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Captive Bride; Warrior of Her Heart

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by Andromeda




  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  CAPTIVE BRIDE:

  WARRIOR AFTER HER HEART

  A NOVEL BY,

  ANDROMEDA

  © 2016

  Published by After Hours Publications

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

  Due to some explicit scenes it’s suggested age is 16+.

  Other books by Andromeda

  Love Contract

  Sugar Love

  A Royal Affair; Craved by a King

  Chapter One

  The soft wind blows through the branches of the Baobab tree, rustling the leaves. Sitting in of the thick arms of the tree is a young woman, her leg casually swaying in the breeze. Her back to the thick trunk, she looks up to the sky to see flocks of multi-colored birds sing their beautiful songs in praise of the morning dawn.

  Young Zenobia smiles at them as she’s always marveled at how free they seem; not a care in the world. Below her, herds of buffalo, elephants and antelope move through the thick brush; minding their own business. Every now and then she’ll hear the call of a bird, or the roar of a leopard, but she isn’t afraid; she was raised in trees.

  Her ears prickle at the sound of the thunder of drums, their voices carried over the great distances because of constantly moving winds. Tilting her head to the side, Zenobia listens to try to judge what they could mean. By the sound of the ferocity of them, someone important is coming; someone that she might know.

  "My princess!" a voice says below her. "My princess! Your father is back!"

  Curious, Zenobia looks down at the ground where a young woman stands, looking back up at her. The young woman puts her hands on her hips and points to her feet in a motherly-like, commanding manner.

  “Zenobia, get down here right now!” she says. “Your father is back!”

  Zenobia’s face lights up with joy and she stands up; knowing that her beloved father has finally returned from battle. Standing up on the thick branch, she looks around for some way to get down when she sees a vine. Gathering herself, she leaps forward, her fingers swapping the vine as she swings down.

  The young woman yelps as it looks like Zenobia might fall; but she lands gracefully in front of her, dusting herself off.

  "Will you stop that!" the young woman pants, clutching her chest. "You could have died!"

  Zenobia laughs. "Deka, it's going to take a lot more than a vine to kill me."

  "Ancestors Zenobia!" she growls. "I swear you'll give me a weak heart."

  Zenobia rolls her eyes as she laughs. She and Deka grew up together, as the young woman was picked to be her personal playmate and handmaiden. While Zenobia has always been the wild one, Deka has been the most practical and relaxed one.

  As Deka begins to tend to her princess, Zenobia suddenly tenses when something catches her attention: the flicker of a spotted tail. Slowly, she reaches for her bow, taking an arrow from its quiver and pointing it, well Deka thinks, at her.

  "What are you doing!" she yelps, holding up her hands.

  "Don't move!" Zenobia hisses.

  There is a flash of spotted fur, the roar of the hidden creature so sure of its kill, only to be put down by an arrow to the chest. Zenobia shoots a second one, just to make sure it's dead before running over. Deka pants, patting her heart as Zenobia kicks the leopard a couple times with her foot to make sure it’s dead. When it doesn’t move, she offers up a silent prayer to the Ancestors, thanking them for the kill, but also apologizing to them—an apology for having to do so to one of their creatures.

  "Looks like we have a gift for your father," Deka whispers as Zenobia takes out her knife.

  Carefully, Zenobia takes the heart out, murmuring prayers as she buries it into the ground. Respect for nature is a part of her people, and when the Ancestors bless you with a kill, you must give the heart back to the earth. It takes a while, but soon Zenobia is finished with dressing the animal and then with vine, she ties its legs together.

  "Alright," she says, putting the cat on her shoulders. "Let's go meet my father."

  It’s not fair to the village, and as Zenobia and Deka emerge from the jungles, she smiles when she sees the familiar landmarks. The first things that are seen are the massive guard towers, two in each direction of north, south, east and west. Each of the guard towers are connected by seven-feet walls to keep its people protected at all times. Today, however, they are flung open in anticipation for its emperor.

  The second that Zenobia passes through the gates, she is surrounded by her people, all overjoyed to see their princess. A servant takes the dead leopard to skin it and cook its meat for the king to eat. Some warriors ask Zenobia about the kill, a tale that the princess is all too happy to share if her maids didn’t grab her.

  Surrounding her like a pack of hyenas, they drag her from the group to her hut in order to get her ready for greeting her father. As the royal princess, Zenobia has her own household, complete with guards, cooks, servants and so much more. The hut itself is about the size of four normal sized ones put together. Zenobia had the option of living in the royal palace until she is made Empress, but she refused, wanting to have her own space.

  Her maids immediately get to work, stripping off her hunting gown before throwing her into the copper tub already full of water and sweet-smelling spices. Several wash her back while the others get to work on her hair.

  They have to make her look presentable to the emperor; she must look every inch a royal princess. Zenobia almost laughs at their hard work as she knows her father does not care what she looks like, as long as she, his most beloved daughter, is there to greet him.

  When her bath is done, Zenobia is pulled from the water and rubbed dry with sand, before her clothes are held out to her. A lion-skin gown is pulled over her head while golden bangles are slipped onto her ankles and wrists. Her lush black curls are left alone, as no one can tame it anyway.

  The maids look Zenobia over, nodding with approval at their work before holding up a polished bronze mirror for the princess to see herself. Zenobia tries to not frown as she looks at her reflection. She’s always been a beauty; all know that from her dark-brown brown skin, large gray eyes and with a tall, curvy, slightly-muscular form; all signatures of her royal African blood. But she’s always hated to be dressed up. All this jewelry, fine clothes; is not her. However, she knows for the sake of her father, she'd suck it up and be dressed up like a doll.

  Outside, the drums pound faster and harder, the sound of running feet, war cries and cheering thunder in Zenobia’s ears and she pokes her head out. Crowds of people press again
st her father's chariot, people shouting his name as he waves his hand, holding the staff of victory high into the air. Finally, he holds his hand up for silence and the noises slowly stop.

  "My people!" he shouts, his powerful voice booming. "The Ancestors have blessed us with victory against our enemies! Our women and children will sleep safely again!"

  The warriors cheer at this, beating their spears to the ground as they shout their war cries. Her father's eyes search the crowd and when they find Zenobia’s, his smile is as bright as the sun.

  *************

  "Welcome back, Baba," Zenobia says, hugging him tightly.

  Finally, they are alone. There was a massive feast after his speech and while Zenobia was sitting next to him, she never could really talk to him. Ambassadors from their allies had arrived and they held most of his attention. Zenobia will admit that she was a little bit jealous but in the end, she knew that they’d have our time.

  "Beloved daughter," her father says in her hair and holding her close. "I missed you."

  "And I missed you," Zenobia whispers back smiling.

  When they break away, Zenobia looks at the most powerful man in all of Africa. Coming to his throne at a young age, he worked hard to become Emperor of Ethiopia. His empire is vast, spanning over almost all of known Africa, rivaling only the Egyptians in the region; and Zenobia is his heir.

  Raised almost from birth to become Empress, Zenobia has been taught how to reign. Learning combat from an early age, Zenobia is more than a match for any warrior in their empire; proving herself over and over again in the art of war.

  "Did you behave while I was gone?" he asks and he takes off his armor.

  Zenobia pouts her lips and answers, “Of course I did." However, when her father shoots her a certain look, she knows that she must tell the whole truth. "OK, I might...have caused some trouble,” she confesses.

  "That's my girl," her father chuckles. "I would have been disappointed if you hadn't."

  Zenobia sits down in a padded chair. "How was the war?"

  "It was good,” her father answers. “We have peace with the Imfui, but it came with a…condition."

  Zenobia arches an eyebrow; she can tell when someone isn’t telling the whole truth and she tilts her head. “What kind of condition?”

  Her father sighs. "In order for me to not wipe them out...the King offered me his son...to you..."

  Zenobia’s heart freezes in her chest. "W... What...?"

  "Prince Nyako will be arriving soon,” her father says, deciding to just tell her outright. “…And you two will wed."

  Zenobia feels as if ice cold water has been splashed on her face. She’s always known that she’d be expected to marry someone…but she didn’t think it would come this soon. As the heir to the Empire, she has to settle down to produce heirs of her own, but she didn’t expect it to come so soon.

  "But...what if I don't want to?" she whispers softly, testing the waters.

  "Then we go back to war with them," her father answers. Walking over, he rests his hands on her shoulders and cups her chin, looking into her gray eyes. "Zenobia...you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think you could do it."

  "Will he have a claim to my throne?" she asks.

  "No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "The prince gives up all power to this throne...but you gain power with his."

  Zenobia tries to think like a tactical princess. She must think for her people; she must put their needs above her own. If this is what she has to do for peace, then she must at least give it a consideration. "Can I think about it?" she asks.

  "Yes," her father says nodding. "Yes, you may."

  Walking over to give him a farewell hug, Zenobia leaves his hut to go back to her own. Changing into her nightgown, Zenobia crawls into her bed, pulling the covers over her head as she tries to think over the options before her.

  She’s always been taught to be a solo ruler as both men and women can be trained to be rulers in their culture. She is her father’s only child, her own mother dying in childbirth and her father swore to never take another wife. Her people have always looked to her for the future. She’s always felt that she’s had to double prove herself and keep them safe. However, if she doesn’t marry this prince, then her people will go back to war; the bloodshed will start again.

  Do I really want to be remembered as the selfish Empress, Zenobia wonders to herself. No...no, I don't. My people always come first; I come second. My choice is clear.

  *************

  In a faraway palace, in a faraway kingdom, a young man thrusts powerfully within his young bed slave. Sweat glistens on his brow as he holds her tight, loving the sounds of her moans of praise.

  "Oh yes, my king,” the woman cries out. “Oh yes!"

  The man buries his face in her neck, his body tensing as he unleashed a roar of release, filling her with his seed. With a groan, he withdraws from her body, rolling to lay at her side in order to catch his breath.

  The young woman slides a milky-white hand up his chest and rubs slow, sensual circles. “Is my king tired?” she purrs softly. “Does he need a break?”

  "Not at all," the man murmurs before gesturing for her to get on her knees before positioning himself behind her. "Just need to catch my breath."

  Just as he’s about to enter her, he hears a loud banging on his door. Growling lowly, the young man is forced to pull away and gets up, walking to the door, opening it. “What?” he barks angrily.

  Dark brown eyes stare into the man’s blue ones, a playful smirk on the lips of their owner. "Still in bed, Alex? You know what day it is."

  Alexander rolls his eyes. "I'm coming, alright?" he snaps. “But I’m a bit…busy.”

  Alexander’s friend Titus arches an eyebrow; he has grown up with him since childhood and knows him like he knows his backhand. However, while he is the logical and practical one; Alexander has always been the complete opposite. Titus sometimes wonders what god in their right mind made him king of the most powerful city-state in Greece.

  “You might want to hurry it up,” Titus says. “You know the Elders are expecting you.”

  “I’m coming, alright?” Alexander snaps. “Just…give me a moment.”

  Alexander slams the door on Titus’ laughing face before turning back to the bed. His bed slave, Iraia, watches as he begins to pull on a tunic and cloak before strapping on her sandals.

  "Where are you going my King?" she asks.

  "I have another boring meeting," Alexander grumbles, looking for his golden headband.

  Iraia gets up and walks over to him, her lips puffing up into a deliciously cute pout. "But I want you here with me..."

  Alexander cups her chin and pulls her close, kissing her deeply. "Well...the quicker this meeting is over, the quicker we can return to our...fun."

  Iraia giggles and nods. Alexander can't help but roam his eyes over her naked body. The flawless milky skin, the golden hair, the sky colored eyes. She’s the most beautiful woman in his kingdom. She’s been sharing his bed since he became King of Sparta, almost five years ago.

  Picking up her gown from the floor, he helps her dress and they then walk arm and arm out of his chambers. Guards bow their heads as they pass, showing proper respect to their king. As they near the throne room, Alexander lets Iraia go, gives her one last kiss and a quick squeeze on the rear, before pushing open the doors.

  The whole court is assembled and when they hear the doors open, they all scramble to drop to their knees. Alexander’s cloak brushes the ground as he walks down the center aisle and then ascends the dais. Slowly, he turns to face his council before lowering himself on the throne.

  When he gestures for everyone to stand and the crier steps forward. "Presenting his Royal Highness King Alexander! King of Sparta!"

  "All hail the king!" everyone shouts. "All hail the king!"

  "About time you got here, Alex," a feminine voice to Alexander’s right whispers.

  Turning his head slightly, Alexa
nder sees Anthea standing next to Titus and he has to smile to himself. Both are their best friends, entering and exiting the Training school at the same time. They swore a blood oath that they’d always be there for each other, watch each other’s backs in battle; and will straighten the other out if the other acted like an ass. They are the only ones whom Alexander can never lose his temper at, or can talk to him without formality.

  "Easy, Thea," Titus whispers. "Alex was busy."

  "Yeah, playing with his slut," she hisses.

  Alexander rolls his eyes. Anthea never approved of his bed mates; Iraia most of all. Who he sleeps with should be his business and his alone.

  "Where I stick my manhood is none of your business," he whispers back. "You maybe need some to get inside you and then maybe you'll stop being so uptight."

  Anthea huffs, then slyly slaps him upside the head and then tugs hard on his long hair.

  Alexander huffs in anger. Spartan women... he thinks angrily to himself.

  "OK, children, calm down," Titus says, getting in the middle. "We are in public. Do I have to separate you two?”

  Anthea rolls her eyes, shifting in her seat. Alexander sits back on his throne as the first man approaches.

  *************

  The meeting is over in a couple hours and Alexander leaves instantly, walking down the hallways, deep in thought. He’s always hated those meetings, as he honestly doesn’t see the point of them. The Council of Elders normally deal with the day-to-day business so why does he have to sit in on them?

  As he wanders the halls, he comes before the Hall of Kings. White marble statues line the walls of all the King of Sparta since the city-state was formed. They are chiseled to perfect likeness of their kings, painted and are even dressed in royal robes.

  Alexander comes to the end of the hall and stops before a statue that could pass as his twin. Long curly brown hair, hazel eyes, with full lips and a chiseled jaw. The hazel eyes are just as emotionless now as they were when they were real.

  Before him is the statue of his father, Leonidas II, known to the world as Leonidas the Great. From stopping the Persians, to expanding the kingdom almost into Athens, he was Sparta’s greatest ruler; and then...there is he. Alexander I, King of...Sparta in name only. In reality, Alexander is nothing more than the King of the Bedchamber; his conquests are too many to number.

 

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