Romantic Hero Novels & Stories

“Liam is a bully. I don’t like bullies.” “Mhm,” he rose to his feet and moved to stand near the wall of greenery. “You are a hero.” “Me?” I was astonished. “Oh, no. That’s Tarragon. She’s the hero. I’m just… me.” “No,” he turned back and offered me his hand. His palm was warm and calloused against mine and his arm strong as he lifted me to my feet. He smiled down at me and reached out to stroke a lock of my hair that had fallen free of its braid back behind my ear. “You are a hero. Every villain needs a hero, and you’re mine, Daethie. I think it’s safe for us to get out of here. What do you think?”

His hands on my back, pulling me into him. I did realize that there are two sides to my Match: the royalty and the dreamer. And I just can't have the dreamer, no matter how much I like him–because yes, I like Caelum. A lot–I also have to accept the royalty and the world he lives in. "I don't have much to give you. But I will stand by your side…you as Prince Christopher and you as Just Caelum. My Caelum," I said.

But, this wasn't the subject right now. “Do you know what is the difference between a naive fool and a hero of justice?" She clenched her fist, a fierce expression on her face. "It's their strength. The first requirement of being a hero isn’t being right. It’s being strong. That’s why the hero always wins.”

He was murmuring something I didn’t clearly heard because I fell asleep the moment I released. My cheeks heated profusely. We’re still here at the guestroom. I look at my back, at his peaceful feature while sleeping. I can’t imagine him because so soft and such a cute guy while sleeping beside me. He always has this rough and ruthless facade that’s why I always adore his soft feature every time I have a chance to. And then my father’s voice lingered my mind. “Seduce him. Romance him. Make him fall in love with you . . .”

She knew that because she knew how he’d helped Roy resolve his issues with Aisha before they got married, and more recently, he’d been instrumental in Rhea and Nirvaan finding their happiness. He was indeed a perfect romantic hero—a fairy tale prince—even though he didn’t believe in love and romance. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure that he was even interested in her. Their conversations in the past had been rushed as if he was in a tearing hurry to get away from her. But today, he seemed rather calm and relaxed. Their conversation so far had been quite interesting and very honest. She liked that…a lot. “Maybe I like you enough to talk easily with you.”

The words struck her harder than anything else had that night. Emotion surged up inside her, overwhelming and tangled, a rush so strong she did not know whether she wanted to cry, to laugh, or to run and hide. She had wanted this for so long, had feared it just as much, and now that it was happening, she felt unbearably exposed. A wide smile spread across his face, bright enough that it seemed to change the room itself. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, reaching a hand toward her. He did not grab for her, did not rush the moment. He rested his palm on the bed between them, an offering rather than a demand.

He was my home. He pressed his forehead to mine, his whisper a gentle murmur of words I didn’t fully comprehend but felt completely. French words that flowed from his lips like poetry. “Mon coeur… ma vie… mon âme.” My heart… my life… my soul. Every word sent a shiver through me, melted me, convinced me of a love so strong it could conquer anything. I whispered back, brokenly, trying to match him: “I am yours. Only yours. Always.”

The heir to everything my family had been taught to hate, standing on my private sanctuary like he belonged there. He should have looked like the monster from childhood stories. Instead, he looked like every romantic hero I'd ever read about—tall and broad-shouldered in his perfectly fitted tuxedo, dark hair slightly mussed from the autumn breeze, golden eyes that seemed to see straight through my carefully constructed masks to the girl underneath. "Beautiful night," he said quietly, his voice carrying the kind of warm honey tone that made intelligent girls do stupid things. My heart hammered against my ribs as recognition warred with attraction and family loy

He didn't see the broken boy who had been traded like cattle for years. “Awwww, aren't you such a hopeless romantic.” I tried to tease as I stroked his chin. He caught my hand. “I've never been called romantic,” he looked down at my hand then brought his lips to kiss my fingers. “But I want to be a man you can love and depend on.” His words hit a nerve and my chest felt like it was being carved out by a blade.

The grinding metal sound scraped against my nerves. My eyes widened. "My lady, I'm your husband… Shouldn't we be spending our wedding night together?" A snort of laughter came from the players' table. A muscular man named James Gibson shook his head and said, "Never seen someone this stupid. You walked right into it. The ghost bride needs a human sacrifice, sure. However, she also needs a husband. And any player who becomes her husband gets chopped into pieces. She hates men the most." I had just escaped one death trap and walked straight into another!