Praise for the writing of Alyssa Brooks
Lust Upon Roses
An eternal king who has vowed not to fall in love, an independent modern heroine who shares the same vow, and a wizard who can’t be trusted to cast his spells without adding a dash of mischief and mayhem! A magic read in all senses, Alyssa Brooks has woven a fairy tale into the modern world with passion, romance and heroism. Some spells aren’t made to be broken!
‑‑ Saskia Walker, author of Along for the Ride (coming soon from Loose Id)
After reading this story, I'm still not sure which part amuses me most: the headstrong heroine or the "knight-in-shining-armor" who is bound and determined to save this damsel in distress! Parts of the story were funny, then there were parts that absolutely smoked! The love scenes are intense and the word play humorous. I loved the part when....oh, wait, you'll have to read it yourself!
‑‑ Alicia Sparks, author of Desert Moon: Ah-ten (Loose Id)
I loved it! Nice and tight and sexy! A great combination of a modern day woman and a gallant, lusty knight. Grace and Edmund need each other more than even they realize. The first in a series, I can't wait to meet Edmund's brothers...especially if they're as yummy as Edmund!
‑‑ Jeanne Barrack, author of Amber Inferno (coming soon from Loose Id)
SPELL OF LOVE:
LUST UPON ROSES
Alyssa Brooks
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book is rated:
For explicit sexual content, graphic language, and some violence.
Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses
Alyssa Brooks
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © April 2005 by Alyssa Brooks
Excerpt of Tales of Enchantment 1: The Question of Royalty copyright November 2004 by Kai Andersen
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-104-0
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Ansley Velarde & Karen W. Williams
Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin
www.loose-id.com
Prologue
Kingdom of Wulfhere, 1434
Heavy knocking roused Edmund. Tossing back and forth on the feather mattress, he futilely resisted rousing. The whoreson would splinter the door if he did not cease. With a groan he tossed over. Yanking the pillow, then the fur coverlet, over his head, he prayed for mercy. Would they not go away?
There was no mercy for his swollen head. The banging echoed off the stone walls and closed in on him. His mead-soaked mind thumped in pain.
The whoreson! He threw his pillow to the floor just as the door crashed open, splintering where the latch had held.
“I’ll wait no longer, Prince Edmund, whether I am your servant or not. Rise, and rise now.” Percy yanked up the pillow as he stalked into the room. Annoyance danced in the graying old man’s steel-blue eyes. His furrowed brows creased aged wrinkles across his face. “Your king awaits; quite angrily, I might add.”
Going to the arched window, Percy thrust the wooden shutters open. Sunlight spilled into the room, proving the day would be warm and sunny and perfect for fishing.
Harsh reality flooded Edmund. He jerked upright. “Tell me I’m not late.”
“I’ve been trying to rouse ye for an hour. Your father refuses to start the banquet without ye. You latched the door, fool.” Shaking his head, Percy stalked into the wardrobe. “Serves ye just and fair after all the spirits and whores last night.”
“No man can get enough mead or tits.” Edmund scratched the hair on his chest, a smile curling on his face as he thought of the wench he’d thoroughly ravished the night before.
He hoped he’d paid her well for her services. But he couldn’t rightly remember anything but the stroke of his cock ramming into her. He licked his lips, still swollen from all the kissing. He was a man of pleasures. One who could never get his fill of life, and that included having women writhing beneath him.
“Your father has made enough threats. Yet you push him so.” Percy stalked from the wardrobe, Edmund’s least favorite tunic in hand. The deep ribbed blue velvet and red paisley sleeves, along with matching tights, made for an atrocity in coloring. Hardly the dress for a banquet as important as his father was throwing today. With the snap of his hand, Percy shook them out and held them up. “Dress now, before the king has both our heads.”
Edmund groaned again. “Nay. I’ll have your head. You forget to whom you speak, old man. Get me a different tunic. The royal purple one.”
Percy yanked at the wooden toggles on the back of the tunic, unbuttoning them. “Don’t you dare to threaten me, Edmund. Prince and heir to the throne you may be, but you forget who wiped your arse and snotty nose when you were a short one.” He held up the blue-and-red atrocity. “Thy purple tunic is being mended, and you are late”
Groaning, Edmund slid his arms into the tunic. What good was having a wardrobe designed to be all the rage if the fabric’s color were repulsive? He was a prince. The people followed him. Now his eyes would be blinded by never-ending red and blue tunics. He should have never gone hawking and let the old man meet with his tailor.
“On with it already,” Edmund grunted. “What has Father thrown the whole castle into an uproar over, anyway?”
Percy brought his dark blue pointed shoes, slid them over his stockings, and tied back the toes. “No one knows why the king is hosting the banquet. But I do know you are late. Have a care, and move your arse to the hall before you are the one to lose his head.”
Edmund laughed at the suggestion and shrugged as he walked out the door. “Nay. Father will understand. He knows a man of my youth needs to spread his seed.”
But regardless, his innards twisted with more than the consequence of too much mead. Father’s impatience with him was beginning to grow. He had stressed the importance of today’s banquet yesterday, as if it were a life-or-death matter.
And here he was, late, again.
Edmund picked up his pace, taking the dim, winding stone staircase two steps at a time. At the bottom, he swung open the slatted wooden door into the bright day. The sun hovered directly above him, reminding him that it was high noon. Even so, he crossed the courtyard in a confident walk. It wouldn’t do to have anyone see his worry. A prince was always regal and stately.
He studied the grand entrance to the keep. On either side of the brilliantly painted red door, guards stood in full, polished armor. The metal of their halberds gleamed in the sunlight, pronouncing the sharpness of the blade on the long stick.
Something truly must be amiss today. What hath Father in st
ore?
He gave a servant a nod of acknowledgment as the man swung open the door to the keep. Following a long red velvet carpet, he sniffed the strong, delicious scent in the air. Lamprey. This truly was a grand occasion. The special fish was rarely ever served.
Again his innards twisted. He was in trouble.
Another set of servants swung open the doors to the great hall. Sunlight radiated through the green-tinted windows into the long room set for a magnificent feast. White cloths covered the tables. Each place was set with the finest trenchers of precious metals. New tapestries hung on the walls, and fresh rushes had been spread on the stone floor. Next to his father stood a tall, well-aged wizard in a heavy white gown trimmed in gold.
An anxious bubble caught in Edmund’s windpipe. Without realizing it, he cleared his throat as he stepped into the grand room. All eyes fell on him, filled with anger and annoyance. Hell’s mercy!
Everyone sat with nary a drop of wine to drink or food for their bellies. Candles burned and dripped down nearly to their base. The stench of sweat wafted through the air from so very many nervous people. The lute was silent, and the tension so great he could hear it in the air.
Holding up his chin, he walked to the high table where his father sat on a throne. With every step, he was all too aware of his father’s angry blue eyes burning through him A perfectly trimmed graying beard covered his stern chin, the lines on his face wrinkled with knowledge and wisdom. His royal purple robe trimmed in white fur hung to his knees, his crown glistening it was so polished. Just his presence was enough to make one drop to one’s knees.
Each of his five brothers stared at him with icy blue eyes. His gaze fell to each one of them, taking in the steely focus of his fair-haired siblings. Thurston, the fighter of the family, Bryhan, the dragon hunter, Thomas, the magic man, Isake, the religious one, and Giles, the ornery babe of the family. All five of them looked ready to jump atop him and wallop the life from him.
Hell’s mercy. If anyone should understand, it should be his brothers. They too were prowling young men with money and good looks. The ladies dropped at their feet, hungry for their strength and power.
But he found no sympathy in their hard, set jaws or flattened lips. Only his mother dared smile at him, but he could see the bother in her tawny doe eyes.
“Your Majesty.” With a swallow, Edmund bowed and took the few stairs to the platform the table sat upon. His seat was to the right of his father; his mother, the queen, was to the left. Pulling out the heavy, ornately carved chair, he sat down.
It would have been kinder for his father to state his anger outright. Instead he sat in cold, stony silence, leaving Edmund to worry. For once in his life, he’d rather take the embarrassment than be made to squirm as he was.
Minutes passed, leaving plenty of time for a huge knot to form in Edmund’s throat. He swallowed and swallowed again before his father stood. For several moments, he held the room’s attention with his regal air alone. Then he nodded.
“Let the feast begin,” he boomed.
At that, the sound of trumpets filled the air. Servants filed into the room holding platters for the first course. Bread, cheese, and steaming hot soup filled the sideboards, ready to be served. Rich red wine flowed from the pitchers of cup-holders into the guest’s goblets.
Edmund swallowed his anxiety. Father couldn’t be that mad.
A servant shook with tiny trembles as she overfilled his trencher with cheese and bread. Realizing she feared his father’s wrath, he dismissed her with the flick of his hand. She scurried off, and Edmund set his gaze to the food in front of him. Hell’s mercy, but he was famished.
He licked his lips, ready to tear into a chunk of hard bread with his teeth. Just as he brought it to his mouth, his father stood. He had but to clear his throat, and all dropped their food, directing their attention to their king in but a heartbeat.
The wizard handed his father a golden chalice, and his father held it up. “I would have each of my six sons and my queen drink from this cup before they begin their meals.”
His father turned to him, handing him the chalice. He knew not what was in the cup, only that it was the strange wizard’s concoction. Whatever it was, it very likely held dangerous magic.
Edmund accepted the cup, having no other choice. One never denied the king outright, Father or not. He tried not to allow his trembling lips to show as he sipped from the cup. A putrid, sour liquid filled his mouth, gagging him as he swallowed it.
He passed the cup to his youngest brother. Giles took his drink and passed the cup on. Down the line it went, to Thomas, Bryhan, Thurston, and Isake. The cup circled the table, their mother the last to drink. Sourness contorted her lips as she sipped the liquid potion. Then she passed the cup back to Father.
Father held the cup high. “Today, I, King Edmund the first of Wulfhere, have ensured the royal family line. Druins move upon us from the north, their plans to attack our kingdom and take our castle under siege within two moons. We will not fall to them. As I drink this cup of wine, I ensure that I will be beyond death, as my sons and wife now are.”
Edmund nearly gasped with the crowd. Beyond death? He couldn’t mean ...
A murmur hummed across the room as his father held the chalice high and prepared to take his sip.
Suddenly the doors to the hall crashed open. Several of their own knights charged the room, dressed in armor for a battle. One pulled back an armed crossbow, sending an arrow whizzing through the air. Its mark was accurate, striking their father through the heart. Screams filled the air as he stumbled backwards. The rushes rustled as he collapsed to the floor. The blood-red liquid of the potion spilled forth onto the dried greenery.
The great hall erupted into madness. The betraying knights attacked, more flooding the room. Everyone dashed about, desperate for an escape. Blood and terror spread like fire.
Panic took over Edmund, and he flew to his feet, grabbing his mother and pulling her from her chair where she sat frozen and sobbing.
“Run, Mother. Run and hide in the kitchen.” He thrust her into motion, then charged the attacking knights with no fear. He would die before he let anyone hurt his dear mother.
His brothers followed suit. With their eating knives as their only weapons, they attacked the betrayers with their inadequate weapons. In but a heartbeat of his assailment, a sword sliced through Edmund’s stomach. The blade pierced directly though his hard, muscled gut before the enemy withdrew it.
But no blood spilled. No pain overtook him.
Edmund sucked in a breath, realizing his wizard’s magic had been true. He could not die.
“Have no fear, for your blood will not flow!” he shouted to his brothers. “The wizard’s magic has saved us from death.”
He and his brothers fought the armed men like madmen, taking over their weapons and slaughtering them like the swine they were. In no time, the betrayers lay dead at their feet along with many of their own people and servants. Those that lived stood in horror and shock, shrinking back against the walls as if unsure what to do.
Edmund dropped the sword in his hand and went to his father. Kneeling, he looked into his father’s blue eyes. The king was fading. “Had you been on time ...” Gagging, his father coughed up blood. “... you are king now. It is time to be a man.”
His father’s eyes fell shut, and his chest ceased to rise.
“No!” Edmund’s shout echoed from the stone walls. He shook his father, desperate for him to regain his breath. “No!”
In that moment, he swallowed the realization that he’d killed his own father. His king. He bowed his head, unable to cry. He could no longer be a boy who let emotion rule him. He drew a deep breath, and with it he grew up and into his crown.
“Prepare to be besieged!” he shouted. “All but the strong go into hiding. Alert the villagers. Hide all that you can in the dungeons. Able-bodied men will man the cannons. Brothers, we alone go into battle, because we alone cannot be defeated. In my father’s nam
e, this kingdom will not be lost!”
Chapter One
Grace bit her lower lip. Hard.
Turning her back, she’d held back the nasty retort. Be friendlier? She’d like to toss this rum and Coke right in her boss’s face. Oh, if only she could tell him to screw it.
Geez! She hated this stupid club. The brilliant, multicolored, constantly blinking lights gave her a damn headache. The smoke gagged her. The asshole customers treated her like shit.
Hell, soon she wouldn’t be able to hear them, though. She’d go deaf from the too loud music.
Before Tom bought the place, the secret wild side of her had liked working here. The pay was good, and it could be exciting. But Tom had turned this place from classy to tacky.
How could such well-off people enjoy acting like such trailer trash? Even she, who actually lived in a doublewide, didn’t act so low.
Giving the drink a little swirl with a silver plastic stirrer, she sat it in front of the drooling customer at the long cherrywood bar. He gave her a lusty smile, his eyes never leaving her exposed chest. Just like the hundreds of other sleazeball drunks in the club tonight. The men couldn’t tell the difference between the strippers on stage and a bartender.
Geez! Grace turned quickly and leaned against the back counter. She counted to ten, trying to hang onto her last shred of patience. Another month. One more, and she’d be through college.
She could quit this place and get a real job. She’d be doing what she wanted to do.
Picking up a glass, she dipped it in the suds-filled miniature sink and began to wash it. There were customers who needed drinks, but she needed to compose herself first. Or someone was going to end up with a fat lip.
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