You're not scared?

For centuries, my family was taught to hate the Cross's. That the Cross's are born from hell and all they'll ever bring us is misfortune. For centuries, my family, the White's have been at war with them. Countless wars were made and endless blood was spilled by both our hands. Blood of villains and the innocent; it didn't matter. Blood will always spill wherever we go.

Both families, after five centuries of hatred, have finally come to terms. In order to end the eternal war between our families, they've decided to wed me, Angelique White, to the heir of the Cross's, Prince Damien Cross. They believe that by combining our houses we might have a shot at a peaceful life.

I've met Prince Damien twice. Once when I was seven at their first attempt to sign a peace treaty; and second during the battle that shed hundreds of civilians. I will never forget that day. It was dawn and we were standing at opposite ends. He stood tall and brave. He had their signature brown curly hair that ended at his shoulders, ocean-blue eyes, and the physique of a worthy warrior. He wore the strongest armor made of the most expensive steel in the world.

He looked me dead in the eyes as he raised his blade, signaling that the battle had begun.

Upon the minute he raised his sword at me, I did not hesitate to strike him down. His arrogance became his downfall. He fell back while my foot rested atop his chest and my own blade against his neck. At that moment, everyone knew that the battle was over. He was my hostage; no one can dare attack us.

As I took off my helmet, he was more than stunned to see me—a woman. I let the wind blow through my long black hair as he stared deep into my big dark eyes.

Today, our parents arranged for us to meet formally. No guards, no staff, and no weapons. Just us two in the private gardens of the Palace of Spring—the home of a mutual ally.

My ladies were instructed to dress me in the finest of silks and lace. In the end, I was dressed in a wine-red gown that was adorned with diamonds. My hair was left loose with the royal tiara sitting atop my head.

I haven't seen the prince since my victory. I am certain I gave him a scar just above his chest after I struck him mercilessly. I am more than certain that the man loathes me as much as I loathe him. We may have but one thing in common—we both hate the match our parents have forced us into. Despite my wishes, I have no other choice but to fulfill my duty as a princess. Everyone seems to believe that our union would bring peace to our lands. I happen to doubt it.

I waited impatiently by the lake, staring at the swimming ducks. What kind of prince comes this late to an arranged meeting? He surely isn't earning my respect.

"What an arrogant ass," I muttered to the wind.

"I am," said the voice behind me.

I turned to face the prince who was standing right behind me. He looked well. I suppose he healed from when we last met. He's wearing the colors of his house and his family crest over his left chest.

"You're late," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

He looked a bit astonished but kept his cool. He inspected me from head to toe as though he was studying me.

"You look like a girl," he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Was that an insult?" I shot back, rolling my eyes. He came here late and had the audacity to insult me; what a boy! He's certainly not my cup of tea.

He sat on the park bench and gestured for me to sit beside him. He had a sinister smile planted across his face that would either scare you or seduce you.

"I heard that you were opposed to the idea of our union," he said, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way."

I sat next to him, still feeling the desire the strike a punch. I didn't like him at all. Not his attitude nor his sarcasm.

"I'm Princess Angelique White," I introduced myself, "The person who defeated you in battle."

"I didn't know the White's would send their precious princess into battle," he comments, "I'm Prince Damien Cross. I'm supposed to marry you tomorrow."

"I'm eighteen years old," I said, "And how old are you?" I wasn't fond of him, but I was instructed to get to know him before our big day tomorrow so that's what I'll do.

He looked bored and uninterested. "I'm twenty-one," he replied, "Are we really doing this? You know that we could just pretend that we talked, right? We don't have to do what they asked us to. It's just you and me here."

"They expect something to happen between us," I said, "You and I both know that. They are so eager to force us into marriage that they're willing to push us into doing something unholy."

My family didn't say it, but they want me to seduce him into bed. The sooner he puts a baby inside me, the more certain they are that peace will come.

His sinister smile only grew wider. He was probably thinking of it at this very moment. I could see it in his eyes—lust. He wants me and he hates it.

"I can wait," he said, caressing my neck with his fingers. I couldn't explain the sensation I felt upon his touch, but it felt wrong. He's the enemy.

"But," he says, moving on to my chest, "I can give you something today in return for what you gave me that day." Before I knew it, he was right on top of me, holding me by my neck.

I wasn't scared. I didn't react either. I just sat there in an intense staring contest with him.

His eyes were possessed by something. It's like a demon took over his body. He inched closer, our faces just a breath away from each other.

"You're not scared," he commented.

I chuckled, smirking at him. "I am a warrior who isn't scared that easily," I said, "Tell me, Damien. What will you gain? NOTHING. You won't get anything by going on top of me. You mean to scare me? Even if you do something, we're expected to do it tomorrow anyway; I won't be frightened. I'm not like the whores you take pleasure in daily. I'm a princess."

"I know that," he says, releasing me from his grip. "I don't wish to touch you; believe it or not."

I bit my lip. I loathe him, but somehow I feel captivated by his touch, by his breath, his stare, and the way he talked. He was undeniably sexy. Everybody knows that he is. It's no secret that he's a stud. He leaves women in tears wherever he went, and tomorrow I'm bound to marry him.

"Here's something you must know before we marry tomorrow," he says, "First of all, this is nothing but a political alliance between our kingdoms. This is nothing but a means to end a war, therefore you cannot expect love in this marriage."

"I know," I said, "Don't expect love from me either."

"Second," he says, caressing his chin, "We're married in name only. We need to fulfill our obligations as husband and wife, therefore you must provide me an heir."

"That's obvious," I replied, "Anything else?"

"You answer to me," he said dead in the eye.

I chuckled, saying "No. I answer to no one. This marriage requires equal respect. Everything I do, you must do as well. I am not obligated to do whatever it is you command me."

He smirked, tracing his thumb over my chest, "We'll see, shall we?"

Without any warning, he crashed his lips into mine. He tasted sweet like candy. I didn't know how to react. It was the first time I'd ever been touched. All I know is that I didn't want him to stop no matter how much I tried to fight it. His hands traveled all over me, leaving not a single spot untouched.

A moan escaped my lips, earning a smirk from him. His lips traveled from my mouth all the way down to my neck. His hand made its way down to my thigh, making its way up to a very sensitive area.

"This is too easy," he whispered in my ear, chuckling. His fingers proceeded to caress me in that area as his lips continued to plant kisses down my neck.

I wanted to push him off me, but my body refused to comply. It's like a different person took over me. His every touch was like ecstasy and I didn't want him to stop.

This is all wrong, I told myself. But I was completely blinded by passion.

"Do you want me to stop, Princess Angelique?" he whispered, still caressing me in that spot. His voice was like an aphrodisiac. "Your name doesn't suit you at all, princess. An angel wouldn't let a devil like myself touch her," he teased, releasing me. He licked his fingers dry with a satisfied smirk on his face.

I got up, wrapping my arms around my chest. I was out of breath and red. I didn't know what came over me. How could I let him touch me like that? I should be ashamed of myself.

His sinister smile—I found it so alluring. The sneer on his face states his triumph for him. That power he had over me… It was different. I totally lost consciousness.

"You tasted sweet, Princess," he says arrogantly, "What happened to your pride? I thought you were not like everyone else?"

"I hate you," I said, keeping my arms around my body.

"I didn't force you to do anything, Princess," he said slyly, "You didn't ask me to stop either. That's just a taste of what's to come tomorrow, Angelique. By tomorrow, you'll be completely mine."

"I thought you didn't like me," I glared, still in shock at what just happened.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You don't like me either," he says devilishly, "Taking your innocence—having this power over you—is a good enough revenge for the scar you gave me. Taking you, knowing how much you despise me will be a treat." He licked his lips, staring at my cleavage.

I noticed a purple mark just above my collarbone. I covered it with my hand, feeling so ashamed of myself.

"I never thought I could loathe you more than I already do," I said with all honesty. With all the strength I could muster, I punched him hard in his abdomen.

He sneered, chuckling. He could feel the wrath within me and yet he stayed so effortlessly calm. He sat me down, placing a jacket over my shoulders.

"Tomorrow, when the moon arises and shines over everyone, the wedding will take place," he said, "Be prepared to put on a show. We need everyone to believe that our union would bring peace."

"You don't believe that," I said.

He nodded, saying, "You don't either, yet here you are. You came here obediently. On-time even. I watched how eager you were to fulfill your duties." He brushed his fingers through his hair, "Tomorrow will be an important day in history."

His smile vanished from his face. I could tell that he was serious now. With a straight face, he said, "You better not have cold feet tomorrow."

I stood, tossing him his jacket back. "It's you who shouldn't have cold feet," I said before walking off. This meeting was a waste of time. He is a monster. An arrogant, disgusting monster. And I'm going to marry him.