by Jenika Snow
Tears streamed down her cheeks, emotion exploding out of her. She knew what she wanted to say, but the word was lodged in her throat.
“Baby, your silence is making me even more nervous than I already am.” He chuckled, but it was tight, matching his expression.
She chuckled a watery laugh. Dropping her hand from her mouth, she curled it into a fist at her side. “You know I’ll marry you. You’re it for me.”
He had her in his arms a second later.
“You’re my life, Tristan, and I love you something fierce.” She rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and feeling at home, at peace. “Say it all official like,” he murmured against her hair.
“Yes, Kash, I’ll marry you. Of course I will. I love you.”
He squeezed her tighter, and she couldn’t help but give a wheezed-out laugh. “But if you hold me any tighter, there might not be a bride to walk down the aisle to you.”
He loosened his hold and pulled back, cupping her cheeks and smiling down at her. “You’re it for me, Tristan. You’re mine.”
The End
The Underground Series
Something Fierce
His Wrath: coming soon
Deeper: coming soon
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FOR THE KING
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © June 2018 by Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: June 2018
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover model: Fabian Petrina
Photo provided by: Wander Book Club
Editor: Kasi Alexander
Cover Design: Designs by Dana
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Willow. Flower shop owner and commoner.
I was her king, a ruthless and brutal ruler who didn’t back down.
And from the moment I saw her I knew she was mine. I had to have her, not just in my bed but also by my side. As my queen.
So I had her taken from her home and made a deal with her. I’d make sure her ailing mother was taken care of and pay off her debts if she agreed to one thing.
Be my wife and carry my heir.
What I wanted I got, and the only thing that I wanted more than all the riches and jewels in the world was her. Willow.
Warning: Get your fancy clothes on—or off depending on how you roll—and get ready to dive into one hell of a royal love story. It’s got everything that presses your book buttons: a safe read that’s swoony, filthy, and delivers a HEA. It’s true what they say about this king ... he does always get what he wants.
1
King Victor
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t think it would go over very well if we took her from her home and demanded she marry you.”
I clenched my teeth and turned around, staring at Frederick, who looked at me like he should have kept his mouth shut. He should have. Hell, I was about to go over there myself and tell Willow that she was mine, that she had been mine for the last year.
From the moment I saw her in the market a year ago, standing behind her flower stall, the scent of the fresh flora not masking the fact that she smelled the sweetest, I knew what I had to do. All I’d wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my bed, parting those sweet thighs and claiming her as mine.
I hadn’t been with a woman for years, well before I saw Willow and wanted her in my bed, my life, and by my side. Years I’d been celibate, focusing on ruling my kingdom, making it grow, protecting it.
But now it was time for me to be happy, have a family. I wanted all of that with Willow. Only her.
But I’d bided my time, waiting until I had everything secure, could make sure when she was brought to me that everything would go according to plan. She wouldn’t deny me, her king, her ruler, but I wanted her to desire me the way I did her. I didn’t want to keep her as a prisoner; even though I would because letting her go was not an option. I’d waited long enough to make her mine, had been more patient than I ever had before.
What I wanted I took. But the only thing I wanted in this fucking world was Willow. Crown be damned, she’d be mine.
The time had finally come for me to take a wife—Willow—and put my heir inside of her.
* * *
Willow
I didn’t know what I was doing here—amongst these lavish, grand items. This was the first time I’d ever been inside the palace and it was just as magical as I’d envisioned. I was a simple shopkeeper, selling fresh cut flowers in the village center, barely making ends meet to support my mother and myself. With her ailing heath, working the flower shop—one she’d built herself from the ground up—was the only thing keeping the meds in stock and my mother staying comfortable.
I couldn’t be away, even for this short amount of time. I was losing money, but then again, it wasn’t like I could deny the king.
What he wanted he got. Always.
So when the king’s men came to my stall and demanded I come with them, I was smart enough not to ask any questions.
And so here I was, a twenty-two-year-old florist, afraid of what would happen next, worried about my mother, but more nervous as to why King Victor wanted to see me … a nobody.
And amongst the uncertainty of what was going to happen I couldn’t help but think about King Victor. Big and strong, powerful and brutal, he was a force to be reckoned with. Arrogant and demanding, no one dared come up against him for fear of losing. And they always did.
But what would he want with me? I had nothing to offer, which made this whole situation even more confusing and concerning.
I heard footsteps and turned around to face the massive wooden double doors. My heart started beating this frantic rhythm and I clasped my hands behind my back, trying to appear calm even though I was anything but. And then I watched as the door handle turned, the large slab of wood being pushed open to reveal one of the servants. He was dressed in black and white attire, his head bowed as he stepped aside and showed respect for the man who entered.
Everything in my body stilled, tightened as I stared at King Victor. He was an imposing man, easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was muscular, the white button-down shirt and slacks he wore not hiding the kind of raw power he held.
And his silver crown glinted under the light, a show of his authority.
I swallowed, this lump in my throat forming and refusing to go down. I knew I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights; wide-eyed and frightened. He stepped farther into the room, his strong, powerful arms at his sides, his focus trained right on me.
“Leave us,” he said to the servant without breaking eye contact with me. Once the door was shut and we were locked in together I breathed out slowly.
Could he see how afraid I was, how nervous his very presence made me? Still he said nothing directly to me and instead walked over to a cabinet. He opened it and proceeded to pour himself a glass of scotch. Turni
ng around, he lifted the bottle toward me, lifting a brow, asking me without saying anything if I wanted some. When the king offered you something you didn’t deny it.
I nodded even though I wasn’t an alcohol drinker, and that one glass would probably make me lightheaded. But to be honest I needed a little bit of liquid courage to get through whatever this was about.
Once he had my glass filled he walked over and handed it to me. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I said as I took the glass, my fingers brushing against his much larger ones. Electricity shot up my arm and right to my core. I held in the shiver that threatened to escape. He stood only a foot from me, and as he drank his scotch he stared at me.
I had to crane my neck back in order to look into his face, this man so tall and strong I felt wholly feminine in his presence. I brought the glass to my mouth and tipped it back, the liquid burning as it traveled down my throat. Sputtering as I took another drink, I could see the smirk he gave me behind his glasses.
I wanted to just come out and ask him why I was here, but I didn’t dare overstep the bounds. I was a mere commoner, which made this whole situation even more confusing.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked for an audience with you, Willow?”
He knew my name? I was shocked to hear that, given the fact there were many people that lived in our village. I was one amongst many. But he knew me?
I nodded, not able to actually say anything. I watched him, wondering what he would say next, nervous how things would play out.
“I’ve seen you at your flower shop, watched you smile as you hand customers their floral arrangements.”
He saw me, watched me?
“For a year I came to see you daily, even if you had no knowledge that your king couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” Oh, God. Was this reality? “For that year I had my self-control in check, knew restraint was what I needed. But the reality was I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to my bed, tell you with my mouth, tongue, and hands that you would be mine no matter what.”
I grew wet instantly, all nervousness vanishing as my desire climbed higher. “You want me as what?” I didn’t know if this was stepping over lines or disrespectful, but I had to know. “You want me as what, a consort?”
He didn’t speak for long seconds. But his gaze was intense, trained right on me. “My proposition is this,” he said and took a step closer to me. For a moment he said nothing else, just stared at me, his gaze dipping to my lips on several instances. “I want you as my wife, to be the mother of the next in line for the throne.” His face softened and it was such a strange thing to see. I’d always seen King Victor with this stern, intense expression, one that surely scared the hell out of anyone who thought to go up against him.
“I…” The lone word spilled from me but nothing else followed.
“Your mother is sick,” he said matter-of-factly but I could hear genuine care in his voice. It was a strange combination, especially coming from him to a commoner like myself. “I want to bring her to the palace, want my personal physician to start looking after her.”
I didn’t know what to say. His offer was worth more than he’d probably ever know.
“And this is contingent on if I marry you?” I wasn’t a fool.
He didn’t speak for long moments. “No. If you say no to the marriage proposal your mother will still be looked after by the royal physician.” My heart was thundering behind my ribs. He took a step closer and I held my breath.
“But make no mistake that if you decline my offer I’ll only try harder to make you mine.”
I knew my eyes were big, felt them widen at his declaration.
“There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”
“I’m a commoner.”
“You’re perfection.”
Could he see how fast I was breathing? Did he realize what his words did to me?
“Marriage, Willow. I offer you the throne by my side, to be the mother of my children.” His voice got lower, deeper. His gaze dropped down to my lips and I couldn’t help but lick them, an involuntary act.
Everything in me went still. I swore even my heart stopped beating. I had no idea what to say, how to respond. “I’m nobody. You have dozens of aristocratic women to choose from.” My throat was so dry, and the lump lodged in the center of it refused to go down.
He grew very serious. “None of them hold a candle to you, Willow.”
I felt my eyes widen, knew I probably looked shocked. But hell, I was. King Victor wanted me? As his wife? As the mother of his children?
“Yes, Willow,” he said and stepped closer, reaching out and brushing his fingers along my cheek. My skin felt hot instantly, yet a chill raced along my arms and legs. “I only want you. From the moment I saw you I knew you were mine.”
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