Abducting the Princess

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by Mel Teshco


  “There are some things you need to work out for yourself.” She sensed his upheaval at the memory of her decision. “Only when your wedding day arrived did I know I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

  She turned toward him, wishing she could see him through the stupid darfe. “So you really are kidnapping me?”

  The carriage abruptly lurched to a stop. “That depends,” he said huskily.

  “On?

  “On whether you want to be with me forever?”

  There seemed little point in lying. She’d have fought him off, screamed her lungs out if she’d felt any other way. “You know I do.”

  His hand squeezed hers before letting go and untying her darfe. She turned away as it fluttered free and for a moment all she saw were roses upon roses twined around the carriage window and door.

  Her pulse thudded erratically. Somehow she couldn’t look at Mahaya. Instead she leaned forward, heart in her throat, and peered out the carriage window. Her people stood silent outside, almost breathless, until they saw her.

  A cheer suddenly rang out, thunderous after the thick silence.

  All breath left her lungs when she slowly turned to Mahaya, wide eyed. He was dressed in an off-the-shoulder, royal rakkia robe that flowed to mid-thigh, a cinched belt revealing double fighting rods and a sheathed sword. “What’s going on?” she whispered, though her frazzled mind somehow comprehended what he’d managed to achieve against all the odds, despite an inner voice telling her it couldn’t possibly be true.

  His smile lit up his eyes. “I thought you might prefer our wedding to be here, where the larakytes palace was rebuilt.”

  “Our wedding?” she squeaked, though everything inside her knew it really was true.

  He pushed open the carriage door and alighted before proffering an outstretched hand. “That’s right.”

  Only once she’d stepped off the carriage did he drop onto a knee before her—before all her people—and ask in an emotion filled voice, “Mira, will you marry me?”

  She wanted to pinch herself, just to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. She wanted to scream with joy and throw in some hand-to-feet acrobatics. Instead she said hoarsely, “Yes.”

  His eyes filled with love and telling moisture when he asked, “And will you say your vows; become my wife today?”

  “Yes,” she repeated on a breath, before looking up at her people’s rapt faces and yelling, “yes!”

  If the people’s cheers were loud before, they were deafening as Mahaya got to his feet and drew her to him. He kissed her with a possessiveness that left her reeling and hungry for so much more.

  Her inner panther growled approval even before he led her through the crowd who parted before them. She experienced a weird sense of déjà vu as her mind went back to the first meeting with Mahaya, when he’d led her through the crowd, forcibly that time.

  Her face broke into a wide smile. Her people had known best right from the start. They’d allowed Mahaya to take her, known he was protecting her from the dissenters.

  Her people hadn’t turned a deaf ear to rumors, they’d known what she hadn’t. Mahaya was a good, honorable man who wanted only to do right by her.

  Her eyes met Jarvias’ stare as he stood in the crowd. Her smile dimmed, before she realized his eyes were warm with affection. She had no idea of why his change of heart, until the male soldier next to him laid a proprietary hand on his shoulder.

  Her eyes went wide even as her smile broadened into a grin. It all made so much sense now! Little wonder Jarvias’ affections had been lukewarm at best. He might have found her attractive, but not anywhere near as much as his male friend. And to think she had planned to marry him in the sole hope to bear children. If she had, she might still have been a virgin ’til the day she died.

  The king and queen stood hand in hand beside the altar, beaming with pride and ready to give their blessings.

  Evidently Mahaya and the great King Judas had reached an understanding in relation to their mutual nightmix genes.

  She glanced up at Mahaya with a wobbly smile. She had no doubt the strength he and her father had in common would be passed onto their children. Because it was with sudden clarity that she understood having a family to keep the royal lineage going had only ever been meant to happen with Mahaya.

  Her nightmix lover.

  About Mel Teshco

  Mel Teshco lives in rural Australia with too many animals, too many children and not enough hours in the day to write!

  Her loving husband is in training as a real-life hero and waits patiently to retire on the success of his wife’s writing.

  Mel welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

  We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email the author directly or you can email us at [email protected] (when contacting Customer Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

  Also by Mel Teshco

  Alien Hunger 1: Galactic Burn

  Alien Hunger 2: Galactic Inferno

  Alien Hunger 3: Galactic Flame

  Carnal Moon

  Discovering Sofia

  Enraptured

  Kallie Revealed

  Lusting the Enemy

  Moon Thrall

  Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 1 anthology

  Winged and Dangerous 1: Stone-Cold Lover

  Winged and Dangerous 2: Ice-Cold Lover

  Winged and Dangerous 3: Red-Hot Lover

  Print books by Mel Teshco

  Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 1 anthology

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Abducting the Princess

  ISBN 9781419945144

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Abducting the Princess Copyright © 2013 Mel Teshco

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design by Erin Dameron Hill

  Cover photography by LOYA-LA/fotolia.com, Andrei Vishnyakov/dreamstime.com, Istvn Hjas/123rf.com

  Electronic book publication December 2013

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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