Corrupt Prince by Ivy Mason

Twelve

It tookme forever to fall asleep, my anger was so intense. I tossed and turned all night, filled with nightmares of drowning in the ocean. I was restless until I felt strong arms around me, a low, calming voice lulling me back to a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, the bed next to me was empty, and I wondered if I'd dreamed about the mysterious prince of hell who soothed nightmare maidens back to sleep.

I spent the whole day by myself, not even bothering to try to get out of the room or contact him. If I was going to help him, he knew how to find me. Marisol brought me my food, as usual, but this time she stayed longer to talk to me.

By the middle of the day, I was growing restless, and spent several minutes staring outside of the window at the pool.

The view from Coulter's room was higher up than my first one, and had a much better view of the sparkling water. But what I really wanted was to get my hands on that garden.

I itched with need and decided, screw it. Humming a Britney Spears song, I bustled around the room, gathering what I needed to make my escape. Even if I didn’t make it far, at least I’d get some exercise in. And the garden was just too inviting.

Just as I'd started tying bedsheets together, the door unlocked then slammed back against the wall.

I didn’t need to look up to know it was the bastard himself, Coulter.

I ignored him, continuing to tie two sheets together, singing out the words to Womanizer as loud as possible because well, it was fucking appropriate.

As soon as I paused to suck in a deep breath, I heard him grunt, "What in the hell are you doing?"

“Singing, duh.” I answered, before belting out the lyrics as I worked on my homemade rope. The sheets weren't long enough but no matter, I had a shit ton of his button up shirts lying in a pile next to me.

After a minute, just as I was finishing up the song, he came to loom over me, a scowl on his face. “Obviously you know how to butcher an old—“

“And fitting,” I interrupted.

“--song, but I’m talking about this.” He pointed at the sheets.

“It’s my new craft project.” Grinning, I held it up for him to see, then fake pouted as his frown deepened. “You don’t like it?”

“What’s it for, Aster?” he grated out, his jaw flexing harshly.

I shrugged. “I need sun and air. If you’re not going to give it to me, I'll find a way to get it myself."

He leaned over, picking up one of his shirts with a disbelief on his face. My fingers worked faster, double tying the material to make a bigger knot. I needed them big enough to use as little ledges to help me climb down.

"You really think that's going to work?"

I smiled to myself. Boys really needed to stop underestimating me. "Yep."

He had no idea the kinds of things I'd done as a kid, forever escaping my nannies to run free and wild on the large farm behind our house.

I was a wild child, and hadn't grown out of my need for openness and freedom.

Even though his presence loomed over me, I kept going, ignoring him. I was grateful that he was pretending that nothing had happened last night.

At least he didn't wave his rejection in my face.

I’d have burned his room down if he did. The idiot hadn't taken away my lighter.

He shifted and, to my surprise, sat next to me. "Show me how to do it, and I'll help you."

I yanked the shirt from his hands. "Or you could just let me walk down the stairs to the garden."

"But what's the fun in that?" He turned to face the window. "That's what you want? To see the garden."

“Yes." I flicked the buttons of his shirt open, then twisted it tight. "I've been stuck in this room for days, not even allowed to go to any other part of the house." At his protest, I added, “Except for last night, when you either wanted to intimidate me, or use me to get information."

When he didn't answer, I glanced at him.

He was still staring towards the window. His profile was regal, with a strong jawline and sharp nose. He had a new scrape on his cheek and a slight reddening tone to it, like someone who had a large ring on his finger had hit him.

I wanted to feel bad for him, but then I thought of how he'd kissed me last night, then rejected me like trash.

I could almost still feel him on my skin, even though I’d taken a very thorough shower.

The intensity of his emotions last night had burst from him like a coiled up snake, waiting to bite.

Then he did, striking my heart so harshly that I'd found it hard to breathe.

And now, his poison was bleeding through my body, running through my veins, sinking deep into my soul.

If I was his nightmare, then he was my grim reaper, come to lead my soul to its death with his tortured look.

Gritting my teeth and tamping down on my feelings for him, I tied the next shirt, wondering if he would even let me use my impromptu ladder.

Knowing my luck, one of the knots would probably come loose and I'd fall to my death.

At least it'd be quicker than falling for a cold man such as Coulter.

"What did you find out about the notebook?" I tried to fill the silence so my thoughts wouldn’t stifle me.

He turned to me, his manner cold once more. "That's none of your business."

I crooked an eyebrow at him, undoing the buttons on another one of his shirts. "I think Marie would be severely disappointed to find out that you went back on your word."

“Marie will never know."

"Yes she will." I grinned, showing my teeth. "She's too scared of your father to trust you otherwise."

"I’m not putting you in danger," he scoffed, "you've seen what kind of sick tastes he has."

"I don't think you have a choice in the matter." Abandoning my project, I stood, straightening my spring dress. "It’s your own fault. You made the decision to use me, now you have to deal with the consequences."

"Fine," he stood, his voice dripping with bitterness, "be ready at ten p.m.” His eyes drifted to my dress, "And wear something a little more subtle."

I crossed my hands over my chest. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"For starters, you need to put on a bra.”

"Why? Too much temptation for you?"

"Yes." His responding stare into my eyes burned so hot, I had to look away. My skin prickled at his intensity.

Just like last night, it had come suddenly and unexpectedly.

The tension between us filled the air with thick sexual heat.

I wasn't even looking at him, instead, at the curtains blowing in the soft breeze, but his awareness on me felt like a caress across my skin.

I hated how attracted I was to him.

How much I'd thought about that kiss all night and day.

He'd protected me at the club last night, not only getting that guy off me, but comforting me when I was freaking out.

He brought me cookies and soothed my nightmares last night.

In every thing he did, he showed me that he cared.

And yet, his rejection couldn't have been more frigid.

And I hated how much it hurt, because I wanted more. Wanted the man who burned for me so strongly that it scorched straight through me.

My body was strung tight, my muscles tense, vibrating with the need for him to reach out and touch me.

Just one soft touch. A soothing caress.

Somethingto show me that this coldness was all an act.

But he didn't move.

I swallowed down the emotions threatening to emerge, willing them to go away. I wouldn't show him my true self.

Ever.

"What am I supposed to wear then?" I finally broke the tension between us, my own voice growing cold and emotionless.

"Jeans and a t-shirt. Tennis shoes."

His touch made me jump; I hadn't been expecting it. His finger traced over the swell of my breast, and I felt my nipples perk in response.

I didn't look at him, didn't want to see if his gaze had softened. I was afraid of the desire I may see there.

Because even if, and that was a big if, he did want me, I knew that Coulter would never give in to his feelings for me.

Men like him were too hardened and afraid to give in to their true feelings.

I felt his presence draw closer and I closed my eyes, trying to block out the largeness of his presence. The way that it pulled at me, bidden unwillingly, like gravity and the tide. “Please stop.”

Ignoring me, he leaned down, his hand landing on my waist to squeeze it. He pressed his mouth to my ear, his breath over my skin making me shiver as he growled, “Wear something subtle. I don't want to gouge out the eyes of any man looking at you."

Then he was gone, leaving me to suck in a breath at the emotions tumbling through me.