The Piss in the Boots
CINDER
Iwait until I hear Prince Charming’s footsteps fade away, then I lunge for the door.
Well, duck fucks. He locked it.
Retreating back into the shadows of the room, I can’t help but mentally kick myself.
Great, Cinder, trapped in a room by the Most Eligible Prince of Midnight. Way to stay under the radar.
My limbs still feel like lead weights. The familiar dizziness washes over me forcing me to sit again. I grip the armrest to steady myself. Another day of battling this damn anemia. I don’t love the combined effects of a large pumpkin spice latte, not enough food, and a whooping emotional shock that just about laid me out on the ballroom floor.
And considering why the Prince bothered to whisk me away to the safety of this room, hurts my brain.
Or maybe it’s the bomb he dropped about my father being murdered.
The prince is crazy. My father died of a heart attack.
Something niggles at my gut like a worm feasting on a corpse, eating away at the part of me that’s never felt right about his sudden passing. I’ve tried to convince myself that death is always sudden, always too soon. Now that the prince has said something out loud I haven’t been able to even admit in my own mind, the chomping worm of doubt is joined by a hundred buddies that wriggle and bite away at the fragile peace I built in myself.
Nope. We aren’t going there, Cinder.So I move to the more immediate issue.
Is the playboy prince going to come back and feed on me? Not willing to share a live meal with anyone else?
No, you know that’s not it.
There were all kinds of cues, like the way he protectively put himself a little more in front of me when his father showed up. The way he didn’t treat me like dirt, even joking with me. He didn’t seem to want to hurt me.
It doesn’t make any sense. He has to want something from me. No one helps someone else without wanting something in return.
But I don’t know what he wants. The serious-faced boy I barely knew as a child grew up to be a bit of a partying ho-bag who shirks his responsibilities.
That may all be according to the gossip, but he openly admitted it to me just now. Plus there was that vampire girl who clearly had a tryst with him and her mom.
A shudder of disgust rolls through me again.
Yuck.I take a second to lean against the fancy couch, to get a grip on my spinning head. In the few interactions I’ve had with the prince, I felt like I was meeting different people each time.
There is the cock-sure pleasure seeker who can joke about his sexual activities, but then there are moments when hisexpression darkens and I think something is lurking underneath that veneer.
But mostly, I remember the Kaison Charming of when I was eight years old. It was still several years before my father died, and I was often pushed to socialize with other kids in the castle while my father and the King met. Though hanging on the outskirts while the fairy children went about their lives was more accurate.
We’d all been shuffled outside. As the boys darted past me playing tag, their laughter ringing in my ears, the weight of my solitude pressed down on me like a leaden cloak. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that seeped into my bones. The scent of Midnight grass and moon flowers enveloped me, filling my nostrils with their heady perfume.
The bright full moon filled the sky and cast brilliant silvery light over everything, a muted sun that was always present, always hugging the horizon, making it seem more massive.
I was pretty good at silencing the pang of longing deep within my chest. A yearning for connection, for companionship, for some sense of belonging. But in that moment, surrounded by laughter, I was painfully aware of just how alone I truly was. For once, I couldn’t keep to myself any longer.
Knowing the girls wouldn’t let me hang out with them, I asked the boys if I could join.
A white kid with impossibly blond hair and silvery eyes shot me a cruel smile that reminded me of a snake. “What do you know, boys? The meat snack wants to play with us.”
A shorter, pudgy boy with dark hair flanked me on the other side. The press of sweaty odors from the musky boys closed in around me. I immediately regretted asking.
“If we catch you, do we get to feed from you?” the pudgy boy asked, his expression hungry and mouth wet. His pale cheeks were ruddy from running around.
My heart jumped up to lodge in my throat. I’d made a big, huge, massive mistake.
