The Silver Eyed Prince (Highest Royal Coven of Europe)

by VJ Dunraven

  Elizabeth took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. The parking lot was now a madhouse of cars and kids. At the far side of the stairs some boys launched themselves from the bottom step, somersaulted in the air, and landed on their feet at the top landing.

  High above them, a cluster of girls clapped from the edge of the roof. A few of them balanced precariously on a narrow ledge.

  Another group sat higher up on the clock tower, swinging their feet as they observed the activity below.

  If not for these unusual displays Elizabeth would have thought she was in a regular high school, except of course, classes started at midnight.

  “I'm back!” Lela said next to her just as a sudden hush invaded the merry atmosphere.

  As if on cue, everyone around her stood still and turned towards the reserved parking spaces across the building entrance. A silver Mercedes Benz sports car pulled up into one of the spaces, followed by a yellow BMW convertible.

  The car doors opened simultaneously. Two guys stepped out of the Mercedes and three girls slid from the BMW. They were an eye-catching group. The guys were tall, dark-haired, and handsome, and the girls were gorgeous and fashionable. Out of the three girls, the black-haired one stood out. Elizabeth thought she'd never seen anyone so stunning.

  “Did we miss anything?” Ben poked his head between her and Lela, who was also engrossed in watching the group.

  “Who are they?” Elizabeth nodded in their direction.

  “European Royalty!” Ben clapped excitedly. “See the two cute guys?” He pointed at the men from the Mercedes.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The one in blue is Prince David of Belgium, and the one in gray is Prince Philippe of Spain.” Ben sighed dreamily.

  “What about the girls?”

  “The twin blond girls are Princess Sophia and Princess Silvia of Switzerland.” Ben shook his forefinger. “Don't bother asking me who's who, because I can’t tell.” He aimed a manicured pinky towards the last girl. “That one with the black hair a-la-Cleopatra is Lady Catherine, daughter of a Danish Marchioness.”

  “She's very beautiful.” Elizabeth followed the girl with her eyes.

  “That's why she's being matched to marry Prince—” The powerful roar of a passing vehicle drowned out Ben's last word.

  “Who?” Elizabeth leaned her head closer.

  “Him!” Ben pointed discreetly. “I can't believe he's here!” He gaped wide-eyed at the last guy who parked a sleek black and silver motorcycle in the spot next to the Royals.

  “Why?” Elizabeth darted her eyes from Ben to Lela who appeared to be in shock, and to her surprise, so were the rest of the students within eyesight. “Who is he?” She said above the murmurs that emanated from the crowd.

  “Don't you read the high society blogs?” Ben tossed imaginary long tresses with his hands. “Read the plate number—WLM XIV. That's Prince William the fourteenth, sole heir to the throne of the Highest Royal Coven of Europe!”

  “Nice BMW Motorrad!” Carlos craned his neck and peeked over their heads. “Me likes!”

  Elizabeth followed his gaze to observe the new arrival, who had his back turned. He planted one long leg on the pavement and turned off the engine of his motorcycle.

  Lela nudged her. “Do you know that he's the longest reigning Prince of the last century?”

  “What do you mean?” Elizabeth watched their subject take off his riding gloves and half turn to flex elegant hands with long fingers.

  “He's supposed to be King by now,” Lela lowered her voice a notch. “But his father couldn't bestow him the crown because he's not eligible to inherit it.”

  “Why not?” Elizabeth's interest increased.

  “He needs to get married first to be eligible,” Ben cut in. “That's the only condition for a European Royal heir to take over the throne, but he won't settle down.”

  “The guy is too picky!” Carlos joined in from behind them. “Or maybe he needs glasses! I would've married that chica in two seconds.” He flicked his chin towards the beautiful Catherine. “Better that and be King, than pickle it for more than one hundred years.”

  Elizabeth swiveled to face him. “What do you mean, for more than one hundred—?” she broke off and cast another glance at the guy in question, who by now had unzipped his jacket and was in the process of removing his helmet.

  “Honey,” Ben touched her arm. “He's not exactly young, you know. I think he's like, a hundred seventeen years old?”

  “What?” Elizabeth jerked her head back to Ben. With her mom, the age thing was not too hard to digest no matter how youthful she appeared, but him? “Wait-wait-wait. Brake! You're telling me he's—he's—?”

  “Let me explain,” Lela interjected with a forefinger between them. “One hundred seventeen is his real age, meaning, age from birth up to the present. But! His physical age is actually only nineteen, meaning, from birth up to the peak of maturity. You getz?”

  Elizabeth studied their main topic, who still sat on his motorcycle facing the opposite way to chat with the other royals. He had taken off his helmet to expose thick dark hair so glossy it glistened under the parking lot lights. “What you're saying is—is—” she let out a long sigh.

  “That he looks nineteen, but he's actually one hundred and seventeen,” Carlos finished for her.

  “Oh,” Elizabeth mumbled, unable to tear her eyes off his lush windblown mane and broad shoulders, momentarily forgetting what they were talking about.

  “Ding-dong!” Ben pressed a non-existent doorbell on her shoulder and waved a hand in front of her face. “Anybody there?”

  “Sorry.” Elizabeth blinked. “It's just that—is he really that old?”

  Ben arched a well-groomed eyebrow so high, Elizabeth thought it would touch his hairline. “Sweetheart, I don't care if he's an artifact from Emperor Ming’s Dynasty.” He jutted his chin and posed with hands on his hips. “He can father my baby anytime!”

  And with that, he bunched up his tutu and stuffed it in a ball underneath his leotard, then strutted around pretending to be pregnant, hollering shamelessly, “Fafah? Where are you? Oh, Fafah? Yoodeleheehoo!”

  They were still laughing when the European Royals passed by. Up close, they were even more beautiful. And it wasn't just the porcelain skin, the bright colored eyes, or the statuesque height. Something about the way they moved—graceful and lithe—made them stand out from the crowd.

  Elizabeth watched them enter the main foyer and turned just in time to catch the last guy, Prince William.

  Still facing away from them, he had dismounted his motorcycle and shrugged off his black leather riding jacket. Underneath he had a white long- sleeved shirt over dark-blue designer jeans.

  Elizabeth noticed how tall and fit he was. The white shirt clung to his wide back and his jeans sheathed long, muscular legs. She hid a small smile. Goodness! The guy even has a nice butt!

  He moved a little, just enough for her to get a glimpse of his profile. The straight nose, stubborn chin, and strong line of his jaw took her breath away.

  He raked his fingers slowly through his hair, which he wore longer than fashionable, curling just below his shirt collar. Very sexy, Elizabeth sighed in anticipation, wondering what was keeping him. She wanted so badly to see his face.

  A cool breeze came and caressed his thick locks, saturating the air with his fragrance. Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled the clean, woodsy scent that floated around her.

  Lavender. He smells like lavender.

  She opened her eyes.

  He was approaching the steps where she stood; his jacket slung in the crook of his finger over one shoulder.

  His complexion was fair and flawless, his lips chiseled and red, very masculine.

  And his eyes ... those eyes were something she'd never seen before. Not in this crystalline shade of silver, framed with the longest, darkest lashes, set deep beneath dark slanted brows.

  Her heart lurched in her chest. He's perfect.

  H
e jogged up the steps.

  She trembled with the sudden longing that gripped her. A strange sensation blossomed in her heart, awakening the dormant emotions within. She followed him with her eyes, gazing after him as he passed by.

  Then without warning, he paused mid-stride and let out a deep sigh. He combed his fingers through his hair and turned very slowly—to look at her. Those beautiful, brilliant, silver eyes were suddenly on her.

  Their eyes locked.

  He held her gaze steadily.

  She froze, not knowing what to do. It was too late to look away.

  The outside world distorted into a gray blur. Sounds faded into a distant hum. Everything, even time, seemed to move in slow motion. She felt encapsulated, suspended within a space where nothing and no one mattered, except the two of them.

  He regarded her openly from head to toe, deliberately pausing to focus on her mouth.

  Heat rose on her cheeks. She should be offended by his bold inspection, but she was inexplicably drawn to him. An unknown force seemed to have descended, charging the atmosphere, circling them with fibers of current, binding them in its web.

  Elizabeth swallowed, confused and shaken to the core. What is going on? she wondered, overwhelmed by the effect his presence had on her. He was so commanding, so intimidating, so unattainable, so ... right.

  His eyes returned to her face and caught her staring.

  She quickly dropped her gaze and focused on his shirt that couldn’t hide his well-defined chest.

  Unfamiliar, disturbing feelings besieged her. What was happening to her? She was smitten like a total doofus! But then, why wouldn't she be? His physicality alone could give any girl at Darian Hall a coronary, except ... it wasn't just that. She felt something more.

  She lifted her eyes and met his.

  He kept gazing at her—as if waiting for something.

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow, wordlessly questioning.

  His lips quirked on one side. Not quite a smile, but more like—disappointment?

  Then, as suddenly as he had paused to look at her, he turned and bounded up the steps two at a time the rest of the way, leaving her standing there gaping after him.

  “Oh. My. Gosh!” Ben exclaimed. “I think I just ovulated! Gorgeoouuss!” he shrieked and elbowed Elizabeth playfully. “Did he just stare at you, or did I just mega-hallucinate?”

  “What?” Elizabeth blinked, still stunned by the strange encounter.

  “You had an out-of-body experience,” Lela butted in with her eyes crossed.

  “Hey, guys!” Carlos beckoned at them from the top step. “Hurry up! We're late!” He glared at Ben's inflated tummy. “Toss that baby out or I'll give you a C-section!”

  Chapter 7

  Prince William Erik XIV:

  At First Sight

  Prince William knew something was different from the moment he took off his helmet. He could sense her. He could feel her watching him. He tried to single out her thoughts, attempting to pinpoint her location.

  Impossible. Too many students congregated in the parking lot. A number watched him at the same time. The din of voices in his mind made it difficult to decipher which one belonged to her.

  He decided to go up the steps leading to the main foyer to get a better perspective. The elevation would clear his head. He passed several groups of students on the first landing.

  Too crowded. He needed to go up some more.

  Then suddenly, he became aware—not of her voice, but of her heart.

  Unconditional love. Unmistakable. Palpable. Hard to miss.

  He stopped in his tracks.

  And just like that—there she was.

  The indigo-eyed girl with the titian hair cascading in waves to her waist.

  She, who had haunted his visions, yet whose name and whereabouts he could not foresee.

  The one he had searched for in every corner of Europe and every Royal family he had come across.

  The very same girl who stood on the steps at this very moment looking straight at him.

  Their eyes collided.

  Lightning shot through his veins.

  The lock that had imprisoned his heart all these years split wide open.

  A vortex of emotions rushed in.

  She more than enchanted him. She stirred a fire, a hunger, and possessiveness so blatant it shocked even himself.

  He devoured her with an avid gaze.

  Her beautiful face, captivating eyes, those pink lips ... he had to control himself from kissing her right there and then, in front of the entire school.

  But then, she demurely averted her gaze.

  It baffled him. He didn't expect this kind of reaction. He had hoped she would recognize him straightaway.

  Why didn't she?

  He frantically searched her thoughts.

  She was confused and awestruck. Well, actually—more like confused on why she was awestruck.

  And then it occurred to him.

  She had no idea who she was—or who he was to her! No inkling whatsoever that their destinies would soon clash and intertwine.

  Un-bloody-believable! After all this time, she wasn't ready for him!

  Trying his deuce best to conceal his disappointment, he convinced himself that he should walk away. Persuaded himself to give her more time. Summoned all his will-power to turn around, continue up the steps, and leave her behind—the girl he had waited, waited, and waited for ...

  For over a hundred years.

  Chapter 8

  Social Hierarchy Class with Mr. Clark

  Elizabeth struggled to get the Prince off her mind as she followed Ben, Carlos, and Lela up the grand staircase to the third classroom in the left wing. How rude! She stewed, frowning. The jerk didn't even try to hide his disappointment! What—she's not cute enough for His Royal Highness' taste? She rolled her eyes heavenward. Ack! As if she cared. Although ... her lips curved into a secret smile, the guy's probably the hottest jerk she'd ever seen in this side of the universe. She grimaced. What a waste!

  “Let's sit over there.” Ben nudged her elbow and headed to the front row.

  “Where do you think you're going?” A burly boy stuck his leg out preventing Ben from passing through. “Faggots are not allowed in my row.”

  “Oh? And maggots are?” Ben arched an eyebrow at the boy's companions sitting on either side of him who abruptly stopped laughing.

  “Watch your pie-hole!” the burly boy snapped.

  “Hey, maggot-head!” Carlos pushed past Ben. “Move your stinky foot before I kick it out of the way!”

  “Oh, yeah? You’re still the devoted fag defender—huh, Carlos? Or should I call you Carla?” The boy stood up, towering a good five inches over Carlos. His friends flanked him on both sides. Around them the other kids waited, anticipating a fight.

  “Say that again and I’ll show you who the real man is between the two of us,” Carlos growled.

  “Carlos—don't.” Ben tugged at his arm. “It's not worth it.”

  “Come on.” Lela pulled on his other arm.

  Elizabeth stood anxiously next to Ben, hoping Carlos would listen.

  “If you think you can bully anyone here—you better watch it. I bet if you didn’t have these two maggots with you, Ben could knock you out with a pinky.” Carlos smirked.

  “Ooo . . .” the crowd chorused.

  Without warning the boy snarled, fangs bared. His hand flew, sharp claws drawn.

  Carlos ducked.

  Elizabeth watched in horror as his pointed talons whizzed past Carlos' head and zoomed towards Ben.

  She blocked it with her hand without a moment's hesitation.

  A collective gasp sounded in the room.

  “Whoa,” Lela said. “You got some reflexes.”

  Elizabeth stared at the boy's thick wrist in her tiny hand, suspended in mid-air. His claws were an inch away from swiping Ben's face. He angrily yanked his wrist out of her grip.

  “What's going on here?” A man with wild brows, thick m
ustache, and chicken-nest hair called from the door. He peered at them with large, droopy maroon eyes, and entered.

  They all scattered, rushing to their seats.

  Elizabeth and Lela took the nearest chairs on either side of Ben. Carlos sat behind them.

  “That was cool, girl!” Carlos whispered. “Where did you learn that move?”

  “Uh—I don't know how I did that,” Elizabeth replied, still shaken.

  “Thanks for saving my face,” Ben murmured.

  “Do you know him?” Elizabeth glanced at the burly boy who had physically reverted back to normal. Goosebumps rose on her skin just thinking about how sinister he looked not a minute ago.

  “Yeah—since fourth grade. Bart Hammerstein, the most notorious third-sex offender,” Ben muttered under his breath. “The other losers are his cronies. Joe Wayne and Oscar Lynch.”

  “They've been bullying you that long?” Elizabeth asked, aghast.

  Ben nodded. “Not just me, but anyone who's gay or friends with me. So be careful.”

  “Don’t worry—I got your back.” Carlos patted Ben’s shoulder.

  “I know.” Ben half-turned and did a fist-bump with Carlos. “I don’t always say it, but thanks for being a true friend.”

  “Aw, shucks! Quit the mushy stuff. You’re going to make me cry.” Carlos made a face.

  “Poo-poo head!” Ben said.

  “Drama queen!” Carlos retorted.

  “Sshhh!” Lela glared at both of them.

  The gentleman with the droopy eyes placed his things on the desk. “I'm Mr. Thomas Clark, your instructor in Social Hierarchy. Before we begin—Mr. Hammerstein? Is there anything I should know?”

  “Uh, no Sir.” Bart sunk further into his chair.

  “Let me make this clear to all of you.” Mr. Clark swept his gaze about the room. “There will be no bullying in my class. Understood?” He rested his eyes on Bart with a frown.

  Bart and his friends squirmed in their seats.

  “Now let's begin.” Mr. Clark picked up a white board marker. “Our race is grouped into four types of breed. Can anyone tell me what they are?”