Royal Mate

by Juniper Hart

  Poet threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply as the crowd erupted into a sea of applause.

  “They think we’re putting on a show for them,” Poet giggled. “Imagine how disgusted they’re going to be when they realize that we are going to be like this forever.”

  Maximus’ heart paused at the word. “Hopefully,” he murmured. “Hopefully forever.”

  “Stop it,” Poet scolded him. “Ruby will find a way.”

  Maximus forced a smile, but before he could answer, a sharp bark at their feet caught his attention. Chauncey growled angrily and yapped at them.

  “Do you think this mutt will ever get used to me?” Maximus laughed, leaning down to tease the Cocker Spaniel. Chauncey barked louder and backed away as Maximus’ palms neared his face.

  “He’ll come around,” Poet assured him, eyeing her pet with affection. “He still has to get used to the idea of sharing my love with anyone else.”

  But Maximus was no longer listening, his gaze fixed on the small dog. As Chauncey bared his teeth, his breath caught in his throat.

  “Poet,” he whispered, pointing at the animal. “Look…”

  She turned her head to glance at where he was looking. “What is it?”

  Maximus could not speak, watching as Chauncey’s eyes began to glow a bright amber, his tail becoming elongated.

  “Oh, my God…”

  Without thinking, he snatched the dog under his arm and bolted down the beach, Poet in hot pursuit, the train of her dress trailing in the white sand.

  “Where are you going?” one of the guests called. “It’s almost time for cake!”

  “We’ll be right back!” Poet promised, hurrying after her husband as he rounded the cove.

  It was not a moment too soon: the small animal began to transform before their eyes. His fur exploded into an armor of scales, a tiny shriek escaping his mouth now filled with razor-sharp teeth.

  “Holy shit!” Maximus gasped as Chauncey flew from his arms, his wings protruding from his back as he flapped over the beach. “He’s a dragon!”

  Indeed, the small dog had become a creature unlike anything Maximus had ever seen, his body pumping against the wind as he screeched at them in defiance.

  “How—how did this happen?” Poet questioned, but Maximus had no answer, only a sweeping sense of hope.

  “Maybe from when he bit me?” he thought aloud. He and his wife exchanged a look, Poet’s face registering the same burst of encouragement that he was feeling.

  “If Chauncey can become a dragon,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his, “then there must be a way for me, too.”

  Maximus nodded, his eyes transfixed on the beast flapping about almost comically.

  “We need to find Ruby and bring her Chauncey,” he choked, and Poet laughed happily, tears filling her eyes.

  “We’re going to make this happen,” she choked.

  For the first time since they had returned from visiting the witch, Maximus was filled with a true sense that they would be safe.

  If Ruby could figure out what had turned Chauncey, she could find a way to transform Poet, too. And if Poet was a dragon, King Rui would never be able to touch her.

  He may even learn to embrace her, given her royal blood, Maximus thought hopefully, though that might be a long time coming. First things first: Poet’s safety.

  “Get your dog,” Maximus instructed. “We have to get back to Ruby.”

  Poet looked at him with huge, excited eyes. “We’re going to be together forever,” she whispered, her face filled with awe.

  “We are,” he assured her. “Just like I promised you.”

  Poet buried her face in his chest, tears spilling down her cheeks, and Maximus stroked her back, staring out into the ocean as the dragon-dog swept through the salty air, learning his newfound powers.

  Maximus could finally appreciate the glory of the landscape, because it no longer held the threat of Rui appearing on the horizon.

  It’s over now, he thought, exhaling sharply as he held Poet tightly against him.

  “No tears,” he mumbled teasingly, kissing her forehead. “We have everything now.”

  Poet pulled back and wiped her eyes, smiling up at him.

  “Oh, you fool,” she laughed. “We had everything from the first minute you found me.”

  And Maximus realized that she was right.

  THE END

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  Thank You

  Thank you for reading my book. Readers like you make an author’s world shine. If you’ve enjoyed this book, or any other books by Juniper Hart or another author, please don’t hesitate to review them on Amazon or Goodreads.

  Every single review makes an incredible difference. The reason for this is simple: other readers trust reviews more than professional endorsements. For this reason, indie authors rely on our readers to spread the good word.

  Thank you very much! I am giving you a virtual high-five!

  Juniper Hart

  Secret Woods Books

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  About the Author

  Juniper Hart is a romance writer from the Midwest, who loves telling the insta-love tales of werewolves, dragons, and other paranormal heroes. She specializes in sweet and short alpha romances that always promise a happily ever after.

  Juniper resides in Miami, Florida with her husband and rambunctious blue-eyed son.

  Find out more about Juniper Hart at SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Bonus Shifter Stories

  By Alexis Davie, Lucy Penn & Juniper Hart

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Juniper Hart

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2018

  Publisher

  Secret Woods Books

  secretwoodsbooks@gmail.com

  www.SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Bonus Content: Enchanted Werewolf

  By Alexis Davie

  Part I

  Werewolf Spell: Enchanted Werewolf - Book One

  By Alexis Davie

  1

  Cara Stone typed on the keyboard of her laptop, sprawled out on her bed in her apartment. Her fingers flew across the keys as a thunderstorm boomed outside her window. The sound of rain inspired her, drove her to write more and more compelling characters of passion and play.

  The chilled rain splattered against the window, soothing her as the rich sound of Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” came from a little portable speaker that an ex-boyfriend had given her and forgotten about.

  A bolt of lightning crackled through the sky loudly from a distance away, barely visible from the skyscrapers that surrounded her apartment complex. Someday, she’d be a famous writer. Eventually, she’d work up enough courage to finally publish. She’d been working on several novels for, what, five years? She’d started writing the summer after she graduated from college. Most books took about the same time as a baby to grow in the womb—n
ine months. This was kind of funny to her. But after all the time she’d spent laboring over them, they were like her children. This one was especially close to her heart. She cared for it. Cherished it. That was probably why she had so much trouble publishing.

  Cara always tried to use her life experiences as inspiration for her novels. In this particular one, she used the death of her parents to convey the raw pain of losing them through words. The coroner said they hadn’t suffered after the car accident, and their deaths were quick. Although that was supposed to be comforting, she didn’t hurt any less.

  Writing was a sort of therapy for her, one that was less expensive and more relaxing. Putting the words on the laptop helped her work through the memories in a healthy way, all while maybe making some money if she ever found the courage to actually contact a publisher.

  To publish the story and put herself on the line like that was troubling to say the least. She’d never been the first one to jump into the front of the line and push for what she wanted. She had always patiently waited her turn. Someday, it’d be her moment to publish a book. Until then, she’d just write on and on.

  Cara zoned back into writing her story. Thunderstorms calmed her. She wasn’t sure why, but they soothed her and took away the memories of her stupid job at that damned newspaper. Her boss loved to criticize Cara’s writing. Everyone else thought she was great. But him? Nah.

  One of these days, she was going to straight up tell him that he didn’t own her. That all he actually owned was a small-time newspaper, and the digital world was taking over anyway. She was willing to bet that within ten years, the paper would shut down. Soon enough, he’d be working for her when she was rich and famous!

  Someday she’d that say.

  Maybe.

  Probably not.

  After an hour of writing, her phone buzzed beside her. She glanced over. It was one of her friends from work.

  Hey girl, you coming to the party?

  A couple of Cara’s friends were going to a bar to enjoy a night out on the town. They’d been trying to convince her to go for weeks, but she never found who she was looking for at that kind of event. She unlocked her phone to reply.

  Going to have a headache right before it starts. Thanks though.

  She wasn’t sure why those kinds of things never worked out for her. She’d dated a ton of guys—and she did really mean a ton—but none of them ever really did it for her. She always felt like they were missing that spark. She didn’t want a guy that was as meek as she was. She wanted to find someone taking life by the horns, the kind of guy that would take her into the bedroom and strip off her clothes and…

  Anyway.

  She realized she’d been staring at her computer screen silently for the past few minutes. She blinked, trying to snap out of the mental fog, and went to fire up the coffee maker. It was still early in the morning on a Saturday. She had nowhere to be. Nobody to please. No chores to do until late Sunday night when she’d regret not doing anything on Saturday.

  As the steaming hot coffee poured into her cup, someone rang the doorbell.

  She paused.

  Ring, ring!

  That didn’t make sense. She hadn’t invited anyone over.

  Ring, ring!

  “Who is it?” she called.

  Whoever it was just kept ringing the bell, so Cara pulled on a bathrobe over her skimpy pajamas and went to answer the door. After a moment of thought, she grabbed the coffee cup. If it was someone with bad intentions, she wanted to have something to defend herself with, and unless the assailant was ten feet tall and made of solid steel, hot coffee to the face would get a strong reaction. She’d watched plenty of those home invasion shows to know better than to trust strangers.

  Wondering when she’d gotten so skeptical of the human race, she opened the door. She had broken the little peephole glass years ago, but she couldn’t be bothered to fix it so it had stayed broken. She was starting to regret not asking her landlord to repair it.

  There was a man outside, tall, gaunt and somewhat awkward.

  Jeffrey.

  The postman.

  “Hey, Jeff,” she said, lowering the coffee.

  “Package for you, ma’am!”

  “A package? I didn’t order anything.”

  “That’s something you’ll need to take up with someone else,” he said with a cheery smile. Jeffrey was like Cara—he hated his job, but he could put on a happy face when he needed to.

  “Um…okay.”

  She closed the door on him and returned to her bed, setting the coffee on the nightstand. She ripped into the package. There, inside some bubble wrap, was a single cobalt blue business card.

  There was nothing on the card. No name or address—just a single, stark phone number in the very middle, printed with shimmering gray letters.

  She frowned, flipping it over a couple times to see if she had missed something. Nope. She’d been right the first time; it was just a mysterious, single card. It felt nice under her fingers—rich and pleasantly textured.

  Cara set the card aside. Whoever it belonged to, she wasn’t interested. It was probably just some scam artist. Nowadays, you could get five-hundred cards like that for less than a nice meal. She was willing to bet it was like those email scams; just click on the link and get a lovely virus. The last thing she needed right then was someone to remotely attack her phone.

  The rest of the day was pretty boring. She just worked on her story and waited for the rain to die down. It never did. It kept pouring the entire day, nonstop.

  2

  On Sunday, the rain finally broke. Cara took the opportunity to run to the store to grab some groceries. As she was driving, she couldn’t help but think about that card. Why would someone send her a card? It just didn’t add up.

  First of all, a true scammer wouldn’t have just put a number on the card. They would’ve made it all pretty, nice and attractive – probably with a pamphlet that tried to convince victims to call the number by promising debt consolidation or a fat burning solution.

  Second of all, she was hardly a good person to target for any sort of scam. Fat burning? She was already slim. She took care of herself. She ate kale and quinoa, and drank kombucha. Sometimes she went to the gym before all the guys checked her out and made her uncomfortable to the point of making her leave. Debt? Nope. She was one of those rare people that plugged away at debt and lived frugally. Except for Netflix, her laptop, and basic necessities, she had a very inexpensive lifestyle. She wasn’t sure what she was saving for. It wasn’t like she had some grand plan, daringly buying into real estate and becoming crazy rich. It just felt right to have a nest egg hidden for emergencies.

  She shifted lanes in traffic and spotted a glaringly unattractive car behind her. To some folks, it was probably an awesome car, but to her, it just spewed classlessness. It was a supped-up town car with spinning rims and a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the front mirror. The whole body was covered in glittering purple-black paint. She couldn’t see much of the guy driving it from behind the darkened windshield. She just assumed it was a guy. Sexist? Maybe. Did she care? No, not really.

  She kept driving and put on the blinker to get off the interstate. The obnoxious car did the same.

  She shifted off the interstate toward the grocery store. A little while later, she changed lanes. The other car did too. Finally, the store’s sign came into view and she pulled in.

  The car kept driving.

  She let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was awfully tense recently. First, she got nervous about answering the door and getting attacked, and then, she thought the guy in the ugly car was following her. The poor guy was probably just trying to head home after dropping a kid off at choir practice or something, and here she was, wondering if she should be ready to call the cops. She wasn’t normally that nervous. Maybe it was the card that was putting her on edge.

  She tried to shake it off as she shopped. It was like a game—
pick up one thing and put one down. Pick up one gallon of almond milk and put down the stress of being single for the past year. Pick up some bananas and put down the irritation that everyone was texting her about their one-night-stand regrets from the night out that she had skipped.

  As she checked out, she noticed the cashier taking a glimpse of her. His eyes widened for just a moment as he glanced over her body. It was gross. Sometimes she was okay with guys checking her out. Other times? No.

  This was one of those no times.

  “How are you today?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  All she wanted to do was get her food and go. He kept trying to engage in conversation, obviously flirting. Some people are good at flirting; they smile at the appropriate times, wink, and ask the right questions. Cara thought she was quite talented at it, on the rare occasion she was actually attracted to someone. Sadly, the cashier didn’t do it for her. He was too…soft. She felt like she could just push him over and he’d apologize for falling. If she, quiet little Cara, felt that way about him…it wasn’t good for his cause.

  She wandered back out to the parking lot to put the groceries in her car. It was a Honda, one of the old ones. She wasn’t going to wow anyone with its looks, but it was dependable and had good gas mileage. Mindlessly, she tossed the groceries in the back and sat in the front seat.