Royal Beast: A Dark Fairy Tale Romance
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Epilogue
Prologue
Prologue
Epilogue
Royal Beast
James
Rosemary
Preview: The Billionaire’s Bride
Ali
Zeke
Bonus: Guilty
Cole
Emily
Preview: Single Dad’s Fake Bride
Megan
Ethan
About the Author
Royal Beast
A Dark Fairy Tale Romance
Nikki Chase
Contents
Royal Beast
Prologue
1. James
2. Rosemary
3. James
4. James
5. Rosemary
6. James
7. Rosemary
8. Rosemary
9. Rosemary
10. Rosemary
11. James
12. Rosemary
13. Rosemary
14. Rosemary
15. James
16. Rosemary
17. Rosemary
18. Rosemary
19. James
20. Rosemary
21. Rosemary
22. Rosemary
23. James
24. Rosemary
25. James
26. Rosemary
27. Rosemary
28. Rosemary
Epilogue
Preview: The Billionaire’s Bride
Prologue
1. Ali
2. Ali
3. Zeke
4. Ali
5. Zeke
Bonus: Guilty
Prologue
1. Cole
2. Emily
3. Cole
4. Emily
5. Emily
6. Cole
7. Emily
8. Emily
9. Cole
10. Emily
11. Cole
12. Emily
13. Cole
14. Emily
15. Emily
16. Cole
17. Emily
18. Cole
19. Emily
20. Cole
21. Cole
22. Emily
23. Cole
24. Emily
25. Cole
26. Emily
27. Cole
28. Emily
29. Cole
30. Emily
31. Cole
32. Emily
Epilogue
Preview: Single Dad’s Fake Bride
1. Megan
2. Megan
3. Ethan
4. Megan
5. Ethan
About the Author
Copyright © 2017 Nikki Chase
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is for mature readers. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some.
All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.
Royal Beast
A Dark Fairy Tale Romance
Prologue
“Sir, I…” My sentence hangs in the air. I know what I want and I want to ask for it, but I can’t bring myself to.
“Tell me, what do you want?” Prince James leans just close enough to let his lips graze lightly against my pussy as he speaks, making me gasp.
“I want you to… finish what you were doing,” I say softly.
“And what was that?” he asks, prolonging my torment. I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
“You were… You were eating me out, Sir,” I say again, my pussy throbbing, both from the prince’s oral attention and from the cocky, dominating way he’s talking to me right now.
“Good girl,” he says, in the kind of voice that makes me want to please him even more. “But before that, let’s get your punishment over and done with, shall we?”
“Uh, punishment, Sir?”
He picks me up into his arms, making me shriek in surprise. He stands me up on my feet, then he sits on a chair by the big wooden desk, on which lie a few stacks of books.
“Lie across my lap,” he says darkly.
As if hypnotized, I step forward and put my belly across Prince James’ lap. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen it before. I’ve fantasized about it, but I still can’t quite believe it’s actually about to happen now.
“Relax,” the prince says, chuckling. “You’re going to like it.”
Despite his words, my muscles tense as he pulls the hem of my dress up over my waist.
Naked and vulnerable, all I can do is lie here and wait, while the heat from the prince’s lustful gaze sears into my flesh. I can feel his anticipation. The thought of inflicting pain on my body excites him.
I place my fingers on the marble floor to balance myself. The prince’s shadow moves as he raises his hand in the air. I brace myself for the impact.
Smack!
The prince’s palm lands on my ass cheek, making it hot with pain.
I whimper.
Why did I ever think this would feel good?
Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Submissive after all. I should tell the prince I’m not what he thinks I am.
As I part my lips, the prince rubs the part of my ass that’s stinging in pain. His hand feels so gentle and warm.
At his soothing touch, the heat from the pain turns into pleasure that seeps through my skin and spreads throughout my body.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, sweetheart?” Prince James asks.
“N—no, Sir.”
“You like it, don’t you?”
I remain quiet.
Did I…?
James
I almost can’t believe my eyes.
But there’s no doubt in my mind.
It’s her.
She’s even wearing that same choker around her slender neck, the one that looks a lot like a collar.
I can’t forget a face like that. Or a body like that. The picture I’m looking at doesn’t show any part of her below the neck, but I remember.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” The man asks. Exhaustion is still written all over his face, but he’s beaming with pride.
“Yes, they’re lovely,” I answer, briefly tearing my eyes from the man’s phone that I’m holding in my hands.
I couldn’t care less about the other two girls in the picture. I only have my eyes on her, the one with the big, doe-like eyes the color of café au lait, the one with the wavy honey-brown hair tumbling down her back.
“This is Clara, my oldest,” he says as he points at the girl on the left. “Irina, the middle one—” his index finger moves to the girl in the center, then finally to the girl on the right “—and Rosemary, my youngest daughter.”
Rosemary.
So that’s her name.
It fits her. A name from the old world, classic and elegant. But most importantly of all, that name is just another clue that she belongs to me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I saw her last month. In fact, I’ve taken screenshots and short videos of the moments she’s
caught by the surveillance cameras.
That tight little yellow dress, covering her up while showing off all her curves. That black choker around her neck. That golden rose pendant that rests between her collar bones, pulsing to the beat of her heart.
And now this old man is telling me that beauty is his daughter?
If I were a little more naïve, I’d be stumbling all over myself to declare this to be the work of fate. I’m not going to do that, but I know an opportunity like this will not come by twice.
“They’re all grown up,” I comment casually as Albert, my butler, comes to pour us more red wine. He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, but I press on. To the old man, I say, “They must be starting their own families now.”
“Oh, no.” Wrinkles appear on the man’s forehead and around his brown eyes when he chuckles. “My girls haven’t been lucky when it comes to love, especially Rosemary. She hasn’t ever had a boyfriend.”
And yet, despite the man having daughters of marriageable age and me obviously staring too long at the picture, he makes no mention of match-making.
It doesn’t surprise me, of course. Even though I’m royalty, my reputation as a sadistic beast has preceded me.
Still, I suppress a smile from spreading across my face.
So she’s really a virgin.
I had my doubts when I saw the white band around her wrist at the club. There was a meaning attached to every color, and white was for virgins.
But I thought a girl like her must have had many suitors. She couldn’t possibly be untouched.
“I have to admit it’s good to have them all to myself, though, even though that sounds selfish,” the old man suddenly says, smiling awkwardly.
Returning his smile, I wonder if he simply said that to fill the silence. I’m so used to quiet and solitude that it feels normal to me.
“Well, Quentin, I should retire for the night,” I say. “I have an event to attend in the morning. It’s the anniversary of the women’s division of the Royal Navy tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much for everything, Prince James. I mean, Your Royal Highness,” the old man says as he stands up.
“Oh, please. No need to get up. Just sit back and enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” he repeats, stubbornly getting up. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I could’ve gotten lost in the woods and gotten attacked by wolves. You’ve saved my life.”
“Don’t mention it.” I give him the same polite smile that I usually give the press, then leave him with the mountains of food on the table.
I live alone in this big palace—along with Albert and the rest of the staff, of course. So when a guest comes, Albert tends to go overboard.
I thought this old man was just an ordinary lost traveler. This part of the woods is thick and it regularly swallows up hikers into its depths.
But it turns out he’s related to her.
Based on his non-reaction at my obvious interest in his daughters, Quentin has probably heard about my depraved desires. And just like the rest of the kingdom, he doesn’t want me to get close to any of them.
They seem like a nice little family, and he seems to think Rosemary would be better off if she never sees me again.
He’s wrong, of course, but he doesn’t know that.
In fact, I suspect I’m the only one who knows about his daughter’s dirty little secret.
Rosemary
“Hi, beautiful,” a cop greets me as soon as I walk through the glass door and into the police station.
“Hi Graham, have you heard any news about my father?” I ask, ignoring yet another one of his attempts at flirting. I need his help so it would probably be smarter to get on his good side, but I can’t stand the guy.
“No, Rose. I told you I’d come to your house to personally deliver the news if I heard anything,” Graham says.
“There’s no need for that. You know my number. You can just call me,” I say curtly.
“Okay, princess,” he says. He flashes me his rows of pearly white teeth.
I can only smile politely in response. The way he says it makes me cringe.
Sure, Graham has good looks, and some girls go for that. He has also climbed the ranks in the Willowdale Police Department at a young age, although a lot of his progress has to do with his father being the Chief of Police.
But nepotism isn’t why I’m not interested in his overtures. There’s something unpleasant about him that I can’t quite put a finger on.
For example, right now I know Graham doesn’t care about my father. He just likes the fact that I’m dropping by his workplace more often. He thinks he can use this opportunity to hit on me.
And when he said he’d visit me with any news? He’s only trying to get into my home, where my father doesn’t usually allow male visitors.
Yes, my father is more than a little old-fashioned. But he was born in a different land, where values were a lot more conservative, so I can’t blame him. He’s only trying to protect us.
“How long has it been again, since you last heard from him?” Graham asks.
This is a waste of time. I’ve already given him all the relevant information. There should be no need to go through those same details over and over again.
But I oblige. Anything to find my father.
“Three days. He texted me before he left the city,” I say.
“Three days since he left Malvern, huh? It should’ve taken him one day to get through the woods, so he should’ve been back two days ago,” Graham says.
“Yes.” I stop myself from reminding him that he said the same thing when I came here yesterday. This is not new information.
“It has been raining pretty heavily, so maybe he found shelter somewhere,” he says. “The cell reception is bad in the woods.”
“Yes.” I’m familiar with this problem, but I probably shouldn’t mention it, especially to someone like Graham.
Even though I’m already twenty-one, I’m not supposed to leave the sleepy town of Willowdale on my own—meaning without my father—but I’ve done it, a few times.
The first time I came home from the city, I couldn’t sleep from the fear and guilt. But I kept doing it regardless, and I got better at pushing those feelings aside.
I know it’s wrong and I know father wouldn’t approve, but I can’t help it. All my friends go to the city on weekends, and I’m the only one stuck at home.
I mean, I love my books, my home, and my family. But sometimes a girl wants to see what’s out there.
“Thanks, Graham,” I say as I turn around to leave the police station.
“Any time, beautiful,” he says.
Luckily, I already have my back to him, or he’d see me scrunch up my nose.
As the sun hits my skin and warms me up, I pull out my phone from my bag. Still nothing from my father.
I hope he’s okay.
He probably is. Nobody else but me seems to find it odd that he hasn’t made any contact in three days.
Even my sisters tell me he’s probably just lost his phone—considering how absent-minded my father is, that’s entirely possible.
I really hope they’re right.
James
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
Quentin’s plump body jerks from the shock. Obviously, he didn’t expect to be interrupted. He thought he had the whole garden to himself, the old thief.
If it weren’t for the surveillance cameras, I would’ve missed this. Unfortunately for him, I always check the security footage.
He turns around, and I can see the shock in his eyes. “Your Royal Highness,” he says in a squeaky little voice. “I, uh, I was just about to leave, and then I saw the garden, and—”
“And you thought you’d steal from me,” I cut him off. “I have so many plants, so I wouldn’t notice one or two missing. Have I guessed correctly?”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, cowering as I approach. “I really didn�
��t mean to steal. But I thought you were away, since you said you’d have an early start today, and—”
“And you thought it would be the perfect opportunity,” I finish his sentence for him as I stand right in front of him.
I’m aware of how much bigger and stronger I am than him, and I know how intimidating I seem to him right now.
Despite my royal upbringing, I’d gotten into more than a few fistfights when I was a schoolboy. Older and wiser now, I’ve learned how to subdue an opponent without even touching him.
“No, Your Highness, I swear I didn’t mean to steal anything. I just couldn’t find you or Albert,” Quentin says, his body shivering despite the warm weather. “I would’ve asked for permission otherwise.”
“But you didn’t,” I say in a calm tone that nevertheless makes my indignation known. “Did you know this was my mother’s beloved garden?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t know.”
“I suppose you also didn’t know that it’s a crime to take anything from palace grounds without permission.”
“I apologize, Your Highness. Please forgive me. I merely wanted to bring something home for my daughter, Rosemary,” he says.
My ears prick up with interest when he mentions her name, even as anger continues to simmer in my blood.
“Did she tell you to steal, too?” I ask.
“No, she would never do anything like that,” Quentin says. “When I left for the city, I asked my daughters what they wanted me to bring from the city.
“Since my truck got stuck in the mud, I figured it would take days or weeks for me to get it into town. And the gifts that I originally bought for my daughters would’ve been destroyed by the time I can retrieve them, and that’s only if they haven’t already been stolen.”
“Is there a point to this story?” I ask impatiently. I was expecting him to tell me more about Rosemary, and instead he’s talking about mud.
“My youngest daughter, she wanted me to bring home a rose. I bought her a bouquet of roses in the city, but at this rate the flowers would’ve wilted before I got a chance to bring them home,” he says.