“Your Grace,” Gabor said, reaching out as if to stop me when I barreled up to the door of the King’s private meeting chamber. Ignoring him, I burst through the door. Father was seated at the conference table with his back to me, a diplomat across the table from him. Father’s head twisted sharply around when the door opened. “I said no inter—”
He broke off when he saw me, his head rocking back like he’d been slapped. He pushed his chair back, wrestling a blonde head out of his lap. The girl’s mouth popped off his dick with an audible pop, and I was glad I didn’t have to witness that scene from the front. Father shoved himself back in his pants and hastily tucked his shirt as he rose from his chair and turned to face me. His fair skin was blotchy with anger, his pale eyes darkening.
“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Gabor stuttered behind me.
“Get out,” Father said to him, as if he were chasing away a stray dog instead of his most loyal guard. When the door closed, Father’s eyes fixed on me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “I’m in a meeting, Itzel. Whatever you have to say for yourself, it can wait.”
“What I have to say for myself?” I asked incredulously, sparing only a glance at the tattooed man who still sat across the table. He wore a jaguar skin draped over his shoulders, marking him as a member of the Jaguar Court or nobility, I didn’t know which. He wasn’t old enough to be the king, but even if he had been, Tadeu was just as important to me.
“What did you do with him?” I demanded.
“You’re too old to conduct yourself in this manner,” Father said. “It’s time for you to focus on the world around you, not these silly childhood fancies.”
My hands balled into fists, and I could feel my own face reddening as I ground out the words. “Where…is…Tadeu?”
“Now is not the time to discuss the placement of a servant,” Father said, seeming to collect himself as I fell apart. He gestured at his guest, who had scooted back from the table enough for me to see another blonde head bobbing in his lap.
“Don’t mind me,” the man said in a deep, accented voice that was tinged with humor. Every inch of exposed skin was covered with swirling black tattoos, even his face. Everything about him was thick and rich, from his voice to his wide, strong jaw and high cheekbones, his rich brown skin and head of thick black curls. He didn’t look particularly tall, but his shoulders were broad beneath the jaguar cloak, and his arms thickly muscled as he stroked the head of the girl sucking his cock. His eyes lingered on my face, crinkles at the corners belying his amusement at my reaction when the girl started slurping loudly.
I tore my gaze from his, trying not to let them see how flustered I was.
“I know you had him seized by guards,” I said to Father. “You can’t hide him from me. He’s my friend.” To my horror, I felt a prickle behind my eyes. Of course, Father knew we were friends. That was exactly why he’d taken Tadeu. Hell, knowing the way the servants talked, he might even know what I’d been planning tonight.
“All I asked was that you focus on our guests while they’re here,” Father said. “It’s not too much to ask.”
“Like she’s focusing on him?” I snapped, gesturing to the girl moaning around the jaguar’s dick. That had to be fake. She couldn’t be enjoying it that much.
Father’s temple throbbed with rage, but the jaguar simply fixed me with an indulgent smile and crossed his hands behind his head.
“You will attend the dinner,” Father said, his voice low and icy with suppressed fury. “You will behave yourself and entertain the guests in the manner befitting a princess.”
I glared back at him, refusing to back down. I had to force myself to hold his gaze when I flashed back to his state when I entered. I knew Father often had girls service him and his guests, but I’d never had the balls to crash one of his diplomatic sessions. I hadn’t known they did it so…callously. Papers were spread across the table, and the girl stood by, as if waiting to resume her blow job.
“I will do that,” I said to Father. “In the manner befitting a princess.”
“I’m glad we’re clear.”
“If you tell me where he is,” I said. “And if you promise not to send him away.”
Father’s eyes narrowed, this time calculating. Probably weighing how much he could get for one princess’s cherry, if the princess in question was a mere human with a shaky reputation.
“Very well,” he said. “You’ll do as I ask, and you’ll find out where your stable hand is.”
I studied him, trying to decipher whether he was lying. From the corner of my eye, I could still see the girl bopping up and down, sucking furiously at the jaguar’s cock.
“Fine,” I said, annoyed by the distraction.
“Now go, so I can resume my session with the jaguar.”
And your whore.
“Sorry we weren’t properly introduced,” the jaguar said with a lazy smile. “I’m Lord Balam.” He gripped the blonde’s hair and pulled her away, holding her off to one side while he stood and thrust out his other hand to me. I swallowed, gaping at the huge, dark cock pointing straight up at me, ribbed with veins and slick with saliva. A droplet of white cum slid over the head and began to trickle down his thick shaft.
Father grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, marching me to the door. “This is why you’re not allowed into my chambers during important meetings,” he growled, shaking me. “Now go check on your sister and get dressed for dinner.”
I didn’t resist as he pushed me out and closed the door behind me. My limbs felt heavy, my mind numb with shock, revulsion, and arousal all mixed together. Avoiding Gabor’s eyes, I hurried down the corridor until I was out of their line of sight before breaking into a run.
Six
“Your Grace,” said my maidservant, annoyance evident in her voice. She was an old widow who had taken the job a few years before and doggedly stuck it out when others had quit. They didn’t like the responsibility of looking after a girl who snuck out at night when they should have been watching her.
I was still fuming from my encounter with Father, but I stood and let her bind me into my dress, tightening the ribbons up the back until I could hardly breathe. Having a small waist made your ass and tits look bigger, which was obviously an asset when you were unattached royalty.
“Have you heard anything about Tadeu?” I asked.
The maidservant shook her head, her lips tight as she yanked the silk ribbons tighter and began to tie them. “No.”
I sighed. The palace servants sometimes didn’t hear gossip about the outdoor servants for days. She wouldn’t know anything the girls in his room hadn’t. She probably only knew him by name because I talked about him.
When the correct parts of my body were sufficiently pinched and boosted, concealed and revealed, my maidservant led me into the hall and trailed me to Camila’s room. I gave the required knock for someone of a lower station, a custom as ridiculous as our dresses, which looked like we were playing dress-up for a costume play. Which, I supposed, we were.
Camila’s maidservant opened the door and stepped aside to let Camila shine. If my silk ballgown was ridiculous, Camila looked like she was standing in a cream puff made of satin with velvet trim. Mine was a pale blue with shades of lavender to complement her royal purple. I was always an accessory to her, and although it was the position I had worked to my advantage, at times like this, the obviousness of it irked me. When Mom had been alive, she hadn’t made me feel like an accessory. I’d been a whole person then, important in my own right.
But there was no use dwelling on that.
I started to turn, but Camila grabbed my arm. Her cold fingers dug into my muscle, her eyes darting back and forth as she licked her lips. “What if I can’t do it?” she hissed.
“You can,” I said firmly. I pulled her toward me, meaning to hug her, but she shrank back.
“My dress is too big,” she said, her eyes begging my forgiveness.
“Right, of c
ourse,” I said. “Silly me. Well, let’s go. You’ll do great, and I’ll be there every step of the way.”
“Promise?”
I squeezed her hand. “Promise.”
Camila turned away, took a deep breath, and floated down the hallway toward the formal dining hall. To look at her, you’d never know she was a quivering mess under the stiff spine, raised chin, and gravity-defying grace.
I, on the other hand, minced along like someone who really needed to pee, trying not to step on the hem on my asinine dress and trip myself. Father arrived a minute later, his confident stride and squared shoulders making him look like exactly what he was.
“King Ocelot, Your Majesty,” Camila said, giving a curtsy. I followed suit, dipping only a few inches. Father held out his arms for us to take. Camila slid her hand into his elbow with relief, but I had to grit my teeth and force myself to play the obedient daughter on the best of days, and today was not my best day.
His arm clamped down on my hand like iron, wrenching my fingers to his side. “It should be an honor to do your duty to the Ocelot Kingdom,” he gritted out.
Camila murmured her assent while I bit my tongue, refusing to let him nettle me. The Court Caller announced us, and we began our parade past the royals, nobles, and visiting Jaguar Court already seated. I kept my eyes straight ahead, refusing to deviate even a hair’s breadth from what I’d promised Father. I wasn’t going to let him squirm out of telling me where he’d sent Tadeu as he was apt to do if I so much as sighed with boredom.
I escorted Father like a docile little lamb to the slaughter, delivering him to the head of the table. I stepped past the back of his chair, keeping a serene smile on my lips even as I imagined how easy it would be to pick up a goblet and smash it over the back of his head. Camila was seated on Father’s right, and I slid past her chair and into my seat, relieved to be off my prim heels and out of danger of tripping on my dress. The hard part was over.
No sooner had the thought entered my mind then I met the eyes of the man across the table. Fuck. The man who had so brazenly flashed his cock at me now sat across from me, a polite smile on his lips even as his eyes danced with merriment at the look that must have crossed my face. Paint had been carefully applied along the intricate designs of his tattoos, no doubt symbols that represented his clan. The jaguar skin still hung over his shoulders, though the rest of his court was attired in the same overly formal fashion we were.
I began to arrange my silverware, trying to control my hammering heart. This man had a strange effect on me, and not only because he was overwhelmingly handsome with his square jaw and full, wide lips.
Don’t forget his obscenely virile cock…
I forced the thought away and relaxed my shoulders. Just because I’d never had a cock inside me didn’t mean I’d never seen one. Hell, I’d been looking at Tadeu’s cock since we were children playing doctor in the hayloft. They were no big deal. But it was different to see a familiar, much-desired cock than to see a stranger’s staring up at me, leaking cum at the sight of me.
Camila’s hand appeared under my nose, her fingers curling around mine and squeezing hard. I released my fork and tried to focus. My sister needed me to be sharp, not flustered by this disarming stranger. I’d already missed a question.
“Nice of you to join us,” Lord Balam said to me with a quirk of one eyebrow.
I smiled sweetly. “I’ve been here all along. My ears are adequate to convey your small talk. But if you require a visually attentive audience all night, I’ll do my best to accommodate you.”
“I wouldn’t mind the eyes of such a beautiful lady on me.” He added, as if it were an afterthought, “All night.”
“She’s more than a lady,” Camila said. “She’s a princess.”
“But you are Princess Ocelot.”
“Yes.”
Lord Balam studied me with keen interest while I put on an air of practiced boredom. “I’m afraid we weren’t properly introduced earlier,” he said.
Because your cock was in my face, I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled. “Itzel,” I said, although of course he knew my name. I might be human, but I was still the daughter of the king. Everyone knew the royal families. “And you are? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten already. With your entire court here, there are so many new faces.”
“I’m the curandero,” he said. “Lord Balam. Or simply Balam, Your Grace.”
Fuck. Of course he was the shaman. That’s why he was wearing the ceremonial robe, or whatever the skin meant to his people, and the face paint. This was the guy who had the fucking amulet.
A tiny tremor went through my thighs at the thought of him possessing the secret to jaguar mating rituals. This was the man my sister was supposed to seduce to get the amulet? I almost snorted wine out my nose in horror at the thought of that thick, veined cock ripping open my delicate sister.
Hell to the no. We would just have to find another way to get it.
Camila had stilled, but she must have been having similar thoughts, because her face had gone the color of paste. She was already quaking at the thought of seducing him, and she hadn’t even seen his cock yet.
“Right, right,” I said with dismissive gesture. “We met in Father’s private chambers.”
“Yes,” he said. “It was quite a pleasure. One I’m sure I’ll remember for years to come.”
“Will you?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “I found it rather ordinary. Frankly, I’m surprised you remember it at all.”
This guy didn’t have to know he’d gotten under my skin. For all he knew, I routinely walked in on diplomats getting blowjobs, and those diplomats always held their hired mistresses by the hair while reaching to shake my hand, leaving their bare, glistening cocks out while they did.
Lord Balam smirked like he was on to me. “Surely our meeting is memorable,” he said. “I would hope our you saw something pleasing to Your Grace.”
I shrugged and nudged my wine glass back into place. “I’m afraid I don’t remember. Was there something extraordinary about the moment?”
I fought back the urge to laugh at the flicker of irritation on his face. He was trying to flirt with me by talking in riddles that my sister couldn’t possibly understand. I almost admired the balls it took to fish for dick compliments in the middle of dinner with the king.
“Meeting the king’s daughter is indeed an extraordinary moment,” he said. “One I shall not soon forget.”
“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” I said. “I was rather distracted by a personal matter.”
A well-placed reminder that I had a lover should deter further attempts at flirting.
“Your Father mentioned his daughter was common,” Lord Balam said. “How did that happen? Adoption?”
“No,” I said, refusing to react further.
Common. The word had haunted me all my life, even before it could mean I was a vulgar woman. But it was true. In our clan, most families stopped after one child, preferring to flaunt their magical natures by only producing magical heirs. No shifter wanted an ungifted child to burden them when they went on hunts or attended fancy parties where only shifters were allowed.
That’s why I’d spent most of my childhood with the sons and daughters of servants, all of whom were humans born to human parents, children who didn’t judge me for my lack of magical abilities.
“My sister may be a commoner, but she is a formidable foe in any game of strategy,” Camila murmured.
“I believe it,” Balam answered, his eyes never leaving my face even as he spoke to Camila.
My mind immediately raced through our earlier encounter. Had Father revealed my questionable reputation after I left, trying to explain my outburst? Surely not. Father found my exploits shameful.
The servants, however, were not as discrete. They’d sell palace gossip for pennies, especially when the one buying looked like Lord Balam. Hell, he’d probably gotten the information for free, paying only with a smile and some flattery.
“K
ing Ocelot tells me you’re quite a pair,” Lord Balam said. “Do you plan to stay close to the throne when your sister accepts the crown?”
“A queen needs a trusted confidant for personal matters,” I said. “Who better to play the part than a true sister?”
He finally turned his gaze to my sister. “Sounds like you have a trusted advisor by default,” he said. “Maybe more families should take a page from your father’s playbook.”
“We’re close, it’s true,” Camila said.
She knew politics too well to admit this early who she would choose as her advisors. I already knew, of course. I knew it as surely as I knew that my life hadn’t been planned as part of Father’s strategy, though it had become that after our mother died. If he could do it over, I often thought Father would have chosen to have only one daughter. I was a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of his mistake. The other clans looked down on him for my very existence.
It could have been worse. He could have hidden me away, sent me off to live in some other estate like an illegitimate child. And though I knew it was not for sentimental reasons like he missed my mother, loved me, or wanted me to be happy, I was still glad he’d let me stay at court to watch over Camila. That was my job.
The dinner was served, and conversation moved more smoothly. A jaguar prince sat across from Camila, and though I was sure Father meant to introduce them as potential mates, it was obvious the prince would rather have mated with the shaman.
I studied him, nonetheless. I could schmooze with diplomats with my eyes closed, but this dinner held more weight. The jaguars were giving us a chance. They had to see some advantage to that—no royal did anything from the goodness of his heart. Father saw an opportunity to make peace with the Jaguar Nation, possibly form a marriage alliance. It was definitely advantageous for us. But what was in it for them?
Compared to the usual boring order to chat up some old windbag, this was a dream job. It mattered to me who my sister married, not only for political reasons but because she needed a husband who would treat her softness with the care it deserved and not exploit it. I wanted her to be happily married, not just advantageously.
Broken Princess: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Feline Royals Book 1) Page 4
