Princess of Frost - Mila Young Page 0,3
here before?"
I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice as I tremble. "Please, don't do this. I need to go back."
"No one will notice you're gone." He looks over his shoulder. "Isn't that right?"
The others nod.
Fucking asses.
"Now, let's look at those pretty tits of yours." His meaty hands grab my shoulders and drags me against him, his grip solid.
I shove my hands against his chest, but he's like a mountain against me.
His large hand gropes my breast, then fists my black maid’s dress, tugging at it to rip it off me.
Panic surges through me, my heart pounding in my chest, while pictures pop into my mind of these monsters raping me in here without a care.
Terror pummels over me, but instinct kicks in. I shove myself closer to him and drive my knee into his groin, hard and all the way up so he'll remember me well.
Groaning like a pig, his grip loosens.
I twist away from him, but not before he swings a closed fist, clipping me in the side of the face. I stagger, clasping my jaw, and taste blood in my mouth.
Other guards are on their feet, glaring at me as their friend collapses to his knees, crying in pain, clutching his damaged goods.
I swing around and lunge away, then drag open the door and run for my life. My boots sink in the snow, but I don't stop.
Looking over my shoulder, several guards emerge from the stables and run after me.
I spring alongside trees, power rushing past my fingertips. "Let it snow like it's never snowed before," I whisper.
The weather darkens in a heartbeat, and snow falls so fast and hard, I can hardly see the castle. But I know my way well enough. My power only lasts for a short while, then the effect fades. But it’s enough time for me to slip away.
Their voices bellow in the fading storm, but I don't care if they trip and break their necks. I run until I reach the rear door. In no time, I'm inside and sprinting down the corridor, tears springing to my eyes that the bastard touched me. I want them to hurt so much.
Around the next corner, I crash into someone and bounce backward, my feet tripping out from under me.
I cry out as I fall on my ass.
In front of me stands the prince's second, a tall man in his fifties, dressed in a long coat buttoned up from his neck to his knees. Dark, short hair brings out the blue of his eyes, and his nose scrunches as he looks down at me.
"Careful," he barks, then does the unexpected and reaches down to grab my arm. He hauls me to my feet, and only then do I see he's not alone.
A man steps out from behind him, along with several guards who emerge from down the corridor. It takes me a few moments to realize I’m looking at Prince Eryk, and I meet his gaze, completely forgetting I’m never supposed to look him in the eyes.
He’s the prince all the females in the court swoon over; they talk about him incessantly, like they can't get him out of their minds. One of the maids once told me if I looked into his eyes, I’d never be able to stop thinking about him.
He has black lashes, strong cheek cones, and perfect lips I can’t stop staring at. I've only ever seen him from afar. Yet Prince Eryk’s green eyes meet mine, and he looks at me like a specimen in a jar and not like a person, but I’ve accepted my place long ago… then why does my heart beat so hard, why does my dress strain against my chest with each inhale? He tilts his head, watching me suddenly, like a hawk studying a mouse.
"Is everything alright?" His second steps between us, breaking our stares. "You're bleeding," he says.
Instinctively, I reach my hand to the corner of my mouth where the skin split from that meathead hitting me. "I'm fine. Thank you." I lower my head and step aside as the second guides the prince and his soldiers down the dark hallway that leads to the main part of the castle.
The prince doesn't look my way, but keeps his posture stiff and tall, his long black coat falling to his ankles. Hair dark as the night falls over his shoulders. Stories speak of him easily overpowering any of his guards or soldiers. They also call him the most hated prince in all