RedBedSheets

Madeline Colter despises her country, Grandor, home to the most conservative and racist people to exist, the only country to reject people of other species while having a half-vampire prince. But when the prince comes of age and every woman in the country is forced to participate in a competition for the position of queen, Madeline is dragged into it. 

She expected to be failed immediately, not that she'd meet with the so-called feared prince and realize they may not be so different after all.

Alexei, known as the fearful war monger prince, feels little affection for anyone. Ostracised among nobility with his only protector now dead he has to pick a queen to ascend the throne. What he hadn't expected was to meet a girl that would make him realize how touch-starved he truly was. 


—————————-


I stared at the people below me, all their faces enamoured with awe as they beheld me. I was a commoner moments before, but here I sat- a crown atop my head.

I felt his fingers squeeze my hand and tried to stop my flinch. His red eyes boring into the side of my face. I knew he was grinning from ear to ear. I knew he had set all this up for me. Not to show me. But… to warn me.

Thousands of eyes leered at me and I knew what was to come would be much worse than what had already happened.

“Long Live the King and his Queen!” The chants began and I could feel a prickle in the corner of my eyes.

“Do not cry”.  His cold words were warmer than the finger that brushed my eyelid. My eye stilled and slid toward him. “This is all yours now. Just as much as it is mine. A country in the hands of those who hate it. Let’s ruin it all”. The fire burning in those eyes shook my core.

“Long… live the king” I said slowly and deliberately, watching his smile stretch further.

“Long live the queen”. 

———————-

I looked at the massacre around us. There was blood everywhere… why didn't he care for that?

"Why do you want mine?" I asked curiously, face turning pink when he lifted his intoxicated eyes towards me and his face was flushed, lips panting. It sent a strange thrill through me to see a man of such power on his knees, practically begging.


"I want all of you. Everything" he laid a kiss on my skin, breathing in the scent.

Warning: slow- burn R18

The Monsters First Love

My gaze narrowed as I watched the puppeteer, in one hand a doll with long pieces of yarn escaping where the top of the head may be presumed to be. But to me it looked like an unfortunate sock. Beside that doll another doll, this time more like a sock replied.


"Because it is she who has captured my heart!" The other declared and I snorted, earning a glare from my grandmother.


"You can not truly expect me to enjoy such silly folly" I replied, eyes tied to the way the two puppets interacted. 


The way the puppeteer was so professional in the face of royalty, except the occasional out of tune pitch he made. He was something like a jester, someone to make light of the heavy atmosphere in the palace. Some old Grandor tradition that was looking to die out soon.


"You seem to be experiencing love so I thought you would enjoy this" she replied, more of a grumble under her breath, contrast to her usual crisp voice.


"It isn't love" I lazily replied, eyes set on the puppeteer. The way the puppets did as he wanted them to. 


"How could it not be? A royal infatuated with a commoner?" The dowager cared little for who heard, be it the puppeteer-or her right hand man. 


"She is not simply a commoner" I protested, finding myself irritated at her quick dismissal.


I pursed my lips, containing myself as I replied.


"She is someone who can change Grandor…" I knew that wasn't what I wanted to say. But I didn't want to think of her blood at that moment. It made me feel strange.


"I do not doubt it" the dowager's words cut through the puppets play and he stumbled, thinking she addressed him and then continuing when he realised she hadn't.


But his behaviour bought forth the memory of Madeline also mistaking the dowagers command as directed at her that day. It made me smile unprecedented. Then frown as I caught myself.


"It is not love at all. It's more along the lines of fate, maybe even destiny" I looked again to the play, there was a death scene, a wooden sword piercing the hairless sock as the long haired sock cried over it.


"Destiny? That's quite melodramatic of you" the dowager chuckled.


But I heard none of it as I watched the longer haired sock plunge herself with the same sword that killed her lover. 


Chapter 47