DIRTY BLOOD | TR ✔︎

sneak peek: Blood Red Ink

Not every princess story starts with a 'once upon a time' and not all princess stories end with a 'and they lived happily ever after.'

I learned that through Lorenzo Berkshire, my best friend since childhood, my accidental one-night-stand, my friends with benefits.

The love of my life.

But why should we start at the end of the story when there's a beginning?

It all started six months ago at a muggle house party. Rich muggles with teenage kids who don't realize their actions reflect on their parents. They throw parties with alcohol and drugs, whichever ones they can get their hands on.

Enzo knows anyone and everyone, which is why I'm not surprised he can get us in and out of parties all the time.

And when we go, he always stays sober. He's my designated bodyguard. He follows me anywhere and everywhere, fulfilling a promise that he made to my father.

I zone back into my surroundings, quickly spotting Enzo standing at the kitchen island, his eyes on me and my every movement.

I wear a leather skirt, which I tug down as it hikes up my thighs. An upside down piece of fabric covers my chest, tied in place by thin strings of fabric.

I make my way over to him, holding a shot towards him. He immediately shakes his head and I pout my bottom lip.

"I have to bring you home tonight." He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Enz, you take me home every night." I grumble, huffing in frustration. "You've already got so much going on and I just want you to let go, just for tonight. Please?"

He stares at me and I know he's debating on giving in. "But how am I supposed to get you home?"

"We'll call a taxi. I'll pay." I tell him, nodding my head with my words.

He presses his lips into a thin line, taking in our surroundings.

A bunch of inebriated teenagers jump around to hip-hop music. None of them care that they're in the presence of Bulgarian royalty, they're too high on life and whatever chemicals in their systems.

"Fine." Enzo grumbles and I return to reality as he snatches the shot glass from my hands.

I watch intently as he brings the drink to his lips, throwing his head back and swallowing it in one go. His lips glisten with the liquor and, maybe it's my drunken state, but my eyes are glued to his lips for a moment too long.

They start to curve into a smile and I force myself to look away, ignoring the burning of my cheeks. I focus on the design of the floor. Black and white tiles, a stereotypical Italian kitchen.

"Anna?" He asks softly, tilting his head. "You alright?"

I nod. "Perfect."

"Really? Because you're looking at the floor like it just told you a secret code and you have to decipher it." He retorts.

I scoff and roll my eyes, lifting my chin to look at him. And, fuck, I hate tequila.

"Do you want to do something fun?" I ask him, my speech surprisingly good for the level of intoxication I'm currently experiencing.