do.

An hour later, she lay curled on the sofa, as contented as only someone with a belly full of soup could be. The fire was burning low, and the grey sweater she wore over her white spaghetti top was becoming ridiculously comfortable. She'd intended to write some more before she fell asleep, but...

*

She awoke with a gasp, heart pounding so fast that it was hard to breathe. She pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes and stood up abruptly. Her throat was dry and somehow or another, she knew that something was not right.

The little cuckoo clock on the wall told her that it was almost midnight. Nothing in the house had moved, nor were there any odd noises. She had no idea why she felt so panicked when she awoke. Bad dream, perhaps? She didn't really know. Besides, Gianni would be out there somewhere, watching the house like a hawk watching its babies, so she shouldn't be worried about her safety.

Gulping, she put a hand over her heart and sat back down on the sofa with a plop. What a freak occurrence. Her heart rate was going back to normal, but very slowly.

After several deep breaths and a shower, Tressa slipped into a black tank top and a pair of checkered white shorts. The hot water had made her feel relaxed again, and she thought she'd be able to get another few hours of writing done before hitting the sack.

She was just plodding down the stairs for her laptop when someone knocked on the door. Her footsteps stilled instantly. Who would be knocking on her door in the middle of the night? The cottage was completely isolated. In fact, the nearest town was a half hour drive away. She also didn't have any neighbors save for Bernard and Gianni.

Remembering them, she descended the rest of the stairs quietly and reached for the cordless phone. She could hear a shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door, as though the person was impatient. Her fingers flew over numbers and she waited for either Bernard or Gianni to pick up. They usually picked up after a couple of rings, if not immediately. When the call was cut, she finally realized that something was very wrong.

She still held the phone to her ear, hoping that it was a mistake and that she would hear Gianni's guttural voice on the other line. Frantic, she dialed their number again, her breathing erratic.

She dropped the phone when she heard her name being called from the other side of the door. The phone came apart and the battery flew under the sofa. She clasped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her harsh breaths.

She just stood there, looking at the door with her hands over her mouth for god knows how long. There was a perfect mix of fear, anxiety and panic in her body that didn't allow her to move. She simply stood still and waited for Gianni to use the spare key and come through the door at any moment.

But she knew it wouldn't. She knew it when she felt icy fingers on her neck, and heard the smooth voice in her ear.

"Princess Tressa, it's nice to finally meet you."

And then, as true ladies do, she passed out.

*

Lucio entered the house just as Adrian was laying the little princess on the sofa. The men filed into the house behind him and began setting up the equipment for the hours ahead. Lucio looked at his older brother and smiled. Finally, they were getting somewhere after years of planning. The little victory felt good.

"Bodyguards?" Adrian asked, his voice clipped, as was the usual.

"In the van. Paulo and Julian are seeing to them. How the bastard king trusted those two to guard his only daughter is completely beyond me."

Adrian said nothing.

"There is no one else in the house, sir," Bull reported from the stairs. Adrian gave him a curt nod. He'd been watching the house for seventeen hours, and knew no one else had entered it, but he just had to make sure that there was not one person he had overlooked. There was no room for fuck-ups in this case. His father and grandfather had dreamed of this. Now it was in his hands -- and Lucio's - to see that St Vicente was back in Vicente control.

"I want a full report on the situation in Casa Grande. Ten minutes," he told Lucio. Shrugging, the younger brother slipped a palmtop out of his jacket and got to work.

Adrian gestured for Bull to keep an eye on the girl before heading up the stairs himself to look for anything that might hinder the plans. Though young, it was possible that she kept weapons in the house for self-defense. If he didn't find them now, she might be able to get to it later and put a dent in his plans.

He scoured the house from floorboard to bedsheets, but found nothing that hinted that it could be used as a weapon. He did, however, find several spare boxes of tampons, her passport, two hundred American dollars, and a bejeweled black vibrator that made him smile slightly. It was almost unimaginable that the little princess knew about the pleasures of the flesh; she looked so virginal.

"Adrian," Lucio called from the doorway of the bedroom. He was typing on his palmtop as he talked.

"Casa Grande doesn't suspect as of... is that a vibrator?"

The little smile on Adrian's lips got wider at the shock on his brother's face. He tossed the velvety toy onto the bed and moved closer to Lucio so he could look into the palmtop.

"What were you saying?"

"Uh, yes." Lucio cleared his throat and gave himself a mental shake. "No one in Casa Grande has any idea that we have the girl."

"Fantastic."

"The king just had his dinner and is adjourning to his private rooms."

A flick of Lucio's fingers revealed a hidden camera in the hall of the king's private rooms.

Adrian brushed past Lucio with a curt nod.

"We're contacting him in half an hour. Let's see if that helps with his indigestion."

Lucio flipped his palmtop closed and followed his brother down the stairs with a sigh. It was going to be one hell of a night.

*

Her head was throbbing. Tressa noticed only that discomfort as she awoke. She couldn't remember why her head hurt, and the pounding became worse when she tried to recall what had happened. A quiet moan snuck past her lips as she turned around on the sofa, trying to find another comfortable spot.

Then, past the pounding of the blood in her ears, she heard a very familiar sound. The tick-tick-tick of fingers on keys. Someone was typing. In her house. When she lived alone.

She sat up as abruptly as she'd awoken only a couple of hours before. Only this time, her fears were real. Around her worked a group of men dressed in all-black. They weren't wearing her father's seal. Her eyes roved each man for the small, gold arches, but no one had it stitched to his clothing. That could only mean...

Her hear rate accelerated and she clasped her fingers over her mouth to stifle the scream, just as she'd done earlier. She'd always known that being attacked by the rebels was a possibility, but she'd never ever thought it would actually happen.

Oh god. She had to escape. Very, very quickly.

"Don't even think about it."

She turned abruptly to find a man seated on the sofa chair next to hers. His eyes were as cold as frosted glass, and they were shredding her courage. She didn't want to turn into a blubbering mass of female flesh in front of these traitors. She was the princess of St Vicente. She had to be strong.

But damnit. His eyes were making her extremely nervous!

She scooted away from him.

"What do you want from me?" The words, repeated in many movies, in many ways, sounded unnaturally confident, coming from her.

"Oh, I think you know what we want, princess."

She knew his words were meant to scare her, and she couldn't help the cramping of her gut.

"Do you want money? My father will give you money. Just don't hurt me."

He didn't say a word in return, merely reached for the piece of technology that beeped in the pocket of his suit.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked when he ignored her.

She watched as something on his tiny laptop made him frown. It made her anxious. And when she was anxious, she couldn't stop talking.

"Are you going to kill me? I promise you daddy will pay you a lot of money if you return me. Please don't -."

"Shut the fuck up, woman!"

She nearly recoiled at those words, but she had to know what was going on. Before she could say something else, there was a voice from the kitchen. It sounded more threatening than the man in front of her.

"Bring her in here, Lucio."

She didn't know what to expect when she entered the kitchen. Her hands were trembling and she clasped them together so that it wouldn't show. The man in the kitchen sat with his back to her. His hair was short and diamond studs shone on each earlobe. He was fiddling with something on the table.

"Sit."

She couldn't resist that voice. She doubted anyone really could. It just reeked of authority -- almost like her father's.

"Lucio, stay."

Lucio stayed. He stood behind Mr. Boss, typing away on his little computer.

"Look at me."

Tressa peered at him from beneath her eyelids. She didn't know why exactly, but she was afraid of this man above all the rest. Maybe it was because he was obviously their leader, or perhaps it was because there was 'danger' written on every inch of his skin. She didn't know which, but it frightened the shit out of her.

"Look me in the eye, princess."

She hated it when people called her that. It made her sound like a pampered little brat -- something she was sure she wasn't. She especially hated the word on his lips, just because he was the one saying it. It wasn't doubtful that he had planned this whole thing.

Her eyes rose to his and she held it for a few seconds, before letting it drop. He laughed.

"Cowardice. So typical of an Augustine."

Almost as if on cue, her eyes sprang back to his in hatred. How dare he insult her family? He was the bastard who'd kidnapped her instead of confronting her father, and he was calling her family cowardly?

"That's better," he said, when her eyes met his with a fair amount of anger. "Mind if I smoke?"

He'd been playing with the box of cigarettes in his hands, and he didn't even pause to wait for her reply before he slid a stick out.

"Actually, I do mind. I'm asthmatic."

He had already clasped the stick of cigarette between his lips. At her words, he paused, then slowly lowered the chemical cylinder.

"Fair enough," he said, putting the cigarettes away. "Wouldn't want to kill you sooner than we have to."

Lucio gave a snort of laughter. Tressa couldn't believe that they were talking about killing her as though it was a joke!

"What do you want from me?" Her tone was reasonable, diplomatic. But he could see the fear and desperation behind her eyes. She was afraid of him, afraid of all of them. And that was what he wanted. He needed that fear.

Adrian leaned back in his chair. "I want nothing but cooperation from you. Don't make this more difficult. Understand?"

She stared at him as thought he was crazy for suggesting she cooperate. "You've just kidnapped me and held me hostage in my own home. You want me to cooperate?"

He didn't even blink. "Yes."

She made a dash for the glass door that led to the balcony. She'd be able to run into the forest that way. They wouldn't be able to find her there.

But all she heard was laughter from the men as she struggled to open the locked door.

"Don't keep trying, princess. It looks stupid."

Humiliated, she turned on him, looking like an oversized but vengeful nymph.

"What do you want from me? I keep asking you, and you don't tell me! You want money? Or do you have some terrorist friend in jail and want to trade me for him? What? What do you want?"

"Hmm. We never thought of that second idea, eh, Adrian?"

"No, because we've got better use for her. Sit down, princess. I'll explain the rules of the game."

She sat on the edge of the chair, ready to bolt.

Adrian rolled up the right sleeve of his sweater. He pointed to a puncture wound near his wrist. "This is from first time your father tried to kill me. I was reaching for a tube of gum when one of his assassins shot at me. I was five."

He tilted his head to show her the almost-invisible scar behind his right ear. "I was walking down a road in Sydney when another assassin shot me with a silencer. It grazed the side of my head and hit a brick building. No one knew why I started bleeding like a pig at slaughter. Only I saw the bullet. I was seventeen."

He pulled the shirt up to his neck and she saw the wound even before he pointed at it. It was on the right side of his chest, very near his heart. "Last year."

She shook her head. "Daddy isn't like that. He doesn't like violence. He always told me that diplomacy is the best way to settle differences."

"Well, not in my case." He leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. "I'm a liability to his fragile regime."

"My father's regime is not fragile. Please stop insulting him. Who the hell are you?"

Lucio tsked. "A princess who cusses. Very interesting. Oh, and Adrian. Number three."

"Fantastic."

Before she even had time to blink, Adrian leaned down and slipped a gun from his boots. She made a startled sound as he spun it once and set it in between them.

"Let's play a game, sweetheart. Ever heard of Russian Roulette?"

He could've sworn her cheeks turned pale, even though it was impossible to tell from the dark tone of her skin. She looked like she was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both. Good. That's what he wanted.

"You see, I gave your father five rules to follow when I called him. I warned him that if he ever broke any, I would know, and I would punish you for that. He's already broken three of them."

The threat hung in the air. Tressa found it hard to believe anything this man said. Why would he lie to her about her father wanting him dead? Her father was the most non-violent person she knew. And why would daddy break the goddamn rules when it would put her life in danger? He wouldn't do such a thing. This man had to be lying.

"The first one was that he was not to tell anyone that his daughter was being held hostage. He broke that rule in the first three minutes." As he spoke, Adrian opened the bullet chamber and emptied all but one of the bullets. Then he shut it again. "The second rule was that he was not to alert his private police force. He broke that one as well."

He stood up slowly and came over to her with the gun in his hand. One of the bullets rolled from the table to the floor. She jumped at the harsh, clinking sound. He came toward her and she tried to back away.


St. Vicente Ch. 02



She'd just exited the shower when she heard the code to her room being punched in. Her ears had become attuned to the sound over the past few days; she didn't like anyone sneaking up on her.

As she unwrapped the towel from her damp hair, the door seemed to burst open, hitting the wall and bouncing back. Even though she'd expected someone to enter, the violent movement made her heart jump and blood race. She watched, wide-eyed, as Adrian entered.

The door slammed shut.

She began trembling. She didn't know why, but she instinctively knew something was wrong. Adrian simply stood there, staring at her. His eyes were slightly red and the muscles on his biceps were straining. Eerie green veins seemed to be popping up on his neck, making her think of the incredible hulk. She tried to swallow her fear as his eyes roamed over her.

Then he was striding forward.

She backed up. Several steps, in fact. She felt like she was being rushed by a wild animal. There was danger reflected in his eyes and she was much too smart to stand her ground.

Her back hit the bathroom door just as his hand closed around her throat. The towel dropped from her hands as she reached up to claw at him. His fingers were slowly cutting off the flow of air to her lungs. She was going to die. She could feel it happening. She could see the intent in his navy eyes. He was in a rage about something and he wouldn't give up until...

He kissed her. It took her several moments to comprehend the change. His hand lifted from her throat and he was kissing her, backing her against the door, lifting her. She was light-headed from the lack of air and could not muster the strength to push him away. His hands seemed to be everywhere, tugging at her, pulling, fondling roughly.

It was all a blur to her. She was still concentrating on breathing. She could feel herself clinging to him, trying to get her world straight. Then she felt heat scorch through her body and everything around her became very still.

She could hear her rapid breathing, her erratic heartbeat. She could feel his too, beating a tattoo rhythm against her. His lips were buried in her neck, biting, nibbling, kissing. And she whimpered, a soft sound that she did not recognize as her own.

His hands delved under her tank top to caress her breasts. As she usually went to bed without a bra, he was allowed easy access to the sensitive mounds. She moaned deep in her throat when he pinched the tight nub, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through her body.

He carried her over to the bed and deposited her on it. The jolt she received from bouncing on the bed made her snap out of the sexual haze he'd fogged her with. She stared up at him with eyes clouded with confusion.

As he shed his shirt and jeans, she couldn't help but notice the beautiful contours of his chest. Before, she'd thought he didn't have six a pack. But as he leaned down to pull his jeans off, his torso muscles flexed, revealing a perfectly contoured chest.

But when he slid onto the bed, she moved away. She wasn't intoxicated enough to think that any of this was right.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice tight and hoarse.

He simply reached over and pulled her back, straddling her in one swift move.

"Stop it!" she yelled, pushing at his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh to inflict maximum pain.

He growled low in his throat and captured both her hands above her head, pinning her to the bed.

She struggled against him, trying to use her hips to buck him off.

"Stop struggling, princess. You know it's going to be no use."

But his words only made her struggle more.

As her knee came close to his crotch, he held her down more forcefully, trapping her legs between his own.

There were tears in her eyes now, glittering in the lamplight. She continued to struggle against him, crying out in pain when she couldn't dislodge him.

"Why are you doing this?" she repeated, sounding almost defeated.

"Because I want you," he lied, kissing her neck again. He already knew she had a sensitive spot right there.

"I-I thought you hate me?"

"I lied."

She opened her mouth to question him more, but he quickly covered it with his, thrusting his tongue deep into her warmth. He kissed her that way for what seemed like hours, trying to shave away her reluctance. When he pulled back, her expression was bemused.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against her lips.

His words were crude, but they made little shocks of electricity run through her body.

"I..." She shook her head, unable to mouth the words.

"Are you sure?"

His fingers moved to her mound and stroked it, making her arch in surprised pleasure. She hadn't even been aware of him taking her shorts off. She was so sensitive and his touch was making her body so weak and needy. God, had she ever been this sensitive before?

"You're wet. Why am I not surprised?"

Soft whimpers escaped from her throat as he sifted his fingers through her trimmed curls, letting his forefinger brush against her clit periodically. He could feel what his touch was doing to her. Her lips were becoming fuller, her slit coated in her cream. Her body was reacting to his.

"Your body's begging to be fucked, princess," he growled, biting down on her earlobe. "Are you sure you don't want to be fucked?"

Her breath caught. She wanted to shake her head.

Before she could respond, he thrust into her, cleaving that fragile barrier even before he knew it was there. His gaze was every bit as stricken as hers when their eyes met.

It would've been so easy. Seduce her, get the tape, blackmail Augustine. It was solid -- plan 2.4. He'd seen the vibrator in her room and interpreted it as a sign that she wasn't a virgin. Apparently, he'd made a huge mistake on that account.

He found that he could not meet her gaze. He'd stolen her virginity from her. So callously. She began crying, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. She looked so desolate, so pained, so very defeated. She made him feel like a monster -- which he probably was.

The last of his anger drained out of him, and with a clear mind, he finally saw the truth of what he'd done. He'd raped her. He'd raped a virgin.

He laid his forehead against hers, trying to take in a calming breath. He was still buried inside her heat. She was still pulsing around him to the rhythm of her heartbeat, coating him with her wetness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing the tears from her eyes.

"W-what?" she asked, stunned. More tears flowed from her eyes.

"Hush. Stop that." His voice was gruff as he dashed away the remainder of her tears.

He moved slightly inside her and her breath caught.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, watching the play of emotions cross her face.

"Not really," she admitted, staring up at him with confusion in her eyes. She didn't know what to make of him. Damn, he didn't know what to make of himself. Which idiot would assault a woman and then ask if she was all right? Shit, he was going crazy!

He moved inside her slowly, watching as her pupils dilated in pleasure. He buried his lips in her neck and her eyelids fluttered shut. He released her hands and she immediately curled it around his neck, holding on for the ride, pulling him closer. He picked up the pace, raising her legs to curl around his waist. Soft whimpers left her throat and those sexy little sounds spurred him on.

He sucked on his index finger and brought it to her clit, making her buck under him. The circular motions of his fingers quickened, and she drew in a sharp breath, tensing. Her sheath closed over him so tightly that it was almost painful.

The look of ecstasy on her face got to him. With a low growl, he spurted in her sensitized sheath, triggering a riot of mini-orgasms in her body.

Minutes later, he pulled on his jeans and grabbed his shirt. She still lay on the bed, curled into a ball. His eyes met hers and he saw the confusion in them, the helplessness. Not wanting to deal with it, he left the room, making sure he locked it down.

Only then did he cover his face with his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell had he done?

*

Lucio started as the door to the surveillance room opened. Adrian strode in and scowled when he saw that the monitor to the princess's room was off. He reached over and flicked it on. She was still lying in the same position that he'd left her in.

"So you did it," Lucio commented, his voice betraying none of the anger he was feeling. He'd told Adrian from the start that the girl was an innocent and deserved no punishment for what her father had done. But had his brother listened? No.

Adrian didn't reply. Instead, he said, "I want the tape."

Lucio gave him a curt nod. They'd been through this plan before.

"By seven. I'll see you in the meeting room." His hand was on the doorknob when he paused and turned again, "Bring the princess."

*

He got the tape ready in record time and burned it into a CD. Bull stepped into the surveillance room for his shift just as Lucio put the CD into a case.

"Mama sent you her cookies," Bull said as he shut the door. In his hand was a tin full of his mother's chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies. As children, Lucio would haunt the Matteo household every baking day, waiting for Mama to break out a new batch of cookies so he could pounce on them. He never really grew out of that cookie-eating phase.

"Thanks," he said, reaching for the tin.

"Any change?" Bull asked, turning his attention to the cameras. When he spotted Tressa on the bed, naked, he raised an eyebrow. She'd never been one to sleep naked; he should know, since he'd been monitoring her sleeping habits.

Lucio cleared his throat. "Yes, actually. Adrian carried out plan 2.4 a few minutes ago."

"What?" Bull's sharp exclamation reverberated through the room.

"He's calling a meeting for 0700. He'll inform all of you about the progress then."

Bull ran a hand over his smooth head in agitation. "How could he do that without discussing with the team first?"

Lucio sighed, sharing Bull's sentiment. "I think he snapped. After we watched the video... he lost it a little. He had that look in his eyes... I didn't think I could stop him even if I wanted to."

Bull's fist came down hard on the table, toppling the pencil holder. "So he raped her?"

"Not really."

Bull's eyes narrowed. "Then it was consensual?"

Lucio swallowed. "Not really."

"Then what the hell was it?"

It was Lucio's turn to run his hands through his hair. "I don't know, ok? She was responding to him, and that's all we need."

The dark man sat down heavily on his chair.

"You agreed to this, Bull. When we formulated the plan, you agreed to 2.4."

"I know, god damnit!"

Lucio took the other chair and straddled it. "Look, I know how you feel. She's innocent. She doesn't deserve this. Adrian knows that too. But there's really no other way to threaten that bastard. We want him on his toes."

Bull flicked a button and zoomed in on her, lying on the bed.

"Look at her, man. She's broken."

Lucio flicked the screen off and turned Bull in his direction.

"That girl's father is the bastard that bombed the court where your father was standing. Her father is responsible for making your mother a widow. Can you forgive that?"

The wounds, though over thirty years old, were not buried. They still burned like someone poured salt water on them. Bull shut his eyes. "No, I can't."

"I can't, either. Neither can Adrian. We're all fighting for one cause here. Adrian is doing his best to ensure we get justice. He needs everyone on board."

"I am on board. It's just..." His voice trailed off.

"Just what?"

"She reminds me of my sister."

When Lucio said nothing, Bull continued. "I feel like I need to protect her."

"Well, she's not Rose and you don't have to protect her. Just remind yourself that her family is responsible for the death of your father and your relatives. It should give you enough ammo to move forward."

There was a long silence as Bull stared into a blank screen. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, thanks, man."

Luc slapped him on the back. "Stay strong."

*

Ok, so he didn't really believe what he told Bull. The girl was an innocent. She shouldn't be put through this shit. But he wasn't going to spoil his brother's plans by sympathizing with the enemy. He was smarter than that. It had taken the family 30 years to get here, and he wasn't going to ruin it for them all.

Looking around the corridor to make sure no one was coming, he quickly punched in the code to her room and entered. She was not on the bed as he'd last seen her. Instead, he heard the shower running.

He moved forward to sit on the bed, but froze awkwardly mid-way when he saw the stains on the bedsheet. Blood. Her blood. Had she been a virgin? It was impossible. They'd seen the toy in her room... and yet...

The water stopped running. Luc looked from the bed to the chair repeatedly then chose to stand in the middle of the room instead. When she exited the shower in her tank top and shorts, he stood awkwardly with the tin of cookies in one hand.

When she saw him, her eyes widened in panic and she moved backwards, trying to get away from him.

"No, no, no." He backed away slowly, showing her that he meant no harm. "I wanted to give you something."

She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. He attempted a smile and failed miserably.

"Here," he said, passing her the tin. She didn't reach out for it. She looked at it, then back at him.

"They're cookies. Bull's mama made them. They're wonderful. She puts little bits of Cadbury chocolate in them and chunks of macadamia nuts..."

She looked at him as though he'd lost a couple of crucial brain cells.

"Bull gave them to me and I thought you might like some. Here." He popped the tin open and handed it to her. She still didn't move and continued to eye him warily.

"Well, I'll just set it down here then." He put it on the bed. "You can eat it whenever you want."

But as the smell from the tin wafted towards him, his mouth watered. Smiling apologetically, he reached into the tin. "I'm just going to take a couple of these."

He stuffed one in his mouth and grabbed a couple more.

She was now looking at him with a weird expression on her face.

"I'm gonna go," he said around a mouthful of cookies.

As he opened the door, she called out to him. Her voice was hoarse -- from her tears, he knew.

"Thank you."

He smiled, but it was apologetic. "I hope they make you feel better."

*

His men gathered in the meeting room at seven sharp. No one was late, except for Lucio, who was bringing the princess in. Adrian glanced at his watch again, waiting for the two of them to show up.

The men were getting impatient. All of them had important tasks to do -- mostly pertaining to security. When they were inside, they had to watch their posts through a camera... it was not the safest thing to do.

It was fifteen past seven when Luc showed up with the princess in tow. She looked bedraggled, with her hair tousled and dressed only in shorts and a tank top. Her lips were fuller than they'd been before. He refused to think about why that was so.

"Have a seat," he said, his voice sharp.

The princess looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked away, seating herself next to Luc.

"As some of you might already know, plan 2.4 was carried out last night."

Tressa looked up, wondering what plan 2.4 was. She hoped it didn't involve bombing or violence of any kind. Just thinking about her country in shambles made her shiver.

"Today, we're sending Augustine the video. If he does not respect our request, we'll be sending the video out to all major entertainment industries and shows."

Tressa frowned and leaned close to Luc. "What tape?" she whispered, but one look at him showed her that the nice, kind guy she'd seen last night was gone. His eyes were hard, cold, like the first time she'd met him.

She leaned back slowly, suddenly quite afraid. The men were all looking at her with weird looks in their eyes. Only Bull stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

Next to her, Luc flicked a key on his laptop and a video played on screen. So, they were going to watch a video. Fine by her.

It took her a while to recognize the room from that angle. When she did, she sat up straighter, her jaw dropping in shock. It was her room. And there she was, lying on the bed, naked, with Adrian covering her body.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

At first, she thought the voice was inside her head. God only knew she'd repeated the scene several times in her mind. But then, she realized that it was actually coming from the video. And she also realized that she'd been making really slutty whimpers at that point.

Her voice filled the room. "Yes, god, Adrian. Fuck me!"

Those words snapped her out of her shocked stupor. Anger effervesced inside her, spilling over as she slammed her palms on the table. They stung badly, but she ignored the pain.

"I did not say those words!" she shouted at the leader. "This is inhumane! I knew it! I knew you had a motive for doing that last night."

Adrian ignored her and turned to Luc. "Send it off."

Tressa turned to the younger brother, her stance panicked. "Send it off? Send it off to whom?"

"Why, your father of course."

Tressa raised petrified eyes to Adrian's. There was nothing left of the man who had apologized to her last night for hurting her. The man before her was the ruthless, cold, mean-tempered asshole who'd held a hand to her throat last night.

She reached out to grab Luc's hands as they flew across the keyboard. "Please, don't."

Her voice left no doubt that she was begging.

Bull stood and left the room.

Tressa's eyes pleaded with Luc. He looked over to Adrian.

"Send it."

"No, please! He's my father. H-he can't see this."

Luc shook her off and did as his brother told him to. When he was done, he closed his laptop and followed Bull out of the room. He didn't want to look at her. The other members of the team followed suit.

She sat in her chair, stunned. How could anyone...? It had been her first time... He'd raped her and then he'd edited the damn video to make it seem like she'd wanted it?

Tears fell from her eyes, and she didn't stop them from falling. She was too numb. Her entire body felt frozen. Her father was going to see her having sex. And if he didn't abdicate the throne, they were going to send the video to the entertainment industry.

It was all too much to take in. It was happening much too fast. She didn't know how to react. Her shoulders sagged and she covered her eyes with her hands.

When a hand touched her shoulder, she stood and whirled around.

"You have to go back to your room."

She attacked him. The anger seemed to burst from inside her and she rushed at him with a growl.

He hadn't been expecting that. She'd looked so helpless, so defeated. He didn't know how he ended up on the floor with her on top of him, tearing his shirt apart.

"I hate you!" she spat. He didn't think anyone else had said those three words with that much conviction.

Her hands moved into his hair and she pulled, trying as hard as possible to tear out as much hair as she could by the roots. The pain nearly made his eyes roll back in his head. He'd been punched in the face countless times, but the agony of having his hair pulled was really something close to getting his crotch kicked.

He rolled her under him in one quick move, dislodging her hands from his hair. She wriggled and kicked and spat profanities, but like the night before, it was so easy for him to subdue her. She was small and had little strength.

She spat on him. Right on his cheek. Then she bared her teeth at him like a wild animal.




St. Vicente Ch. 02



He used his free hand to wipe the spit off. If anyone else had tried that with him, they'd be organizing a funeral for them. But it was her. In his heart, he knew he'd wronged her.

He stared at her for the longest time, tracing her features with his eyes. She had a lovely round face, with chubby cheeks that had dimples indenting them. Her brows were thin and shapely and her nose was pert. She had a high forehead that she liked to cover up with her fringe. Her eyes, slanted and exotic, were her best feature. And those lips...

"You lied to me," she accused, and his eyes shot up to hers again. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain what she meant.

"Last night, you told me you wanted me." Her eyes were filling up with those damn tears again. Fuck, he really hated it when she cried. "It was just to make the tape."

He gave her a curt nod. "Yes."

"Why would you do that to me?" The tears were spilling over in earnest now. "Huh? I've done nothing to hurt you. Your fight is with my father. Why would you ruin my life like that?"

"You're his blood," he said simply, as though it were explanation enough.

"You raped me," she said quietly. "It was my first time."

He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Guilt had been assaulting him through the night. What he'd done had been wrong. There was no question about it. But there was nothing he could do to turn back time. He simply had to live with the consequences.

She looked away from him, closing her eyes. The tears continued to flow. He loosened his hold on her, thinking to let her up.

It was the out she'd been looking for. In a swift move, her knee connected with his crotch and he fell backward with his breath wheezing from his lungs. As he tried to endure the stabbing pain, she scrambled off the floor and ran.

*

She didn't know where she was going. The marble under her bare feet was cold and she skidded once or twice, but hell, she had to run. Worse than the fear of being held hostage once again was the fear that she'd be caught. Adrian was a dangerous man. She didn't know what he'd do to her for kicking him in the nuts.

Surprisingly, the house was empty as she ran down towards the first floor. The meeting room was on the third floor, she knew, and she just needed to get to the first floor to find a way out.

Once there, it was pretty obvious where the exit was. The large oak doors screamed for her to escape. She looked over her shoulder as she dashed towards it, but found that no one was chasing her. Surely, Adrian had recovered by then...?

She shoved the door open and sprinted into the morning light. There was a little space for a veranda. Across it was a flight of steps leading to an open field.

She didn't hesitate to run towards the steps. Once there, however, she found that her way was blocked.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she looked at the man named Bull. He stared at her from the bottom of the steps with his arms crossed. His nostrils were slightly flared, reminding her of the animal he was named after.

She heard footsteps behind her. God, no. They were going to surround her.

She turned to the right and fled. The veranda gave her little space to run, but she didn't care. She didn't want to face the consequences if she were caught.

Now she could hear them chasing after her. Their calls for her to stop made her think they were crazy. Why the hell would she stop? So that they could lock her in that room again? So that they could threaten to make another sex tape? So that they could play with her life like it was a toy?

She turned a corner and realized there was another guard storming towards her from the other direction. She was going to be caught. There was no doubt about it. They'd cornered her. Unless...

She vaulted herself over the veranda's fencing. It was a long drop. At least six feet. She landed on her hands and knees; the grass did not cushion her fall at all. More shouts sounded behind her. She scrambled to her feet and broke into a dead sprint.

There was a gate. She could see it in the distance. A small white gate that was probably used by the servants. If she could get to that, she could escape...

She was about three feet from salvation when someone slammed into her, knocking her down. She was on her back in seconds with a slight weight pinning her to the crisp grass. The loss of breath and the shock of the impact made her lie very still. She stared up at the bright morning clouds, blinking, blinking...

She'd been so close.

*

Someone had carried her back to her room. She must have passed out for a couple of minutes. Her body hadn't been put through such strenuous activity since... ever. Adrenaline had pumped through her body, giving her the strength to do what she did. Well, that, and the determination to escape.

When she awoke, she was on her bed again. She tried to sit up, but her head hurt. She raised a hand to it and realized that there was blood on her forehead. Panic trickled through her, making her breath burst form her lips in short gasps.

She had a head injury. People died from head injuries. Oh, god. She was going to die. Even as she thought it, she could feel herself getting weaker. She'd read about cases like this online. Just a tiny head injury could hurt an important nerve and she could pass out and never wake up again!

She was on the verge of having a panic attack when her door was opened. Adrian walked in, holding a white box in his hand. At the sight of him, she scooted back on the bed frantically and stood on the other side, trying to get away from him. The movement made her nauseas but she tried to keep it together.

"Don't move," he said calmly, setting the box by the bedside table.

"Get away from me!" she shouted at him, feeling a trickle of blood flowing down her temple.

He seemed to ignore her outburst. "You're injured."

"Thanks to you!" she shot back.

He folded a wet cloth in half.

"Come here."

"No, god damnit!" Just as she shouted those words, bile rose in her throat and the world began to twirl.

He slid over the bed and caught her, though she protested weakly at his touching her. Her face looked as pale as it could get, with slightly grey undertones. Sighing, he set her on the bed and cleaned up the drips and dribbles of blood on her forehead.

The head wound wasn't serious. She'd just cut herself on a loose stone in the grass. But she looked as though she was dying.

Coco had obviously been rough with her when she slammed the princess into the ground. There were bruises on the dark girl's arms where Coco had held her pinned to the grass. He knew, if he looked under her top, he'd find a dark bruise from the impact of his cousin's elbow as well.

Damn her for being so stupid. Did she really think she could outrun them? Even if she'd made it past the gates, there were three guards stationed along the back of the house. They would've caught her.

But damn, was she fast. He knew that she was more than a few pounds overweight -- hell, he'd felt the downy extra flesh rubbing against him -- but that definitely didn't stop her from running like an African with a number tag strapped to her back.

The way she'd looked when she threw herself over that fence! He nearly smiled. Stupid, he thought, looking at the scrapes on her palms and knees, but courageous. In a similar situation, he would've done the same thing.

She was turning out to be a surprise. Sure, she was spoiled, but she had spunk. She dared to defy him when many women simply assumed the submissive role around him. And though this might only be a sick, screwed up psychological response because he felt guilty for what happened last night, he found that he actually might like her.

All that aside, he needed her. She was his means to an end. His family's salvation.

Princess Tressa Augustine. What a contradiction she was turning out to be.

*

"He's in a rage," Adrian remarked, reclining in his chair. "This is my kinda porn."

They were in the meeting room, watching the real time feed of Augustine reacting to plan 2.4.

Lucio looked over at his brother in disgust. "Ew."

"Don't tell me it doesn't give you pleasure to see him like this." Adrian picked up the remote and zoomed the camera in. From this angle, they could see Augustine's red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair. As he let out another enraged snarl, Adrian smiled contentedly.

Luc shrugged.

Adrian looked over at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Luc's hands poised over his palmtop, hesitant. Then he shrugged again, focusing on the small screen in front of him. 

Adrian swiveled the chair in his brother's direction and sat up.

"Tell me what's on your mind."

"Look, it's nothing. Forget it."

"Luc..." Lucio knew that voice. It meant that Adrian was at the end of his patience. He looked up at his older brother, sighing.

"Fine. You want to know the truth? Fine." He knew he was nervous when he began repeating words. "I think you're being too harsh on the princess."

Adrian stared at his brother for two seconds before leaning back to recline in his chair again. "Is that all?"

"No, that's not all! You're so callous about the way you treat her! Can't you see that you're hurting her all the time -- if not with your actions, then with your words?"

The heat in his brother's eyes made Luc very nervous. He took a deep breath and tried for a less confrontational tone.

"I'm just saying that maybe you should treat her a little better. None of this is her fault. Hell, she didn't even know all of this happened."

Adrian propped a booted foot on his knee. "So what're you saying? We should let her go?"

Luc shook his head. "No, that's not what I said. We need her; I know that. But we could always treat her a little better."

"She was born a princess, Luc. She expects to get her way. Are you saying that we should wait on her hand and foot? Isn't that ironic, considering that she is our captive?"

"No, that's not it. But the least we could do is not injure her."

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything we hadn't agreed to earlier."

Something seemed to explode within Luc. He stood, slamming his palms on the table. "You raped her, Adrian. I saw it! I saw her shaking her head at you but you went on anyway. I saw the blood on the damn sheets. She was a fucking virgin and you hurt her!"

"I gave her pleasure." Adrian's voice was soft, controlled.

Luc could've torn his hair out in frustration. "So what? That makes it right? It's all right to rape someone if they receive pleasure?"

Adrian stood swiftly and matched his brother's anger. "What the fuck do you want me to say, huh? That I feel like the lowest scum on earth for treating her that way? That I would never have taken her if I'd known I was her first? That her tears haunt me so badly that I can't go to sleep? What, Luc? What?"

"I didn't-."

"I know you didn't. Did you think I was some soulless bastard who liked to hurt women? Have I ever come off like that to you before?" He tried to take a deep, steadying breath. "What happened between the princess and I was a mistake. But there's nothing I can do to change that. Do you understand me?"

Adrian walked away. Lucio remained standing where he was, staring after his brother. Never in his life had Adrian seemed more upset.

*

He went straight to his mother's room. No one else went there these days. Most people said it gave them the creeps. But he found comfort in it.

The well-decorated room still held his mother's scent. A mixture of jasmine and the dark spice she used for her rituals. It soothed his soul and surrounded him like his mother's hugs.

He sat on her rocking chair, toying with the scrying glass he'd found in her room.

He was torn.

When the team first gathered a few months ago, they'd had a solid plan. Kidnap the girl, hold her hostage, get Augustine off the throne and get grandfather on it. Ironing out the details hadn't been simple, but they'd done it.

There had been a strict plan to follow. Everyone had a part to play and he was the one holding everything together. The men looked to him for instructions, and he had to remain their pillar of strength.

He could not fall apart. The success of this operation depended on it. He could not have his emotions simmering so close to the surface. It was unlike him to blow up at his brother like that. And over something so...

Insignificant.

Supposedly.

She was supposed to be the bait. The means to an end. But she was still a woman. And he knew he'd hurt her. He'd tried to forget it, to put her out of his mind. It had been a mistake, yes, but he needed to move on regardless.

So why was it that he couldn't stop thinking about her?

He closed his eyes, rocking back in the chair.

The image of her flooded his mind again. He could see her under him, her tear-stricken face looking at him with utter shock. It was as if she couldn't believe what he'd just done.

Honestly, he couldn't believe it either.

Never in his life had he taken a woman when she wasn't willing. Sure, he'd played twisted sexual games with his lovers where it seemed like they didn't want it, but were, in fact, begging for it.

But it was nothing like that with the princess. He'd been angry and he'd needed an outlet. It was almost a form of revenge. He was honest enough to admit that he'd wanted to hurt her for what her father had done. Scare her a little. That had been his intention when he'd walked into her room. But he hadn't meant to hurt her in quite that way.

In retrospect, he'd achieved his aim. Plan 2.4 had been carried out very smoothly. He should be congratulating himself on a job well done. But the success he felt was a hollow one.

He stood, catching a glimpse of himself in his mother's dressing mirror. He paused, staring at his reflection. The same dark jeans and sweater. The same neat haircut. The same diamond studs.

He looked like a stranger.

*

When the team met again half an hour later, Adrian seemed to have calmed down. Anger was replaced by a steely look of determination in his eyes.

"New message from Augustine," Luc announced, playing the audio clip that had been sent in.

"I want my daughter sent back to me within the next few hours. If you fail to do so, I will be referring you to the ICJ. I hold considerable power over them and I will see all of you and your bastard grandfather executed."

They had prepared for such circumstances in the planning stage. Adrian signaled to Bull who promptly left the room.

He returned minutes later with the princess in tow. Adrian took in her appearance. She looked much better than before; color was returning to her cheeks. She'd also changed into a fresh pair of shorts and a pink Ralph Lauren t-shirt. She held a hand to the taped bandage around her head, as though afraid that it might fall off.

"Have a seat." Adrian motioned to a chair next to him. She was hesitant, but she sat anyway, albeit at the edge of the seat.

She stared at him warily. Adrian knew that she was probably expecting some sort of punishment for her escape earlier. But he'd already decided that he wasn't going to do any such thing. He'd hurt her enough for a day.

He twirled his smartphone in his hand. "We received a message from your father earlier."

Hope and fear warred in her eyes. "Is he coming to get me?" she asked, her voice soft.

Adrian shook his head. "He wants to send the tape to the ICJ to have us all executed. We've already warned him that should he proceed to the authorities, we're going to send the tape to all major entertainment shows in the world."

He waited for her to respond, to plead with him not to send it off like she'd done the last time, but she remained silent, simply staring at the polished wood in front of her.

"There is one way you can stop this."

She turned to look at him. "What?"

"Speak to your father. Warn him not to go to the ICJ."

"But-."

"Here is what you should say," Lucio continued, sliding his palmtop toward her. She scanned through it quickly. It was a short message, crisp and to the point.

Adrian dialed the number and passed the phone to her. The ringing echoed through the room and she realized that everyone was going to be able to hear her conversation. Her hands were trembling. She didn't want to face her father after that video...  

She recognized her father's voice when he picked up. Adrian had dialed his private number; very few people were privy to that number. Tressa wasn't surprised that he'd managed to retrieve it.

"Daddy?" she said, her voice quavering.

"Tressa? Tressa, my daughter, is that you?" His voice was hoarse with worry.

"Yes, it's me. I-I need to tell you something."

"Are you all right? Did they hurt you? I'll see them hung for this!"

"No, they haven't hu- I'm ok." She snuck at look at Lucio, who motioned to her 'script'.

"Um, daddy, please don't do anything rash. They are going to send the t-tape to entertainment shows worldwide if you report them to the ICJ. I don't think I can stand the humiliation."

As she spoke, tears welled in her eyes. She turned away from the room so that no one would watch her if she began crying.

"Please, just give them what they want."

"What they want?" her father's voice was incredulous. "What they want is my throne, dear girl."

She looked down at the script. "Am I not worth that, daddy?"

There was a silence at the other end of the line. Then, Augustine asked, "Where are they keeping you?"

Tressa blinked, letting her father's response sink in. Had her father just avoided the question?

"Am I not worth your throne, daddy?" she repeated, quietly this time.

"Daughter, I don't have time for this. Tell me where they're keeping you!"

Her heart felt like it was being torn apart. Had her father just admitted that she wasn't worth giving up his throne for? It was a difficult pill for her to swallow.

He'd once told her that he'd do anything for her. Apparently, those had just been words.

She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I don't know," she stammered, and it was the truth. She had no clue as to where they were.

"Damn it, girl, give me something to work with!" her father shouted into the phone. "Did the bastard really touch you?"

Her cheeks burned in humiliation. "I- daddy, he-."

Before she could even think of a response, the phone was snatched from her hands.

Adrian spoke lowly into it. Tressa didn't even bother to eavesdrop. She was in too much pain. Her head throbbed but the pain in her heart overshadowed even that. Never in her life had she thought her father would respond like that to such a question. She'd been her daddy's only girl, and he'd pampered her with love and affection from the time she could remember. She had simply assumed he'd give up anything to keep her safe. Apparently not.

She stood and walked out of the room. Someone was following her, but she didn't care. She just didn't want to stand in front of them anymore. It was too humiliating. She'd boasted to all of them that her daddy would do anything to get her back, but she'd been so very wrong.

Tears were pouring down her cheeks by the time she entered her room. When she sat on the bed, her tears turned into full-blown sobs. She'd never felt as hopeless and helpless in her life as she did then.

Worst of all, she felt alone. Desolate. She'd depended on her father to get her out of this mess, but now it seemed that he would not. Was she going to die surrounded by people who hated her?

She buried her head into a pillow and cried.

*

It was midnight when she finally dragged herself out of bed. She was so tired of crying, so tired of pitying herself. It was pathetic. More so when she realized that they could probably see her crying through the camera in the room.




St. Vicente Ch. 02



But she couldn't care less. Her father, her only hope, had as good as deserted her. She didn't know whom else to turn to. Her captors wouldn't release her until they had her father's throne. They were too determined and their plans were very well thought through.

She sighed to herself as she gathered her clothes for a quick shower.

Her head wound no longer throbbed. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, she gently peeled the bandage off. There was little damage, she could see now. Just a long scratch that disappeared into her hairline. It would heal, just like the wound on her cheek.

Slowly, so as not to jar her bruises, she took off her top and shorts and hung it on a hook behind the door. Clad in just her underwear, she took inventory of the black-and-blue discoloring on her body. They didn't hurt, really. They just looked bad.

She turned this way and that, checking her body for any other changes. It looked like she'd lost weight, but she wasn't too sure. Her butt looked a little smaller, too, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Her entire body felt different. She knew why. It was because of him. Because of that night. It had lasted no more than thirty minutes, but she still felt a little sore. Her nipples kinda ached in a weird way and her pussy lips felt slightly... looser. And the feel of him inside her had been so... pleasurable. Filling. But she promised herself that she wasn't going to think about that.

Willing that thought from her mind, she shrugged off her undies, tied her hair into a knot and stepped into the shower.

*

Adrian could see the wheels turning in her head as she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. She was thinking about something. Her forehead was creased in concentration. Yet, she wasn't speaking to herself as she usually did, so he couldn't figure out what was on her mind.

Then she sighed and reached back to pull off her bra. He felt his throat dry up as she shrugged off the practical t-shirt bra to reveal those beautiful dark globes he'd had his hands on the night before. They were natural, he knew, a rarity to him. And soft. So very, very soft.

Her nipples were already peaked -- perhaps from the chill in the bathroom -- and they made him think of dark chocolate chips. When she reached down to pull off her matching panties, he couldn't help but stare at her generous bottom. He hadn't gotten a chance to fully appreciate it the night before, but as she leaned into the shower to adjust the water temperature, she gave him a very thorough look.

He thought he heard his zipper creak in the silent surveillance room. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was teasing him. As it was, she still didn't know they'd hidden a camera in her bathroom, so she probably wasn't putting on a show just for him.

She stepped into the shower and sighed like a little kitten once the water hit her body. The little noise seemed to shoot straight to his dick. Then she reached for the soap and began lathering her body.

Her movement was practical, economical. The first night, she'd told him that she didn't believe in long showers. Now he found that it was true. She lathered her body quickly but thoroughly and rinsed it off. Then she adjusted the water temperature and gave her intimate areas a quick rinse as well.

The room was steamy as she got out of the shower. She toweled off and slipped into her nightclothes much too quickly for Adrian's liking. Then, within minutes, the lights were off and she was stretching between the covers, trying to get comfortable.

He listened as she said a little prayer and promptly fell asleep.

He zoomed the camera in, watching her features as they relaxed in sleep. She sighed, rubbing a rounded cheek into the pillow.

He was developing a soft spot for her, he knew. Though that was a contradiction, considering the hard bump in his pants.

It was a guilt thing. He wanted to make up for his mistake. He knew he could never give her back what she'd lost, but the least he could do was try to make the situation easier for her.

It wasn't much of a bargain, really. But it was a start.

Luc would be proud of him.

*

He was making himself a cup of coffee the next morning when she began shouting at the camera. Apparently, she'd found the little camera they'd built into the ceiling.

"Lucio! Are you there?"

She waved her hands, trying to get someone's attention. He frowned, wondering why she'd want to speak to his brother. Then she answered his unspoken question.

"I have some questions. About the St. Vicente history? If you're there, please come down here!"

He beeped for Bull to take over before heading to his brother's room. When no one answered his knocks, he strode in, not at all surprised to find their little maid snuggled up in his brother's arms.

He tapped Luc on the shoulder to wake him.

"What?" Luc snapped when he saw Adrian's form leaning over his bed. He was still pissed with his brother for the way he was treating the princess.

"The princess wants to speak to you."

"What? Why?" Luc asked, sitting up.

"She has questions about the St. Vicente past." Adrian turned away as his brother got out of bed and threw his clothes on.

As he pulled on his shirt, Lucio asked, "What do you want me to tell her?"

Adrian turned back and looked his brother in the eye. "The truth." Then he walked out of the room.

Lucio took three steps in Adrian's path before scurrying back to the bed and placing a kiss on Marcie's forehead. Then, he hurried after his brother.

*

"You wanted to speak to me?" he asked as he stepped into the room.

She stood when she saw him. "Yes, I do." She gestured for him to have a seat on the bed.

"What would you like to know?" he asked, making himself comfortable.

She remained standing, pacing the length of the room.

"When I was brought here, you told me that my father's monarchy has tampered with the history books. Is that correct?"

Luc nodded. "Yes."

"Exactly how did they tamper with it?"

"Why would you like to know now?" he asked.

She swallowed. "Because yesterday, I feel like I might have seen another side of my father. Something I've never seen before. And maybe, just maybe..."

"He could be the monster we're telling you he is?"

Tressa remained silent.

Luc spoke again. "Do you want the details or the summary?"

"Details."

He nodded, scooting backwards and leaning against the headboard. "Ok, let's do it this way. Tell me what you know of the history and I'll correct you along the way."

Tressa nodded. "Ok. King Sergei abdicated in 1981 because the people-."

Luc held up a hand. "Let's stop you right there. My grandfather didn't abdicate willingly. Your father threatened to blow up the island if my grandfather didn't do so immediately. Grandfather didn't have a choice."

"What? That's just ridiculous!" Tressa said, putting her hands on her hips. "It's like something out of a drama series."

"Oh, it gets a lot better," Luc said, crossing his legs. "Back then, there used to be a courthouse next to the palace. To exemplify that he wasn't kidding around with his demand, your father blew it up during one of the court sessions."

Tressa narrowed her eyes at Luc. "You really expect me to believe that?"

Luc shrugged. "You wanted the answers, princess."

"Is there any evidence of this alleged bombing?"

"Nothing on paper, I'm afraid."

Tressa scoffed.

"But you might want to talk to Bull. His father died in the explosion."

"What? You're kidding!" Her eyes widened.

"I wish I were. But Bull lost his father that day. I wouldn't joke about that."

Tressa took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Ok. The books say it was a citizen-led demonstration against-."

"Not citizen-led, but army-led. Your father used to be the General, did you know that?"

Tressa nodded.

"Well, he brainwashed the army men into thinking they'd be better off with a different ruler. Grandfather was soft, you see. He was a politician, a diplomat, not a fighter. The soldiers looked up to your father because he was stronger and skilled in combat. They thought he'd make a better king. Your father promised the soldiers many privileges if they made him king.

"So on March 17, 1981, the soldiers led a demonstration in the city center, calling for the abdication of the king. Grandfather said no, that the whole situation was preposterous. That only made things worse.

"To prove that that they were serious, they bombed the courthouse. After that, all hell broke loose. There were citizens fighting the soldiers. People being shot in the street. It was chaos. Grandfather is a man of peace, and he could not stand to witness such violence. He already had to suffer the pain of losing both his sons. So he abdicated and left the island."

Tressa sat heavily on the bed, trying to take the info in.

"Even if all this was true, why are you trying to claim the island now? It's been 30 years. My father is king now."

"30 years does not bury injustice, princess." His voice had become cold.

"But the people are happy now. Shouldn't you-."

"Happy?" Luc scoffed, getting to his feet. "Our people are starving. They're living in conditions worse than the slums in India. Their lives are hell!"

"How do you...?"

"Have you ever been to the countryside before?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Why not?"

"There was just never an occasion to do so."

"Because your father doesn't want you to see the degradation the countryside is in. He doesn't want you to question him."

"I-I don't know what to say. I-."

Before she could finish her sentence, a sharp, piercing bell rang three times. In her five days there, she hadn't heard anything like it.

"Fuck!" Luc cursed, digging into his pocket for his phone. "Tressa, pack. Now. Hurry!"

He spoke into the phone. "No, she's packing. Tell Bull to get Marcie. You get grandfather." Pause. "How many minutes?" Pause. "I'll meet you at the jet. What? Fuck! Ok, ok. The yacht. I'll start it up."

Tressa was already throwing clothes into her bag. "What? What's the matter?"

"It's an emergency. We have to leave now."

Luc grabbed her bag before she could pack the last of her stuff. She found herself being dragged out of the room. She ran behind Luc as he moved to the back of the house.

They scurried down a flight of stairs and into a back garden. The fence around them was all covered with moss. There didn't seem to be a way out of there until Luc pushed aside a neat bush and keyed in a code. Something in the moss fence made a clicking sound and Luc pushed it outward.

Then they were running into a forest. She hadn't realized that the house was surrounded by it. The dense growth seemed to go on forever, and Luc simply pulled her behind him, dodging low-hanging branches and fallen logs.

They finally made it to a clearing. It was a docking bay, but only one boat stood there, bobbing in the shallow water.

"Get on it!" Luc shouted. She raced toward it and jumped in. She landed on her knees, and as she stood up, her bag came hurtling over and hit her in the face, knocking her down again.

"Sorry!" Luc shouted, not bothering to stop as he raced to start the engine.

Bull climbed on board next, carrying the little housemaid wrapped up in bedsheets. She could see Adrian in the distance, carrying his grandfather and running towards the boat. Her heart swelled at that sight, despite her hatred of him. Adrian's action spoke of his love for his grandfather. It was a very honorable gesture.

Bull helped Adrian get his grandfather on board the boat. Then, he too, climbed on, shouting, "Go, go, go!"

The boat seemed to roar to life and they sped away from the dock.

It was just in time. Two seconds later, she was pushed onto her back by a violent gust of hot wind. A loud boom in the distance made her cover her ears. To her shock, she watched as splinters of the house flew everywhere before it was engulfed in flames.

It was a hypnotizing sight. She watched as the flames grew, emitting smoke and ash into the air. Everything she'd known for the past five days had been destroyed. Even her Mac, which she'd forgotten to pack.

Even as that piece of info sunk in, she couldn't get over one tiny fact.

She could've been in that house when the bomb went off.

*

They left her alone. None of them wanted to speak to her when she was crying like a baby.

She sat on the cushioned seats near the bow, looking out into the sea. It seemed endless to her. Just miles and miles of water. The middle of nowhere. If they killed her out here, no one would know.

And the worst part was that she wouldn't mind being killed. The little hope she had of being rescued was gone. She wasn't worth anything to them now anyway. Her own father had tried to kill her.

That was the bottom line. Her father, the only man she'd loved in the world, had tried to kill her. It was against everything she believed in, everything she knew, everything she understood. It made her think that perhaps, what Lucio had told her about the St. Vicente history was true...

It was nearing dusk when a gruff voice said, "Eat."

She turned to find Adrian standing a few feet away with a plate in his hand. She looked away quickly and shook her head.

"You haven't eaten at all today. Come on, princess. If we need to make another run for it, you need your strength."

She didn't bother turning back to him this time. "I'm not hungry."

He sighed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She shot him an odd look for saying something so out of character. The leader of the rebels did not enquire about his captive's problems.

"No, tell me," he prodded.

"Why would you ask me such a question when you've completely turned my life around?" she snarled.

"I haven't turned it around. I've just borrowed it for a few weeks. You'll have it back once grandfather's on the throne."

"That's not what I meant!" she snapped. She stood and paced. "Today, who bombed the house?"

"If you don't know the answer, princess, I'm afraid you're not as bright as you claimed to be," he replied, reclining nonchalantly on the seat.

"Just answer the damn question."

"Your father," he said simply.

"How could he do that?" she shouted. "He knew I'd be in there. He knew you had me captive. How could he risk killing me too?"

"He's a bastard."

"He's my father!" she cried, more tears welling in her eyes. "He loves me. I'm his only daughter. He's given me everything I ever wanted. He calls me 'his precious baby girl'. He's supposed to love and protect me! Why would he try to kill me?"

She covered her face in her hands. The pain was too much. She could not believe that someone she loved had betrayed her so thoroughly. Her father, her own blood. It was much more than she could bear.

She felt arms enclosing her. Just for a moment, she let herself be held, needing the comfort. But when she looked up and saw Adrian's face, she pushed away violently.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted, wiping her tears away.

He looked bewildered. "Comforting you."

She laughed bitterly. "Ha! Really? Comforting me? After all you've done, you want to comfort me?"

He looked away from her.

"What? Got nothing to say?"

"No. I won't justify my actions."

"Because you can't justify it!"

He shook his head. "You're right. I can't."

His easy acquiescence took the wind out of her sails. A little. "Then why did you do it?" There was no question as to what she was referring to.

He slid his hands into his pockets. "There's very little we could do with a female captive. It was either that or cut off a part of your anatomy and send it to your father."

"W-what?" she stammered.

"Aren't you glad we chose the first plan instead?" he said with a smirk that enraged her.

"You're sick!" she screamed, shoving him back a step. "You're a sick, perverted freak!"

"Is that the best you've got, princess?"

She snarled at him, finally reaching boiling point. She stalked towards him, tilting her head all the way up so that she could look him in the eye when she cursed him.

"You are a depraved, mendacious, motherfucking monster." She jabbed him hard in the chest with each curse. "And an asshole of the first degree. I hate the thought that you ever touched me, you filthy bas-."

She let out a loud squeal when he pressed his lips against hers. It was a fierce kiss, with him holding the back of her head in place with both his hands. She pushed at him with her hands, cursing into his mouth, but he didn't seem affected by anything she did. He probably thought he could make her give in this way.

Well, it was just too bad for him that she had no intention of giving in. Not this time.

She tried to scratch him, but he was wearing full sleeves. And her body was pressed to close for her to jam her knee into his crotch again.

She settled for pounding her fists into his chest, hoping she'd break a rib and it would crush his lungs and kill him.

"Adrian!"

The sharp new voice had him breaking the kiss. He looked up to see his brother standing on the deck with his arms crossed.

She didn't care who the fuck it was who'd seen them. Her attention was focused on the man in front of her who had the audacity to manhandle her that way after everything he'd done to her! She was through behind pushed around.

As he looked away, she shoved him back, thinking to put a little space between them.

One second he was standing in front of her, and the next, he was falling off the side of the boat.

Shock paralyzed her so badly that she stood there with her hands over her mouth, not daring to peek over the railing. She could hear Luc cursing as he rushed to stop the boat.

Hearing the commotion, Bull came onto the deck to investigate. Her eyes were wide when they met his. She still could not move; she was too afraid to. Jesus, had she killed him?

A few seconds later, they heard a thump on the back of the boat and Adrian pulled himself out of the water. She watched as he climbed over the railing, dripping saltwater everywhere. He was drenched through.

He glared at her as he made his way below deck to get himself cleaned up.

Her eyes met Bull's again as the boat started up. His expression told her that he was impressed.

She let out a breath. Well, so was she.

*

"What kind of game are you playing, Adrian?" Luc asked as his brother stepped out of the bathroom in dry clothing.

"What do you mean?" the older brother asked, letting the door slam shut.

"With Tressa. I saw you kissing her up there." He gestured to the deck. "What kind of game are you playing with her?"

Adrian pushed past his brother and stepped into the galley. "What makes you think it's a game?"

Luc put a hand on his brother's shoulder to get his attention. "Are you telling me you have feelings for her?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he replied, shrugging his brother off.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

Adrian reached into the bread bin for a loaf of pre-packaged bread. They always kept the yacht stocked in case of emergencies.

As he took out four slices and laid them on a plate, he said, "I'm not going to hurt her Luc. You don't have to worry."

Luc's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Physically or emotionally?"

Adrian met his brother's stare. "Both."

Luc sighed. "I know your taste in women. And the princess is definitely not it. What's going on? Are you suddenly attracted to her after you called her a chubby little spoiled brat when we first saw her?"

Adrian grimaced, hating his words being thrown back at him. He turned to his brother.

"Look, I'm just trying to make things right."

"Right? How could you possibly make it right?" Luc's voice told him exactly how ridiculous he thought the notion was.




St. Vicente Ch. 03



There you go! For your pleasure.

Just a note: please do not leave a comment if it's going to be about the number of weeks it'll take for a typhoid shot to actually work. I did my research. I know.

Other than that, knock yourselves out! (:

Much love xx

*

She started when the door to the cabin opened, though she shouldn't have been surprised. She'd been expecting his visit for hours now. She didn't think she could get away with what she'd done to him, accident or not.

Adrian stepped in and shut the door. The lock turned with an ominous click.

It reminded her of the other night. The night when he'd barged into her room, slid a hand to her throat and tried to choke her to death. The night when he'd raped her and taped himself doing it.

She'd been so scared then. She'd backed away as he walked toward her. But not this time. No, she was tired of being afraid of him. She'd seen the worst he could do, and honestly, it wasn't as bad as she'd imagined.

"What?" she asked, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing up. She wanted to be on her feet when she faced him. It would give her the leverage she needed if she had to defend herself.

He didn't move from his position in front of the door. He simply stared at her, his eyes moving appreciatively over her body, taking in her shorts and tank. She frowned. She knew for a fact that he wasn't attracted to her. So why did he stare at her that way? Was it just to make her uncomfortable?

She crossed her arms over her chest. Well, if that was his goal, he wasn't going to succeed.

"Did you come in here just to stare at me?"

The anger in her voice made his eyes rise to meet hers. As she stood there glaring at him, he realized something belatedly.

"You're not afraid of me."

Her spine straightened. "You're damn right I'm not."

The change was impressive. Just a day ago, she'd sat trembling in a chair, not wanting to meet his eyes. And now she was trying to stare him down with those exotic brown orbs. She was challenging him. It heated his blood.

"Why?" he asked, mirroring her stance and leaning against the door.

She flicked her hair out of her eyes. "'Cause I realized that fear was the only power you had over me. I was afraid of what you could do to me if I didn't listen to you." She smiled, but it was sad. "But I think I've already been through the worst."

Adrian felt his throat dry up, though he didn't show any outward sign that her words had affected him. "You're still alive."

"There are some things worse than death. But I doubt you'd understand that. Nothing you do now could be worse than the other night."

He stared at her for a long while and she stared back unflinchingly. She wanted to show him that she wouldn't be taking any shit from him. Not anymore.

But when he began pulling his shirt off, she took an involuntary step back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. He flung his shirt away and unbuttoned his jeans.

"What the hell-."

Clad in black boxer-briefs, he motioned with both hands for her to come over.

"Give me your best shot."

She stood where she was, trying her very best not to let her eyes run down the length of his body. She'd always been an admirer of the male physique and it was tough for her not to indulge herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for control. Remember who he is and what he's done, she told herself.

"What do you mean?" she asked a moment later, trying for a reasonable tone.

"What I mean is that you've been giving me way too much shit about that night. It was my job to do it, do you understand that? It was a fixed plan. We all vowed to follow it through to a T."

She was outraged. "What kind of miserable bas-."

He held up a hand.

"And I'm sick of hearing about how I manipulated you, how I used you, how I forced you. I can't deny that I did those things, but I did not enjoy it." He took a deep breath, as though he was bracing himself. "So now I'm gonna give you a chance to let it all go."

She took another involuntary step backward, hitting the bedside table and knocking over a lamp. "You're going to kill me?"

He swore under his breath, raising a hand to his hair agitatedly. "No, god damnit. I want you to take it out on me. Vent your frustration. Let the anger loose because I'm fucking sick of hearing the same shit from you over and over again."

"You actually think that I'll forgive you if you let me hit you?" she scoffed.

"No," he admitted. "But it'll be a start."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hit you. Violence solves nothing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Come on, do it."

"No."

"Do it."

"No!"

"Do it!"

"I said no! God!"

He smiled at her wolfishly. "Come on, princess. I know you want to."

She threw the lamp at him. And the remote control. And the several books that were on the nightstand. They hit his head, his chest, his arms. But he stood there, simply taking it.

God, it felt good.

She slid onto the bed and grabbed the pillows, flinging them at him. But it wasn't enough. It didn't feel like enough. She wanted to hurt him. Really hurt him.

She jumped off the bed, thinking in the back of her mind that she probably looked like a crazed person. But she didn't care.

She grabbed him by his neck, pushing him against the door. He was so much bigger than her that she had to use both hands. All the better to squeeze with, my dear, she thought.

She wanted to choke the life out of him. She wanted to see his eyes flicker in defeat like hers had. She wanted to see him struggle to get air into his lungs. She wanted him to suffer.

But no matter how hard she choked him, he seemed to be taking it well. The color left his face, but he managed to remain upright, his breath wheezing from mouth. Damn it, she just didn't have the strength to choke the man properly!

Far from giving up, she punched him in the stomach with all the strength she could muster. He double over and she pushed him to the floor, straddling him.

Now her violence had some audio accompaniment.

"Son of a bitch! You think you can get away with raping me? I don't think so!"

She grabbed him by his hair again and shoved his head onto the parquet flooring. A loud, satisfying thud echoed through the room. She repeated the move several times until she was out of breath.

But she didn't give up. She raked her nails down his torso, watching as red lines formed on his skin. She wished she had claws so she could pierce through his skin and do much more damage.

When she was through making him look like a candycane, she pounded on his chest. Each punch made a loud hollow noise, increasing her satisfaction.

When she was truly out of breath, she sat back, admiring her handiwork.

He opened his eyes. "You done?"

She flicked her fringe off her sweat-soaked forehead. "For now."

She was still sitting on him with her legs spread on either side of him. His entire body ached from the assault but he couldn't get his mind off the fact that she was perched on him cowgirl style. Her forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat and her eyes were bright with satisfaction. He could feel the silky skin of her inner thighs pressed against his waist, teasing him. And that smile -- she was smiling down at him triumphantly -- made his breath catch.

Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd had sex two days ago, even if it hadn't been the best. It should've taken the edge off. Cleared his mind. Quenched the thirst. So why couldn't he stop thinking about this girl in a sexual way?

All he wanted to do was pull those damn shorts off her, roll her under his body and thrust into her hard, over and over again, until she screamed in his ear and clung to him for more.

But he wouldn't do it. He couldn't. If it happened, he'd call it desire while she'd call it rape. One black mark on his soul was enough. He didn't think he could handle the guilt of another mistake.

She looked down at him, wiping the layer of sweat from her forehead. He looks like a wreck, she thought. Yet, despite that, he smiled at her. "You dish it well."

He sat up slowly, bringing them almost nose-to-nose.

He was suddenly too close. Tressa wasn't comfortable with his nearness. Or with his smile. His voice had been soft, intimate and the timber of it seemed to reverberate through her. She wanted to pull back, to run. But she promised herself she wouldn't run, and she wasn't going to.

"Well, you deserve it," she murmured, feeling spurts of adrenaline belatedly pumping through her as she struggled to sit still.

Her breath was still coming out in short bursts, brushing against his lips. His eyes dropped to admire the fullness of hers, glistening as she ran her tongue over them. God, they looked so succulent, so sweet, so damned tempting.

He would've taken advantage of the situation had he known that similar thoughts flew through her mind. She was just a woman; she couldn't help but admire the strong set of his jaw, the sultry fringe of his lashes bordering navy blue eyes, especially since he was so close to her. He had no flaws, as far as she could see. But he was far from perfect.

She'd never been this close to a man before. All her suitors had been too scared of her father to make an advance. They usually preferred a quick kiss on the hand or a peck on the cheek. No one had taken as much advantage of her as this man had. Part of her hated that he'd taken too much advantage and caused her so much pain. But the other part of her knew that she couldn't have found anyone more handsome to do so.

Adrian's eyes rose back to hers. There was something different in that look. Something new. Foreign. He blinked when he recognized it as desire. He'd be damned if there wasn't. It might be an aftereffect of the violence, but the bottom line was that she desired him. After everything he'd done, she still desired him. The thought of it enflamed him and he hardened instantly.

She gasped as her seat suddenly became a little more uncomfortable. She could feel the hardness through his boxer briefs, making her react in the worst way.

He leaned in close, so close that she could taste his breath on her tongue. He hovered there for an eternity, his eyes never leaving hers, giving her ample opportunity to pull away.

Then slowly, hesitantly, he pressed his lips to hers.

It was slow. It was wet. It was sweet. His lips slid over hers repeatedly, capturing her sulky bottom lip and suckling it between them. His tongue slid out, tracing the shapely curve before tentatively touching hers. She trembled on his lap, reaching up to put her hand on his...

"Adrian?" Luc's voice was like a bucket of ice water over her head. She pulled away quickly, standing up. Her body was still trembling but she refused to acknowledge it. Dear god, what had she done?

"Adrian! Are you in there? Grandfather needs to speak to you."

Adrian looked up at the princess. She looked distraught, as though she'd committed a vile sin. Sinful though it might have felt, it certainly hadn't been vile. In fact, the taste of her in his mouth was like honey.

But it looked like he wouldn't be getting any other kind of honey tonight.

"I'll be right there," he called to his brother and reached for his clothes.

She turned away as he dressed. She couldn't bear to look at him and face what she'd almost done. How had she lost control like that? How had he made her feel that way?

When the door clicked shut, she moved over to the bed and sat on it heavily.

She needed to pull herself together. Just one kiss and she was falling apart in his arms? What the hell was that?

He was the man who'd raped her. She had to remember that fact. The man who'd taken her virginity from her and taped it all. Nothing he did could make her forgive him.

He was a hateful, perverted bastard. She should hate him with all her being. She did hate him... didn't she?

She groaned. It was all muddled now. Everything had been so clear to her before he'd kissed her so tenderly. Now all she could think about was the taste of him on her tongue. The feel of his lips. The image of his body, almost naked and pinned under her.

God, she was in a lot of trouble.

*

Marcie stood in the shower, her forehead laid against the cool tile. She couldn't wrap her head around the events of the day. It had happened too quickly. One moment, she was being picked out of bed entirely nude by Bull, and the next, the house had been blown up.

It had all been too much like a dream. She needed to find her center again.

She gasped when hands encircled her from behind, but stopped struggling when she recognized the feel of his body. A smile overtook her lips instead, and she relaxed against him.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked her, clasping his hands around her waist.

"Everything," she murmured, turning a little so she could look into his eyes. "It all happened so fast."

He rested his chin on her forehead. "Yes, it did."

They stood in the shower for several minutes, simply letting the water cascade down their bodies.

Then she turned, cupping his cheek and looking deep into his eyes. She wanted to be able to read his emotions when she asked the next question. "Why did you save me today?"

He looked taken aback. "Why not?"

She bit her lip. "I'm not important. Just your housemaid. I'm only someone you pay for sex, Lucio." Her eyes searched his with hopeful intensity.

He swallowed. What did she mean? Was she asking if she meant more to him than just that? Did she want to mean more to him?

"Marcie, I..." He paused, not knowing what to say.

"You what?" she asked, her brows wrinkling.

"I..."

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't have the words. Marcie continued to look at him expectantly. She felt like her life hung on his next words.

He tilted her head to his, cupping her cheeks in his hands. The intensity of his eyes made her breath hitch. Her fingers came up to grasp his as his lips caressed hers. Smooth and light. Clinging. Willing her to respond. Marcie didn't know what to think. What did this mean?

Soon, everything stopped mattering. Nothing but his kiss, his hands, his scent, his feel, seemed to matter. When she was in his arms, it seemed as though no words were necessary between them.

If only that were true when they were apart.

*

Grandfather did not look good. His complexion had a grey cast to it and his breathing was none too steady. He looked weak when he motioned Adrian over to his bedside.

"My boy, what is your plan?" he asked, his voice raspy. It was nearly 12, way past his usual bedtime.

Adrian knelt beside the bed, clasping his hands together.

"We're going to St. Vicente."

At Sergei's soft gasp, Adrian reached out to hold the old man's hand. "It's the safest place for us now. Augustine is maximizing his security to look out for his daughter. By now, he should know that she escaped the bomb and must be dispatching more men to search the surrounding grounds. The best thing we could do now is hide under his nose. He'll never find us there."

Grandfather's eyes closed, and for a moment, Adrian thought he had fallen asleep. After a few seconds, they flickered open again. "Yes," he replied. "It's a good plan. I have some contacts you could call, Adrian."

Adrian already knew about his grandfather's contacts; it was part of his research. In fact, he'd managed to trace the coast guard, Alex, from his grandfather's extensive stories of his loyal supporters. Despite already having the info, he let his grandfather talk, knowing the old man liked to do so if the topic was about St. Vicente and his loyal men.

Soon, Sergei fell asleep and Adrian tucked the loose covers around him, knowing that the temperature would drop at the dead of the night. Grandfather suffered from arthritis and it would not help the situation if the cold air got to his bones.

Adrian closed the door to the bedroom with a soft click. He turned in the direction of the deck, thinking of getting some air, when he saw a shadow moving in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow, walking towards it to investigate.

Tressa stood bent over the kitchen counter, bopping up and down on her heels. The position put her ass in the air, and he paused to admire the view. She was faced away from him but her voice sounded irritated when she whispered, "God damnit."

"Why?"

She stiffened at his voice but turned towards him slowly.

"Nothing," she said, breathless, wary.

He crossed his arms. "Why are you in here?"

"I, um," she rocked back on her heels, "I'm just waiting for the bathroom."

He gave her an odd look. "In here?" The bathroom was opposite the kitchen, not in it.

She nodded.

"You do know that the bathroom's there, right?" He pointed to the small door nearby.

"Yes, but it's occupied."

"By who?" He made to knock on the bathroom door, but she called out and stopped him.

He waited for an explanation.

"Marcie and Lucio are in there," she said in a stage whisper.

"So?"

"They're... you know." She raised her eyebrows for dramatic effect.

"Fucking?" he asked, loving the way she averted her eyes shyly. If she were any fairer, her cheeks would be blossoming with color. "For how long?"

"About half an hour," she said, hopping lightly on the balls on her feet.

"Then they're probably done already." He raised his hand to knock again, but she stopped him, hissing, "You're not supposed to do that!"

"Not supposed to do what?" he asked, baffled.

"Disturb a couple making love. It's not good, like waking a sleeping baby."

He rolled his eyes at her absurd logic and knocked anyway.

When Luc answered, he asked his brother to vacate the bathroom ASAP. Luc grumbled, but complied once Adrian explained why.

Tressa entered the bathroom so quickly that the door almost caught Marcie's foot as she shut it.

On the other side of the door, Adrian heard her relief-filled sigh of 'oh my god' and grinned, shaking his head.

*

She finally fell asleep on the settee in the corridor around dawn. She'd been restless all night, pacing. Her life was quite literally, in shambles. She had nothing left. Everything she had before was linked to her father. She wanted nothing of it now. What he'd done was unforgivable. She wouldn't be able to look at him without watching the house blow up at the back of her mind.

She needed a new plan, but she didn't know where to start. She had no money of her own, nobody she could trust. She had no credentials except for her degree. As a 23-year-old, she knew it wasn't much. God, where could she go? What could she do?

She fell asleep troubled by those thoughts.

When she awoke, the boat was still. She sat up slowly, wondering where everybody was. She couldn't hear anybody moving around, despite the silence.

Quietly, she made her way up to the deck.

They were docked at a small port. Little shops lined the street opposite her, selling various fishing equipment. There was little crowd. Only two other boats were parked near them. Where were they?

She moved nearer to the stern, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the place.

"I wouldn't go much further," a voice warned from behind her.

She whirled around instantly, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Bull. Jesus, she hadn't even heard him walking around.

"You scared me," she told him, raising a hand to her chest.

"I know," he returned with a ghost of a smile.

"So where are we?" she asked, trying to get her heartbeat under control.

"We're just picking up supplies."

She raised an eyebrow at his evasion. "Yes, but where exactly?"

He shrugged. "It's not important. Would you like some breakfast?"

She put her hands on her hips. "What do you have against telling me? It's not like I can inform anyone else of our location. Do you see a wire on me? A camera? A goddamn phone?"




St. Vicente Ch. 03



His voice was as professional as ever. "It's just safety procedure, princess."

She scoffed. "Right. Even if you told me where we were, do you actually think I could run away? I have no money. I have nothing. I can't even run back to my father!"

He said nothing, simply staring down at her. That only seemed to rile her more.

"This is all your fault!" she accused, stabbing him with her finger. It hurt, but she didn't care. "If you and your stupid friends hadn't kidnapped me, I would've been happy! Safe! Not running around on some boat in the middle of nowhere!"

He looked down at the finger she was trying to grind into his chest. "You would be happy living with a father who would kill you to save his throne?"

She looked taken aback by his words. Then she attacked again. "Ignorance is bliss."

"If you say so," he demurred, then changed the subject. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No, I won't!" she snarled. "Stop asking me that!"

"You haven't eaten for an entire day, princess."

"Ok, look," she said, trying to calm herself, "I don't think it's appropriate for you to call me princess anymore. Just call me Tressa."

He shrugged.

"And as for your offer to feed me, I think it's unnecessary. We both know that you'd kill me in a second if you were given the chance, so why bother to act like you care whether or not I starve?"

This time, Bull frowned. She was more surprised than she would care to admit to see an actual emotion on his perpetual poker face.

"I have orders not to hurt you."

She rolled her eyes. "That's very funny, considering what's already gone down." She pushed past him and made for the stairs.

Bull watched her go, still frowning. He'd never wanted to hurt her, but he didn't think she would understand that. He was still the enemy in her eyes.

Tressa descended the stairs, thinking to use the bathroom to wash up. But as she entered the corridor, an irresistible smell wafted to her. She took tentative steps to the kitchen and peeked in.

On the dining table was a tall plate of strawberry pancakes and a sweating jar of maple syrup. Her mouth watered at the sight. Strawberry pancakes. Her favorite. How had he known? Is that why he kept asking her if she'd like anything to eat?

She didn't know why, but her eyes quickly began filling with tears. Ah, god. Why was she becoming emotional for every little thing? Something was definitely wrong with her.

She turned to hide in the bathroom to wipe her tears away, but she hit something solid and bounced off it. Through her tear-filled eyes, she looked up at Bull, who looked very concerned.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, obviously confused.

"I...you...the..." But she couldn't finish her sentence. She chose to duck into the bathroom instead.

*

It was mid-afternoon when Adrian returned with his brother and Marcie. They hauled supplies onto the yacht, taking care not to bruise the delicate merchandise.

They'd been contacted by Julian Merino, grandfather's ex-financial advisor, about an outbreak of typhoid fever in the fishermen's colony. Apparently, it had taken root a few weeks back and was killing at least one person everyday. The cause, of course was the unclean drinking water that the colony tapped on because they had no other option.

Thus, Adrian had contacted a friend from University and asked him to ship a large amount of Typhoid vaccines to the port they were making a stop at. It was imperative that they got help to the people as soon as possible.

As he lugged cases of drinking water onto the yacht, he made sure he shut down his palmtop and mobile device. He didn't want Augustine's men tracking him down like they'd done the last time. He'd changed his number since then, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Is that the last of it?" Bull asked, poking his head out from below.

Adrian nodded, handing him the last box. Marcie exited grandfather's room as Bull walked away to store the box.

"How's he doing?" Adrian asked her.

"He's still sleeping, but his color looks better," she replied, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She'd been wearing Luc's spare shirt and pants the entire day yesterday and though they tried, they couldn't seem to find anything for her to wear at the port. She had to settle for a men's white fishing shirt that said, "Go Fish!"

"That's good. Is he well enough to walk?"

Marcie shook her head sadly. "He tried to get up to stretch his legs just now, but he just didn't seem to have the strength."

Adrian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was losing his grandfather. It was happening in front of his eyes.

"What's with all the boxes?" The princess's voice echoed in the small interior of the yacht.

He looked up to find her examining the labels on the boxes. Her back was turned to him. She was probably addressing either Bull or Luc who were standing in her line of sight. But he chose to answer her anyway.

"It's antibiotics."

She froze. He could see her shoulders tensing perceptibly before she turned to face him.

"W-what for?" she asked, trying to meet his eyes but failing.

"Typhoid fever. There's been an outbreak at the colony we're visiting."

"Oh," she said, her brow wrinkling, "but I thought typhoid wasn't a big problem in St. Vicente?"

"Where you lived, probably," Luc said from behind her. "But where we're going, it's taking lives as we speak."

"Oh." She looked down at her hands. "Well." Everyone waited to see if she would say anything else.

Marcie broke the silence. "Maybe I should make everyone something to eat. Pasta would be nice, yes?"

Adrian tore his eyes away from the princess and turned back to Marcie. "Yes, thank you."

As Marcie walked in the direction of the kitchen, Tressa finally noticed how awkward the girl looked in the sloppy clothes. She wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything like that in public.

"Marcie?" she called hesitantly, all too accustomed to being ignored by her. But Marcie stopped and looked over her shoulder expectantly.

"Would you like something of mine to wear? I, um, I did pack a few things..."

Marcie looked over Tressa's head. Tressa didn't have to turn to see that she was asking the leader for permission. But Adrian must have acceded because Marcie smiled at her and said thank you.

*

It was dusk again and they were at sea. Tressa sat near the bow of the boat, resting her chin on her upraised knees. The movement of the boat rocked her back and forth, and she felt comforted by that simple motion. She'd probably been sitting there for hours now, but she didn't feel compelled to move. Her mind was peacefully blank after hours of riotous thoughts and she preferred it that way.

She was sitting in the dark when Adrian's voice reached her.

"Come down. It's time to give you the shot."

She looked up, squinting at his image in the darkness. Somehow, she found him much less intimidating when she couldn't see his features.

"What shot?"

"Typhoid. We need to do it quickly. Come on."

She forced herself to uncurl from her little ball of serenity. It hurt like a bitch, especially since her legs and butt had gone numb hours ago and she'd barely noticed. Slowly, she ambled down to the kitchen and seated herself at the table while Adrian prepared the shot.

She reached for the small vial of liquid on the table, checking to make sure he really was injecting her with a typhoid shot and nothing else. She didn't put it past him to drug her.

"It really is a typhoid shot. The seal is unbroken. You can check."

She checked. It seemed fine to her.

As he seated himself next to her and produced the needle, she asked, "Are you using a new one?"

He pointed to the tray with the used needles.

"Good," she said, then shut her eyes.

A few seconds later, she shrieked. Ohmigod! How big was that goddamn needle? The unbearable pain!

"Jesus Christ, woman! I haven't touched you."

She opened her eyes, noting that he'd just pulled the vaccine into the tube. He was looking at her as though she was out of her mind. Which she probably was. She really wasn't afraid of needles, though. The anticipation of pain, however, was an entirely different thing.

"Sorry," she murmured, feeling only slightly embarrassed. A part of her still was still wound up in anticipation.

"Ok," he said, finally done preparing the injection and cleaning a patch of skin on her arm. "Now take a deep breath."

She followed orders and the needle went through her skin. The anticipation was much worse than the actual pain. She let out the breath she held as the needle exited her body and was covered by an alcohol swab.

"Ok?" he asked, pasting a little beige Band-Aid over the puncture.

"Fine," she murmured, holding the Band-Aid down with her index finger.

She watched as he moved around the room, disposing the used needles and vials. He moved with an easy grace though his movements were most definitely masculine.

He had really broad shoulders. How had she not noticed them before? They looked really huge to her now that she was looking at him from the back in an enclosed space. His waist was narrow compared to the bulk he carried on his shoulders. A lean wrestler's body. That's what he had. And every inch of it was covered in tanned, olive skin...

"Have you eaten?" he asked, still facing away from her. She started guiltily, even though he couldn't possibly have known she was looking at him.

"No."

He washed his hands in the sink and turned to the stove. "There's still some pasta left over. I had to keep Luc away with a stick but it's still here."

Tressa raised an eyebrow. Had he just made a joke?

"I, um, I'm kinda sick of pasta," she admitted.

The expression on his face was the closest to horrified that she'd ever see on him.

"What?" she asked, defensive. "You served me pasta everyday back at the house!"

"That's our food. Who could get sick of that?"

"There are different kinds of carbohydrates, you know," she commented pointedly.

He sighed, putting the lid back on the pan. "So what would you like to eat?"

She shook her head. "I'm not really hungry."

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. "We're docking in a few hours. If you don't eat here, trust me, you won't get anything you like on the island."

"What do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his short hair. "We're staying with a good friend of my grandfather's. His family's poor and they can't afford much. It'll probably be pasta or more likely porridge for the next few -."

"I'll take a sandwich," she said quickly.

"Good," he said with a curt nod. "What kind?"

"Tuna?"

He opened a cupboard and rummaged through it. "I think we have some..." He reached to the back and pulled out a can of tuna and mayonnaise.

She watched as he made her a nice tuna sandwich, spreading tuna quite generously on the bread slices. When he set the plate before her, she stared up at him. He was such a contradiction. How could someone have such different personalities? It confused her. Who was he, really? Was he the guy whose violent nature scared the crap out of her? Or was he the sensitive, sweet guy who tended to her wounds, made her sandwiches and kissed her like he wanted to be a part of her soul?

"What?" he asked, wondering about that weird look in her exotic brown eyes. She looked thoughtful yet wary.

"Why did you kiss me yesterday?" she blurted, her voice soft.

He watched as her eyelids flickered downward and she averted her eyes.

"I wanted to," he said truthfully.

She shook her head. "You already told me that you don't find me attractive, so please don't lie to me. Do you want something from me?"

So naïve, he thought. True, he hadn't been attracted to her the first time he'd seen her. She'd been a real brat with a disposition that made him want to gag her.

But after that night, something had changed. Within him. Between them. It was elemental, primal, something that he couldn't spell out. A bond had formed, a connection. It was nothing like he'd felt before. She'd felt it too... hadn't she?

"Look at me," he said. She lifted her head, but just barely. "Look at me," he repeated, more forcefully. "I never said I didn't find you attractive."

Her eyes widened into round orbs. "But you told me you didn't want me. You used me."

"I was..." He couldn't rebut that. He had used her. But it had been for a greater cause. "I had no choice."

"So, what do you want now?" she asked, getting to her feet and crossing her arms.

"Nothing."

"I'm not stupid enough to be used twice. Just be honest with me and I'll try to cooperate."

He reminded himself that his goal was to be nice to her. "I'm not trying to use you. We don't need anything from you now. We've led your father on a wild goose chase and that's what we wanted."

She was stumped by that. "What do you mean?"

"He knows he hasn't killed us and has sent more men out looking for all of us. His attention is probably focused on finding you now rather than his day-to-day."

She refused to let herself feel pain at the thought of her father. She simply refused. "So what are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "We don't have a plan of action yet. We need to check out the situation in the colony first." He pointed to her sandwich. "Eat your food now."

She shook her head. "I'm not buying that. You know exactly what you're going to do, don't you? You're just not telling me."

He sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "Yes, I do. Now, does that make you feel better?"

She nodded, surprising him. "You're keeping me captive. That puts me under your care. If you have a plan, it's less likely that I'll die."

He sighed dramatically and gestured to her plate. "Eat."

Again, she didn't glance at her plate. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" His voice was almost a growl.

"Why did you kiss me?" Her chin was tilted upward defensively and he knew for a fact that she wouldn't leave him alone unless she got her answers.

He decided to give her the crude but absolute truth. Perhaps it would scare her enough to shut her up. "Why wouldn't I kiss you?"

She frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

His took a step closer to her, making her fight the urge to take several steps back. His voice dipped dangerously. "It means, princess, you were sitting on my dick, cushioning it with your soft little ass, panting pretty as you please with a sheen of sweat covering your body. Why wouldn't I kiss you?"

She blinked several times, trying to absorb what he'd just said. It was a hard task, considering the fact that she'd never had anyone talk so crudely to her in her entire life.

"Huh," was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

His fingers reached up to push her fringe out of her eyes. She wanted to step back, away from him, but her legs couldn't seem to move. The flash of heat in his eyes mesmerized her, making her throat dry.

The pad of his thumb followed the sharp arch of her eyebrow, skimming down her cheekbone to land on her lips. He traced their plumpness and her breath caught.

"Anymore questions?" he asked, his fingers now resting on her chin.

She shook her head mutely.

"Good."

He was very smooth, she had to give him that. When he focused his gaze on her, she could forget that everything else existed. When he laid his lips against hers, it made her feel like a new part of her had come alive. It was like a kind of drug to her, something new and exciting. Despite what had happened between them before, she found herself responding, her body slowly moving towards his.

His tongue did magical things to her, clouding her brain and her better judgment. He was relentless, licking, suckling, nibbling. Claiming. And he was so gentle, his fingers barely touching her as his lips fused with hers. It made her feel cherished, desired, necessary to someone. She wanted, no, needed, to feel necessary again.

Her hands had been clenched at her sides. Now they relaxed, moving upward to rest gently on his waist. He broke their kiss, leaning away slightly to murmur, "Touch me."

He didn't give her the time or opportunity to object. As his tongue dueled with hers, his hand captured hers and moved it under his sweater. He jerked when the coolness of her hand touched his skin.

Tressa was starting to feel a little light-headed. There was too much pleasure. His kiss, his body. She was starting to feel like she had no control over her own body's reactions. She wanted to touch him. Everywhere. Wrap herself around him and drown in the pleasure she knew he was capable of giving. She just wanted to feel wanted again.

His lips moved to her neck, kissing it, his tongue lapping against the ticklish spot she had. She trembled, clutching his shoulders. He began pushing her back, lifting her and she felt something hard beneath her butt. A counter?

She couldn't care less.

His movements were slightly hurried now as his fingers delved beneath her tank top. The shock of his fingers made her tummy contract. She moaned, biting her bottom lip. His fingers were making her lose her sanity.

The girl was driving him insane, he thought. She was so utterly sexual in his arms, purring like a kitten and clinging to him for more. She was already trembling so violently and all he was doing was caressing her skin lightly with his fingers.

"So fucking responsive, princess," he growled, biting down on the fold of flesh at her shoulders.

At his address, she stiffened instantly. Her fingers, which had moved up to hold the back of his head, fell away. He raised his head and saw that shock had overcome her features.

She pushed his hands away roughly and slipped off the counter, her legs dipping dangerously as she struggled to snap out of the bubble of pleasure. He reached out to steady her, but she pushed his hands away.

"What?" he asked, confused by the change in her.

She leaned against the wall, trying to gain some semblance of control. "I can't. I just can't."

He adjusted his sweater, waiting for her to explain.

She covered her eyes with her hands. "What am I thinking? I can't possibly let myself... just a few days ago you... God!"

"Don't do this to-." He made to step forward but she signaled for him to back off.

"Don't come near me! I can't think when you're near me." She slid along the wall, moving closer to the doorway. "I have to get out of here."

"It's a yacht, princess. There's only so far you can go."

"I don't care. I just need to go."

He watched as she ran out of the kitchen, shaking his head. He didn't know what to do with her and it would take too much energy to work the kinks out of their barely-there relationship. She had issues. So did he. The only difference was that he was the cause of her issues. And nothing he did seemed to make it better.

*

"Oh my god. I think I'm going to throw up."

The crew looked over at Tressa, who was leaning against a palm tree, doubled over. They had docked at a low-key harbor that was hardly ever used, a little ahead of schedule. No sooner had they gotten off the yacht that the princess began complaining.

"What's wrong with her?" Luc asked, hefting the weight of antibiotic injections.

Adrian steadied Sergei by propping an arm around the old man's shoulder, then looked over at the princess. "I'm not too sure. But if I were to take a guess, I'd say it's the smell of fish."

"It's not that bad," Marcie commented.

"She's just not used to it," Bull chimed in.

Adrian signaled for everyone to be quiet. "Julian will be here in a few minutes. He'll lead us to the house we'll be using as HQ."

He motioned for the princess to come closer. She was holding her nose and breathing to her mouth. "What?" she asked, her voice high and nasal.

"I won't be introducing you to Julian as the princess of St. Vicente." Before he could explain, she cut in.




St. Vicente Ch. 03



"I'm not the princess anymore, so you shouldn't be introducing me that way anyway."

He looked upward, praying for patience. "I'm not introducing you as the princess because it might endanger you. The people here are very angry with your father's government. There's no telling what they might do if they find out who you really are."

She let out a long sigh. "So whom are you introducing me as?"

"Bull's sister."

She turned to the stoic man next to her. He acknowledged Adrian's statement with a curt nod. "What's my name, then?"

"Rose. You can make up your backstory yourself."

Adrian turned and looked up the hill. "Hush. I think they're coming."

*

The village was quiet as they walked in. Considering the fact that it was 3 AM in the morning, that wasn't very surprising.

Julian, the haggard old man who was leading their small entourage, looked back at them with a small smile.

"It's not much but it's home now."

Tressa could still barely stand the putrid smell of fish but she managed a smile and a nod.

The small straw huts around her were most definitely 'not much'. It was hard for her to believe that this was indeed St. Vicente. Her house had been set on a hill, with smaller townhouses surrounding the valley beneath. She'd always thought her country was one of the wealthiest in the world. Apparently not.

They stopped in front of a straw hut similar to all the others.

"Here you are," Julian whispered, revealing blackened teeth. Tressa had to fight not to recoil. "I hope you find it comfortable."

Adrian let his grandfather lean on Luc. "May I speak with you for a few minutes, Julian?" he asked the old man.

"Of course, my boy. Come with me to my home and we can speak at length." He motioned for his sons, Leonardo and Vincent, to follow him back to the hut.

Adrian turned to her but she found that she could not meet his eyes. Not after what had happened.

"Stay out of trouble," he said. "And get some sleep."

He didn't wait for her to acknowledge his order. He simply walked away, leaving her standing in front of the sad, tiny hut. When she stepped in and realized that the floor was simply made of sand, she wanted to bawl her eyes out.

*

Tressa found that she could not sleep. She was on the floor, protected only by a thin blanket. What if a crab crawled out from the sand and bit her nose while she was sleeping? What if she accidentally rolled over onto an ant colony? She looked around her. Everyone else seemed to be sleeping quite soundly. Sergei, who was sleeping on the only bed in the room, was snoring gently. Luc had left to speak to Julian as well, leaving Marcie and Bull as her only source of company. However, both of them seemed to be quite comfortable on the sand and appeared to be deep asleep.

She sighed and closed her eyes again, willing sleep to take over. She sang lullabies to herself, thinking that they might relax her enough to make her fall asleep. Fail. She just wasn't comfortable enough to fall asleep. She didn't feel safe enough to fall asleep.

She opened her eyes, staring into the darkness. Maybe she could just lay there until the sun rose and then... She frowned. What exactly were they going to do when the sun rose?

"Why aren't you asleep?"

The voice at her side startled her so badly that she nearly screamed. Adrian was crouched beside her, silently uncoiling his blankets. She could make out Luc's shadow in the far corner, sliding under the blankets with Marcie. She'd been turned away from the door and hadn't seen them come in...but how on earth could she not have heard them in the silence of the night?

"I can't sleep," she replied, trying to get her heart rate under control. "It's weird, sleeping on the sand."

"Well," he said, sliding into his blankets as well, "I suggest you try to get some sleep before dawn. We have a lot on the agenda tomorrow."

She frowned in the darkness. "What do you mean? What's on the agenda?"

He folded his arms and stacked them behind his head. "You'll find out tomorrow. Sleep now."

She was reluctant to break the silence that followed. There was absolutely no movement, no sound except for the distant crashing of waves on the shore, and almost no light.

She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

And surprisingly, it did.

*

She overslept. Upon hindsight, it wasn't her fault, really. It was their fault for not waking her up. As she sat up, bright sunlight flooded the little hut through cracks in the straw. She ran her fingers over the corner of her eyes, taking a deep breath filled with the smell of seawater and fish.

Everyone else had rolled their blankets and stacked them in the corner. She did the same, grimacing as she worked the kinks out of her body.

She could feel people staring at her as she stepped out of the hut. She smiled at them, trying to put them at ease. They smiled back -- some hesitantly, others with a feeling of welcome. But none of them approached her to speak to her.

She wandered around the area, wondering where in hell the others were. In the back of her mind, she was pretty sure she wasn't allowed to wander off on her own. But hell, they hadn't told her she couldn't do it, had they?

In the distance, she could see little boats setting off into the sea. The fishermen were going out to make the day's catch. She smiled a little as she watched the coordination they employed to get the tasks done. It was a synchronization borne from years of practice and repetition.

"What're you doing out here?" Luc's voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to face him, noticing immediately that he was dressed differently. Gone were the implicitly sophisticated sweater and jeans. Now he donned a ratty t-shirt and cut-offs.

She shrugged. "Just taking a walk." She gestured to his clothing. "Are you trying to blend in?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

There was a cheekiness in his smile that made her return it.

"Well, then, lean down. Your hair's too perfect for a fisherman."

He bent over and she ran her fingers through his hair, doing her worst. When she was done, he looked like an overgrown street kid.

"Better?" he asked, wondering what in hell she'd done.

She tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Definitely."

He led her back towards the hut they were stationed at. "There are no guards out today so it's safe to walk around. But they might be coming in tonight, so just ask one of us if you decide to go for a walk."

She frowned. "These guards, what do they do?"

"They're meant to keep the villagers out of trouble. But sometimes, they might be the cause of trouble, if you know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. Not really."

He sighed. "There have been many cases of misdemeanor by the guards."

"Misdemeanor?"

He looked troubled. "Just don't go out alone at night, all right?"

Before she could question him further, they stepped into a spacious hut filled with the medical supplies they'd brought. There were a group of sickly children gathered in a corner, waiting for their turn at the 'stations' that had been set up. Adrian and Marcie manned the stations while Bull helped with preparing the necessary equipment. Sergei sat on a bench in a corner, watching.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Luc pointed to the bench. "We'll be breaking in an hour or so for lunch."

She looked at the number of children gathered there. There was bound to be much more than just that number who needed medical attention. She looked at the only two stations in the room. She was not a mathematician, but the ratio was drastically uneven.

"Can I help?" she asked instead.

They all looked up at that. "You want to help?" Adrian asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Looks like you could use a hand."

"Do you have any idea what to do?"

"Well, sorta. I saw what you did last night. It isn't that hard."

Adrian motioned for her to come over. He spent the next half an hour instructing her on the proper procedure for injections, going over each step until she had it down pat. He even made her practice in front of him, making sure she knew it inside and out. It was a tedious process, with the children fussing and crying out. She prided herself, however, that she was able to calm the kids better than Adrian could.

Soon, there were three stations set up and more vaccines were being administered, speeding up the process. When Marcie left a couple of hours later for a lunch break, Adrian and Tressa stayed on.

In the late afternoon, the adults started coming in for their injections. A lot of small talk was made, and by the end of the day, Tressa was sure she knew the story of half the families in the village.

As she injected the last man with the vaccine, Luc rushed into the room looking harassed. Or perhaps it was his hair that gave him the harassed look.

"Night guards coming in. They should be in the village in less than ten minutes."

Adrian was already packing up the equipment.

"We're almost done here," Tressa said in Italian, smiling calmly at her 'patient'. "Just a few more minutes."

Her 'patient', a middle-aged man with dark skin, waved away her concern. "The guards don't scare me. Take your time, dear."

Despite his bravado, the man was out of the hut in a flash after she put the Band-Aid on him.

"We should go as well," Luc said, signaling for them to hurry.

She quickly packed up the equipment with Luc's help and the three of them bolted for the safety of the hut.

Marcie had grilled a sea bass for them and laid it out with a loaf of bread. Tressa, who'd denied the offer of lunch earlier, found herself eating more than she would on normal occasions, despite the fact that fish wasn't on her list of top ten foods.

After dinner, they sat around the hut with nothing much to do. Adrian was tapping away on his laptop while Bull and Luc were listening to a story Sergei was telling about 'those days'. Marcie had already drifted off.

Honest to god, she was exhausted. It wasn't so much the physical activity of the day that exhausted her. It was more of the emotional part. Having to soothe so many children in just one afternoon could exhaust anyone.

She found herself unrolling her bedroll despite the fact that it was only nine. If tomorrow was going to be as tough as today was, she needed as much sleep as possible.

*

She awakened hours later with an undeniable urge. Clasping her thighs together, she tried to hold it back, but she couldn't. Her movements only made it worse.

She really needed to pee.

As she looked around, she saw that everyone was asleep. Listening closely, she found that there was no sound of movement outside the hut. Well, certain things couldn't be denied, could they? And she sure as hell wasn't waking someone up just to follow her to the outhouse. She wasn't three anymore.

She crept out from under the blanket and peeked out through a crack in the door. There was no one along the narrow lane between the huts. Quietly, she slipped out the door and made a dash for the outhouse that was situated about twenty feet downhill behind the row of huts.

She didn't have cause to regret her actions until she was on the way back to the hut. She'd just climbed the twenty feet incline to the huts when she realized that someone was waiting for her, casually leaning against a palm tree that separated two huts.

She froze immediately, not recognizing the figure. Luc's words came back to her belatedly. Just don't go out at night.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She really had to learn how to listen to instructions.

"Look what we have here," the figure said, moving forward. A guard. The uniform was a staple of her father's guards. A flash of moonlight illuminated him and she could see that a full beard covered the lower half of his face. "And here I thought that I'd be having a boring night out."

She cleared her throat. "I-I have to go."

He took a few steps in her direction. "I don't think so. You know what happens to girls who get caught wandering outside at night."

Ok, she was in trouble. Officially.

"I have to get back," she repeated. Every instinct told her to make a run for it.

She heard laughter as he stepped even closer. "You obviously don't understand who's in charge here."

"I have to-."

Before she could finish her sentence, he rushed forward and grabbed her. She twisted, trying to get away. His arm was like a brand of steel and she pulled ineffectively, only hurting herself in the process.

Panicked, she struggled, employing techniques she'd learned very recently. But he had too good a grip on her for her to do anything useful.

Her upper body was caught, but not her lower body. She tried to take a step back to get some leverage, but her foot hit the edge of the decline to the outhouse and she slipped, knocking her off balance and bringing him with her to the ground. They rolled for a bit and she landed a few feet away from him.

She didn't waste time in getting up and scrambling up the small hill. Leaves had probably gotten into her hair and clothes, but nothing mattered right then. She knew what would happen if she was too slow. Only days ago she'd experienced...

Wham!

Her forehead hit a low-lying branch and she fell to the floor again, trying to get up even though everything was a blur. She could barely breathe to get enough energy for a scream. But she needed to... call for help...

A hand covered her mouth and nose from the back, effectively cutting off her supply of oxygen. She thrashed against him, beginning to feel giddy and nauseous. Stifled moans of desperation escaped her lips as she fought him.

Not again, was all she could think. She couldn't handle it again.

He shoved her back against the bark of the tree, a hand on her throat pinning her there while he reached to unfasten his pants.

Oh god, it was happening again. Oh god oh god oh god. And there was really nothing she could do.

As her vision fritzed, she opened her mouth to try and call for help.

One second, he was in front of her and the next, he was on the floor, lying very still. She tried to steady herself against the tree, but her legs were too weak with relief. Hands tried to get her to stand up, but she pushed them away, wanting just to get her bearing again.

I'm safe, was all she could think. Safe, safe, safe. It didn't matter who'd helped her. She was safe.

"Tressa?" It was Adrian. Of course it was. "Tressa, can you hear me?" He was tapping her cheek lightly, trying to get her to focus. She opened her eyes, zoning in on him.

"Are you ok?"

She shook her head. Belatedly, tears escaped from the corner of her eyes.

"We warned you not to go out at night."

She nodded.

"Here, stand up."

He reached for her shoulders, but she shrank away. "Please, just don't touch me."

His voice hardened in the darkness. "Get up."

She struggled to get to her feet, relying heavily on the thick bark of the tree. Her gaze was locked on the guard on the floor. "Did you kill him?" she asked.

He didn't reply.

Suddenly, she laughed. Her voice was eerie in the silence of the night. "You're a goddamn hypocrite, you know that? Just a few days ago, you tried to do the same thing to me. Don't you think you deserve to die too?"

She made to move towards the hut, but he grabbed her and pulled her back. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. You did what he was trying to do. The only difference between you two is the fact that you actually succeeded. Why? Does the truth hurt?"

"I told you to stop bringing that up. I explained why-."

"You can't bury things like that, Adrian. I can't just forget it."

He was silent. She turned to leave again, but his fingers clasped hers, pulling her flush against his body.

She could feel his heart beating quickly. Too quickly. She looked up into his eyes. They had hardened because of her words, but as he looked down at her, she saw them change. She saw regret and apology interlaced there, tugging at her heartstrings. There was something between them. A connection, a bond. Something she could not begin to define. Something she'd denied to herself. He was right; she could not liken the guard to him. At least, not upon hindsight.

"There is a difference between us, Tressa," he murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand. "The difference is this."

He laid his lips against hers.

It was wrong. Plain logic told her it was very wrong. But as she felt his swift intake of breath, the smoothing of his lips against hers, and the familiar taste of him overtaking her senses, she struggled to remember what it was that logic told her.

It had been only a few days. How had anger become want, and want become need? She could not understand it.

He confused her. Her body confused her. Her life confused her.

But she was sure only of one thing: he made her go crazy. In the most pleasurable way possible.

*

"What is the meaning of this?" Augustine demanded, slapping the report on the desk. His nephew and head of security, Vittorio Poverelli, struggled to keep from bowing his head.

"The guard was found unconscious, Your Majesty."

"Was this a deliberate act of rebellion by the villagers?" Augustine sat back in his chair, attempting to relieve the tension that sat at the base of his neck.

"We believe it to be."

"Then you know what to do."

"Yes, Majesty."

There was steel in Augustine's eyes when he stared his nephew down. "Make sure it does not happen again. I will not tolerate this nonsense."

*

Adrian had no idea what he was doing with her. Was it guilt? Was it desire? Was it perhaps a mixture of both?

He looked down at her, her features relaxed in sleep. Beautiful. She slept with her upper body draped across his chest, her small hand curled over his heart. He hadn't been able to move her through the night. Every time he'd tried moving even just a little, she'd protested and clung to him, muttering gibberish in her sleep. So he'd stayed, busying himself by plucking out the stray leaves in her hair and knowing he was going to have a helluva muscle ache in the morning.

After that kiss last night, they'd stood in the moonlight, with her crying against his shirt. He'd tried to pacify her but soon gave up, realizing that she just needed to let the tears out. She said nothing, merely twisted the front of his shirt in both her hands and sobbed against his chest. Then she'd pummeled him a little before wrapping her arms around his waist and holding on to him so tightly he could barely breathe.

In the end, he'd carried her to the hut. He'd tried to lay her down on her bedroll, but she'd refused, curling up against him instead. Well, he wasn't going to protest to that.

Rays of early morning sunlight filtered into the straw hut and caressed her features. How could she appear so beautiful to him now? She was his enemy's daughter, the family he'd grown to hate. How could he be developing a soft spot for her?

He ran his fingers through the smooth silk of her fringe. The answer was easy. She wasn't at all what he'd prepared for, nothing like what he'd expected. Sure, she appeared spoiled at times, but she had a good heart. The bratty princess of St. Vicente wouldn't have gotten so close to those sick children. She wouldn't have volunteered to help them. She wouldn't have pacified them even though her eyes showed just how tired she was. The princess he'd thought she would be would have just sat in a corner and watched.

But she'd wanted to help. It surprised and impressed him more than he'd admit to himself. It truly made him understand how kind and sweet she was.

At the moment, she stirred. He watched as she made the transition from sleep to semi-consciousness to wakefulness. When she realized she was sleeping on someone, she sat up and blinked sleepily at him, her eyes questioning. He smiled at her, running his hands through her hair.




St. Vicente Ch. 04



Ok, I'm sorry this has taken a while. I don't deliver like my men do. 

This is a completely unedited, raw-to-the-bone draft but I wanted to leave you guys something to enjoy over the weekend. Let me know what you think!

Much love xoxo

*

"Where do I go for a shower?" Tressa asked as she folded her bedroll and placed it in a corner. Adrian came up behind her and stacked his on top of hers. 

"There's a bowl and a pitcher of water in the next room," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" she returned, stupefied. "A bowl and a... you want me to take a sponge bath?"

An amused smile quirked his lips at her shocked expression. "Yes, princess. That's how the rest of us do it."

"Oh," her shoulders sagged in disappointment. She felt like she was hoarding the Sahara dessert in her hair and she really wanted to wash the dirt off her body. "I was hoping to wash my hair."

She raised hopeful eyes to him. He stared at her for a minute, taking in the rounded eyes and hopeful stance of her body. Then he looked upward, as though he was praying for deliverance. He knew he could not deny her. 

"Fine. There's a little pond about a half an hour's trek from here. If you're up..."

But she was already nodding and moving towards her bag. 

Sighing, he walked up to Luc, who was putting away his own bedroll. 

"I'm taking the princess down to the pond."

Luc frowned. "Why?"

"She wants to wash her hair." He paused. "You're in charge while I'm gone. If there are any signs that the guards are coming in, alert me. I will give you orders."

The younger brother nodded curtly. 

"I'm ready."

Tressa stood behind them with her clothes in her hands. She even had a little bag of toiletries. 

"Just give me a second to gather my clothes."

*

"Ok, so how are we going to do this?" she asked, setting her stuff down on a smooth rock. 

"Do what?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you wanna go in or do you mind me jumping in first?"

He looked around. "As I see it, the pond is big enough for the two of us."

She bit her lip uncertainly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

He looked at her but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I just don't think it is."

"Tressa, I've seen you naked before."

She felt her cheeks heat viciously. "Don't say that!" she hissed.

"Say what? The truth?" Before she could hiss at him again, he continued. "Look, I just want to save us time. You face that way and I'll face this way. We won't even have to see each other."

She seemed to mull it over. "That sounds ok... but you go in first."

Sighing, he stripped off his shirt and shorts and folded them on the rock. Tressa turned away when he began to pull down his briefs. He shook his head amusedly. He'd never understood why women were so skittish about nudity. It was the most natural thing in the world to him to be nude. 

"I'm going in now." She nodded, still facing away from him. 

A few seconds later, when Tressa opened her eyes, he was hip-deep in the water. Looking over at him every few seconds, she stripped down to her undies. Then, fighting every modest instinct in her body, she bared herself to the natural world around her. 

It felt weird, being naked in an open space. Anyone could walk past and ogle her. Though to be honest, they hadn't passed by a single soul on their trek there. Being ogled probably wasn't very likely. 

Grabbing her bottle of two-in-one soap and shampoo, she stepped into the water and let it cover her up 'til her waist. The water felt so unbelievably good on her skin. She quickly poured the soap/shampoo onto her hand and lathered up her hair. For a person who'd never missed a bath in her life, the past few days had been absolute torture. She moaned aloud at the feeling of getting clean.

He tried not to think about her as he sluiced water over his body. It was complete agony. He'd thought he could handle it – the knowledge that she was just a few feet away, naked, soaped up. He had self-control; he could put it out of his mind. Apparently not. 

Every little sound she made seemed to shoot straight to his dick. The image of her, covered waist-deep in water, her breasts on display, with their tight little nipples beaded by the cool water, drove him slowly insane. Valiantly, he tried to ignore her and the little noises she was making. It was hard. It was impossible.

He could still remember the feel of her against his body. Soft and warm and responsive. The way her fingers had felt on his chest. The way she'd bucked against him. The way she'd moaned into his mouth, losing herself in pleasure. 

But he'd promised himself he'd never take her again unless she wanted it. Really wanted it. Begged him for it. Only then would he take her, open her up and slide himself home. Again and again if she wanted it, making her come until she passed out with a smile on her beautiful face. 

"Tressa?"

Adrian's voice made her cover her breasts self-consciously, even though she knew he couldn't possibly see her from his side of the pond. 

"Yes?"

"I need the soap." Tressa looked down at the floating plastic bottle. 

"You didn't bring yours?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless. The conversation was a little too intimate for her. Both of them were naked. Both of them were wet. Both of them were standing jut a few feet from one another. It played out as a rather erotic scenario in her mind. 

"No," he replied. 

"Well, how am I going to give it to you?"

"I could just reach over and get it-."

"No!" she protested quickly, her hands tightening securely in front of her breasts. "Don't turn around."

She heard him sigh. "This is ridiculous, princess. There's no reason to hide from me. I've seen you naked before; I've touched you naked, felt you naked against me. I know your body."

"No... don't...don't say such things." She sounded breathless. 

"Why not? It's the truth." His voice sounded somewhat nearer to her. She panicked. 

"Don't come near me."

"I just want the soap."

"No, I..."

A gasp left her lips as his hand came around to pluck the soap from her hands. She could feel the heat of his body at her back, the earthy scent of him surrounding her. Her heart thudded quickly in her chest. Too quickly. She expected him to move away, to take the soap and return to his side of the pond. 

Instead, she heard the clicks of the bottle as it opened and closed. 

Then she felt his hands on her. 

Her breath hitched audibly. "W-what are you doing?" she asked. She could barely get the words out. 

"Lathering you," he replied, running slippery hands down her arms. He stepped closer to her, bringing her body flush up against his. She felt his... parts... at the small of her back. Surprisingly, her first urge was to arch against him. 

"Relax," he whispered in her ear, bringing his hands up to her neck and stroking it. "Relax, princess."

The way he called her princess made her shiver. It was deeply intimate, arousing. She trembled against him, her hands involuntarily tightening on her breasts. 

"Adrian..."

"Mm?" he murmured as he nuzzled the hollow behind her ear. 

"Should we be doing this?"

His hand flitted from the arms covering her breasts to her tummy, stroking it. She trembled violently, one hand parting with her breasts to capture his roving hand. 

"You tell me," he said, running his tongue along her ear. 

"I – I don't think-."

A cry left her lips as he bit down on her earlobe. She pressed herself back against him reflexively and she felt him, hard and hot against the crack of her ass. He's already hard, she thought blearily. Hard for me. 

"You're so beautiful." He caressed the top of her breasts, plump and visible even though her arm was covering the best bits. Little bumps of pleasure broke out immediately on her skin. Her eyelids fell closed as she savored every soft little caress he administered. He murmured hot words to her, and she could literally feel them heating her body in the worst, most pleasurable way. 

"Adrian," she purred, turning slightly. She tilted her head upwards and he knew what she was asking for. 

He took her lips slowly, brushing against her once, twice, three times before she took the initiative and pressed her lips firmly to his. Her body was buzzing. There was no other word she could use to describe the feeling. She was vibrating, trembling ever so slightly, and heat was spreading through her like someone had lit a torch in her veins. 

As he ran his tongue over her lips, she raised her hands to clasp his neck, pressing herself firmly against him. She gasped into his mouth when her bare nipples brushed against his heated chest. 

His hands lay dormant on the small of her back now. She squirmed, wanting him to touch her, hoping that he'd take the hint. Her body tingled. Every part that he hadn't touched tingled fiercely. 

He was slowly driving her mad. Was that his intention? To make her want? To make her need? To make her crave his hands on her skin? To make her so hot that her body felt like it was set on vibrate?

Fuzzily, she thought, this is how it should have been between them in the first place. This raw heat. This passion. This... wholeness.

She felt his hands moving across her body, trailing a line of fire. She moaned into his mouth, letting her tongue play with his. As his fingers neared her breasts, her breath caught in anticipation. 

"Do you want me to touch you?" he murmured against her lips, his fingers absently stroking the sides of her generous breasts. 

She looked into his eyes and for a second, was tupefied by the plain desire there. No one had ever looked at her that way before. With such passion and fire. There was no artifice in his eyes, just naked longing. For her. For her body. It made her feel... there were no words to describe her emotions right then.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, touch me."

Swiftly, he turned her around such that she faced away from him. One large hand was splayed across her waist, pinning her to him. She gasped, looking into his eyes, wondering at his sudden roughness. 

He placed a chaste kiss on her now-tingling lips, distracting her slightly as his thumb and forefinger found a tight brown nipple. A keening cry left her lips as pleasure shot through her, making her arch against him. She heard his breath hiss in her ear as she accidentally ground herself against his cock. 

She liked it. She liked knowing he was reacting to her. So she did it again. And again. And again. But he caught her hips with one hand and cupped her breast with the other, making her groan with need. 

"Are you wet, princess?" he murmured, his fingers moving down to stroke the tender vee of her sex. 

She made a small, embarrassed noise. 

"Are you?" His fingers parted her lips, casually slipping over the pink little bud that was hard and throbbing for release. 

She squirmed, her breath coming out in short little pants. God, it felt so good. She couldn't breathe when he touched her. She could barely breathe now, and all he was doing was cupping her. 

"What do you want?" he asked her, stroking the little hairs on her mound. 

She couldn't meet his eyes. "You know..." she replied, her voice soft. 

He tilted her chin up with his free hand. "Look at me. Tell me what you want."

She swallowed, torn between shyness and the needs of her body. Her body demanded that she say something, anything to put it out of the tense, wired, pleasurable misery it was in. But...

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, trying to hide herself in the crook of his neck. He wouldn't let her. 

His eyes seemed to burn with desire. "Where?"

She averted her eyes. "Down...down there."

"Down where?"

He could see the slight flush in her cheeks and knew he was embarrassing her. But he needed to hear that she wanted him. There was just something in his heart that needed that little confirmation from her. That she wanted him to touch her, please her.

"Princess?"

"Please," her voice was a sob. "Just touch me."

She was so beautiful to him. He needed to touch her, to give her pleasure. No woman had ever affected him like this before. With most of them, it would be a rough but fulfilling ride. But with her, he wanted to make her come over and over again just to watch pleasure caress her features as she came.

His fingers slipped into her just as he took her lips in a deep kiss. She cried out against his mouth as he circled his thumb on her clit, making her writhe in need. 

Her eyelids flickered closed again as she reveled in the sensations shooting through her body. 

"Open your eyes." It was an order.

"Why?" she asked, panting, her hips now gyrating to the rhythm of his fingers. 

"I want to see you when you come."

His fingers probed deep, brushing against a spot inside her that made her quiver. Every inhibition of hers was broken as he stroked her, pushing her to a frenzy. 

"Are you coming for me?" His voice in her ear was the last straw. There was only so much a girl could take. Trembling violently, she let the torrent of release wash over her, moaning his name as she did so. His fingers continued to work on her, thumbing her clit in tandem with the magic of his fingers. 

She had a fraction of a second to recover from her first orgasm when the second one hit. He bit down on her shoulder, sending sparks of pain through her body, escalating her pleasure. She screamed this time, clutching at his hand and locking him in place as she rode out the wave. 

When he withdrew his fingers, she felt emptier than ever. Hollow. Needy in a way she'd never known. As she leaned back against him, bereft of energy, she craved... she craved him. 

Adrian kissed her again, knowing that her lips would probably be bruised if he kept that up. But he wanted to taste her lips, knowing that he was doing it because she let him and because he could.

A gasp tore through his body when her fingers found him. He'd been so intent on her lips that he hadn't noticed her moving at all. Her hands were warm and slick and they moved on him with ease, making him thread his hands in her hair and clutch at her. She had good hands, he thought. Skillful. Like she knew what she was...

"Fuck me."

At first, he'd thought it was his imagination. The modest princess would never say such a thing, at least not without prodding. But as he opened his eyes, he saw her looking directly at him. "Adrian, fuck me," she repeated, the need obvious in her eyes.

It was as though something wild ripped through him. Something primal. Without hesitation, he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. He was thrusting into her the next second. 

She moaned but she could barely hear herself over the roar in her ears. She clutched him tightly, wrapping herself around him firmly. She felt so full, so whole. So good. 

Adrian balanced her on his cock, pulling in and out of her, thrusting deeply. She was close to coming. He could feel it. Her breath was short and shallow against his neck and her body was quaking. 

He thrust into her deeply and to the hilt, lodging himself there, feeling her come apart around him. She sobbed against his neck, his name like a litany on her tongue. Her sheath quivered around him, squeezing him as she came. Seconds later, he found his release as well.

*

It was a while later that they returned to shore. Tressa could barely walk. Her skin had a warm glow that attested to the mind-blowing orgasms she'd had. 

As Adrian wrapped a towel around her, something peculiar caught his eye. A black rock-like object was placed neatly on his clothing, right next to his mobile and his gun. 

He reached out for it, then stopped cold.

It was his mother's scrying glass. But how..? Everything his mother had owned had been destroyed in the explosion. It had been a keen source of grief to him, but he'd known that there was nothing he could do but move on. And now...

"What is it?" Tressa asked, holding the towel around herself. 

"It's my mother's scrying glass."

Tressa frowned in confusion. "Your mother's what?"

"Scrying glass. It just appeared out of nowhere."

She looked around, suddenly frightened. "Do you think someone's here?"

He shook his head. "No, I think it's supposed to mean something. The glass was destroyed in the fire. It's reappearance..." He looked around him, wondering if his mother had something to do with it. It was possible, considering the fact that he'd always felt her presence around him when he was in need of comfort. Perhaps the scrying glass was a sign... 

Tressa was staring at him. "You're freaking me out."

"I know." He ran a thumb over the glass, hoping to see some sort of explanation pop out from it. When he was younger, his mother had been able to see little snippets of visions in the glass. It fascinated him to no end, even though he hadn't been able to see anything appear on the reflective surface.

Wiping it down lovingly, he set it carefully on the rock and pulled on his clothes. At that moment, his mobile beeped. 

Tressa, who was also pulling on her clothes, watched his face turn grim as he read the message. 

"What?" she asked, her voice anxious. "What is it?"

His lips were pressed into a frown. "Soldiers headed for the village. They're armed. We have to leave now."

*

By the time they got there, the soldiers were already surrounding the village. Adrian shushed Tressa as they stood behind a think growth of foliage, watching the proceedings. 

"What are they doing?" Tressa asked, her breath still choppy from their sprint. 

"I don't know yet" was the reply as Adrian checked the number of bullets in his gun. 

As they watched, the soldiers ordered all occupants of the huts to step outside in a straight line. From their vantage point, the people seemed terrified but were unable to go against the direct orders of the military. 

Men, women and children lined up neatly in front of their huts. Some of the children began crying and were quickly hushed by their worried mothers. 

The soldiers stepped forward in a tight, formidable formation. Their battle formation. Tressa was suddenly very, very afraid. 

The soldier in the front grabbed a man by the scruff of his neck while his wife and three children huddled in fear. They were too far to hear the exact words that the soldier said to the man, but Tressa was doubly glad when the soldier pushed the man away and he fell to the ground, unharmed, a few feet away.

Then, the lead soldier shouted, "Who did it?"

Tressa looked at Adrian, wondering if he knew what was going on. But his attention was focused solely on the scene in front of him. 

"Who rebelled against the King and attacked a guard last night?"

Adrian cursed. 

Tressa bit her lip. "Do you think it's the guard you..."

Adrian nodded curtly. 

"What are we going to do?"

Adrian didn't reply. He was already busy forming a plan. 

Suddenly, a new voice appeared from a jeep that was parked nearby. 

"If no one confesses, we'll just have to pull it out of them."

Tressa gasped. She'd know that voice anywhere. It was her cousin, Vittorio. She knew he was the commander of her father's army, but he rarely ever engaged in the day-to-day. Her cousin preferred to work behind a desk, secretly concealing a John Grisham novel behind his logbook. 

"Stay here," Adrian commanded, cocking his gun. 

Tressa panicked. He was going to leave her alone? "No, wait!"

His eyes narrowed, revealing nothing of the lover she'd seen just minutes ago. "Keep your voice down!"

"Sorry," she whispered, grabbing his arm. "Don't just leave me here."

His eyes softened a little. "It's safer here. Just don't go out in the open where they can see you. You'll be fine."

"Where are you going?" Her hand still had a death grip on his arm. She hated to sound so needy, but he was literally the only person she trusted to keep her safe at the moment. She didn't want him to leave her. 




St. Vicente Ch. 04



"I need to get closer to get a better shot. Just in case," he assured her when her eyes widened. Placing his hand on hers, he gently disengaged her. "Stay here."

She swallowed. "O-ok."

He soon disappeared behind a clump of trees and she could no longer see him. She refused to panic, repeating to herself that he was near. If she screamed, she was pretty sure he'd come running back to her in two seconds flat. 

"So," the soldier in the crowd asked, "Do any of you have information for us? Or are all of you going to bear the brunt of one person's foolishness?"

Her palms grew sweaty as she heard the soldier speak. There was an underlying hint of potential violence in the air, as though something could erupt at any moment. Brought up as a princess, her nurse had taught her many things, one of which was to respect each and every subject of St. Vicente. Shouldn't she do something to prevent the violence that seemed more and more inevitable as each second passed?

She tried finding Adrian amongst the foliage but he was deeply hidden. Even calling out to him in a low, hissing voice didn't work. 

Her heart began thudding quickly when a young girl was pulled forward by the roots of her hair and questioned harshly. Even from a distance, she could see the girl quaking in fear. Bastard, Tressa thought as she watched the soldier trace the young girl's neck with the tip of his finger. To think that someone could treat a young girl like that! She didn't even look eighteen!

She gasped and covered her mouth as the soldier laid a stinging slap on the girl's cheek. The girl began to cry and Tressa felt her own eyes fill with tears. 

As something moved quickly at the corner of her eyes, Tressa turned to find Adrian at the other end of the foliage, hiding behind the trunk of a large tree next to where Vittorio's jeep was parked. Her cousin was simply sitting there, fiddling with some kind of electronic gadget while he waited for his men to finish up. 

Realization began to dawn slowly. Adrian was near the jeep. With a gun. Her cousin seemed to be unarmed, almost like a sitting duck. 

In that moment, Adrian moved, pointing the gun outward towards Vitto's form. Adrian must've said something because Vitto froze, looking up. 

Tressa ran. There was no way in hell she was going to let Adrian harm Vitto. He was a sweet, gentle man who was put in charge of the military only because his mother had wished it so. Growing up, they'd had many fun times together. She would not let him come to harm. Not if she could help it. 

She fell once on her sprint there. Not on any low-lying branch or fallen log, but by tripping over her own feet. Anxiety made her awkward and she really wanted to get there in time before anything happened. 

As she broke out through the trees, Adrian already had Vitto out of the jeep with his hands in the air. 

"No, wait!" she cried, running towards her cousin. 

"Tressa! I thought I told you to stay hidden."

She put herself between the two men. "I know," she panted. "But I can't let you shoot him. Vitto's not like my father."

Adrian ignored her. "Move, princess."

She felt a hand at her back. "Cousin, what are you doing here? We've been looking for you..."

"Tressa, move!"

"No! Adrian, please, listen to me..."

Vitto put his hand on her shoulder to steer her away but she held her ground. "I don't want you to get hurt, Tressa. I think you should move."

She ignored him. "Adrian, please, this is my cousin. I'll never forgive you if you shoot him."

"And I'll never..."

Her heart froze as she watched Adrian's eyes roll back in their sockets and he collapsed at her feet. A cry of pain left her lips as she fell to her knees, looking up at the man who'd attacked him so mercilessly from behind. 

"About time, Rocky," her cousin commented from behind. "About damn time."

A puddle of blood formed under Adrian's head, growing bigger by the minute. She knelt there, mesmerized by all the blood, unable to breathe. She tried to get him to wake up, but he was completely out of it. He couldn't hear her desperate pleas for him to wake up. The shallow rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was still alive. 

"Get him on the jeep. We're taking him to the House."

*

Panic was not the word she would use to describe her emotional state. She had long surpassed that stage.

She grabbed her cousin's arm and steered him to this side. 

"Vitto, please let him go. I'll ask him to leave St. Vicente, I swear."

Vitto frowned at her. "What's wrong with you, Tressa? Why are you asking me to release him? Isn't that the man who kidnapped you and... did those vile things to you?"

She closed her eyes for a minute, trying to find a way to explain her predicament to him without sounding crazy. 

"Yes, but I... we... I just don't want to see him hurt."

Vitto ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "I don't understand you. Don't you want revenge against the man who defiled you?"

She grimaced at his words. "He didn't defile me," she said softly, looking away. 

"Then you mean to say you wanted that bastard's hands on you? Your father's enemy?"

She looked down at her hands. "No, that's not... It's complicated."

"Well, un-complicate it. I'm taking you home."

Her cousin made to turn away but she reached out to take his hand. "Please, please, please, Vitto, let him go. You know what will happen if father gets ahold of him."

"Tressa-."

"Please, I tried to save your life. You owe me." There was no doubt that she was begging. 

"All loaded, Commander." Rocky's voice reached them. Tressa squeezed her cousin's hand hopefully. 

"I can't, Tressa," he said after a few seconds. "The soldiers under my command know who he is. Even if I don't take him with me, word's bound to get out that I had Adriano St. Vicente and I let him go. Your father would see me hung."

"Yes, but..." she tried to plead her case, but he cut in. 

"No, Tressa. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop acting like this. If the soldiers know that you're on the wrong side, your father would not hesitate to hang you too."

She swallowed, knowing that there was truth in the statement. "He already tried to kill me," she said softly. 

Vitto sighed. "I know. You would not believe the pain I felt when I had to give the order for the bombs. I tried to dissuade your father, but he believed it to be the best solution." He paused. "I thanked the Lord many times afterwards that you got away in time."

"Oh, Vitto," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I've missed you."

She wrapped her arms around her cousin, hugging him tightly. He held her against him in a protective bubble. In that moment, Tressa knew what she had to do. It was her fault that Adrian had gotten captured. She'd caused the problem, and now she had to undo it. The only way she could do that was by playing along. She'd return with Vitto to her father's palace, play the trusting daughter she'd always been and figure out a way to get Adrian out of there. She owed it to him... and her guilty conscience. 

"Do you think there are others, sir?" The question came from one of the soldiers. She pulled away from Vitto, wiping her eyes. 

Her cousin looked down at her questioningly. 

"No," she replied. "No, he brought me here by himself."

The soldiers eyes flitted from her to Vitto again. "Do you think we should run a check, sir, just in case?"

Vitto shook his head. "I trust the princess. Gather the men. We need to take our prisoner home."

As Tressa got into the jeep, worriedly looking over at Adrian's prone body lying in the back, only one sullen thought remained in her mind. 

She really, really ought to follow instructions.

*

The trio watched in silence as the jeep sped away, followed by a barrage of others, leaving behind a very relieved population of villagers.

Marcie was the first to speak.

"Do you think the princess..." she stopped, at a loss for words. 

"Betrayed us?" Bull supplied. 

All they'd seen was Adrian, unconscious, being loaded onto the back of a jeep while the princess stood, hugging Vittorio Poverelli, her cousin and the head of Augustine's army. 

"I won't be surprised," Bull added. 

Luc sighed. "Neither would I. She has no reason to be loyal to us." Even so, he could not help but feel the hurt of her betrayal. He'd actually thought they'd connected. She'd teased him, played with his hair... just like a friend. 

Marcie tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "So what do we do now?"

"We need to contact as many people as possible to help get Adrian out. I need his laptop. Where is it?"

"With His Majesty, in the hut," Bull replied. 

Luc steeled himself against the pain of having seen his brother's prone form being handled like a sack of garbage. Instead, he used the anger and despair he felt to fuel his determination to get Adrian back. 

"Let's get to work."

*

She managed to slip Adrian's mobile out of his pocket while the soldiers were otherwise occupied. She quickly slid it into her own pocket as casually as she could. Then, turning his head slightly, she bent forward to check his wound. It was still bleeding, which worried her. Shouldn't it have stopped by now? He was losing way too much blood!

"Adrian. Adrian, can you hear me?" she whispered in his ear. His eyelids twitched, but just barely. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Hang in there... I will get you out. I promise."

Standing in front of the jeep, Vitto hissed that her father was on his way. 

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She had to face the man sans the disgust she now felt for him. She needed to be the devoted, ever-loving daughter he'd always known. God, that was going to be difficult. 

She plastered a smile to her face and jumped off the back of the jeep, ready as she'd ever been to face the man who'd tried to kill her. Only God could give her the strength to see her task through. 

*

"My darling girl, I'm so glad you're home." Ensconced in her father's arms, Tressa struggled to keep herself from recoiling physically. Her father had rushed towards her in all his resplendent glory as soon as he'd seen her. Tears had glimmered in his eyes; concern had been etched into his features. When she'd gotten her degree, he'd reacted the same way. His chest had been thrust forward with pride and he'd had tears in his eyes as well. She'd been so happy to make her father proud. But now... his tears didn't move her. She felt nothing but empty sorrow. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could change the past.

"Are you well?" he asked, pulling her away from his chest to examine her. His eyes roamed over her body, checking for injuries. It was as though nothing had changed, she thought to herself. It's as though I'm not the daughter he tried to kill. How could he act as though nothing has changed?

Despite the burning, confusing questions rioting inside her, Tressa reminded herself of her plan. She, too, was going to pretend she knew nothing about the bombing. It was the only way she could think of to help Adrian. 

"I'm fine, daddy," she said with a smile. "I'm just glad to be home."

She stepped forward to hug him again, just because she couldn't bear to look into his eyes anymore. Her father, she though. Her own flesh and blood. It would take her a while to get used to the idea that she could no longer depend on him. 

"Listen, baby girl, I want you to go to your room and rest. These past few weeks have been hell on you, I can tell. Let me attend to the bastards that kidnapped you. I'll take care of everything."

"Yes, daddy," she replied, her voice muffled against his suit-covered chest. "Make them pay."

She didn't know if he heard her but he dropped a kiss on her forehead, as he'd done every night since she'd been a kid. She closed her eyes against the pain that tore through her at the memory.

"Go," he prodded her. And she left. She fought the urge to turn back to look at Adrian. She knew that if anyone saw even a measure of concern in her eyes, she'd be in deep trouble. 

And she couldn't afford that. 

*

"Lucio, Luc, are you there?"

Luc's eyes widened as he heard Tressa's voice over the phone. When he'd seen Adrian's number on his screen, he'd assumed Adrian had made a quick escape and was calling to let him know. Now, the hope died a quick death. 

"Yes," he said, motioning for Bull to come closer and switching the speakerphone on. They were all gathered in the hut, trying to come up with a fool-proof plan to bail Adrian out. 

"Oh, thank god. He's got Adrian, Luc! My father's got Adrian."

"We know. And we also know how he got Adrian."

"W-what? What do you mean?" Her tone seemed uncertain. 

"We saw you, Tressa. We know you had something to do with Adrian being captured."

He heard her breath hitch over the phone. "No, I... no, I didn't! I didn't do anything, I swear. Adrian was going to shoot my cousin and I couldn't let him so I stood between them and then some soldier snuck up behind Adrian and whacked him in the head with his rifle. That's what happened. It wasn't intentional, I swear." Her voice was high-pitched and panicked. 

Luc sighed. "Why are you calling me, Tressa?"

"I- I just wanted to tell you that I intend to get Adrian out."

Luc raised an eyebrow. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"I don't really know yet. But I will. I promise you." She took a deep breath. "What can you do from your side?"

"I don't know, Tressa," Luc said, sounding unsure. Was this a trap? Was Augustine using his daughter to find out where the rest of Adrian's crew was hiding? "Why do you have Adrian's phone?"

"I slipped it out of his pocket to contact you. My father doesn't know."

"Why should we trust you? You're the one that got Adrian into trouble in the first place."

There was a moment of silence over the phone. Then, she said, "I have nothing to lose and nothing to gain. The only thing I can do now is fight for what I think is right." She winced. "As cheesy as that sounds."

Bull nodded, letting Luc know that he trusted the princess. But Luc wasn't convinced. 

"I don't think..."

"Look," her voice was sharp now. "You want your brother and I want to leave this damn place with a clean conscience. I will help you get him out, but I need some goddamn help!" Before he could comment, she continued. "If you choose not to, I will still do my best to get him out of here. And if I succeed, I will tell him that you didn't want to help me and I'll make sure he kicks your ass!"

Luc was taken aback by her sudden change. She was angry, yes, but her anger seemed to be laced with desperation. 

Luc looked at Bull, who nodded yet again. Well, hell, as long as they didn't reveal any secrets, what did they have to lose?

"Ok," he said. "What do you need?"

*

She'd asked for a distraction. Something to divert her father's attention from Adrian. Luc thought about it, drumming his fingers against the laptop. 

"Do you think it's a trap?" he asked Bull with a frown. 

Bull drew his knees up and draped an arm over them. 

"I don't think so. She wouldn't do anything to help her father after what he tried to do to her."

"You think so?"

Bull nodded. "There was something in her eyes this morning. Something new when she looked at Adrian."

Luc gave Bull a dead stare. "No."

"Yes."

Luc looked pained. "Christ, what did Adrian do?"

"It's not my duty to know that." He paused. "Though I do wonder about the two hours they were missing from the village this morning."

Luc looked at the laptop screen, though he couldn't focus on the words there. "He took her to the pond for a bath," he said instead. 

"For two hours? You know better."

"What are you trying to say, Bull? That Adrian fucked loyalty into the princess?"

Sergei, who was lying on the wooden bed not far away, murmured, "Watch your mouth, my boy. Curses are beneath you."

"Sorry," Luc muttered under his breath. Then he shot Bull a look. "But you know what I mean."

"I saw the look in her eyes. She has feelings for him."

Luc sighed. "I don't buy it. Adrian treated her like shi- crap. No girl can fall in love with a guy who treats her the way Adrian did."

"If you two would stop gossiping and find a way to get my grandson out of Augustine's clutches, I will be grateful," Sergei interjected. 

Luc sighed. Grandfather was right. They were wasting precious time. "Go or no go?"

"I say go." Bull's expression was firm. 

Luc nodded. "Ok, we create a distraction. How? Where? On what basis?"

"I believe I can help you," Sergei said, struggling to sit up. His frail arms wobbled frighteningly and Marcie quickly rushed over to help him. "Bring Julian to me."

*

Tressa sat on her bed, hugging Mr. Snuffles to her chest. Mr. Snuffles had been her favorite stuffed elephant since pre-school. She'd absolutely adored the grey animal, even going so far as to vow she'd marry him when she grew up. And almost twenty years later, she still found comfort in him. 

She'd screwed up. Screwed up big. She should've just stayed put. Why, god, why did she have to disobey instructions all the damn time? Why did she have to keep getting into trouble? Was it her curse?

But she couldn't have stood there, could she? In all honesty, could she have stood there like a simpleton and watched her cousin be shot down by Adrian? Impossible. But would Adrian have shot Vitto in the first place? He had to know that Vitto was her cousin and she'd never forgive him if he did so. After all the trouble he'd gone through to make her stop hating him, shooting her cousin would be the stupidest thing he could do. 

She stared at the phone, wondering when in hell Lucio would be calling back with the plan. The thought of Adrian in her father's clutches made her stomach roil. It had been three hours and twenty-one minutes. God only knew what her father was doing to him. 

He was still alive. She had to believe that. The alternative would be unacceptable to her. Her heart wouldn't be able to take it. Either way, she'd know if he was dead. 

She startled herself by her thought. I'd know? How the hell would I know? Is he my boyfriend? My husband? My soul mate? No! He's just my... my lover. 

Her lover. She'd never put that term to anyone before. And though it made a warm glow surround her heart, it also made her more determined to get him out. 

And then what? You'd live happily ever after?

She frowned. Where were those questions coming from? Sure, she didn't actually have a plan for the future. But she'd like to think that it involved him.

Just because he fucked you good doesn't mean he wants a commitment.

But it was more than that. It was more than just sex. It was...

A knock sounded at her door, making her jump upright in bed. 

"Y-yes?" she called out.


"Open the door, baby girl," her father replied, his voice muffled by the door.

Panicked, she quickly stuffed the phone under her pillows, checked her reflection in the mirror for anything that would give her away, and opened the door. 

"Daddy!" she said cheerfully, adjusting the yellow long-sleeved top she'd changed into after her shower. 

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling her into a hug yet again. "I've missed you. You have no idea how you worried me!" His hug seemed to be crushing her rib cage. "You're not allowed to leave the palace again, you understand?"

Biting her lower lip, Tressa nodded. 

"Good." 

Then her father's eyes hardened. "I'll make that bastard pay for what he did to you, sweetheart. Don't you worry. I'll use him to bring out each and every one of those traitors who think they can take me down."

"Yes, daddy," she said, trying to be supportive. She moved to sit at the end of the bed, just wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Her father acted as though nothing had changed, and perhaps nothing had changed for him. But she'd never forget that moment of utter despair when she realized that her father had tried to kill her. It had been her wake up call. And she was never going back to sleep. 




St. Vicente Ch. 04



"What can you tell me about them, Tressa?" he asked, making her snap out of her thoughts. "Did they tell you anything? Do anything? Show you anything?"

Tressa pretended to think about the question. There was no way in hell she was telling her father anything about the St. Vicente family, but she needed to keep up her ruse. 

"I-I think he mentioned something about wanting to take over your throne," she stated, knowing she was just repeating the obvious. 

Her father seemed impatient now. "Anything else?" he asked. 

She pretended to think about it again. "The house!" she said suddenly, jumping to her feet. "The house was bombed!"

"Yes," Augustine said, finally understanding that there was nothing he'd get from his airheaded daughter. "Well, I'll leave you to rest then, dear."

Tressa covered a yawn with her hand, flopping back onto the bed again. "Ok, daddy. I'm tired anyway."

"Sleep well," Augustine replied, shutting the door. 

She waited for her father to walk away before turning the lock and diving for the bed again. She checked the phone. Still no call. 

Damn it!

*

She fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep while waiting for the call. In it, she saw herself in a boat. A storm swirled around her, threatening to capsize the fragile contraption made of wood. She clung to it, frantically calling out to the only person she knew that would help her. Adrian, Adrian. But he was away. In his castle, she knew. High on the hill. Adrian was in his castle and wouldn't come down to help her. She grabbed the oars, knowing it was her only chance. She needed to row to shore. But as she gripped the oars, a sharp, rending pain tore through her. She looked down. Bright red blood formed a puddle under her. She was bleeding... bleeding so badly... and there was a noise...

She was wide awake a minute later, panting, sitting up on her bed. The sun had set and the room was completely dark. 

The phone, she thought, grappling for it blindly in the dark. The phone woke me up. 

"H-hello?" she breathed into it, still half-immersed in her dream. The feel of the angry waters around her had been so real.

"Tressa!" Luc's panic-filled voice brought her back to reality. "Tressa, you have to leave. Now."

"What?" she asked, confused but already on her feet. "Why? What's happening?"

Luc sounded as though he was running. "Things got out of hand. Grandfather asked Julian to create some sort of distraction for Augustine so we could get Adrian out. Julian told his sons to gather his friends but his friends revealed our problem to their families and news spread."

"So, what're you saying?" Tressa asked, hurriedly putting on her running shoes – just in case.

"You need to get out of palace. You hear me? The supporters of the St. Vicente monarchy are on their way there. They intend to take control of the palace, free Adrian and usurp Augustine from his seat of power. You don't want to be caught."

"I'm not leaving without Adrian."

"God damnit!" Luc cursed into the phone. "Adrian won't be hurt if they get to him, but trust me, Tressa, you'll be hurt plenty."

She held her ground. "I don't care, Luc. I got him into this mess and I'm getting him out of it."

"Tressa -."

"No, you listen to me. My father has weapons. Good weapons. He could probably shoot every supporter down. I don't want that to happen. You need to find a way to divert his attention without hurting the people. I'll take care of Adrian. Trust me. I'll find a way."

She cut the line and slipped the phone into her pocket. Moving to the window, she peeked outside, wondering how long the supporters would take to arrive. She'd left Adrian in her father's clutches for way too long. She was afraid to think about what her father had done to him in the past few hours. 

Just as she was about to close the curtains, something in the distance caught her eye. It seemed as though the black mass she'd thought was a forest, was moving. Oh god, she thought, fear rising in her throat. That was a lot of people! And they were all heading this way with one purpose. 

She turned away, anxiety rising in her gut. She could do this! She'd been through so much over the past few days, learned so much. She could definitely do this!

Bracing herself, she stepped out of the room. 

*

The hallway was empty. That was unusual. The house was always milling with people. The sudden change made Tressa nervous. Something was different and she was sure it wasn't a good thing. 

She had no idea where to go or where to begin looking. Her father had never told her where the traitors were kept. She vaguely recalled that they had a cellar, and though it seemed like an appropriate place for... punishment... she was pretty sure they only kept wines there. Did the house have a dungeon, maybe? Or a torture chamber? She really didn't know. 

Gnawing on her lower lip, she paused in front of the door to her father's room. He wouldn't keep Adrian there, would he?

As she debated the idea, a bright flash of light rendered her blind for a second. She stepped back, trying to get her bearing, when the light dimmed to a small ball of yellow floating in the air. 

"What the..." she said out loud, reaching out for it. It moved away quickly, as though it was controlled by invisible strings. It floated almost buoyantly in the air, bobbing up and down, as though waiting for her. She looked around, wondering if it was a prank. Her young cousins were always trying to freak her out. 

I've no time for this, she thought frantically. I need to find Adrian.

Just as she was about to turn away, the light flashed again, brighter this time. She cursed, covering her eyes. Whoever was doing this was going to get a sound beating from her. 

Then the light moved further away, as though encouraging her to follow it. When she ignored it, the flashing began again, pissing her off. She strode forward to capture the little ball – it had to be some sort of little light bulb – when it zipped away down the corridor. She ran after it, feeling a compulsion to follow it, even though she knew she ought to be looking for Adrian. 

She ran down several flights of stairs and found herself in the dingy basement. It was dark and the lightball was the only source of illumination. It stopped in front of a big oak door and when Tressa was a few feet away from it, zipped through the door. Startled, Tressa reached out to pull the door open. 

Standing in front of her was a guard. 

He bowed to her.

"I'm afraid your father has left the room, Your Highness. I do believe he is in his study if you are looking for him."

She blinked, not understanding what the guard meant. Where was she? 

"What is this room?" she asked. 

The guard gave her an assessing look. "It is where we keep the prisoners who commit high treason."

Realization dawned quickly. This must be where they were keeping Adrian. Then the light...?

"I'd like to see Adriano St. Vicente," she commanded in her most authoritative voice. 

The guard looked uncomfortable. 

"I'm afraid I have express orders not to let anyone in."

"I am anyone?" she asked, her voice warning him not to push her. "I'm the princess of this country and I demand entry to this room."

"Your Highness, I-."

"You will do as you are bid, or I swear to god, I will see out of a job by the end of the day."

The guard looked distinctly uncomfortable. He knew that it he spited the princess, she could make her words a reality. He had several mouths to feed at home; he couldn't afford to be jobless. 

He moved away slightly, revealing another door at his back. "Perhaps just a few minutes."

She nodded curtly. "Good."

Before she could move forward, he asked, "May I know the purpose of this visit?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "This is the bastard who held me captive for god knows how long. Why do you think I want to see him?"

The guard didn't say another word. He simply shoved the heavy oak door open and shut it behind her.

Her heart nearly stopped beating at the sight in front of her. Adrian, chained to the wall, his head hung low in unconsciousness. She ran to him, missing the little glow of light that followed her every step of the way. 

She knelt before him, grasping his head between her hands. 

"Adrian, Adrian, can you hear me?"

There was no response. 

She laid trembling fingers against his throat, looking for a pulse. A keening cry left her lips as she found one, weak and unsteady. 

"Adrian, please, please, open your eyes," she begged, tapping his cheek lightly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. Please wake up. Please."

He was completely out of it. There was no response at all. Fighting the rising panic, she looked around for the key to his chains. Maybe if she could get him to lie down, it would help the blood flow back to his head. 

She found the keys to the chains on a hook by the door. They were old keys, large and cumbersome and weighed a ton. It took her a while to find the matching lock and key, and it was at least twenty minutes later that she had him on the floor. 

She was just about to try to wake him up again when a loud noise in the distance caught her attention. The sound of gunfire was unmistakable. 

"Shit! Adrian, come on! Wake up wake up wake up!"

Still, he didn't move. 

The sound of gunfire was getting louder. Much too loud. Her heart was thudding furiously in her chest and she knew she was on the verge of a panic attack.

The phone began to buzz and she pulled it out of her pocket. Maybe it was Luc. Maybe he'd come down to help her with Adrian. 

"L-luc?" Her voice trembled as she spoke into the phone. 

"It's Bull" was the terse reply. "I need you to get out of the building, Tressa. Now."

There was no room for argument in his voice. Tressa shook her head, not realizing that he wouldn't be able to see the action. "I c-can't. Adrian's here. He's hurt."

"Alive?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Where is he being kept?"

"In the basement. I – I think he needs help."

"We'll find help." A moment later, there was a roar on Bull's end of the line and she could hear nothing. People were shouting. She couldn't make out what exactly they said, but it clearly showed that they were unhappy. 

"Bull?" she said into the phone. "Bull?"

The line went dead. 

She cursed, setting the phone down beside Adrian and dragging his head onto her lap. She winced when she saw a small spot of blood on the floor. He was still bleeding? God, that couldn't be good. 

"Adrian," she whispered, bending over so that he'd hear her. "Adrian, listen to me. I'm so sorry I got you into this mess. I should've just stayed in the trees. I don't think you would've shot Vitto, would you? Oh god. This is my fault. All my fault."

The phone beeped again but she didn't glance at it. 

"Please, open your eyes. I don't want you to die. You've fought for so much; you can't give up. Think about your grandfather, your father... your family. They're all counting on you."

His eyelids twitched slightly, making her breath hitch. It gave her hope. 

"Adrian, the last twenty-four hours have been completely insane for me. You showed me the other side of you that makes me want to see so much more. Please don't go before anything can..."

She looked up sharply as the door to the basement burst open. The guard who'd been standing outside came flying through, landing a few feet away from where she sat with Adrian draped across her. Shocked, she looked up as a large horde of angry men filled the room. 

"Isn't that the princess?" The last word was said as a leer. 

She stared, stupefied as even more men filled the rooms, carrying primitive weapons that looked like they were home-made. Some of them had blood stains on their clothing; others simply wore a look of pure hatred as they looked at her. 

Something thick was lodged in her throat. Fear. She couldn't speak, couldn't think. All she knew was that these men were out to hurt her. 

As she stared at them, fighting rising panic and desperation, the little ball of flame that had been floating nearby, unnoticed, circled Adrian's head and disappeared. A second later, she was being pulled down and rolled under him, though his eyes were barely open. 

He looked toward the men and said one word, "Don't."

*

They locked her in her room. Tressa had been furious about that, but Luc and Bull had agreed that it was the safest plan. The people had stormed the house but her father was nowhere to be found. 

They'd bandaged Adrian's head. It was a severe concussion but it had stopped bleeding. He'd even been awake enough to whisper a few words to Luc. She'd been so happy that he was alive that she'd cried her eyes out quite embarrassingly. 

Now it was several hours later and she still had no news. The mass of people was still gathered in front of the house, making her wonder what exactly they were waiting for. 

A soft clicking sound caught her attention and Tressa turned from the window just in time to see Vitto slip into the room. 

"Oh my god!" she squeaked, noticing the dark blood stains on Vitto's uniform. "Vitto, are you ok?"

He breathed heavily and leaned back against the door. "Yes. It's not my blood."

"What happened?"

"They stormed the whole place, Tressa. There's nowhere to hide."

"I know," she said, her voice soft. "But it's rightfully theirs, isn't it?"

"What?"

She bit her lip. "You don't know the story?"

He stared at her for the moment before sighing. "Yes, I know. It's not something we talk about."

"Why?"

"Your father believes that if we don't talk about it, we'll forget it."

She shook her head. "I didn't know. I had to have strangers tell me the story."

Luc ran a hand over his face. He was tired and looked it. "Tressa, we don't have time for this. We have to go."

"But-."

"I've had Armand bring a boat out for us, about two miles from here. If we can get to the boat, we can escape."

Tressa took a step away from him. "But I don't want to go."

"What? Tressa, are you crazy? There's a horde of bloodthirsty people outside waiting for anyone of Augustine blood to be found just to rip them apart!"

"I – Lucio and Bull told me to stay here. I'm staying here." She'd learned to listen to instruction the hard way. 

"And you trust them? These people who want to ruin your family?"

"I – I do." She lifted her chin stubbornly. 

"Tressa, it's not safe..."

At that moment, gunfire rang out again. Vitto pulled her down and covered her body with his. 

"We have to get out of here," he shouted above the ear-rending noise. 

"You go," she shouted back. "I'm not coming."

"We're wasting goddamn time arguing! Let's go!" 

He tried to pull her with him, but she held back. "Please, Vitto. I'm staying!"

He let out a frustrated noise. "I swear to you, Tressa, if you leave with me now, I'll bring you back here once it's safe. But please, just please come with me right now!"

She held back, unsure. 

"I swear, Tressa. Your safety is what's important."

She bit her lip. 

"Come on!"

She went.

*

Bull watched as they ran out of the house through a hidden exit. He had let them run. 

She'd told him, "Tell Adrian to... to... look for me if I'm not back."

But he wouldn't. Adrian had played with that girl enough. She'd quite obviously fallen for him. 

This would end today. Now. 

Quietly, he shut the trap door and walked back to the crowd.

*



St. Vicente



"Don't shy away, princess. This baby has a range of little more than two miles. It'll catch you."

The fear was apparent in her eyes. He fondled the gun as he leaned against the table, standing directly in front of her. Her throat worked as she swallowed.

"He broke the third rule when he dispatched the first plane to Ireland. Now," he said, pausing. "Do you remember how to play the game or do I have to explain the rules to you?"

The room was silent for a while. Lucio had left to confer with a few men outside. Tressa's fringe covered her eyes as she looked away, trying not to cry. God, a few hours ago, she'd been contently making dinner in this very same room. Why did fate have to intervene this way?

"I remember," she said softly.

"What was that?" the arrogant prick asked her. "I couldn't hear you, sweetheart."

"I said I remember," she repeated loudly. She was thankful that her voice didn't quiver.

"Look at me." He slid the gun under her chin and lifted her face. The abject fear in her eyes was almost enough to make Adrian feel guilty. Almost. "Now say it again."

"I remember how to play."

"That's excellent, since we're going to play it. Just a little twist, however. You don't get your turn. I get one shot for each mistake your father makes."

He took the gun from under her chin and spun the barrel. Without warning, he raised it to her head and pulled the trigger.

"Lucky you," he commented when the empty click sounded through the room.

She closed her eyes to mask her tears, not wanting him to see them. At that moment, she knew that she'd never hate anyone as much as she hated the man in front of her. He played with her life as though it were nothing but a toy.

She'd never been so aware of her own breathing. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as she heard another click from the black gun. She felt the tears scald her cheeks, and heard someone's laughter. Oh god. She didn't want to die. There were so many things she wanted to do if she lived.

There was only one bullet in the gun. And he'd already fired two shots. What were the chances that the next one would be an empty shot as well?

He was just about to pull the trigger on the third shot when Lucio entered the kitchen. He took in the crying girl and the ruthless look in Adrian's eyes.

"Sir, we have to leave. Augustine's men from England are approaching very quickly."

The gun disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

Adrian grasped the girl's chin and made her look him in the eye. His other hand pushed her fringe back. "Looks like we have to play another time, eh? I'd enjoy that very much."

He smiled, and Tressa felt like throwing up. When he turned away from her, she sagged onto her seat. She felt completely drained and useless. There was no way for her to escape and there was nothing she could do to go against that... that... asshole. It was the most infuriating situation she'd found herself in.

Lucio looked at the defeated little girl and took pity on her. Though 23, he knew she probably hadn't had much experience with the real world. And she was paying for her father's mistakes. It wasn't really fair to her, but it was the only way they could get to Augustine and fulfill their family's wishes.

"Come, princess. We should go."

He should've felt victorious when she came with him without complaint, but he knew that Adrian had somehow broken her and sent her into a state of mental shock. He had to stifle the urge to reach out and straighten her messy French braid because the gesture showed comfort, and Adrian would kill him if he tried to comfort the enemy.

*

The man called Bull pushed her along the walkway outside the house. They were heading towards a nondescript black van parked near the woods. There was no one else in sight, save for Lucio and Adrian who were already at the van.

She had her traveling bag in her hand, loaded with clothes she'd need for a week. When Adrian had told her to head upstairs to pack her clothes, she'd thought he was joking. She couldn't imagine that whatever disagreement he had with her father could last for more than a few days.

But she'd packed anyway -- anything not to spark that man's temper. She couldn't quite get over the fact that he'd held a gun to her head and had pulled the trigger. The image of him doing that kept creeping up and she had the most permanent goosebumps in history.

The man scared her. Beyond reason, beyond anything she'd actually understand, he scared her. It was probably his eyes. They were so cold and merciless, as though there was no stopping him when he'd decided that she should be dead. She remembered a line from To Kill a Mockingbird where Scout would describe her aunt as being "cold and there". That was how she saw Adrian, except in a very different context.

The techie was a different thing. She didn't think he was as scary as his boss. Sure, at first he'd scared her, but his baby blues lacked the chills that Adrian's sapphire eyes gave her. He also had a rather mild aura around him, which sort of comforted her, though she didn't know if she was stupid to find comfort in any of her captors.

Tressa knew that she should be shocked by the sudden change in her life, but in her heart, she still believed that daddy would solve the issue and bring her back home as quickly as possible. These people couldn't possibly hurt her; she was the princess of St Vicente. They would be wanted men for life if they hurt a hair on her head. But the only possible flaw in Tressa's logic was that these men wouldn't care if they were jailed or not, as long as they completed their mission.

When she reached the van, the man called Bull pushed her into the back and warned her to stay put. The back of the van had obviously been hooked up for the mission. In between the two benches was a black table with loads of cables running under it. There was a flatscreen TV built into the centre of the table as well. Slowly, as though afraid to set something off, Tressa set her bag down and took a seat at the edge of one bench. She could hear the men talking outside, and they seemed deep in conversation. Bull was also nowhere to be seen. Was she unguarded? Or was that too big an oversight for her to hope for?

Her heart picked up a nervous beat as she slid to the entrance of the van and looked out. The men were conversing near the driver's seat and a few of them were exiting the house. None of them were standing guard for her and she was very near the woods. If she slipped out, no one would notice. She could cut across the woods and run to the nearest town where she'd be able to call her father and hide from her captors.

Her fragile plan didn't even stand a chance. She'd taken barely two steps from the van when she was pulled back by a forearm against her throat. It pressed heavily against the base of her throat, making breathing improbable. Her legs kicked outward in a struggle, her fingers clawing at the arm, and moments later, she found herself sprawled in the van, her palm and cheek having scraped the hard floor. It stung really badly and she didn't know if she was bleeding. She looked up at the man that had mishandled her so brutally.

"I believe my man told you to stay put," he said, his sapphire eyes darkening.

She raised her fingers to touch her cheek and came away with a smear of blood. The sight of it brought tears of anger to her eyes.

"You're crazy if you think I'd do what you and your men tell me to do," she said petulantly, then turned away to get one of her shirts from her bag when she felt the dribble of blood run down her chin.

"No, I doubt you would. You're probably used to giving orders instead of taking them, am I right?" He leaned against the side of the van and watched amusedly as she dabbed at her wounds. The scrapes would heal easily in a matter of days. But then again, she probably wasn't used to any kind of pain at all.

Tressa wrapped a cotton tank top over her palm to stop the flow of blood. It wasn't bleeding very much, but she'd never bled before in her life, so the amount looked massive to her. She wasn't going to answer his stupid question, though it was true that she hadn't needed to take orders from many people before. Her father and elder brother were the only two who ordered her to do things, and even then, only sometimes. She hated that he assumed he knew her so well.

Something in his pocket beeped, and he took out a device that was little larger than a cell phone and flipped it open. She watched as his lips thinned.

"Get in the van," he shouted to the men who were carrying the equipment out of the house.

She scooted in as three men filled the entrance and slid in beside and across from her. Adrian and Lucio took the front seat. She could see more men getting into a van parked a few meters away.

She wasn't allowed to see more, however, as almost as soon as the door was closed, they were on their way. The men around her, except for Bull, booted their computers again and began typing rapidly on them. Tressa held her shirt to her face and looked at the man called Bull, who was sitting beside her with his arms crossed. His features were unreadable, as was the usual.

In another situation, she'd probably have found him quite handsome, with his dark chocolate skin and shapely lips. He was packing quite a bit of solid muscle too, she noticed as her arms brushed against his as she settled back in her seat. The pain on her cheek was dulling to a throb, and she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. Hopefully, when she woke up, she'd be at home, cocooned in her 5000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

She heard the buzz around her, but she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, still pressing the tank top to her face. When she opened them again, there was an image on the TV screen installed in the table in front of her.

"Daddy," she whispered, dropping the cloth. Kneeling, she peered closely at the image. It was coming from some kind of security camera in the house.

The quality of the camera was good enough to see that her father was spitting mad. He was issuing orders like a madman, and his curly hair was frazzled. He looked so lost, yet so angry and Tressa knew it was because of her. She should have listened to her father when he'd said it was much safer if she could rent a writing studio in the countryside near home. Now she'd become an inconvenience to him.

"Could you at least tell him that I'm safe?" she shouted in the general direction of their leader, Adrian. He barely flicked a glance at her in the rearview mirror.

"Sit back, princess. He's going to go through a lot more before I'm done. There's no sense in starting to worry now."

"But you... you can't do this! It's illegal! Why are you doing this anyway? You tell me that my father has tried to kill you over the years, yet you don't tell me why. You've held me captive, yet you haven't told me what you're going to do with me. In case you haven't fully understood your situation, you're going against the King of St Vicente and will probably face the death sentence if you ever get caught!"

She was out of breath after her sputtering tirade, yet she'd only managed to amuse him, if the decadent tilt of his lips was any indication. He adjusted the rearview mirror so that he could look at her.

"Okay, sweetheart. Looks like you're not getting one thing straight. We have you hostage. You are at our mercy. I only need some sort of proof that you're alive to keep your father on his toes. I don't exactly need you alive. A lock of your hair would do. Or maybe a video testament. You're just the beginning. We can chuck the beginning when we get to the end."

She swallowed and looked away from his burning navy blue eyes.

"Would you at least tell me who you are?" Her voice sounded small, even to herself. But what could he expect after threatening to kill her? He tilted the mirror to its original position.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to enlighten you on a few aspects." He looked at Lucio, who nodded in affirmation. "See, princess, my name's Adriano Vicente, and I'm-."

"The rebels," Tressa finished. But it was impossible. The history books said that Adriano Vicente, son of the last St Vicente ruler, had been killed in the revolution. She had seen a picture of Carlo Vicente when she was younger, and upon hindsight, Adrian did look a lot like Carlo. A tight hand squeezed her gut.

"Very good," Adrian commented, ignoring the look that came upon her face. It was as if she'd fully understood what deep shit she was in. Good. "You're not as ignorant as you look."

"Y-you want my father to abdicate his throne." She said it as a statement, knowing it was true. His appraisal only cemented it.

"And you want to use me like a... like a... pawn."

"A more appropriate word would be 'bait'. But close enough."

Her hands were trembling as she settled back into her seat. She clasped them in front of her and just concentrated on breathing. The situation was far worse than she'd imagined. She felt like she was going to throw up.

"Daddy won't be stupid enough to heed your demands. He's much smarter than that."

"Really? He'll have to heed my demands if he wants to see you alive."

"I won't be used as a toy in your little game!"

He laughed, a really cruel sound that had her aching to throw something in a tantrum. "What made you think you had a choice, sweetheart?"

She wanted to shut him out. She wanted to shut everything out. Placing her hands over her ears, she bent low so that her head was in between her legs. It helped fight the nausea that rose at the mere thought of him, and the rush of blood in her ears helped drown everyone out. She stayed in that position for a long while, until the van finally came to a stop.

*

"Did you hit her?"

Adrian looked over at his brother as they entered the family jet. Lucio had put away the palmtop and was waiting for Adrian to reply. If it were anyone else, he'd ignore them and let them draw their own conclusions. But this was his brother. His kin. He'd never been able to disrespect blood relatives.

"No," he said instead, signaling to the pilot. They should be ready to go in five. Bull herded the princess up the jet and the rest of the men filed in.

"Then why is she hurt?" Lucio's tone could have been called confrontational. Adrian frowned.

"What's it to you, brother?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

Lucio shrugged. "I just think she deserves a little compassion. It wasn't her fault that her father betrayed our grandfather. Hell, she wasn't even born then. It isn't-."

"Isn't what, Luc? Isn't her battle, is that what you were going to say?" Adrian pierced his brother with a steely look. "We always have to pay for the sin of our ancestors, baby brother. There's no way to escape a crime. The burden is always passed down, from father to son."

"She's just a girl, Adrian."

"She's twenty-three. That's hardly an age for a girl. My mother gave birth to me when she was twenty, and she was as tough as nails."

Even as Adrian said that, they watched as the princess dashed for the washroom with a hand over her mouth. Even through the doors of the cubicle, they could hear her retching.

"Not every woman is built like your mother, Adrian. I think you should be more careful with her."

Adrian righted his brother's suit, patted him on the chest and turned away. He'd had enough of his brother's sentimentalities for the day.

*

Tressa sat across from her captors, nibbling on her lower lip. Her crossed legs were tapping out a nervous rhythm and her fists were clenched. The jet was flying smoothly in the air, and yet her stomach was unsettled. She couldn't ever remember being thrown so far off centre in her life. It was upsetting her system.

She sucked dutifully on the mints that Lucio had given her after she'd left the washroom. Even though she was embarrassed that probably everyone on board the jet had heard her throwing up, she rationalized that they were the ones who'd caused her tummy to get upset in the first place.

The door to the jet had been open when she'd exited the washroom, and she'd even briefly considered making a run for it. But the pain on her cheek and palms were a constant reminder of what he could do so effortlessly to her if she decided to piss him off again. Other than that, the jet was surrounded by an open plain, so even if she decided to bolt, they could shoot her before she was even twenty meters away. She didn't know if it was cowardice or survival instincts that had her deciding that it wasn't worth the risk to make a run for it.

Now the jet had taken off and no one was talking. A few of the men were typing away on their high-tech gizmos, and Adrian, who sat opposite her, was staring into space with a frown between his brows. Funny, she hadn't thought him the kind of person to space out even for a minute.

She was only allowed to look at him for a couple of seconds before his eyes slowly turned to meet her stare. It was a rather freaky movement, because his body hadn't moved, just his eyes. She swallowed and looked away. It was suddenly getting very chilly in the cabin, though she could feel the occasional blasts of warmth from the heater. But her bare thighs and arms were going to break out in goosebumps soon if she didn't get a sweater or something.

Bull was sitting next to her, just like he had in the van. His face was expressionless, as usual.

"Uh, excuse me?" she said, her voice soft so as not to break the silence that hung around all of them like a dead cloud. But even though she kept her voice down to a whisper, she felt several pairs of eyes, including Bull's, turn in her direction.

He didn't show any indication that he'd heard her. He didn't raise an eyebrow, say 'yes, how may I help you?'. Nothing. He simply looked at her.

"Um, where's my bag? I want to get a sweater."

Bull's dark eyes flicked to someone seated in the opposite row. She didn't have to look to find out who it was. But he must have acquiesced to her demand, for Bull got out of his seat, opened up the cargo box in the front and brought back one of her sweaters.

"Thank you," she said, and took it gratefully. Slipping her shoes off and raising her legs, she crossed them on the seat, then covered her whole body with the sweater before sliding her arms through the sleeves. She felt warmer in an instant. With a small sigh, she crossed her arms over her upraised knees and leaned her head on it. The sky outside was inky and speckled with little blue stars, reminding her of the star-colored pet she used to have on Neopets when she was younger. What was her name again? Kauey the Kau or something like that. She'd been such a creative child.

She stared out of the window for a long while, and was awake even after the light dimmed and the pilot announced that they had another four hours before landing at their destination. She noticed that he was very careful not to mention where exactly they were landing, and that worried her. If the plan had been so well thought out, right up to what the pilot had to announce, would there be any loopholes she could use to escape? The probable answer scared her.

She closed her eyes, trying to numb the panic and despair that rose in her throat. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be anywhere but here...

*

Adrian knew the exact moment she fell asleep. Her shoulders lost their tension and her lips parted slightly. The messy strands of her hair came forward to cover her eyes and caress her cheek. Even from this distance, he could see what his callous actions had done to her skin. It was just a minor cut, but it looked angry and red at the moment and he nearly felt the pang of guilt again.

What the fuck? he thought to himself. That girl's father had killed his father and had attempted to assassinate him and his grandfather. Lucio's sentimental ways must be rubbing off on him if he could come up with an ounce of pity for the girl whose family had ruined his.




St. Vicente



As he watched, she raised her hand in her sleep and flicked off the hair that tickled her face. It was a very feminine action, almost kittenish in nature. Some might even say it was sexy.

He admitted to himself that she wasn't bad looking. In fact, his American friend, Jamie, would call her 'thick and juicy'. She wasn't skinny, but not oversized either. A definite handful with just enough meat around the hips and ass to jiggle when she walked. She was definitely Jamie's type. As for Adrian, he preferred the wild party girls that were common as dirt these days. They were uninhibited and giving in bed, and he supposed, more flexible than bigger girls. He'd never had a plus-sized woman himself - though he'd heard Jamie go on about his latest fuck buddies for ages - and didn't intend to do so anytime soon.

But the girl in front of him, plus-sized or not, was going to be the salvation of his family. They'd been waiting for Augustine to slip up and make a mistake for as long as Adrian could remember, and when he'd received a call from a source that the princess had left for Ireland and would be staying there for a year, it had felt almost surreal. It was the perfect opportunity, landing right onto their laps because Augustine had finally, finally slipped.

At first, Adrian had been suspicious that it had been Augustine's trap to wipe out the rebels, but after sending Bull to Ireland to ensure that the girl was there, planning for the kidnapping had been set into motion. It was easy, really. Take the girl, ransom her to the king in return for his abdication, and bring the Vicente family to power again. But what he didn't know was if Augustine would give up his throne for his daughter, selfish bastard that he was. In the event that he did not want to abdicate his position, Adrian would have to take drastic measures to drag Augustine's family name through the mud so Augustine would have no choice but to abdicate or be shamed. And even though Adrian knew it would be greatly pleasurable to shame the son of a bitch, he'd rather do without the messy procedures.

A soft sigh drew his gaze back to the girl. She was still asleep in the same awkward position. Her lime green socks were peeking out of the hem of the sweater, and she looked too much like a teenager for Adrian's liking. He frowned, resting his head on his palm. It was too easy to mistake her seemingly-innocent gestures as genuine. A simple, quick search of her room had already told him that she wasn't the least bit innocent, and that was the basis he used to assess her character.

He shouldn't feel guilty about using her to get to her father. It was the curse she was born with, just as he had been born with his.

She sighed again and rubbed her cheek back and forth against the sweater as though she was drawing comfort from it. In her sleep, her actions strummed a thoughtful cord within him because they were so much like a trusting kitten's. Adrian found himself hoping that he didn't hurt her too much by the time everything blew over.

*

She was jolted awake as the jet touched ground yet again. Tressa began bouncing on her seat because she didn't have her seatbelt on. When she reached for the two straps, her hands got tangled in her sweater and she wrestled with it for a few moments. By the time she untangled herself, the jet was slowing down and she had little use for the seatbelt already. Sighing, she bundled her sweater and tried to fix her hair, but when she looked up, she found everyone staring at her. Quickly, she looked down to check if something had slipped while she was sleeping, but realized soon enough that nothing was wrong with her. She ran a hand over her face to check if she'd drooled on herself or something equally shameful, but there was nothing amiss other than the sore scratch lines on her face. When she looked up again, everyone seemed to have found something else to occupy their time and she sat back in her seat to fix her hair again.

As quickly as she could, she braided it to get it out of the way and turned to Bull, who, as usual, looked like he was chiseled from cold marble.

"So, where are we?" she asked him, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

He seemed content to ignore her, but she wasn't feeling like being ignored at the moment. The nap had given her too much energy. She reached out to poke him in the arm. It was like poking stone; thank god she hadn't poked too hard.

"Hello?" she called when he still didn't respond.

"You got a question, princess?"

The question wasn't from Bull, but from the man she didn't particularly like looking at. The scratches on her palm and cheek began throbbing of their own volition as she turned to face Adrian.

"Uh, yes. Where are we?"

"I doubt you'll know where we are even if I wanted to reveal it to you."

What was that supposed to mean? "I think I would. My tutors taught me geography." She didn't catch the warning glint in Adrian's dark eyes. When he didn't respond, she said, "Well?"

The jet came to a stop. Bull grasped her arm. Even if she hadn't sensed it, he could tell that she was testing Adrian's patience. "We should go."

When she looked blankly from Bull to Adrian, he pulled her out of the chair. "Now," he growled and she hastened to slide her feet back into her shoes.

There was a jeep waiting for them as they descended the stairs. No other human being was in sight. They'd landed on some deserted landing strip for there was no airport official or security officers coming to greet them. There was just the van and the single occupant who did not seem inclined to step out of it.

She was pushed in the back seat and the door closed behind her. The auto-lock slammed with a click as she righted herself and moved to the other end of the seat. The driver seated in front of her wore a wool cap and dark-colored clothing. On his eyes was a pair of dark sunglasses. He was skinny yet lean and had perfectly manicured fingernails -- the latter she'd noticed because she'd been watching his hands on the steering wheel.

It felt like mere seconds before the other men were filling the van, with the Boss taking up the front seat of course. The rest of the men huddled into the back of the jeep and she found herself squished in between Lucio and Bull. Belatedly, she realized that Lucio smelled very...manly. He probably used some kind of cologne.

"How is grandfather?" Lucio asked the driver and it took Tressa a moment to realize that he'd switched to Italian.

"Better. But I think it's because of the girl. After thirty years, he's finally getting some justice. He's happy." The voice was distinctly feminine. She tried to get a good look at the driver, but her features were largely obscured by the shades.

"This is not justice," Tressa said softly. "My father is the rightful king. You cannot change that."

"She speaks Italian," the woman commented.

"Of course I do. It is my native tongue."

"You mean the tongue that you adopted after our forefathers brought your ancestors to our island as slaves?"

"Calm down and watch your driving," Adrian remarked sharply. Then he spoke to Tressa. "You do know that under our law, your father can be jailed and hung for treason? He plotted against his king whom he'd sworn fealty to."

"But it was a citizen-led revolution! My father was elected by the people to lead them. The citizens were homeless and starving and the king wasn't doing anything about it!"

"That is complete and utter -."

"Calm down, Coco." This time, the rebuke was from Lucio. "You can't fault the girl. You've seen what they've done to the history textbooks."

Tressa crossed her arms over her chest. "And what have they done to it?"

"They changed the facts about the revolution. The people were never suffering, princess. They are now, but they weren't then." That statement was from Adrian.

"Wha- what do you mean 'they are now'? The people are-."

"Sixty-five percent of the population is living below world poverty level and inflation is over 200 percent at the moment."

Tressa frowned. "That is not true. I've seen the Ministry's reports and they state clearly that 90.68 percent of the population has at least an average income of 28,000 US dollars a year."

Lucio sighed and took out his palmtop. "That is an official document, princess. Have you never heard of false reports?"

"But my father -."

"Is a lying, cheating bastard." Surprisingly, this was from Bull, who continued looking straight ahead even as he made that statement.

"No, he's not! Could you please stop talking about him like that! Daddy's never wanted to hurt anyone, and he only wants the best for his people." Her voice was becoming shrilly and she was getting worked up.

"Oh, really? Well, take a look at this."

Lucio slid the palmtop into her hands and hit the spacebar. A video started playing and she pushed her fringe out of her eyes to see it better.

The video was something like a documentary taken by a film student named Gregory Damon. It lasted for about ten minutes and she cringed through all of it. She nearly teared when the camera focused on a pretty young girl with a severe case of elephantiasis. In her interview, she stated that she'd contracted it because of the unclean drinking and sewage water in the countryside. The village around her was shabby at best and Tressa fought back a gasp.

The final scene was of a man being attacked on the street by a group of police officers. They were hitting the poor soul like madmen, and without an arrest warrant. She closed the palmtop, not wanting to see more.

The jeep came to a stop, and she got out of the car without a word. She didn't notice the sprawling house in front of her or that the smell of the sea was in the air. She simply followed her captors up the front steps and into the house. Her mind was still replaying the video, and she was debating within herself whether the video was real. It couldn't be... and yet, the seed of doubt had already been planted. Her unending loyalty to her father was coming into question and it made her distinctly uncomfortable.

She was shown to a room that was tastefully decorated, but she didn't notice the décor. As Bull put her bag on top of the wardrobe, she sat at the edge of the bed, still deep in thought.

"I'm glad you're thinking about it."

She heard Bull's voice from the doorway, but when she looked up, he was already gone. The only thing she heard was an automatic lock sliding home.

*

"Grandfather."

The old man was seated on the black leather sofa that he'd taken a liking to over the past decades. His walking stick was propped against the arm rest, ready to be used if he ever needed it.

Sergei Adriano Vicente XIV had been a proud, wealthy man but fate had dealt him a difficult hand. His throne had been stolen from him by the general of his army and he had seen his son bleed to death after an assassination attempt by the bastard Augustine. He'd outlived two daughters and his son, but he'd vowed that he would not outlive his grandchildren. He could not bear to see any of them suffer in death.

He watched as his eldest grandson, Adrian, came forward and knelt before him. It felt like yesterday that he'd held the satin-wrapped baby in his arms and named it Sergei Adriano Vicente the fifteenth. Now, the little innocent with the beady blue eyes was thirty-four and as thirsty as any youth for justice for the family. Sergei found himself wishing everyday that he could join his grandchildren in their bid to claim the throne again, but his bones were not up to the strain. After fracturing his hip from a fall, he hadn't been able to walk without assistance from a cursed stick. As frustrating as it was, he knew that there was no help for it.

His eldest knelt before him and took his hand, radiating the pleasure of a trip that had been highly successful.

"Is the girl here?" Sergei asked, keeping his eyes focused on the view beyond the balcony windows in front of him.

"Yes, grandfather. I've put her in the red room."

"Perfect choice, my boy. I've always associated treachery with the color red."

The room was silent as Adrian waited for his grandfather to continue. Sergei usually spoke a few sentences at a time because it was difficult for him to draw large breaths.

"How is she?"

"Spoilt," was Adrian's quick reply. "But not what I expected."

"Why so?"

"The pictures I saw of her... they must've been taken when she was much younger. She's more of a woman now, and possess the kind of tongue that makes a person want to throttle her. She never shuts up, even in the worst cases."

A breath wheezed out of Sergei. Adrian assumed it was a laugh.

"What did she do, my boy?"

"She argued with Coco on the way here. Though the funny thing is that I don't think she realized it was an argument. To her, I think it was a debate. She doesn't pick up the signs that people might be irritated or annoyed with her. She just keeps on talking."

"Reckless, is she, to argue with Coco like that?"

"Very. Coco's still seething about it now."

There was another silence, but this time, Adrian filled it with his words.

"Grandfather, she claims not to know the truth about the revolution or the suffering of the people."

Sergei's furry eyebrows came together. "But how can that be? Augustine would not keep that from his children, too, would he?"

"I am not sure. She could be lying, but I believe she's too naïve to. There was nothing but shock and repulsion on her face after seeing the Damon video."

"Which reminds me, Adrian, have we found Damon yet?"

"No, grandfather, we have not. I've sent Xavier after him, but there's been no reports. Could it be possible that they tracked him down and brought him back to the island?"

"It could be. I would not put it beyond the man who tried to kill us all."

Adrian lifted his grandfather's hand and kissed it.

"I will not let you down, grandfather. I will get you what is rightfully yours. She is the beginning. I know it."

"I trust you, my boy," Sergei said, running his hand through Adrian's short hair. "You will do the Vicente family proud."

Adrian bowed his head politely and excused himself when he saw Lucio enter the room. He nodded to his brother before leaving the private hall and taking the stairs up to the surveillance room. Bull was already there when he entered.

"What is she doing?" was the first thing he asked as he poured himself a cup of black coffee.

"Talking to herself," Bull replied with a slight smile.

Why had he expected such an answer? Adrian took a healthy sip of his coffee and watched the monitors. She was sprawled on the bed with her legs hanging over the side. A decent expanse of her stomach was exposed and her hands were flung out to her sides. True enough, she seemed to be talking to herself.

Adrian reached over and unplugged the headphone wire so that her voice would be transmitted to the whole room.

"But daddy's not mean -- how could he be mean? No, that evil man must be lying. But why would all of them lie? Could they only want daddy's money? But they're the rebels, they don't want money. They want his throne. Wait, so don't they have every motive to make me believe that my daddy's rule is dreadful? But then, why do I believe them, just a little? Oh god. You're talking to yourself. Listen! Oh my god, you just did it again. Okay, stop. Stop now."

Bull had an ear-splitting grin plastered on his face and Adrian just shook his head. He knew that she didn't know they had cameras fixed all over the house, so she couldn't be acting for their sakes. Even if it was supposed to be private, Adrian couldn't imagine anyone actually having conversations with themselves. It was what a child would do, not an adult. But then again, he was beginning to realize that she was more of a child than a grown woman in many ways.

They watched as she raised an arm to her nose and sniffed herself. Then she made a face. She made it a point not to talk to herself as she got up, ruffled through her traveling bag for something to wear and headed for the adjoining bathroom. Bull and Adrian watched as the bathroom door closed behind her. Bull was reaching for the switch that would change the monitor image to the camera in the bathroom, but Adrian stopped him.

"She's not going to escape."

Bull did not question Adrian. He simply nodded and stood.

"Pay a visit to your mother and sister. I think they are missing you."

Adrian had turned away, and was refilling his cup of coffee as he said that. Bull turned to thank his boss, but bowed and left the room instead.

Adrian took the seat Bull had vacated and toyed with the idea of watching the princess take a bath. It would embarrass her to know that he'd done so -- for he was going to tell her about the cameras before he let her go -- but he didn't know why he found that thought more appealing than it should be. He supposed it was the intrigue because she was a 'princess' by birth, and it was a novelty to watch what he was tempted to watch. But that was not accurate. He could not put his finger on the reason, really. He didn't know why he was so sorely tempted to flip the switch.

Leaning back on the seat with a scowl, he finished off his coffee and rose to put the cup away. It had been only eight minutes since the princess had entered the bathroom, and he knew it would probably be another hour before she emerged. But when she did, he wanted to talk to her. She needed to know the rules of the house and what she could and could not do when she was here. He also wanted her to know how she would suffer if and when her father makes mistakes.

He buzzed for Paulo to come in and watch the monitors. As he waited, of their own volition, his eyes flickered to the switch labeled 'bathroom' a few more times before Paulo pushed the door in. Adrian told him what he'd told Bull - that they were just going to watch the bedroom for the time being.

Then he left the room, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the red room on the second floor. He punched in the code and let himself in.

*

Tressa ran a towel over her wet hair as she exited the bathroom. Steam followed her into the bedroom, but it wasn't enough to mask the image of the man who was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her. She pulled the towel from her hair and held it in her hands.

"What-what are you doing here?"

"It's my house, princess" was his reply. She walked over to the table and laid the towel on it before turning to face him. "That was faster than I'd thought it would be."

"What?" She clasped her hands in front of her. His presence always disarmed and ruffled her feathers, and she hated it. Why did he have to look so intimidating?

"Your bath. Don't princesses have a one-hour minimum time limit for baths?"

She looked down at her hands. "Well, personally, I don't like to take baths because it uses more than 200 liters of water as opposed to the 50 liters of water that a shower takes. It's more environmentally friendly to take a shower, so I dropped the habit of taking baths when I was sixteen. I mean, the primary purpose of taking a bath is to get clean anyway, so why not take a shower? It seems only logical to me."

She raised her head and found him staring at her with an amused expression on his face. She knew she had a habit of rambling when she was nervous, but she hadn't just rambled, had she? No, she'd been merely giving him the answer he sought.

"Fair enough," he said, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Have a seat." She sat daintily on the edge of the chair behind her.

"I'm going to explain the rules you have to follow while you're here."

She nodded.

"The rules are simple. You are not to leave the room, try to hurt yourself with any of the blunt furniture, or jump out the bathroom window. Your meals will be delivered to you and a maid will come in to clean the room once a day. If you cooperate with us, I could make your time here easy for you. But if you don't, I really don't care how you're delivered to your father in the end. Any questions?" He paused. She didn't say anything. "Good."