To The Princess Bound by Sara King

dismissive shrug.  “As for the rest…eventually, we’ll work up to it.”
    Victory could only stare.
    “Now,” Dragomir said, jingling the shackles behind his back, “Would you please take these off of me?”
    “No,” Victory said.
    He made a disgusted sound and thumped his huge body back against the headboard.  The bed shook with the impact.  “Fine,” he said.  “I’m going to sleep.”
    Victory frowned.  “What about me?”
    Without opening his eyes or turning to her, he said, “Sleep beside me or sleep on the floor or, hell, go get your Praetorian buddies to fling my huge ass outta bed and make me sleep on the rug, I don’t care.  I’m tired and irritated as all hell and my shoulders really hurt.  I dislocated them both doing something stupid when I was a kid and all the ligaments are torn and shredded and it feels like someone’s ramming stakes through my back every time I breathe.”  He heaved a huge, frustrated sigh.  “Good night.”
    Victory nervously watched his breathing settle, watching the rise and fall of his big chest until it had fallen into a slow, easy rhythm.  He began to snore, and it was obvious as his body relaxed that he had been utterly exhausted, but doing well to hide it.  Feeling a bit guilty, she cleared her throat and asked, “How did you hurt your shoulders?”

To Entertain a Princess
     
    Dragomir was dreaming of a one-eyed woman from the past, a torrid love affair many lifetimes ago, when he heard someone speak.  He opened his eyes blearily.  For a moment, he thought he was back in his home, having fallen asleep in his chair.  Then he saw the gauzy purple curtains, the roaring fireplace, the black marble walls and ceiling.  His heart sank when he felt the strain in his shoulders, the cold steel around his wrists and ankles.  He turned his head, searching for his captor.
    It took him a moment to locate her—he hadn’t been allowed much sleep in the last five days—and when he did, he found it difficult to focus.  “Huh?” he asked, more a grunt than a word.  His exhaustion was definitely catching up with him. 
    She cleared her throat and said, more loudly, “How did you dislocate your shoulders?”
    He gave her a long, mouth-open look.  Was she closer than she had been before?
    She touched his shoulder.  “You said you dislocated it?”
    He looked down at the crest of his arm, then grunted again.  He licked the drool out of the corner of his mouth.  “Someone bet me I couldn’t jump off a tree-fort and catch myself holding the climbing-rope behind my back.  Think I was like eight, and pretty sure I was invincible.  Wrapped it around my fingers real good, then jumped.”
    She winced at him.  “Sounds like it hurt.”
    “Not as much as hanging there did, once my shoulders came out.”  He yawned.  “Got caught around my wrists.  Couldn’t make my fingers work to unwrap themselves.  They had to cut me down.”
    She grinned at him, and Dragomir actually forgot how tired he was.  She was beautiful. Alabaster skin, freckles, green eyes, and the most raven-black hair he’d ever seen on a woman.
    “Sounds like something my brother would do,” she said, beaming.  “He was always doing stupid things like that.”
    Dragomir gave an indignant grunt.  “I said I was invincible, not stupid.”
    She peered at him like he was a poor, flattened bug on the sidewalk.  “That sounded pretty stupid to me.”
    Dragomir sighed.  “Maybe a little.  Taught me something, though.”
    She cocked his head at him in curiosity.  “What’s that?”
    “Taught me not to jump off a tree and catch yourself with a rope behind your back, that’s what.”  He grunted, wishing he could ease the strain in his shoulders.  “Uh, miss, is there anything I can do to assure you I’m just a harmless, six-foot-seven poodle?”
    She raised both eyebrows.  “Poodle?”
    “Poodles are funny, not ferocious.”  He grinned weakly.  “I think of myself as