Royal Beast: A Dark Fairy Tale Romance

by Nikki Chase

  I fix my gaze on the man, who looks way too familiar. Even though I’ve never met him before, I’ve seen his likeness, perhaps thousands of times over my twenty-one years of existence.

  Those startling blue eyes.

  That golden hair.

  That lopsided smile.

  This man can’t be anyone other than him.

  But it’s impossible.

  What’s Prince James doing here, in the middle of nowhere?

  And why would he want to see me?

  Rosemary

  “Please, come in,” the prince says.

  Oh god. Is he really speaking to me right now? Prince James is actually addressing me?

  It feels like I’m standing knee-deep in drying cement. My legs feel heavy.

  But I can’t just ignore the prince, can I? I’m pretty sure that’s some kind of a criminal offense. Or maybe not. I don’t know.

  But oh my god, that is so not the point. This is not the right time to wonder about whether it’s illegal to be rude to a prince.

  I pull the corners of my lips up to form what I hope is a normal-looking smile. I direct my gaze to the handsome prince.

  Then, I lift my foot, pulling it up from the floor and putting it down a few inches in front of me.

  Okay. That’s one step. Well done, Rose, I congratulate myself. Now there’s a bunch more to take.

  Wait. I haven’t greeted him, have I?

  Now, what do I call a prince? We used to learn this in school, but I never thought I’d actually see a member of the royal family in person. I never thought the information would come in handy.

  It’s so hard to jog my memory, while also simultaneously operating my heavy legs and stiff lips. But somehow the words come to me.

  “Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” I say. My voice sounds shaky, but I’m just glad I’ve managed to come up with an appropriate response.

  James looks at me with his blue eyes, appraising me. He doesn’t seem to feel awkward or uncomfortable, even though he’s blatantly staring.

  A chill runs down my arm as the gravity of the situation dawns on me. Still, my cheeks heat up with embarrassment at having his gaze on me.

  My heart pumps rapidly, sending blood rushing through my veins. I almost jump when the door closes behind me with a soft click.

  It feels like there’s some wet cement still sticking to my feet, weighing me down. Every step feels heavy.

  But I can’t disregard the authority behind those eyes.

  It’s not just because he’s a prince and I’m a commoner. There’s something about this man. Something that doesn’t quite show up in pictures and videos. Perhaps it has something to do with his royal upbringing, but James has a dominant aura about him.

  I mean, sure, he’s a prince and he does literally outrank me in basically everything, but there’s something else.

  Nothing that he’s wearing even suggests that he’s a prince. He’s just wearing a business suit—albeit a nice, well-fitted one that was probably custom-made by the royal tailor. In this modern time, it’s not customary for royalty to wear their crowns, except during certain events.

  So all he’s doing is sit behind a desk made of polished wood—it’s a nice desk, admittedly. He’s leaning back in his chair with his elbows on the armrests and his hands clasped over his lap.

  He looks perfectly at ease. Confident. Self-assured. Regal.

  If Albert derives his dignified look from his formal demeanor, James is the opposite.

  His casual, relaxed stance tells the world that he’s a man who has nobody to fear, nothing to worry about. He reminds me of a lion lazing around in the shade. He doesn’t have to do anything for me to sense he’s in control.

  “Take a seat, Rosemary,” he says in a low, gravelly voice.

  I can’t believe he knows my name. Prince James knows who I am and he’s calling me by my first name.

  Suddenly, I remember what I’m here for.

  He must be the one who sent me the emails with the directions to this palace.

  It can’t be anyone else, can it? Albert wouldn’t call me Rosemary, not even in text-based communication.

  I suppose it could be another member of the staff who feels like having a little fun at the expense of a poor family, but how likely is that?

  I almost burst out laughing.

  That’s a ridiculous question. How likely is anything that has happened so far tonight? And yet, unless I’ve gone insane and I’m actually living in a padded cell in an institution, everything has really happened.

  “Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” I say as I take my seat across the desk from him. This must be how Alice felt when she sat down to have tea with the Mad Hatter for the first time.

  This is surreal.

  I can’t believe I’m only a couple of feet away from this man. Everybody in the kingdom knows him. There are many rumors surrounding his misbehavior so he’s not exactly popular, but everyone in this kingdom knows him.

  “I imagine you must be quite confused, Rosemary,” he says.

  I almost chuckle. “That would be an understatement, Your Royal Highness.”

  “But you came here anyway. Why?” he asks.

  “I want to save my father.” I frown.

  He does know why I’m here, doesn’t he? Unless… Oh, I don’t know. I give up trying to analyze anything. I’m sure what he says next will shed some light on the situation.

  “Interesting,” he says as he gets up, the wooden feet of the chair dragging noisily against the floor.

  My heart starts to pound in my chest as his intense blue eyes study me.

  Standing up at his full height, the prince towers over me. He takes slow, deliberate steps around the table, knowing I wouldn’t dare to rush him.

  My heart thrums when the prince rests his hand on the armrest of my chair. He’s so close I can almost feel the heat emanating from his body.

  “Don’t bite your nails. You’re going to ruin them,” James says.

  I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I let my hand fall away from my mouth and onto my lap.

  “Such a good… daughter,” the prince says with a smirk. His blue eyes darken as he gazes intensely at me.

  If he weren’t the prince, I’d say there’s lust in his eyes. But… it’s impossible, right?

  Prince James can take his pick of any girl in the kingdom. Why would he be interested in someone like me?

  He takes a step back to lean his butt against the desk in front of me. Folding his arms across his broad chest, he says, “Listen closely because I’m about to tell you something important, Rosemary. I’m not going to repeat this.”

  I swallow my nerves and look up at him.

  Maybe I should be offended that he’s addressing me like I’m a child. But he’s the prince, and I still can’t believe he’s actually talking to me.

  But beyond that, something about him makes me want him to talk to me like that, like he holds all the power and he knows he can make me do things for him.

  I’ve never admitted this to anybody but my friend, Elizabeth, who took me to the secret club, but I’m obsessed with romance novels about possessive men who claim their women and take control.

  I just have to imagine myself being under a strong, dominant man’s power, doing his bidding, and my panties would get soaked. Based on my experience at the club, someone like that would demand my interest in real life, too.

  Come to think of it, Prince James kind of reminds me of the man I met at the club. But… he can’t be that man, can he?

  A prince wouldn’t waste his time going to a club for commoners. There must be some fancy balls he can go to, where royalty and nobility can mix and mingle, without being bothered by commoners.

  “Your father has stolen from my property, and he has to pay for his transgression,” he says. “You want to take his place, and I’ll allow it.”

  “Excuse me, Your Royal Highness, but did my father really steal a flower?” I ask.

  “Is that
not what he told you?” he asks back.

  “Well, yes. I just… It’s just difficult for me to understand that he’d steal anything at all. And to be honest,” I take a deep breath and steel myself despite my trepidation, “it also seems like a misunderstanding.”

  “Are you saying I’m being unfair?” James asks.

  “No, of course not. I just—”

  “You just think I’m being too harsh,” he says with finality, cutting me off. “But a crime, no matter how small, is deserving of proper punishment, don’t you think? Or do you suggest we just let go of everyone who runs a red light if it doesn’t result in an accident?”

  I shake my head. I feel like he’s leading me into a logical trap.

  “Good. So we agree that someone has to pay for a crime,” he says with finality. “Now, since it’s a small crime, the punishment is light. Those rose bushes were my mother’s favorite, but your father didn’t know that.”

  I raise my hand to my mouth, surprised by the revelation. My mother has left us a garden to tend to, and I know I’d break the leg of anyone who’d steal something from that garden.

  Everyone in the kingdom loved Prince James’ mother, the queen. When she died in an accident a few years ago, the whole kingdom wept. James was famously close to his mother, and he’s been continuing his mother’s charity work to honor her memory.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Father didn’t tell me this detail, and I wonder if he knew.

  “That's okay. You’ll make up for it. That's what you're here for, Rosemary,” he reminds me.

  Again, my heart skips a beat when I hear my name slide out from between his lips. My nerve endings come alive; I can sense the slightest change in the air. I find myself taking quicker, shallower breaths.

  This is so stupid. He's a freaking prince! What do I think is going to happen between us?

  He doesn't even know me. There's no way he's interested in me like that.

  He probably just needs a gardener to fix whatever damage my father caused to the rose bushes anyway. Maybe my father mentioned that I have a green thumb.

  Honestly, that would actually be the ideal job for me. I may even be able to use my experience here as a plus on my résumé if I ever want to really pursue botany.

  “So, Rosemary…” Prince James cocks an eyebrow and leans forward until I can feel his hot breath on my skin. “A rose has brought you into my home, and I see you're partial to the flower as well,” he says, glancing at the pendant hanging from my choker necklace. “Now, this is the part you need to remember,” he says, locking my gaze to his. “Your safe word is ‘rose.’”

  I recoil in shock. Did he just say what I think he just said?

  A safe word?

  But that…

  That means he wants to..

  “What do you mean… Your Royal Highness?” I ask.

  Amusement dances in his eyes. The corners of his lips pull up and he says, “I told you I wasn't going to repeat myself, Rosemary. You heard me.” He stares right into my eyes, making me feel naked and vulnerable.

  Strangely, that only causes the tingles between my legs to intensify.

  “Now, are you going to apologize for asking me to repeat myself?” James asks darkly.

  “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness,” I say, as if I’m on autopilot.

  “Let’s start with that. You are to call me ‘Sir.’ You’ll find it saves a lot of time,” he says.

  Oh, that's right. Now I remember my third-grade teacher telling the class it's acceptable to call a male member of the royal family that, so I can safely assume that a bunch of people simply call the prince ‘Sir.’

  I’m sure he's right about its time-saving benefits, but I feel like there's something more. First, he says I have a safe word, and now he's telling me to call him ‘Sir?’”

  There's no coincidence here. He knows about my dark desires, and he's telling me he's about to dominate me.

  My breathing grows heavy. My pussy starts to throb.

  How does he know? How does he know everything—from where I live, to my email address, to my sexual preferences?

  For reasons I don't know, Prince James has vast knowledge of my personal details.

  Maybe I should care more about what this means for the kingdom. Maybe this says something about the extent to which government surveillance intrudes into the average person’s life.

  But I can't think.

  At least my brain is not thinking.

  Now, I know that sounds ridiculous, but my brain is not in charge anymore, remember? Cut me some slack.

  I feel like my baser instincts have taken control of the command center in my body.

  This is no longer about him being royalty. He's not my prince at this moment. I can't handle that kind of high-level thinking right now.

  All I know is he's a man and I’m a woman. He's big and strong, while I’m small and delicate. He smells like expensive liquor, and he looks good enough to eat.

  Millions of years ago, Stone Age cavewomen probably used to have these same thoughts when they saw their men coming home from a hunt, all hairy and masculine and sweaty and victorious as they dragged their kills home.

  Much like my ancestors, there’s one thing I want to tell the prince: Bring me to your cave and take me however you want me.

  “You’re supposed to call me ‘Sir,’ Rosemary. Did you hear me?” James asks, whispering in my ear. His breath on my earlobe and neck feels strange. It tickles at first, but then it starts to feel good.

  “Y—yes, Sir,” I say.

  Oh, no. Just calling him “Sir” makes me yearn to submit to him.

  What magic has this man cast upon my body?

  “Good,” he says as his lips graze my neck. “But you asked me to repeat myself and you weren’t supposed to do that. So I’ll have to punish you. Maybe tomorrow, after you’ve rested.”

  Punish?

  Okay, there’s no doubt now. He must be talking about… about the kind of things that people at The Dungeon do, right? Spanking, whips, paddles…

  Prince James wraps one hand loosely around my neck and pulls me closer. His lips land on mine and he tastes me with his tongue. I can’t help but part my lips and sigh into the kiss.

  “I knew you were a good girl. I was right about you,” he says.

  Oh god.

  I can’t believe this, but it can’t be wrong.

  The prince is the man from the club. He has to be.

  I can see it now. The hair. The eyes. The lips that are now planting kisses on my neck… And that voice—the low, demanding tone that I can’t say no to.

  Prince James, the crown prince, picked me up at a club. And now he’s telling me he’s about to dominate me.

  And that is supposed to be a punishment? I mean, I have my reservations about losing my virginity, like everyone does. But I don’t think I can do better than the crown prince, as far as candidates for my first time go.

  If I ever tried to tell this story, nobody would believe me. Yes, not even if they know about the prince’s reputation.

  That’s right. He’s…

  My heart rate goes up when I remember who I’m dealing with. He’s the royal beast, after all. He’s a wild, angry animal, and he wants to eat me alive.

  He may seem nice now, but I shouldn’t let myself get carried away.

  I need to be careful.

  “Rosemary,” James pauses before he asks, “you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

  “Y—yes, Sir.”

  I remember putting on the white wristband at The Dungeon, wondering if any dominant man would be tempted to claim my untouched body for the first time. I had no doubt that at least some men would be—I’m not completely hideous—but I had no idea that the crown prince would be one of those men.

  “That’s good,” he says. “I’ll make sure you’re not one by the time you walk out of this palace.”

  It’s not that I’m expecting the prince to propose marriage, but that’s… I mean, yeah, I know I’m jus
t a commoner. I should count myself lucky that the prince takes an interest in me.

  But I’m not a prostitute. I haven’t offered him my body for sale, and he has no right to it.

  And if I’m being completely honest, it also bothers me that he’s already talking about our separation before anything has even happened.

  I pull away from the prince, leaning back in my chair.

  “If you think I’m letting you… do anything you want to me just because you’re a prince, you’re wrong. You’ve got the wrong girl,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes so he knows I mean business, so he knows I won’t just bend over and literally let him fuck me.

  “You’ve got some fight in you.” James chuckles as he leans back against the desk, placing both palms on the edge. “I like that.”

  I glare at him, folding my arms across my chest.

  “You’re not going to ‘let’ me do anything to you,” James says, making air quotes. His blue eyes darken as his pupils grow. A smirk plays on his lips. “You’re going to beg me to do everything to you.”

  What?

  Cocky bastard.

  “I don’t beg,” I say curtly with my arms over my chest, like I’m shielding myself from him.

  I don’t know why I was ever nervous to be around this man. He may be a prince, but he’s also arrogant and insufferable.

  “You don’t now,” he says with a raise of his eyebrow. “But you’ll be singing a different tune soon.”

  “Look, I’ll take on my father’s punishment, but I won’t pay for his crime with my virginity. My body is not for sale,” I say.

  “Whoa,” James says, holding his palms up. “Who said anything about buying anyone? Slavery is banned by Article Four of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”

  “You said—”

  “I said I was going to make sure you’re a woman when the time comes for you to leave this palace,” he says.

  “And when is that?” I ask.

  “One month from now.”

  “And what do you want me to do while I’m here?”

  “You’re free to do what you want,” he says, to my surprise. “You can just enjoy living in a palace for a while.”

  “You mean to say that… the punishment for stealing a flower from you is to live here in the palace for one month?” I ask.