Crowned Upon

Chapter 1

Rosalie

She tipped her head back, reveling in the feeling of the liquid slowly burning through her insides. She closed her eyes, swaying suggestively to a beat in her own head as she let the warmth take over her body. It was her first and only shot. She only ever allowed herself one. Just enough to smell it on her breath.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a hell of a lot like the princess?" The guy who'd been eyeing her all night came up behind her, whispered into her ear.

Rosalie grinned devilishly before turning to face him. She placed her arms around his neck, moving their bodies together. "No."

The guy placed his hands on her hips, emboldened by her apparent enthusiasm. "The name's Brock. What's yours?"

Rosalie gave him her best seductive look. She could see the effect it had on him immediately. It was her eyes. It was always the eyes. Something about the dark green was so sultry, guys could never resist. "You don't really care what my name is." She answered. "And I don't care enough to tell you. So how about we skip all the bullshit?"

Brock stood speechless for a moment before Rosalie took matters into her own hands and leaned in to kiss him. He responded eagerly and soon the bumping bass and crowd of sweaty people disappeared. All she could feel was his lips, his tongue, his hands on her. They continued on that way, kissing while they grinded their bodies together on the dance floor.

She waited for it. To feel it. To feel anything.

She didn't. She never did. All she felt was numb and a little dizzy.

She pulled away from him. Brock. What a stupid name.

"You wanna go to the bathroom?" He questioned. Ick. The bathroom? Really?

What did you expect, Rosalie? Rose petals and candle light? You wouldn't even tell him your damn name. She extricated herself from this stranger. "No." With that she walked away from him, through the crowded dance floor, and out of the club into the cold night air.

It was early October, not actually very cold at all yet, but her teeny tank top did little to protect her from the nighttime breeze. She wrapped her arms around herself, listening as her heels clicked, strangely soothing, on the pavement as she began the journey home. She was secretly looking forward to her father's reaction to the jeans she was wearing. She wasn't supposed to wear jeans, especially not ones with holes and rips all along her long legs.

    After awhile she finally reached the gates that signaled home. Meyers, the head nighttime gate guard shook his head at her. "You're killin' me, Rosie." He signaled for the guard in the booth to open it.

    "That's your highness, to you." She joked as she walked through. They were long past the days of him calling her by her title.

    "You need to have security with you at all times." He repeated for the millionth time in her life, it seemed.

    "Nobody knew who I was." She assured him with the lie. He shook his head again. "Have a good night, Meyers."

She made her way through the palace, trying to find her father. It was nearing midnight, but he was probably still up. Sometimes it seemed like nobody in this damn castle ever slept.

"Jesus, Rosalie, this is the fourth night in a row. Aren't you tired?" She turned to find her twin brother coming towards her, accompanied by his best friend Kace Lincoln (Rosalie liked to think of him as more of a parasite. He was always around). Two guards flanked them. Rosalie didn't get personal guards, but James required at least two at all times. His life mattered.

"That's what the cocaine is for, Jamie." She retorted. "Keeps me on my toes."

Kace looked at her in disgust while James sighed in disappointment. "You're missing half of your outfit."

"That reminds me! Have you seen his royal majesty of late?" Rosalie asked.

"Why do you do that, intentionally try to make him yell at you?" James questioned.

"See you at breakfast." She turned, then looked back over her shoulder. "Actually, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be shunned to my room for a week." She added enthusiastically before click-clacking away, knowing she looked good from behind.

Not that it mattered. Out of the four men watching, one was her brother, two were strictly palace employees and therefore off limits, and the last  couldn't  stand to even look at her. But she prided herself on her ability to make an entrance as well as an exit.

After a bit more searching, she found her father in his study, with Mr. Lincoln, head of his security team and coincidentally the father of the most annoying person on earth.

"Hi dad." She greeted him.

He barely looked up from his papers. "Hm."

She paused before adding, "I just came to say I'm back." Not that he'd noticed she'd been gone.

She held her breath, waiting for the yelling. She'd left the palace without guards. She'd missed curfew. She'd drank alcohol. She'd kissed a stranger. She was wearing jeans.

"Alright." He mumbled, not even listening to her.

She stood there a moment longer before turning to leave. "Rosalie."

She turned and met his eyes, hopeful. "Yes?"

"If you see James, let him know I'd like to see him." He looked down again, dismissing her.

Rosalie  walked as quickly as she could to her bedroom. She shooed her maids away and locked the door behind them. In the bathroom she filled the tub with water as hot as it would go.

Turning, she examined herself in the mirror that spanned the entire eastern wall. Her skin was as smooth as silk. Her sultry eyes were the color of an evergreen forest. Her famous nose sat daintily in the middle of her face, slightly upturned. Full pink lips frowned over a set of stunning, straight, white teeth. Pure shining gold seemed to grow from her head, tumbling down her back in perfect waves. In short, Rosalie Carrington was beautiful.

And she knew it, too. How could she not? It was all anyone ever said to her. You're beautiful. Eyes followed her everywhere. Guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. Everyone noticed her when she walked in a room.

Well, almost everyone.

Shaking her head and wiping away a few escaped tears, Rosalie undressed quickly, climbing into the tub. Rather than lay leisurely, she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Her skin stung, but she didn't mind the pain. She was feeling.

Ahhh! I can't believe, after years and years of reading wattpad stories, and years of writing my own, too afraid to share my work, I'm finally publishing my very first story! I'm nervous as hell but finally figured I'd put myself out there!

Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think! Predictions, compliments, constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it all! Thank you so much for reading!!!