Cathy

I pause with the croissant halfway to my lips, and stare at him.

Spit drools from my open mouth.

For once, all of the graces instilled in me since childhood, since I was brought up as the treasured dominion in the household of the Czar of Russia, desert me. But then it has been a long time since anyone has called me by my full name. The name which I’d hoped I’d left behind when I escaped from Russia.

I’d run away from the arrangement my father had in mind for me… straight into a bond with an leader who is much more fearsome.

Why is it that everywhere I turn there is always a man who wants to hold me down, collar me, bond to me, make me feel like I am secondary, only an dominion?

‘You’re not an average dominion…’ My mother’s voice echoes in my ears. ‘You are a pure-born dominion who carries in your blood the genes of the Russian royal family. The genes that guar