Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

  Absently, I finger the tiara that I'm wearing. I won it at the latest beauty pageant.

  I mean, come on. I am the fairest of them all. That much is undeniable. I work out. I do CrossFit. I do yoga. Pilates.

  I know my butt looks good. I eat right. I've had music lessons, singing lessons, history lessons, and all manner of other lessons.

  Sure, I used to get around back when I was younger. My wild child days. Go out at night. Party like it was the end of the world. But even though those days are behind me, when I was in University, I think I got some lessons out of those as well. Like the proper way to suck a cock. The best way to squeeze your pussy as some dude is about to come to make him just go insane. How to deep throat. The lessons that you don't get royal tutors for, you know?

  Yeah, I'm not some little damsel in distress.

  I mean, I am a damsel. But I'm not innocent and pure. I believe that women should be allowed to do whatever men do. I know Prince Gladrell disagrees with me on that, but he's going to have to get used to the fact that I'm not a cute little virgin. He's going to be marrying an experienced pleasure seeker.

  Thinking about pleasure makes me think of Gladrell. How I can't wait till our wedding night, if the Queen still allows it to happen, and how I want his face in between my legs.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some woman totally in love with Gladrell. I barely know him. Instead, I know of him. And he’s all I’ve ever been told that I’d end up with, since we were kids. So every fantasy I’ve had, I’ve projected on him.

  Just thinking about the Prince’s face between my thighs has me all hot and even though I know that with everything with dad and the Kingdom going bad, I can't help myself. I need a way to get my mind off things.

  My hands go down my body and under my dress. I'm imagining him touching me. I close my eyes and sigh.

  Maybe it's time for some me time. I'm stressed. And I do need to relax.

  But I can't get any further than that because right that moment my door bursts open.

  I look over in alarm but who should be standing there but Prince Simon Gladrell himself.

  It's like some sort of weird sexual miracle and my alarm quickly relents to my lust. I give him a lascivious smile. Even though we've never actually fucked, I'm wondering if he wants to right now.

  But I don't even get a chance to say anything because the first words out of his mouth are, "Come with me, Snow, if you want to live."

  Well, that's not sexy. I mean it's not sexy in a let me spread my legs kind of way.

  "Moira is sending soldiers for you," Gladrell says as he takes me by the arm and I find myself following him. "She's going to imprison you to get you out of the public eye."

  That's rather sudden and pretty quick. Moira wouldn't touch me that quickly, would she?

  Gladrell seems to recognize the question going through my head.

  "She wants to get it all done in one fell swoop," he says to me as he looks me up and down. He doesn't register any sort of desire. Rather, it's mechanical. "She doesn't want any loose ends."

  So, that's what I am now?

  A loose end?

  We're walking down the castle at a fast clip and I don't know what I'm going to do once we get outside. I usually have an escort or at least a Royal bodyguard.

  "I need to pack," I begin but he doesn't let me finish.

  "There's no time," he says sharply as he turns a corner and then another. I hear voices far away and the clanking of boots. The soldiers are coming. "We need you out of the castle and into the woods and into town as quickly as possible. Head through the Lost Wood toward town. Two of my men will find you and take you to safety."

  "How will they find me?" I ask. I'm genuinely curious how two men are going to find me in the middle of a dark forest at night.

  "Don't worry about that," he says. "They know to look out for you."

  Bullshit.

  The look on my face says it all and Gladrell sighs as he stands by the side exit from the cellar where we've ended up.

  "Listen," he says slower and with more emotion. "It's safer for you out there where people know who you are than in here where no one can see you. You need to get out of the fucking castle."

  I look in his eyes. I trust him. He wants what's best for me. So I nod and he sighs in relief and opens the door.

  I head out into an empty alley that leads straight to the Lost Wood.

  It's chilly and I only have the clothes on my back.

  But there I go. By myself. Princess Snow Avondale, otherwise known as "Snow White." Headed to someplace I don't know where.

  I need the company, babe. Won't you please come along?

  Richard

  The Lost Wood is an unnerving place at night. Legend has it that hundreds of men have been lost and never recovered from the bowels of this place.

  Even on bright afternoons, the trees are so dense that they choke out most sunlight before it has a chance to reach the forest floor, and in that dappled shade, thick, green moss coats every tree trunk and branch, making it look as if the entire forest was populated by grotesque and greedy goblins.

  But for me, this forest is a second home.

  "Did you hear that?" Lucien asks.

  He stops sucking on his cigarette, and in the darkness, I watch as the cherry glows orange, burning its way down to his knuckle.

  "Don't tell me these woods are getting to your head?"

  He's silent for a moment, wondering if he's indeed going bat-shit crazy, and then his body tenses. "There it is again. Over there."

  I watch as Lucien twists his shoulders, trying to face the noise. But the only noise I hear is the wind brushing past leaves.

  We've been keeping watch in the Lost Wood for years, and tonight of all nights, Lucien decides to grow jumpy on me.

  I look down at my watch.

  9:37 pm.

  Where is she? She's late.

  Another gust of wind blows past Lucien and I, and I shove my hands into my coat pockets, bracing myself against the cold. I stamp my boots on the ground, in an effort to keep my feet warm.

  Just then, I hear a flock of birds flee from a nearby tree.

  Birds don't do that without provocation.

  "Shhh," I say, turning to Lucien and holding a finger to my lips. "I think you're right. We aren't alone tonight."

  "Now you believe me," he smiles, in a way that says I told you so. He throws the remainder of his cigarette down to the ground and snuffs it out with his boot.

  I watch as a thin wisp of blue smoke curls around his heel.

  Lucien and I step off the trail and crouch behind a boulder. I'll be damned if I let one of Queen Moira's soldiers ambush us.

  Not here. Not on my watch.

  Our bodies grow tense as we hear a burst of noise. It's a person running at full speed through the forest.

  But it's not a soldier.

  It's a woman.

  And it's not everyday that you see a beautiful woman in the Lost Wood.

  Twigs are snapping under her feet. Her dress is torn and she's breathing heavy. Her arms are swinging wildly, and there are dry leaves stuck at odd angles in her hair.

  I jump out from behind the boulder and grab her in my arms.

  "Let me go! Let me go!" she screams, pounding my shoulders with her balled fists. She's thrashing and kicking my shins, doing everything in her power to flee from me. Her panic is palpable.

  "It's OK, shhh, shhh," I say. "I'm here to help you. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

  I try to calm her down, but she isn't listening. Fear has overtaken her. She's struggling in my arms and I can't help but watch the way her breasts rise and fall beneath her ragged breathing. She's underdressed for this weather. It looks as if she had to leave in a hurry and couldn't grab a coat.

  Her dress is short and as she struggles in my arms, the fabric hikes up to her hips. My eyes fall on her soft, exposed thighs.

  Clearly, my cock notices this too because I feel it give a quick tw
itch in my pants.

  "Calm down," I whisper, and now Lucien is standing next to me, trying to soothe her as well.

  "If she keeps this up, every soldier in a 10-mile radius will know where we are," Lucien says.

  "Everything is fine," I say. "We aren't going to hurt you."

  "We've been sent by Prince Gladrell," I continue, and this seems to work. She calms down, and stares at us with eyes that flash the color of a perfect spring sky.

  Prince Gladrell never told us how fucking beautiful Snow is.

  Those breasts. That heart-shaped ass.

  This whole damsel-in-distress scenario is making my cock grow harder by the minute, and by the look on Lucien's face, I'm guessing he's also stiffer than a new pair of leather boots.

  "Here, take this," I say, removing my coat and draping it over her shoulders.

  "You know Prince Gladrell?" she asks, looking at us both, wondering whether or not she can trust us.

  "Yes, and we also know your father. I'm Richard," I say, extending her my hand. "And this is Lucien."

  Lucien gives her the hint of a smile and extends his hand as well. She shakes it, but I can still see the skepticism etched onto her face.

  "We're Freedom Fighters," I say. "Your father, King Guy Avondale is a friend of ours. And what's happened to him is a shame."

  Snow nods her head. "I want my father back in St. Carlta. Moira won't get away with this."

  "And that's why we've pledged our loyalty to Prince Gladrell," I say. "As Freedom Fighters, we're here to help bring democracy to St. Carlta and restore King Avondale to power."

  The tension in Snow's body seems to dissipate as she takes this all in, and I watch as she wipes a tear from her eye. "Thank you," she says, just above a whisper. She seems relieved. "I never thought I'd be running for my life."

  "Neither did all of us," Lucien says.

  "All of you?" Snow asks. "Are there more of you?"

  As she says this, the rustle of leaves can be heard in the near distance and the soft crackle of boots stepping on dry branches truncates the silence.

  Then, Snow sucks in a sharp breath and she turns to see five other men emerge from the forest.

  "Yes, all of us," I smile. "We are the Seven Freedom Fighters, and we're here to protect you Princess Snow."

  Derek

  "If I'm being totally honest, I'd fuck that ass—right here, and right now. I mean, look at it."

  "You're kidding, right?" Nicholas says, shaking his head. "Show some respect man. This is the Princess you're talking about."

  "Pfft, whatever," I say, because even I know he's just being a pussy. He knows he'd like to fuck that ass as much as I would, but he's too much of a coward to admit it. Nick's always been the good guy of the bunch. He's every mom's wet dream.

  He's the guy every mother wants her daughter to marry.

  He says things like "yes, ma'am" while tipping his fucking hat.

  He'll open a woman's door, pull her seat out for her, and pay her tab, even when he knows he doesn't have a fucking chance with her.

  He's fucking chivalry reincarnate.

  Don't get me wrong. That's good and all, but if I could give him one piece of advice, it'd be to grow a fucking pair of balls every once in awhile.

  Sometimes, women want a guy who can fucking take charge.

  "Seriously, look at her," I say, motioning toward Snow. We've been walking through the forest, back to our camp, and the whole fucking time, my eyes have been glued to her ass. Even in the darkness, it's lighting my path like a full moon.

  "Is that ass not perfection, or what? Now that's one perfect peach I can sink my mouth into."

  I can't help but undress her with my eyes. I can imagine slapping a hand against each cheek and taking her from behind.

  Nicholas stops walking for a minute and turns to me. "Are you forgetting why we're here?"

  "Spare me, Nick," I say, rolling my eyes. "I get it. We're Freedom Fighters. We're here to save St. Carlta, blah, blah, blah."

  "You think this is a joke, Derek?" Nick says, pointing one finger at me in an accusatory way. "This is serious. Pull your head out of the gutter. This is bigger than you, me, or even the whole Avondale family. And this is definitely bigger than the needs of that cock of yours."

  I shake my head. "Since when did you get so serious?"

  Nick and I start walking again, and he continues to drone on and on about the high and mighty role we're playing here—and I get it, I really do—but c'mon, there's a hot woman in my line of sight, and his words are going in one ear and missing my brain completely. Can't Nick lay off me for a fucking minute?

  "Here we are," Richard says, showing Snow the camp. It’s a stopping off point till we reach the fortress and it’s a simple affair. She doesn't seem too impressed at first—it isn't the fucking castle—but given the alternative, she'll take it.

  I watch as Richard offers her a drink, and she sits down.

  "Thank you," she says, and she looks up at all seven of us, thanking us each with her eyes. "Without you...well, I don't know what would've happened to me by now."

  "It's an honor, Snow," Richard says. "As we said before, we're here to help. We all want to see the King's power restored."

  "The current political climate isn't good," she continues, pushing a strand of her raven-black hair behind one ear. "Things are going downhill fast. Moira had this all planned. I just wish I could've done something sooner...before she screwed my father over like she did. Maybe if I would've skipped a few Pilates classes or something..."

  "You can't blame yourself. She won't get away with this," Lucien says, nodding sympathetically. "We won't let her."

  "I appreciate that," Snow says, "but I don't think you guys know how bad things have gotten. It's bad enough that Moira's had my father removed from power, but now the Queen has seized control of all the Royal bases, and what's worse is that she's having all media censored...TV, newspapers...even Internet media sites."

  I instinctively touch the cell phone in my pocket when she says this and someone asks, "What about social media?"

  "That too," she says, looking down into her cup. "You can't even check Facebook anymore. Access to those sites has been blocked. She's too paranoid to let anyone see what's really going on. But people are scared. They aren't stupid. They can feel their freedoms slowly being ripped away, and it's creating fear. A lot of fear. People are staying in their homes instead of going outside. Businesses are shutting down. I don't know what's going to happen if the Queen stays in power...but it won't be good."

  A tear zigzags down her cheek and Lucien hands her a napkin. She thanks him, and dabs it underneath her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. Then she stands up, and as she does, the napkin falls.

  I watch it flutter to the ground, and as soon as Snow notices, she bends down to pick it up, giving Nick and I a clear view of her incredible ass.

  Even Nick can't look away this time, and I give him a smile, nudging him with my elbow.

  He shakes his head, as if it's an Etch-a-Sketch and he's trying to clear his mind of the image. "Almighty God, wow," he whistles under his breath, half to himself.

  "I told you," I say laughing. "Pretty great, right?"

  "She's more than great," Nick says. "She's perfect."

  I nod in agreement.

  Having Princess Snow in our midst should be interesting...

  Malcolm

  On one hand, I'm surprised our hideout has never been found. Given its close proximity to town, it's a wonder no one has stumbled onto us. Some days, I can even hear the nearby traffic of planes and trucks. But on the other hand, the Lost Wood isn't an easy place to navigate. This forest is thicker than a refrigerated jar of molasses...and that's being generous.

  Good luck to anyone who dares to traverse these trails.

  As our group approaches the clearing, our fortress comes into view. It's a large bunker, and while it may not look like much from the outside, most people are impressed when they step inside. It's
amazing what we've amassed. We have enough provisions to last years holed up in this place.

  And looks are deceiving. It's much bigger than it looks from the outside.

  William walks out of the bunker holding a clipboard and a pen.

  He's always been the serious and organized one of the group, which probably explains why we made him the administrator.

  With his deep-set eyes and chiseled jaw, he plays the role perfectly.

  "Welcome to our camp, Snow," he says, ushering her inside of the bunker. We all follow through the doors and shut it behind us.

  I see he's really turning on the charm for her.

  "In case you don't know, our group's mission is to overthrow Queen Moira, bring freedom back to St. Carlta, and bring back democracy and the King."

  His voice seems to echo off the concrete bunker walls.

  Snow's listening, but she still seems skeptical. There's clearly a part of her that's still in disbelief, and I guess I don't blame her.

  "Lofty goals, but given what we're up against, do you really think it's possible?" Snow asks. "Queen Moira has the entire country on lockdown. People suspect something isn't right, but she's making sure to keep them in the dark as much as possible. What they're seeing in the news is no longer a true representation of what's really happening in the country."

  "Princess," William says, "not only is this possible, but it's a given. We're called Freedom Fighters for a reason, and we won't stop until the King's power is restored. That much, we promise. We take this promise seriously."

  Snow seems to take these words in as she looks around at each of us, and I can see her faith in our mission restored. Her body is less tense, and she seems to visibly relax on some level.

  "I trust you...all of you," she says, her eyes ablaze in hope.

  I can't help but notice how each man is looking at Snow. Now that I think of it, I don't believe we've ever had a woman in this bunker before...and definitely not a woman as beautiful as the Princess. Despite her torn dress and disheveled hair, I don't think I've ever seen a woman quite as beautiful as her.

  Just having her standing here, in front of us, is making each man experience a new kind of hunger. And I can guarantee that every man in here is stiff with want, whether he'd like to admit it or not.