THEIR_VIRGIN_PRINCESS
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Authors: Shayla_Black_Lexi_Blake
THEIR VIRGIN PRINCESS
Masters of Ménage, Book 4
Shayla Black and Lexi
Blake
THEIR VIRGIN PRINCESS
Masters of Ménage, Book 4
Shayla Black and Lexi Blake
Published by Shayla Black and Lexi Blake
Copyright 2013 Black Oak Books LLC
Edited by Chloe Vale and Shayla Black
ePub ISBN: 978-1-939673-00-8
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THEIR VIRGIN PRINCESS Masters of Ménage, Book 4
Shayla Black and Lexi Blake
Copyright 2012 Black Oak Books, LLC
Bonus material and excerpts at the conclusion of this
book.
Excerpt from Shayla Black’s
Wicked All The Way – A Wicked Lovers Novella
Excerpt from Lexi Blake’s
A Dom Is Forever
Excerpt from Jayne Rylon’s
Pick Your Pleasure
Nothing could cut the heat of the jungle. The fan overhead
turned, but sweat still ran down her forehead. She would have wiped it away,
but the fuckers had tied her hands to the bedpost the night before. Poor little
kidnappers couldn’t handle one small escape attempt without getting pissy. Too
bad she’d only managed to cut one of them before they had captured her again.
Alea closed her eyes. Sunset had shadowed the little room
with increasing darkness. They would be back, and she wasn’t sure she could
handle another night of watching her abductors use the other women they had
caged with her.
They were all in school, the pigs had told her. They were
supposed to learn what a woman’s real place was.
Before she’d been taken and sent to this hell, she’d been a
graduate student at New York University, studying international politics. Now
she was majoring in misery, forced to watch her fellow abductees endure all
kinds of sexual deviancy from men who abused them.
From the room beside her, she could hear the high-pitched
whimper of a woman in pain and the staccato thud of a headboard hitting the
wall.
Alea shut her eyes, wishing she could close her ears to
block out the sound. When would this nightmare end? The days were bleeding
together. She was losing track of time—and her grip on the carefree woman she’d
once been.
When she’d first been abducted, she’d kept a careful count,
marking out each day in small scratches on the wall. They were still there, all
sixty-some odd lines—proof that she’d once hoped someone would find her. The
endless cycle of time and pain had marched on, and she’d stopped carving those
stupid lines. With no way to fight the drugs they fed her, time had become
meaningless. She merely alternated between being dazed and terrified. When she
was lucid, the world around her seemed foreign. Rapid-fire Spanish she couldn’t
quite wrap her brain around and unfamiliar men, not to mention a situation so
alien and horrific, she still struggled to comprehend. Coping was out of the
question. Did it matter if she was here a day or a lifetime? Hell was hell.
And she was quickly rotting in it.
Lately, her captors had taken to doping her up more. Some
days, Alea wasn’t sure what was real and what was a hallucination. The worst
part was being dependent on that needle. Even now she was sweating, her stomach
cramping, because she’d been too long without a fix, but there was no way they
would wean her off of it again after her last escape attempt.
Suddenly, the doorknob was turning. Alea frowned, bracing
herself. Perhaps this would be the end. Maybe this would be the moment they
bound and trussed her up, then shipped her off to some asshole who would rape
her and torture her for the rest of her short life. And it would be short,
because she had no intention of being some man’s plaything. She was Alea Binte
al Mussad, descendant of the royal family of Bezakistan. She was a princess.
She had pride. And she would go down fighting and try her damnedest to take as
many of these bastards with her as she could.
A single moment flashed across her mind. A sweet summer’s
day at the palace when she’d been a child turning her face up to the sun. The
inner garden had been her own private world. Her beloved cousins had been
older, but they’d still played hide and seek with her, calling for their little
“monkey,” a nickname she’d earned because she climbed the trees and made her
nannies insane with worry.
But they don’t know
you, little monkey,
Talib would say.
They
don’t know how strong you are. One small tree can’t take you down. Some days,
I’m not even certain a small army can.
The door opened with a small squeaking sound that signaled
her torture would now continue. There were no trees to climb in this place, no
armies to fight, only suffering.
She turned her gaze to see which pig had come to hurt her.
An unfamiliar man in all black slid inside the door with a gun wrapped around
his chest. He held it the way she’d seen military men grip their weapons, like
a mere extension of their arms.
Was this a new torturer? If so, then her end would likely be
very soon because this man was a killer.
“Alea?” The words were whispered, but came through loud and
clear as if the man who spoke them expected to be understood and obeyed.
No one had called her by her name in…forever. Here, she was
“girl” or “
puta
.” For the briefest
moment, she considered denying her name and perhaps avoiding her terrible fate,
but her name was all she had left. If she died, she would die as Alea.
“Yes.”
“I need you to stay as quiet as possible. My name is Cole
Lennox. Your cousin sent me.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Cole Lennox?
She’d never heard of the man before. Her cousin? Talib? Or Yasmin? Would Yas
even know how to hire a mercenary? It didn’t matter. Someone had come for her.
Or had her “keepers” found a new, fun way to torment her and extort money from
her royal relatives? Would this man get her hopes up, only to show her a new
terror?
Cole Lennox towered over her. “You’re going to fight me,
aren’t you? You think you don’t know me, but you do. I saw you once at the
palace right after I brought Tal back from his ordeal. You invited me into the
drawing room and offered me tea. I need you to understand that if I have to, I
will knock you out in order to save you.”
Tears welled, the first she’d felt in months, and she fought
them ferociously. Now that he was closer, she remembered. Lieutenant Lennox had
saved her cousin from radicals, and now it appeared he was going to save her.
“They don’t allow me clothes. I’m not wearing anything under
this sheet.” Shame crashed over her like a wave on the beach.
He shrugged out of the black shirt he wore, revealing a
T-shirt. He set the shirt aside and produced a knife. Her hands and feet were
free in seconds, and he was wrapping the shirt around her, carefully avoiding
looking for more than a cursory glance below her neck.
Alea stood, her hands shaking as Cole Lennox began to lead
her out, step by creeping step. In the distance, she heard gunfire and
shouting.
“That’s baby brother doing his job.” He winked over his
shoulder at her. “Let’s get you home.”
She followed Cole out, but the girl he’d met all those years
ago was long gone. They could take her back to the palace, but a part of her
would always be trapped here, forever tainted.
Bezakistan – Two
years later
Alea escaped from the glittering lights and laughter of the
ballroom. Everything about the evening was lovely and elegant, and she couldn’t
breathe. It wasn’t her dress or the amount of food she’d consumed, but the
press of bodies, the expectation, the terror she could never quite shake…
The warm night air caressed her skin as she closed the
balcony doors behind her. The terrace overlooked the garden at the center of
the palace. Normally, the doors would be open and a bar would have been placed
out here, but Dane Mitchell, one of Tal’s bodyguards, had decreed it unsafe for
the time being. After an episode that had nearly ended in the murder of her
cousins’ wife a few months ago, Dane had been on a security tear. Everyone had
tried to explain to him that the perpetrator, Khalil, was dead and wasn’t
likely to rise as a zombie to eat Piper’s brains. Alea felt a smile cross her
face. She’d been the one to use that argument. But Talib, Rafiq, and Kadir,
ever vigilant, had signed on to the new “keep the women safe” plan.
To Alea, it felt more like the “never let the women have any
fun” plan. Or a minute alone.
“Hello, Landon.” She didn’t have to turn around to know he
stood there, strong and stalwart. She’d heard the briefest squeak of the door
opening…then nothing. Landon Nix never made a sound, but sometimes little
things like squeaky hinges defeated his silent grace.
“You don’t have to talk. I just can’t leave you alone.
Pretend I’m not here.”
Impossible
. She
turned and stared at the quietest of her three watchmen, all of whom had been
hired months after her rescue. By then, she’d recovered, and Alea was beyond
glad they had never seen her so weak. They had been apprised of her abduction
and given sketchy details, but by the time Tal had hired them, thanks to Cole
Lennox’s advice, at least her body had recovered. The three guards kept her
safe day and night. And had quickly become the bane of her existence.
As well as the center of her every fantasy.
Landon hovered in the corner, shadows clinging to him,
making him look even more dangerous than normal. He was six foot three and
leaner than the two Mack Trucks he called friends, but there was no way he was
any less lethal. Her brain told her that, but something about him put her at
ease in a way she wasn’t with the other two. Dane was so dark and dominant.
Coop was a relentless flirt—both things that scared the crap out of her. But
Landon, with his golden hair and face, with his expression so often as placid
as an untouched lake, was a calming presence. He never pushed her too hard to
talk or demanded her smiles. When he guarded her, he simply followed and made
sure she got where she needed to go. Coop and Dane either pretended to flirt
with her or downright insisted that she follow their direction, but Landon just
quietly did his job.
He was a little like the large, gorgeous Labrador retriever
she’d had as a child. Except she had never dreamed about sharing Duke’s wet
kisses, much less taking on his friends.
She had to stop thinking that way, but Landon made that difficult
when he stood so near and the night fell softly all around her. She’d snuck
away to escape the crowd, but she was surprised at just how much she liked
being out here alone with Lan. “Did Tal make you wear that tux?”
Even in the deep gloom, she saw his telling flush. Maybe
Lan’s down-to-earth nature was what made her feel so comfortable. He was
obviously uneasy with the wealth around him. Ever since she’d returned to
Bezakistan and the palace, she had felt the same way. She’d seen real suffering
in the real world, and sometimes this opulence chafed.