Page 30 of Princess Redeemed

I close my eyes…hope…pray…beg…

And when my eyes open…

Nothing.

Not a fucking thing.

No magic portal.No ether.No Rogan.And no vampire king father with a desire to help me.

I pace again.How did I get there before?I was with Rogan.He was… He was protecting me.Protectingus.

There was no portal.We just got there.

Except…therewasa portal—in Rogan’s closet at his place in The London.A portal to my stepfather’s lair.

Think, Hannah, think!

I don’t want to go to the demon’s lair.No one will protect me there, but my instinct—that tingling at the back of my neck—is telling me to go there.

It’s not the ether.Or is it?

Is Rogan there?

Why else would I have the primordial urge to hop on a plane to Las Vegas, go to The London, break into Rogan’s place, and slide through that portal?

I’ve got to try.It’s the only way I know to get anywhere but this world, and my body is telling me to go.

I rush to my bathroom, wipe the sticky blood from my face.I don’t bother packing a bag.I leave my apartment, forcing myself to walk straight despite the pain surging through me, and hail a cab to take me to the airport.

17

I’m workingon pure maternal instinct when I finally get to The London on the Vegas Strip.Only the child inside me forces me to continue despite the pain, despite the longing hunger.

Must get to the portal in Rogan’s room…

Must…

I drag my exhausted body through the ornate marble lobby, past the casino, ignoring the hazy smoke, the ringing bells of the slot machines, the aroma of human blood.

The aroma of…

“Hannah!”

I turn.It’s Dominic Park, his platinum-blond hair and silvery eyes more attractive than ever to me.What’s he doing here?Last I heard he went to fight.

He’s no Rogan, but he’s a handsome man, though it’s not his body that calls to me.

It’s his blood.

I inhale, my fangs snapping painfully out of my gums.

He’s wolf.

Notmywolf, but he’s wolf.

I draw in a deep breath, letting the aroma of his blood infuse me.It rattles through his veins, thundering toward his heart and then gliding out to his body via his arteries.The sound is music—a fucking symphony to my blood lust.

I grab his arm, my strength defying logic, and force him into an elevator.“I need to go to Rogan’s penthouse.”