Reign: A Romance Anthology

by Nina Levine

  Her smile was slow but built, quickly becoming laughter.

  "Well," she said, leaning forward to kiss me. "It's a good thing you married the Queen."

  "Is it?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her tight against me. "And why is that?"

  "Cause this Queen always gets what she wants." She cupped my cheek. "And what I want is at least four times a day for the foreseeable future."

  And she sealed that promise with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  Katherine

  Munmeniar House, Summer Residence

  The near future

  "My turn!" The little voice demanded, waking me from my nap.

  "Shh," admonished my husband. "Mummy's sleeping, remember?"

  I grinned, remaining in our bed, listening for our daughter's no doubt demanding reply, inordinately pleased when she didn't disappoint.

  "But I want a go!"

  I reached for a pillow, stuffing it against my mouth to suppress my giggles as I heard Jon's belaboured reply.

  "And your sister had it first."

  "She always gets everything first!"

  My body shook with my laughter.

  "That's because she was born first. You were second, and the twins will be next."

  There was a beat of silence then Fiona— poor, dear, second born Fiona— decided she'd had more than enough.

  "I WANT MUMMY!"

  I sighed, pushing up, groaning as I struggled to get my pregnant body off the bed. "I'm coming, Princess."

  A scurry of footsteps followed my words, the herd of baby elephants descending.

  "Mummy!"

  My girls threw themselves on the bed, chattering a mile a minute.

  I nodded, listening to their excitement as I brushed at messy hair, and kissed cute little cheeks.

  "Can we go for a horse ride?" our oldest, Eleanor, asked shyly.

  "Not today," Jon told her, walking in to lift her up, tossing her into the air. She squealed, her legs kicking as he caught her easily, blowing raspberries on her neck.

  "Tomorrow," I promised, rubbing the swell of my belly. "You can all go and I'll follow in the car."

  "Now, I believe it's dinner time munchkins. And someone needs to go bring Nanna to the table. Who's gonna go find her?"

  "Me!" Fiona leapt from the bed, Eleanor following her as they dashed from the room.

  Jon slumped on the bed beside me, shaking his head. "I can't believe I let you talk me into another one." He leaned over, talking directly to my stomach. "And then one turned into two. Please be meek little mice, my children. I'm not sure I have the energy to deal with another lot of hellions."

  I sniggered, shoving at his head. "You love them."

  "I do." He surged up to kiss me. "But I love you more. Especially today."

  I chuckled, patting his cheek. "Poor baby."

  "Mm, I'm going to need lots of love later." He nuzzled my neck. "Good nap?"

  I nodded, leaning into him, groaning when his hand found my lower back and began massaging. "Oh, that feels amazing. Keep going."

  "Is that an order?" he asked, his lips against the shell of my ear.

  I chuckled, relaxing into him. "Always."

  "Well then, your wish is my command, my Queen."

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  "Come in."

  A maid entered, bopping a quick curtsy. "Ma'am? Dinner's ready."

  I groaned. "Thanks, Lou. We'll be there shortly."

  Jon stood up, reaching down to help me to a stand, bracing me as I swayed.

  "You okay, baby?"

  I nodded, closing my eyes. "Just a sore—"

  Water gushed down my legs, pooling on the floor.

  "Oh." I found his gaze, trying desperately not to laugh at the shocked expression on his face. "Are you telling Fiona we're not going riding tomorrow, or shall I?"

  He shuddered. "You. Definitely you."

  Hours later I birthed our sons into the world, both of them loudly proclaiming they'd arrived.

  Jon sat on the bed beside me, one son cradled in his arms, the other in mine.

  "I didn't think my heart could get any bigger," I whispered, running a finger down our son's tiny cheek. "And yet here we are."

  He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Are you happy, Kit?"

  I tipped my head back, tears shimmering in my eyes. "Blissfully so. And you?"

  He tilted his head to one side. "Katherine, you've given me four children, a beautiful life, and more joy than I'd ever hoped to experience. You are all I ever wanted, my Queen. Our life is more than I could have ever hoped."

  With tears wet on my cheeks, and babies in our arms, I kissed him, thankful every day that this man, this warrior, had chosen me.

  And I, in my infinite wisdom, had chosen him.

  Long live us.

  About Evie Mitchell

  Evie Mitchell writes short books for time poor readers.

  If you loved this little read, be sure to check out her Nameless Soul MC series.

  This series is raw and real with love stories featuring kickass women and the alpha men who love them. Hope you enjoy the ride!

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  Stardust

  Leesa Bow

  1

  Dustin - Brisbane, Australia

  It’s a click after midnight, and I’m walking the city streets of my new home.

  Home.

  Where the hell is that anyway?

  I’m not sure it’s here, except fate had other ideas, and so I am here.

  “Oomph,” I groan when I collide with someone not looking where they’re going.

  “Sorry, mate.” A skinny guy staggers sideways. He peers up at me, squints, shrugs his shoulders, then sticks a cigarette between his lips. “Do you have a light?”

  “I don’t smoke.” Cigarettes, that is.

  He nods as if it enlightens him. “Figured you wouldn’t being that tall.” He staggers off in the same direction he came.

  Well, this is a first.

  I can’t help smiling at not being recognised.

  The more I walk, the more sideways glances I receive, and I understand it’s at my imposing height. Even at school, I became accustomed to the double-takes and wide-eyed staring. Yet in Adelaide, recognition would follow with fans bailing me up wanting to talk football.

  For the seven years I’ve lived in Adelaide, I couldn’t even head out to buy a carton of milk without being pestered for an autograph or given advice on my next game. The southern states of Australia live and breathe football. Queensland is a rugby state, be it league or union, it’s irrelevant. Most don’t give two fucks about aerial ping pong—an underhanded remark about the game I love. The Australian Football League, or AFL, code of football is growing a larger fan base here in Brisbane, yet not enough to be harassed like I was before.

  Before.

  In life, there’s always a before and after.

  It’s the before that has me heading out tonight.

  At the end of the street, I turn the corner and stop at the Flying Fox nightclub. I pull out my phone and read the message from my teammate, Braxton, about mentioning his name to Todd, the security guard. I’ve never stood in line at a club, and I am not about to start.

  The dude at the door is huge across the shoulders, although not tall enough to look me in the eye. “Todd?” He gives me a curt nod. “Braxton told me to mention his name to you. I’m the—”

  “I know who you are.” He frowns, and it makes him appear pissed off, so I’m ready to take a step back. “All good, man.” He unclips the red rope and stands aside for me to pass. “Find Marty at the bar and tell him to give you a pass for upstairs.”

  “I owe you,” I tell him and slap his shoulder.

  “Give us a premiership, and we’ll ca
ll it even.”

  I chuckle yet understand why they traded me. The reason—Brisbane desperately wanted me and laid the dollars on the table. An amount too high for The Thunder to refuse. I assumed I’d play out my days with a club I bled for, but I should have known money talks more than damn loyalty.

  If experience has taught me anything, we are simply a number. A stat on paper. Nothing else. They believe I’m the man who will bring them the glory.

  No one fully appreciates the time to groom a team to reach stardom. Know each other like your brother. Every team member needs to prepare to give it their all. I’ve never played with any of these men, and yet they expect me to pull a miracle out of my arse in one year.

  I’m not Jesus, for fuck’s sake.

  Walking over to the bar, I introduce myself to Marty. He calls out to the security guard in the corner, and he points for me to take the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I reach the top where another guy dressed in black is speaking on the phone but looks up and says, “Hey, are you Dustin?”

  “Sure am.” I nod.

  “Go ahead.”

  With quick steps, I walk in and weave past the men in suits and girls in tiny skirts until I reach the bar.

  “What can I get for you, big fella?” A guy I could squish with my foot smiles at me as though it’s a joke.

  It’s not original or hilarious to state the obvious, dickhead.

  “A scotch, triple, on the rocks.”

  He pulls a face. “Righto.”

  I don’t even bother with a thank you.

  “You should try Bundy Rum,” the guy standing shoulder to shoulder with me at the bar says, and grins. “It might help you blend.”

  “Never worked for me before.”

  How on earth do you blend when you’re two metres tall?

  The barman slides the drink to me and turns to serve the next patron without asking for payment.

  This could turn into a mighty fine night.

  “So, Brisbane thinks you’re the answer to their prayers?” The guy next to me grins again. “What brings you here to this nightclub the night before your first preseason training?”

  Another surprise.

  One fan.

  “I wanted to get a feel of the city I’ll be playing for.”

  “My team is your old team. I’m stoked to meet you.” He shakes my hand. “I’m Cade. And the Thunder shouldn’t have let you go.”

  Don’t get me started on that box of worms.

  “They had to do what was best for the club,” I say in a rehearsed reply.

  “Yeah? I get to see you play here, so it’s a win for me.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” I down my scotch in one swallow, and since I haven’t moved from the counter, I hold up my glass, catch the barman’s attention and signal for another.

  Cade slides his empty glass next to mine on the wooden bar.

  I grin, liking his style. “What are you drinking?”

  His lips turn up in a smirk. “Bundy.”

  2

  An hour later, his friends arrive, and since he’s the only person I’ve met outside of my teammates, I hang out with them, especially when the chicks keep appearing as though there is an invisible magnet in the centre of our group. I continue to down triple shots of scotch, and in the moment, life seems uncomplicated.

  “Hey, man, there’s a party in the valley. Are you in?” Cade clinks his glass with mine.

  Fortitude Valley is close to my teammate, Braxton’s, house, where I’m temporarily renting a room. I figure I could party and still get home for a few hours’ sleep.

  “Sure, why not? So long as I get some rest before my first training in the morning.”

  He scratches the side of his face. “Your first training…”

  “It’s more of a team meeting and light session,” I state. The workout is not strenuous enough to motivate me to go home before dawn. Over the years, I’ve managed training with alcohol still pumping through my veins. A larger body can handle far more than the average guy. It’s what I tell myself, anyway.

  Four of us squeeze into a taxi and clamber out only a few minutes later. It would have been less painful to walk rather than squish like sardines. The house before me has no lights out front, even though the music pumps behind a high fence and a thick trunk of an imposing tree. Its snakelike branches twist toward a charcoal sky. I ignore the notion of it obscuring unwanted attention and follow Cade toward the house.

  “Watch the path.” Cade shines the light of his phone to a paved walkway, the pavers unlevel where the massive tree roots protrude. “Phoenix is all for nature’s traps to surprise unwanted guests.” He points to a smooth boulder positioned a few steps ahead. “Hate to count the number of people who have tripped and smashed their skull on that.”

  Hell, I can envisage the news…

  Drunken football star trips at party house…

  Cade leads me to a door beneath the house. The downstairs is enclosed. I doubt the craftmanship is legal, and when the door closes behind me, I realise why.

  The music blares from speakers at the back of the room. Along the side are beds with half-naked people going for it without caring who is witnessing their sexual acts. There’s a musky smell, damp and something else. Then I catch a whiff of smoke, and the aroma leads me to a group of men in the corner smoking—not cigarettes.

  “Who the fuck have you dragged in?” The inked man’s voice is squeaky as though someone has punched him in the throat. Only my eyes don’t trick me into believing his voice indicates a passive man. Both arms and his naked torso are marked with skulls, crosses and snakes, and his bare head is also black and blue with more artwork.

  In the next breath, I have a moment of déjà vu, reliving nights of pain when people and places like this helped ease the ache eating away my soul. Angels disguised in ink.

  Cade jabs a thumb in my direction. “Dustin Williams. The star ruckman Brisbane has recruited from The Thunder in Adelaide.”

  Squinty eyes survey me in a quick up-and-down assessment.

  “Relax, Phoenix,” he croaks.

  I hold out my hand and stagger. Shit, I’m drunker than I realised.

  Phoenix folds his arms over his barrel chest. “You trust this sasquatch?”

  That’s calling the kettle black when he’s only a half foot shorter than me.

  “Yep.” Cade taps my arm. “Come over here, and I’ll get you a drink.” He leads me to a bar along the back wall, and a gorgeous chick in a bra and tiny skirt offers a big smile. “Well, well, well. Fresh cock. Who is this?”

  “Piss off, Felicity. Get Dustin a scotch,” Cade spits.

  “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” The devilish grin makes her eyes twinkle with mischief. “I can do much more for your friend than simply getting him a drink.”

  “Scotch is good,” I tell her. I close my eyes momentarily, the voice of reason becoming louder in my head. The room spins and my eyes flash open. I take a step back when a brunette is only inches from my face. I’m trapped in a haze of gold, her eyes captivating me like no other. Eyes the colour of the scotch I love so damn hard. She lowers her gaze and runs a finger along my forearm, over the tattooed words where I wanted to slit my wrists when I was in my teens. Words to remind me to keep going and not fall into the blinding hole of darkness.

  “Interesting,” she whispers and meets my gaze. She takes the tumbler from the counter and hands it to me.

  I down it in one shot then ask, “Any filtered water around here?”

  A burst of a giggle shoots from her throat, and she muffles it with a cough to be serious. “Right. I can help you there. Come with me.”

  Gladly.

  “I’m looking after your guest, Cade. He needs filtered water,” she says, mocking me on the last few words.

  Cade shoots me a look, his brow furrowing. I’m too drunk to read into it, yet I grasp he’s uncertain with my decision.

  “I’m Star,” she says while taking my hand and leading
me out the back door, around a winding path to the stairs leading to a back verandah. I let go of her hand to hold on to both sides of the railing and hoist my arse up the steps. The sliding door leads us to a kitchen—nothing fancy—where the cupboards are all made of pine wood.

  She opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of cold water. “Just for you,” she says and smiles. She opens the bottle, hands it to me, and I down it quickly. Star grabs another, and I glug that one down as well, shuddering on the last mouthful from a brain freeze. Star opens and closes drawers in rapid succession before turning and smiling. “Ta-da.” She wiggles a clear plastic bag with white powder. “Is this what athletes prefer?”

  “Damn right,” I say and grin.

  This shit owns my heart.

  Especially today.

  A day in November, I do my hardest to forget.

  Every year since I was eight years old.

  It wasn’t until I discovered cocaine in my late teens that I could get through the day a little easier.

  She takes my hand and walks backward, smiling at me with her perfect teeth and red lips. At this point of the night, I mightn’t have full control of my actions, but even so, I recognise her beauty, and she is fucking gorgeous. Star turns and opens the door. When I follow her in, she kicks it shut with her foot, pulls her tank top over her head, then unclasps her bra so her porcelain breasts bounce free.

  Fuck, she is beautiful, and there’s no way in hell I’m stopping her. For a moment, I admire the ink on her body—a colourful sleeve on her left arm and swirls in a pattern under her breasts.

  She lies on the bed and sprinkles the powder between her perfect teardrop-shaped tits. “It’s up to you now.” She links her fingers behind her head, elbows wide, and waits for me to decide.