Prince Novels & Stories

His voice slowly rose and there was no trace of calmness in it anymore, "I am Zayn Hendrixson, crowned prince of the kingdom of Baridoki, rightful heir to the throne" Zayn paused and gave them time to consume the information as they whispered amongst themselves. He took a few steps forward and stood face to face with the scarred face warrior who looked him straight in the eyes with no atom of fear within him. Zayn let out a soft smile and whispered, "You called me a fool, didn't you?" "Of course, I did" He responded blatantly. The prince nodded and tilt his face was him to the watching crowd, "Did you hear that?"

I press my hand against my forehead, beginning to pace, even with my knee protesting as it does. When I look back at the Prince, he’s watching me with a calm expression, although his eyes suggest otherwise. They are ablaze with unreadable emotion, his full lips settled in a line. "My name is Hale,” he murmurs. He doesn’t offer his hand, and he doesn’t need to, because there is no way I would dare touch a pureblood. Even if his skin does look perfectly unflawed and temptingly…I shake my head. What am I thinking?

His breathing was so loud that it filled my ears, it was as if he was dragging air in and forcing it out with so much strength. Reluctantly, I shook off the fear which had taken over my body and walked closer to him, covering up the space between us but remained at a reasonable distance from him. "Pardon my manners," he said clearing his throat, "I'm Prince Richard, first son of King Harold and brother to Prince Charles the soon to be King of the werewolves." He bragged with great pride in who he was and I gulped. "I am an Alpha." He declared and I nodded with a nervous laugh but the look on his face made me get myself in order

Something Is Very Wrong Sixty-Eight: 3rd Person’s POV “Your job was simple. Get close to the Prince, worm your way into his heart. How did you mess this up so badly.” The High Elder glares at Char as he finishes raising the soundproof window between them and the driver. Char pulls her seatbelt over her shoulder without looking at her father. She knew what was coming. All he has ever cared about is establishing himself with as much power as he can. Never thinking of anyone but himself.

I ask curiously. "Oh, this is my favourite," Crimson says. "It's you at your engagement party." The world seems to shudder to a stop, my entire attention zeroing in on the photo. "I'm engaged?" I whisper. I better not be engaged to that older man... "Yes, of course." Crimson points to the younger man. "This is Vade, a Prince from Territory Five. You two were engaged the moment you were born. His father is great friends with yours." Nasuea twists in my stomach.

His size ment he hit the ground hard and I scrambled on top stradling him and pining him beneath me. "This isn't wrestling." he grunted. "I could easily throw you off Kayda." he added. "But you haven't." I grinned shifting my hips slightly. "Because I don't want to hurt you." he said. " get off." he added through gritted teeth. "Nope Prince Eoin." I smirked emphasising his title Prince and popping the P disrespectfully. "Besides you already hurt me so kiss it better." I smirked leaning dangerously low to him and pushing out my split lip.

Trying to hide his smile, he drank his water. "Prince," she called him. "Are you fucking with me?" The prince almost spat out his drink as he heard her words. "Am I what?" "I am asking if your just going to fuck with me." "Wha-I mean—why?" "Because, prince Hazan, I am not here to fuck around." "If you are going to just try and mess with me, just don't." "By that, what do you mean?"

Prince Cine grumbled and the Princess chuckled. Prince Cine was the only child of his parents and didn't suffer any works at all, he didn't even know how to hold a small broom so his complains was understandable. The principal intentionally gave them such works especially because of him so it would be easier for them to reflect on their mistakes.

Gentle waves lapped against the shore while a soft sea breeze rustled the palm fronds overhead. Aisha Hassan, a 26-year-old Zanzibari-Swedish spice trade heiress with smooth caramel skin, long dark curls, and a lithe yet voluptuous figure, stood on the private deck in a sheer white bikini. The warm breeze pressed the fabric against her hardened nipples and the growing heat between her thighs. She had come for a private escape. She found something far more consuming. The villa door slid open. Khalid “The King” Mwinyi, the world-famous Black Zanzibari music producer and resort mogul, stepped onto the deck. Towering at 6’10” with a powerfully athletic build, his dark skin gleamed under the moon

Three times the referee has reviewed it and found nothing. Because there's nothing to find. Whatever he's doing is surgical enough to be invisible on camera and felt only by the person on the receiving end. Their quarterback is rattled. He won't look at number four between plays. "Who are they?" I ask. Directed at no one in particular. And It's Marcus who answers. "Number Eleven is Noè Laurent," he says. "His family runs half of Europe's pharmaceutical trade. Polite as hell off the field. Completely ruthless on it."