Protecting Their Princess_A Snow White Romance

by Parker Grey

  Sven starts repeating the priest’s words. For the millionth time, I flex my fists against their bonds, but it’s pointless.

  I haven’t told Sven that no matter what I say, this marriage is completely null and void. I’m pretty sure that once he thinks I’m legally his bride, his plan is to toss me in his car and make for the border — maybe thinking that if we’re married, he’s got a legal right to do that.

  I don’t think Sven is very smart, but he’s got force on his side. He’s got a lot of armed men, and from the screaming pain in my shoulders and back, it’s obvious that he doesn’t mind hurting me.

  Right now, my best bet is to do anything I can to stay in the castle. It can’t be long now until someone realizes that I’m missing and comes looking for me.

  But what if they don’t, I think. Your parents think he’s proposing, and they’re probably going to let him have several hours to get away with this before they realize that he’s not.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s nearly impossible not to panic, but I’m trying.

  “Katarina!” Sven barks.

  I glare at him.

  “You may call me by my title,” I say, as haughtily as I can manage.

  Sven smiles nastily.

  “All right, Princess,” he says. “I’ll let you have that one last time before it’s Princess Consort. Or maybe I’ll demote you for un-princesslike behavior and you’ll have to live out the rest of your days as a duchess.”

  “So you’re forcing me to marry you, only to threaten that it won’t last?” I say as coolly as I can manage, though my heart is pounding in my chest. “Why bother at all?”

  “You KNOW why!” he snarls, getting in my face. “Because I will not have someone else taking what’s rightfully mine.”

  He addresses the priest without looking at him.

  “Continue,” Sven says.

  “Princess Katarina, please repeat after me,” the priest intones. “I, Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess of Tomassia...”

  “I’m not saying it,” I tell them.

  Sven nods at a guard, who comes over, stands behind me, and jerks on the bonds on my hands. My shoulders scream in pain, and my vision swims as he pulls me backward, off-balance, his arm the only thing keeping me up.

  “Now,” Sven goes on.

  “No,” I say, my teeth clenched, my eyes tearing up.

  “Katarina,” Sven says, getting in my face, his breath terrible. “If you don’t say this—”

  Behind us, two loud thunks break the silence of the chapel, followed by a grunt. Sven whirls around, and I crane my head around, ignoring the pain, trying to see what’s behind me.

  It’s Dom and Bruno, holding a shovel and a rake, just inside the door to the chapel, two unconscious guards in front of them.

  My heart leaps, but right away the other guard, who was lurking in the shadows, attacks Bruno. He’s got a stun gun or something, a device that sparks dangerously, and Bruno backs away a bit, swinging the rake.

  I make a desperate grab at the guy holding me as he turns toward them. All I can grab with my arms tied like this is his thumb, but I grit my teeth together and squeeze that one digit as hard as I can, thinking that maybe I can dislocate it or bruise it or something.

  He just grunts, pulls it, then jerks it out of my grip, yanking me off-balance, and I stumble and fall to my side, hitting the stone floor hard and flopping like a fish.

  “Watch out!” I shout, like they don’t know.

  The guy who was holding me roars, and I see him raise his arm, swinging something at Dom and Bruno, and I can’t see them at all.

  I curl into a ball, my hands still behind my back. It’s about the only thing I can do right now, and the sounds of chaos and fighting fill the small, echoing room.

  I can’t see well enough to follow what’s going on, but the guy with the stun gun is going after Bruno, who’s fending him off with the rake, and Dom is swinging the shovel at the enormous guy who was holding me a moment ago. They’re getting backed into a corner, step by step, as the trained professionals advance.

  Then Sven grabs me by the hands. He pulls me up, excruciating pain whipping through me. It hurts so bad I scream and fall back to my knees, but his face is an unchanging, contorted mask of rage.

  “You will marry me or you won’t marry anyone!” he shouts.

  Then he closes a hand around my throat and lifts. I have no choice but to stand, unsteadily, my vision going gray at the edges, my throat constricting. I can’t even beg him not to, only try to keep breathing, try to keep my heart beating.

  Don’t let me die like this, I think. Please no. Please no.

  There’s another, louder, fleshy thunk right in front of me, and my eyes fly open, heart hammering so fast I’m afraid it’ll just give up.

  Then Sven’s eyes roll back, the whites showing. His hand relaxes on my neck, and he lurches forward onto me. I scream again, and something behind him clatters to the ground as I stumble into the pews, falling backward onto one as Sven topples over.

  At the last second, he stops, hangs in the air for a moment, and then sort of rolls off to the side, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

  The priest is behind him, gasping for breath, a heavy candelabra on the floor next to him.

  “Princess,” he manages to wheeze.

  But before he can say anything else there’s a loud, snapping, crackling sound to one side. I nearly fall off the pew with surprise, but the huge guard’s body jerks a few times, then goes limp, and he falls to the floor as well, revealing Bruno, stun gun out.

  The other guard’s unconscious at Dom’s feet.

  Everything is totally still for a moment, and we all look around, like there’s more coming, but nothing happens. No one else comes.

  I’m still bound hand and foot, and I’m in a dungeon, but I think it’s over.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dominic

  I throw my shovel to the ground, jump over the unconscious guard, and lunge for Katarina. Bruno’s hot on my heels, vaulting over a row of pews.

  “I’m okay,” she gasps, struggling to sit up.

  I help her, as gently as I can. She winces when I touch her arms, and I feel awful, worse than awful.

  “Really,” she says.

  Bruno pulls out a pocket knife and undoes the plastic pull-tie bonds that are holding her wrists together, and she moves her arms in front of herself, leaning back in the pew and shaking them out. I take one hand and massage it, gently, trying to restore the blood flow into it, and on the other side, Bruno does the same.

  “Thanks,” Katarina whispers.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry, princess, I should have been there to protect you, I shouldn’t have let Sven—”

  “Dom, it’s not your fault,” she says, her voice still shaking. “Stop it.”

  “It was him who saw us, wasn’t it?” Bruno says, his voice low. “Or one of his retinue. That’s what he meant by if I can’t have you no one can.”

  Katarina sighs. She’s starting to tremble, her core shaking, and I wrap my arms around her, kiss her on the temple.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re okay. You’ll always be okay.”

  Behind me, the priest clears his throat, and we all turn to look at him.

  “Could I borrow the stun gun for a moment?” he asks, very politely.

  “Why?” Bruno says, suspicious.

  The priest nods to one of the guards on the floor.

  “I believe he’s waking up,” he says.

  Bruno shrugs and hands the device over, and the priest gives the man a quick zap, then hands it back.

  “Nice shot with the candle-holder, by the way,” Bruno says.

  The priest inclines his head slightly.

  “I was an army chaplain for a quite a while,” he says. “I learned a few things. I doubt they realized that when they forced me to come along.”

  “Are there more guards?” I ask.

  “I’m not
sure,” he says. “But I know there are at least three at Saint Christopher’s Orphanage.”

  His mouth forms a thin line, and right away, I understand how they convinced him to come here, and nod.

  Out in the halls of the dungeon, I can hear shouting and footsteps, the clattering of weaponry. The priest folds his hands, and I hold Katarina tighter, because now she’s trembling so hard her teeth are chattering.

  The door bursts open. The priest raises his hands, and men stream into the chapel.

  “Tomassian Royal Guard! Get AWAY from the Princess!” A man holding a huge gun commands.

  Bruno and I stand, hands in the air, facing a forest of automatic weaponry.

  “It wasn’t them!” Katarina shouts, even her voice shaking. “It wasn’t them, they saved me.”

  They clap us in handcuffs anyway, even the priest, and haul us off, ignoring the Princess’s shouts that it wasn’t us. At least they tie up Sven and his goons as well, letting them wake up bound on the floor.

  The Princess herself they whisk away almost instantly. I ask where they’re taking her but I’m met with angry, stony silence, and I don’t press the issue. I’m more than certain that she’s being cared for and is in good hands, and right now, that’s all I care about.

  We’re marched upstairs, to a wing of the palace I’ve never been to. It’s a series of small, windowless rooms with a single table and two chairs in each. Bruno and I are separated and shoved into different chambers.

  I guess this is the modern dungeon, technically not as barbaric as the underground one, but I sit there for hours, not sure what time of day or night it is, but I don’t care.

  The only thing I can think about is Sven’s hand on Katarina’s throat, her face as she struggled for breath. The sickening, gut-churning feeling as the guard blocked my way with his fist, keeping me from getting to her.

  She’s okay, I tell myself. She’s okay and that’s what matters.

  But I can never let that happen again. I think I’d rather die.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bruno

  Two men come into the room, both wearing suits and business-like expressions. One sits opposite me and one stands. I don’t say anything, and they both look at me hard for a long moment.

  Then the man sitting down leans forward.

  “All right, Prince Bruno,” he says. “Let’s hear what happened.”

  I tell them, as simply as I can: the princess being absent, looking for her, following the noises in the dungeon, grabbing the unused garden equipment from where it was stored in a cell, fighting Sven’s men. I’m fully aware that, somewhere close by, Dom’s telling the exact same story.

  I can’t tell if they believe me.

  They ask minute, detailed questions about every aspect of it. I describe the same thirty-second period over and over until I feel like I might be making it up, and yet, they don’t stop.

  And then, at last, both men flip through their notes. They’ve both removed their suit jackets and are pacing around the small room, looking like they want a cigarette.

  “The only thing I don’t understand,” one says. “Is why all this happened. Wasn’t Sven going to marry the Princess anyway?”

  I stay silent, staring at the wall.

  “Why would he feel the need to do it now, by force?” he goes on. “And why were the two of you the ones to rescue her?”

  I keep staring.

  “You know what I think,” the other man says. “I think maybe they put Sven up to it so they could be heroes, and things got a little out of control.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I finally say, looking at them.

  “You sure?” the first man asks.

  I clench my teeth together. I take a deep breath. I look from one man to the other.

  Between Dom and I, I’ve always been the guy who does stuff. Who takes action. He’s the guy who knows what to say.

  “Because it sure seems like that’s what happened,” the second man says.

  I clear my throat.

  “Prince Dominic, Princess Katarina and I have a somewhat unusual relationship,” I start.

  It’s almost sunup when they let us go to our chambers again, but they let us go, so I don’t care what time it is. I’m under heavy guard, and they station several men outside my door, but I hardly notice.

  All they’ll tell me about the Princess is that she’s fine, so that has to be good enough for me.

  I’m on house arrest for the next two days. I’m brought my meals in my chambers — which are a small suite of rooms — so I don’t get to leave. I can’t even communicate with Dom, even though I ask the guards again and again to let me speak with him.

  I can only assume he’s also under house arrest.

  The third day, I’m lying on a couch, staring at Tomassian television without watching it, when there’s a knock on the door, and I nearly throw the remote across the room answering it.

  Katarina’s standing there, four armed guards behind her.

  “Princess,” I say, relief finally flooding through my body that she’s here, she’s okay, she’s definitely okay.

  She turns to the guards behind her, thanks them, then steps inside my chambers. I shut the door behind her, and then we’re alone.

  “Bru—”

  I just wrap her in my arms, holding her as close as I can, practically crushing her against me. She holds me tight too, and we just stand that way for a long time, until I finally let go.

  I kiss her, gently and sweetly and tenderly, all the ways she should be kissed, and then pull away, staring into her eyes.

  “I love you,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry about all this, but I love you.”

  She puts one hand over mine, lacing our fingers together, and smiles.

  “I love you too,” she says. “And you won’t be under house arrest for too much longer. I’ve been talking to my father, and I think he’s coming around.”

  I raise both my eyebrows in surprise.

  “Coming around to letting us marry you?”

  Katarina just laughs, the sound so bright and happy that I smile, too.

  “Right,” she says. “I think me nearly being kidnapped might have softened him up a little.”

  I kiss her again, anticipation pounding through my veins. Our princess married to us — both of us. It’ll be a little weird. It’ll get some taking used to, but I think we can make it work.

  I want it to work.

  “I can’t stay,” Katarina says, pushing my hand out from under her skirt. “I’m sorry. They’re coming in after five minutes, and the last time we got caught...”

  I sigh, leaning my forehead against hers.

  “I know,” I say. “I love you. I can’t wait.”

  “Me either,” she whispers, then kisses me and leaves.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Katarina

  I watch the hands on the clock, stomach in knots. I’m so anxious about this that I don’t know whether it should be taking a long time, not very long, somewhere in the middle, or what.

  It doesn’t take long to say no, I think. If he was going to say no they’d be back by now, right?

  I swallow again, fold my hands in my lap, and look out the window.

  I think my father is willing to do this for me. Nearly being kidnapped by the man he wanted me to marry has done kind of a number on him, and right now, I think he’s pretty willing to give me anything I ask for. Even though he knows it’s not his fault — no one knew Sven was a psychopath — I know he still feels bad.

  But bad enough to let me marry two men?

  Well, he did agree to hear them out.

  I shift in my seat and sigh. I also haven’t gotten to have either of them in nearly a week, and it’s driving me absolutely insane. Between their house arrest and needing to be on good behavior for once, I haven’t even gotten felt up in days, and it means that every time I so much as think their names, I’m soaking through my panties again.

  Like right now, thin
king about what we’re going to do when they come back, no matter what my father says. For days now I’ve been fantasizing nonstop about taking them both at once, one of them in my pussy and one in my ass, how fucking incredible it might feel.

  The near-constant ache only intensifies, and I ball my hands into fists.

  I will not get myself off yet again before they get back, I think.

  At last, the door to my chamber opens. I leap to my feet as Bruno steps through, wearing a three-piece suit, followed by Dom in the same. They’re both grinning, and despite myself, I giggle and clap my hands together.

  “Well?” I ask.

  They look at each other.

  “He said...” Bruno starts, and looks at Dom.

  “...Yes,” Dom finishes.

  Bruno’s closer, so I jump up and wrap my legs around him, and in one smooth motion he reaches up my skirt and grabs my ass. I’m not wearing panties, obviously, and moments later Dom is behind me, unzipping my dress, unhooking my bra, then reaching underneath and massaging my breasts, tweaking my nipples.

  I moan. Loud. I don’t care. My dress flies off over my head, followed by my bra, and I’m already naked, between these two clothed men.

  They kiss me, one at a time, their hands all over my body as I’m sandwiched between them. I practically tear Bruno’s clothes off, running my hands over his sculpted, perfect chest, tightening my legs around his hips and rubbing myself along the huge bulge of his cock.

  I moan every time he rubs against my clit, and I swear, with every moan he gets harder.

  Bruno carries me to the bed and puts me down, then pushes me until my head is just hanging off the edge. He bites one nipple, running his tongue over it, and Dom comes over, caressing the other and kissing me deeply on the mouth.

  “Take your clothes off,” I whisper when he pulls away.