This Week's Mystery Date:
Who: Prince Verrill
What Book He's In: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES, story: SINDARELLA anthology/fantasy/erotic
Where He Lives: In a fantasy kingdom of vampires, erotic pleasures, and witches' spells
Why He's So Fascinating: Powerful enough to attract the notice of 'Sinda's step-witches, there's more to Verrill than meets the eye--and he's certainly a delectable eyeful. And he's more than male enough to go neck and neck with the dangerous beauty who crashes the ball to save the man she believes little more than a shallow slave to his hand mirror.
A Memorable Moment with Prince Verrill:
Truly, the royal portrait painter deserved execution for the gross miscarriage of justice in every likeness of Prince Verrill I'd seen. This god wrought my understanding of his plight; had I been born to his visage I, too, would desire only to pleasure myself in view of the looking glass. Tall and sculpted, his hair was sleek, yet wild as the finest black steed. Eyes were the unfathomable jade of a churning sea. Indeed, the latter fixed me with a stare stirring new hungers, tossing what remained of human emotions like waves after a storm.
This storm was just beginning.
Shock subsided enough to allow dictates and my voice. Lifting heavy skirts, I dropped in a low curtsy. “I fear I'm naught for finery or the ballroom, sire.”
His nod bid me rise; his smile bid my desire aflame. “Yet finery clings to you quite naturally,” he said, gaze sweeping without fanfare to my breasts. “Though you seem to have forgotten some of it.”
He neared, gold tassels swaying from epaulets which capped shoulders a palm's width greater than my own. “Perhaps you were remiss in your excitement? Or did you wish to get a horse's gallop ahead of other maidens, by seeking me without your undergarments?”
My lip snarled. I recalled my true purpose here, and my true feelings. “I was neither, Highness. Merely in need of haste.”
And no longer disposed to modesty, but no doubt he would count this a personal testament.
“I've offended you.”
I raised my chin. “Not at all, sire. I came with all haste to see you, true. But for reasons you do not suspect.”
My chest gave an odd flip as he took my hand, my stilled heart trying to remember how to beat. “I can't say I'm not glad of it, whatever your reasons.” He frowned. “You're frozen. Here.” The Prince tugged a silk cord at his throat, releasing a gold capelet thrown across one shoulder. With the smooth flourish of a conquistador, he draped me in fabric.
I had no need of it, but smiled. “You're too kind, Your Majesty.”
“Lucinda Ella Fairbairn. Sinda.”
'Twas his turn to bow. “Come, Sinda. I would not have you catch your death.”
Truly. My smile followed his to a small chamber; small being relative to the palace. The parlor spanned the Manor's length, boasting more chaises than a carpenter's craft for a year.
Leading me by the hand, Prince Verrill brought me to a crackling fire. He took both hands in his, but 'twas his gaze warming me as gentle strains of a minuet stole through the open door.
Without pause for the rejection he'd undoubtedly never heard, he pulled me to him. Dance 'tis a genteel art, one my father tried to bestow. Alas, I proved early on I lacked a featherlight step. Yet my liege was in command of his talent. Giving me honors, he plié-stepped like a master. I moved with the grace of a wooden ox-cart. To his credit, the Prince showed no sign of it.
Circling, we twirled in to face each other at a close breadth, but instead of opening back out he halted, possessing my waist with his arm.
The name quivered low, as though my womb had awakened to possibility.
--from SINDARELLA, TWISTED FAYRIE TALES
When Verrill is Available: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES available now in print or ebook
How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Eternal Press Publishing