1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

by Fiona Archer

  When I drop one hand to my thigh, Sophia reaches over and takes hold of it.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “You’re welcome.”

  When she tightens her grip, I match her pressure, then loosen my fingers. I expect her to let go, but she doesn’t. Instead, Sophia turns sideways in her seat and intertwines her fingers with mine. Her heated gaze burns a path over the side of my face until I give in to the need to look at her.

  Brazen desire flushes her cheeks. “I’m glad it’s going to be you, Zoran.”

  My reply drips with every ounce of need I’ve been supressing for too long. “You have no fucking idea what you’re in for, little girl.”

  Sophia kisses my cheek. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  * * * *

  The ceremony is simple. As we hold hands, the celebrant speeds through the vows. My sister, the leashed dog, and one of the mercenaries I hired last night act as witnesses. It’s gaudy and completely unworthy of the beauty staring back at me with faith in her eyes, but it’s legal.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  I look at Sophia for permission. She meets my inquiring gaze steadily, then nods. With my arm across her back, I dip her low and press my lips against hers. At first, our kiss is chaste. A meeting of our twin desires—one innocent, one impure—in both birth and life.

  Quickly, our connection turns hungry. Sophia parts her lips, then swipes her tongue over the seam of my mouth. I groan. She does it again. Allowing her the entry she seeks, I give her time to explore before I take control. She gasps when I devour her mouth. My hands roam her body, committing her curves to memory while I mark her neck and redden her lips with my mouth and teeth. Our tongues duel until she’s moaning. Her hands grip me tightly while I hold her close, and when her fingernails bite into my bunched shoulder muscles, I declare victory and stand her back on her feet.

  Sophia touches her swollen lips. “Wow.”

  While I appear calm on the surface, I’m just as affected beneath the blank expression I habitually wear. Sophia sets my body on fire—she also incinerates my soul every time she looks at me with trust in her eyes.

  “If I wasn’t already pregnant, I would be now,” Rosalie quips.

  I narrow my eyes at my sister, and she laughs. The mercenary coughs, and I know that it’s time to go. Leading the girls back to the idling SUV, I’m on alert. My focus remains as I follow my hired team back to our safe house.

  Once inside, I send one man to guard Sophia’s dog in the yard and one with the girls upstairs. The men disperse, but their leader remains. He leans against the door frame, appraising me in silence.

  “Everything’s in order?”

  “Yes,” he replies.

  “Good. Let me know when our guest arrives.”

  A wide smile curls his cruel lips. “What time can we expect Mr. Averell?”

  “He’ll be here by six.”

  The look we exchange is loaded. These men aren’t loyal to me, but I knew that last night. They’re a necessary evil because Aaron might believe that he’s the only one with a deal in place, but he isn’t.

  Ten minutes after I left my father’s office, I had Roman Averell on the phone.

  As the ambitious second-in-charge of the Coalition, he was a natural ally to cultivate. I wasn’t certain if he’d be willing to support me; however, he was ecstatic to thwart my father’s plans, readily agreeing to me taking Harrison’s place with Sophia.

  In just a few hours, I’ll discover what my new allegiance will cost.

  My legs are tired as I trudge up the stairs. Three doors greet me: one closed, two open. I look between the two open rooms and try to decide how far I’m going to take things.

  It’s clear Sophia’s inexperienced. And too young.

  “Thirty-one doesn’t go into eighteen,” I mutter.

  “Yeah, it does,” the object of my current dilemma interjects. “It equals one point seven two recurring.”

  Before I can respond, Sophia comes into view. She’s wearing nothing but a tiny pair of red panties and a matching bra. Holding out her hand, she offers me a coy smile that seems at odds with her innocence.

  Dragging in a ragged breath, I follow her into the bedroom.

  “I’m not afraid, Zoran,” Sophia stammers. She looks at the floor, at the wall, at anything but me. “I learned at an early age not to want anything because it would be used to control me by the Coalition. Everything in my life is for their benefit, except this… this marriage, this morning, the rest of our lives, is for me. It’s mine and yours. I want you to make me yours… properly.”

  Her stuttered explanation eviscerates my indecision. I know exactly what she needs tonight.

  Flipping the lock on the door, I tug her deeper into the room.

  “Lie down, wife,” I growl, tossing back the covers.

  Sophia climbs onto the bed with anxious expectation in her eyes. Covering her body with mine, I dip down and nip at her lips. She gasps. I allow myself to enjoy the feel of her underneath me for one heartbeat before I move off her. Standing, I keep my eyes locked on Sophia’s as I remove my own clothes until I’m clad only in my boxer briefs. Although I haven’t allowed myself to rake over her form with my eyes, my cock is straining against the black fabric. My wife’s eyes widen when she drops her gaze to sneak a look.

  “Eyes up here,” I command.

  She quickly lifts her gaze back to mine.

  “Your little speech was beautiful, but you miscalculated one thing.”

  “I did?”

  “You did.”

  I crawl onto the bed and pull her back tightly against my chest. Flicking the covers over our bodies, I hold her. Sophia shivers when I nuzzle my nose at the back of her ear.

  “If I touched you tonight, the Coalition would be in control.”

  I cup her satin-covered pussy, flexing my fingers against her clit until she’s bucking against my hand. “If I took you right now, the Coalition would win.”

  “Please,” she groans, when I move my hand away.

  “My whole life I’ve been the bastard son of Francis Greaves,” I explain in a raspy voice. Sophia’s obvious arousal is affecting me, but I’m determined to stay the course. “For once, I want to be the prince. I want to wait. I want to marry you for real without the threat of the Coalition, my father, or Harrison hanging over your head. When I make you mine in every sense of the word, mind, body, and soul, it will be with love in our hearts and trust in our minds. That’s how we take control away from the Coalition. That’s how we win.”

  A thoughtful silence dominates the bedroom, and I hold my breath.

  Sophia offers no argument. Instead, her breathing evens out and the rigidity that’s gripped her body since she attempted her best Femme Fatale impersonation dissipates. She relaxes against me, threading her fingers with mine, pulling my arms around her.

  “Wife,” I murmur in her ear.

  “Yes,” Sophia whispers.

  “Let me be your prince.”

  “Always.”

  Copyright 2020 Zoe Hill

  About Zoe Hill

  Thank you for reading The Forbidden Fiancée, a small taste of Zoe Hill’s Coalition Collection—a series of interconnected romantic suspense novels about a secretive organization of wealthy families intent on bringing about a new world order and the motorcycle club determined to stop them.

  Want to read more stories from this dark and sexy series? The first book, The Dangerous Son, is available on all retailers now: https://dymi.ink/wTheDanSon

  * * * *

  Zoe Hill is an Australian writer. Having found her niche spinning tales about love and villains, she loves nothing better than typing all the words and consuming exorbitant amounts of coffee and Skittles while her two teens are at school.

  A country girl at heart, she is a rabid reader, a metal head, and UFC fanatic. When not writing, Zoe can be found chatting about plot bunnies with her menagerie of animals and musing o
ut loud about how well she’s moonlighting as a competent wife and mother.

  She is active online and loves nothing better than chatting about books and memes. Feel free to friend her on Goodreads, check out her website www.zoehillwrites.com , or search Zoe Hill Writes to find her social media accounts.

  Join Zoe’s VIP reader list for exclusive excerpts, monthly giveaways, and advance notice of pre-orders, new releases, and sales >> https://dymi.ink/vip

  A Royal Harmony

  by

  Zoey Ellis

  Chapter One

  It was the magic blaring in her ears that prevented her from hearing footsteps as they approached.

  “Elyana!”

  Elyana’s head whipped up to see the shocked expressions of her mother and one of the royal court’s advisers staring down at her. She filtered out the raucous magic and opened her mouth, but the adviser spoke first.

  “The new king has called for all princesses to be presented in the great hall,” she said, her frown deepening as she peered at Elyana sprawled out on the rosebush patch.

  Elyana’s stomach dropped. “Is that… today?”

  The adviser’s mouth pursed. “You were informed three days ago to prepare for the event, princess.”

  An awkward silence stretched between the three women. Elyana exhaled slowly, pushing herself up to her knees and covertly rubbing her muddy hands on the back of her dress. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was a mess. Mud-clumped hair hung around her head, splashes of dirt itched her cheeks, and her crumpled gown held such a patchwork of stains it looked a different color than it had this morning.

  “You don’t have time to change,” the adviser said briskly. “You have to come with us now.”

  Elyana sucked in a breath and nodded.

  “She can’t!” Mother’s voice screeched across the garden, sending several starlings into a panicked flight. “Look at her. She can’t meet the new king like this!”

  The adviser raised a brow. “If she misses this event, she may not meet him at all.” She eyed Elyana. “Besides, he wants five wives. There’s a very small, albeit unlikely, chance he might pick one for amusement.”

  Elyana almost rolled her eyes but refrained—it would only annoy Mother. She stumbled up to her feet, brushing the folds of her skirt.

  “Stop making it worse,” her mother scolded, slapping her hands away from her dress. Muttering under her breath, she primped and fixed and fluffed Elyana to the best of her ability as the royal adviser led them out of the gardens. It wouldn’t do any good to Elyana’s overall appearance, but it would make Mother feel better, and Elyana had long ago learned that sometimes it was best to let her feel like she was making a difference.

  “It’s all right, Mother,” she said gently. “I’ll just hide at the back.”

  “You aren’t even supposed to be in the gardens in the first place,” her mother hissed. “Do you see any other princesses rolling around in mud or doing any of the strange things you do, Elly?” She shook her head. “I let you indulge in these strange pastimes of yours, and now it has backfired on me.”

  Elyana halted and took her mother’s hands in her own. “Mother, you have never called me insane or withheld me from the things I am drawn to. You know I love you for that.” She pressed her mother’s knuckles against her chest. “But you know I am too unusual… I cannot be the wife of a royal. I thought you accepted that?”

  Her mother’s face dropped, and she lowered her eyes. “I can hope, can’t I?” she whispered and squeezed Elyana’s hands back. “I can hope that my only daughter, the most beautiful woman I know, has the same chances as everyone else.” When her eyes rose to meet Elyana’s, they glistened with tears and hope. “He doesn’t want a queen, just wives.”

  Elyana pulled her into a tight hug, unsure what to say. Being a princess meant being held to specific standards, but Elyana had never been one who could abide them. Since the age of five, she’d never managed to absorb training like the other princesses. She’d always been found in situations unbefitting her status—like today. Mother scolded her after every instance, but Elyana never remembered the chiding.

  Eventually, she had realized she could hear the sound of magic—beautiful or grotesque it was a constant noise in her ears, and although she tried not to let it distract her, it had proved impossible many times. At age thirteen, when she came into her dynamic as an Omega, her mother gave up trying to control her, hoping her dynamic alone would be enough to secure an impressive husband. Omegas were only born to royalty and highly valued by as mates by Alphas in the royal assembly. Her mother’s reasoning was that regardless of Elyana’s strangeness, it was unlikely she wouldn’t find a mate.

  However, as she grew into a young woman, Elyana found no interest in meeting the men who requested her time. They were boring and stiff and had nothing to say that was more interesting than the magic that vied for her ears. Soon, she stopped meeting them all together, much to her mother’s chagrin. Finally, Mother seemed to accept that Elyana was simply not suited to life as a royal, and Elyana frequently reminded her that at twenty-five, she still had time to find a mate.

  Of course, the arrival of the new king had changed everything—even her mother’s expectations, it seemed.

  Elyana followed the royal adviser into the carriage waiting for them and held her mother’s hand until they arrived at the palace. The royal adviser led them straight to the throne hall, decorated to reflect the new king’s vast wealth.

  Elyana didn’t usually feel intimated or affected by the presence of others, even royal officials. She’d let go of any expectations that anyone would truly understand her, and it released her from fear of embarrassment and disappointment. Royalty and nobles knew well enough she wasn’t going to be anyone of significant importance to the kingdom, and as such, most didn’t bother with pleasantries. They were cordial to her but disinterested.

  However, as she stepped into the main hall, nerves bloomed in her stomach. So many people had gathered, and the other princesses had dressed extravagantly. They milled around the edges of the space with their courtiers, waiting for the event to start. The indistinct murmur that hummed around the hall when Elyana first entered died as shocked and disgusted eyes turned to her. Her step almost faltered, but her mother took her arm and led her to a space by the back wall. Elyana kept her head low as she took a deep breath. She was only going to be here for a few moments, then she never had to enter this hall again.

  An enormous throne sat at one end of the room on a high platform, and two guards stood in front. They wore strange tunics secured by thick leather straps, their bare limbs on display, but that was expected. The new king wasn’t from this land.

  An older man with a gray beard strode to the center of the hall. “This event will now begin. All hail King Allandis.”

  Nervous calls of “All hail the king” echoed from the crowd as female candidates smoothed their dresses and fixed their hair.

  Elyana simply stood and waited. She just wanted to return to her gardens before sundown—it was the first day of spring, and the magic of the gardens always created a stunning harmony at the change of a season.

  A huge figure stepped out onto the platform, and the entire hall hushed.

  It was well-known that the new king was an Alpha. Rumors of his conquests and physical prowess had energized the lands. Before he’d arrived, crime had been rife across the fifteen districts known as the sunken lands. Many sought security, safety, and stability, but the only way to do that was for the fifteen districts to unite. This Alpha, a prince from a foreign kingdom, offered the unity no one else could.

  He’d arrived with a flurry of carriages and carts and an army large enough to secure all fifteen districts in one fell swoop. The mood of the kingdom was hopeful, particularly for the royal family, who hoped for a chance to influence policy and procedure as part of the new king’s rule.

  But now was the first time they had seen him fully.

  Thickset was how Elyana woul
d describe him. Everything was thick from his neck down to his ankles. He wore the same kind of clothing as his guards, showing as much of his bulgy muscles as possible. Tight brown curls peeked out from underneath the helmet he wore. His square jaw made his face formidable, and his eyes smoldered as he looked over the room.

  Tense anticipation bled into the silence as the king stared at his new subjects. Elyana wondered if he was happy with what he saw. Why would a man want to take over a vast land rife with crime and turn it into a kingdom named after himself? She couldn’t think of anything worse. Either way, this man did not look like he had any doubts about his new position as king. In fact, he looked like a warrior. She wondered if he thought they were all a bunch of uncouth ingrates who needed a firm hand. Considering her current attire, it wasn’t as though she would be dispelling that assumption today. She snorted at her own thought, but the sound rang across the hall, breaking the intense silence that had built.

  The king’s eyes flicked to hers, and a hot fierceness pierced her entire body. Elyana’s breath quickened in shock, and a strange heat crept up the back of her arms, spreading to her shoulders and then up her neck. Suddenly his gaze was too much to bear. Lowering her head, she swallowed hard and cursed herself in her mind. The whole point of attending this stupid event was to be unnoticeable and get out of there quickly, not have the king furious with her within a few moments of entering. The heat on her neck began to blaze the longer the silence held because she knew he was still looking at her—she could feel it.

  It was the gray-bearded man who broke the tension. “Would all candidates step forward?”

  Elyana held back until some of the more confident women had taken their place before stepping forward. Annoyingly, they formed a line, as if they’d had some kind of training that she hadn’t… although it wouldn’t be unlikely.

  “First, presenting Princess Margot,” Grey Beard called.