All Chapters of His Princess, Not His Blood : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“You are mine, Ella. Understand that.” His voice was a low growl, a promise and a threat. He didn’t wait for an answer, his mouth descending again, this time trailing down her jaw, tasting the faint salt of her tears. He reached her bruised cheek, his lips brushing over the tender skin, a bizarre combination of apology and assertion.His hands moved, deftly unbuttoning her blouse, his fingers brushing against her skin, sending goosebumps dancing across her flesh. She shivered, a mix of fear and arousal. He pushed the fabric from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a silken heap. Her bra followed, and her breasts, heavy and sensitive, spilled into his waiting palms. He cupped them, his thumbs circling her nipples, which instantly hardened into tight peaks.“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, a stark contrast to the harsh words of the previous night. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over one engorged nipple, suckling deeply. A gasp escaped her

A harsh laugh, devoid of humor, echoed in the confined space. “Where you belong, princess. For now.”A hand, large and calloused, brushed against her cheek, a touch that made her skin crawl. She flinched away, a desperate, futile movement.“Don’t touch me.” Her voice, though still weak, held a surprising edge of defiance.“Feisty, ain’t she?” the gruff voice mused. “James sure picked a spirited one.”James. The name, a cold shard of ice, pierced through the fog of her disorientation. This wasn’t random. This was connected to him. Her affair, the dangerous game she played, had finally caught up to her. The realization settled in her gut, a heavy, sickening weight.“What do you want?” She forced the words out, her breath catching.“That’s for the boss to say,” the higher voice retorted. “You just sit tight.”Days bled into each other, marked only by the shifting shadows beneath her blindfold and the sporadic appearances of her captors. Food, bland and unappetizing, was shoved i

When she emerged, wrapped in a plush towel, James stood by the bedroom window, his back to her, silhouetted against the city lights. He turned as she entered, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering on her bare arms, the faint bruising on her wrists.“Better?” he asked, his voice devoid of his usual commanding tone.She nodded, clutching the towel tighter. A fresh set of clothes, soft silk pajamas, lay on the bed. She dressed quickly, the fabric a comforting caress against her skin.He moved towards her, his movements slow, deliberate. “I know… I know you’re angry. And scared. I brought this on you.”His confession, so rare, so out of character, stunned her into silence. She watched him, wary, her heart still thrumming with residual fear.“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he promised, his voice a low growl. “Ever.” He reached out, his hand gently cupping her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. His touch, usually possessive, now felt almost tender, but beneath it, s

Ella pulled her arm free. The words caught in her throat, a tangled mess of fear, shame, and a nascent, terrifying understanding. She couldn’t tell Aria about James, about the way his touch had both terrified and aroused her, about the strange comfort she now found in his presence. She couldn’t tell her about the lingering shadow of her stepfather’s presence, the subtle ways he controlled her life, the way his gaze sometimes lingered a beat too long.“I just… I can’t,” Ella said, her voice cracking. She turned and fled, the sounds of Aria calling her name fading behind her as she wove through the scattering students, her vision blurred by tears. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to escape the suffocating weight of Aria’s questions, the terrifying implications of her words.She found herself, almost instinctively, walking towards the less frequented parts of campus, past the old library and towards the secluded art building, where the scent of turpentine an

"What are we doing, James?" The question burst from her, raw and desperate. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to hold her fractured self together. “Staffs are starting to notice things. The way you look at me. The way I… I look at you."He took another step, closing the distance between them. His eyes narrowed, searching hers, a depth of emotion swirling within them that she couldn't quite decipher. "And what exactly do you think they notice, Ella?""The way we are together," she insisted, her voice rising slightly. "It's not normal. It’s not how a stepfather and stepdaughter are supposed to be. I need I need a cover. Someone at school. A boyfriend." The words felt foreign on her tongue, tainted by the lie they carried.His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "A boyfriend?" The word was a harsh rasp, laden with disbelief, with something darker. "You want to parade some schoolboy around, pretending he’s yours?""It’s not pretending!" she cried, frustration b