The Cruel Prince Jude Novels & Stories

"His family runs half of Europe's pharmaceutical trade. Polite as hell off the field. Completely ruthless on it." "Twenty two?" "Audric Sterling. Old English money, He's been in three separate disciplinary hearings this year and walked out of all of them without a single mark on his record." "And number four?" A pause. "Zian Castillo," Marcus says. "Half Spanish, half Korean." Another pause, heavier this time. "Don't get on his bad side." "Good to know." "I'm serious." The warning itself is off character for someone like Marcus who clearly seems to hate me.

“The king had another son, much older than me and Haydn: Thander. Don’t you remember him?” Thander. Right. The prince who had died decades ago in the war. Jules would have been embarrassed by forgetting about the existence of a prince of his country, except his mind felt so hazy right now he could barely remember his own siblings’ names, much less someone else’s. “In my defense, he died before I was born,” Jules muttered, trying to gather his thoughts. But it was so difficult. Westcliff smelled so good. Jules wanted to press his mouth against that chiseled jaw and suck, find out if Westcliff’s skin tasted as good as it smelled. Jules moistened his lips with his tongue. Focus, Jules. “So you

Standing right in front of me is the devil himself. "The princess is awake!". He sneered. "You son of a bitch! How dare you! Untie me now!" "Hahahahaha, stop struggling princess, it's of no use. Anyways, you look beautiful, as always, you're looking hot". He said as he squat in front of me before untying my hands.

the chef handed Mikhail a knife and a basket of potatoes asking him to help him peel it. Mikhail had tried following in his brother's footsteps, yet it still felt like something he could not imitate. What could define a prince? It was an open ended question that he too was unsure of. However, to always remain hidden behind a mask of perfection... It was something he couldn't do. He was imperfect and incapable of acting as intended by William. Speaking of princes, it reminded him of how there was a rumour from long ago in a town he had stayed in many years ago of a young prince from a foreign land. Unlike most prince, he was unrefined and preferred to live out his life to the fullest.

"Is that the reward for my bravery?" "Yes, but..." The Prince placed the transparent bottle in his left hand while his right fingers hands touched my face. He stroked my hair, then my ear, my cheek, my nose, and finally, his thumb brushed my lips. "Think about this carefully, dear. Do you know what happens to a lifeless body? It rots, bubbles up, and is eaten by worms. That will also happen to your young, pretty body. You are still very fresh and sweet, only twenty years old. Don't you want to continue your life? Don't you want to meet the love of your life? So many beautiful things and happiness that you can't miss. You're sad and sensitive now, but your sadness will disappear in a few mont

He has not yet had to stare death in the face, he still has a modicum of hope. “If you truly surrender, pay restitution for your theft.” The Prince declares. “I will happily give all the money I have, though it is not much.” “I have no desire for your coin, peasant. Your coin is insignificant to me.” The Prince sneers. “What can I give your majesty to prove my loyalty.” The Prince looks to his cousin, standing in the crowd of observers in court. “Your life.” The Prince replies flatly, a hint of boredom in his tone. Before the words can even register, his throat is slit and his blood stains the floor.

Whispers spread like wildfire. “She can’t control her son.” “How could she even control her son when she’s a babe-slayer herself?” “Such a disgrace for royal blood…” “Princess Ava the Cruel gives birth to Prince Cavil the Crueler.” “Poor Ansel. That boy is a danger to everyone here.” “I will have your tongue if anyone says any libelous word against the royalties!” Jared drew his sword sharply at the murmuring crowd. Meanwhile, Cavil stood frozen, his chest heaving with raw emotion. His bow trembled in his hand. He felt remorseful that Ansel had a cut and bled—not because he struck him, but because he deserved it.

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?"

“I’m just scared for her. We know nothing about this man and he said she would make a great pet. Kurt, is he going to treat her like an animal?” “Let’s hope not. Riley did tell me that man was the Lycan prince. Not many Lycans exist,” My forehead creases. “He’s not a werewolf?” “He is just stronger and different. I don’t know much Riley just said he’s different and way stronger than a werewolf, he’s even stronger than the king of wolves,” My stomach tightens. And my chest squeezes.

A long dark cloak rested over a polished armor scarred by several battles. His black straight hair reached the base of his neck, and there was a faint scar on his left jaw signifying that he has fought countless battles. His silver-gray icy eyes made the whole room fall into a thick silence. Without saying a word, he walked towards the royal platform and each step he took echoed like the heavy stomping of the guards. The nobles stood up and bowed to him except for one frightened noble who said, “wow, he really came”. Without asking anyone, I knew that he was Alpha Magnus Thorne. The most feared ruler of Blackthorne fortress, the king’s younger brother, and the man whom everyone refers to as