by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney
His heart beat fast and strong under her palm. It took her only a moment to realize it was the same rhythm as her own pulse.
She sat back on her heels, pulling her hand free.
“I do have feelings for you, but I’m not as certain as you are. I’m worried that when things are settled and quiet, you’ll be bored.”
His lips tipped up in a smile. “Will you be bored? I’m sure that there will be times I want activity, but there’s sword practice and hunting. Do you think there aren’t quiet times at my father’s court? I don’t rule there, so I have less to do even than a consort would. You’re inventing problems.”
Maybe she was. Maybe she needed to focus on what she wanted.
She wanted a man who would stand beside her, who would fight for her and for her people, and who would provide her a strong support. Ivan would do that. She wanted a man who could lead, who could advise her, and who understood the challenges of ruling her people. Ivan could do that. But most of all, she wanted a man who loved her, who put her first. Ivan had done that. He had offered himself to Koschei, he had killed the unkillable, he would give up his birthright and his own kingdom for her.
So what else was there? On her side, she couldn’t imagine ruling without him. If she tried to picture life without Ivan it was…nothing. She’d survive, she’d do her duty, but would she find joy without him?
She studied his face. “You love me.”
“Yes.” Unhesitating.
“You’ll stay with me.”
“Yes.” Unequivocal.
“You want me to be your wife.”
“Yes.” Unwavering.
She let her smile spread across her face. Everything she ever wanted was right here. All she had to do was reach out and take it. She cupped his jaw in her hands.
“Yes.”
His pupils expanded. “Yes?”
She leaned in, laying a gentle kiss on his lips. “Yes.”
He crushed her to him, his mouth fusing to hers.
Ivan’s hand tangled in her hair and they slid to the ground, mouth to mouth, body to body. She wrapped her arms around him, digging her fingers into the corded muscles of his back.
Vasalisa’s blood thrummed in her veins.
Yes. Undeniable.
The End
About the Author
Elise, born in Texas, currently lives in Virginia and has lived in various southern locales. She has a massive aversion to the cold and a virulent dislike of non-competition compliant chili.
Sign up for the newsletter to be sure to stay updated on all the news. You can also catch up with Elise on Twitter, Tumblr or Facebook or on her website Scorched Sheets.
Other Books by Elise
Stone Chosen Vol. 1 (Realmwalkers Book 1) (M/M/F ménage, fantasy)
Stone Chosen Vol. 2 (Realmwalkers Book 1) (M/M/F ménage, fantasy)
Two In Hand in the Love Is Anthology (M/M/F ménage, speculative)
By the Shorts (collected short works)
Trusting Destiny (M/F, contemporary)
Twice as High (M/M/F ménage, speculative)
With Emily Ryan-Davis
More than a Man (M/F, futuristic, just a bit kinky)
This Fire (M/F, contemporary)
Menage on 34th Street (M/M/F ménage, contemporary)
What Big Teeth You Have
Blood Prince Series: A Mini-Adventure
Jennifer Blackstream
“The Big Bad Wolf has bitten off more than he can chew.”
The vampire prince of Dacia is attempting a new alliance…
Kirill’s newest attempt at an alliance to solidify his power base is a demoness with naughty intentions. When the vampire prince turns down her lustful advances, she offers him one more chance to earn her signature on his contract—deliver a care package to the demoness’ dear old grandmother. And on the way, destroy the wolf that has been terrorizing the dark forest. A simple task for a vampire as powerful as Kirill. But a demoness is still a woman at heart. And Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…
Red Riding Hood…
Red clothing is a necessity if one wants to avoid the tedium of removing the bloodstains that come with being the wife of a vampire—nicknames be damned. Besides, Irina is only too happy to bring a splash of color to the dark forest as she accompanies her husband on an errand. Despite her husband’s concerns for her safety, Irina has no intention of letting him go off alone on a demoness’ quest—especially a demoness with Dizona’s…appetites.
One bite…
A magic spell takes both Kirill and Irina by surprise. Getting to know the Big Bad Wolf inside and out is no picnic. But for Dacian royals with the connections of Irina and Kirill, one bite will be the last straw for the Big Bad Wolf…
Chapter One
‡
“May I just say, Your Majesty, I am quite flattered that you consider me so influential. To be honest, I’m not sure I deserve the honor of one of your renowned political visits. I had thought you only courted the most powerful creatures of Dacia to…join with you.”
Kirill paused, the contract he’d been trying to explain still held firmly in front of him. the parchment creaked in protest as his grip tightened. Calmly counting to ten, Kirill eased the muscles of his jaw open slightly, unclenching his teeth as he lifted his gaze from the legal document to face his latest attempted alliance. Dizona, the demonic lady of the manor, wrapped her long, pale fingers around the jewel encrusted goblet before her, caressing the shining sapphires before raising the wine to her lips. The hungry look in her eyes spoke to just how oblivious she was to Kirill’s rising temper and his increasing urge to finish their negotiations in a dark dungeon.
“Do not underestimate your value.” Kirill set the contract on the table, wrenching his lips into a small semblance of a smile. “I am only too pleased to be offering you this opportunity.” He stressed the last word, trying to rein in his hostess’ straying attention.
Dizona took a slow sip of her wine, sensuous scarlet red lips parting around the lip of the goblet, her green eyes darkening as they bored into Kirill’s. As she tilted her head to drink, she flashed the smooth, silken lines of her throat, the porcelain perfection outlined by the fall of her golden hair behind her. She arched her back, her breasts straining against the emerald silk of her dress, threatening to spill over the dangerously low neckline. It was painfully obvious that every movement the demoness made was carefully orchestrated to highlight her fortune and beauty, to tempt Kirill’s mind into wandering down a dark hallway, at the end of which was a bedroom door.
How tedious. Kirill raised his own wine, keeping his gaze locked on Dizona’s. He inhaled the aroma of the liquid, pretending to savor the bouquet as he sifted through the myriad scents in search of the bitter signature of poison. As a vampire, he didn’t truly need to worry about such things anymore, but old habits died hard. Besides, who was to say a demoness couldn’t give poison the extra oomph it might need to cause him undo harm?
“I’m so pleased that you value me so,” Dizona purred, her tone trying to turn “value” into a dirty word. “Tell me more about exactly what it is that you believe I have to offer?”
Kirill made a mental note to cross all sex demons off his list. It just wasn’t worth the effort it took to drag their minds out of the bedroom and onto things as platonic as contract terms. “Tell me, Dizona, how many human babies have you substituted with your own ilk?” Kirill kept his tone light, easing the harshness of his inquiry even as he used it to parry Dizona’s flirtations. It was important to keep the female’s mind on the task at hand without offending her—a line Kirill was all too familiar with.
Dizona arched a carefully plucked eyebrow, the right corner of her mouth pulling upwards into a smile. “Recently?”
Kirill took a small sip of wine, muffling the grimace of repulsion at the liquid that was far too thin for his tastes. “Let us say within the last decade.”
“Fifty-eight.” Dizona put her wine on the table, stroking the st
em of the drinkware in long, smooth motions. She peered coquettishly at Kirill from under thick golden lashes. “Why do you ask?”
The false innocence dripping from her voice scraped along Kirill’s nerves like a rusted dagger. He took a larger sip of the foul liquid in his goblet, letting it seem as though she were making him flustered, hoping the awful wine would distract him from her attempted seduction. He forced his lips into a smile as he put his drink down on the smooth carved mahogany of the tabletop, careful not to scratch the polished surface with the grossly over-ornamented goblet.
“You may not be a queen, but your progeny alone make you quite influential.” Kirill put his hand on the parchment sitting before him and slid it in Dizona’s direction. “I am only too pleased to offer you an alliance. I believe we have much to offer one another.”
His word choice reared back to bite him as Dizona’s eyes grew more heated and she leaned forward, putting her soft hand over his.
“Oh, indeed we do,” she purred. “I’m so glad you see it.” Her hair tumbled in waves to one side, baring one graceful shoulder and a generous portion of her breast where it was nestled in the barely-there bodice of her evening gown.
Kirill pressed his fingers harder against the parchment, trying to get away from her touch without ripping his arm away. The scent of the oils she used to keep her palms as soft as the down of a bird assaulted his senses, making him feel as though he’d just been struck in the face with a bag of rotting lilies. He cleared his throat. “If you will just sign here…”
“Oh, Kirill—I do hope it’s all right that I call you by your name? Let’s put aside the dreary details for now. After all, before I get into bed with you—politically, of course—I do think it’s important that we…get to know one another better.”
She squeezed his hand, drawing it closer to her. The way she leaned forward at the same time to press her breasts against the table’s surface meant there were only a couple of inches between Kirill’s fingers and her flushed skin.
“I still think you should let me come with you. There’s a reason Dizona has so many children.”
His wife Irina’s voice echoed in Kirill’s head. She’s never going to let me live this down. Those damn dwarves will be over for dinner every night this week.
“Dizona,” Kirill said, using his own voice to pull himself from images of his wife’s seven swarthy friends making a pub out of his dining room. “As tempting as your beauty is, I’m afraid all I can offer you is a political alliance.” He carved his face into an expression of regret, trying to work up some heat for his eyes to soften the rejection.
Dizona’s grip tightened on his hand as he tried to pull it away. A spark of fire lit her eyes and she pulled his hand an inch closer to her bust. “Was I mistaken in thinking that this political alliance is important to you, Your Majesty?”
Her tone had dropped at least ten degrees, icy enough for each word to shatter as it was flung against his face. Bloody women. Kirill made a mental note to accept Adonis’ offer of lessons in how to deal with the fairer sex. The incubus prince of the neighboring kingdom of Nysa was an utter failure in politics, but in that moment, Kirill realized that the rakish demon might indeed have something to offer in the art of political negotiations—however specialized his area of expertise might be.
“Dizona, I apologize—”
“Don’t!”
Dizona jerked her hand back, her body tensing as if prepared to stand from the table and leave the room in a huff. Kirill cursed himself internally, rallying his best mask to halt any further insult even as he recoiled at the thought of appeasing the hormonal demoness. Before he could open his mouth to attempt to soothe Dizona’s injured pride, the demoness paused. Kirill sternly kept his suspicion from his gaze as Dizona slowly reclined in her chair, pulling her composure around her bit by bit like an elaborate veil.
“You know, Your Majesty,” she drawled, “I’m not certain if this alliance you offer is in my best interest.”
Kirill clenched his teeth but kept his face smooth and emotionless. “Oh?”
“No.” Dizona picked up her goblet again, staring down at the red liquid inside as she swirled it around. “You see, thus far, you have not impressed me as a ruler who is sensitive to his people’s needs. Why should I believe that you would do any better as a political partner?”
Despite knowing that she was attempting to manipulate him, Kirill couldn’t help but bristle at the insult. He worked very hard to be attentive to his people’s needs—especially since marrying Irina, a woman who made it her mission to befriend every creature that slithered out from the dark forest—political value be damned.
He met Dizona’s eyes. “And what needs of yours have I been neglecting?”
To the demoness’s credit, she didn’t take advantage of his word choice to return to her lustful pursuit. Despite the rising ire crackling in the air between them, the demoness managed a neutral, nonchalant tone. “Well, there’s the wolf, to name one.” She casually drew circles on the table with her fingernail, careful not to scratch the surface.
Kirill frowned. “Wolf?”
“Yes.” Dizona sighed dramatically. “My dear grandmother lives up the mountain, through a rather dense portion of the dark forest. In her aging years, she relies on me for care packages to keep up her strength.” She raised her eyes to Kirill’s, green orbs as cold as the snow at the very tip of the mountain she spoke of. “Lately, every messenger I send with my care packages fails to arrive at my dear grandmother’s—and they never return to me.” She put a hand to her cheek, the stark red of her fingernails a sharp contrast to her pale skin, her face the very picture of distress. “I’m afraid the wolf has eaten them all.”
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes left Kirill with a headache that started at the base of his skull and worked its way around to his forehead. He drummed his fingers on the contract still lying forlornly on the table between them. “An oversight on my part to be certain. I was unaware such a problem existed in the forest. Strange, since my lovely wife is quite close with the leshii. I wouldn’t have expected a murderous beast of the caliber you describe to escape the notice of the wood lords.”
“The leshii,” Dizona scoffed. “Reclusive forest spirits. It doesn’t surprise me they didn’t bother to report the beast to you. After all, it’s not like any wolf would bother to eat such plantlike creatures, and what do they care about my poor old grandmother starving in her meager hut up the mountain?” She toyed with the edge of her bodice, fingers dancing along the expensive silk. “Besides, perhaps they feel that allowing the wolf to eat your people is part of the political alliance you forged with the werewolf prince of Sanguenay.”
An image of Prince Etienne’s wife Loupe leapt to Kirill’s mind. As meek as the woman had once seemed, she was ferociously protective of the wolves she treated more like children than animals. Her protection had caused the numbers of the lupine creatures in the forest between Sanguenay and Dacia to swell, and it wouldn’t surprise Kirill in the least if Loupe was willing to look the other way if a wolf happened to eat someone here and there. Her stepfamily had done a number on the new princess of Sanguenay and she most certainly preferred wolves to people. Kirill snorted to himself. It was probably fortunate that she’d managed to find a werewolf to be her husband.
Blinking away the ridiculous train of thought, Kirill refocused his attention on Dizona. “I assure you, my alliance with Prince Etienne makes no such allowances. In fact, I’d like to address your situation immediately. I will find this wolf that has been causing such hardship for your beloved grandmother and I will make certain he never interferes with your messengers again.”
“Oh, how kind of you, Your Majesty,” Dizona said sweetly. “Would you mind terribly taking a parcel with you to deliver to my dear granny? Since you’ll be heading in that direction anyway…”
Kirill forced a tight smile as he gathered the unsigned contract. “Of course.”
Chapter Two
‡
“Sweets and a bottle of wine?” Irina swiped at a lock of her black hair that had fallen in front of her, blocking her view of the basket sitting on the small marble stand in the bedroom she shared with her husband. She tucked it behind her ear as she eyed the dark bottle wrapped in linen that was nestled amongst an array of sweet buns and cookies. Just the smell of all that sugar was enough to make her teeth ache and she put her hand to her jaw as she lifted her attention from the basket to her husband.
Recently, Kirill had had his almost-white blond hair cut short so that it no longer fell in long straight waves past his shoulders. Though part of her missed his long hair, Irina had to admit the shorter cut was flattering to Kirill’s chiseled features, accenting the strong lines of his jaw and providing an unrestricted view of his winter blue eyes. “If her grandmother is ill, stew would be more appropriate, something solid with meat and potatoes. Sweets for dessert perhaps, but a meal of nothing but sugar and alcohol…” Irina shook her head.
“If this old woman is Dizona’s grandmother, I’ll eat solid food for a week,” Kirill muttered.
Irina smiled fondly as she watched Kirill settle his coal-black cloak around his form, checking to make sure his weapons didn’t ruin the lines of the garment and draw undo attention to his preparations. The cloak was roomy, plenty big enough to cover a multitude of blades, the small pouch of potions his wizard Isai had brewed for him, and a healthy bag of gold coins for “greasing the wheels” as he was wont to say. It amused Irina that her husband always seemed prepared for a siege, no matter what the occasion.