Prince Charming Novels & Stories

CAMILLA I blinked my eyes as I looked at the prince in shock. Did he just ask me to get married to him? "Are you ....drunk your Highness?" I asked him. That was the only explanation I could think of for this. He had to be drunk. Adrian looked at me like I was crazy. "What?!" He asked me. "I think you may be drunk Your Highness. It's late and I think you should go to bed.... tomorrow....you'll realize that you just made a mistake" I said.

I continued. "Ex-Prince, for your information," he corrected. His brows slightly creased. "Okay, ex-prince charming," I cleared my throat, blinking my eyes fast as that 'charming' word slipped out accidentally. I didn't mean it! He chuckled at that and shook his head. "But still, you are a prince! You were born with it, and it doesn't matter if you let go of your title eight years ago because you are still a part of the Findlaech-Crinain household."

"Now, scrub peasant." "Peasant?" I mimicked back, grinning and jerking the plate away from her. "You have problems." She puffed out her nose. "I have charm. Get it correct." I did not want to acknowledge it. Wanted to be able to brutally reject the manner in which her silly antics tangled my heart into a warm, danger knot. But as she shoved me in the hip and made great 'princess' noises, I could not lie to myself. She wasn't just charming.

“You want the position of Crown Prince back. So you got into her head, convinced her to discredit me in front of the world. Was that what that horse ride was about, Arden? Convincing my wife to humiliate me?” Arden laughed. Actually laughed. The sound rolled through the hall, rich and mocking. “You did that all by yourself, Richard. You don’t need my help to look like a fool. And for the record, I never wanted the crown. I have a very good thing going for me in Belmont.” He leaned in slightly, voice lower, sharper. “Unlike you, I don’t need a throne to feel like a man.”

“When we’re rested and when I know my mother is all right.” “The longer you make me wait…” Her chin rose, bringing her confident expression to view. “Yes, Mr. Demetri, bring it on.” My dick twitched again. “Fuck.” As I pulled out, Charli’s smile morphed to a pout. “Oh, princess, sleep.” I rolled to my back and pulled her close. With her head on my chest, Charli said, “Whether you want to admit it or not, you are Prince Charming.” Stroking her still-damp hair as the scent of flowers filled my senses, I wished I was, but I wasn’t. For her I’d do my best, but I wasn’t the pure-hearted Disney prince. I knew evil.

Charlene pouted as I was about to shut the door. "Oh? Who’s the charmer in that one?" I asked curiously. "Declan of House Storm. He is perfect, cocky and mocking, yet charming." Charlene sighed dreamily. "Ah, His Caged Princess." I smiled before shutting the door and walking down the hall, unable to stop the shiver that ran through me. Goddess! It was freezing out here.

Fresh out of the shower, black hair tied into a bun, a pair of glasses perched on her nose, an old sweater, nothing else, and a hypnotizing glimmer in her eyes. “Hello Abby.” “Anthony…”

It's the alarm in little man’s voice that has me spinning, laying my eyes on the rumored ‘Mad Prince. Alpha Zayne. He has both arms around two stunning omegas. He's shirtless, with tattooed torso on display. His stomach is hard with abs, his chest is broad—good heavens, his body is a work of art, perfectly sculptured, and his face…? Goddess. The tabloids did not do justice to it. Dark, shoulder-length hair frames his chiseled jaw, perfect lips and eyes as grey as gun metal. My stomach flips as those stormy eyes lock with mine.

After being forced to donate my blood to Zachary Doolithe, my wife Anna Lang's childhood sweetheart, I died in the small quarters that she had personally decorated for me. Before I died, my five-year-old son ran to the main quarters and begged Anna three times. The first time, he broke in and said that I was vomiting blood. Anna scoffed. "I see he's improved his ways. He's even taught our son to lie." Then she ordered the servants to take my son out. The second time, he knocked on the door and said that I was already beginning to convulse in pain. Anna tutted. "I only asked for a little blood, didn't I? It's not like I cut out his heart. Why is he pretending?” The servant stepped forw

“Sorry to make you wait,” I said as I walked into the meeting tent. Evan and Levi were already there, rigid, while a man sat across from the open space waiting for me. He was handsome in an almost irritating way—blond hair neatly kept, blue eyes calm and bright, the kind of face painters loved to put crowns on. He looked exactly like what he claimed to be. Prince Charming. Behind him stood a small, carefully arranged entourage, all polished armor and stillness. I sat down across from them with a smile. “So what business do you have with me?” I asked.