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A door behind us clicks open.
Winnie begins to bark, and Cam walks quickly, stiffly, toward the commotion. I see a man in a black suit, bald head poking in, waving Cam to follow him.
“I thought we were alone!” I cry out, but Cam ignores me, leaving the room, the door snapping shut like a tomb.
Shock covers my skin like a blanket of movement, sands pushed by wind, oceans pulled by tides. Kissing him like that, grinding up against him was not borne of thought, but impulse, the need to do something, touch something, claim something so I could rid myself of the horror of these new truths so powerful I could not stop myself.
Asking him to fuck me.
I cannot believe I said that.
Didthat.
Begged him to defile me.
And when I asked for it, it felt so good. So right. So wrong.
So delicious.
Yet he rejected me. Why? I’m so confused. So ashamed. So hurt. Am I not good enough? Have I become impure by transgressing? Perhaps that is the real reason why Cam won’t sleep with me.
I am no longer worthy of him.
I really am depraved. The Mother said that there was always a tale in the mythology of a princess who turned bad. A woman who was a false princess, like an antichrist. She sinned without conscience, luring good men to turn bad.
A chord of fear turns my spine into a stake I wish to drive straight through my heart.
What if I am not a princess, as Cam says.
Or, instead, what if I am thefalseprincess?
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Cam
“Don’t you dare fuck her,” Paul grunts into the phone as this piece of concrete pretending to be a bodyguard stares me down like he can’t wait to shove a firecracker up my ass and toss me down the elevator shaft.
“I’m not. Swear.”
“If you do, you’re both dead.”
Paul is the reason we’re here. It’s his place, and I have to do whatever he wants.
“I don’t plan to sleep with her.”
His snort begs to differ.
“I mean it, Paul. But she’s asking me. Not the other way around.”
“Because she wants to lose her cherry. That can’t happen.”
“It’s not like we’re bringing her to auction.”
“About that. Change of plans. Helicopter’s on the way. She turns twenty-five, and there’s no changing fate.”
My head starts ringing. That firecracker’s looking good suddenly.
“WHAT?”
