The First Queen: A Shifter Romance

by K. M. Carnoky

  “I know that now. But I was getting sicker and sicker every day. My body couldn't handle the intense stomach pains, the raging head aches, and the waves of illness that made me feel like I needed to vomit all the time. Matthew convinced James that you and I should be separated at all times. I was so ill that I couldn’t even reject his choice. I just wanted to feel better. But being away from you made my wolf fade, made me weaker and weaker with every passing day. It weakened my desire to see anyone, and, with so many people in my life convinced that you were the alchemist behind all this, my father forbade me from speaking to you and even sending you letters. Eventually, it was hard to tell my weakened mind otherwise. Even James believed Matthew to a degree; we all did. Within a month, I was barely getting out of bed, and James had to support me when I dressed myself so I wouldn't tumble to the floor. I wasn't certain that it was you, and I never wanted to believe it was you, as only an experimenter would know how to mix those ingredients together like that. But you were the only person I knew that might have the knowledge to do that.

  “Then you were gone. James burst into my bedroom that morning, looking as upset as I had ever seen him. When he told me, I thought I would die from the pain in my chest. But I didn't send my men after you. I didn't want to drag you back here if you so clearly didn't want to be with me. I thought it would cause me more pain to force you to stay than it would to just let you go. But, in a few days, Ella showed up. She pleaded her case with me, telling me that she had only left me because she knew what her father was going to do, and she thought that if she disappeared, he wouldn't bother with his plans as she thought he was only trying to rescue her.”

  “And you believed her and gave her back her position and my ring,” I breathed, feeling tears well in my eyes. “I was replaced in a moment, wasn't I?”

  Archer's arms were suddenly flung around me, pulling me tight to his chest in such an unexpected and sweet gesture that I gave out a little whimper and automatically clung to him, desperate for comfort even though he had been the one to hurt me. It was a heartbreakingly unrefined moment for both of us.

  “No, Willow. I could never replace you. Ever,” he whispered fervently.

  It felt so good to be in his arms, to be speaking with him like this, but it all still hurt just the same.

  “But she had my ring. And she called herself the queen,” I sobbed, still clutching to him.

  “It was Matthew who persuaded my father to overrule me and allow her back into the palace. Matthew knew that my father had always loved that union, and, with you gone, he was willing to try anything. Ella took it too far. She had no right, and she knew it, but she didn't care. She needed to be in the palace to aid her father and his men in their attack, but she had always loved the attention she had received as queen. Matthew told me that I should crown her again, but I refused. I hardly saw her in the time she was here. I had no idea she had stolen your ring or your title or your gowns.” Archer eased me away despite my desperate hold. And, once I was at arm's length, he smoothed my hair tenderly and then brushed away a tear as it trickled down my cheek. “I know that I wasn't always a good husband, but I would never give you up like that. And James would rather die than let Ella be queen again. The instant he found out about Ella attempting to take over, he plastered posters of you in every village and city. He was adamant that if you didn't want to be queen, you would have to say it to his face a hundred times before he believed it.”

  It sounded very different from the James that had confronted me in the stables but very similar to the James that snuck me treats and joked around with me as we strolled through the halls. He had been torn between his duty to the king and his friendship with me.

  “You were still so awful to me when I was brought back,” I managed through a tight throat.

  “I know, and I regret it deeply now. But I felt that you had left me, abandoned me. My heart ached for you every day, but I was so furious with you because Matthew reminded me often that I was much better off without you. He convinced me time and time again that you had been trying to kill me, and, when you couldn't do it without being caught, you fled to be with your lover. I didn't believe the affair for one moment, but then I saw you with Andrew, and you said that you wanted him to propose to you. I loved you so much, and I always held out hope that something else had happened, like you had run away because you couldn't stand the food here or something foolish. But, there you were, with another man who wasn't part animal. Someone who could love you with no responsibility and no pressure. Someone who wasn't a king,” he breathed, staring ahead at the fire in the hearth. “And I honestly felt like I would die from the pain in my chest.”

  “I could never love him. Not in the same way that I love you,” I murmured. “He knew that. And I knew it too. I was just too hurt and too scared to admit it. I just wanted to be loved by someone the same way I loved them. When I didn’t feel it from you, I was shattered, and I was an utter fool, but I believed Ella.”

  “You loved me?” Archer gasped, those dark eyes glowing with contentment.

  “Yes. I still love you. I always have, even when I tried to stop it. Even when I wanted to hate you with everything I had in me.”

  “Willow, I'm so sorry about everything,” he rambled, grabbing both of my hands. “I know that I need to be an infinitely better husband. But I swear to you that I will do whatever it takes to be the best man for you. I want you to rule by my side and be the first queen of werewolves.”

  “And what will happen to me if I can't have your children?” I asked carefully. “Ella told me that you would kill me if I couldn’t produce an heir. You were furious when I wasn’t pregnant.”

  “What? That’s absurd. I wasn’t angry about you not having my child. I was concerned that we were doing something wrong or that you weren’t healthy enough to have children yet. I would never even think about hurting you. I need you. That's all. Everything else can be dealt with later. I will not force you to have my children, and I will not expect you to have them if you simply don't want them. No stipulations, no negotiations. Whatever you want, you will have, whether it’s a new horse or banning tea parties all together. God, Willow, the only thing I care about is waking up next to you in the morning. I want to spend my free time reading in the library or going out on rides. I want to see you every night for dinner and every morning for breakfast. I just want you.”

  “It won’t be easy to repair our relationship,” I warned.

  “Easy is the least of my worries. I will spend the rest of my days trying to please you.”

  This time, I was the one who haphazardly threw my arms around him, pulling him close to my body as I wept softly against his shoulder. His words made my heart dance happily in my chest, and, when he held me back just as tightly, I thought I could never be happier.

  “Yes, Archer, I will marry you,” I whispered, kissing his jaw ever so softly. “I will be your queen.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “Good morning, love,” Archer whispered tenderly in my ear. His voice was thick with sleep, and, with the small amount of light trickling, into the room, I knew that the sun had just risen.

  I let out a little mew in response and pulled the heavy blankets tighter around me, not pleased with the fall air that had settled into the bedroom but delighted nonetheless when Archer pressed his bare chest against my back and wrapped a strong arm around my naked waist. Waking up in his bedroom with him beside me had turned out to be one of the most wonderful things I had experienced, and though it had become quite common, it never seemed to get old. His soft lips pressed against my shoulder blade. I just laid there in a sleepy bliss until those gentle kisses moved to my neck—to the mark he left on my skin, his tongue sweeping against the sensitive area. I slowly pushed my hips back against his, feeling his hardness press against my backside. This was also a frequent perk of sleeping with my husband.

  “Now, Willow, we aren't married yet,” Archer scolded playfully, but the way he gripped my hip and leaned
back into me told me that he didn't really mind what I was implying. And not being married certainly hadn't stopped him last night.

  “We are married. We are just doing it right this time,” I corrected, rolling over to face him.

  His brown eyes swept over my face softly, and a tiny smirk touched his lips. His eyes were still half-open, half-asleep, but his fingers gently traced conspicuous shapes on my arms as he watched me, looking devilishly handsome. Too handsome to resist. And I was right: he was still my husband which meant that I had just as much right to him as before.

  So I pushed him onto his back and slowly moved on top of him, straddling him. He no longer looked sleepy, and I could feel him throbbing underneath my core, wanting me just as badly as I wanted him. I watched his reaction for a moment. It wasn't often that he allowed me to dominate. He usually liked to take control, teasing me until I begged for mercy. But, now, he seemed quite enthused with the progression of my actions.

  I leaned down and kissed him, slowly at first. He responded to the light touches of my lips immediately. His hands grabbed my back, and he tried to pull me closer to him while his hips pressed more onto me in an effort to get more satisfaction from the pressure and warmth my core provided. His eagerness made my heart rate increase, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him harder, more deeply, and to allow his member to slowly slide inside of me. It seemed that no matter how much I had of him, I always wanted more. I was never satisfied for more than a few moments. But I resisted the temptation to give us both what we wanted and moved my mouth to his neck instead.

  Though in the beginning of our relationship and our risqué endeavors Archer was always the one giving me the pleasure, I had now found how much I enjoyed returning the favor. I loved the way he so willingly turned his head, giving me better access to his neck, and the frustrated noises he made when I dragged my lips over his neck, not kissing or biting him, just teasing him with gentle touches. But when I did give his jawline a sharp but sensual nibble, he gasped and pulled me closer without a thought. I could feel his muscles tighten then relax as he waited eagerly for more. It was incredibly powerful to have control over his pleasure, and it made me feel tremendously close to him when I was able to give him something no one else could. I was his wife, his mate. I knew how to touch him, even without trying. It was almost instinctual.

  His breathing increased in rate as I trailed down his collar bone, leaving a line of kisses as I reached his chest. I kept my kisses soft and light, almost teasing him again. I could tell he was getting frustrated by the way he constantly tried to pull my hair or the way his fingers were digging in to my skin a little more. I felt every muscle and curve of his body as I went, starting at his chest and moving my way down to his stomach, going so slowly that it almost put him in a frenzy. It was amazing to watch him, so impatient but waiting nonetheless, never demanding more though he desperately wanted to. When I reached just below his belly button, I dragged my nails down his chest, scratching him from his collarbone to his abdomen, and his dark eyes burst open as he released a low groan, loving the pinch of pain as it mixed with intense pleasure and anticipation.

  After that, I paused briefly, knowing I should continue but not sure if he would appreciate the boldness. What I wanted to give my husband was not something proper ladies do, but when I watched him moan at my stillness, I decided that he would love my forwardness and my less-than-decent behavior. I slowly reached out, and I delicately traced my fingertip over his shaft. Though it was a start, it was mostly a small gesture to stall him, to keep him on the brink, as I figured out what to do next. Still, the light touch was enough to make Archer moan and dip his head backwards into the pillow. His large hands clenched the sheets on either side of him, and seeing his desire made wetness pool in my core as my confidence returned.

  I did something that few women ever did, much less royal women. Something that was hardly ever spoken of. I extended my tongue out as far as I could and slowly licked his shaft. When I reached the head, I carefully flicked my tongue, and I watched my husband's body buck up for more intense contact.

  “Oh God, Willow,” Archer panted.

  That was all the encouragement I needed. I took the head in my mouth, moaning at the salty, musky taste of him. He was rigid between my lips but so smooth and so easy to push deeper into my mouth. I closed my eyes and sucked, enjoying the taste of him, enjoying the feel of his shaft throbbing, and loving the way he moaned when I bobbed my head ever so slightly. Judging by the way Archer responded, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. I carefully reached out and held the base steady as I increased my speed, sucking harder as I went. His response only intensified. When I swirled my tongue around the head, he seemed like he was getting dangerously close to his climax. He even demanded more, but I silently denied him, just continuing at the same pace with the same pressure in the hopes that he would stay on the edge. After a very brief few moments, I mustered up all the self-control I had within me and slowly pulled back, letting him fall out of my mouth. Archer immediately stopped moaning and opened his eyes, frustrated and eager. I just slowly climbed back up his body, letting my small breasts brush against his member. He couldn't even draw his eyes up to my face; he just gawked at my chest.

  “I suppose you're right,” I whispered. “These types of things wouldn't be proper unless we were completely married.”

  Then, before my husband could complain, I darted off the bed and pulled on the nearest clothing I could find. It happened to be his clothing, but I hardly cared, yanking it onto my body without a second thought. Archer moved quickly too, desperate to grab me and take me as he so badly wanted. But I was faster. I was at the door so quickly, he scarcely had time to throw himself back down onto the bed and cover himself with a sheet.

  “I will see you at the altar,” I murmured, opening the door just enough for me to squeak through. I shot him a triumphant smirk then slid out of his room, giggling to myself over my victory. Archer also gave a breathy laugh when I shut the door behind myself. I was thankful that a single guard was stationed quite far away. Though he seemed curious, he wasn't flushed red with embarrassment so I deemed that to be a good thing and carried on to my own room.

  When I returned to my room, my maids twittered at the men's clothing that I had pulled onto my body and stripped me out of it so I could prepare for the ceremony. While they worked away on my hair, I was given time to ponder the past two months since I had agreed to marry Archer. Though Archer insisted on getting married almost as soon as I accepted, I pushed for us to wait.

  We had both been through a very trying time. Our worlds had become messy and disorganized, and, whether or not I wanted to believe it, it must've changed us both in some way. I just had to figure out if it had changed us for the better or for the worse. I hated to admit it because I did love Archer so dearly, but I needed sometime to rebuild my trust and—though he might've been blinded by enthusiasm—he also needed time as well. It was easy for me to think of all the cruel things that had turned me against him, but Archer had someone constantly whispering in his ear about how awful I was, and I had only justified it by running away like a coward in the middle of the night. I had teamed up with his ex-wife against him—even if it had been based on deceit. That must've hurt his heart, even if he denied it.

  So I carefully watched what Archer did, but I found no flaws in his behavior. He insisted that we sleep apart at night for safety reasons; however, it seemed that I was in his bedroom nearly every night. When I suggested I should leave, he would whine and hold me tighter. It seemed that he knew what logically needed to happen, but his heart refused. When I suggested we change the colours in some of the rooms, he just grinned at me, placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, and told me I could decorate however I pleased. Though flowers were no longer an option due to the cold, he asked the maids to make centerpieces during their free time and paid them handsomely for it so every room had a unique creation that was just as beautiful as any bouquet could've been. When we read togethe
r in silence, he wouldn't complain when Oatmeal crawled into his lap and began kneading his favorite trousers; he would just roll his eyes and smile. He even spent ample time with me in the stables. While I cooed over Jester, he would pretend to be occupied with a book, but I saw the carrots and apple cores he gave the beast. His eyes that I had once seen as so dark and emotionless were bright and kind when he looked at me, and the way he treated his servants and his guards was nothing if not sweet. He ruled fairly and allowed me to sit in the throne room with him when people came to him with pleas and demands. And, every night, after dinner, he would pull me close and tell me how much he loved me, how much he valued my input, or how wonderful he thought I was.

  In the end, it was no surprise that I was certain that no man in the world would suit me better than Archer, and I almost felt foolish for putting him through some kind of a trial period.

  “There you are, Queen Willow,” Jasmine said, stepping back from me now that all the work was complete. Her quiet words brought me back to reality, back to my bedroom.

  My blonde hair was pulled to one side. It tumbled down in elegant curls that nearly looked natural and lovely and sophisticated. Braids pulled back the hair on either side of my head to keep it out of my face. It added a flirty element to the elegant look while keeping it functional. A tiara was perched on top of my hair, matching the large diamond and pearl earrings that dripped from my earlobes. They had been a gift from Archer, and they suited my vision for my wedding so perfectly; it was like he read my mind. My eyelashes had been painted black. My cheeks were a soft warm pink, and my lips had a slight amount of red that made them stand out from my pale skin.

  I swept my hand over the beautiful dress that Isabelle made for me. The cream colour was not as harsh against my skin as the white gown had been during the first time, and as I was already married—completely—to the king, I didn't see a need to have a pure white dress again. I might've been a virgin then, but I certainly wasn't now.