Broken Princess: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Feline Royals Book 1)

by Alexa B. James

  Broken Princess

  Feline Royals Book One

  Alexa B. James

  Copyright © 2019 Alexa B. James

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, and events are entirely coincidental. Use of any copyrighted, trademarked, or brand names in this work of fiction does not imply endorsement of that brand.

  Published in the United States by Alexa B. James and Speak Now.

  This edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945780-63-9

  Contents

  Broken Princess

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Captive Princess (Excerpt)

  One

  One

  Trigger Warning:

  This is a work of fiction that contains elements that many find triggering. If you are a sensitive reader, I recommend that you return this book and do not read further. It has strong Dark Romance themes including violence and issues of consent that are purely fantasy. The authors of this work do not endorse or condone real life violence or anything short of full, informed consent.

  *

  Itzel

  Princess, Ocelot Nation

  From my position behind the dense shrubbery, I eased my head up just enough to take stock of the enemy. Ducking down quickly, I flattened my back against the prickly bushes and waited, blood thudding in my ears, the darkness ominously quiet around me. When no shots came, my eyes swept back and forth along the line of crouched warriors. “Ready?” I whispered, slotting the ammunition into my blowgun.

  My team followed suit. When all guns were loaded, I waved my arm to signal them to move out, and they scrambled from seated positions to crouched and ready for action.

  “Charge!” I screamed, leaping to my feet and clearing the shrubs in a single bound. Battle cries rose up around us as my team barreled onto the field, and the enemy scrambled to avoid being shot. I blew the dart from my gun, swerved to miss an opponent, and kept running. I had to find another hiding spot to reload, or I’d be vulnerable to attack.

  “Itzel, you devil,” Tadeu cried, leaping after me. His fingers snagged at the ends of my black hair, but I wrenched free, ignoring the sting in my scalp. I leapt over another hedge only to hear footsteps heavy in pursuit.

  Shit! I kept running, swerving down a narrow, shadowy lane. It lay abandoned to the night, like everywhere else in the kingdom. No one else dared break the king’s weeknight curfew. Only the faint glow of paint on the toes of my shoes provided illumination. I darted through the streets where I’d played as a child, my footsteps echoing behind me as I ran. Pausing at the end of an alley, I flattened my back against the wall, my heart pounding with exertion.

  I slid my feet from my shoes, meaning to pick them up and sneak on silently. But a pursuer’s footfalls alerted me he was near, so I abandoned my shoes and darted out into the empty street. I streaked across, digging into my pocket for the keys I’d nicked from my father’s chambers before heading out that afternoon. I doubted he’d missed them—or me—that day.

  Keeping my blowgun in one hand, I shoved the circular key into the indentation on the arena’s door. The door gave way with a groan, and I flinched at the sound. Without checking for a pursuer, I slipped into the inky blackness within. Feeling my way with my bare feet, I sidestepped along the wall until I found the tunnel that led onto the arena floor. I heard the door scrape behind me, followed by loud whispers.

  Shit. There were several of them.

  I darted forward, praying a janitor hadn’t left a bucket or other random item in the tunnel. Hard-packed dirt greeted my feet as I reached the main floor, and a grin spread across my face. The quiet patter of my footsteps on the ground echoed off the high ceilings, but I couldn’t afford to stop now. I ran at breakneck speed across the floor, counting on the echo to throw them off.

  I ran smack into a pile of hay. Bundles topples in front of me, and I went sprawling on top of them, rolling to the floor on the other side.

  Heart slamming, I scrambled around into a defensive position. Lying in wait, I raised my blowgun to my mouth and inserted a paint-dart. I was ready.

  A footstep sounded somewhere in the arena, the soft padding almost inaudible. I tensed, straining my eyes against the darkness, my ears against the silence ringing inside them. Not another sound.

  Where were they?

  Suddenly, the rustle of hay sounded just behind me. Before I could twist around, strong hands grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to the floor. I struggled, fighting to stay silent as he pressed my face into the straw.

  “Gotcha,” a rough voice murmured in my ear.

  “Tadeu,” I growled, bucking under him. “Took you long enough.”

  He crushed his body onto mine, pinning me with his weight. “Itzi,” he purred. “Game’s up, Princess.”

  “I thought you’d never catch me.”

  “But I did,” he said, his calloused fingers sliding under the edge of my shirt, skimming along the band of my shorts. “Are you my prize?”

  “You wish,” I said, my breath quickening as his hand slid under me, pressing against the front of my shorts. I could feel his hard length pressing against my ass as I struggled.

  “Why not?” he asked. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

  “We’re in an arena with at least one other player,” I said. “Not now.”

  “I’m starting to think you share your father’s opinion of me,” he growled, his fingers biting into my mound.

  “I don’t,” I shot back. I squirmed against his fingers, but they only worked my shorts further into me. “How could you think that?”

  “Maybe a stable hand isn’t worthy of Her Grace’s cherry,” he said, slipping a skillful finger under my shorts, tapping my clit through the layer of silk beneath.

  “Of course you are,” I said. “And don’t call me that.”

  “Why not? You are a princess, aren’t you?”

  I snorted. “Try telling my father that.”

  “I don’t have to,” he said. “He reminded me just the other day.”

  “What?” I asked, finally twisting my body free and rolling over to face him.

  “He’s noticed that we still spend time together,” Tadeu said bitterly. “He told me we should have outgrown these games, and I shouldn’t indulge you.” He slithered onto me, pressing a thigh between mine. “And that if I had too much time on my hands, he’d send me elsewhere, where someone could keep me better occupied.”

&n
bsp; “No,” I said, gripping the corded muscles of his arms. Tadeu was my childhood best friend, my first kiss, my first and only love. As soon as my sister took the throne, I was going to convince her to let us marry. Father had laughed at me when I’d asked, but I’d been only a child then. I hadn’t dared ask once I’d been of marriageable age. Father would never allow such a disparate match, even for a human daughter like me. My sister, however, could be persuaded.

  Tadeu slipped his fingers under the edge of my shorts again, this time beneath my damp panties. “What’s it going to be, Itzi? Are you going to give it up at last, or am I going to have to dream of your tight pussy while I fuck a stable maid against the barn wall again tonight?”

  “Poor tragic Tadeu,” I said. “At least you get fulfillment every night.”

  “I can fill you full every night,” he said, sliding his finger into me.

  I gasped and arched up, stifling a cry when I saw a paint splatter glowing like stars on another player. I bit down on my lip, holding in a moan of pleasure as Tadeu’s finger pumped into my wetness faster and faster. I squeezed my knees together, increasing the pressure on my clit. He pulsed his finger inside me, and a tiny whimper escaped my throat. Seconds later, a paint dart burst on my chest.

  With a cry, I released Tadeu’s hand. He chuckled and drew away, flicking on a flashlight. His accomplice, Josue, stood grinning a few paces back.

  “You cheater,” I cried, punching Tadeu furiously in one solid pectoral. “You just got me going so I wouldn’t run while your partner snuck up on me.”

  “I could have just held you down and called for him, but this was more fun.” He popped his finger in his mouth and sucked greedily. “Tastes like cherries.”

  “Stop calling it that, or I’ll give you a taste of my fist.”

  Josue was laughing his ass off. “Rejected again,” he hooted.

  Tadeu stood and offered me a hand, which I slapped away. “Have fun with your stable maid tonight. Too bad you can’t get anyone better.”

  “Says the woman who begged me to fuck her the day I first kissed her.”

  “You’re a vulgar, horrible man.”

  “The best kind to fuck.”

  “Then how come we haven’t?” I shot back. It wasn’t a fair question. I was the one who had stopped it every time. I wanted Tadeu, and I wanted him to be my first. I always had. But despite my wild upbringing, where I’d run free with the kitchen boys and stable hands, as dirty as a street urchin and as seldom watched over, some of the royal attitude must have worked its way into me when I wasn’t looking.

  The truth was, I wanted my father’s approval. I didn’t want to, but I did. I longed for him to one day tell me he was proud of me. To tell me I’d done something right. I knew I’d never be queen—only the first child of two shifters could rule, as only they had the ability to shift. I was a throwaway child, an extra, an ordinary human like Tadeu and the other commoners I’d grown up playing with. As a commoner, I was lucky to live in the palace at all.

  And yet, it wasn’t enough. Just once, I longed for Father to smile at me the way he did at Camila. I wanted him to tell me I’d chosen well. I wanted, one day, to elevate Tadeu’s status by marrying him. I didn’t want to be another girl he fucked in the hay loft. I wanted to be his proper wife.

  Proper wives did not get fucked on the arena floor where the king hired dancers and fighters and magicians to entertain him. Proper wives didn’t get fucked by stable hands. Even if they were ordinary humans, proper wives definitely didn’t get fucked as a distraction tactic during a game of paint-darts in the dark.

  “I’d better get home,” I said. “I need to return the keys before Father notices they’re gone.”

  “The princess needs her beauty sleep,” Josue said.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “You sleep in the palace, don’t you?” Tadeu asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder. I cuddled against his muscular chest, the frustration of my near-orgasm building inside me. If only Josue hadn’t interrupted us just then. He could have had the decency to wait until I’d come before he shot me. Of course, he probably hadn’t known exactly what was going on. Or hell, maybe he did. It wasn’t like Tadeu was some kind of gentleman who wouldn’t tell his friends how much the princess liked his fingerbanging.

  “Damn, my shoes are gone,” I said when we got to the alley.

  Josue cracked up again.

  “It’s not funny,” I said. “Someone stole my shoes.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t leave them in the street,” Tadeu said. “Besides, whoever took them probably needs them more than you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, laughing as I started back toward the palace on bare feet, along streets as familiar to me as my own bedroom. There were the stairs where I’d fallen and broken my first bone (age eight), the doorstep where I’d had my first kiss (age eleven), and the bakery where I’d been caught stealing pastries and told I was too old for such shenanigans (age fifteen)

  Who was I kidding? I was the worst princess ever. Father was never going to approve of me. I might as well get it over with and at least have some fun before I shriveled up and died of sexual frustration.

  I stopped at the gates and threw an arm around Tadeu’s neck. Standing on tiptoes, I gave him a thorough kiss. “I’ll give it up when you invite me over to your house and make me feel special.”

  He scoffed. “The princess wants to feel special.”

  “Every girl wants to feel special,” I said, pressing my breasts against his chest. “And I don’t mean special to the Ocelot Clan. I mean special to you.”

  “Oh,” he said, his hands falling on my hips and his eyebrows rising. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” I said, nipping at his chin.

  “Consider it done,” he said, his voice husky. “Tomorrow night.”

  “See you then, Cowboy,” I said, giving his ass a squeeze before releasing him. I watched him swagger off towards the servants’ quarters behind the stables. With a smile on my face, I turned and jogged up the steps and into the palace, hoping no one would notice my bare feet or paint-splattered shirt.

  I shouldn’t have bothered. No one gave me a second glance. I slipped by Gabor, the guard at the end of the hallway, and ran toward my room on tiptoes. By now, the guards were used to me running off at all hours and coming home in all conditions, but my heart still raced until I reached my door and could relax. It wasn’t until I slid through the door of my room that I realized my absence had been noticed.

  Two

  “Camila,” I said, closing the door behind me and hurrying to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  My sister looked up at me, her nose red, her face splotchy, her pale eyes watery. Unlike me, my sister had inherited our father’s pale complexion, straw-colored hair, and pale blue eyes. The resemblance, however, was purely physical. Father often said I was the one who had his temperament, though I was never sure if that was a compliment or a criticism.

  “Father’s angry at you,” Camila said, twisting a sodden handkerchief between her hands.

  “Shit,” I said. “Did he notice the keys were missing?”

  She sniffed. “What keys?”

  “Never mind,” I said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “What did I do this time?”

  “You missed the dinner,” she said, her tone accusing. “I needed you.”

  I strained my brain. I’d seen the king maybe once in the past week, and I seemed to recall something about the Jaguar Court…

  “Ohhh,” I said slowly. “Was it King Jaguar’s welcome dinner, by any chance?”

  “Yes,” Camila wailed. “He’s going to kill you.”

  I forced a small laugh. “Oh, come on. What’s the big deal? It’s not like you missed it.”

  A new bout of tears spilled down Camila’s pale face. “I wish I had.”

  “Cam,” I said, putting an arm around her. “I’m sure you did great.”

  “I didn’t,” she said, blowing her nose
loudly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll make sure to hang around here until they leave. What boring things did Father drum up to entertain them?”

  “The usual,” she said, her voice breaking. “Dinner, a ball, meetings with the council.”

  “You’ve been to a million of those,” I said. “You’re a pro.”

  “But… Father was so angry at me. He said I disgraced him.” She started blubbering all over again. A tiny part of me was tempted to tell her that was nothing, he’d been saying that to me since I was five years old. But Camila was anxious and sensitive, and since she’d probably never heard those words before in her life, they hit her harder.

  “I’m sure he was just upset about me being gone,” I said, though that was a straight-up lie. He probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone until Camila couldn’t hold a conversation on her own. Camila could make small-talk and the kind of conversation she rehearsed in her long warm baths, but if things went off topic or got heated, she melted like wax. Father needed me to prop her up, to be her crutch. Otherwise, he would never even tell people he had a second daughter.

  “He sent for you, and you weren’t there,” Camila said. “And then he sent out for that stable boy you like so much, and he wasn’t in, either.” She broke off, her words strangled by a sob. “You made him look bad in front of King Jaguar, and they’re the only Feline Nation willing to give us an audience.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, patting her back. But my mind was racing. I was going to be in trouble, and that was fine. I’d been in trouble plenty of times. I could handle Father’s wrath. But Tadeu…

  “This is my only chance,” Camila said thinly. “If we make a bad impression, they won’t come again. And none of the other clans will come at all. How am I going to survive as queen when no one will even hear me out?”

  “This is not your fault,” I said, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to sit up straight. “Father may have alienated the other cat clans, but you didn’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.