“There must be another way. It’s unseemly. Uncouth.”
“It is. And you’ll do it because it is what we must do before we can leave. Else you risk all our lives. All. Tonight you do as I say because I’m right.”
“You…” Her throat moved, and she stared, one eye half-hidden behind the sway of her red tresses. “Want me.”
“This is also true.” And so he kissed her one more time, hard, to hammer home his power over her.
Then he released her, took a step away, and let her rearrange her clothes. Her breathing took a long time to settle into anything approaching normal.
“I will not forget this, John. How you treat me tonight. Take care.”
“Noted, princess.” He let his smile freeze into a rigid line. “In advance, let me add that I will not be treating you in any way except as a man would his slave.”
“Oh.” She swayed, looking into his eyes, searching, as if that had been shocking news.
His chest hurt. “I won’t be letting them harm you.”
With her wrist in hand, he led her back inside, directed her to stand on the table, and folded his arms. Once she was standing up there, he said, “Strip for the prince.”
And then… then his doubts came crowding back in.
Being the bad man wasn’t simple. She’d been trembling when he released her hand.
The gathered men looked nowhere except to her with their greedy eyes, sucking her in, this voluptuous siren with the innocence of her soul seemingly written in the whiteness of her garment. She faced the head of the table where the prince sat, elbow on knee, leaning forward. The exposure of her pert, perfectly rounded rear was for him only, thus far.
The hem of the dress tapered into a frivolous translucency, and the laces winding down her back reminded him of his favorite activity—tying her up in rope.
Her feet were bare and so small and pretty.
He was inclined to jam his hand into his mouth and bite. Wanting her and wanting to expose her to these perverts should be exclusive of each other.
He wanted both.
“Strip,” he reminded her. “Now.”
CHAPTER TEN
last words: “Strip. Now.” They did not help calm Po.
Being a princess was not easy, but she’d forgotten all the lessons, all the reasons and the logic. Too many men were staring at her and expecting to see her naked, soon.
She curled her hands into fists, then loosened them, brought them higher to clasp between her breasts. They’d see the bites John had left on her, and everything else. Did it matter? As he had said, this would be fleeting, gone in a few days then a distant memory.
She held those words to her, using them to ground her, as a means to be levelheaded.
The prince was somehow both frowning and smiling at once. He does not know who I am, she reminded herself.
Pretend this is me undressing before the mirror. She knew in an instant that would not help. There was one other choice, since the prince revolted her, for he was a man of worse morals than any she had met, judging from the way he treated the slaves.
She was only a pretend slave, and the one man who knew it was beside her.
He had seen her naked before.
She turned until she faced him, feet knocking over one of the phallic saltshakers left on the table, feeling crumbs under her toes, her teeth automatically gripping her bottom lip.
Unsmiling, and his arms were folded, but she could tell he was pleased she had turned to him. Not that she wished to please Xander’s infuriating brother.
Her fingers were shaking, and she cursed them for betraying her nervousness. She reached up and slipped one shoulder of the dress down her arm, then did the same for the other side. The delicate fabric slid until caught by the curve of her breasts and the little white bra. Eyes closing, she tugged the dress to her waist, where it rolled and slid, gaining speed as it slipped over her thighs. She felt it pool on her feet and looked down.
It would gather stains from the spilled food.
Of all the things to worry over.
“Go on,” John said quietly. “You are almost done. They must see all of you.”
The men were getting more boisterous and a few shouted words she tried not to decipher. Po slipped the bra straps down her arms then reached around to undo the clip at the back.
The lacy undergarment fell from her fingers.
John snatched it from mid-air, leaving the bra swinging in his hand, but he did not remove his gaze from her. The man was fascinated and that, she realized belatedly… that pleased her.
Her nipples were stark with their pink against her skin, and they scrunched tighter into wrinkled circles while she looked. The bite marks were almost invisible, though she would have bruises.
That man… and she remembered the sensual pull of his teeth, and his lips and tongue on her there.
Get this done.
She inhaled, set her hands to either side of the panties, and wriggled them down, exposing herself, the slim triangle of hair, and likely a hint of her sex, in a way no princess should ever, ever do. John was right, though, and she knew it. This and worse could still be ordered of her, forced of her, if the prince were certain of her identity.
She must pretend for this night. She must be true to being a slave, no matter how it appalled and humiliated her.
“Oh, what
