My Prince Charming - A Steele Fairy Tale

“Why are my dresses not hanging in color order?” Demi adds, launching an empty wooden hanger in my direction, but her terrible aim sends it through the one window in my room, shattering the glass over my bed.

“Mom, Ella broke the window,” Ana hollers like a banshee. Great. Now I’m going to lose the rest of the money I have to fix it even though it’s not my fault.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Demi sneers, venom practically seeping from her teeth like the evil snake she is.

I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who broke my damn window,” I argue, which I know isn’t going to do me any good because they don’t like me defending myself at all.

“It’s our house and our windows. You should have done your chores, you lazy whore.”

“I had to work early this morning, unlike you,” I remind them. No one else works. They live off my father’s life insurance and the money he left behind to help care for me, although I’ve never seen a penny of that money.

“And you couldn’t have done it last night?” my stepmother says from the bedroom door. I turn to look at the older woman with her cold, elegant appearance, dressed as if she was a millionaire. She has a look of loathing on her overly made-up face.

I feel my throat tightening and my eyes begin to tear up, but if they see me cry, things will only get worse. I haven’t cried in a long time, and I won’t be that weak. “Why are you standing in your underwear? Were you flashing the neighbor across the street?”

How dare she! I’m so tired of all of them, and I let it slip out of my mouth. “No. I was changing when your slags you call daughters barged in my room.”

“Bitch,” Anna screams, charging at me. Her hands slam into my chest, sending me backward and falling onto the bed with my head hitting the wooden windowpane and my arm digging into a shard of glass. I scream when the large piece pierces my arm. Standing up and away from them, I pull out the glass, squirting blood everywhere. Quickly, I wrap my arm in the nearest shirt and then make my way out the door, snatching my bathrobe from the hook on the back of the door.

Without a backward glance, I run out of the house before they finish what they started.

I’m sprinting out of the house so fast that I accidentally run into the street. Mrs. Godley, my next-door neighbor, nearly hits me with her car. The brakes screech and my hand hits the hood. She jumps out and runs around to see if I’m okay. “Oh, my dear. I’m sorry. Let me get you to the hospital.” She helps me into her car and drives. “What are you doing running into the street in your bathrobe?”

My head begins spinning from the blood loss. I don’t know how to answer her, so I mumble something unintelligible.

“We’re at the hospital,” she says, pulling up to what I assume is the ER, but I’m kind of confused. Running inside, she calls for help. I open the back door and stumble out. I don’t get more than a foot before I fall and hit the ground.

The next thing I know, muscular arms are wrapped around me, picking me up. “Princess, you need to be careful.”

“Dr. Prince, we’ll take her.”

“No. I’m already covered in blood,” he growls at them. Something about the way he snarls out commands sends a shiver through me. Then again, maybe it’s the loss of blood.

“My prince,” I whisper, collapsing in his arms.

Waking up, I hear an annoying beeping noise that’s getting on my nerves. Suddenly, my left arm itches like crazy, so I reach to scratch it. As soon as my nails hit my skin, I scream from the burning pain.

“Whoa there, Princess. You need to take it easy. Does it itch?” God, that voice is panty melting and as my vision clears, the face matches. He has bright blue eyes which are in stark contrast with dark hair that looks like he runs his hands through it a lot. I want to run my hands through it. My eyes move further down, inspecting my hero, and I must be higher than a kite because his pants have a massive bulge in just the right spot. What is wrong with me?

“Yes. What happened? What’s going on?” I exclaim, trying to get my head out of the gutter.

“Do you remember anything? Do you know your name?” His questions come out with an urgency that confuses me. His pretty light eyes are frantic and I want to reach up and wipe away the look of concern. He’s too handsome to be upset. “Princess?”

It takes me a moment to process what he asked and then I finally find my voice. “Yes, Ella Collins. I got cut with glass.” I’m feeling lightheaded and euphoric suddenly as I breathe in his masculine scent.