by Dani Stowe
“You can escape these feelings,” I announce and reach in my right pant pocket to pull out the Bang. I shake the small pill box to hear it banging around and I put the pill container on the table. “This is what I created the Bang for. If I take this pill, only those feelings of love and—” I cough again, “lust will come to the surface. You won’t have to feel inadequate ever again when you’re with me.”
She laughs. “So, are you going to take that pill every day? Do you even know if there are any long-term side effects? I’m well aware, Elliot, the drug you’ve created hasn’t even been through human trials, that you and Nick are the only ones who have taken it. Do you think I want to see you get sick or hurt because of me? I already can’t live with myself.”
“There is another option,” I mention.
Charlotte squints as I slide my ass down in the chair to reach in my left pant pocket and sit up to pull out a 4-carat solitaire diamond engagement ring in platinum and place it on the table, right next to the Bang. “You could marry me and we could work on these feelings together over the long term.”
Charlotte’s eyes are welling up. “I’m sure that will make my mother very happy.”
“Charlotte, I only want to make you happy.”
She gulps and bats her eyes. “Do you now?” she asks with a low gruff voice. She looks cocky. Confident.
I laugh. “Why are you trying to talk like me?”
“I’m trying to sound smart. I want to make the right choice here. Do I sound smart? As smart as you?”
I look at the ring and the Bang on the table and sigh. “Charlotte, when it comes to you, I’m a dumb fool. Will you just stop teasing me and pick me or put me out of my misery?”
“Yes,” she says confidently and I’m glad to see her old self returning, but it’s me who is unsure of himself.
“Yes, what? Which is going to be?”
“For an extremely bright man, you certainly don’t know how to ask the right questions.”
My cheeks warm as I lean forward to pick up the ring with one hand. I put my other hand out and signal with my fingers for Charlotte to give me her hand, which she does.
“Will you marry me?” I ask and slip the ring onto her finger. I’m not waiting for an answer. She’s already said yes and I’m not giving her any other opportunities to answer except the one time.
“Hmm,” she sighs.
“What’s the matter?"
“Elliot, you mentioned earlier that if you were going to ask me to marry you, you would’ve added a little something extra than just hand me a box.”
“Well yeah, sweetheart!” I exclaim and scoot my chair back to stand up. I check for my Jag keys in my suit pocket and walk around the table. Bending down, I give Charlotte a kiss thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I let my tongue dance around with hers as I slyly reach for the pillbox on the table and pop the top.
Charlotte gasps as I quickly lean my head back ready to drop the pill under my tongue.
“Elliot! You don’t need that,” she cries, gripping my arm. “You should already know that I... I...”
“Love me?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” she pants.
“For just one night, Charlotte, I don’t want to chase you. I don’t want to be teased. I want to be sure this engagement really means something to you, that it’s something you’re truly celebrating inside, that you’re really into me and trust me to make you happy, to take care of you.”
Charlotte lowers my hand and peeks into the pillbox at the little white pill. “You can be sure, Elliot,” she affirms, “and to show you how much I love you, I’m going to let you take this, this one time, so you know just how much I trust that big sexy brain filled with shameful, dirty thoughts you’re hiding behind those geeky glasses of yours.”
I watch Charlotte reach with her thumb and her forefinger to pick up the pill. She opens my mouth with a finger of her other hand then slips the pill under my tongue and kisses me.
Charlotte’s back arches and I see her knees spread open in her seat. Her mouth gets hot and her chest is heaving. She’s steaming up my glasses!
I glide my fingers up Charlotte’s inner thigh towards her center where she stops my hand and resists. It worries me, but I’m relieved to hear her speak of more feelings she’s been hiding.
“Take me home, Elliot Crowe. I’ve always wanted to go over to your place to play. Let’s celebrate this night with a Bang, shall we?”
End of Book 1 unless...
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ABOUT DANI
DaniStowe.com
I trapped a sexy beast who answers to the call of “husband.” I have mini-monsters who possess me with joy. I own furry critters that are running me into the grave and my house into ruin. And I have a freaky fetish for writing about fantastical creatures (human and otherwise) who are unduly obsessed with fornication.
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The Fourth Knight
*Preview*
by DANI STOWE
Chapter 1
Rue
He’s watching me.
I drop my gaze. I do not want to draw suspicion.
Trailing my fingers along a heavy wooden table, I envy the spread of plump juicy fruit, charred chickens, and dribbling greasy pork ribs, but cringe at the boar’s head—dead on a stick. The swine’s tongue hangs thick and dry between its tusks. I notice a small pitcher filled with red wine nearby. I’d like to sip on it or, better yet, toss it right in the face of His Majesty and the man standing next to him, the man making me feel uneasy.
I lift my chin as the other ladies do, although I’d like nothing better than to stuff some of what’s on this banquet table between my bosoms and legs to carry it out. This is enough food to feed an entire village. Sadly, it will be wasted and left to rot like our kingdom’s people.
My gaze wanders up again.
Damn! The tall, masked man in black standing next to His Royal Highness refuses to deflect his eyes from me. I look down at my golden dress, which matches my golden blond hair, and my bosoms are heaving out of my chest. I wish Adelard had stolen something a little less revealing.
Slipping between chatty women who have caught the attention of drunken men in fine clothing, the sour smell of aged sweat stings my nostrils. I pinch my nose together at the stinky nobles while chuckling at their conversations.
They are all in a game and behaving like animals. The women bat their eyes and play coy, while the men purse fishy lips hoping to catch more than kiss. I wish they’d just come outright and say what they’re really after—a chase that ends with a doe bucking somewhere in a dark corner of the castle or outside up against a tree.
My blue eyes twitch as the man in black sways noticeably from the corner of my eye. I can’t help but turn my head to him completely. He’s broader in the shoulders than I’d originally noticed. His stance is straight and he holds his head high. He’s overtly confident, even cocky he seems. I believe he’s more than just another one of King Richard’s soldiers. He could be a knight, though he’s not dressed like one. Being in such close proximity to the king, it’s possible he could be something much more.
I wish I could see his face. The thin ribbons wrapped and tied around our heads cut only to show our eyes hardly convey a mask. We all wear masks, except the king, being it’s his party.
I study His Majesty’s surroundings. Soldiers, armed with swords, stand by though I believe it will be easy to get past them simply because I’m a woman. The king will likely expedite my proximity to him when the time is near. The bastard has already allowed at least a dozen women to fall into his lap, including girls that have been forced to take a seat on his knee for entertainment.
But the tall man with short, cropped black hair adjacent to the king worries me. He does not cease to watch me. I suspect he is becoming suspicious, but worse, I suspect he might be my tracker.
I’ve never beheld the man, my tracker, a supposed hunter and, rumored to be, master swordsman. His recent appointment to hunt me, the outlaw, and kill me has been decreed; though he is lucky we have not crossed paths—yet.
Villagers say my tracker is growing increasingly frustrated—threatening to take hostages and throw them into the dungeon where they will be tortured to gain information about my band of skilled bandits. The coarse, trimmed beard bristling along the man in black’s lower jaw certainly fits the description of the man charged to reel me in. If he should find me, I’m sure he would love to gut me—run me through.
I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing aloud.
I’m told if I should ever encounter the man tasked to track me, that I should run. They say he is a knight who wears no armor. His confidence in his skills with a sword proves he doesn’t need the iron shielding. From this distance, I can see a shred of muscle that reaches from behind his ear down his neck and to the front of his collarbone. I do not doubt, it is the result of wielding a heavy sword.
I clamp down harder on my own mouth to keep ridiculous laughter from escaping. Unfortunately, I’m not a runner. I’m a fighter and no sword can match my bow.
I look to the man’s hip. There dangles a hefty blade of unusual making. The hilt appears to be red, as if the jewels embedded within have been stained with blood. I contemplate how many wives the man in black has left widowed with a slash of that sword.
He will not make a widow out of me, I chuckle to myself. Luckily, I have enough foresight and skill to kill him first, and I’m not married because I don’t have to be!
I look about the room to ensure I have an escape—I spy several. The front door where all the king’s guests have entered is well guarded and another door stands behind the king, although I don’t know where it ends. My final destination may be a window. If need be, I will pull at the banners hanging from each side, toss them over the ledge, and climb down to my good friend, Adelard, waiting with our horse. From there, we will ride back to the safety of the forest.
My eyes gloss over the king again, bringing the man in black to take notice. I gulp. He is quite a specimen. He behaves more like a guardian of sorts. If I should be struck down once I kill the king, at least I will die happily knowing I got the best of both men—one murdered for revenge and the other bested with embarrassment.
Oh no! The man in black bends to his side. He’s whispering in the king’s ear while he continues to keep his eye on me. He points his finger behind his back straight in my direction. Dear Lord, I hope I have not intrigued him.
My stomach churns. I might miss my chance to follow through on this deathly plot. Perhaps I should make my advance now?
Damn it! I knew it! The man in black comes my way.
As he approaches with long, bold strides, I feel for my dagger tucked into the long sleeve of my dress at the wrist. I look past the man coming towards me to the king and my heart sinks. If I cannot assassinate the king, I will at least execute this man. Tracker or not, he is someone of value to the king and once he’s dead, he’ll be of no further threat to the other outlaws.
“Excuse me, my lady,” he says with a smile. He bows and I curtsy as Adelard taught me to. “Forgive me, but I do not seem to know you.”
I feel for the bottom edge of my knife as I examine him from head to toe. He’s much taller than me, but the perfect height to stab! With a simple flick of my right wrist and a hard jab, the handle of my dagger will slip into my palm, allotting me the opportunity to quickly pierce the flesh of his belly. By jerking the sharp tip upward at an angle after penetrating the cavity of his soft torso, my dagger will slice through his bowel and he’ll die a slow, painful death.
The curves of my mouth float upward with such thoughts, though I really wish he’d go away.
His lashes flutter at my smile. Damn! Do not give yourself away.
“Should you know me?” I ask, wickedly.
He huffs and the wrinkle at his brow furrows deeper. “How did you arrive here? You do not sound or look as if you belong amongst this crowd.”
My heart paces and I allow my middle fingertip to trace the handle of the dagger. “I am the cousin... of...” I fumble to speak, completely forgetting whom I’m supposed to be related to. I’m apparently to be an out-of-towner rumored to arrive for an arranged marriage. Adelard forced me to practice this part at least a hundred times because I’ve never been good matching titles and names.
“I am the cousin of... De-el-la... Claaaa—”
The man smiles excitedly. “Lady Claire!”
My knees weaken when he places his hand behind my head, pulling me to him, speaking softly through my hair and into my ear. “I did not think you would be arriving for another week,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling its way into my ear canal.
He’s so close. His body heat is radiating.
So much for the stab to the abdomen. If I have to kill him, I’ll stab him right in the back!
He moves my hair from my ear as he continues whispering. “The king promised me a suitable and fair maiden. Even with that ribbon concealing your eyes, you are lovelier than I anticipated.”
Suitable? Fair? Lovely? I’d like to cut his prick off and see how suitable he’d think I am then. I’m sure he would no longer be suitable to any woman thereafter.
“Would you like to take a stroll outside?” he asks with hope in his voice.
No, I don’t want to take a stroll outside! I’d like for you to piss off so I can kill the king!
I tilt my head sideways to look at him. His brows are raised—weak with anticipation, but the man most certainly looks mischievous and dangerous. Nevertheless, I do believe he thinks I am this woman he’s apparently been waiting for.
I gulp. “I am not—”
“Am I being too forward with my future wife?” he asks.
Future wife?
Fine bristles of his hair lining his chiseled face brush against my cheek as he brings his face directly in front of mine to gaze into my eyes. In my twenty years of life, I don’t think I’ve ever had my face this close to a man’s besides my father’s before he was murdered by the king’s knights years ago.
The man in black dips his chin a little. The pung
ent smell of fine, fruity wine on his breath is overbearing. He stares blankly at me with deep green eyes that sparkle behind the slits of the black ribbon-turned-mask tied around his head. I am infuriated with the fact his eyes are quite chivalrous.
“Tis okay to be nervous,” he says, gripping my elbow and nudging me to follow him.
I stand my ground, unmoved.
“Come, my lady,” he says. “I will not bite.”
I look around. Guests are staring and beginning to gossip. I was not supposed to bring any attention to myself, thus I take a step in his direction.
As I follow my potential tracker, I look back at the king sitting gleefully on his throne. He’s staring at us. Perhaps, if I endure a few moments with the man in black, he’ll introduce me to His Royal Highness, allotting me the chance to stab the king—dead. As dead as the swine I reluctantly leave behind.
I am led out to a balcony where several people are about. My “suitor” seems disappointed. He rubs my fingers wrapped around his elbow with his palm. “We should go somewhere a bit quieter. I would very much like for us to speak in private. Would you mind accompanying me to the garden?”
He’s raised his hand to present a cobbled path leading towards a landscape filled with botanical life and flower buds glowing under the full moonlight. The garden is pretty, trimmed, and tamed, unlike the forest. If I was not a wanted fugitive with a reward on my head, I might be inclined to think I’m fortunate to be led by such a handsome man with wealth and status to a romantic garden outside of a royal castle.
I nod and his face brightens. The man has a very wide smile that competes with the stark white roses in the background, dazzling like the stars above.