Free Princess by Sapphire Knight Page B

for my corset, I land on a new package of wife beater tank tops. Those will be much more comfortable than attempting to squish my tits back into my top from last night.
    I hated wearing it. Damn thing squished me like crazy, but it was all about the look. Ruger had told me that Viking would for sure be at the bar last night, and I wanted any advantage I could think of to get his attention. I would never have returned to that place had I not known Viking was there along with Bethany, just in case I needed help again. I hate to ever feel dependent on someone like that, but I learned my lesson the first time, going outside alone, barely two nights ago. My arms and back still have the stupid scrapes to remind me of my bad judgment call.
    Throwing a tank on, I practically drown in it, so I tie it up at my mid-back, leaving a sliver of skin on my belly visible. I’m probably looking like a hot mess, but I couldn’t care less. I’m making a point to this bossy biker, that he doesn’t give me orders outside the bedroom.
    Shit fuck. I like him being such a demanding ass. It’s sexy to meet someone who’s so damn Alpha; at times I worry my panties will catch fire being around him. Oh wait, I’m not wearing panties. Regardless, he doesn’t need to speak to me like that in front of so many men.
    Viking had been sweet enough to retrieve my purse from my trunk last night about halfway through our activities, so I snatch that up. Quickly, I shove my corset top inside the oversized bag that should most likely be classified as luggage rather than a purse. Tossing my shoes in also, which Viking admitted he’s a bit obsessed with, I shoulder the wide strap and head back outside, ready to leave.
    Bethany’s standing next to Nightmare, this time, clad in his T-shirt and boxers with hair shooting every which way like she just climbed out of bed as well. I wonder if she got to hook up with him after all. When we went home to change she confessed that she was interested in him.
    What’s it with these grouchy fucking bikers that pull you to them? Nightmare seems broody and miserable, but she’s still fascinated with him. Who am I to talk though? Viking could be classified as a quiet asshole, yet he has me twisted all over the place for him.
    Nose and chin up, I use a dose of fake confidence strutting past the men and call back, “Come on, Bethany, we’re out of here.” Since I’m not in my high shoes and the gravel doesn’t bother my bare feet too badly, I put a little extra swing in my hips making a few of the guys’ mouths pop open.
    Viking lets loose a frustrated growl, and it takes everything in me not to shoot him a smug smile in defiance. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demands, but I ignore him.
    “I’m coming! Let me grab my stuff,” Bethany answers and runs back into Nightmare’s room.
    “ Princess !” he shouts. His voice is strong and lethal with a warning ingrained in my name, just by his tone.
    Turning to him and propping my hand on my hip, I give him ‘the look,’ “What?”
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “I’m leaving.”
    “I’m not done with you.”
    Shrugging, I don’t get a chance to respond as Bethany comes running out, yelling that she’s ready.
    “Fine. I’ll call you.” He plays it off.
    “Sure you will,” I retort, knowing damn well that he doesn’t have my number. He didn’t get it last night and I damn sure didn’t leave it for him.
    Bethany and I trek toward the two-lane highway, the guys loud enough I can still easily overhear their conversation.
    “Her name’s Princess? Or you call her that?” Cain questions Viking.
    “It’s her fucking name. I call her Cinderella. What’s it to you?”
    I try to do a sly glance back, but catch Cain openly staring at me, as if he saw a ghost. I don’t think twice about it, though; there’s no way he knows who I am.
    “Definitely, bring your Ol’ Ladies with you to the barbecue,” I catch him saying right before