The Dark Prince

She grabbed a brush and picked up my long, black hair, running it through her fingers. "He'll love this too, you know."

I scoffed. "No offense, but I hardly care about whether or not my new captor likes the way I look."

"Captor?" she repeated. " The Caliphate has to be a step up from the human lands at least, no?"

I shook my head slowly, fighting the tears that clouded my eyes" Will my kingdom be saved at all this?

"Our kingdom will ensure no harm happens to your empire. The werewolves aren't as cruel as the humans might have told you, you know."

She spoke matter-of-factly, but I wasn't entirely sure I could trust her. I wasn't sure I could trust any of them.

"Well one good thing about The caliphate is the drinks, so please drink up. We both know you're going to need it," she chirped, passing me a crystal glass of clear, bubbly liquid. I had never been into drinking, mostly because of my father. But today, I would be an idiot to object.

"Here's a piece of advice, though," she continued. "This is the same liquor you have in the human lands, but don't drink anything else tonight. The Werewolves has special drinks that will be way too…powerful for you. So, stick to this stuff."

"Thank you," I said to her, noting her warning. "Really, thank you for being nice to me."

"Of course, darling. You've been through enough already. Now let's make you beautiful. It is your day, after all," she winked and tapped her glass against mine. I took a small sip of my drink. The liquid was sweet and light. It burned in my stomach, but it was better than the ball of nerves I had been trying to ignore.

Amanda worked through my hair for what felt like hours before moving to my face. Her touch was gentle, which I was grateful for. She didn't ask me about the scars on my back or the recent bruise on my face, although her hands worked extra carefully when she addressed those areas. She spoke to me about the traditions of weddings in the caliphate, and about everything I should be expecting today.

She didn't mention the fact that I might die. I didn't ask.

Hours later, I stared at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. Amanda was definitely magic, after all. My hair looked just as perfect as hers, jet black instead of fiery red. My skin was spotless. I was still pale, but she had covered every flaw. Hidden every scar. I looked…pretty.

And my dress was more magnificent than anything I could have imagined. It was pure gold, not white like I had expected. The silk fabric hung to my thin curves, a tight corset giving me a figure I never knew existed. I had to admit, with the exposed back and the low neckline, I was showing more skin than I ever had in my life. But as Amanda had said, the werewolf world was different. She had actually called this dress modest.

"One last touch," she said, walking toward me with a white gift box. "This is for you. From your future husband."

My stomach sank. "How generous," I mocked, lifting the lid to the box. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw what was inside.

It was a knife. A black, perfectly welded steel knife with a delicate, artistic handle.

Emotion rumbled in my chest.

"You like it?" Amanda asked.

"It's perfect. Absolutely perfect."

And I meant that. I didn't realize how exposed I would feel without the knife I had lost with the wolves last night. This was a massive upgrade.

"Well, I suppose I can't send you to the vipers without some form of protection. Just promise me you won't use it on me!" she joked.

I laughed with her and hiked up. Amanda helped me strap it to the inside of my thigh. As if a simple blade would protect me from the Werewolves.

I took a deep, shaky breath.

"You ready?" she chirped. "I'm sure everyone is dying to meet you!"

I smiled and nodded. "Am I allowed to say no?"

She laughed and hooked her arm through mine. "You'll be fine," she insisted. "But a piece of sisterly advice? Don't trust the other brothers. I love my family, but the boys have minds of their own. Especially when it comes to wives."

That last part I knew.

"Dimitricus said the prince would keep me safe. Is that true?" I asked.

She thought for a moment before answering. "If my brother is around, you'll be the safest human in the kingdom."

I let go of the breath I was holding. Amanda seemed genuine enough. If she was warning me against the other princes, at least she wasn't entirely full of shit.

"Can I ask something of you, Amanda?"

"Of course, you can, honey. What is it?"

"If this goes badly…if I die today…will you ensure my empire will be at peace with yours? That's what I –".

"Yes, the prince will. Of course, I will. You mustn't worry about it anymore, okay? You have my word. Besides, everything will go perfectly."

I blinked once. "I hope you're right."

We walked through the massive stone hallways, our heels clicking the porcelain floors in dreadful unison.

I tried not to stare at the pure magnificence of the compound. The walls, which were so tall I had to bend my neck to view the top, were covered in artistically crafted black molding and green vines. Every detail was created with perfection. The vines weaved across the walls as we walked, arching around every massive window that let in a perfect amount of sunlight.

It was beautiful.

Beautifully horrific, I reminded myself. These walls were my jail cell, as gorgeous as they may be. This compound was no haven. It was filled with evil and torture and malice. It housed the worst family in the entire kingdom.

These beautiful details were no more than a facade.

Amanda walked me to a pair of massive black doors. My future husband and the rest of the werewolves were on the other side, I could feel it in my bones. I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders back. If the Prince of the caliphate thought he was going to get another ignorant human wife who would kneel before him and thank him for killing her, he was terribly wrong.

I wasn't going out that easily.

The massive doors swung open.

"You'll be fine," Amanda whispered to me. "I'll find you after the ceremony."

I nodded at her, but I was frozen where I stood. Hundreds of people filled the ballroom, everyone now staring directly at me.

I forced myself not to shiver, now very aware of how much skin was showing.

I kept my eyes on the floor directly in front of me. The room was silent. I was certain everyone could hear how fast my heart was pounding. Werewolves could hear that stuff, right?

It didn't matter. Keep moving forward, I told myself. Move forward and stay alive.

I walked down the aisle, a gold dress flowing behind me until I arrived at the front.

"Well come up here, girl, we don't have all day," one of the men at the altar said. I had to look. I had to lift my head and lay eyes on the werewolf prince that was going to ruin my life.

When I met his emerald eyes, I nearly vomited.

Standing in front of me, waiting for me to arrive at the end of the aisle, was the man I would spend the rest of my life with.

He was dressed impeccably in a blue tunic decorated with red designs and gold embroidery, while his hair flowed widely against his shoulder.

He was a jarring shock to the senses.

I'd never seen a werewolf prince before, but I'd pictured what one ought to look like.

Scary, body filled with furs, unattractive and bitter.

Good heavens! This man decimated every stereotype I had in mind.

This starched blue tunic failed to conceal his hard physique, his sculpted forearm and the definition continued through his broad chest, legs, and his whole body.

What scrambled my brain, however, was the outrageous perfection of his face. His chiseled jawline that looks crafted like a piece of art.

His gorgeous looks didn't diminish the warning iced in the air around him. There was something off about him, something in his expression that triggered the alarms in my head.

There, standing on the opposite side of the aisle was the rumored Dark Prince. The Prince of the Caliphate.

My soon-to-be husband.