by Vivian Arend
“Neither was I, but it seems the gods have a twisted sense of humor.”
The emperor averted his gaze and ran his fingers through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of discomposure. He poured a glass of wine and took a long drink. “Well, this changes everything.”
“Does my condition hinder your plans?”
“No, not at all.” A hint of a smile played on his lips. “In fact, it might be just the thing that’s needed. Please, take a seat.”
She lowered herself into the chair next to him, her nerves on edge. “What do you ask of me, Your Imperial Majesty?”
“I need you to use your charms on a man.”
One eyebrow shot up. “If you’re asking me to seduce him, I doubt I’ll be able to.”
“You might be surprised. Do what you feel comfortable doing, but I need you to convince him to return to the palace.”
Something about this plan unsettled her. “Why not use the Legion to physically extract him?”
The emperor shook his head. “No, this is something that needs to be handled delicately, and you’re the best person for the task.”
“And if my charms don’t work on him?”
“Then I will fully admit to being wrong in my assessment of him.” His expression sobered. “But for your sake, I pray to the gods I’m right. And I hope you’ll forgive me for putting you in this position.”
“Then I’ll leave immediately. Where is this man?”
“In a small villa on the outskirts of the city. I’ll have a chariot bring you to him.”
“And if he’s not there?”
“I’ve stationed men around the villa to monitor his every move. He’ll be there.”
She stood, a breath away from expressing her hesitations. She should be preparing for motherhood, not endangering the one thing she had left of Marcus. But what would the emperor do if she refused?
She closed her eyes and reminded herself that the emperor had promised to take care of her, and she trusted that he wouldn’t lead her into danger. “And does this man have a name?”
That faint smile returned. “You’ll know him when you see him.”
After staring at the sword for the better part of a day, Marcus finally worked up the courage to pick it up from the place where Titus had thrown it. The ore adorning the golden hilt stirred the magic inside him. His skin tingled from the rush of power, and he drew in a sharp breath.
This is how it felt to steer a ship.
His gaze fell to his stump, and the sting of bitterness erased the magic’s glow. He’d never fly the open skies again.
Let’s end this now before my courage falters. He dropped to his knees and positioned the tip of the blade over his heart. All he had to do was fall on the sword, and it would all come to an end. No more pain. No more suffering. No more regrets.
Yet as the seconds ticked by, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Titus’s words from last night haunted him, stopping him every time he allowed his chest to lean onto the sword. I can assure you that if you ever got your head out of your ass, you’d see you have plenty left to live for, including a woman who loves you.
Titus was right. He was a coward. A selfish bastard who’d probably destroyed his one chance at happiness by lying to the woman he loved. And why? All because of stupid pride.
He flung the sword across the room with a curse and covered his face with his hand. Was it too late to come out of hiding and beg her to forgive him?
“I was hoping you’d think of something better than ending your life,” Sexta’s voice said, her words tinged with regret.
He bit back a laugh. The deeper his depression got, the more vivid his hallucinations became. It almost sounded like she was right there with him. “And would you want a man as broken as me?”
“You’re still the same man I fell in love with,” she replied.
His eyes burned, but he refused to let the wetness gathering in the corners spill over. By the gods, I’m a mess, to be on the verge of tears from a figment of my imagination. And even though he knew his conversation existed only in his mind, he closed his eyes and allowed it to continue.
“I was led to believe you were dead,” she continued.
He inhaled and could’ve sworn he smelled the perfume she used to wear. “Perhaps it’s better you keep on believing that.”
“You’re wrong.”
A soft hand grazed his cheek and jerked him from his reverie. His breath hitched. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up into her face.
She lowered her palla and let it drape over her shoulders and across her chest as she knelt in front of him. Anguish darkened her blue eyes, and new lines creased the corners of her mouth. A stab of remorse filled his chest. He’d caused those lines.
“I suppose these past few months have been punishment for what I did to you.” Her face was pale as she ran her thumb along his bottom lip. “I lost you once, and part of me died with you. I’m never letting you go again.”
“Even though I’d bring you nothing but pain?”
She shook her head. “The only pain I’ve ever known is being without you.”
He should’ve pushed her away, but as she lowered her lips to his, an unspoken need consumed him. He needed to taste her sweet kisses again. He needed to hold her in his arms and lie beside her. He needed to chase away the sorrow in her eyes and fill them with pleasure once again.
She held back at first as though she feared she would break him. His pride stung, and he deepened the kiss. A moan rose from her throat and roused the desire he’d tried to forget these past five months. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, eager to feel the luscious curves of her body once again.
But the firm roundness of her stomach surprised him as much as a punch in the gut. He released her and struggled to find his words. “Sexta, are you—? I mean, is it—”
She guided his hand to her belly, and he could’ve sworn the child inside kicked him.
Wonder mixed with pure panic, and his chest heaved as though he’d sprinted across the city. “How is this possible?”
She quirked a brow. “Have you forgotten how many times we made love before you...” Her voice trailed off, and she lowered her eyes.
“No, I haven’t forgotten a single moment in your arms, but I thought you took precautions.”
“It seems with that with all the excitement, I forgot to drink my pomrutin tea,” she replied with a shrug. “But once I learned I was pregnant with your child, I supposed it was the gods’ way to helping me cope with losing you.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “I know this is a shock to you.”
“It is, but perhaps it’s just the thing I needed.” He stared at her and cursed his cowardice. He’d been a fool to think she would abandon him because of his injury. “Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“You forgave me for doing the same thing. How could I not forgive you?”
His gaze fell to his hand should’ve been. “I don’t know how good a father I’ll be with this, though.”
She reached for his stump, and he flinched. There were days when he couldn’t even bear to touch it. Yet her touch was feather-light as she traced the scarred skin. He braced for the show of pity that would follow, but instead, she continued up his arm and caressed his biceps.
“You’re still strong here.” She trailed her finger up to his shoulder and back. “And here.”
The sensual eroticism of her touch reawakened his desire. Instead of making him feel like less of a man, she was showing him how she still appreciated his other masculine parts. “Where else?”
She gave him a wicked grin that made his cock harden. “Perhaps this would be easier if you removed your clothes.”
Sexta stood in one graceful motion and took his hand. He rose from his knees and didn’t resist when she lifted his tunic over his head. Lust heated her gaze as she inspected every inch of him, her fingers leaving a line of fire wherever she touched him. She ran her hands down h
is chest and stomach before coming to his erection and wrapping her hand around it. “I see nothing lacking here.”
He drew in a sharp breath to keep from coming right there. “Sexta,” he groaned, his voice raw with need.
She chuckled and pushed him back on the bed before unfastening the pins holding up her dress.
He couldn’t help but stare at her. She’d always been beautiful, but the subtle changes of pregnancy aroused him more than he expected. Her breasts were fuller and darker. Her hips were softer and more enticing. And the roundness of her stomach reminded him he was responsible for all this.
She straddled his lap and threaded her fingers through his hair. “Make love to me again, Marcus.”
“Gladly.” He guided her hips so the opening of her sex was perfectly positioned over his cock and entered her with one swift thrust. A sigh of pleasure spilled from her lips, encouraging him to continue. He moved inside her, savoring the sensations of her slick, tight walls. As he found his rhythm, he grew bolder. His lips revisited all the places she enjoyed being kissed, from the nape of her neck to the peaks of her breasts. And as he came closer to his climax, he discovered he didn’t need a second hand to hold her closer or hit the spot that sent her over the edge.
She came just a few seconds before him, her sex clenching around him and pushing him to the brink. Long-forgotten pleasure pumped through his veins. He felt alive. He felt whole. And when he looked into her eyes and saw the love there, he felt like the luckiest man in the empire.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and his attention immediately fell on her stomach. “I suppose I should do the respectable thing and marry you before the child is born.”
“Since when have we ever been respectable?” she teased. Her smile softened as she added, “Although I could use a co-captain for my new ship, The Scoundrel.”
“Co-captain?” He toppled her onto her back and covered her with his body. “If I’m going to be on a ship, I’m going to be the only captain.”
“Care to make a little wager on that?”
“Don’t tempt me.” But she did tempt him, he decided as he kissed her again, in all the right ways.
“Of course, that means you’d have to come back into the world of the living.”
He drew in a breath and hesitated. A phantom pain streaked down his arm to where his hand used to be. “It won’t be an easy transition.”
“I’ll be by your side if you need me.”
“And are you certain you want to be with someone like me?”
She looked up at him and smiled so brightly, his chest seemed to swell to twice its size. “I’m going to prove to you how good we are together.”
“My dear Sexta, you’ve always been the only woman for me.” And he proceeded to show her why one more time.
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MORE FROM CRISTA MCHUGH
Thank you for reading Shattered Web. I hope you enjoyed it!
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You’ve just read the fourth full-length book in The Deizian Empire series. The other books in the series are Tangled Web (Book 1), Poisoned Web (Book 2), and Deception’s Web (Book 3). I hope you enjoy them all!
Crista
BIOGRAPHY
Crista McHugh is an award-winning author of fantasy and romance who writes heroines who are smart, sexy and anything but ordinary. She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two children, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.
JUMP TO...
Copper King by Vivian Arend
Marked by Temptation by Deanna Chase
Rumpel's Prize by Marie Hall
Tank by M. Malone
Shattered Web by Crista McHugh
Caged Wolf by SM Reine
Collateral by Roxie Rivera
Beyond Solitude by Kit Rocha
Blue Roses by Mimi Strong
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Caged Wolf
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
More from SM Reine
CAGED WOLF
WARNING: This sexy, violent paranormal novel contains werewolf bondage, motorcycle bondage, knotting, shapeshifter sex, and a shotgun named Little Bo Peep. Adult readers only! You’ve been warned…
The biker gangs passing through Lobo Norte don’t scare Ofelia anymore. All those men are the same: scarred, homeless, and broken…just like Ofelia. They’ve become a blur of forgettable faces watching her strip. She takes off her clothes, takes their money, and wipes them from her memory instantly.
But Trouble is different. A biker with a wolf tattoo and tortured eyes, he sees beyond Ofelia’s tough disguise to a more fragile woman within. She’s drawn to him like she’s never been drawn to a man before—at least, not since she survived hideous torture at the hands of her ex-boyfriend that left her scarred physically and emotionally. She can’t forget Trouble. And she definitely can’t push him away.
There’s magic between them that neither understands. But maybe if Ofelia and Trouble can find the truth, they can release each other from the chains that bind them to Lobo Norte, to the Fang Brothers biker gang, and to the dark secrets in their pasts…
THE DEVIL (XV)
The fifteenth card of a tarot deck’s major arcana, The Devil represents hedonism, obsession, and temptation. His arrogance is as intoxicating as it is deadly. Those drawn to his magnetic personality will become entangled in his pursuit of earthly pleasures.
He is bound in chains with no lock: the ties that hold him are those of his own making. Though The Devil is surely in bondage, freedom always lies within his reach…if only he will allow himself to take it.
CHAPTER ONE
Folks didn’t come to Lobo Norte because they wanted to. Our town was a pit stop in a nowhere-place in the desert, neither Mexican nor American, marked on no map and unreachable by normal means. Any normal person unlucky enough to stumble upon us was likely to never leave again. For those who came deliberately, we were the last chance to get gas before crossing the border into the United States. Or the first place to get whores and drugs before crossing into Mexico.
When the Fang Brothers blasted into my town, I could tell that they weren’t there for gas. That only left one other option.
The door to my bar swung open, and there they were: three men, each of them tall and broad, each of them encased in leather and denim.
The first one was grizzled and gray. His vest had “Big Papa” etched into the breast with white thread. Big Papa didn’t have a right eye and he didn’t try to hide the scarred, empty socket.
The one on the left, with a goatee and wicked eyes the color of the playa, had a vest that said “Mad Dog.” Both radiated intimidation. It would have been enough to make any other twenty-two-year-old girl drop everything and run.
But I wasn’t any other twenty-two-year-old girl, and the third guy—the one on the right, hanging back a little from the others—had my cowboy boots glued to the floor.
He was a full inch taller than Big Papa. His square jaw was shadowed with faint stubble, same length as
the dusky brush of hair on his head. He’d shaved maybe a week earlier, and judging by the glistening sweat on his collarbones, that was how long it had been since he had showered, too. His skin was dusty and sunburned. A man who had been on the road for months—maybe his whole life.
The stubble made me wonder what the hair on the rest of his body would look like, if there was any at all. My gaze made its way up his fitted jeans and tasseled chaps to the shirt that hugged every line of his abs.
It took me a moment to meet his eyes, and once I did, I realized with a jolt of shock that he was watching me just as hard as I was watching him.
This guy’s vest only said “Trouble.”
I believed him.
The way my body instantly reacted to his stare—that was definitely trouble. Sprawled on the pool table with my ankles hooked over his shoulders kind of trouble. My stomach clenched low and hard, making heat pool between my thighs.
I reached under the shelf, grabbed the shotgun, and set it on the bar where all three of them would be able to see.
“What can I get you boys to drink?” I asked in English. Pleasant, nonthreatening. I let my shotgun, Little Bo Peep, do all the real talking.
Big Papa hefted his girth onto the stool in front of me. He was in good shape for a guy his age. Burly. Looked like he knew hard work in fields or factories, judging by the breadth of his arms and the scars on his palms. “Tequila,” he said. I grabbed three shot glasses, and he said, “Two’s enough.” He spoke Spanish like a Mexican. Not like I’d have mistaken them for tourists in the first place.
Two shots of tequila. It wasn’t a strange request, even at three in the afternoon.
I pushed the shots across the bar and shifted gears into Spanish-speaking mode. It didn’t come as easily to me as English, but I was more or less fluent after my months in Lobo Norte. “Cash or tab?” I asked, trying like hell not to look over at Trouble. What I was really trying to ask was, How long will you be here?