Captive Princess: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Feline Royals Book 2) Read online

  Any relationship after him would be much more complicated. Still, I clung to the simplicity of what I had with Balam even as I felt it changing every day. He meant more to me than I wanted him to. In the bathroom, I spun and pressed him against the door, wrapping my hand around his cock with no pretense. It swelled, hardening deliciously for my touch.

  “Damn, you are ready,” he said, burying a hand in my hair and pulling me close, rubbing his nose across mine and inhaling my scent. His other hand grabbed my ass, massaging my soft flesh as his cock throbbed into my palm.

  “Just be careful of my shoulder,” I gasped as he drew my head back, his full lips caressing my skin.

  “I will,” he growled, hitching my leg up. I wrapped it around him, rocking against him as my hungry mouth found his. I slid my tongue between his teeth, tasting his tongue as it plunged into my mouth, thrusting into me in a rhythm that made my thighs slick with anticipation. Gripping his massive girth, I squeezed his cock until he groaned into my mouth, thrusting his hips against mine.

  He undid the button of my jean shorts, forcing his hand down them until his fingers sank between my slick lips. I grabbed the waistband and shimmied out of them, dropping them around my feet. Balam grabbed me and hoisted me onto the edge of the sink, opening my knees and dipping two fingers into me, twisting them together and swirling them against my walls. Ripples of pleasure ran through me, and my juices dripped down his hand as he continued thrusting his fingers into me in rhythm with his tongue claiming mine.

  When he pulled away to dip his face to my neck, I gripped the edges of the sink, leaning back and spreading my thighs as wide as I could. Balam chuckled, drawing back and smearing his thumb through my folds, parting my pussy lips and pulling them so wide a twinge of pain tugged at my flesh.

  “God, your cunt is a masterpiece,” he said, circling my opening with his fingertip until I was panting for more. He wrapped a thick arm around my waist, lifted me, and slammed me down on his cock. I cried out in surprise as his entire massive length rocketed into me at once. He lifted me again, then slammed me down, stuffing me with so much of him that I cried out again, calling his name each time he buried his cock to the hilt in my tight flesh.

  I didn’t know if I was begging for more or begging for him to stop. All I knew was I was gasping his name, gasping for breath, gasping for relief. He pressed my back against the door, driving into me so powerfully that my back slammed the metal with each thrust. My pussy clenched around his rigid cock, aching from the roughness of his entry but slick with wanting more. Lord Balam growled, slamming harder into me. With a metallic screech, the lock gave, and the door flew open. We went with it, stumbling back against the door as it banged against the wall. Instead of stopping, Lord Balam gripped the top of the door while he continued driving into me over and over.

  After a second, my head cleared to what was happening and where we were. My sister, in ocelot form, lay sleeping across the shredded leather sectional that ran along one side of the plane. Shadow, in human form, sat in one of the seats facing the back of the plane, his cock rigid, his eyes drinking us in like an intoxicated man. When my eyes met his molten gaze over Balam’s shoulder, an inferno of heat erupted inside me. My core clenched, my walls clamping down on Lord Balam so hard he growled ferociously and drove into me so hard my feet left the ground.

  Crushing me to the door, his cock swelled as cum coursed through that bulging vein, spurting into me. He came with a guttural cry, grinding his pelvic bone against my clit. A chocked scream twisted in my throat, and pleasure whipped at me, gripping my body in a helpless spasm. My toes curled, and my nails cut into Lord Balam’s shoulders as I came. The orgasm rocked through me so hard I lost sight of Shadow behind a wall of black spots swimming over my vision.

  When my vision cleared, Shadow was standing right behind Balam.

  His green eyes tethered to mine, and he growled, “My turn.”

  Five

  Sir Kenosi

  Entrepreneur, Cheetah Nation

  I headed down the road through the cheetah village, tossing things from my bag to the kids running out to see me.

  “It’s Sir Kenosi,” they crowed happily to each other, running out to see me. Once, this had been the projects, but I’d spent a lot to fix up the place, and now it made a decent home for the remaining cheetahs in the world.

  I slapped palms with some of the kids, tossed a ball to one, and kept walking. I had an audience with the king today. The thought cracked me up. The king was the last person who would want his presence to be called an audience.

  I stopped at his door and knocked, though I knew he didn’t stand on such ceremony. When he didn’t answer, I strolled in. His house was hung with colorful tapestries, the kind you could get at local markets. I pushed aside the strands of beads hanging in a doorway and made my way out to the greenhouse, where the last cheetah king sat cross-legged on a mat in meditation pose.

  He cracked on eyelid and then a big smile. “Ah, my favorite billionaire,” he said in a voice that was both rich and rusty with age.

  “You hate billionaires,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t hate anything,” he crowed. “I simply choose not to focus on worldly possessions.”

  The king had chosen not to marry or have kids, which made him the last cheetah with royal blood. He’d shunned all that in favor of becoming enlightened. He had no money and very few possessions, and if anyone wanted anything he had, they just took it. Having spent my childhood eating out of garbage cans, I figured I’d paid my dues. I’d earned every penny I had, and I wasn’t ashamed of it.

  As a kid, it had looked to me like the king had turned a blind eye to all our suffering. But over the years, I’d come to respect him despite our opposing views, and I knew that he actually wanted to help people as much as I did. He just believed in doing it with prayer instead of cash.

  “I got a call for you,” I said.

  King Cheetah opened one eye again, peering at me from under a bushy white eyebrow. Tufts of white, fuzzy hair topped each ear, but his brown head was as bald and wrinkly as a raisin.

  “Who ever would be calling me?” he asked, as if it were inconceivable that someone would want to speak to the king of our nation. Whether he wanted the role or not, he had it.

  “King Ocelot,” I said. “Apparently, his daughter is now old enough to take the throne.”

  “What wonderful news,” King Cheetah crowed.

  “She needs the amulet,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere,” the king said, glancing around him at the greenery, as if it might be sitting in the dirt next to one of his plants. That wasn’t actually unlikely.

  “We’re supposed to make a bargain with their nation for it,” I reminded him.

  “Eh, I don’t want anything they have,” he said, waving a hand. “Let her have it.”

  I ground my teeth, thinking of how much we had needed something like that when I was a kid. How much it could have helped if we’d had a king who had the wits and cunning to bargain for his people’s treasures instead of handing them off as if the ancient traditions meant nothing.

  If it hadn’t taken any effort, he probably would have pulled out of the International Council of Feline Nations altogether. He’d have preferred to stay off the radar, like the Lynx Nation, who had chosen not to join the ICFN when it formed. But I knew how much we needed it. If not for the aid the ICFN had given us, we’d be extinct by now.

  I didn’t know a lot about the Ocelot Nation, but they had joined the ICFN despite not being big cats. I knew they were looked down upon by other nations. What little I knew beyond that, I could barely comprehend. Hearing about their ways was like hearing a history lesson in reverse. When shifters came out to humans, cheetahs had been persecuted and worse. Humans had committed genocide against our people, nearly obliterating our entire species.

  The Ocelot Clan had done the opposite. They had taken the country from humans, made them lowly peasants in their nat
ion compared to the esteemed shifters. Ocelots were considered the superior race. They’d never been spit on and mocked, used and coerced and threatened, their very existence a cause for hatred. The spoiled princess coming our way knew nothing but privilege and luxury.

  “Tradition dictates that we make some kind of trade for the mating amulet,” I told the king. “Or challenge them in some way.”

  “They’re welcome to come and trade for it,” he said. “Anything they like.”

  “Maybe I could come up with something,” I offered.

  “Of course,” he said. “That would be fine. I think it’s in a drawer in the kitchen. I know I saw it recently. Take it with you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say. It saddened me that the king could be so careless. I tried to understand him, to see the world through his eyes when I came here, but it wasn’t easy. There was more to life than what went on inside one’s own mind.

  I said my goodbyes and found the amulet in the kitchen, holding the lid closed on a box of tea. I slid it into my pocket and left the king, who told me to have the ocelot royals come for tea anytime. I knew that was all he’d be able to offer them. It was up to me to come up with a suitable challenge for the ocelot heir.

  I took out my phone as I walked, scrolling through to find some information on the Ocelot Kingdom. Unlike some other feline nations, they were isolationists and shied away from the media. I couldn’t imagine a life of quiet luxury any more than I could imagine their politics.

  From the pictures, it looked as if their small kingdom belonged in the middle ages. They didn’t allow vehicles inside the walls of the huge palace grounds. The surrounding city was tiny, with almost all the shifters living in the area. They had technology, but kept it largely hidden, keeping up appearances that they lived in much simpler times.

  By contrast, we lived in an enormous, modern city. I was a celebrity, known around the world for my killer smile, my godlike riches, and my abundance of women. I owned an entire city block, including a skyscraper in which a lot of the cheetah shifters lived.

  At last, I found some pictures of the princess. She looked as pale and appealing as a dead fish. In the most recent photo I could find, she was wearing a pantsuit and standing between two guards who had similarly lifeless eyes. I couldn’t think of a less fun job than challenging this woman.

  I was about to close the screen when I scrolled to the next picture and did a double take. The woman beside her, now she looked alive. All curves and wild hair, with eyes that begged for a challenge. I read the caption of the photo twice, trying to comprehend how this vixen could be related to the bland heir. But there it was. Her sister.

  Well, fuck me. That was a woman who looked like she was ready to challenge me. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a tiresome obligation after all. I had everything money could buy, enough women to warm my bed every night for the rest of my life, and fame that made me a star to the entire world. I was ready for a challenge.

  Six

  Itzel

  Princess, Ocelot Nation

  At Shadow’s claim, Lord Balam pulled away from me and spun to face Shadow. Quick as a snake, Shadow’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. He yanked me in front of him, his razor clawed hand wrapping around my throat as he secured my back against his chest. I stared at Lord Balam, my breath still coming quickly and my heart racing. I could feel the heat and hardness of Shadow’s cock against my ass, and a tremor of desire fluttered through me, turning my thighs liquid with fear and anticipation.

  Before I could speak, Shadow turned and bent me over the back of one of the fancy leather seats and knocked my thighs apart. His deadly claws rested just under my chin, threatening to puncture my throat if I moved. His hot cock throbbed against my opening, and I gasped, my legs going weak at the memory of him ripping into my unyielding flesh the first time. This time, I was so slick with Balam’s cum and my own juices that Shadow slid in easily, a helpless groan escaping his throat as he sank his cock to the hilt inside me.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped, pumping into me with quick, sharp movements. “I can’t help myself. Your pussy smells so fucking good, it’s this or eat you alive.”

  I expected Lord Balam to yank him off and rip his throat out, but his sharp claws against my throat made sure that wouldn’t happen. I searched the cabin for my lover and found him standing a few paces off, watching with a strange expression on his face. As I realized what that look was, a gaze of pure, shockingly raw lust, an erotic charge shot through me. I arched my back, my lips parting in a gasp of pleasure as my slickness coated Shadow’s cock. He growled, thrusting harder, his cock slamming into me faster and faster.

  His claws pressed into my throat so hard I was afraid they’d break the skin, and I tensed, drawing a strangled cry from Shadow as he pounded my hips into the back of the couch even harder. My thighs trembled at the power inside him, the power he was hammering into me with inhuman force. Because he wasn’t human. He really might eat me alive if I stopped him. Any person on this plane could snap and rip out my throat at any moment, not just Shadow.

  Balam might protect me, but he wasn’t going to stop Shadow. He loved watching him fuck me, his hips slapping my ass with each quick thrust, his own cum dripping down my legs, wetting me for Shadow’s pleasure. And I loved it, too. Not just the feel of Shadow’s cock punching into me, but the sight of Balam watching, the fact that he loved watching, that it turned him on. His arousal fueled my own, which fueled Shadow’s, all of it building inside me until I couldn’t hold back. My walls clamped down around Shadow’s cock, and he roared as he buried himself to the hilt inside me, cum shooting into me with painful force. Orgasm gripped my body, and I went rigid, my toes curling, my eyes falling shut, a cry tearing from my lips as wave after wave of pleasure rocketed into me.

  A cry of yes.

  Yes.

  Yes, I wanted this. I wanted every last inch of him straining inside me, his hot cum spurting into me, his cock throbbing as he came with me. Yes, I wanted him to want me so much he couldn’t help himself. I wanted him helpless with lust at seeing Lord Balam fuck me. And yes, I wanted my lover there watching, wanting me even more as another man fucked me—loving that another man fucked me. Loving that I wanted it so much I couldn’t help myself from crying out his name as my pussy squeezed every last drop from his cock.

  At last, Balam stepped toward us. “That was hot,” he said. “Think you’re ready for one more time?”

  I glared. “There’s still a man inside me. Think you could give it a rest for five minutes?”

  “Five minutes?” he asked with a smirk. “I think I could manage that.”

  I pushed up from the back of the couch, twisting away from Shadow. “I don’t know which of you is worse,” I said. “You can’t just take turns fucking me all the way to Africa just because it gets you hot and bothered watching someone else fuck me.”

  “We can’t?” Balam asked. “You sure looked like you were enjoying it to me.”

  “I was,” I growled. “But that doesn’t mean you can just treat me like your blowup doll. I’m a human being, too. I have things going on above the waist.”

  Balam ogled my chest and ran his tongue across his upper lip. “Yes, you do.”

  “I’m not fucking either of you again on this flight,” I said. “So you can put your dicks away unless you want to use them on each other.”

  Shadow eyed Lord Balam, whose massive cock was again standing at attention. Balam just grinned and flopped down on the couch, not bothering to cover it. “Too bad we don’t have any clothes.”

  “If Gabor can squeeze into something of Camila’s, you can, too,” I said.

  Fuck. Reality smacked into me, and I turned to retrieve my shorts. My sister was passed out on the couch, subdued by whatever tranquiller Gabor had used. Gabor was up there flying the plane. I could only hope all the engine noise had kept him from hearing our sex sounds.

  I pulled on my shorts, fixed my bra, and went to Camilla’s
bag. Even though I’d helped her dress during most of our trip, I felt like a snoop as I rooted through her bag. I pulled out a shirt and tugged it on, aware that it strained over my curves much tighter than it did on Camila’s thin frame. I was thinking about changing when my eyes fell on a little zippered pouch. She’d left it unzipped, and little tubes of neon yellow liquid spilled out. I paused, then picked up one of them.

  It wasn’t Camilla who had left the bag unzipped. It was Gabor, in his haste. I read the label on the little tube, but I couldn’t make sense of the medical terms on it. What had Gabor injected into my sister? And why did she have this, whatever it was? I rolled it between my finger and thumb, my heart nearly stopping when I saw a tiny skull-and-crossbones symbol on the other side of it. Even an idiot like me knew what that meant.

  I snatched up the bag and marched toward the cockpit. Fuck Gabor. If he’d heard what went on between me and my lovers—now plural—I’d deal with that later. Right now, he owed me answers. Answers like, where did his allegiance really lie? With Father or Camilla? I didn’t honestly think Father would kill his own daughter to keep the throne. But he might hire someone else to do it—someone unquestionably loyal, close to the throne, and obedient. Someone exactly like Gabor.

  Seven

  Gabor didn’t look up as I stepped over the naked pilot and dropped into the empty copilot seat. Camila’s pink pajamas lay neatly folded at my feet, and Gabor had dressed in the dead pilot’s uniform. It was not helping make him less attractive. Not at all.