“Look at us—sitting outside on the patio, both of us sipping our lemonade. Pretty damn American if you ask me.”
She laughed. “It’s nice. And it’s impossible to be here in America without thinking of other American things, too.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like freedom.”
I laughed. “Princess, you keep talking like that and you’re going to summon a bald eagle.”
She matched my laugh with one of her own.
“I know it sounds corny. But it’s true! Being a princess is nice—I’m not going to pretend that I don’t live a charmed life. All the same, I can’t help but wonder what I would do with freedom, the ability to do what I want without a whole palace breathing down my neck.”
I sipped my lemonade. It was sweet and just tart enough to hit the spot.
“How is it?” she asked.
“No Irn-Bru, but not bad all.”
She laughed, giving me a small shove with the side of her leg.
“Seriously, though,” I said. “If you could do anything, what would it be if you had the chance?”
She pursed her lips, her expression serious. “I know exactly what I’d do, I’d help people.”
“Aye?”
“Yes. Candara is a wonderful country, and we’re all very lucky to live the way we do. But so many other places in Europe…they’re not so lucky. There’s so much poverty, so many people living day-to-day. I want to help them.”
She went on. “But I’m going to need the freedom to do it. And I won’t get it unless I go back and tell my father and brother that the days of me being some little doll they can lock in my bedroom are over.”
There was a fire in her eyes, passion in her voice as she spoke.
It was a huge turn on.
“I’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like to make my own decisions,” she said. “And there’s not a chance in hell I’m going back.”
I nodded. “You can do it, Princess. You ask me, I think it’s time to take what’s yours, to live the life you’ve been dreaming of.”
She turned to me and smiled. Then, without another word, she rested her head on my shoulder. It felt damn good, and I couldn’t resist wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close.
There was danger ahead. But in that moment, everything was good.
29
KID
I’d just finished a walk on the treadmill, the first exercise I’d been capable of since the injury, and I was ready for a shower.
First, I had to take off the damn bandage.
I was seated on the edge of the sink, dressed in nothing but the boxer briefs I’d had on. The mirror was angled so that I had a good look around me. I started with a small pair of scissors, snipping the bandage away slowly. Once that was done, I began gently peeling off the white gauze.
It took time and stung more than a little, but I was able to eventually get it off to see the wound underneath. It looked…not too bad. There was very little redness, and the stitches were holding. I poked around the wound, feeling a bit of pain, but not too much. A gunshot was a gunshot, and you didn’t heal from them quickly no matter how clean the wound and dressing. All the same, I was well on my way to getting back to normal.
When I was ready, I hopped off the sink and pulled down my underwear, my cock hanging down between my legs. I stepped over to the shower and turned it on, allowing the water to get lukewarm before stepping in.
It felt nice. Few things hit like a shower after a workout, gunshot wound or no.