Meeting The Prince

Prince Dakar needed to get to the roof of his castle. He pulled off his animal fur regalia and wore a black dress shirt. He tied his hair in a very messy bun and wore black pants alongside black boots. He grabbed his phone and walked out of his room.

“She is beautiful,” Derek, his wolf said in his head. He stopped walking and frowned.

“Stop-talking-about-her,” he gritted angrily.

“Don't command me... I'll talk about whoever I want,” Derek snapped back. Dakar heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his hand on his forehead. He looked at the lines on that arm, snake-like and black. People had thought they were new tattoes since they were on the same side of his wolf tattoo. No one, not even Camper, his closest knew they caused him pain on a regular. Whenever he thought about her, they burned deep into his body and soul, he would regret ever seeing her face in his head. He lived two years in fear of his own mind. Everything s