Page 1 of The Princess’s Pet (Soul Match #1)

Rosemary was everything my father deserved. She was beautiful, homely, and could calm the beast within him with just a smile. She was exactly what the middle-aged fisherman needed. He had grieved my mother for seventeen years before Rosemary came along. Everyone deserves love.

They had been together for over a year now and last week they announced that Rosemary was with child. It was perfect. If you took me out of the picture, they would be the picture-perfect family. And, well, I was eighteen, no longer a child. The small beachfront house I called home was cramped as it was and there would be little space for another person, even a baby, with me there. Sadly, I knew I had to move on out.

I was working in my garden, humming to my tomato plants and encouraging their growth. Technically, very little should have been able to grow in the soil of our garden, so salted by the sea. But being half-witch from the Flores coven gave me green fingers. Every living plant I touched or sang to would sprout new life. We all have gifts, my father told me when I was little. My mother’s gift was for aquatic plant life. That’s how they met: my father found my mother floating on a bed of seaweed while he was fishing. My gift wasn’t anything special. I didn’t have the power of a full-blooded witch, but I could grow just about any plant. A useful gift especially during bad harvests. The tomatoes were almost ready for picking. Rosemary had interrupted me. Her face was red and she wrung her hands on her flour-covered apron.

“Persephone, can you please come inside?” she asked. Her voice trembled slightly, and I was caught off guard by the use of my actual name; everyone I knew called me Percy.

I stood, wiping my dirt-covered hands on my old, worn blue jeans, and walked towards Rosemary. She stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, lifted a clean edge of her apron, and began wiping at my forehead.

“Rosemary, what are you doing?” I laughed, confused, but I didn’t push her hand away.

“You’ve got soil on your face.” She stepped back smiling at me but her usual warm smile wavered.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” I asked, suddenly panicked, and my hand reflexively moved towards her stomach. She shook her head, pressing her lips together.

“The baby is fine,” she reassured, taking my hand in both of her own. “There is… I can’t believe this. Oh, Percy.” She seemed to choke on her words.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Is it Father?” If it wasn’t the baby, then it had to be Father to make Rosemary so sad like this. She shook her head again.

“They’re here for you,” she whispered, looking behind herself and back at the light blue house.

“Who is?” I whispered back conspiratorially. Everyone I knew lived on or near this beach.

“A Royal,” she answered, her head bowed and eyes not looking my way.

It took me a moment, really a moment too long, to catch up to what Rosemary was telling me. It was just so unexpected. This wasn’t meant to happen. It never happened.

“Percy,” she whispered, getting my attention. I looked away from the house and back to Rosemary. “You have to go meet her,” she said, giving me a forced smile of reassurance. I nodded my head, and Rosemary led me back to our small house, holding my hand.

My head swirled as we walked back towards the wooden back porch. A Royal here for me. I never thought this would—or even could—happen. Not really. When I gave my blood sample for testing, as was the law on my eighteenth birthday almost a year ago, I didn’t even think about the possibility. Soul match testing was just something that happened. It never meant anything. No one ever actually matched with a Royal or noble. But apparently, it could happen, and it did happen—to me.

My heart beat a race inside my chest as Rosemary opened the door while still tightly clasping my hand in her own.

My father sat with his back to us at the small table in our kitchen. Before him stood two guards in the deep midnight-blue uniform of the reigning monarchy. My father’s large frame prohibited me from seeing the figure who sat opposite him at the table. All that was visible at first was black as night hair, waves falling over one shoulder.

Rosemary cleared her throat as she pulled me to her side protectively and I stumbled into her. My father turned, standing from his seat and stepping aside. I saw her for the first time. Well, for the first time in person. Her regal face was one the whole country was familiar with.

She stood from her seat, much taller than I expected—about the same height as my father, and he was a tall beast shifter. Her form was not small but rather womanly, with a noticeable cinched waist and wider hips to match her bust. She wasn’t large, but she was evenly proportioned in an almost too-perfect way that one would expect from a princess.

Her silver-grey eyes met mine for a moment before Rosemary pulled my arm, and my senses, momentarily lost, were found. I averted my gaze .

“This is my daughter, Persephone Flores—Percy.” My father introduced me sounding awkward. I looked at him, but he did not offer any smile. His brows were pushed together, and his yellow eyes glowed, signalling he wasn’t at all happy and holding in his wolf beast.

“She isn’t a beast shifter?” the Princess spoke, I supposed to my father.

“No, her mother was of the Flores coven,” my father answered. And while the pain wasn’t as strong when he spoke of my mother as it once had been, I could still hear the slightest change in his tone.

“That explains her odd eyes, then,” the Princess continued, speaking as if I wasn’t there. I looked up again, unthinking, to her face and was met with a scowl. “Does she have a beast?” the Princess asked once I looked away.

“No, she is not a half-shifter,” my father answered without further explanation.

“What else contaminates her blood and yours?” the Princess asked. I heard my father inhale through his nose to calm himself. He didn’t particularly like purebloods that thought themselves special or above the rest of us.

“Vampire, of the Auster coven,” my father gritted out between clenched teeth, still trying his best to remain calm.

“The Auster coven. And relation?” the Princess asked, sounding almost amused.

“My grandfather—Percy’s great-grandfather—was Nikolas Auster,” my father explained.

“Prince Nikolas Auster, you mean,” the Princess corrected. “While the Auster coven has chosen to taint their bloodlines they were, at one time, worthy of royalty. ”

My father didn’t respond. I met my great-grandfather once before he passed. I was very small, but I remember him being fun and silly. He took me for ice cream. I knew my father loved him dearly. But as far as I knew, he held no royal title. He was a pureblood, true, but most purebloods held no title.

“Hmm,” The Princess hummed in contemplation. “An interesting mix.” She paused and took a few quick steps toward me. Rosemary tensed, still clutching my hand, beside me. The Princess stopped directly in front of me, and I did my best to stare at her collarbone and not look up into the liquid-silver eyes of a Borealis Royal. “You’ll be leaving with me now,” she commanded. There was no question.

“No, she will not!” my father snapped, angrily. The two guards with the Princess braced, their hands moving towards guns at their hips.

“The only other choice is death,” the Princess spoke calmly, not turning her head in my father's direction.

“I’ll tear your...” My father began but did not finish as Rosemary released my hand and flung herself into my father's arms. Her sudden movement caused the guards to twitch in my peripheral vision. My father caught her in his arms and I heard her frantic whispers, pleading with my father to calm down.

“May-maybe we c-could talk privately, for a bit?” I asked, daring to look up at the Princess. Her brows lifted in surprise, just barely, and her lips held only the hint of a smile.

“Why?” the Princess asked simply.

“So, we can agree on my leaving or d-d-death,” I stuttered out. Her presence was intimidating, and she stood only inches away, staring down at me. I was no fool. The Borealis coven was very strong. If rumours were true the Princess could end my father, Rosemary, and me, before her guards even had a chance to try and protect her. The way things were going my father would get us all killed. I needed to remove him from the situation.

“Where do you suppose we speak privately?” she asked, her eyes never leaving my face.

“M-my garden,” I whispered in response. I didn’t know why finding my voice was so difficult under her stare.

She seemed to think for a brief time. She didn’t seem happy about speaking with me, but after a few shaky breaths of my own, she nodded. “Lead the way,” she commanded.

I walked stiffly out the open door. My father called my name, but I didn’t look back. I was acutely aware of the Princess walking by my side. I stopped once I reached the furthest end of my garden.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me privately,” I said as I turned and looked up, my yellow and blue eyes meeting her liquid-silver ones.

“Speak,” was her only reply.

I gulped. I knew there was a chance that my life would end soon. Especially if my request was deemed insulting. I didn’t know how to behave with royalty or nobility. I had no social standing myself. But if my words were to end in my death, at least I’d die in my garden among the strawberries, my favourite fruit.

“I know that if I don’t go with you, it’s the same as choosing death,” I started. “But I ask that if you want me to come with you willingly, I would do so in exchange for something from you.”

She laughed mockingly, slowly, her face contorting to almost disgust.

“And out of pure curiosity, what is it you think you can ask of me?” the Princess hissed .

It took all my resolve to continue and not step away from her in fear.

“I’ll go with you, willingly, if you can ensure my family's financial future.” I explained. I had no choice here. Not really. I was playing with my death, currently. But still, a part of me believed that something good could come from this. If Father and Rosemary and the child I’ll never know could be taken care of, that would be something good. That would almost make my life have some meaning at least.

The Princess was quiet before asking, “And how much do you suppose you are worth?”

I didn’t know how much a person was worth. I knew the Royals had slaves and would purchase others, but it wasn’t something people like me were familiar with. We were lucky enough that we didn’t have to sell ourselves, but that didn’t mean life was easy. That didn’t mean we were never hungry. When my gift developed, and I became able to help, we didn’t know painful hunger again. But without me and my garden, I didn’t know how long before my family would be hungry once more. And the thought was unbearable.

“How much does a person cost usually?” I asked her in response. She smiled at me unkindly.

“A filthy mixed blood like you?” she asked, and though her words stung, I nodded. “Hmm, no more than five hundred gold coins,” she said, as if it were a pathetic amount. My eyes must have shown how large such an amount was. My father couldn’t earn so much in a lifetime.

She smiled that cruel way again. “I forget that such small sums are a fortune to the lower classes,” she said with a sigh.

“Will you p-pay my father five hundred gold coins for me?” I asked nervously. This was where I silently prayed to Poseidon to help sway the Princess. She didn’t have to buy me. She could simply take me; no one could stop her. She could cut me down where I stood next to the strawberries, and no one could stop her.

“You think I should pay for you?” she sneered.

“I would leave with you right away. No fuss,” I explained.

“I could simply kill you and be done with all this soul match nonsense,” she replied calmly.

“You could,” I agreed. “But why would you kill your soul match? We don’t know what could come of us. Don’t you want to know what might be?” I asked.

The moment the last word was from my mouth, her hand was wrapped tightly around my throat in a grip that stopped my breath.

“Never question me,” she growled, her silver eyes glowing brightly. “There will be no bond shared between us. I am Princess Selene Borealis, heir to the throne. You are nothing but a filthy mongrel, a peasant begging for scraps.” Her hand increased in pressure, and I choked soundlessly, tears streaming from my eyes. She held my gaze for what felt like an eternity before throwing me to the ground.

I landed among my strawberries. The small bushes seemed to wilt beside me. It was a new strangeness I would have pondered, if I weren’t gasping for breath on my hands and knees at the feet of a princess I thought about to end my life.

“You must be a fool,” she spat. “But even fools can be made useful,” she said more softly. “I’ll buy you from your father. Five hundred gold coins. We leave immediately; there will be no chance for farewells.”

She bent down, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and lifted me easily to my feet before dragging me away from my garden, away from my home, and towards a large black SUV parked on the road .

I didn’t dare say a word as another guard, dressed in the same midnight-blue uniform, opened the car door. I was roughly pushed inside, closely followed by the Princess.

“Arrange payment of five hundred gold coins to Oceanus Maria for his daughter,” the Princess spoke commandingly. The guard nodded once before shutting the door and heading towards the small blue house on the beach that was my home no more. I once again silently prayed to Poseidon that he quelled my father's temper and that he, Rosemary, and my unborn sibling could live a good and happy life.

I watched the Princess from my peripheral vision, too nervous to look at her directly. My throat ached and my lungs held a phantom burn from lack of air when the Princess’s hand had seemed to be on the verge of crushing my throat.

“Nothing to say now?” The Princess sneered down at me. Even in a seated position, she was taller than me by a few inches, and I felt that height difference, acutely aware of my physical inferiority.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes trained on my hands in my lap, trying to control my breathing and stave off the panic that bubbled in my stomach. One minute it seemed I was humming sweetly to my plants, and the next, everything I ever knew—or thought I might have known—was gone. I could feel panic wanting to consume me, but I would not let it. The Princess was my soul match, and so there was hope enough in me to keep strong.

Her slim hand reached out and tugged my jaw upward, forcing me to look at her. She wasn’t overly rough, but there was no doubt about the power that lay in her hand.

“Look at me, mongrel,” she commanded and I met her eyes. Her face was still slightly twisted in disgust with me. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, and to be addressed directly,” she explained, not letting go of my jaw .

“I understand,” I spoke quietly, not wanting to anger her. “I don’t have anything to say,” I added, answering her original question.

The pressure of her fingers on my jaw increased fractionally, her eyes slightly brighter in ire. “You will refer to me as ‘my Royal Highness’ or for you and your new place ‘Mistress,’ or ‘Ma’am,’” she said coldly.

“Yes, my Royal Highness,” I answered, showing I had understood what she expected. She smiled mockingly before forcing my head to the side and leaning towards me. Her nose grazed my neck as she inhaled deeply.

“You smell appetising.” She breathed against my neck, hot air creating gooseflesh to rise. I held my breath. The Royals were known to feed however they liked, from whoever they liked. Blood slaves were an old tradition they kept while the rest of the world had moved on. From the stories I’d heard, and the history I learned when at school, death was better than the fortune of a blood slave. My breath caught in my throat. Is that what I had sold myself into? Had I sold myself to be a blood slave of a princess?

“Lucky for you, I’m not thirsty,” she continued, taking one last long inhale, her nose pressed tightly against the thrumming artery of my neck, before she pulled away and released my jaw.

It wasn’t long before we were moving. I didn’t see the guard return; there must have been another vehicle I hadn’t noticed. The journey was tense; I could feel the Princess’s gaze falling upon me regularly. Like when you know a storm is coming, her eyes set anxiety swirling in me.

After we drove so long the sun began to set and I no longer had any idea where we were in relation to the sea—a new and strange feeling for me—I desperately wanted to ask where we were going and how much longer we would travel .

I turned my head towards the Princess. Her eyes were already on me. “My Royal Highness, where are we going?” I asked softly, not looking away.

She held my gaze, always seeming to hold my gaze, but her thoughts were indecipherable.

“We are returning to my residence at the Royal Sanguis Academy, where I am currently enrolled,” she informed me. I found this strange, the Princess seemed older than me—not by much, but well past school age. Something about my face must have told her of my confusion, and she asked “Is there something wrong with that?” the sneer returning to her tone.

“No, my Royal Highness, it’s just that I thought you were older, maybe past schooling,” I answered her.

She smiled at me as if I were a clueless child. “The common class is entered into compulsory education only until their sixteenth year. The Royal and nobility class receive far greater and more comprehensive education, usually until our twenty-fifth year. I am currently in my twenty-third year and have this year and next left to complete my formal education,” she explained, and seemed to wait for a reply.

“I understand now, Ma’am,” I said, nodding my head. “Is the Academy much further?” I asked.

She made a tsking sound. “You have so much to learn in ways of how to communicate with those so much higher above your standing. But I can appreciate that you are trying,” she said coldly. I wasn’t sure what I had done to upset her. Was it asking questions? Did I not address her right? She turned away from me, not answering my question. I was too nervous to voice the question again.

At some point, I had fallen asleep. I knew this when I was roughly pulled from the vehicle and fell onto my knees on hard gravel. The Princess stared down at me when I looked up, bewildered and confused for a few moments, as to where I was and what was happening, before I remembered my current situation and scrambled to my feet.

The Princess began to walk up the stairs of an impressive mansion, the likes of which I had only seen or read described in books. I walked trailing slightly behind her. Once at the entrance to the large building the doors opened without so much as a knock. Guards dressed in deep red held open the doors soundlessly, and I followed the Princess into a large lounge area immediately behind the entrance doors.

In the middle of the room stood a grand staircase that the Princess walked towards. I followed her, my head swiveling around as I took in the grandeur of the place, all deep reds, and gold. The Princess walked down corridors and halls, showing she knew them well, before stopping in front of a door, with a Royal guard in midnight-blue uniform—the Princess’s colours.

The guard bowed low before straightening and opening the door. Once again I followed the Princess inside.

The room seemed to be a small house within the mansion. We were greeted with a seating area and table. There were two doors—one was open revealing a large marble bathroom the other was closed.

The sound of the guard closing the heavy door behind us made me jump; my nerves were on edge.

“These are my private quarters here at the Royal Sanguis Academy,” the Princess said, dramatically falling onto the ornate couch in the room. I stayed standing, not knowing what to do, waiting for instruction. She gazed up at me, her arms lazily draped over the back of the couch. “I’m not sure what to do with you,” she spoke, mostly to herself while she seemed to take in my entire form.

She exhaled long and low before leaning slightly forward. “Anything I want, I suppose.” She laughed, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. She could do with me whatever she wanted with me, and I was no use to stop her. I felt like I should be terrified as I waited for the Princess to decide exactly what she would do with me.

Her silver eyes glowed in the glum, poorly lit room. The corners of the room were dark shadows where anything could hide. Her ample chest rose and fell softly, her black blouse straining only slightly. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, encased in fancy black trousers. She breathed in deeply as she leaned forward, her arms leaving the back of the couch.

She raised one arm slowly and called me forward silently with the curve of her finger. I walked towards her, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I stopped when her gesture did, directly before her. She uncrossed her legs this time spreading her knees and pointing to the space on the floor between them. “Kneel,” she commanded, and I cautiously complied falling to my knees between her legs.

She smiled down at me—a smug, the cat that caught the canary, kind of smile—her molten-silver eyes sparkling. She reached out and I flinched. Tutting, she paused slightly before continuing towards me and pushing my sand-coloured hair away from my face and behind my ears.

“Your eyes are an oddity,” she mused, holding my stare. I couldn’t look away as she cupped my cheek. “One yellow, the other blue and they glow a little too,” she almost whispered. “I’ve never seen a mongrel with such expressive eyes before you,” she continued, insulting. “My soul match—how embarrassing you are.” She laughed dryly.

I didn’t respond, but I could feel my frown. A soul match was meant to mean the possibility of the strongest bond one would ever form. A soul match could mean any type of bond: friends, family, romance, but the bond was meant to be exquisite. A bond unbreakable if created, like no other.

It wasn’t destiny as such. You could meet your soul match and never form a bond. There was no instant connection. Only possibility. Great possibility. It meant your soul was entwined with another irrevocably, whether anything came of it or not. And that was the problem. My soul was entwined with the Princess’s, and that meant that I could be used against her.

Dark magic could be used through me to affect the Princess. It was why it was the law that all those of lower standing submitted their blood for soul match testing. The Royals and nobility wanted to know if there was someone of lower class walking around—knowingly or unknowingly—with the power to cause them harm. I had never heard of anyone matching with a Royal or noble before, but here I was, on my knees, being called embarrassing by the one person who was meant to, rather could, mean more to me than any other. The insult hurt.

“Have I offended you?” the Princess asked, amused, and she stroked her thumb against my cheek.

“I just thought Ma’am, imagined, that soul matching would be different,” I answered tightly. She hummed, her hand dropping away from my face.

“So did I,” she said calmly. “But here we are. I’ve chosen to keep you alive, so I must keep you close,” she said while once again lifting a hand towards me. This time her hand tangled in my hair and stroked the back of my head. The sensation was foreign but not unpleasant. “You’ll be my personal servant—more like my pet, really—for the rest of your life or however long I can be bothered with you,” she explained, stroking my head and pulling slightly at my scalp. The action was almost soothing, and I struggled not to close my eyes or lean into her touch.

“What does being your servant entail, Ma’am?” I asked, and her fingers stopped combing through my hair. She took a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back to an uncomfortable angle as she stared at me with unreadable eyes.

“Whatever I want it to,” she answered, releasing my hair and smoothing it down after. Her hand moved back to my face, her thumb swiping my cheek once before moving delicately to my neck. Soft fingertips trailed against the skin, pausing and pressing gently against my pulse, causing my pulse to hammer harder and faster at the subtle threat behind those fingers. “I’ll enrol you in servant classes. Sanguis Academy caters to all our needs, and you certainly need etiquette training. When you’re not in class, you will be with me, attending to whatever need I request.” She paused her fingers stilling and her hand softly gripping my neck. The memory of when her hand last encased my throat caused fear to spring forth within me.

She leaned awkwardly forward, her molten-silver eyes glowing, and she pressed her lips against my neck and growled low. After a moment, she inhaled deeply before speaking “Your fear adds a note to your scent that borders on the divine. Though I worry it might spoils your taste.” She hummed against me.

I tried to pull away then, fear spiking, caught in the grasp of a predator. Her hold on my neck increased and her free hand landed roughly on my shoulder, freezing me in place. “Tut, tut, tut, my little pet. Trying to run away from me isn’t very clever,” she chided, speaking softly, and pulling me closer to her until my face was pressed against her neck, and my legs straining on my knees. As she pulled me up, my hands reached forward to brace myself against the couch, my hands at either side of her thighs.

“Stop, please,” I spoke into the quiet as she breathed heavily against my ear, her hand tightening around my neck, not painfully so, but the threat was there. Every part of me wanted to run away, to pull away, but I felt half paralyzed at the same time.

“Shhh,” she hummed against me. I felt her lips part and press wetly against my skin.

She pulled me up further as she leaned back into the couch, and before I knew quite what was happening, she had lifted me, sitting me in her lap, her arms encasing my waist. From this position, I was taller than her, but it only served to give her perfect access to my neck. My hands came up to her shoulders to try and push her away. She growled low, her tongue swiping out against my neck and her hands trapping my wrists, holding them both firmly against my stomach with one of her strong hands .

I cried, words leaving me. She seemed to notice my tears as her warm tongue ran up my face tasting them. “Shhh, pet,” she almost cooed. Her eyes glowed brightly, signalling she was all vampire now, reason left behind and consumed by hunger. “It’s been a long day. I haven’t fed today, and you smell so good,” she said, running her nose from the base of my neck up to the shell of my ear where she unexpectedly bit my earlobe. Her free hand stroked my arm soothingly as she went back to nuzzling my neck. “I won’t hurt you, not really,” she whispered, taking deep breaths through her nose. “I’ll be gentle,” she promised, and then began to pepper small, almost caring kisses against my neck, stopping every so often to nip at my flesh but never actually breaking the skin.

After what felt like a long time of her gentle ministrations against my neck, my heart began to slow, and I started to calm down. Yet my skin was hot everywhere her lips and teeth and tongue touched along my neck. I tried to keep my senses. I tried remembering where I was and what was happening—but it felt good. A moan escaped the Princess’s lips as she sucked against the juncture of my neck, and I hissed in pleasure at the slight pain of my now overly sensitive flesh. And once I thought I’d lost myself completely to her touch, I felt at first just a slight nip, like the almost gentle bites of before, but this bite did not end and only grew harder and heavier.

Almost in a dream-like state, I became aware that her fangs had pierced my skin and I heard as she gulped and swallowed between her moans of pleasure. And though it was indeed painful in a way I had never experienced before, there was also my uncomprehending pleasure as the Princess of vampires drained my blood. I began to feel more disconnected from my body, a cold chill running through me. When panic began to prick the back of my mind, my eyelids had already grown heavy.