His Princess (A Royal Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

us.”
    “It matters to me. Tell me.”
    “Danielle. Danielle McCray.”
    I blink a few times. “Wait, from the news network?”
    She nods. “Yeah. I was in Solkovia for a puff piece about the missionary work you guys do and I stumbled on Brad. I started asking questions, he promised me a huge scoop, put me on a truck, and brought me here.”
    “Did they…”
    “Only the general gets me. Until you showed up, anyway. He’ll probably kill me tonight. I don’t care. I’m already dead.”
    I swallow, hard. I don’t know what to say.
    “Don’t fight him. Promise me you won’t fight him. You don’t know what he does to girls that fight him.”
    “Did you fight?”
    “No. He made me watch him do it to the girl before me. He used a knife.”
    Brad must be done talking, because the general comes back in.
    I take my first really good look at him. He’s about five foot eight, tanned like leather, with an oily reddish beard and thinning gray hair. He smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, and his uniform, such as it is, is stained with sweat. He walks over and jabs his foot hard into Danielle’s side, and she grunts, biting down on a cry of pain.
    He pulls a long folding knife from his pocket and flicks it open. It ratchets as it opens up. The blade is long and wider toward the tip, swept back like a tiny saber. He jabs it down and I freeze as he slices through the ropes binding my ankles. Melissa starts to whimper as he drags me to my feet and shoves me forward, out of the tent.
    I’m greeted by a chorus of catcalls and jeers. Brad watches like he’s watching a football game between two teams he doesn’t care for, puffing out his indifference on a short, foul-smelling cigarette.
    The general pushes me through the camp. I trip a few times over loose rocks and stumble forward, and his fingers dig into my arm. A quick shove sends me onto a carpeted plank floor in his tent, and he nudges me with his boot.
    “Get up,” he says, in English.
    I awkwardly get on my knees and scramble to my feet.
    Think, Penny. There has to be a way out of this. This can’t happen. Not to me.
    It’s going to happen to me. He’s got a pair of cots with thin mattresses pushed together in a crude double bed.
    He steps over to me, knife in hand, and grabs my shirt. He saws through the fabric and tears it away in ragged strips, until I’m down to my bra. He repeats the process with my shorts and I feel the blade skim over my ass, cold against my skin.
    He admires me for a moment. His eyes are like disgusting lizards crawling on my skin, leaving sticky trails. I want this to stop now. I want to wake up.
    “I speak English,” he says, in the slow tones of someone who doesn’t do it very well. “CIA man says you are not virgin. This true?”
    He touches the tip of the blade to my chin. “You not lie. You lie I cut.”
    Trembling, I squeak out, “I’m not a virgin.”
    I’m not sure that’s what he wants to hear. If I say I am, he’ll probably think I’m just trying to get away from him and hurt me for it.
    What choice do I have? God only knows what he’ll do to me if he thinks I’m lying.
    “Good. Virgin cost too much for man like me. Used girl feel the same when wrapped around cock.”
    Holding the blade edge down, he sticks it between my legs and I tense. The dull back of the knife touches me and I go stone still, my blood freezing. Oh God.
    “How many man you fuck? Not lie.”
    I swallow. “One.”
    The flat of the blade presses against my inner thigh. One quick cut and I’ll be dead before I hit the floor.
    “Not lie.”
    “One, I swear to God I’ve only ever had sex with one man.”
    “You love him?”
    I swallow again. “Yes. Very much.”
    “Where is he now? You leave him in America?”
    My voice is hollow.
    “He’s dead.”
    “You sad for dead man you fuck?”
    A horrible urge floods through me. Just tell him to fuck off and let him kill you, Penny. It has to be better than this.
    “Yes. I am sad for