Story cover for Royal by euphoricputhy
Royal
  • WpView
    Reads 30
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 28m
  • WpView
    Reads 30
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 28m
Ongoing, First published Jan 27, 2017
Mature
"Want me to kiss it better?" He smirked at me, raising his eyebrow. Like a predator stalking his prey, he stepped dangerously close as his frame suddenly towered over me. His eyes said so much yet so little; like an open book with blank pages; like a box of chocolates that you just couldn't open. This time, I wouldn't let him have the upper hand.

This time, I didn't step back.

I smiled mischievously at him as my hand went to the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to mine, "You wish, Princess."

_______

Quinn Abernathy was an average girl who lived in the small town in North Carolina. She loved her family, her best friend, her little dog Toto, and her boyfriend.

Everything was just right.

Till one day her world came crashing down. Everything took a turn for the worst, leaving behind a broken Quinn who struggled to pick herself back up. Knowing she couldn't let this get to her, she started a new life for her and her brother.

Little did she know things weren't over yet.

Maddox Adara, the soon-to-be King, was not your average Prince.
He found every reason to not be in the castle fulfilling his duties as heir to the throne- running off to his own safe haven every chance he could, escaping the Royal Guard to wander the city streets, and sneaking out just because he wanted to. He just wanted to be a normal person... not part of the Royal Family.

Too bad he was sort of a douche.

Running to North Carolina as another one of his escape antics, what happens when the spoiled Prince runs into a sorrowful Quinn?

Constant bickering, my friend.
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In a quiet, misty district of Himachal Pradesh, in a small orphanage called Sparsh Ashram, lived a fragile, gentle girl named Ishara. Her eyes held a quiet innocence, untouched by the harshness of the world, yet shadowed with a deep, unspoken sorrow. When she was only four, her stepfather-the one who had once called her his life-had left her. He discovered she was the product of her mother's betrayal, and in his heartbreak, he turned away. Since then, Ishara had grown up in the soft, lonely halls of the orphanage, her heart tender, her spirit delicate, carrying a pain that even time could not erase. At fifteen, she was still small, almost like a fragile bird in a vast, unkind sky-beautiful, innocent, and quietly brave. .................................................................................................... ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨