My Dark Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Dark Prince Road)

One makeshift bed and one idiotic brother later, I slipped into the stall Briar Rose occupied. Sometime in our two minutes apart, she’d slumped against the wooden wall, a hand flung over the crate of books Seb had stolen on a whim.

Something about her belonged in a fairytale – the early chapters, where life hits the princess like a pile of bricks and she’s on the precipice of discovering what a bad ass she is.

Briar Rose had gotten real pretty in the last couple years. Impossible not to stare at, though I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly made her so different than the rest. Sure, she had a pert nose, and delicate brows, and heart-shaped lips, and eyelashes longer than a Dostoevsky novel. But I knew lots of beautiful girls, and none of them made my knees weak and my neck hot.

Like right now.

I unfastened a couple buttons on my dress shirt, pretending to listen to her read from one of Seb’s commandeered books. But really, all I could focus on were her lips. Specifically, how her lower one was so much plumper than the upper one, begging to be scooped into my mouth and sucked clean.

Cuddlebug crossed her legs, one foot dangling her slipper in the air. “Earth to Ollie. Are you even listening?” She slapped the yellow pages of the hardcover. A cloud of dust plumed from them. “You’re missing out on all the wild portions of the book.”

“Shit. I might’ve zoned out for a sec.” I blinked. Cleared my throat. “What are we reading again?”

“Sleeping Beauty and her Children.” She tapped the book with her finger and grabbed the half-empty wine bottle from the crate, stealing a small sip. “It’s a variation of The Sleeping Beauty, I guess. But I don’t like it.”

“Why not?” I rubbed the back of my sweaty neck. “I love it.”

I mean, she’d read it to me while I stared at her hopelessly, so I guess I liked it.

She narrowed her violet eyes. “You like it?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “What’s not to like?”

“Maybe that the prince rapes the princess while she’s asleep and impregnates her.”

“Oh.”

“Then, the King’s mom tries to kill the children and feed them to the King.”

Yikes.

I stole the bottle, forming words around its mouth. “I’m a sucker for complex families?”

“Sleeping Beauty literally gives birth while still in a coma.” Briar Rose’s mouth went slack. “This is not a fairytale. It’s Satan’s tale.”

I took a pull of the wine, setting it between us in the crate, tucked between the books. “I must’ve dosed off during that part.”

“I mean, holy hell, the lengths people went to back then for entertainment …” She shook her head.

“Remember … they didn’t have Netflix and pickleball.”

Briar Rose closed the hardcover and lowered it back inside the box, taking an extra moment to brush its spine one last time despite loathing its contents. Of all her quirks, I found this one the cutest. Ever since I started gifting her roses, she consumed any fairytale she could get her hands on. It occurred to me that she often hung onto my words and actions like they hid the secrets of the universe. As a kid, her attention made me feel ten feet tall. Nowadays, it stirred something confusing – even dizzying – inside me.

“Did you get my package last month? I almost gave up a limb for that copy of Marvelous Tales. Each time the auctioneer raised the bid, I imagined Dad beating me over the head with his wallet.”

Whenever I traveled, I always made sure to pick up a souvenir for her and ship it to whatever country her dad had hauled her off to at the time. Lately, I found myself sending over local versions of Sleeping Beauty. Other than their shared names, Briar Rose’s gentleness reminded me of the princess. Something about her dream-stricken eyes and soft-spoken words made me want to snuggle into her like a cozy blanket.

“I loved it.” She closed the box, biting her lower lip. “You got it when you went to Xi’an with Zach, right?”

“His mom would do anything to get him out of the house these days … even if it means sending him across the world with yours truly.”

We fell into silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. We never had a problem filling the silence. I didn’t know what made this summer so different, but from the second I caught Briar Rose hovering off the edge of the veranda in that flowing pink dress, I found it impossible to speak without saying something dumb.

She finally shifted her full attention to me, sizing me up and down with her eyes, a worried frown stamped on her face. “I guess it’s my turn to ask if everything is okay.” Her hand squeezed my knee. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Cuddlebug got her name a decade ago when she decided she couldn’t go ten seconds without hugging or touching me. At five, I found it exasperating. We’d be in the middle of wrestling, kicking dirt, whatever, and she’d randomly stop everything to give me a soul-squeezing hug. I hugged her back, of course. I wasn’t a mean kid. I didn’t understand why she did that until the summer before middle school. Briar Rose held me whenever she could because she never got these hugs at home. To her, I was the closest thing to family, and it fucking ruined me that her parents sucked so hard.

And now, here she was, her hand on my knee, mere seconds away from milking the truth out of me.

What’s wrong is I want to kiss you, and I can’t stop thinking about it, I wanted to say. What’s wrong is I hate that you live so far away and maybe you should come and live with us. It’s not like your parents are gonna care.

I still didn’t know how Briar Rose’s parents didn’t love her. I just knew that they didn’t.

She was more lovable than anything on the planet, Nutella croissants included. They were the problem. Not her. Never her.

Cuddlebug sank to the ground, hugged my leg, and placed her chin on my knee, looking deep into my eyes. “Well?”

My entire body rioted with so many feelings I thought I’d vomit. Joy, and panic, and desire and … fuck, things I couldn’t even describe.

I opened my mouth, unsure what would escape it, when the distinct crackle of crunched leaves interrupted us. Our eyes widened, snapping toward the entrance in unison. Thank fuck for the towering stall walls. Between the Auers and the von Bismarcks, I didn’t know which set of parents would kill us and which would bury the bodies if they caught us in here with enough booze to sink the Titanic. I just knew it would be a joint effort – and that it would end with Mr. Auer trying to slip Dad a business card like he did in our mailbox every summer. (The Auers didn’t actually care about underage drinking. They cared about the scandal it would bring to their name. Dad and Mom, on the other hand …)

From the next stall over, Sebastian released a comically loud snore. That asshole was born to piss me off.

Two pairs of feet stirred across the dirt outside the barn. Briar Rose clamped a hand around my calf as the hushed voices of a man and woman pierced our sanctuary.

Shit.

I’d left the sliding doors open, not expecting any unwelcome visitors.

Seconds later, their shadows danced across the opposite wall. The larger silhouette balanced against the barn’s doorframe, lighting up a cigarette. Lazy tendrils of smoke curled past his lips.

“You know I hate when you smoke.” His companion stomped her feet. “You smell like an ashtray.”

Immediately, Briar Rose and I tensed, staring at each other in horror. We recognized the voice. Philomena Auer. Briar Rose’s mother. And the man? He couldn’t be her father. Mr. Auer only smoked cigars – he considered everything else trashy.

The guy brought the cigarette to his lips again, this time aiming the smoke right in Philomena’s face. “I’d rather smell like an ashtray than reek of bullshit.” His thick Texan accent sounded nothing like Jason Auer’s strong New York cadence.

Still slouched over my knee, Briar Rose peered up at me with huge helpless eyes. I pressed my finger to my mouth, signaling her to keep quiet.

Philomena swatted the smoke away. “Jason is not a bullshitter.”

“He’s a crook and a grifter, and he’s putting the entire family in danger.”

Danger? What danger? I could see myself skinning Jason and using his body as a blanket for Briar Rose if she needed me to. I never liked that guy one bit.

“He knows what he’s doing. Besides … what do you want me to do? He’s my husband.”

“He’s a twat.”

“A rich twat. Did you forget that I signed a prenup? You have nothing to offer me, Cooper, other than a slightly above average dick.” A guttural scoff soared past her lips, so unlike the forced elegance I’d grown accustomed to Philomena feigning. “You’re broke as a joke.”

“Believe it or not, Phil, but there’s more to life than money.”

Each sentence exchanged conjured a flinch from Briar Rose like the words themselves had struck her in the face with the force of a punch. I couldn’t blame her. Her mom just confessed to an affair.

“Don’t you dare judge me, Cooper. I’m doing what’s best for my kid.”

“Sadly not, considering the kid is mine.”

A whimper bolted out of Briar Rose’s mouth.

Fuck.

I scrambled to cover it with my hand, burying the scream I knew wanted to escape. He’d said it so casually as if he hadn’t just upended my best friend’s entire world. And Briar Rose … She froze, eyes locked on mine but not quite seeing me. Her nails remained lodged into the flesh of my palm, drawing rivulets of blood down my wrist. I could see the confession slowly – ever so slowly – sink into her skin, claw past the lump in her throat, and drill into her heart.

A tear dropped from her cheek onto my knuckle.

Jason Auer wasn’t Briar Rose’s dad.

This stranger was.