Slay Belles & Mayhem: A Medley of Dark Tales

by Dani René

  “And if I refuse?”

  “There is no choice in the matter. Whatever you do, wherever you go, you are mine. And I take care of my belongings. Now, I want you to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk more.” I step back, needing the space because I’m so close to ripping her clothes off and seeing what I now own. Turning on my heel, I make it to the door before I hear a soft whimper. She’s crying, but tears don’t afford her mercy. They only make my dick hard.

  “Will I ever see my family again?” Her question has me stalling, the door ajar, and my one foot over the threshold. When I glance over my shoulder, I see her, the girl under the façade she tries to portray, and it only makes me want her more.

  “We’ll talk in the morning.” I shut the door behind me, knowing that if I were to have stayed in that room for a moment longer, I would’ve taken everything that belongs to me. Twisting the golden key in the lock, I leave her to mull over her situation.

  I have things to do. A brother to kill. And a priest to call.

  Chapter Nine

  Scarlett

  I spent the night tossing and turning. Dreams of a big bad wolf invaded my mind and took hold of me. All I saw was a large predator following me through the woods as I tried to get home. At one point, I actually believed I was out in the cold with the enormous gray wolf following me, but when my eyes snapped open in shock, I found myself alone in the room.

  The sun is slowly lighting the sky, which in turn illuminates the bedroom. Honestly, the bed was comfortable, and I’m sure I would have had a great evening if I wasn’t being kept captive in a mansion owned by the man who’s convinced he’s going to marry me.

  I still cannot believe my father signed over my life to someone like this. Did he know Lycan long before he agreed to this preposterous contract? I wonder how long the two men who clearly want to rule my life knew each other before Lycan requested this bullshit. I’m not marrying him, and he doesn’t realize how much I’ll fight back because if he thinks otherwise, he is misleading himself.

  I need to talk to my dad and my mother because the idea of being with a man like Lycan forever doesn’t leave me all warm and fuzzy. But then the memory of what he did to me last night assaults every sense. I can’t stop the ache that slowly tightens in my stomach when I recall how his fingers taunted me.

  He’s an expert. He knows my body better than I do, but that’s only an indication of how many women he’s been with. And that’s not a man I want to spend my life with. When I do decide to give myself to someone, to take their name, it will be because I’m the only one they’re with. I don’t share, and I certainly will not be a wife forced to bear children while he goes fucking everything in a skirt.

  When the bedroom door opens again, I’m met with a gentle smile from a woman I haven’t seen before. She moves into the room and sets down a tray that has a plate covered with a silver dome. Along with coffee, which I can smell from my bed, and a glass of orange juice.

  “Mr. Shaw will be with you soon,” she says before heading out, leaving me alone to ponder just what Mr. Shaw wants to do today. Perhaps he’d like to kick a puppy. Rolling my eyes at the childish thought, I push off the bed and make my way to the tray. I reach for the coffee first, which is rich and dark, and I add a splash of milk from a small porcelain jug and a spoon of sugar, which I slowly stir into the liquid.

  “Didn’t take you for having a sweet tooth,” his deep baritone comes from behind me, and I almost drop the mug. Spinning on my heel, I take him in. Dressed casually in a pair of dark blue jeans and a Henley that is the color of emeralds, I can’t help but admire just how handsome he is.

  “What was that gunshot last night?” I ask, remembering seeing him in the darkness, hearing the loud echo ringing in my ears. His expression turns dark, his eyes simmer with rage, but with a blink, it’s gone.

  I expect an answer, but when he opens his mouth, he changes the topic. “The priest will be here this evening to meet with us. I want us to write our own vows,” he says nonchalantly as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall not far from the door.

  He knows what he’s doing. Keeping the escape route blocked. Even if I could get past him, I have a feeling I wouldn’t get very far. He’ll catch me without putting in any effort.

  “You want me to write vows?” Incredulity laces my tone, causing Lycan to chuckle. “I’m not marrying you.” I’m adamant, squaring my shoulders after setting the mug down. I’m almost certain I’m going to need two hands for this.

  “Of course you are,” he says. “It’s in the contract. There is no choice in this, Scarlett.” He straightens, pushing his hands into his pockets, which only brings my attention to his crotch, which has my stomach fluttering wildly at the thought of what he’s hiding in there.

  Snapping my eyes to his, I shake my head. “No. What you’re suggesting is archaic, just something my parents would do to piss me off. To rule my life as if I were still a child.”

  “Oh?” His dark brows arch as he watches me inquisitively. “If you force my hand, Scarlett, I will happily bind you to me and carry you down that fucking aisle.”

  “And what? You expect me to wear a pretty white dress as well?” My sneer is evident. His smirk is clear.

  “Let me make something clear,” Lycan says, taking two long strides closer to me before he continues. “You will be Mrs. Shaw by the time this week is over. On your birthday, you will be mine.” And that’s when it hits me, I turn twenty-one on Friday, and he wants us to exchange our vows.

  Narrowing my gaze, I tip my head to the side as I watch his reaction to my next question, “What do you want? Why me?”

  This time, he closes the distance between us, wedging me between his muscled thighs and the smooth, wooden vanity. “I want a queen,” he speaks. “I want a woman I can take out in public, her elegant beauty shining through as she fake smiles at everyone I introduce her to.”

  He stays silent for a moment, probably waiting for what he just said to sink in, but he doesn’t continue, and I prompt, “What else?”

  “I also want that same woman to come home with me every evening and allow me to fuck her until she can’t think straight. I want to wear her out, make her cry and scream, make her come, and then I want her to take my seed.”

  “You want arm candy and a fuck toy.” I shake my head as realization takes hold of me, and the picture becomes clear.

  “Pretty much, but…” Lycan reaches for my hair, tangling a lock of my long red strands around his finger before tugging. The corner of his mouth tilts upward when he continues, “I want someone with intelligence who can stand beside me while running my business.”

  “And that’s why you chose me?”

  “Oh, little red, no.” He shakes his head, the smirk on his lips curling, forcing my eyes to lock on the full, pinkish flesh. “I was given you as a payment. I didn’t know I would want you until the night we met.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  He tugs my hair once more before gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “When you spoke back to me, when that fire burned in your eyes, that’s when I decided I’ll take you, and your father agreed.” A flash of satisfaction dances in his eyes before he leans in, his mouth teasing its way over my cheek to my ear. “And that makes you mine.”

  The heat of his breath and the promise in his tone sends cold shivers down my spine while somersaulting my stomach with a flurry of nerves. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I want to hate Lycan, and I think I do, but also, anger at my parents takes precedence.

  “I won’t marry you.”

  “We’ll see,” Lycan responds before stepping back, leaving me cold and shivering at his absence. “Eat, enjoy your coffee. I’ll see you later.” He heads to the door and stops on the threshold, glancing at me from over his shoulder before winking. And then he’s gone, and I’m left angry and frustrated.

  Chapter Ten

  Lycan

  “Do you want us to do a hunt?” Kahn asks, his stare loc
ked on me, waiting for the approval. This is what he was trained to do. It’s something he loves. There’s no doubt in my mind, if I were to nod, he would be out here in an instant, his predatorial instincts kicking in, and his team right behind him.

  With the men here, I’m anxious. She heard the shot last night, and that’s not a good thing. When I saw him hidden in the trees, waiting, I took a chance. I pulled the fucking trigger but missed.

  He wouldn’t go back to the Bardot mansion, that much is certain. Which begs the question—where is he now? Kahn’s watching me, waiting for a response to his question. If my brother were to die today, I’m not sure I’ll feel that pain. Actually, I don’t feel anything, not anymore.

  My life has been a series of unemotional ties—one-night stands, contractual obligations—all offering nothing more than satisfaction for a moment. I never allowed myself to grow close to someone, to open what’s left of my heart, and to have someone burrow themselves into my soul.

  Scarlett is merely a means to an end. I need a family; she has a womb. Marrying her means nothing to me but ensuring she gives me an heir. I push my chair away from the desk and stand. Buttoning my suit jacket, I round my desk after picking up the folder.

  “Find him but bring him back alive.” The order is clear, and Kahn offers a nod. Once I’m alone, I head to the patio doors that overlook the garden. The spot where I breached the trees with Scarlett in my arms is right in front of me, and I wonder if she’ll ever come to terms with being my wife.

  In a few days, she’ll take my name, and there’s nothing she can do about it. If she refuses, her father will go to jail, and something tells me it’s not what she’d want. Her life has been a series of events planned by her parents. Nothing she’s done has been of her own will, and now I’ll take the last remaining choice away from her.

  I should feel bad.

  But I don’t.

  I turn and stalk out into the hallway. Gray is opening the front door to the wedding dress designer. Behind her are two younger girls pushing a brass railing with clothing bags lined up for Scarlett to choose from. When I selected the options from the website, I had her in mind. Picturing her wearing any of them had my dick hard. But what had me stroking myself was the thought of ripping the material from her body on our wedding night and claiming her.

  “Mr. Shaw,” Opal, the designer, greets with a smile. “I trust you’re well.”

  “I am. Thank you for making the trip on such short notice. My bride is rather stressed about the wedding, and I’d like to take as much off her plate as possible.” I gesture for her to follow me down to the dining room, where I’ve ensured the staff has moved furniture around for this very reason. The space is large enough for Scarlett to try on the dresses, and the mirror I had brought in from one of the guest rooms is ready and waiting.

  “Thank you,” Opal says. “I’ll get ready if you’d like to bring her down.”

  Nodding, I make my way up to my fiancée’s bedroom, and I push open the door to find her at the window seat. Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide.

  “Come.”

  Her brows furrow in confusion before she asks, “Where?”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I regard her for a long while. “You’re trying on wedding dresses.”

  “No.”

  “Scarlett, if you continue acting like this, I can just bind you to the wall and have them dress you while I watch.” The thought of her bound to a St. Andrew’s Cross flits through my mind, and I have to stifle the groan of pleasure that rumbles in my chest.

  “You’re insufferable.”

  “And you’re mine. Now come, I don’t have all day to stand here arguing with you.”

  Scarlett rolls her eyes in annoyance as she pushes off the window seat and pads barefoot toward me. She’s tiny without shoes on, and I can’t help but want to pick her up, haul her over my shoulder, and lock her in my bedroom. But that’s for our wedding night.

  She follows me down the hallway to the staircase, and we silently make our way into the dining room where the dresses are now hanging freely. All I see is white lace and satin, along with jeweled tiaras, which I know will look exquisite on Scarlett.

  Only the best for my future wife.

  “This is…”

  “Welcome, Miss Bardot. I’m Opal, such a pleasure to meet you. I trust we’ll have something to your liking.” When Opal glances at me, I nod, taking my leave as I pull the doors shut. But before I disappear from sight, I lock my gaze on Scarlett’s and give her a warning glare, behave.

  Back in my office, I’m nervous. I’ve never felt like this before. Usually, I’m calm, relaxed, even when taking down my opposition. But Scarlett does something to me.

  She makes me want.

  She makes me crave.

  She makes me human.

  And that, can never be a good thing.

  Is this the end? Not by a long shot!

  Dear Reader,

  SAVE THE DATE

  For the wedding of

  Lycan Grady Shaw & Scarlett Poppy Bardot

  April 04, 2021

  Crimson Falls, WA

  Formal invitation to follow

  About Dani René

  Dani is a USA Today Bestselling Author of a dark and deviant romance. She lives in the picturesque city of Cape Town where wine is plenty, and the views are spectacular. She's also a proud member of the Romance Writer's Organization of South Africa (ROSA). When she's not writing, she can be found binge-watching the latest TV series, or working on graphic design. She has a healthy addiction to reading, tattoos, coffee, and ice cream.

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  Part V

  The Lords of Sutherland

  Murphy Wallace

  Story adapted from The Twelve Brothers by The Brothers Grimm.

  TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains scenes that blur the line between dubious consent and rape. It also contains incest.

  Prologue

  Benjamin

  My brothers and I wait impatiently for the third day in a row, at the tops of the tallest trees in the forest that we could find. There, perched high above the canopy, so we’re able to see the castle’s tower, we wait for word from our mother, The Queen.

  Stricken with madness, Father has decided should Mother give birth to a girl, he will kill each of his twelve sons so our sister may rule the kingdom on her own. When Mother felt the early stages of labor beginning, she told our eldest brother, James, to take us and run into the forest until the baby arrives.

  If it’s a boy, Mother will fly a white flag over the tower, letting us know it’s safe to come home. If it’s a girl, a red flag will let us know we can never return to the castle again.

  “This is horseshit!” Andrew says from a branch beneath me. “I have half a mind to stage a mutiny and overthrow the crazy old bastard.”

  “I’m coming with ya,” Frederick agrees.

  “Hey!” James shouts from the tree next to us. “He’s still our father, and you’ll speak of him with respect.”

  “Father or not, he’s lost his fucking marbles,” Edward, our second eldest brother, declares.

  James shoots him a disapproving look, but they say no mor
e about it. The noises of the forest surrounding us, mixed with the slight drizzle falling from the sky, are deafening as the lot of us grow quiet again. The darkness of night is creeping in as ominous thunder rolls softly in the distance.

  “Benjamin, are you sure you can see? Climb higher!” George yells from a branch beneath me.

  My brothers decided that I would climb furthest to the top since I weigh the least of all of us. It’s tough being the youngest in the family. I love my brothers, but I’m usually the one that gets stuck doing the grunt work.

  “I told you already; I have a clear view of the tower! If you don’t believe me, I’d be happy to switch places with your ass!”

  My eyes catch James’ as they scan back to the tower. He nods and winks his approval of me. On the flip-side of being the youngest, I can’t imagine taking responsibility for eleven other people at seventeen, as James has.

  I know that he is furious with Father, but he’s trying to be an outstanding leader. He doesn’t want our brothers turning their backs on the man who taught us nearly everything we’ve ever known, even though he’s struggling with that decision himself.

  There are nine years separating him and me, with our ten other brothers falling in line along the way. Edward is sixteen, Andrew is fifteen, Frederick is fourteen, and George is thirteen. Then comes our first set of twins: Harry and Henry; they’re twelve. They’re inseparable and constantly getting themselves into trouble. After that is Louis, who is eleven, followed by Philip and Christopher, who are ten, then Alexander. He’s nine and one year older than me.