I told him everything. I told him his daughter was the light I’d been waiting for. I promised him the curse had been real, but that it was gone now. I swore on everything in this world and the next to do whatever it took to prove to him that I was the man for his daughter, and that I’d give her the world on a platter for the rest of her life.
Well, okay, I didn’t tell him everything. I figured it was prudent to leave out the part about taking her virginity the night before.
There was doubt, and I accepted that. After all, I’d spent years digging this reputation for myself as a total monster. And hell, it’s not like I had such a noble reputation before the curse either.
But through Isla, I’d seen the man I needed to be. For myself. For my kingdom.
For her.
In the end, I think that’s what got through to him. That and Queen Jessica, at his side as always, elbowing him sharply in the ribs and hissing at him to quit scowling at me.
We were married a week later. Fuck waiting. I’d been waiting for her my whole damn life.
She came back to Torsund with me a queen, and the whole damn kingdom seemed to light up the second she stepped foot into it. The people were crazy about her, the palace staff adored her, and I loved her as hard as I could.
And I always let the beast out of it’s cage behind our chamber doors whenever she asked for it, which was often.
So if you’re looking for a happy ever after, this is what I can give you: a curse lifted, a heart mended, and queen to complete me, along with the son she ended up bearing me forty weeks to the damn day of the night I took her for the first time.
I’d been an idiot in my youth. Then a monster for longer than I wish to dwell on. But now, I was the man I’d always been meant to be. He just need to find his princess first.
And now? Now we’re getting ready for a ball of our own. You see, there’s another wedding about to happen. I wasn’t the only one who found something he was expecting that night. And tonight, we were going to toast to another happy ending. Tonight we’d toast to—
Well, like I said, maybe that’s a fairy tale for another day.
The End
Sneak Peek - Stealing Beauty
Scroll on for a sample chapter to Stealing Beauty - the next book in the Possessing Beauty series!
Stealing Beauty
She’s been mine from the second I saw her. Tonight, I’ll make sure everyone knows that.
The tabloids call me “Prince Magnum,” and it’s not because I’ve got a big kingdom.
A royal “suitor’s ball”, full of single, untouched female royalty, should be a buffet for a man like me. It doesn’t matter what a woman’s bloodline is -- once I’ve set my sights on her, she’ll be on her knees in minutes.
But that’s before I walk in and lock eyes with her. Princess Imogen.
She’s sweet and untouched, with eyes that beg me to take her and innocence that’s just waiting to be claimed. Once I’ve seen her, nothing is going to stop me from taking what’s mine…
And Imogen will be mine.
A “suitor’s ball” to find her a husband, huh?
F*ck that.
She’s been mine and only mine since the minute I laid eyes on her. And tonight, I’m going to make this princess my queen.
*Please note that each of the Possessing Beauty books are completely standalone stories centered around one couple, with no cliffhangers.
Stealing Beauty is a quick and filthy modern fairytale involving an utterly obsessed alpha hero and enough insta-love, kindle-melting steam, and sugary-sweetness to give you the vapors. If you love over-the-top, slightly unrealistic, and wildly dirty stories, this one’s for you! HEA with NO CHEATING!
Chapter 1
Imogen
I took a shaky breath, my green eyes meeting my own gaze in the mirror. My lip quivered, and I could see the nervousness playing out in a pink blush across my cheeks. I took another breath, clenching my fists by my sides and closing my eyes. I’d been dreading that night for weeks, and now it was here.
The ball. Specifically, the ball my father, King Lucian of Avlion was throwing for all “eligible bachelors and bachelorettes” across the kingdoms, now that he’d finally decided that his daughters were ready for marriage.
Heck, or dating even, since neither myself nor my sisters had really done any of that either. And I was twenty.
I knew my father meant the best for us — not letting his eighteen, twenty, and twenty-one year old daughters seek partners until now wasn’t some show of old-fashioned customs like my little sister Isla always said. He was really just protecting us, and giving us the time to have a proper view of the world before we started looking for someone to share our lives with. And besides that, most princes had horrid reputations as foul, filthy-mouthed womanizers.
But that night should have been something I’d looked forward to, not secretly cringed about. After all, my parents had invited all sorts of princes from the neighboring kingdoms, including the absolutely dreamy Prince Chester of Montagne. I’d be an idiot to think I was the only single princess that had eyes on him, but he’d written my father three times over the last few weeks, mentioning how excited he was for the dance and to meet me.
I know, I know. Believe me, I understand how out of touch it seemed in the modern world of cellphones and Facebook and snapchat to be throwing balls for princes and princesses to meet at, but hey, that's the word I was born into, and as much as Isla, and even my older sister, Ilana, poo-poo-ed the royal life we lived, I actually liked it.
Well, except for tonight.
Because, yes, Chester was coming, and yes, the whole palace had been done up beautifully for the ball, and yes, my bright chartreuse green gown, with the exposed shoulders and gold trim looked amazing and made my red hair and green eyes just pop.
But there was a storm cloud hanging over tonight. A dark, filthy-mouthed, crude-talking, perverted, scandalizing, morally repugnant storm cloud. And this storm cloud had a name:
Prince Magnus Jameson.
The absolutely disgusting, tabloid-scandal-ridden prince of the kingdom of Zale.
The absolutely gross, ridiculously cocky, impossibly arrogant, and unfairly gorgeous Prince Magnus.
And I say unfairly, because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that someone that obnoxious, and with that much of a terrible reputation could also be hands down the most attractive, heart-stoppingly gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. Thick dark brown hair, sharp, piercing blue eyes, and an absolutely melting smile perpetually across that perfect, chiseled, handsome face. Broad shoulders, powerful arms, and since I did unfortunately read the tabloids and see the pictures of him on various beaches and yachts, a body absolutely carved from marble.
Prince Magnus, but then, the tabloids had a new name for him as of late.
Prince Magnum.
Take a guess what that was in reference to.