by Madison Faye
I wondered for a second if I really was that thankful before I mentally chastised myself.
Of course I was.
This night was going from bad to worse. First, this whole mess. Then, we’d arrived, and my younger sister, Isla, had immediately been pulled out onto the dance floor by Prince Logan Anders, of Torsund — a man with a reputation about as terrible as Magnus’s. Prince Logan — if you believed the rumors — was cursed. But whether you believed nonsense like that or not, you only had to look in the tabloids to see the way the once charming, upbeat, heartthrob of a prince had turned into, well, what they called him now.
The beast.
So, great. My secret shame was undressing me with his eyes from across the ballroom, my younger sister was off being eaten or whatever by Prince Logan the beast, and here I was, just wishing I could get through this night.
“Evening, Princess.”
That voice.
My eyes snapped up from their gaze at the floor to see him standing right in front of me, that damn smirk on his face, those blue eyes flashing fire.
“Prince Magnus,” I said curtly.
“My close friends call me Magnum, actually,” he purred, moving closer to me — way too close, as if we were at some pick-up bar and not a royal function at my father’s palace. I moved back, only to find the ballroom wall at my back.
Damnit.
“I’ll have to remember that,” I said icily. “Magnus,” I added, pointedly.
Ilana coughed beside us, clearing , or at least trying to clear the tension between us.
“Do you two, um—”
“Nope,” I said quickly.
Crap, too quickly. I felt my oldest sister’s eyes on me. Yep, I’d be getting interrogated on that one later.
“Are you sure?” he said with that damn grin on his face. “You do look awfully familiar. I feel like we’ve met somewhere.”
“I doubt that, and I look familiar because you know my father.”
“No, no, that’s not it,” he said with this big elaborately mimed thinking face. “No, I think it was… hmm, where was it that we met?”
“No where,” I said icily.
Ilana cleared her throat again. “So, I’m going to go get some, uh, punch or something.”
Yeah, I wasn’t hiding my disdain for Magnus or the awkwardness of this meet in the slightest bit, and she’d caught on.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Actually,” his hand shot out, grabbing my bare arm. I shivered at the sudden electric shock that traveled right through my body. It centered on that touch and fizzled through every single inch of me. I whirled back at him, my breath catching as those stunning blue eyes caught mine.
“I’d love a dance.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
Magnus grinned. “It is a ball, right?”
““It is, but I’d rather—”
“Oh, go dance,” Ilana nudged me.
I glared daggers at her that said “I’ll kill you later,” but she either didn’t catch it or ignored it.
“Chester will be here soon, and—”
I gasped as I suddenly felt Magnus just pull me away, marching us towards the dance floor.
“Get your hands off of— oh!”
I gasped as he suddenly spun me, and before I knew it, his arm was around my waist and pulling me right against him. I gasped again as my palms hit his thickly muscled chest through his tuxedo, my eyes going wide as they flicked up to his.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I almost shrieked as he suddenly spun us and dipped me low. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt a tingling sensation flicker through parts of my body it shouldn’t have.
“Dancing,” he growled, yanking me back up, his lips by my ear. “That is what people do at a ball, right?”
“Some people, maybe, not us,” I hissed back.
“I beg to differ.” He chuckled, spinning me and dipping me once again, grinning as I flushed and gasped again.
“You do that a lot.”
“What?”
“Act scandalized.”
“You are scandalizing. You’re scandal personified, if the tabloids are to be believed,” I said icily.
“And are they? To be believed? Can't trust everything you read, Princess.”
I instantly flushed, thinking about the enormous appendage thrusting up from his body lying in my bed back at the hotel. Apparently, you could believe some things in the tabloids.
“What are you doing here,” I muttered, trying to swallow the heat from my face.
“Looking for a bride. A soulmate,” he said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “Please, you?”
“Yep.”
He said it flatly, without a hint of sarcasm, and I bit my lip as my eyes narrowed at him.
“What are you really doing here?”
“Honestly?”
“I asked.”
“I came here because I had to. Because it was expected of me,” he said quietly, turning us in time to the string quartet in the corner of the ballroom. “And then I found Claire.”
I blushed.
“And here’s the thing, Princess,” he growled, suddenly pulling me tight against him and making my pulse skip a beat.
“I’ve been thinking about Claire for four solid weeks now. In fact, I can’t think of anything else. Or anyone else. She consumes me,” he growled. “She’s taken over my mind.”
“Pity she doesn’t exist,” I said flatly. “She’s not real.”
“I beg to differ.”
I gasped as I felt his hand grab my ass — right there on the dance floor.
“I think she’s very real.”
I gasped, jerking away from him and knocking his hand away.
“Are you insane?”
He smirked. “Maybe?”
“You do not touch a princess like that!”
“Oh, so you’re not Claire D’Claire?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I suppose I could ask your father why you use that name when you stop by Ibiza.”
I quickly shook my head, and he grinned at my paling face.
“Oh now, what’s this?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me guess, fake name means Daddy didn’t know you were there?”
I blushed.
“Naughty little girl,” he purred.
Heat bloomed between my legs at his words, and I quickly took a breath of air as I stepped away from him.
“We have to stop dancing now.”
“They’re still playing.”
“Well, I’m waiting for someone.”
I saw his eyes flash fire. “Who,” he growled, as if this was offending him.
“My boyfriend.”
His jaw tightened. “Boyfriend.”
I nodded, swallowing and hoping the lie wasn’t so obvious on my face. Chester was not my boyfriend, at all. We’d only spoken once or twice, actually, and in large formal functions.
I didn’t even know why I said it.
“Who,” Magnus growled.
I chewed my lip. “Prince Chester, of—”
Magnus laughed, loudly.
“Montagne?” He chuckled.
I scowled at him. “Yes.”
“His name rhymes with molester.”
I rolled my eyes.
“There’s no way a girl like you is dating a guy like that.”
I frowned. “Pardon me?!”
He just grinned.
“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means Chester is a fucking dork, and you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen, and if you’re dating that fucking guy, the world is out of fucking balance, Princess.”
I blushed, looking away.
“Dance with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve seen me naked.”
My face went hot as I whirled and started to walk away. But his hand grabbed me again,
and then I shivered as he pulled me against him, his lips by my ear.
“Besides that though,” he purred, turning me to face him. “Because putting my hands on you, and feeling you close to me, and seeing that fire in your eyes?”
I felt the heat creeping back in places it shouldn’t, feeling his eyes burning right into me.
“Because those are the best things I’ve ever felt in my life.”
I shook my head, clearing it from the magic he was whispering. This was, after all, Magnus Jameson, who was infamous for saying things like this to girls in order to get them to, well, you know.
And I would not be one of his conquests, thank you very much.
“That’s so sweet,” I said, adding an extra flirt to my voice, and batting my eyes at him.
He grinned triumphantly, thinking he’d won me over.
“Now, tell, me,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “How many girls have you said those exact words to?”
He frowned. “None, those were—”
“Please, spare me the line okay?” I forced a laugh. “Not interested.”
“Yes you are.”
I whirled back, my jaw dropping
“Excuse me?”
“You are,” he said smugly. “Interested, that is.” His eyes dropped to the front of his tuxedo pants before looking back at me and winking.
My jaw dropped as I shook my head.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re all I’ve fucking thought about since that night,” he growled yanking me against him.
“I—”
“And I know you’ve thought of me.”
“You don’t know a thing about me.”
“There’s where you’re wrong, Princess. I know that deep down, you’re just dying to drop the good girl act and get a little wild.”
“No I’m no—”
“It’s why you went on vacation without telling Daddy. It’s why you used a fake name. It’s why you couldn't take your eyes off my cock back there in the—”
I don’t remember telling my brain to slap him, but I did anyways.
I gasped after I did, snatching my palm back and my jaw dropping as the redness spread across his cheek.
He didn’t even move.
He didn’t scowl.
He didn’t bring a hand up to touch it.
He just grinned at me,
“See now, that was bad.”
He pulled me close, making me tumble right into him.
“Now let’s see what else we can do that’s bad,” he purred.
I pulled away, whirled, and ran.
4
Magnus
“Did I just see you talking to—”
“Yes.”
Caspian cleared his throat, sipping a drink. “I might remind you that this is not the venue for you to pull your usual shit with girls?”
“Oh, it’s not?” I said sarcastically,
“And not with King Lucian’s fucking daughter,” he hissed, shooting me a look.
“Relax, Charming.”
Caspian Charming and his brother Cade were twins. Blonde, blue eyed, good boys. I smirked, thinking of the nickname Logan had given them: the Ken dolls.
They weren’t that good, to be honest. I’d known them long enough to know they just looked like good little golden princes, when really, those two were just as dirty as me. Well, almost. I’d seen them take home enough women — women to share, at that.
Still, they did better at functions like this than me. Being “Princely” was always tough for me. I’d rather have a few more drinks than I should. Laugh a little louder. Dance a little crazier. Stay up a little later.
Caspian and his brother though, they knew the parameters, and they knew how to look perfect within them.
Assholes.
“So, you weren’t just flirting with Imogen Morningstar?”
“No, of course not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, what?”
His eyes flicked past me. “Nothing. So if you weren’t, you won’t be pissed that some other dude just took over for you with her on the dance floor?”
I whirled, my face tightening into a frown, and when I saw the fucking douche talking to her, it went into a scowl.
Prince Chester Bught, of Montagne. I mean the guy’s name was butt, for fuck’s sake. Different spelling, but give me a break. How the hell was a girl like Imogen — someone as absolutely perfect who’d haunted my dreams for the last four weeks and controlled my cock through some sort of witchcraft — talking to an absolute tool like him?
It made no sense. And the longer I looked at them, the more pissed it made me, until pissed turned to furious.
Fuck this guy, she was mine. And I knew deep down, she knew she was mine. I might have been under her spell, but she’d fallen under the same thing — I could see it in the way she looked at me, like she was scared of what being near me brought out in her.
I spent far too long in life jumping from bullshit to bullshit, and never finding something real. I'd’ looked at this girl, and it’d felt more real than anything ever before. Now, having touched her, however quickly, however sarcastically, and however much she was scowling at me?
Oh, she was mine alright, I just had to show her.
I grit my teeth as I watched her laugh at something fuckwad said to her, before she curtseyed and walked away. I watched her float across the ballroom floor, my eyes flicking back to him and narrowing at the way he checked out her ass as she left the room.
I slammed my drink back and started to head his way.
“Mags,” Caspian hissed.
I ignored him.
Imogen Morningstar belonged to me. And it was time to tell assholes like Chester Bught to keep his fucking eyes off what was mine.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Chester whirled at the sound of my voice right behind him. He stumbled a little, glancing up at me since I towered above him.
“What?”
Jesus this guy was less princely than me.
“I asked if you were enjoying yourself.”
He stammered. “Oh, uh, yes. Prince Magnus, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
He smiled, like we were chums.
“Wonderful ball isn’t it?”
I didn’t say a word, I just glared at him.
“And princess Imogen is just lovely isn’t she—”
“Walk away.”
He frowned, his stupid face looking confused.
“Pardon me?”
“Walk. Away,” I growled, stepping right into his face.
“Prince Magnus, I’m not sure what you—”
“Princess Imogen and I are engaged,” I said flatly.
He blinked. “Wait, what?”
“We’re engaged,” I bullshitted again. “So I would appreciate it if you kept your fucking eyes off of her.”
He paled, shaking as I growled down into his face.
“Oh, I’m— yes, of course, Magnus. I had no idea! Well congratula—”
“I’d like you to leave the party.”
He frowned. “Pardon me?”
“You’ve offended me. Get the fuck out.”
He stared at me again like I was crazy. I took step towards him, flashing my teeth, and the guy turned and scooted away.
I wanted to grin, but I kept my hard face on until I saw him and his people heading for the exit. Then I grinned, before whirling and scanning the room
Now, to find my princess…
5
Imogen
I smoothed my dress down in the floor to ceiling mirror in the lavish bathroom, glancing over my reflection. Our own quarters were much more modern, but the amenities around this level of the castle, near the ballroom and in the areas where tours came through, were gilded as if we were still in the 18th century. Italian marble floors and counters, intricately tiled walls, gold finish on the hardware, lit by flickering candelabras.
I shook as I smoothed the dress, thinking of him
— of his hands on me. Of his voice in my ear. The smell of him The thoughts he made me feel inside.
God, I’d been thinking horrible, wicked thoughts of him since that day in the hotel room. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him, or his — well, his cock since that night.
The thought made me blush.
And it hadn’t just been thinking. In the darkness of my room late at night, more than a few times over the last month, I’d let go as the thoughts of that moment came back to me. I’d let my legs open under my sheets. I’d let my fingers explore. I’d let a thumb brush my clit, a finger slip inside my slick pussy as I’d thought about Magnus and his enormous cock.
He was so gross, and so crude, and so wrong. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, or fantasizing about him and his enormous tool. It was like he’d hooked me with a spell, and I couldn’t break free. I couldn’t close my eyes without thinking of his perfect body stretched out on my hotel room bed, which of course, made me horribly and terribly wet.
Every time.
Yes, his reputation was nose-wrinkling, but there was also something about it that was so damn tempting and alluring.
…A man like that knew what he was doing. A man like that knew what he wanted and knew exactly how to treat a girl — even one like me who’d never done anything but a quick peck on the cheek.
Ridiculous, right? I mean I was twenty years old for crying out loud.
My cheeks grew pink in the bathroom mirror as I imagined the other scenario I’d thought of. The one where I didn’t run from that hotel room like a total freak, and instead, been bold. The daydream where I’d been wild instead.
Instead, I imagined what would have happened if I’d just gone to him, and let him tear the bikini from my body and ravish me anyway he chose to.
The size of him scared me, but it also got my blood pumping hot like liquid fire. I couldn’t even imagine how something like that fit inside something as small and as tight as my untouched pussy, but damn had I spent the last few weeks trying to imagine it.
I shook my head. This was silly, and gross. I needed to get back to the ball, go talk to Chester and—
The door swung open, and I gasped as I whirled.