Alien Scrooge - Zara Zenia Page 0,54

of life for me.

It was different now, though. I had something to lose. I was on the way to getting Corinne and me out of that and into a better life, and the instincts that kept me alive before had no place here. I had to bite my tongue until I tasted the bitter, coppery taste of blood in order to prevent myself from spewing vile words at this terrible woman in front of me.

“You know what gets at me?” Darla said, coming up behind me, oblivious to the well of anger inside me. “I gave you every opportunity, took you out of the gutter, took you under my wing, and this is how you repay me? This is the most important event we’ve hosted. If it doesn’t go off perfectly, it reflects on me!” She yelled dramatically and waved her hands in the air as if she were swimming against the swell of a panic attack. “And isn’t it just my luck that I have little bitches like you down here, sabotaging everything I’ve worked so hard for! What is that wretched smell?” She turned toward the saucier and scowled. Her nose wrinkled with patronizing disapproval.

He was a bow-legged man with a deep scar that extended from his hairline to his chin. He’d seen his share of horror. All of us had our scars, though. Some were just better hidden than others. Mine were tucked away beneath the surface and I never wanted them to see the light of day.

She marched around the room, laying into the other staff members who were unfortunate enough to still be stuck at their stations, and I let my mind wander, letting go of my anger in favor of better thoughts. You learn little tricks like that as a refugee. When things get too rough, too hard to process, you shut it out. Little tactics for preserving your sanity. It was a survival instinct of sorts, and I did what I could in order to not implode on myself.

I felt sorry for the ones currently receiving the brunt of her fury, but I’d endured my fair share in the process along the way. I blocked Darla’s shrill screeching out and let my thoughts drift to that secret place in my mind. The place I escaped to with him. In reality, my existence wasn’t even a speck on Prince Gardax’s radar, but in my mind, he was mine.

And in my mind, he made me his. Just the way I wanted it to be. The private seclusion of my mind was my oasis in a desert of chaos.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the warmth of his skin, pretend that he was holding me to him. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, and he wasn’t even a man—not a human one, anyway. It didn’t matter, though, because he made me feel more like a woman than I had ever felt. Shivers and trembles of pleasure ran up and down my spine. There was no euphoria that could ever match the depth of passion that I felt toward him.

He would kiss me gently, drawing all the stress and aches from my body as he murmured softly, assuring me that I was safe, that Corinne would be safe, that everything was going to get better. His hands were so strong as they stroked my back, my shoulders, massaging my tired muscles . . . not that princes probably gave massages, but it was my fantasy, so why not? There were no rules in the cobwebs of my lust-clouded mind.

It would have been the ultimate humiliation if anyone knew what went through my mind in moments like that. The heat of desire and shame flushed my cheeks and sprinkled them a rosy red color.

How ridiculous that I, a lowly, pathetic cook and maid, dreamed of Prince Gardax’s lips curving in a secret smile meant just for me. It was pitiful, no doubt, but when you live most of your life in either a warzone or a refugee camp, you don’t exactly have a lot of happy memories to pull from.

So naturally, I created my own pleasurable world where I was in charge of my fate and blissful serenity accompanied me from all sides. I created little stories in my mind, dreamy, romantic scenes that were about as far removed from reality as I could get. It helped me get through the grueling, insufferable days. I tried not to stay locked in