Stealing Beauty Page 12

“He smiled at you and held a door for you, and that was once, a year ago.”

  “Well that’s nice isn’t it?” I muttered.

  “Have you spoken since?”

  I didn’t answer Imogen.

  “I didn’t think so.” Ilana sighed. “Look, I know it’s not our ideal Saturday night, but tonight’s going be good for you, you know. For all of us.”

  “No it's not.”

  “You do look great.”

  “Well…”

  “And there’ll be lots of princes tonight.”

  “Maybe I don’t want a prince.”

  “Tell that to our father,” Imogen muttered as she stood and checked her hair in the mirror.

  I snorted. Yeah, right.

  “Hey,” Ilana elbowed me in the ribs and winked. “You might even get lucky.”

  Now that was a joke. Under King Lucian’s castle roof, you could be damn sure all three of his daughters were virgins. I had a hard time imagining that changing tonight.

  Ilana took one more look in the mirror, smoothing down her gorgeous blue sequined gown and smoothing her perfectly plaited and bobby-pinned blonde hair.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I sighed.

  She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, dear sisters. Let’s go find ourselves some husbands.”

  Imogen rolled her eye at me over Ilana’s shoulder. “Oh my God, what year is—”

  “And if I hear either of you moaning about ‘what year it is’ or if I hear the word ‘antiquated,’ I swear I’m pushing you into the punch bowl.”

  I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. “Fine. Let’s go get this over with."

  2

  Logan

  “Drink up, let’s get going.”

  Cade glanced at me, his arms crossed over the tuxedo pulled tight across his thick chest. I was nursing my drink, and my best friend knew it.

  “Dude,” Magnus, across our little circle from me, paused to finish slugging back the last of his scotch. He leaned back against the stone guardhouse wall, rolling his eyes at me. “I mean no one’s forcing you to—”

  Caspian, Cade’s twin brother, quickly shut him up with as slug to the arm.

  Magnus frowned, shooting me a wincing look. “Right, sorry dude.”

  I just shook my head, gritting my teeth and swirling the scotch in my glass. “Forget about it.”

  No one’s forcing me to be here.

  I could almost laugh. No one was, and I didn’t have to be there that night. But not coming was another step towards the inevitable. It was one more step into the darkness that was slowly consuming me from the inside out.

  No going to that stupid fucking ball that night was one more step towards changing, forever.

  “So, gents,” Magnus flashed one of his famously lady-killing grins. “Ready to head in there and see what King Lucian has on the buffet for us tonight?”

  We’d been killing time out by the castle’s west gate guardhouse, having a quick drink before we headed in.

  Caspian rolled his eyes, and Cade just shook his head. “You’re ridiculous, Mags.”

  “Make hay while the sun shines, gentleman. Make hay.”

  Even I had to grin at that one. The four of us — all princes of our own respective kingdoms, had been friends forever. After all, we were rich, we were royalty, and we had generations of perfectly selected breeding behind us. We were handsome, built, and cocky as shit, and we reveled in that.

  Well, at least we all had been that. They still were. Me? I was dealing with the darkness.

  Magnus though, was lately enjoying some heightened notoriety from a tabloid piece that’d just run a month ago on him. Apparently, some blabber-mouth of a duchess has gone to the media to sell the story on her “torrid affair” with our buddy Magnus Jameson. Including his — shall we say — measurements.

  The story had run, and had re-dubbed Magnus “Prince Magnum.” Needless to say, the guy was reveling in his new name.

  …Of course, I knew for a fact that I had a solid inch on dear Prince “Magnum,” but I wasn’t about to go write a fucking tabloid story about it.

  “Hey, chill, Mags,” Cade muttered, glaring at our friend as he pulled a joint out of his tux. “Dude, put that shit away. This isn’t spring fucking break, this is a serious deal.”

  “Oh, and I’m very serious about the whole thing, dude.” Magnus winked. “I’m very serious about seeing which ‘eligible bachelorette’ I can fuck so good tonight that she’ll be walking bow-legged tomorrow.”

  Caspian snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Jesus, Mags.”

  “You’re aware of King Lucian’s reputation, correct?” Cade growled. “This is a formal event, buddy. Keep your cock in your fucking tux tonight. And maybe let’s not break the fucking drugs out on Lucian’s fucking castle grounds.”

  “Alright! Alright, Jesus,” Mags sighed. “Fine. Let’s go in there. Now if Logan here would just finish his fucking drin—”

  “I AM!” I roared, suddenly slamming back the scotch and dashing the glass on the cobblestone walk. I whirled, and before any of them could even react, I had Magnus by the collar, slammed back against the wall, and one of my fist raised back.

  I saw red. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to punch one of my best friends in the world through the goddamn wall.

  …And I barely knew why.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked in a breath. I exhaled slowly, hanging on to the real me, still deep inside.

  Barely.

  Slowly, I let go of his tux and took a step back.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, looking away from all of them. “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool, man,” Magnus said, his voice gentle this time, without his usual bravado bullshit. I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off

  “It’s not,” I said quietly. “It’s not cool.”

  “For real, don’t worry about it.” I glanced up at him, and he just nodded and smiled. “I coulda taken you anyways.”

  I grinned back. We both knew that was complete bullshit, but it cut the tension.

  Cade cleared his throat. “You in control?”

  “Yes,” I growled.

  Mostly.

  “Lotta pretty girls in there, bud. You going to be okay?”

  I glared at my friend. “What am I, twelve?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He meant would being around that many nubile young princesses, and that many tantalizing glimpses and flashes of smiles and suggesting eyes might turn me.

  They all worried about this, any time I was going to be around women after my curse.

  …They couldn’t know how wrong they were.

  It’d been four years since the curse — since the witch, or sorceress, or whatever the fuck she’d been. I’d thought she was just a girl at a bar I’d gone to incognito — trying to get away from my princely duties and all that shit for one damn night and just go have some random fun. I’d been chasing fleeting beauty that night, and she knew it.

  Which is why she’d cursed me.

  She’d cursed me to turn further and further away from the Prince I’d once been, and more into short-tempered, barely able to contain himself, barely in control of the animal inside, monster.

  A beast.

  You’d think that an array of gorgeous princesses looking for suitors would be just the damn thing to set me off. You’d think it’d be like setting a wolf loose on the lambs.

  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.

  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 those 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?”

  4

  Logan

  “I— I mean we were just—”

  “You’re wondering if the rumors are true.” I said evenly, wa
tching 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.