“Fuuuuck…” she groaned as she gripped the table, helplessly riding wave after wave of pleasure, and distantly, she was aware that Malac had turned sideways in his chair so he could stroke his cock while he watched her. “Please…”
“It’s a little late now,” Jude declared. “You’ve already failed. May as well just enjoy the ride.”
So Maari let go, moaning as the full force of pleasure washed over her. Rocking against the chair beneath her as she claimed what she’d been determined to avoid.
When the crest had passed, leaving her limp and sensitive, still clutching the table, her hair hanging in her face, Orlann finally turned off the toy.
Jude leaned across the corner of the table and glanced at the puddle beneath her. “Soaking,” he announced.
Malac came with a roar, and his release splattered across the table, landing in both his plate and hers.
“Well, I guess that means dinner’s over.” Jude stood. “You two go get her ready for dessert. I’ll be there shortly.
Orlann stood as Malac tucked himself back into his pants. Maari looked up at them both, defeated, still riding out the occasional aftershock. “You’re going to have to carry me,” she informed them. “Because I can’t fucking move.”
18
Jude
“What do you have for me?” Jude asked, waving the obstetrician into his office from the small, plush seating area. He closed the door behind them and leaned against the edge of the table, blocking Gareth Delayne’s dismembered head from his view. Because the doctor, it seemed, had a weak stomach. “Good news, I hope?”
If there was implicit threat in his tone, so be it.
“Interesting news, anyway.” The doctor pulled a small tablet from his pocket and began showing the king a series of charts full of colors and numbers Jude lacked the patience to interpret.
“Just give me the short version,” he barked, pushing the tablet away.
“Okay. She’s definitely fertile. And in perfect health. But according to the data I’ve analyzed from the feeds you provided, your concubine hasn’t ovulated even once since she got here.”
“Not once?” Jude growled. “In three months? But she’s bled twice since she got here.”
“That’s because her body will build up a uterine lining during the first half of her cycle, whether or not she releases an egg, and that lining must be shed. That’s technically different than menstrual bleeding, despite the similarity.”
“So, she’s truly not ovulating. How is that possible?”
The doctor shook his head. “I wish I could tell you. I could run a few more tests. But it would be helpful if I had access to medical records from close female family members. Maybe a sister or a mother. Or even an aunt—”
“That isn’t possible. Set up another appointment for her tomorrow. Run every test you can think of. And doctor, do not report this to the council. I’ll deal with them myself.”
“Of course.”
Jude escorted the obstetrician into the lobby, where he found his wife waiting in the sitting area, perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair.
“Good evening, your highness,” the obstetrician said, nodding at his queen.
“Good evening,” she returned. And when she dismissed him by turning immediately to her husband, the doctor took his leave. “Was that about me?” Geneva asked, following Jude into his office. When he didn’t answer, she closed the door at her back, boldly claiming his private space for whatever she’d come to discuss. “So then, it’s about Maari?”
“What can I do for you, Geneva?” Jude sank into the chair behind his desk. “Are you well? How’s my son?”
She laid one hand over the slight bulge of her belly. “We’re both fine. As I’m sure the doctor would have told you, if you’d summoned him to ask about me.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Have you had any further thoughts on a name?”
“She’s not pregnant, is she? Despite your best efforts?”
“Geneva, I’m not going to discuss—”
“And she won’t be.”
Jude’s focus narrowed on her. He leaned back in his chair, his hands templed over his taut stomach. “What do you know about that?”
“You still need me,” she said, pain flickering behind her eyes for an instant, before she covered it with…spite. “Maari isn’t the threat I thought she would be, because she isn’t going to have your children. Not yours, Orlann’s, or Malac’s.”
Jude stood slowly, anger wafting from him. “What have you done? Did you give her contraceptives?”
Geneva barked a laugh at him. “There was no need. The Camdens aren’t the only First Family still blessed with a gift from the gods. Maari has a gift of her own, and it means she’ll never be at your mercy, in at least this one respect.”
Jude rounded his desk and grabbed her arm as she tried to retreat, fear flashing again briefly behind her eyes. “What the living hell are you talking about?”
“She can choose not to ovulate, Jude. Didn’t the doctor just give you some kind of report confirming that? Isn’t that why he was here?”
“What do you mean? How can she choose—”
“It’s from her mother’s line. A gift they’ve kept secret for generations, for obvious reasons. As long as she doesn’t love any of you, she can choose not to ovulate. And Jude?” Geneva gloated up at him as she tugged her arm from his grip, backing slowly toward the door. “Maari Delayne fucking hates you.”
Jude pushed open Maari’s bedroom door and found his princess sitting on the edge of her bed. Naked. Clearly waiting for him.
“I made her leave the toy in,” Orlann said from the table, where he was snacking on a bowl of grapes. “But that was mostly just for me.” He gave the remote control a tap, and Maari jerked on the bed, then gave a low groan as something inside her began to move.
“Okay, please stop that,” she moaned. But her heart wasn’t in the protest. Whatever she was feeling was clearly…pleasant.
Malac stepped out of the bathroom drying his hands. “Hey. What did the doctor say?”
Jude closed the door and leaned against it. “I have some interesting news, brothers.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a look at Maari. “Our princess, it seems, must be seduced into making use of our seed.”
Look for Twisted Kingdom book 2 in late August, 2019!
Like free stories? Click here to get Glass Cage, a standalone Prison Planet novella!
Pronunciation guide
I believe that reading is a personal experience and that readers bring as much into a book as they get from that book. Including visualization for the characters and pronunciation of the names and places. So, you’re obviously free to pronounce the Dirty Lovely Broken names however you’d like.
But if you’d like to know how I pronounce them, here you go:
Maari = Mah′-ree
Jude = Jood
Orlann = Or′-lan
Malac = Mal′-eck
Annah = Ah′-nuh
Geneva = Juh-nee′-vuh
Delayne = Duh-lane′
Valemont = Val′-mont
Loborough = Low′-bor-oh
Saintton = Sane′-ton
Syrus = Sigh′-rus
A note from Emmy
So, you’ve probably noticed that this is very different from my other books. (Or, if you started with Dirty Lovely Broken, here’s your heads-up that my previous SFR books are heavier on the sci-fi and adventure and lighter in sexual content. But still not exactly sweet.) You might be wondering what prompted the change. And I wish I could tell you, but the truth is that in the middle of writing Vendetta, I had this idea about a woman who was basically given to her mortal enemies, and around the same time, this phrase popped into my head. “Men start wars, but women pay for them.” (That will probably wind up in the blurb for book 2.) The idea and the phrase seemed connected, and when I put them together, what I came up with was Dirty Lovely Broken.
My goal, once I started r
eally getting into the story, was to write a messy, complicated long-arc romance with no easy outs. No cute ribbon to wrap around the ending. What I wound up with was three men who really, in their own way, want to be with Maari, but aren’t free to just do that. (Orlann is getting there. Look for more from him in book 2.)
And for Maari, it was really important to me that she have some way to fight back. Some ability that would force those men to be honest about how they feel. To try to do right by her, as best they can. And, frankly, to really piss them off. Let’s be honest. They deserve it.
But I also wanted to make her question things. Her life. Her upbringing. Everything she’s taken for granted as true, in the somewhat gilded existence she’s lived so far. Was her brother really a hero? Did he really have a good reason for killing Cedric Camden and starting a war? And that’s just the beginning. Things are about to get pretty twisty…
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If this is the first book you’ve read by me, check out my backlist on the next page.
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Emmy
Also by Emmy Chandler
The Prison Planet series:
Guardian
Hunter
Champion
Dirty Lies
Hostage
Traitor
The Project Vetus series:
Escape
Vendetta
The Twisted Kingdom series:
Dirty Lovely Broken
About Emmy
Emmy Chandler likes tee-shirts and lattes. She firmly believes every woman deserves an armchair in front of the window, near an outlet close enough to charge an e-reader and power a mug warmer. Her perfect afternoon includes cold weather, thick blankets, warm soup, and a good book.
Emmy has another career under another name.
For more information about Emmy Chandler’s books…
www.EmmyChandler.com
Dirty Lovely Broken Page 22