The prince's arrival twisted her stomach, sharp and cold. She hadn't felt at ease in his presence before now.. he'd followed her out here? Just when she craved a moment of peace?
"Prince Harry," she said, startled, eyes wide. "What a pleasant evening, is it not?"
He smiled. That glint in his dark eyes, too polished, too calculated, made her skin prickle. His tailored navy suit caught the breeze, sharp against the softness of the night. His both hands rested behind his back. His gaze, however, never wavered from her.
She swallowed hard. There was no one around . The ball still echoed with music, laughter, and no one would glance this far out onto the balcony. Especially not here, near the end, where thick curtains shadowed the entrance.
Her eyes flicked to the folds of fabric, then to the garden beyond. Was Dante nearby?
She hadn't felt this on edge with him. Dangerous as he was, his presence calmed her. Now, she found herself wishing he was here.
"You look startled," the prince said, stepping forward.
She stepped back. What does he want?
"I'm not," she murmured, turning away to face the moon. "I just... wasn't expecting company."
He shook his head and moved to stand beside her, fingers brushing the balcony's cold rail.
"No lady should be left unattended," he said, voice low, "not at this hour."
Heavens, what does he want?
"I'm not just any lady," she said, eyeing him from the side. She wasn't helpless. She'd trained with a sword. Her powers weren't perfect, but they were enough. Enough to protect herself.
"Of course, you're not," he said smoothly. "You're the princess. But you don't have to be alone."
Margaret stayed silent, eyes fixed ahead. Her fist clenched tighter at her side.
"Why are you out here?" he asked. "You should be inside, dancing with your suitors."
She sighed quietly.
"Remember," he added, voice firm, "they all came for you. You must make a selection."
Her jaw tensed. Who was he to tell her that?
"I must not," she said sharply, turning to face him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should return to the ball."
The stifling air inside was better than being near him—or any of the so-called eligible bachelors.
She turned to leave, but froze.
A hand gripped hers. Strong. Unrelenting.
She gasped.
Prince Harry yanked her toward his chest, his breath hot at her ear. His voice was low, deadly.
"Do you think I don't know you're running?"
She kicked at his leg, trying to break free, but he didn't even flinch. How had she forgotten? He was one of the strongest vampires, next only to her father's bloodline.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he locked his arms around her.
She winced. "What are you doing?"
The smile vanished from his face. His eyes darkened. "Accept me as your groom," he said coldly. "That is why I'm here. And it will happen."
She twisted, trying to pry his hand off her waist, but it was like trying to move stone.
"Let go of me. I have no interest in becoming your bride," she hissed, teeth clenched.
He chuckled, clearly amused by her defiance. "Oh, you will. I don't let go of what I want." He leaned in, his breath brushing her face. "And you, Princess... you are what I want."
Tears burned behind her eyes. She was strong—she'd trained for this, day and night. She should be able to fight back. But she had never been this close to a man before, let alone a vampire with such power.
Her heartbeat spiked. She struggled harder, twisting, searching the shadows.
Where was he?
Surely a shadow vampire was nearby.
But not just any.
She needed him.
Where was he?
He was supposed to be here...
Grhhhhh—
She slammed her free hand against the prince's chest.
He only laughed.
She looked up, into his eyes—and flinched.
She shouldn't have come to this ball.
Her parents had promised to handle everything. And yet—here she was. Trapped. Just look where it got her.
"Will you let me go?" she snapped. "Let go! I'm the Princess of Ravencrest—daughter of the ruler of your realm." Her lips curled into a forced smile, trying to summon fear in him. "Do you know what happens if you hurt me?"
"I wasn't going to hurt you," he murmured, stepping in even closer.
Margaret leaned back, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her against his solid chest.
She shrieked, thrashing in his hold.
"What are you doing?! Let me go!"
The music from the ballroom thundered behind them. Too loud for anyone to hear the commotion outside on the balcony.
She was supposed to be inside. When the music stopped, she would have to make her selection—choose a suitor. Or decline them all.
But here she was. Caught in the arms of a stranger.
A stranger who could very well hurt her.
"You're hurting me," she gasped.
His grip was like iron. No matter how she twisted, she couldn't break free.
Then his breath brushed her lips, and she froze.
It was cool—like the night wind. But unlike Dante, who made her heart race for reasons she couldn't name, this touch sent a cold tremor of fear down her spine.
"I plan to do this," he murmured, "instead of hurting you."
And then—his lips touched hers.
He kissed her.
At the exact moment the music stopped.
Margaret stood paralyzed. For one awful second, she couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't even push him away.
Her mind went blank. She had never been kissed before. She didn't even know how to process it.
No. She didn't need to process it.
She didn't like it.
A surge of anger lit up inside her. She shoved him with all her strength, her eyes blazing.
"How dare you?" she hissed, breathless, fists trembling at her sides.
He smiled. Unbothered. Unashamed.
"I'm afraid, Princess," he said calmly, "we've just created a scandal. And this... is one you can't run from."
"What?" she blinked, confused.
He stepped aside.
Only then did she see it—the crowd gathered near the entrance.
Maidens whispered behind their fans. Several suitors stared, expressions twisted with disapproval.
Oh no.
She wanted to scream—but no sound came out.
What will they think?
No... no. This is wrong.
Her gaze snapped to Prince Harry.
He wore a smug, satisfied smile.
His olive skin practically glowed under the moonlight.
And in that instant, her stomach dropped.
She realized exactly what he had done.