by Madison Faye
You’d be so very wrong.
I’d barely looked at women since then — zero interest. And this was me we’re talking about. Back before, I’d been famous for my exploits. I’d been legendary in my conquests of royal princesses and queens and duchesses, of movie stars and models and all of that crap. And though I didn’t want to step on Magnus’s parade after the article, he seemed to have forgotten the many tabloid stories that’d been written about what I was packing between my legs.
I’d been a legend, and for four years now, I hadn't even given a second glance to any girl.
It’s like the curse that brought the beast out in me had also left me too cold-hearted to even want the company — even of something meaningless.
So no, tonight was not going to be a problem. The only problem was figuring out how to spend as little time in here as possible. I was being forced to come tonight — and by more than just the worry that not coming was journeying further down into that darkness. Because however shut off I’d been, however isolated, and however removed I’d been for the last four years, my duty was still my duty. I was the reigning Prince regent of Torsund. This meant I was the guy in charge, even if I wasn’t quite king yet. That would come with marriage, because up north, that old rule persisted.
No king without a queen.
So that was the other thing forcing me to be here. I had a kingdom under my control, and I still needed to act the part — even if most of my subjects were more than aware of the state of their regent. At some point, I needed a queen in order to properly lead.
…Even if she was just there to act the part. After all, besides me not being interested in women, I couldn’t imagine a woman being interested in the brooding, dark, prone to anger, prone to heated temper man I’d become.
The truth was, I was barely hanging on. It still didn’t mean I wanted to be there that night though.
“It won’t be a problem, Cade,” I said, calmer now, more me. I glanced around the circle of my three friends — the only three really that had stuck with me since that night four years before. “Let’s go in there and get you three laid.”
Caspian rolled his eyes.“It’s not like that, man.”
Caspian and Cade Charming, ever the two good little prince charmings with their pretty-boy smiles, those blue eyes, and those perfect flops of blond hair. It was like being friends with two Ken dolls sometimes, I fucking swear. It didn’t help that that was literally their fucking last name: Charming.
“It’s supposed to be—”
“Right, a suitors ball,” I said with a small chuckle, frowning as I used my boot to push the pieces of my scotch glass to the side of the walkway. I shook my head, spitting. “Gonna find your fucking soulmates tonight, right boys?”
The three of them grinned warily, clearly not so sure I was in control, and not sure if I was being funny or glib.
“I’m joking, guys.”
Magnus grinned. “Well in that case, let’s head in there and find some soulmates.”
He punctuated his words by thrusting his hips lewdly, before Cade and Caspian both punched him in the arm and started off for the main castle entrance.
A soulmate. Right.
I’d buried the possibility of that deep inside a long time ago. That wasn’t in the cards for me, not anymore. Love was a fucking sinking ship — a sunset being swallowed by the sea over the horizon.
…I just had no idea how fucking wrong I was yet.
Chapter 3
Isla
I saw him the moment he stepped in.
It was impossible not to, of course, since he was enormous, but still, it was like a magnetic force.
Huge.
He was huge. Like, too big to be a real human huge. Dark, brooding, and kind of scary looking to be honest. Dark eyes, furrowed brow, strong, clenched jaw, broad shoulders, and a barrel of a chest.
And yet, as scary and dark and storm-cloudy as he was, there was something that just drew me to him. I couldn’t look away. He was gorgeous, in this broken, tragic way, even if the longer I looked the more I knew how much I should look away.
“And what’s got your eyes?”
I started, quickly looking away. “Nothing.”
Ilana smirked and glanced at Imogen and our friend Adele — Princess White, and vaguely a cousin by marriage from the neighboring kingdom of Berne, who did the same.
“Right,” my sister said thinly. She snickered at Imogen and Adele again before she glanced over my shoulder. Her eyes suddenly wide.
“Oh my God, Isla! No.” She shook her head, her face white. “Were you seriously looking at Prince Logan Anders?”
Imogen’s jaw dropped, and Adele’s hands flew to her mouth as they both craned their necks to stare. I swallowed the heat from my face, as my eyes went as wide as theirs.
“That’s Prince Logan?!” I hissed.
They all three nodded, eyes wide and fearful.
Logan Anders, the dark prince of Torsund. The cursed one. They say magic isn’t real, but the rumors said differently. And if you believed them, Prince Logan had been cursed years back by some sort of witch or something. Four years ago, the man had been infamous in the kingdoms. Handsome, athletic, and a laundry list of bedroom scandals following him. But then something had happened, and he’d changed.
He’d grown darker, and pulled away from all social and public functions, retreating to his castle for the most part. No more golden smiles for the press, no more newspaper shots of him strutting across some tropical beach looking gorgeous. No more tabloid scandals involving some movie star or socialite.
The devastatingly handsome, beautiful prince had disappeared four years ago. But here he was standing in my father’s ballroom.
Darker.
Somewhat broken looking.
Fiercer.
I shivered as I thought of what the tabloids called him now. “The Beast.” Prone to rage and anger — prone to not controlling himself on the rare chances he was seen outside his castle.
I shivered again.
“Isla, seriously, why is he even here?” Adele asked, her face still whiter than usual, her teeth gnawing at her lip.
Slowly shaking my head, I turned back to look at him again, as if to solidify that he was actually here. I turned my head over my shoulder, my eyes moving through the crowed…
And then I froze. I froze and I shivered, a little tremor rattling through my whole body.
…Because those eyes were locked right on me. Those fierce, glowing, animalistic eyes positively burned right through me, nailing me to the spot. I gasped, my heart jumping, and something wicked pulsing between my legs before I yanked my head back around, clutching at my gown as if to still my own hands.
What had that been?
I shivered at the illicit feeling I’d just had for this— this— beast of a man, and shook my head. Maybe I needed something to drink.
Imogen shook her had, answering for me. “Who knows why he’s here. Dad invited everyone I guess.”
“But he showed?”
They all glanced at each other before nervously glancing over my shoulders again.
“What's the big deal?”
I knew what the big deal was. I knew Prince Logan hadn’t been seen in at least a year and a half, and him standing at a courting ball was serious news.
But I still asked
Adele balked at me. “The big deal besides him going crazy and murdering everyone here?”
I laughed, nervously. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Ilana shook her head, her eyes worried. “Isla, he would—”
“I wouldn’t do what?”
I squeaked.
I actually squeaked, like a squirrel or something at the deep, resonating, gravelly baritone voice behind me. I whirled, and suddenly, everything else faded away. Because towering in front of me, was Prince Logan.
He enveloped me, this beast of a man easily two and half times my size. His sheer size had me shivering, towering above me like that. And tho
se eyes — my goodness those eyes! I could feel the heat creep into my face. I could feel that naughty, totally inappropriate pulse again between my legs.
I swallowed thickly, my eyes locked on his.
“Tell me, Princess,” he growled, those eyes burning into mine. I gasped quietly as he reached down, a single thick finger tilting my chin up as his eyes captured mine.
“What wouldn’t I do?”
Chapter 4
Logan
“I— I mean we were just—”
“You’re wondering if the rumors are true.” I said evenly, watching her eyes get big.
She shook her head.
“Of course you are.”
They all were.
“You want to know if I’m going to turn into a wolf or a bear or something and eat someone.” I growled out that last part, finding a sort of glee when her two friends squeaked and jumped back a step.
She didn’t though.
Her — the one who’d caught my eye the second I walked in. I’d stepped into that ballroom ready to walk back out. I’d taken a breath and steeled myself for misery. But then I’d seen her, and it was like for the first time in four fucking years, light had come into my life again.
For the first time in four goddamn years, it was like the clouds parted and sunlight had hit my face again like a long lost friend. And right then, I knew what I’d said to Cade was wrong.
That whole thing about tonight “not being a problem”? Yeah, I’d been very wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Because one look at this gorgeous, innocent creature, and I knew everything was going to change. I knew she was going to be a very big problem.
“What’s your name, Princess?” I husked, feeling my pulse roar under my skin. I could feel the beast stirring inside. Fuck, I could smell the scent of her, could feel the heat from her skin, even though we were still about a foot apart.
I imagined shredding that dress from her lithe little body and devouring her. I lusted to taste her, to run my tongue over every goddamn inch of her.
I hadn’t had these thoughts in four years. Needless to say, my cock was fucking rock hard in seconds.
“Isla,” she said quietly, “Princess Isla Morningstar.”
I barely heard her, since every part of me was fixated on those perfect,plump lips forming the words. But then, I did hear those words, and they rang a bell. For four years, I’d removed myself from the “who’s who” of the royal families. I’d just stopped giving even a remote shit about that. But then, Morningstar rang a bell. Morningstar, as in, King Lucian Morningstar.
As in, tonight’s host.
Those lips of hers curled into a small smile, her cheeks flushed as she realized I wasn’t saying anything. My finger was still on her chin, and I could feel the heated throb of her pulse in her neck.
I ground my teeth, barely containing myself. Barely holding back the beast that wanted nothing more than to yank her against me, claim those sweet lips as mine and mine only, and then take the rest of her, right here on the ballroom floor. My cock lurched inside my tuxedo pants, my pulse hammering like a drum, and my balls feeling heavy with need for her.
I wanted her. The need for her snarled and roared inside. I wanted to claim her and breed her, and run away with her, keeping her as my own.
All insane thoughts. All totally insane.
I didn’t care.
She blushed, and I realized I hadn’t said anything since she’d told me her name.
“I’m Prince L—”
“Logan,” she said quietly. “I know who you are.”
I started. No one ever interrupted me. My personal staff knew to never question me, or stop me, or cut me off. My council knew the same. Hell, my goddamn friends knew it.
Everyone knew it.
Well, everyone except Princess Isla, apparently. And I kind of liked that.
“Are you afraid of me, Princess Isla?”
Her lip quivered, her eyes darted across mine.
“No.”
Liar.
She gasped as I suddenly moved right against her, her tiny body tumbling right into me as her eyes went wide and her cheeks went bright pink.
“Then you won’t mind if I ask for this dance,” I growled into her ear.
Her breath caught.
No, not ask.
“I’m taking you for this dance,” I said, less a question this time as I took her hand, wrapped one arm possessively around her tiny waist, and whirled her way from her stunned friends.
“Do I get to say yes or no?” she finally tumbled out, turning her head to blink up at me in shock.
“No.”
I swear I saw her smile out of the corner of my eyes.
Chapter 5
Isla
I felt weightless, like my feet didn’t even touch the ground.
…Mostly because, they barely did.
I shivered at first when his huge hands went to my waist, holding me tight. But I slowly, let go of the fear. Slowly, I started to ignore that part of me that was terrified at this dark, brooding man and the fierce reputation he carried, and started to warm to the part of me that was drawn to him like a magnet.
He was beyond strong - his thick, muscled arms, broad shoulders, and powerful chest enveloping me as he pulled me close. But the minute his hands held me, I knew I was safe. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, despite the rumors.
Actually, I’d never felt so safe.
I could feel his muscles rippling as we danced, the power in those arms, the way his chest bulged under his tuxedo. My pulse raced faster and faster as the small string ensemble in the corner waltzed us around the ballroom. I knew Ilana, and Imogen, and Adele, and really, lots of people were looking at us, him being who he was and all, but I stopped caring.
He made me forget.
We twirled, moving closer, his hand tightening on my body, and I delighted in the thrill that brought with it. I allowed myself to let go and move close to him, feeling the way his muscles rippled and inhaling the masculine scent of him.
The way my head spun.
The way my pulse fluttered.
The way the heat pooled slick and forbidden between my legs.
Maybe it was the danger. Maybe it was that everyone said he was such a beast. Maybe it was how big and strong he was, or maybe it was the darkness surrounding him.
Whatever it was, it sparked something inside of me.
Big time.
One song moved into another, and I realized my eyes hadn’t left his for at least three of them. He flashed his teeth at me — half a grin, half an animalistic smile, and I felt something forbidden flutter inside of me
I wanted him to kiss me so bad it hurt — as much as I knew that couldn’t happen. Besides him being him, of course it couldn’t happen here, in my father’s castle at the ball.
“You’re not scared of me,” he growled, not so much a question as it was an observation.
I wet my lips with my tongue, watching the way his jaw tightened as I did.
“Should I be?”
“Perhaps a little,” he said softly, his voice edged enough to make the butterflies go nuts in my belly. I gasped as his hands tightened on me, pulling me close to him. Actually, we were far closer than we should have been, just dancing like this at a formal ball, but I didn’t care. I felt my breath catch as I felt his thick, hard body press against mine, my breasts pressed to his abdomen, my eyes level with that muscled chest.
He spun me, and my heart leapt, my skin tingling as I let myself sink into him. I could feel that hot pulse between my legs again, the raw, animalistic masculinity of him like some sort of drug I was immediately hooked on.
This was new to me. This was leagues beyond anything I’d ever experienced. I’d been to plenty of balls, of course, but no one had ever put their hands on me like this.
No one had pulled me this close, or this tight to them.
No one had ever made my heart skip a beat like this.
I could feel m
y nipples hardening under my gown, my panties slowly getting warmer, and wetter as I felt his hands tighten on me, his muscles rippling as we danced. And then I felt something else. I felt something hard pressing into my belly.
I bit my lip to stifle the moan, because as inexperienced and as sheltered as I was — I knew what I was feeling. There were, of course, other rumors about Prince Logan besides being cursed. Specifically, rumors about the part of him that was the stuff of gossipy legend.
Maybe not so much a legend as true, I thought with as sudden terribly naughty and thrilling thought as I felt his hardness pulsing like a muscle against my body.
I could feel him growl, just barely, into my ear as he spun me again, his cock getting harder and harder, and bigger and — dear lord — bigger against me. My head spun, my whole body was on fire for him, wanting him to touch me, to take me, and knowing how wrong and how dangerous, and how un-princessly this was only fueled the fire.
“Come with me,” he suddenly growled, as if reading my thoughts.
“Where?”
“Away from these fucking people,” he said darkly, his hand tightening on mine as he turned and suddenly pulled me access the dance floor towards the doorway without even waiting for me to say yes or no to his demand.
We exited the ballroom into a darkened hallway, only one dim chandelier glowing and casting long shadows, and only one guard standing post by the double French doors out to one of the many ivy-covered terraces of the castle.
“Leave us,” Logan snarled.
The man almost came apart, but I do have to give my father’s guards credit, he did stand his ground, if barely.
“Sir—”
“NOW,” Logan bellowed, his hand tightening on mine.
The man stumbled, his eyes darting to me.
“Princess—”
“You may leave us, Captain,” I said with a small, shy smile, knowing it meant I’d be all alone with Prince Logan and his darkness.
