A knock drew him from his day dreams and back to the present. He grabbed a robe, which was haphazardly thrown over a chair, and tugged it on. He stalked to the door and threw it open, not surprised to see his attendant Marshalls. Marshalls was thirty-two, and a couple of inches shorter than Demir, but still towered over most men. He had thick black hair with the beginnings of gray streaking through, a straight nose and a straight mouth, which gave a no nonsense appearance. His back was unbending, and his smart black uniform suit was impeccable. Everything in its place; no wayward strings.
Demir turned away from the door and Marshalls, stalking to the bathroom to take a shower, the chiming of the eight o’clock bells making him aware of the hour as he did so. He took a quick shower, thinking about his new school, which his parents had enrolled him in.
Having grown accustomed to the best tutors, it had come as a shock to him when his parents had announced he would be going to one of the best junior private college in the country, with other young adults! He was only nineteen, as his mother had continuously reminded him, and he had to do some semi-normal teenage things. Such as school and social events like mall shopping and basketball playing.
Demir stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel of a warming wrack. Haphazardly tying it around his waist, the towel dipping dangerously, Demir grabbed another towel, proceeding to dry off his hair. He exited the bathroom, not surprised to see his school uniform laying out on the bed, and Marshalls tiding up the room.
Demir eyed the articles of clothing doubtfully, expecting them to grow wings and fly out his French doors, across the patio, and burn up in flame. No such luck, they remained there, mocking him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Marshalls opened the door, preparing to exit. “The town car will be waiting out front for you. Please see to it that you dress promptly, and are down stairs within ten minutes. I would hate for you to be late on your first day.” Marshalls said quickly, professionally, before he closed the door.
The car ride to his new school was a quiet ride, mainly due the prince himself. Demir couldn’t seem to get the red haired siren out of his mind. She was beautiful! He thought. Sexy and curvaceous, she had carved a nice warm place for herself in his memory. “Sir, who is beautiful?” Marshalls asked sitting opposite him in the London town car Demir’s father had imported.
“The red haired siren I met yesterday. Marshalls! I can’t seem to get her out of my mind!” Demir said, flinging his arm across his eyes, as though the siren was in front of him instead of Marshalls. Marshalls frowned, recalling what they had done yesterday. No where in his memory had they gone out, and no red haired woman had come to the castle yesterday. What could the Prince be talking about! His frown deepened, as he feared the worst. “Sir you didn’t?!” His outraged tone had Demir removing his arm from over his eyes.
“Didn’t what?” Demir asked, staring at him as if he had grown a second head.
Marshalls cleared his throat loudly, and took a deep, shaky breath in. “Please tell me you did not sneak out of the castle again!”
Demir’s eyes darted to the side, before he said “No”.
A complete lie, Marshalls knew. A tell tale sign of the prince lying was when his eyes wavered. “That’s a lie!” Marshalls said before continuing with the inevitable lecture that was to come. “You are a Prince! You cannot simply sneak out of your room and endanger you life! You have responsibilities, and what if…” Marshalls continued, but Demir had already checked out, he had heard this speech more times than he liked to count, and had no desire to hear it again.
Demir knew he had responsibilities damn it! But he also had a life. He wanted to live, not be cooped up with his responsibilities all day. Demir was brought back from his musings with the sharp retort. “Who is this woman, this red haired siren that has you in such a fog?” Curiosity coupled with impatience infused Marshalls tone. He looked at the Prince, flabbergasted by what he saw. Distraction! He was distracted and not just a little, but a great deal! The prince looked at the older man and said with such clarity, there was no mistaking his words. “She’s the woman I’m going to marry.”
Even as Demir said the words, he wondered where they came from. Marry? Hell would freeze over before he did that! Have a whole lot of sex with the siren? Hell yeah! But marriage? No. Marriage wasn’t even on his radar, they weren’t in the same country; they weren’t in the same world. Marriage was for old people, not him! But as the words were out he felt no compulsion to bring them back in. Because he knew he meant them, deep in his heart he knew he wanted to marry his red haired siren.
“What’s her name?” Marshalls asked the prince. Demir’s mind went back to the previous night, trying to recall her name. He didn’t know her name? How was that? How had that detail slipped his mind! He knew every inch of her luscious body. He knew what sounds she made when she experienced pleasure, and the sounds from experiencing pain. He still remembered her crying out as he had pierced her hymen. She had been virgin; the knowledge had nearly made him spill himself right then and there, barley in her!
But he had held still, even though he had wanted to do as he had promised and fuck her senseless, he waited, gave her time to adjust, which had been torture. Only the bone deep need that she be comfortable and find her pleasure before him had kept him from putting her ankles on his shoulders and thrusting into her like there was no tomorrow. As Demir’s mind wandered, so did his hand, venturing down south, and stroking himself into arousal.
“Ahem! Please stop that. What’s her name?” Marshalls asked more curious than ever about the woman.
He was astonished, struck dumb! Oh all the things he expected to hear those words were not even in his top billion. What had happened last night to cause such a drastic change in the prince’s life, Marshalls wondered. He saw the prince mull over it, his brows furrowed his lips thinned, and he had his answer. It was written as clear as day on the princes face! “You don’t know her name!” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact, and the grumbled response confirmed it.
The car was silent the rest of the way, the two men thinking about the nameless red haired siren. ____________________________________________________
“You’re late Miss Phillips! Why is that?” Miss Mallory asked as Jozlyn stumbled into class two minutes late, hands on her knees, head bowed, gulping in air. She raised her head incrementally, looking at her professor. The room took a sudden turn and stared spinning of its own accord. Her face paled and the professor noticed her sudden state of distress.
“Jozlyn are you alright?” Miss Mallory said, worry and anxiousness coloring her tone.
Jozlyn fell to her knees, her ears ringing, stomach turning, eyes tearing up, and her head spinning. She felt a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. Miss Mallory’s face flooded Jozlyn’s blurry vision, worry etched in every line of her face. “Hang in their Jozlyn.” Miss Mallory said vehemently, close to her ear, while Jozlyn continued gulping in air.
“Someone go get the nurse!” Miss Mallory yelled to the general class. Jozlyn heard chairs sliding, and the rush of many voices and feet, but she was too preoccupied with not fainting to really take everything in. Her brain slammed up against her skull, banging like a drum, and tears began to stream down her face. Another voice coupled with Miss Mallory’s gave soothing encouragements, things like “breath” and “that a girl”. Slowly the room stopped spinning, her eyes still hurt and her head ached but the room was starting to look horizontal.
The nurse, Mrs. Brocklyn, showed up not a second later, her cheeks slightly flushed and her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” She knelt before Jozlyn, feeling her head, bombarding her with twenty questions, only five of which she answered. The nurses’ expression cleared, and a smile touched the corners of her mouth. “You’re probably dehydrated as well as hungry. Hey, can someone help me get her to the nurses’ office?” Mrs. Brocklyn addressed the class,
Kayla, Jozlyn’s best friend who had been kneeling next to her, offered to help her to the nurses’ office. Today was going to be a long day, Jozlyn thought before promptly turning her head to the left and gagging. __________________________________________
