I’d gone home alone that night. And the night after. And the one after that.
I’ll skip to the end: I’d gone home alone for the last four weeks, ever since I’d laid eyes on Claire.
She’d possessed me somehow. She’d captivated me, and hooked me deep like I didn’t think I could be hooked. After all, there were a lot of willing women in the world, and I had ten solid inches for each of them.
Not anymore, apparently. Because apparently, my magnum only got hard at the thought of one woman now.
Oh, right, and she didn’t exist. The reason Claire D’Claire sounded like too weird of a name for someone to have was because it was too weird of a name for someone to have. The name was bullshit, and the room had been paid for via an encrypted online transfer that even I couldn’t glimpse at.
All I had was a fake name, a memory of her burning into my head, and the few things she’d left in the room when she’d run — some clothes, her orange blossom scented shampoo, and her high-heels. Well, one of them at least. I had one shoe of hers, as if this was some sort of fucking fairytale.
Of course, a fairytale wouldn’t involve me wrapping the pair of panties she’d left behind around my cock and stroking myself until I’d emptied my balls at the memory of her.
I’d done it about two dozen times since that night.
I shook my head as I followed my friends up the front steps to the palace.
Of course, I had a reputation to uphold, especially to my three best friends. Hell, I was Prince Magnum. I dropped panties left and right, and I bedded a different woman nightly. The fact that I’d been lying to by best friends about this for weeks, and literally making up fake hook-ups was depressing, not to mention sad. But I couldn’t tell them the truth. I couldn’t tell them I was hung up on some mystery girl I’d never even slept with — one who’d left me a fake name, a few pairs of panties, shampoo, and a shoe.
This night was going to suck. I was going to have to fuck around and pretend I was trying to get into the panties of a bunch of random princesses. I didn’t really pay attention to the latest who’s who of the royalty in the world, and though I knew of King Lucian of course, I knew his daughters mostly stayed out of the limelight, and certainly out of the tabloids.
Wonderful. I was going to have to dance and flirt with a cloud of prudish, plain-jane, shut-in princesses all night, all while my head and my heart was stuck on my mystery Claire.
The storm clouds around my head only darkened, my mood only souring as we stepped down the lavish hallways of the palace towards the sounds of the crowd in King Lucian’s enormous ballroom. I grabbed two champagnes off a waiter’s tray, slugging back one and keeping the second as I took a deep breath and stepped in. Time to put on my mask, act the part, and —
And whoa.
My heart jumped in my chest. My head spun. My whole world stopped for a second. My cock throbbed rock hard in my tuxedo pants.
Impossible. It wasn't possible. She wasn’t real. She didn’t even exist, to the point where if I didn’t have her shoe and her panties, I’d assume she’d been a figment of my imagination.
Expect here she was. Here, in Avlion, at King Lucian’s suitor’s ball, standing with some other girls, looking fucking radiant and gorgeous and sexy as hell in that green and gold dress, with her red hair falling around her shoulders and her green eyes sparkling. My mystery girl.
Claire D’Claire.
I was aware of slugging back the rest of my champagne, pushing away from Caspian and Cade, even though they were talking to me about something or other, and stalking right across the ballroom towards her.
I ignored everything else. I didn’t even see anything else as I shouldered my way right through people towards her. I was a few steps away, when suddenly, she turned, and her eyes went wide.
Oh, she remembered me alright.
She’d run from me once, but Claire D’Claire, or whoever she really was, wasn’t getting away from me again. Tonight, she’d be mine, come hell or high water.
“You,” I growled, stepping into her and feeling my blood run hot at the sound of the gasp from her lips.
“Hi,” she barely whispered, her eyes wide, her cheeks rosy and pink.
I’d ignored the tall blonde and the shorter, black-haired girl standing beside her, but the blonde cleared her throat, clearly recognizing me.
“Um, Imogen, this is—”
“I know who he is,” she said quickly, her lips quivering as she stared at me.
Imogen?
I was still frowning when the blonde curtsied and put her hand out. “Welcome to Avlion, Prince Magnus. I’m Ilana, King Lucian’s eldest daughter.”
“Hey,” I mumbled, barely glancing at her, my eyes still locked on the mystery redhead in front of me as if daring her to disappear again.
The blonde smiled. “And this is Princess Adele White, of Berne.”
I was half tuning her out again, when she continued, and everything went upside down.
“And this is my sister, Princess Imogen.”
That’s when I froze. That’s when it was my turn for my jaw to drop, and my eyes to go wide. Slowly, I turned to the blonde, recognition spreading over my face as I realized she was Princess Imogen Morningstar.
This is my sister.
The other shoe dropped, and slowly, I turned.
Claire D’Claire.
Or else better known as Princess Imogen Morningstar, one of Lucian’s three daughters, and one of the reasons for this ball. My mystery girl was one of the famously virgin princesses of Avlion, and this ball tonight was to find her a suitor for marriage.
Something primal growled inside of me.
She’d run from me once, but that would not be happening again. Because tonight, I was going to make this princess mine and only mine. Find her a husband, huh?
Fuck that.
She’d been mine the second I saw her. Tonight, I’d make sure she knew that.
Chapter 3
Imogen
No.
No-no-no-no-no.
This could not be happening.
I knew he’d be there, of course, but I’d planned on spending the evening camped out by the wall pretending he didn’t exist and that I’d never seen what I’d seen. He, I was sure, would be camped out surrounded by giggling, flirty, slutty princesses — the kind of girls who went for guys like him. The kind of girls that somehow found filthy talking, crude, gorgeous, renowned-as-being-sex-gods type men attractive.
I blushed.
Yeah, jeez, who could find THAT attractive…
I glanced up, shivering as I realized he was staring right at me. And of course, the heat pulsed through my face. The last time I’d seen this man, he’d been naked on my bed, with his cock in his hands and that grin on his face. He still had the same smug smile, though he was thankfully clothed this time.
I wondered for a second if I really was that thankful before I mentally chastised myself.