by Alexa Riley
His Princesss
Alexa Riley
Contents
The Princess Series…
His Princess
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Mr and Mrs
Alexa Riley Promises
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Also by Alexa Riley
Stalk the Author
The Princess Series…
We’ve taken our love of crows and glitter to the point of no return. Our best advice is don’t get caught up in the details… just enjoy the over-the-top romance! Each book is a stand alone, and a happily ever after.
HIS PRINCESS
by
Alexa Riley
Alena is a princess, and with that comes responsibility. Like marrying the giant caveman King Roman, who looks more like a warrior than a ruler. Everything about him is intense. Especially the way e looks at her. But she's been promised to him, and there's no way out.
Roman took one look and made up his mind. Princess Alena will be his and no one will stop him from taking her. Everything about her belongs to him now, and waiting one week for a wedding isn't going to happen.
This beast of a man might just claim his princess before she has a chance to say "I do."
Warning: Oh, this is good. It's so, so good. Trust us.
Copyright © 2017 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]
http://alexariley.com/
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Edited by Aquila Editing
Cover Designer Mayhem Cover Creations
For fairytales… they are alive and real in your heart.
And maybe your lady business.
1
Alena
“Is that him?” Tabby asks as she comes up behind me to get a better look. Her long dark hair tumbles onto my shoulder as she peers at my laptop screen. It’s as if she’s never seen the man in question. Everyone knows who King Roman is. Well, if you’re royalty you do. Right now, there’s not a royal alive who doesn’t know who he is, because he’s decided to take a wife. A wife of his choosing, and I’ve been chosen.
It’s the fate of someone with my bloodline. I don’t get a choice on who I get to marry, so when my family was presented with the arrangement, it was decided behind closed doors, and papers were signed. I’m officially the promised bride to the King, and that’s that.
I look at my future husband, and there’s no missing that Roman is a born leader. It radiates off him in commanding waves. I can even feel it through my computer screen. Though I’m not sure if he should be sitting on a throne or leading an army of men into battle. From the look on his face, you would think he was a warrior.
He’s nothing but lines and fierce angles. The man is well over six feet tall and then some. In his pictures he even towers over some of his own security. His hair is dark as night and comes to his collar, but it does little to hide his eyes, which are just as black. He’s not lean either. He’s thick and broad like a rugby player, and I can see why the public has nicknamed him The Wall. He radiates strength and power, and my hand is shaky as I click the next image.
“Tabby. I can’t marry him,” I plead with my sister.
I don’t even know how I was chosen over her. Tabby is the one men flock to. Her beauty lights up a room. I look nothing like my family.
Somehow I ended up barely over five foot with blonde hair, blue eyes, and the fairest skin. My sister, on the other hand, like the rest of my family, is almost six foot and has long black hair, deep green eyes and skin that looks like the sun kisses it every day.
I stand out in a way I don’t like. I’ve felt like I don’t belong since birth, but Tabby would never make me feel that way.
She wraps her arms around me from behind, both of us still staring at the screen. “I tried,” she says, making me gasp. I turn around and look at her.
Tabby is dreading getting married, probably because my parents have been talking about her marriage since she could walk. The worst part is, she doesn’t even want to marry royalty. In fact, she despises the idea. If it was up to her she’d have a little cottage with twenty kids and a brute of a husband. Yes, a brute. One too many romance novels and now Tabby is in love with cavemen. “I knew you wouldn’t want this.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Al.”
“I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”
“You know I’d do anything for you. I’m your big sister. It’s my job.” She pulls on a strand of my hair. “I was hoping that maybe if he had agreed to marry me instead, I could bring you with me. But to be honest, I don’t even think they asked him.” She walks over to my bed and plops down on it. “He wants you.”
“Maybe. Maybe I can ask to take you with me,” I try. If I get married to this man and have to leave home, it wouldn’t be so bad if I had Tabby with me. Because when I talk about home, I don’t mean the one my parents made for us. I mean Tabby is my home. The thought of us being apart is something I don’t want to face.
“Yeah, right.”
I knew that wouldn’t be possible before the words left my mouth. Tabby is my parents’ golden ticket. She’s had so many offers of marriage we’ve lost count. But my parents turned them all down. Never rich enough, never had enough status or power. Tabby is twenty-four and still unmarried. That isn’t normal. I’m barely marrying age. I thought I had more time and even thought maybe I would never be asked. I’d hoped that I could just go wherever Tabby went.
But to my—and my parents’—shock, I was chosen. And by someone with a lot of power and money.
I turn back to my laptop, forcing myself to look at my future. Not only is Roman intimidating, the word is he rules with an iron fist. I click through pictures of him and never once do I encounter one where he’s smiling. His face is always straight and stoic, even in the pictures of him as a little boy with his mother and father.
I don’t know how long I scroll though the pictures when Tabby interrupts me. “Who’s that?” she asks, and I jump. I didn’t even feel her come up behind me.
“Princess Kaul,” I say, glancing down at the print under the picture. “Looks like they are on a date at some ball. She’s pretty,” I mutter, feeling a pang of jealousy that my husband—future husband, I correct—was out with another woman not even a month ago.
“Meh,” my sister says dismissively. “Who knows if she’s really pretty once you wipe all that shit off her face.”
I giggle.
“Why didn’t he just marry her?”
“Maybe he got all that make-up off and ran for the hills. Maybe she’s annoying. Maybe she chews with her mouth open. Who knows.”
“But he’s going to marry me without even meeting me. Wha
t if I do all that stuff? I can do all that stuff.” I turn in my chair. “Layer my face up, stuff my mouth with food so he can see every chomp. And we both know my laugh is the worst.”
“It is pretty bad,” Tabby agrees, grinning.
It’s not that it sounds funny, it’s just kinda loud. Really loud. Maybe a little infectious, too, because a few times I’ve started laughing, then Tabby and I are laughing about my laugh, and this will go on for five minutes. It drives my parents nuts, which is an added bonus.
Tabby’s eyes light up at a thought. “He’s coming for dinner.”
My shoulders drop. I don’t know why she’s excited about that.
“Maybe you can make a fool of yourself. Make him realize that you aren’t the one he wants!” Tabby jumps up, and I can see this plan is already in motion.
2
Roman
“Are you sure about this?”
I look up at the question to see my top royal guard and best friend, Vlad, walking over to me.
“Do you have a better suggestion?” I say through clenched teeth. I’ve been through this with him a thousand times, and I can’t make myself any clearer.
“No. But I know you better than anyone else. And I know that you’re worried.”
“Let’s see how you do once you choose a bride.” I glare at him and then walk over to my desk, grabbing a set of cufflinks.
“Oh, come on, Roman, we both know that’s never happening.” He walks over to one of the seats in my office and sits down. “You’d never release me from my royal duty.”
I roll my eyes at him and give him the finger. “You’re released. Get out.”
“We both know you don’t want that,” he laughs, but then leans forward, becoming serious. “You’re my brother. Maybe not by birth or blood. But we were raised together since we were children. If I take a wife, it will be because you command me to. My duty is to my king.”
“And so your king says be useful,” I tell him, holding out a cufflink for him to help me put it on.
“Don’t you have servants for this?” he jokes, knowing how much I hate having royal staff.
When I was younger it never bothered me. There were always people around to help. But as I got older, I saw it was the job of our family to take care of them just as much as they take care of us. When my father passed away and the kingship fell on my shoulders, it turned into a responsibility. Now I prefer my privacy, even though there is someone around every corner.
“Just do it, and shut up.”
“Yes, my king,” he laughs, and fixes the cufflink. “She’s very pretty.”
“Watch your mouth,” I growl as he fastens the second one, and I step away.
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“When has my mood ever been light?” I ask as I slip on my suit jacket and walk over to the mirror.
“Good point.”
For a moment I allow myself to think about my bride—the wave of her long blonde hair, and her plump rosy lips. Her creamy delicate skin with a hint of pink when she blushes. Those soft blue eyes that are the color of baby blankets made for our sons.
“Thinking of my grandchildren?” a soft voice says from behind me, and I turn to see my mother.
How she’s able to read my mind so clearly is both terrifying and amazing.
“Aren’t I always?” I tease her. I walk over and give her a kiss on the cheek and wait as she says hello to Vlad. “Are you ready for dinner?”
My mother lives away from the palace now that I’m King and am to be married. She visits, but for the most part she keeps busy with her gardens and dogs. When my father passed away a few years ago, she said she was finally able to enjoy a quiet life away from social responsibilities, and she was going to make good use of it.
When I told her that I was ready to take a wife, she gave me a knowing smile. I can’t help but think she and Vlad talk a lot more than they lead me to believe. She arranged all of the royal procedures for asking for a bride’s hand in marriage, and she oversaw the agreement. I knew what I wanted, and I was afraid that if I was in a room and someone told me no that the result might not be what anyone wanted.
Part of that arrangement would be the first meeting with my bride-to-be. The wedding is scheduled for a week from now, but this will be the only meeting until then. All the plans for the wedding have been taken care of by people other than myself. I don’t care though. My end result is getting Alena. That’s the only thing that matters.
Tonight will be the last time I see her until she’s walking down the aisle to me. It will be enough. It has to be.
The dinner will be very small—immediate family only in the privacy of the bride’s home. It’s tradition, and one that I’ve thought about breaking a thousand times. Since the ink was laid on the paper, I’ve wanted to go to Alena. But tradition—and a ridiculous amount of self-control—has kept me from her.
I can’t help but allow a little part of me to wonder if she’s happy with the arrangement. Will she like me when she sees me? Will she learn to love me?
“I’m ready when you two are,” my mother says as she slips her hand into the crook of my arm, and we walk out of my office.
Vlad follows closely as we all climb in the limo and ride silently to Alena’s house. The whole time I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest as I try to remain calm. I can do this. I can be in the same room as her, and everything will be fine. I remind myself to be respectful and kind. To show her that I’m the right choice, even if she didn’t make it. That I will be her king, her husband, and the father to our children.
When I made the marriage arrangement I had only seen one picture of her. One picture and my life was turned upside down. Surely being next to her won’t be so difficult.
I glance over at Vlad as the limo comes to a stop. He gives me an evil grin and shakes his head.
I can’t fool him. Or myself.
3
Alena
Chapter 3 *Alena*
“You look like a hooker. One of those American ones.” I turn to look in the mirror and burst out laughing because I know she’s talking about her favorite movie, Pretty Woman. I’m not shocked—my make-up looks just like Vivian Ward’s.
Tabby beams from behind me. We are in her room, getting ready. I don’t own any make-up, so I’m depending on her. When I do wear it, Tabby has to put it on me because I suck at it. In fact, I suck so bad at it that she confiscated the make-up I once had. She told me she did it for my own good.
“As long as I don’t have to dress like a hooker, it’s perfect,” I tell her, making her laugh.
“I say keep it simple on the outfit.” Tabby walks over to her bed, where she’s laid a few things out.
“This.” She picks up a dark green dress. It has short sleeves and molds tight at the bust. It flares at the waist, stopping a few inches above my knees.
“I can’t wear that. I’ll have to wear heels.” That’s the reason that dress has been in my closet—unworn—forever.
“Yep. I’ve seen you in heels. You’re a walking accident waiting to happen. So heels it is.” She picks up a pair of black heels and holds them next to the dress.
I get up from my chair, take them from her, and start to get dressed, knowing we have to be downstairs soon. She starts doing the same and finds something to wear.
When I turn around I see her standing there in a tight red dress that molds to her curves, making her golden skin look like it’s glowing. Red has always been Tabby’s color—her dark hair and red seem to go together. We could never share closets. Tabby has hourglass curves whereas I can barely fill anything out. I’m just built small. My giant husband is going to break me.
“Wait, are you trying to get his attention so he’ll marry you? I thought we were scaring him off.” I feel a little panicked and I don’t know why, but the idea of my sister ending up with him is one I don’t like.
“Whatever you want.” She looks at me like she’s confused. Her outfit is what she would
normally wear. Tabby always dresses up and looks nice.
“Girls.” I hear my mom calling us right before the door opens. “Let’s go.” She gives us a glance before she turns and heads out of the room, a glass full of wine in hand, like always.
I slip the shoes on and almost fall over but catch myself before it happens. It makes Tabby giggle, and I snort. Maybe we don’t have to try to be weird.
“Come on.” Tabby locks her arm with mine and we make our way towards the great room. I can’t help but wonder if they are already here.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. “I’m so shy I don’t know if I can make a fool of myself.”
“I’ll be right here. We’ve got this.” I look up at her and nod. When we turn the corner, I freeze, and everyone turns to look at us. I drop my eyes to the floor, feeling warmth spread on my face.
I hear Tabby whisper, “Holy fuck,” next to me, so low only I can hear it. I look over at her and follow her line of sight. She’s staring at a man standing with his arms folded over his chest. He has dark hair and deep green eyes. He’s got a smirk on his face that shows off a dimple. And his eyes are on Tabby, which is normal. Most men’s eyes go straight to her.
Roman steps in front of the man, blocking my view of him. His eyes are trained on me. His face looks hard and angry. His nostrils flare, and I take a step back, and then another. He’s wearing a black suit, and I wonder if this man has something against color. He starts moving toward me as I keep backing up. I feel like a squirrel caught in the road, and I don’t know which way to go, so I just keep moving backwards.
“Sweetheart, this is King Roman,” I hear my mother say. I can’t pull my eyes away from him.
