Fated Mate

by Juniper Hart

  “At least we live in an era now where divorce is commonplace,” she joked, causing Ansel to laugh again. “Hey, by the way, whatever happened to Tony?”

  Ansel waved his hand dismissively. “Tomorrow, we deal with the aftermath of today, but tonight, we celebrate.”

  “Why do I feel like that is going to be part of our wedding vows?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow as Ansel picked up the phone to order champagne. She fell back on the bed, inhaling deeply, and she waited for a sense of unease to follow. She was ecstatic to find that there was nothing but a deep, warm pleasure radiating through her body.

  Things are finally the way they’re supposed to be, she thought happily. It has taken seven hundred years, but we are precisely where we should be. Some things are worth waiting for.

  Nora stared at the glittering gem on her finger. It fit perfectly, of course.

  Ansel hung up the phone.

  “They will be right up,” he assured her, nestling back against her.

  “Do we have time for a quickie?” she teased.

  “There is always time for a quickie,” he replied.

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later

  The easel was awash with a myriad of colors, a stunning contrast to anything Nora had created in the recent past.

  I may be getting my groove back, she thought, smiling at the piece as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  “Nora? I’m back from my run!” Ansel called from the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Yes, thank you!” she yelled back. “I’ll be right out.” She slipped off her smock and cast one last look at the painting before slipping from her makeshift studio into the kitchen, where Ansel stood gleaming with sweat as he chugged a glass of orange juice.

  “Were you painting?” he asked, and she nodded, a smile illuminating her features.

  “I think I may be recalling how to use color again,” she informed him brightly. “I’ll show you when you have a minute.”

  “I always have a minute,” Ansel said, stepping toward her for a kiss. Nora ducked her head to the side before his lips met hers.

  “Turn that up!” she cried quickly, pointing at the television on the counter.

  Ansel rushed over to find the remote, and his eyes widened as he turned to see what had caught Nora’s attention.

  “—pled guilty yesterday afternoon,” said a newscaster, “but the judge is calling for an evaluation of Mr. Valducci’s mental faculties, as he has consistently rambled on about dragons and hellfire since a rash of bizarre fires have followed him. The gun used to kill Carolyn Halpstern was found in Mr. Valducci’s possession the evening he was arrested, next to the charred remains of his hired security, Luca Giovanni. The cause of Mr. Giovanni’s death is unknown, as the cause of the fire has not been determined. In other news—”

  Ansel hit mute on the television and glanced at Nora.

  “Well,” he said flatly. “I guess you know what happened to Valducci now.”

  Nora stared at him for a long moment.

  “Did he really kill her?” she whispered. “That girl?”

  Ansel let out a deep sigh. “I believe he did, yes.”

  Nora moved toward the entranceway.

  “The post is here!” she called. “I hope there are more RSVPs. I am getting tired of second guessing.”

  “What is our count so far?” Ansel asked as she scooped the letters from the basket.

  “Fifty-six. Still waiting on another fifty plus guests.”

  “What ever happened to you and me and a justice of the peace?” he teased.

  “That was your idea, love, not mine,” Nora reminded him. “And I thought you were the one boasting that you could afford it.”

  “That was before you started cooking for me,” Ansel argued. “Now I’m gaining weight, and Louis warned me that I’m getting too fat to fight.”

  “You’re a heavyweight. You’ll be fine.” Nora ripped through the envelopes, relishing Ansel’s grimace.

  “We have letter openers for such things, love,” he told her.

  “Not everyone was raised a prince, dear,” she shot back as she pulled out the letters one by one. Ansel sat back and watched her expression. His brow furrowed when he noticed Nora smiling after she had opened one of the letters.

  “What is it?” he asked, and she turned to smile at him.

  “Your father and his new wife are attending,” she said. “And there is a note here saying that he has also asked your brothers to come.”

  Ansel gaped at her.

  “What?” he gasped. “You invited my father?”

  She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought he might say no, but it seems like he has come to his senses, after all.”

  Ansel’s eyes narrowed, and a conflicted look crossed his face.

  “Why did he agree?” he wondered. “He was always so against us being together. I feel like there is something underhanded going on…” Then he turned back to her. “What did you say to him?”

  Nora shook her head.

  “I merely sent him an invitation,” she replied. “And this is his response.” Ansel, however, still didn’t look convinced, and Nora sighed deeply. “It may have something to do with the present I gave him a few months ago, too.”

  “What present?” Ansel demanded. “You didn’t tell me anything about a present.”

  “It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  Ansel narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What did you send him?”

  “I delivered it myself, actually,” Nora answered sweetly. “I gave him a Frenchman.”

  Her fiancé stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What? He loathes the French!”

  “I know. That is why I sent this one along.”

  For a moment, Ansel did not seem to understand, but then his eyes widened in surprise, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Did you… did you really…?”

  Nora grinned and nodded her head. “I gave him Jerome, love. I delivered a Frenchman in shackles for your father to do as he wishes with him. Last I heard, he makes an excellent court jester and sleeps at His Highness’ feet. I do hope he brings him to the wedding as an ottoman.”

  Ansel’s jaw dropped open, and he stared at her for a long moment before he burst into laughter.

  “You are truly something else, you know that?” he snorted. Nora leaned in to give him a kiss.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s why you love me.”

  THE END

  Thank You

  Thank you for reading my book. Readers like you make an author’s world shine. If you’ve enjoyed this book, or any other books by Juniper Hart or another author, please don’t hesitate to review them on Amazon or Goodreads.

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  Thank you very much! I am giving you a virtual high-five!

  Juniper Hart

  Other Books You Might Enjoy

  Have you read the Birch Mountain Alphas series?

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  Captured by the Shifter

  Unleashed by the Shifter

  Caught Between Shifters

  Deceived by the Shifter

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  About the Author

  Juniper Hart is a romance writer from the Midwest, who loves telling the insta-love tales of werewolves, dragons, and other paranormal heroes. She specializes in sweet and short alpha romances that always promise a happily ever after.

  Juniper resides in Miami, Florida with
her husband and rambunctious blue-eyed son.

  Find out more about Juniper Hart at SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Bonus Content: Dragon Shifter Romances

  Part I

  Royal Dragons 1: Forbidden Mate

  Royal Dragons: Books 1 & 2

  Text Copyright © 2017 by Alexis Davie

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2017

  Publisher

  Secret Woods Books

  info@secretwoodsbooks.com

  www.SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Royal Dragons 1: Forbidden Mate

  By Alexis Davie

  1

  Nyle’s eyes stared directly above him, tracing the swirls and vines of the detailed painting that adorned the dome ceiling. Perhaps it had been the thousandth time in his life that he had sat in that very seat and gazed at the metallic gold artwork, his mind always questioning how an artist had been able to keep such a steady hand while being so high up. Then again, maybe it wasn’t as perfect as it looked, and it only looked flawless because the painting was so high up from where he sat.

  “Nylyrias, are you even listening to your father?” his mother, Asalei, called over to him. She had never been the best at masking her frustration, her tone pinched with annoyance.

  With his Italian shoes still kicked up onto the Macassar ebony table, he rolled his eyes in the direction of his parents. His father sat at the head of the table, just a few seats down from Nyle.

  Nyle raised a platinum white brow. “I thought it was evident that I wasn’t.”

  “Don’t be a smartass, Nylyrias. This is serious,” Thalydias scorned, his eyes narrowed at his son.

  “How many times have we had this talk?” Nyle retorted.

  “Apparently not enough for you to comprehend the gravity of the matter,” Thalydias glared. “Son, you must stop playing these games. Staying out all night in the city, avoiding our calls, missing your appointments with the matchmaker. The fate of our kingdom is in your hands, and you're doing nothing to seal it.”

  Nyle’s eyes went back up to the golden swirls on the ceiling as he mused in frustration. He had to keep a level head; the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at his ill father. His parents were making it hard, though, with their constant badgering and treating him as though he was a child. Although, he supposed for their lifespans, he was just a child; his father was one hundred-and-two, and he didn’t look a day over forty. Still, Nyle was twenty-five and didn’t need his parents dictating every move he made—or his future. His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair, his jaw clenching in a repetitive rhythm until he calmed down enough to form words.

  “So, because you’re ill, I don’t have the right to meet my soulmate and fall in love?” Nyle questioned as calmly as he could, though his frustration was there.

  “I’m not just ill, Nylyrias. I’m dying. You need to understand and accept that because there is no telling when my time will come and when you will have to take over. We cannot wait for you to meet a soulmate that may not come along for decades. You need to secure a union and make our bloodline look strong, my son. We have been going around in these circles for the last year, Nyle. It’s time to stop being a child and be the man I need you to be. Now, quit being selfish and start taking action for your family and your people,” Thalydias preached to him, burning holes into Nyle’s chin with his gaze as his son kept his face turned to the ceiling.

  Out of growing irritation, Thalydias stood and slammed his massive hands down on the table, causing a loud bang to echo through the chamber. The loud noise made Nyle nearly fall out of his chair, catching himself with the edge of the table and sitting up straight.

  “Do you understand me, Nylyrias?” his father boomed, his intense gold eyes narrowing in on his son.

  With his own honey-gold eyes locked on his father’s menacing gaze, Nyle answered, “Perfectly.”

  While still holding eye contact, Nyle rose from his seat and straightened the light gray suit jacket he was wearing. “As I recall, part of me acting responsibly for my family is to keep up appearances with the family company. If you excuse me, I’m going to go do just that.”

  Nyle pushed in his chair before turning to walk out of the dining room. Really, he just needed an excuse to escape from their badgering.

  “Don’t miss your date tonight, Nylyrias. A driver will pick you up at the office at six o’clock,” Thalydias called after his son.

  Nyle offered a wave over his head to acknowledge he heard what his father said, but didn’t offer a verbal response. He pushed open the heavy door and quickly closed it behind him, a huff immediately leaving his lips. Never in his life had Nyle been so disrespectful to his father. Growing up, he thought Thalydias was god-like. A being that was all powerful, wise, and immortal. Hell, up until a year ago, Nyle had never spoken against his father or gone against his wishes. It wasn’t until Thalydias fell ill that the image was shattered, and at first, Nyle had bent over backwards to make his father happy and help him in any way he could, but then Thalydias and Asalei started trying to force him into an arranged marriage. It went against the very DNA of their kind. They had soulmates, and to marry anyone short of that… well, it just felt wrong.

  He tried to force the thoughts from his mind as he made his way through the palace. Nyle’s eyes caught a glimpse of the elegant off-white swirls that covered his skin when his sleeve fell as he placed a cigarette between his lips. The markings almost looked like faded scars since they were so close to his pale skin color. Sometimes he envied the other Royal Dragons, those whose dragon forms were burgundy or gray. At least their markings looked like tattoos on their human shape. He looked like he got in some sort of freak accident at a wallpaper factory that left him scarred with a print. Refastening his cufflink so that they didn’t show, Nyle then brought his fingers to the tip of his cigarette. With a snap, a single orange flame flickered into existence just long enough to light the cigarette.

  His lungs filled with the soothing aromas, smoking an ancient blend of organic herbs his people possessed. The taste had always reminded him earl grey tea, and it smelled like frankincense with a hint of citrus. The herbal cigarettes put traditional tobacco products to shame. They were safe—yet his mother still hated when he smoked them. Asalei despised the musk it gave him.

  As he dragged on the cigarette, Nyle made his way through the halls of the palace and out the front door. He flicked his ashes on the steps as his eyes landed on the single black town car parked in the driveway. A driver he recognized stood next to it.

  For a moment, Nyle thought about ditching him and driving one of his own cars, yearning to get a taste of freedom for the afternoon, but his father’s words echoed in his head. A driver would be picking him up at the office at six that evening, and he would be in deep shit if he didn’t show up. Letting out a heavy sigh, Nyle walked over to the car, giving the driver a nod before climbing into the back.

  His head immediately leaned against the window, watching the tall pine trees go by in a blur as the car made its way down the long and windy driveway. The Flamme estate was in the middle of a forest, forty minutes outside the city. Nyle took a deep inhale of the cigarette, desperate to calm his nerves. The last place he wanted to go was to office. It wasn’t like he did much there.

  Nyle was technically the president of the La Flamme Foundation, a non-profit organization created by La Flamme Corporation. In his position as president, Nyle was meant to oversee the corporation’s donations and communication with charitable organizations. Basically, the foundation hosted events and galas
as a way to network.

  Nyle’s daily work had been handed off to the employees of the foundation—his title was basically honorary and gave him a way to look like a productive member of society. He made an effort to go into the offices once a week to hold up appearances, but he certainly didn’t prefer to spend his time there. It was boring, and he despised having to interact with the humans who were corporately driven and always attempting to impress him. They all seemed soulless, despite the fact his team only handled charity work.

  When Nyle first took the job, he figured the people he would be forced to deal with on a semi-regular basis would be decent because they chose to work for a non-profit, but he was wrong. They were all charming, but so insincere they could have been snake oil salesmen.

  Nyle busied himself by playing games on his phone while riding in the back of the car and smoking too many herbal cigarettes to kill time. He despised the drive into town, especially when he wasn’t driving himself. Eventually, the car came to a stop outside of La Flamme Corporation’s headquarters.

  Trying to wipe the look of dismay from his face, Nyle stepped from the car when the driver opened the door. Before he could take a step, one of his board members came marching outside with an artificial smile plastered on his face. His offices were located on the thirtieth floor, so he had no idea how anybody knew he had arrived. His father must have called ahead.