Everything looks like it's going according to plan.
Including the number of human females dressed in their best gowns, their faces made up, their hair turned out in increasingly intricate hairstyles that look almost impossible to unravel.
Tall, short, thin, plump.
Brunettes, blondes, redheads, even colors not necessarily found in nature.
Pretty and not.
They all watch me as I circulate throughout the room, murmuring polite greetings to my guests. They're ready to be taken. Ready to throw themselves at me.
Why am I not more interested in that thought?
A particularly bold one steps into my path, her curly brown hair sprayed pink to match her dress. Perhaps not the most fortunate choice for her skin tone, but she's pretty enough. And she knows it.
"Would you like to dance, Prince Herne?" she asks confidently, turning slightly to the side to make sure I have an unobstructed view of her breasts, pushed up so high I wonder if it's painful. The amount of enhanced cleavage on display is quite eye catching, I'll give her that.
"Yes, that would be lovely," I accept quietly, smiling as I offer my arm and lead her to the dance floor.
There's no need to be rude, despite the oddly detached mood I find myself in. I listen to her inane chatter and automatically respond appropriately. I could do the same in my sleep. The dance goes well enough. She is adept, if not graceful.
And then I dance with another young human female.
And another.
And another.
Why are all of them so dull tonight? Why can none hold my attention?
This night is starting to feel like a chore rather than the night of debauchery I had intended. I find myself constantly searching the crowd as I attempt to remain polite to my dancing partners.
I know exactly what I'm looking for. Or, rather, who I'm looking for.
Elle.
None of these women come even close to being as interesting as my lovely girl from the park. Why can't I stop thinking about her, even among all these pretty girls, serving themselves up to me on a silver platter? I sigh as I bow to my last partner and quickly make my escape from the floor before anyone else draws me into another dance. I don't think I can keep up the polite front for another one.
As I make my escape, I spot Adir. He isn't alone. Surprise, surprise. A beautiful young brunette human in a champagne-colored gown is next to him. Exactly the type of female he's drawn to.
But her hand is on his arm and he has a possessive hand covering it. The body language alone tells me this is more than just a girl for the moment. I've never seen him look at anyone like he's looking at this female now.
"Wow. How do you think this happened?"
I turn to see Zane beside me, his face as shocked as mine no doubt is.
"I don't know," I murmur, turning back to the couple. And they do look like a couple.
We haven't seen Adir bring an actual date to an event in...I can't remember.
"What do you say we go find out?" Zane suggests with that bad boy wolfish grin that always has all the girls swooning. They eat up that rough-around-the-edges persona.
Though that is actually who Zane is.
Before I can caution him—or point out how teasing Adir ended with him attacking Zane last time—Zane is already calling out Adir's name and walking towards the pair.
"Adir!"
I roll my eyes. Here we go.
Adir turns to us, drawing the young woman possessively closer. She definitely isn't just a random female. If I had to choose whom he would date, if he dated anyone, it would be someone who looks like this girl. Young, human, brunette.
"How are you, Adir?" I ask, slapping him on the back as I smile at the woman.
"Good. Very good," he says with a grin.
And he does look good. I blink as I realize how much better he looks than last time I saw him, just a short time ago. His face looks much less beast-like, his fangs receding, his ears rounder.... Even his facial hair is less unruly.
He turns to the woman beside him, his face soft. What is going on here?
"This is Isabelle Stone. My fiancée."
The shock freezes me for a moment. I look over at Zane, meeting his incredulous look with my own.
Fiancée.
Adir, the one of us closest to losing himself to his beast, has a fiancée. One he seems to genuinely care about.
I shake my head.
"It is in an honor to meet you," I say, recovering as I bow over Isabelle's hand.
"Yes," Zane agrees, taking her hand after me. "How did Adir manage to hook someone like you?"
She laughs, shaking her head. "It's nice to meet you too."
We chat for a bit, but then Adir leads Isa over to the dance floor, obviously wanting to be alone with her.
"He looks much better," I comment with a smile as we watch them go.
"Yes. He does," Zane agrees, squeezing my shoulder. "And I completely understand why."
I turn to him with a slight frown as I hear the amusement in his voice. "What do you..."
A striking redhead hurries over to him. She's beautiful, her coloring standing out even in this crowd. Redheads are increasingly rare and I can tell it's her natural color.
Zane greets her with a warm kiss, his face already softer.
Am I dreaming?
Zane and Adir?
"Ruby, I want you to meet Herne," he says, looking over at me. "He's one of my best friends."
"A pleasure to meet you," I murmur automatically, bowing over her hand as I glance at Zane questioningly.
"We're engaged too," he adds, his grin so wide I could count his teeth.
I laugh again. What else is there to do?
"Is there something in the water?" I wonder out loud. "My congratulations," I say to Ruby, completely dumbfounded now. Even Zane, the bad boy, is engaged?
"Everything has been amazing so far. Thank you for inviting us," Ruby says as she takes Zane's hand.
"I'm delighted you're having a good time," I say, meaning it.
Someone should be.
"On that note, we're off to dance," Zane says, pulling Ruby with him. "Without me or Adir competing with you, you have your pick of the herd, Prince Herne!" he calls out over his shoulder, laughing.
I grin back, as I'm sure he expects me to. I can feel my grin collapse as he turns away. Now I feel even more alone. Both Adir and Zane are engaged, looking happier than I've ever seen them look. And I can't even find a girl here to hold my interest for more than a dance.
All I can think of is the passionate, intelligent, ambitious beauty from the park last night. Maybe nobody else is holding my interest because I don't want a woman for just the night anymore.
That's a heavy thought.
"Prince Herne?"
I look over at the soft voice, taking in the attractive girl with the jet black hair and too-red lipstick.
"Would you like to dance?" she asks.
I open my mouth to agree when the conversations around me start to die down, people's eyes turning to look at the entrance.
The change in the mood is so obvious and abrupt. What are they all staring at? I turn as well, wondering if something has gone wrong. Maybe one of the curtains has caught on fire or someone threw a drink at someone....
But it isn't either of those.
My breath catches in my throat as I see who they are all staring at. A girl has just entered. Someone I've never seen before. As entranced as the rest of the crowd, I take in every detail about her.
Her dress is a work of art. A soft white, it makes her look as if she's wreathed in a constellation of stars. She floats down the few stairs, her hair pulled up in a simple style, leaving her elegant neck bare, small jewels twinkling at her ears.
Her VR make-up is equally flawless, highlighting her golden eyes and perfect lips. Lips that look invitingly lush and soft.
Her curves, that face...
The dress draws attention just long enough for the
eye to be drawn to the actual work of art.
The woman herself.
She's like a dream come true. So perfect, she doesn't look quite real.
Who is she?
I can't place her anywhere.
She's glamorous, sophisticated, somehow making everyone else here look like they're both trying too hard and not trying hard enough. Impressive.
I'm abruptly not bored at all. Or lonely. And I know exactly what I want.
Her.
I want her.
The only girl I've been drawn to all night.
"Excuse me," I say to the girl next to me. Not waiting for a response, I push through the crowd, my attention laser focused on the woman as she glances around, somewhat uncertainly.
"Hello," I greet her as I near.
Her attention goes to me and she smiles, not in flirtation or with calculating eyes like every other girl here has, but with genuine warmth.
"Hello," she says, her voice as lovely as the rest of her.
I clear my throat, trying to recover myself.
She is still simply a female.
I know how to speak to females.
I'm sure Zane and Adir are laughing somewhere as I lose my usual charm when I need it most.
"Would you care to dance?" I ask, deciding on the straightforward approach to avoid embarrassment. She's affecting me too much for a more sophisticated approach. I hold out my arm, the first dance I've initiated all night.
She hesitates for a moment and I hold my breath. Being refused in front of all my guests would be quite humiliating, though I believe I would feel more disappointed that I wouldn't be able to dance with this vision.
Then she puts her hand on my offered arm.
"Yes. Thank you."
I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I can now hold my head up. As I lead her to the floor, I'm aware of the whispers and know they're all speculating about who she is. I completely understand the fascination. I am caught in it too, after all.
Right now, I'm simply looking forward to holding her close in my arms. Maybe this cotillion wasn't such a bad idea. The night is looking up indeed.
If Elle decides not to come after all, I have another beauty to take my mind off her. I feel a twinge at that but then shake it off, determined to get to know this stunning woman.
Only one woman is here in front of me, after all.
The other must not have wanted to see me again.
Chapter 9
Elle
The gorgeous Singarti prince's arm feels hard and muscled under my hand as I follow him onto the dance floor. He looks like he belongs here, in this dream-like setting that doesn't feel quite real.
I was focused almost entirely on my dress for tonight. I almost forgot that I was going to the biggest party of the year, the one where every invitation is coveted. Seeing this place has me remembering that fact. The ballroom is more beautiful than I could have expected or imagined. When I first stepped inside, I had to just stop and look around for a moment, stunned.
The complex musical notes twinning with the pretty light displays near the high ceiling add a whimsical feel to the room that I didn’t expect. The way the floor colors shimmer and change charms me.
Waiters walk around with trays of pretty food in tiny pieces, making their way through the glittering crowd unobtrusively, their black uniforms easily identifiable but not drawing attention from the guests' clothing.
And the clothing is really the show, isn't it? I know it is for me. Everywhere I look, there are examples of dresses from well-known designer labels. These dresses cost more than most people make in a year, and I’ve never seen any of them in person. There doesn't seem to be any one style either—sedate ball gowns stand next to skintight dresses and skirt-and-top combinations.
I’d have to say that the overall theme would be “over-the-top.” Tiaras and sequins and glittery makeup seem to be popular, in many cases, all of them put together on one person.
Am I underdone? I touch my hair a little self-consciously. But I know I don’t want to look like that. I had Gwenda keep the hair and makeup simple, not wanting anything to compete with the dress.
As we reach the dance floor, my attention goes back to my dance partner. Tall and broad-shouldered, he fills out the white tuxedo jacket flawlessly. It's obviously custom made to fit his powerful body, to show off his muscled frame. The black bow tie at his throat contrasts crisply with the starched white shirt, showing off his strong, tanned throat. With his black pants, his clothes present a classic air of elegance. He isn't trying to be the most fashionable person there. I like the understated tuxedo. If he tried to be too trendy, it might be too much with his good looks.
His dark blonde hair is swept off his face, highlighting the strong contours, the high cheekbones, the hollows of his cheeks, the strong jaw line and straight nose. He's clean-shaven, no hair to distract from the arresting beauty of his face.
His dark green eyes watch me as he pulls me in against him. I don't know what he's thinking, but I looks like his attention is all on me. It's flattering and also a little frightening.
As my feet hit the dance floor, I have a small panic attack as I remember I really don't know how to dance. What was I thinking when I accepted? What if I make a fool of myself? Too late to bow out now.
The music starts, and he starts moving us to flow along with it. It is a kind of waltz, something I'm not familiar with as I feared, but he's good at guiding me.
He leans in, a smile in his eyes. "Just follow my lead," he says. "There's nothing to it."
"Is it that obvious?" I ask, blushing a little.
He smiles. "Not if you act like you know what you're doing," he says softly. "Just like with everything in life."
I can't help smiling back at that. I follow his lead and hope I do well enough that he won't notice my lack of coordination.
As I meet his eyes and we start to twirl through the crowd, I'm more aware than I should be of the heat of his palm on mine, the strength of the arm that he has wrapped around my waist.
He isn't holding me so close that it's improper, but there's something about him that makes my heart race regardless.
"Your dress is exquisite," he remarks in that low voice as we continue to move, his eyes focused on my face even as he manages to avoid the other couples. He's well practiced at this, although I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.
I can't help but grin at that compliment. It's exactly the one I hoped to get, the one that I appreciate the most.
"Thank you," I say, glancing around at the crowd around us. I can see that people are watching us, but that could just be due to the fact that I'm dancing with this beautiful Singarti prince. He would draw attention anywhere, even here, where everyone is trying to outdo each other.
They're probably just watching us because they're wondering why he'd be dancing with me.
I have no idea if anyone is really even noticing my dress, or if the Prince even means what he says. Will anyone even take an actual interest in what I'm wearing?
Now that I'm here, I have no idea how to go about talking to people about it. Do I wait for someone to come up to me asked me where I got it? How will I make contact with a potential sponsor? This is so much more complicated than I'd thought it would be.
I only really thought about to finishing the dress and showing up wearing it. Maybe I should have thought more about my approach when I actually got here.
"Are you looking for someone else?" the prince asks, humor clear in his voice.
I quickly turn my attention back to him, worried I might have offended him. Nice going, Elle.
"No!" I say a little too loudly. "No. I'm sorry," I say with a small smile, lowering my voice. "It's just that everything is so pretty. The ballroom, the people, the clothes. I just wanted to look around a little."
His smiles back at me, his eyes twinkling. "Why, thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying the atmosphere."
I gasp. Does he mean...?
"Oh, are you the
prince who's hosting this cotillion?" I ask, surprised.
He nods, his smile widening. "Indeed, I am. And I really am glad you're appreciating all the details."
Okay, now this makes sense. It explains why everyone seems to be sneaking glances at us. They're watching my partner. I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach.
If they're just watching him, that means the attention isn't for my dress after all. But I quickly shake the feeling off. There is no room right now for any kind negative emotion.
I'm at the cotillion, wearing a dress I'm so proud of, and I'm dancing with the most handsome prince here. One that actually seems to be interested in me. I'm determined to enjoy this, damn it. I deserve to enjoy it. I'm tired of always worrying and stressing about everything.
The prince's eyes drop to my lips as I lick them. They darken with clear interest.
I feel an answering wave of heat rise up inside me in response. My heart is already beating faster, the heat low in my belly unmistakable.
Is this really happening? Am I at this ball, dancing with this man?
I bite my lip as I continue to follow his lead, my skirt swaying with the smooth movements as I consider him. Everyone else dreams of Prince Charming...is there any reason why I can't have him, at least for tonight?
I scan his handsome face as I slide my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes rise to meet mine again, half-lidded and full of unmistakable desire. He wants me. I know I'm riding the high of actually having made it here. Here, at the cotillion, with a dress that I love that I created myself.
Maybe I'm not thinking logically right now. So what?
When I spoke to Isa, I encouraged her to get her virginity out of the way with Gideon. He was hot at least, and he obviously wanted her. Why couldn't I do the same with this beautiful prince who is easily the hottest guy I have ever met and who obviously wants me too?
He's charming, handsome, and I don't think he'll refuse. What more could I ask for in my first time? My mind flashes back to Herne, the way he touched me, the way he made me come. The feel and warmth of his body, his conversation, the way he made me feel...
Prince: A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance Page 6
