The Silver Eyed Prince (Highest Royal Coven of Europe) (21 page)

Mr. Beautiful Eyes himself.

Prince William stared at the astonished face of the girl in front of him. Her hair tumbled loosely down to her waist and she wore nothing, but a thin little nigh
tshirt that extended inches above her knees.

Sweet Lucifer!
If she always answered the door looking like this, he'd have no problem calling on her at any hour of the night or day, for that matter. He slowly bathed her figure with his gaze, lingering on her scantily covered curves.

Elizabeth gaped at the incredibly handsome Prince on her doorstep. His dark hair gleamed in the moonlight and his broad shoulders filled the narrow doorway. He wore dark jeans and a gray ribbed turtleneck sweater under his black leather trench coat. His eyes glowed subtly in the dark and at present, he was raking them over her state of undress.

“Y-your Highness!” She shrank back behind the door, conscious of her n
akedness. “What are you doing here?”

Prince William dragged his eyes from the female architecture he was admiring and focused on her face.

Hmm. For starters, I'd like to see your room,
he wanted to say, but he cleared his throat instead, and flashed her the crooked half-smile that made countless girls swoon.

He watched the blush climb up her cheeks in full rosy splendor.
Easy ...
he reminded himself,
Remember what Sophia said. Be nice. Stop dissecting her. You can do this. 

“May I come in?” he asked in a deep baritone.

“O-of course,” she replied, obviously flustered.

He took a step forward.

“No, wait!” she exclaimed, closing the door a fraction to delay him.

“You have company?” He glanced past the top of her head into the house.

“No,” she quickly replied, disconcerted. “But I'm . . .” She fidgeted helplessly and glanced down at her attire.

He arched her a questioning eyebrow, feigning not to notice her d
ilemma.

Hesitantly, she yielded. “I-I'm sorry, please come in.” She opened the door wider, peeking behind it and u
sing it as a shield to conceal herself.

He ducked slightly under the doorframe and e
ntered.

“Y-your Highness?” She colored into a deeper shade of scarlet from her neck to her hairline as he turned his gaze on her. “Do you mind waiting here while I get dressed?” She gestured at the sofa.

Yes, I do mind,
he thought to himself.
I rather like that shirt on you.
“Of course,” he replied with an innocent smile instead. “Go on. I'll wait.”

He pretended to head towards the couch, listening to her scamper away. A few seconds later, he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of her running up the stairs. His eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth lifted.
Nice legs.

Elizabeth ran as fast as she could to her room and closed the door quie
tly, leaning against the back of it.
Oh my God, what is he doing here?
A tide of apprehension crept at the back of her mind. Her mom would be back soon, but for now, she was totally alone with him.
What if?

But she couldn't possibly turn him away! If he took advantage of her like what he did in school ... could she possibly refuse him?
She stared at her reflection in the mirror on top of the dresser. Her cheeks were flushed and she had an odd sparkle in her eyes.

Liar!
She chided herself.
You want him as much as he wants you!
Her blush practically turned purple at the thought. She frowned at her thin nightshirt. He already had an eyeful! If she wanted to preserve her virginity, she better put on some clothes!

Downstairs, Prince William laid his coat along the back of the sofa, careful not to ruin the rose inside. He surveyed the small living room. The modest furniture and bare walls were enough to let him know of the limited income they lived on.

His jaw clenched. He wasn't particularly pleased with Elizabeth's mother for depriving her daughter of the privilege of her birthright.
Devil be dammed, but he would not tolerate having his future wife live like this!

His gaze drifted to the pictures atop the mantle. One had Elizabeth blowing her birthday candles, another had her opening the presents, and then one was a group pi
cture. He looked closer.
Humans.

“That was taken on my seventeenth birthday,” she said right behind him.

“Are these your friends?” He noted she'd changed into jeans and a blue-violet sweater the same color of her eyes.

She took the picture from the mantle. “Human friends,” she corrected and looked at him as if to see if he disapproved.

He maintained a neutral façade.

Encouraged, her lips curved into a smile. “This is Bryan, my best friend.” She pointed at the tall, han
dsome blond guy and proceeded to tell him about Bryan and the rest of her friends in the picture.

He patiently listened, marveling at how easily she opened up to him. Afterwards, they sat next to each ot
her on the couch and she pulled a photo album from under the coffee table.

She showed him pictures of Sue and her in their Halloween costumes, Vanessa, and the sagging Easter cake she baked, Anne and Charlie sledding in the snow, and Bryan playing volle
yball with her at the beach. “Sue shot this one and gave me a copy.” She touched the picture.

“It must be nice to have human friends,” he said, noticing with a twinge of jealousy the way she fondly ran a finger over the image of the guy named Bryan, and stared at his picture with a pensive expression on her face. “Not many of our kind have what you have. Not even me.”

She closed the photo album. “I've only known them for less than two years and I haven't seen them in a while.” She slid the book back under the coffee table. “They're the only ones I've got.”

“Less than two years? That's quite recent.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes wandered around the room. “That's about how long we've lived here.”

He sat up in interest. “Where did you live before?”

“Oregon, for four months.”

“Four months? Where were you b
efore that?”

“Colorado, for three months, and before that it was Texas, six months. We moved there from Chicago.”

He frowned, troubled by what he heard. “How many times did you move before coming here?”

“Oh, I can't remember.” She sighed. “We've been living like this since I was little.”

He watched her toy with her hands, a knot of anger churning in his gut.
How could her mother let her go through this?

“And since that time you never had friends? Bo
yfriends? Anyone?” He subdued his rising temperament.

She shook her head. “No, it was just me and my mom. I gave up trying to make friends, and God—, ha
ving a boyfriend would be the worst disaster!” She chuckled hollowly. “It's pointless, really. I'll lose them all anyways after a few months. It'll just make leaving more difficult.”  

He felt the defeat in her heart in spite of the indi
fference in her voice.
So! She'd rather push away any kind of personal relationship than endure the pain of losing it.
All at once, everything became crystal clear.

“But you have friends now,” he a
ppeased.

She nodded. “My mom said we're staying.” Her eyes lit up for a m
oment, darting to the pictures on the mantle. “But then again,” the bleakness returned to her countenance just as quickly, “nothing is permanent, right?”

“I disagree,” he replied with ce
rtitude. “There's one thing that will never change no matter where you go or what circumstances life would bring.”

She lifted mystified eyes at him.

“Unconditional love, Elizabeth,” he spoke softly, “it will never abandon you.” He searched her face and reached out to caress her cheek gently with the back of his fingers. “Don't be afraid of it.” He peered at her in encouragement. “Okay?”

She sat quietly, transfixed in his gaze. He could hear her deliberating in her thoughts, as if his words had opened new possibilities she'd never considered. Su
ddenly, her face shone with a ray of hope and she nodded.
She understood.

They sat in silence for a little while more, until the newspaper boy's bicycle passed by.

Prince William sighed and glanced at his watch. “I have to go,” he said, “but first, I wanted you to have this.” He reached for his jacket and pulled out the white rose. “Please—, accept my apology.”

“F-for what?” She raised bewi
ldered eyes at him.

“For everything.” He paused and lowered his head, calming his nerves that suddenly sprang out of nowhere. “My impudence, arrogance, nasty te
mper, ill manners . . .“ He gave her a tortured look. “Did I forget anything?”

Elizabeth looked completely befuddled. “No—, I-I think that's good enough.” She blushed, and then quickly added, “I should apologize too.”

“For what?” he asked, incredulous.

“For what happened in Combat class.” She bit her lip and avoided his eyes. “For any hurtful thing I said, a-and for stomping on your foot.” She appeared so contrite with her last deed that he couldn't help but shake his head and smile.

“What?” Her eyes widened with concern. “D-did I forget anything?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I accept your apology.” He took her hand in his. “Do you accept mine?”

She trembled at his touch and nodded, beaming tremulously. “Apology accepted.”

He sighed with relief and pressed the stem of the rose in her palm. He closed her fingers around it, and then clasped her hand between his. “Eliz
abeth—,” he drew slow circles with his thumb on her wrist and fanned his lashes upward, regarding her intently. “Do you think ... we can start over?”

Her expression softened. “Y-yes. That would be nice.” The pink on her cheeks brightened. She dropped her gaze and leaned forward to smell the flower. “Thank you for the rose, Your Highness. It's beautiful.” 

“Call me William.” He gently raised her chin with his forefinger. “William Erik Darkcross.”

“William Erik ... Darkcross,” she whispered his name, as if savoring the way it sounded.

“Elizabeth Hamilton.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “It has been a privilege to meet you.”

Their eyes connected as the sun rose in the horizon. Its gentle rays filtered through the windows, enfol
ding them in its golden embrace. Prince William squinted at the intensifying light. “I really ought to go,” he said with a trace of regret, rising to his feet.

Elizabeth nodded and followed him to the door, watching him don a pair of unusual aviator sunglasses tinted to a flat black.

“Don't hurt your eyes. I'll let myself out.” He reached out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I'll see you in school,” he murmured, and then walked swiftly out the door, shutting it with a soft click behind him.

Elizabeth stood right where he'd left her, her thoughts in disarray.
Who was that guy? Whatever happened to the pompous, irrational Mr. Mockery who constantly annoyed and frightened her?
  

After all the mishaps in the short time she'd known him, she'd never thought this side of him existed. The gentle, caring, and sensitive guy, whom she had spent the last hour with, made her insides turn and her heart melt. He was charming and easy to talk to, listening p
atiently to her as if she was the most interesting person in the world.
Oh, she really liked that—and she liked him very much. 

Truth be told, she had wanted him to kiss her like he did in school, and twice, she thought he would. But all he did was brush his lips on her fi
ngers and look into her eyes, which made her quiver just the same.

She smiled and inclined her head towards the rose in her hand, touching the dainty white petals to her nose. Something was happening between them. She could feel it. She could sense the jolt of electricity, sparking and si
zzling whenever they touched.

A rash of apprehension spread over her, unsure of how to handle all the foreign emotions he invoked. She rea
lized that this side of him—, the sweet, beautiful guy she had just met—, was more dangerous to her poor little heart than the high and mighty Prince himself.

The Angel of Death

       Colonel Alec Gunter drove away from his vantage point a few houses away, as soon as daylight trickled through the trees. Everything had just taken an interesting turn. He had seen the black Lamborghini drive by him earlier, minutes after he dropped off Elizabeth from school. The unmistakable plate number
,
WLM XI
V
confirmed it belonged to the Prince.

Now what in the blazing hell would prompt Prince William XIV to pay a visit to
Elizabeth—, a mere tainted girl?