Happily Harem After

by Amy Sumida

  “I didn't know,” I whispered.

  “You know what this means?” Braxton said excitedly.

  “What?” Wes asked.

  “We can present Maddie to Mother and Father,” Brax declared. “They can have no protests against us marrying a Duchess.”

  “You're right!” Ash exclaimed. “It looks like we'll be having that grand wedding sooner than we thought, sweetheart.”

  “This was grand enough for me,” I said hurriedly.

  “What's wrong now?” Weston asked.

  “I know how your parties go,” I said. “I'd rather not attend one.”

  “She's right,” Ash growled. “Father is going to demand entertainment.”

  “And a bedding,” Wes added.

  “He's not watching us fuck our wife,” Braxton growled. “That old pervert can kiss my ass.”

  “I thought you liked those parties?” I asked. “The stories I've heard ...”

  “We did as our parents bade us.” Ashton sighed. “I'm not saying that I never enjoyed them, what young boy doesn't like the idea of an orgy? But sex gets old after awhile.”

  “When all you do is fuck, your heart starts to hurt,” Weston whispered.

  “And so does your dick,” Brax huffed.

  We all stared at him and then burst out laughing.

  “Things are going to change”–Ash exchanged a determined look with his brothers–“starting with our wedding.”

  “Agreed,” Weston said. “They can't force us any longer.”

  “Hell, if they try, we can just move into Maddie's house.” Braxton smirked. “It's going to be vacant soon.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Braxton was right; the manor was vacated shortly after our forest wedding. I didn't go home that day. Instead, I went with the princes to the palace. There, they presented me to their parents–after a hot bath and a change of clothes. The King and Queen were horrified by my story, and immediately sent soldiers to arrest my stepmother and stepsisters.

  They went a little easier on the girls, merely banishing them from the kingdom, but my stepmother was thrown in the dungeon. She would have been executed, but the King and Queen didn't want such an event marring our wedding celebrations. Instead, they locked Stepmother up and told her she could look forward to her execution in the Fall. Then they sent a horde of servants to the manor to clean it and remove my step-family's belongings. A steward was assigned to see to the household staff and the running of the place.

  Then the princes informed their parents of the way they wanted to celebrate our marriage. Or rather, the ways they didn't want to celebrate.

  The King didn't take it so well. He insisted that a proper celebration included carnal displays, and what would our guests think if we didn't provide them with such entertainments? After hours of arguing, he finally caved and agreed that we would try a more sedate party. But then they told him there wouldn't be a bedding ceremony.

  “Now that's just hogwash!” The King exploded. “I will have a bedding. You're my only sons, and you're all marrying one woman. This is my only chance to see you bedded, and I won't give it up.”

  “You're not seeing our wife naked, Father,” Ashton said simply. “And you're certainly not seeing her while we make love to her.”

  “The Queen herself has happily laid over a banquet table and allowed me to copulate with her for the Court's pleasure!” The King screeched. “Are you saying that your duchess is better than your mother?”

  “No, we're saying that our duchess doesn't want to be put on display,” Brax said reasonably, “while Mother loves it. Would you truly abuse our new bride upon her entry to our family?”

  The King scowled and huffed, but it was the Queen who ended the argument.

  “I've never liked the public displays,” she said, horrifying her husband. “Our sons are right; this Court has become a farce. We are a joke to most of the other kingdoms and a hedonistic escape for the others. But no one wants to live here, darling. They think we're lechers, and they're right. We're too old to be fucking on the ballroom floor. If the younger generation wants to be done with it, then I say to let them.”

  “But, my love,” the King whined.

  “You may still fuck any willing woman you want,” she huffed. “I don't even care anymore. Just do so with more discretion.”

  “Discretion?” He shouted.

  “Or I will leave, and I will take my sons with me,” the Queen said simply.

  “Yes, my love,” the King said immediately.

  And that was the end of debauchery in our kingdom... at least indiscreet debauchery.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My mother showed up for my second wedding. Their Royal Majesties were instantly in awe of Duchess Lily, but my husbands stared at her suspiciously. Still, she was welcomed, and it was my mother who helped me dress for the ceremony.

  She swathed me in fairy silk and diamonds again, though this gown was even more elaborate than the last. I wore a tiara over my long veil, and I had a train attached to my waist, which had me concerned that I wouldn't be strong enough to pull down the aisle after me. Mother disappeared when a servant came in bearing a gift from my husbands: a set of diamond jewelry. The girl was still helping me don the jewels when my mother returned.

  “I'll finish that, sweetie,” she said to the servant, and the girl hurried out.

  My mother was holding a box, one that looked familiar. She set it down on the four-poster bed and threw back the lid. Inside it was my lost slipper, gleaming in the low light.

  “Perhaps the time has come to tell them the whole truth,” Mother said.

  “I'm way ahead of you.” I smirked as I lifted my skirts and revealed the other shoe.

  She laughed and brought the slipper over to me, bending down to help me into it. Then she stood and helped me to stand as well. Mother looked me over from top to bottom and then nodded in satisfaction. I was surprised to see a tear in her eye.

  “Mother?”

  “You're so lovely, my Maddie,” she whispered and hugged me. “I wish that I could stay with you forever, but I'm already feeling the drain of this world.”

  “It's okay, Mother,” I said. “I understand.”

  “But I will return often, and make sure that no one harms my daughter ever again.”

  “I'll look forward to your visits.”

  “And I'm not leaving until I place your hand in theirs,” she said firmly. “Are you ready, darling?”

  “I am.”

  We walked out of the bedroom arm in arm, and our attendants pulled back and directed us down to the royal chapel. The castle was full of guests, but a path was quickly made for us, and I met the happy stares around us with one of my own. A pair of servants opened the chapel doors for us, and we strode in.

  Trumpets sounded, and then a woman began playing a harp. I looked up the long aisle to the dais at the end, where my husbands waited for me with the same priest who had already married us. They smiled broadly when they saw me, and I smiled back.

  Mother and I walked up the white satin runner, between overflowing pews, but I couldn't look away from my gorgeous husbands. All I could see were their eyes, sparkling like jewels: smoky quartz, emerald, and sapphire. They were more precious to me than any amount of treasure.

  When my mother and I were just a few feet away from the dais, we stopped, and my mother smiled softly at me, giving me an encouraging nod. I looked up at my husbands, and then slowly lifted the hem of my skirts until they could see the glass slippers upon my feet. The King and Queen, seated on their thrones behind the priest, gasped in shock, but my husbands just smiled wider and nodded.

  I blinked in surprise at their reaction, and then my mother escorted me up the steps and placed my hand in Ashton's. The priest gave me a conspiratorial wink, and we began the ceremony. This one was much more elaborate than our last, and when it was over, the priest presented us first to the King and Queen and then turned us to face the crowd.

  “Your Princes and t
heir Princess: Their Royal Highnesses Prince Ashton, Prince Weston, Prince Braxton, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Madelyn!” The priest said in a booming voice that I hadn't thought him capable of.

  Then we walked down the aisle together and stepped out to greet the guests who couldn't fit into the chapel.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You knew?” I asked my husbands as soon as we were seated at the high table.

  “We suspected,” Ashton said.

  “We knew,” Weston huffed. “What kind of fools do you take us for, Lily?”

  “A little dirt can't hide your beauty,” Braxton chided me.

  “Why didn't you say something?” I asked. “You deliberately said things to make me think otherwise.”

  “You obviously didn't want to be found.” Ashton shrugged.

  “I figured that you wanted us to get to know you more slowly, without the trappings of royalty,” Weston added. “And the more we talked to you, the more we appreciated your hesitation.”

  “We didn't lie when we said we didn't want Lily anymore,” Brax declared. “That wasn't the real you. You were too shiny that night, too perfect to exist.”

  “Here is the woman we love,” Ash took my hand and kissed it.

  “The woman we want to spend the rest of our lives with,” Weston kissed my cheek.

  “We didn't know what love was until you made us earn it,” Brax whispered. “Thank you, Mads. You changed our lives forever.”

  “For the better,” Ash added.

  “And you changed mine,” I whispered. “I love you, my sweet, reformed lechers.”

  “Who said anything about being reformed?” Weston asked me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “Just wait till tonight,” Brax promised. “We'll show you how reformed we are.”

  “And how much we love you,” Ash smoothed the hair back from my temple. “You're everything to me, my Mad-Lily.”

  “I couldn't live without you,” Weston added.

  “I don't even want to try,” Brax finished.

  On my feet, the glass slippers pulsed once, the magic finally satisfied, and I smiled to myself. It was amazing what a little love, a good dose of magic, and a pair of shiny shoes could do for a girl.

  ...and they all lived happily harem after.

  Keep reading for some sneak peeks into the first books in Amy's other series...

  Godhunter

  Fairy-Struck

  and

  The Last Lullaby

  Godhunter, Book 1 in the Godhunter Series

  You can get this book for FREE on the 9th day of every month!

  Chapter One

  “There were of old certain men versed in sorcery, Thor, namely, and Odin, and many others, who were cunning in contriving marvelous sleights; and they, winning the minds of the simple, began to claim the rank of gods.”

  Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, 13th century

  When someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!

  Those were the words going through my mind the first time I met Thor. In my line of work they should have been words to live by… literally. At least they would have been had I remembered them in time. Unfortunately, Bill Murray’s voice taunted me inside my head mere seconds too late. Thanks a lot, Bill.

  My forgetfulness left me facing the distinct possibility of an early and creatively painful demise. If only I'd remembered the movie wisdom sooner. Yes, movie wisdom. Scoff all you want but it may surprise you how much useful information is hidden in movie dialog. At least that's what I tell myself so I can feel better about thinking in movie quotes half the time.

  “So, Thor,” I smirked up at the giant, gladiator-muscled, Viking while he glowered down at me through a fall of his shimmering copper hair. “What's it gonna be? Hammer? Lightning? Fists of fury? Lightning might singe the rug a bit. Odin might not appreciate that, it looks kinda old.”

  Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to taunt a god but hey, what did I have to lose? He’d caught me red handed, bent over the new Make War, Not Love campaign plans I'd found in the Human Relations room of Valhalla. I hadn’t even heard the loud-mouthed God of Thunder coming in, if you can believe that. Loud-mouthed didn’t automatically equate to loud-footed, evidently. Then to make matters worse, he asked me if I was a god. Like maybe I was a newbie or something, and what did I, the ever quick-witted one say? I said no. Yeah, I wanted to smack myself silly for that one.

  Then again, maybe I should cut myself some slack. It’s a little shocking to be face to face, well face to chest, with what had to be close to seven feet of gorgeous, vibrant, leather-clad Viking godliness. Did I mention gorgeous? And the leather? I don’t mean that yuppie silky lambskin either. I mean hard core, I’m gonna bust your ass if you look at me wrong, well worn but still strong enough to wipe the floor with your face, leather. Just seeing the way it teased me by gripping all that muscle, made me want to rip it to shreds and teach it a lesson. Bad leather, Viking gods should be naked.

  “You wanna see my hammer?” Thor’s eyes took on a wicked gleam as he looked slowly up and down my body, which took longer than it should have for all five-foot-three (and a half) of me.

  “Whoa there, Viking,” I leaned back further on the table he’d previously planted me on like I was a misbehaving child. “Raping and pillaging days are in the past. You gotta catch up on the times.” I snapped my fingers in his face. “Nowadays there are laws on the treatment of prisoners.”

  “Not for gods,” his lips twitched. It was just a slight movement but I caught it and it gave me the smallest glint of hope that I might actually make it out of this mess alive. Get 'em laughing, then run while they're distracted. It's not the best plan but it's worked for me before.

  “Hey, like I always say, gods are people too,” I smiled my best P.R. smile. Gods are great, they’re not at all out to manipulate mankind, really, and I’m definitely not here to foil their evil plans. I smiled bigger.

  “No we’re not,” the frown was back and he set an intimidating fist on the table next to my hip for good measure. A fist that was nearly the size of my face.

  The leather around his forearm creaked at me gleefully.

  Okay, that was more like it. I could handle an angry god better than a horny one. I congratulated myself on the sharpness of my tongue until I felt his thumb scrape lightly over my jeans. I went still, listening to more creaky leather commentary as Thor leaned in closer and I found myself wondering how much strain the stuff could take. Maybe he’d bust his seams before he had a chance to bust my face. I can’t say the prospect didn’t have its own appeal, even without saving me an ass kickin'.

  The glimpse of chest I had through the V of his leather tunic was something straight out of a male calender. Made for women to drool over, the kind of sculpted, smooth, perfect chest that looked airbrushed. It was mere inches from my face, rising and falling with his deep breaths, and I had an overwhelming urge to lean forward and rub my cheek against it. Then there was that smell. This close to him, I was practically enveloped in it. It was like standing in the middle of a storm while lightning struck nearby; a wild, exciting aroma of rain and electricity. Of freshly washed man.

  “Now, now,” I chided him like a school teacher as I tried to focus on his face. “You mustn’t forget your own history. Shall I refresh your memory?”

  “Try me,” he made a sound halfway between a sniff and a snort, “let's hear what you think you know of gods.”

  “Well for one thing,” I poked my finger into his massive chest, “I know you aren’t gods at all, so you can just stop with the holier than thou attitude, buster.”

  A thick eyebrow arched up and Thor’s lips went into mini spasms.

  “For another thing,” yes, I was still poking him, “I know where you’re from, Atlantean. I know your god abilities are nothing more than technological and magical advances your kind kept from humanity in an attempt to rule the world. Advances that ended up destroying Atlantis but still you all didn’t think that was any reason to
stop practicing them.”

  “Practice does make perfect,” his eyes started to spark with the very magic I’d referenced and I knew I had only one shot to get out of there alive and un-hammered as it were.

  “I know something else too,” I whispered and cast my eyes side to side conspiratorially.

  He couldn’t help it; his smile finally broke free as he leaned in closer, “What’s that?”

  “I know if I do this,” I kicked my leg out as hard as I could and caught him where no man likes to be kicked, “god or not, you’re going down.”

  I jumped off the table the minute Thor landed, groaning and cupping himself on the thick carpet. Then I bolted past him and out the door, already chanting the spell that would get me through the wards of Valhalla and out into the Aether. I felt the magic rush over me like a hot, tickling breath as I ran down a long hallway to the tracing room. It sparked eagerly across my skin, urging me back to where I'd come from. Everything in its place and all that.

  As I crossed the threshold, I was pulled through the tracing point and into the Aether. The tracing point sealed behind me with a low murmur of magic and a pressurized pop in my ears. But that physical sensation lasted only a moment before my body became a mere memory with a tingling, freeing ecstasy. I flowed through streams of pure magic, my spell propelling me along to my destination so I didn't have to navigate the waters myself. With another pressure-pop that announced the reformation of my ears, I exited the Aether and felt my body reluctantly become physical again. Gravity was the worst; a jarring, sucking sensation that took a few moments to readjust to.

  My momentum sent me straight into a wall. A dirty, alley wall. I pushed off it immediately and swung around to automatically crouch into a fighting stance, just in case Thor had managed to follow me through. Tracing was a rush, add the adrenaline of the chase to it and it left me panting for breath and shaking. My pulse beat heavily in my ears, the thudding drowning out the traffic I could see in my peripheral vision. I was holding my kodachi before me and I hadn’t even realized I’d drawn the Japanese shortsword.