by Chloe Cole
I let my gaze trail lower, taking in the square neckline that framed my full breasts perfectly, and part of me wanted to do a little dance at the freedom the lack of binding provided me. I'd opted out of the corset altogether after a reminder from Connor earlier...I was queen. If I didn't want to wear a corset, who was to stop me?
A small smile tugged at my lips as I did a half-turn, admiring the way the fabric skimmed over my waist and clung to my wide hips. I'd always been ashamed of those curves, but now, I embraced them.
This body had survived a marauder attack, a wild boar goring, attempted murder and so much more. It had served me well and I would be ashamed no more.
I lifted my chin high and nodded.
"This will do." I gave them all a smile as I stepped off the pedestal I'd been standing on. "Thank you, ladies. I look forward to seeing you all at the feast."
They murmured their thanks and gathered their equipment as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.
So many at once, I had a feeling I knew who would be on the other side of the door when a sharp knock sounded.
Hattie crossed the room quickly, arms laden with a basket of ribbons and frippery. "Must be the masters coming to escort you, Your Grace."
Nerves skittered through me as I took a last look at myself, hoping they liked what they saw as much as I did.
The door swung wide and there, with a grin as wide as his face, stood Connor Saint John, looking dapper as ever in a pair of fawn-colored britches and a matched waistcoat.
"My Queen," he murmured, stepping in and greeting Hattie with a nod.
Michael and Gatlin stepped in behind him. Michael dressed in a dove grey jacket that fit his lean frame perfectly, Gatlin in green a shade darker than my dress. Lucian stepped in last, ducking to get his head in under the doorjamb. He wore black, head to toe, and could've passed for the world's sexiest pirate if I didn't know he had the look of a rapscallion but a heart of gold.
My heart skipped a beat as I took them all in, loving each of them so much yet so differently.
I wouldn't change this for the world. Not a second of it.
The women curtsied and said their goodbyes as they filed out the door, leaving me with the men.
"If they didn't already love you, they will when they see you today," Connor said, shaking his head slowly as he looked me up and down.
I flicked a glance at each of them in turn and realized with a start that their pupils were dilated as they stepped closer.
Scents I recognized all too well swirled around the room, sending a bolt of lust through me.
"Oh no you don't," I muttered, holding up my hands and stepping back as they prowled forward as one. "Do you have any idea how long it took to get me to look this way?" I asked with a chuckle.
Lucian got to me first and dragged me close with his hands on my hips. "We can make it quick. In fact, you can stand right where you are and we can just flip that gown up and--"
"I'm afraid not," I said, ignoring the rush of heat that coursed through me at his touch and pushing him away with a sigh of regret. "The people are expecting me and I refuse to disappoint them just two weeks in. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for me to do that while I try to learn how to transform from a farm girl into a queen."
"Hey," Lucian said, dragging me back and bending until we were nose to nose. "You were always a queen, Anaya. You just didn't know it."
He crushed my mouth to his for an instant and then pulled away, stepping back to join his brothers.
Michael's green-gold eyes were filled with regret as they lingered on my cleavage and he quickly moved his fingers in a short, rapid sign sequence.
"It's going to rain?" I asked, trying to remember my lessons but certain I'd gotten it wrong.
"He wants a rain check," Gatlin said, a smile tugging at his lips. "On...you know...Flipping that gown up and--"
I slapped my hands to my flaming cheeks and groaned. "You guys are killing me here. Can we focus please?"
But as they all looked back at me, the picture of innocence, I knew they'd pulled a trick on me and were trying to distract me from my nerves.
With warm heart and even warmer loins, I took Gatlin's proffered arm and let him lead me toward the door.
We bypassed a window and I craned my neck to peer outside onto the courtyard, stunned to find a sea of people, waiting patiently, candles lit.
For me.
"They love you already, Your Grace," Gatlin said softly.
My heart gave a squeeze at his words, but the fears and doubts that lingered raised their ugly heads.
"Some of them. And some think me a usurper," I reminded him with a bittersweet smile.
"And you will change their minds," Connor said, moving to stand on my other side as he pressed a comforting hand to the small of my back.
I wasn't foolish enough to believe I could change all of their minds, but I knew it was a problem for another day.
Today was a day for celebration.
"Ready?" Lucian asked from behind me.
I turned and nodded, letting them lead me out and down the sweeping staircase.
At the bottom, Iris waited, beaming. She was resplendent in a gold gown that clung to her whip-thin waist and made her look as if she belonged atop a wedding cake.
She rushed toward me and reached for my hand, which I ignored and instead dragged her into a bear hug.
"Sister," I murmured, my throat clogging with tears I stubbornly refused to shed only moments before facing my people for the first time. "I am so glad you've decided to stay. I know Mother and Father didn't make the decision easy."
Even now, my father's steadfast loyalty to the unlawful king stung but not as much as my mother’s choice to stay by his side despite my missive to come and be a member of the court.
So strange. He'd been so steadfast in his desires to make me royalty, but only for the title...only if I was a man's trophy. The idea of a female in charge was just too much for him to bear.
But I had my sister, and that was more than I’d ever hoped in my life. I clung to my sister and she hugged me back just as hard, both of us heedless of our finery.
"All we need is each other, Anaya. Maybe mother will grow a spine some day and she can join us, but until then, it's you and I. Always."
She pulled back and swiped a tear from her cheek as a smile spread over her face. "And this strapping lot." She gestured toward the four men who flanked me, shaking her head in awe. "So my question to you now, sister dear, is this." She looped her arm through mine and led me toward the door, dipping her head conspiratorially close to mine. "Since you're the queen and I am your sister, what say about me having a harem of my own, hmm?"
I let out a snort-laugh and squeezed her tight. "That's the good bit, now, Iris. We're free. Women are free to mate with who they wish. If you want one mate or no mate. If you want ten cubs or none. You can do whatever makes you happy."
We stopped just before the doorway and she released my arm and stepped back to let Gatlin and Michael take my arms as she nodded.
"I think something similar to what you've got there would make me pretttty happy," she said with a wink. "Now go. Take your rightful place on that throne, sister."
I sucked in a deep breath and tipped my head to Lucian, who stood with his hand on the door.
Lucian pushed it open and we stepped out into the crisp evening air as one. The sound of the drums vibrated through me as I moved into the courtyard where my throne sat for this occasion.
There was a holler, "She's here!" and then, suddenly, the crowd broke into wild applause.
Connor stepped forward and shouted over the din.
"Shifters of Ironhaven...Anaya, your queen!"
Stay tuned for Iris’s story, coming in early October! Did you like Anaya’s Pride? Check out another steamy shifter novella by Chloe Cole…
Introduction
When a gorgeous stranger rescues her from a vicious wolf attack, nature photographer Amalie Baptista can’
t seem to fight the attraction to her savior. What she doesn't know is that giving in to him could mean giving up life as she knows it...
Alpha male Liam Albrecht is breaking every rule for the curvy, captivating Amalie, risking his place within the pack and his own life to protect her. As discord among the clans reaches a fever pitch, he must find a way to save her from the monsters among them.
Chapter One
October 1st
Pray, Montana
Amalie cursed under her breath and shot the GPS suctioned to the windshield the evil eye. Right before the finish line, twenty-four hours into her twenty-five hour journey, the thing was on the fritz.
She’d hated it from the second she’d turned it on. The smug recorded voice calling out instructions—a bewildering ten seconds too late—really rubbed her the wrong way. She’d dubbed the unit “Carole” after her sister, who rubbed her the exact same way. Carole—the GPS—had clearly decided the distaste was mutual, and was giving her the electronic equivalent of the middle finger by conking out in the middle of nowhere.
With a snort of disgust, Amalie pulled off to the side of the narrow road to use her blessedly silent map to try and figure out where the hell she was. She popped the SUV into park and stepped out of the car, the crisp air hitting her like a slap. As she turned to open the back door, a trickle of unrest skittered up her spine. She brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to her intense dislike of being lost.
She reached into the back seat and rifled through her well-worn pack to find the map and a yellow highlighter. After grabbing her thermos of coffee, she tramped over to a birch tree a dozen yards from the road and sank down to spread out her map. She’d just honed in on her location when the shrubs behind her rustled. She turned her head quickly toward the sound but saw nothing. Probably just a rabbit or a deer. No point in being paranoid.
Up close, some might consider the forest intimidating, the hulking trees, the encroaching darkness, but to her it represented freedom in the purest sense. Freedom from the phone, the smell of exhaust, the sounds of horns blaring, and most of all, people. The woods were awe-inspiring, sure, and maybe a little creepy as dusk began to settle. Nevertheless, once she found her way to the entrance point, she would be hiking every inch of it for the better part of the next week, and she couldn’t wait to get started. What better way to call attention to the plight of wolves in the area than to photograph them in their environment? The fact that she’d convinced her boss at the magazine to foot the bill was icing on the cake.
As she looked up and took in the beauty of the Montana sky, which somehow seemed bigger and bluer than any other sky, some of her tension drained away. This was supposed to be a working vacation, and she’d promised herself she would enjoy it.
She reluctantly tore her gaze from the glorious view and turned her focus to getting back on the road. She pored over the map, relieved to find where she’d missed a turn. Carole had only cost her about fifteen minutes or so, and it was a relief not to have to backtrack very far.
She pulled the top off the marker with her teeth, snapped it onto the back and carefully highlighted her route so she could see it easily while driving. Satisfied, she leaned back against the tree and sipped her coffee, soothed by the warmth and the scent of Irish cream wafting from the thermos.
Just as her lids began to drift closed for a minute of rest and meditation, she saw a flash of brown out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head sharply, her pulse kicking up a notch. City life was clearly making her soft. She was going to be photographing all sorts of wildlife over the next week and jumping at every little thing wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to get a grip.
As she stood to gather her belongings, she froze as another sound came from behind her. This time, there was no chance it was her imagination.
Her heart tripped and her mouth grew dry at the low, menacing growl. She didn’t dare move as her body trembled from the strain of remaining still, despite every instinct urging her to flee. The growl continued, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate movement and the crunching of leaves, growing louder by the second.
Staying still was no longer an option. Whatever was behind that sound was almost upon her and she refused to cower like a child. Straightening slowly and turning to face the beast, her blood ran cold. A large brown wolf crouched low, moving steadily closer, already less than fifteen yards away.
Wolves don’t attack humans, especially not a lone wolf, she reminded herself. This particular individual had obviously not gotten the memo, though, because its amber gaze locked on her, ears flattening against its skull as it padded closer.
She gripped the highlighter tightly and cursed her bad luck that it wasn’t a pen or sharpened pencil that she might’ve used as a weapon. Now, the best she could hope for would be to strike the wolf in the eye with the open highlighter when it attacked. The worst? She’d die but at least the rest of the pack would know this particular wolf was important. A bubble of hysterical laughter rose to her lips and she smothered it with a hand. She was one second from flipping out, and that wouldn’t do at all. She needed to stay calm.
As the wolf slunk closer, she ran through her options. She could make a run for the car. It wasn’t far, and she might not be exactly svelte, but she was pretty fast. But even if she managed to get there, the time it took to open the door and get in would surely seal her doom. She had the thermos of coffee. While the liquid wasn’t hot enough to damage the thickly furred creature, the thermos itself was heavy and could be used as a bludgeon of sorts. Though the wolf seemed large, she might be able to wind up a good swing and disorient it enough to dash to the car.
Either way, she was out of time—the wolf was closing in. She reached down slowly to grab the thermos, afraid that any quick movement would escalate the situation. She realized her mistake instantly. Her bent form was at its smallest and off balance when the beast leapt upon her a second later. She slammed into the ground and the air whooshed from her lungs. The highlighter flew from her grasp, but she held on to the thermos. Doing her best to cover her neck and face with her free hand, she struggled for air. The wolf’s jaws closed around her side, puncturing her clothes and sinking into her flesh.
She let out an ear-piercing scream as she swung the thermos into the animal’s head. The wolf released her for a moment and glared at her malevolently. She raised her arm to deliver a second blow, but another low growl—this one behind her—stayed her hand.
A second wolf.
With mounting horror she realized that any slim hope she’d had of escaping this nightmare alive had just evaporated. Holding off one of the enormous creatures had been a pipe dream, but fighting off a whole pack? Impossible.
Her thoughts derailed as she realized her initial attacker had ceased moving as well. It peeled back its lips, let out an answering growl, and slowly stepped off of her, moving toward the sound behind her.
Everything seemed to slow as Amalie rolled to her uninjured side. She barely made it to her knees when the excruciating pain of the bite finally registered through her haze of shock. She fell back onto her side with a cry and turned her head to see the brown wolf approaching the second, much larger animal. A timber wolf, male.
Try as she might to formulate a plan, or move, or do…something, she could not take her eyes off the creature. He was magnificent. The largest wolf she’d ever seen, his coat a burnished bronze. He was so compelling that for a brief, surreal moment she cursed herself for not grabbing her camera when she got out of the car.
The timber wolf stopped growling and, as if he felt her watching him, moved his gaze to hers. She gasped. His eyes were a molten gold flecked with green, and exuded the warmest, most intelligent light. In her peripheral vision, she saw the smaller brown wolf move to take advantage of the timber’s distraction.
She screamed as it lunged, and the timber wolf feinted to the right. Amalie cringed as the smaller wolf closed its jaws onto his powerful neck muscles. He’d moved just in time, and wa
s spared a killing bite to the jugular. He snarled in fury as he shook off his attacker and they began to fight in earnest, pawing and snapping at one another. The clack of teeth and their guttural snarls echoed through the trees.
Amalie shook her head to clear it and fought the darkness threatening to pull her under. She had to make a move. Struggling to her hands and knees, she tried to inch her way toward the car, all the while watching the battle. A scant few feet from the car, her vision began to blur. She looked down at her side where a trail of thick, bright red blood flowed steadily from the wound. A wave of nausea rolled over her and dots of light exploded behind her eyes. She stopped, the frosty breath puffing from her lips as she pressed a hand over her side to stem the bleeding. Just a little further. She turned her head to see if the battling wolves had noticed her progress, but they seemed oblivious.
Right as she was about to resume her painful crusade, the smaller wolf let out a high-pitched yelp. It seemed to finally recognize it was outmatched, breaking into a run toward the thickly-treed forest. She waited, breathless, hoping the massive timber wolf would pursue his foe. Instead, he turned his magnificent head in her direction and, panting from exertion, loped toward her. Heart pounding wildly in her chest, she tried to scuttle the last few feet to the car, but the last of her strength seeped away, leaving her on empty.
She lay on her stomach and closed her eyes, desperately praying that the blood loss would kill her before the timber wolf’s teeth tore into her flesh. Ironic that the very animals she had come here to save would kill her. As least she wouldn’t be around to hear Carole’s “I told you so.”
Warm breath caressed her cheek and she peeked through her lids one last time to look into the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. This time, however, they belonged to the face of a man.