by Amy Sumida
Contents
Careless Wishes
More Books by Amy Sumida
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
A Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Grammar Giggles
About the Author
Pronunciation Guide
Careless Wishes
Amy Sumida
Copyright © 2020 Amy Sumida
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9798653001994
Legal Notice
This book is copyright protected. It is only for personal use. You cannot amend, distribute, sell, use, quote, or paraphrase any part of the content within this book without the consent of the author or copyright owner. Legal action will be pursued if this is breached.
More Books by Amy Sumida
The Godhunter Series (in order)
Godhunter
Of Gods and Wolves
Oathbreaker
Marked by Death
Green Tea and Black Death
A Taste for Blood
The Tainted Web
Series Split:
These books can be read together or separately
Harvest of the Gods & A Fey Harvest
Into the Void & Out of the Darkness
Perchance to Die
Tracing Thunder
Light as a Feather
Rain or Monkeyshine
Blood Bound
Eye of Re
My Soul to Take
As the Crow Flies
Cry Werewolf
Pride Before a Fall
Monsoons and Monsters
Blessed Death
In the Nyx of Time
Let Sleeping Demons Lie
The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf
Hear No Evil
Dark Star
Destiny Descending
The Black Lion
Beyond the Godhunter
A Darker Element
Out of the Blue
The Twilight Court Series
Fairy-Struck
Pixie-Led
Raven-Mocking
Here there be Dragons
Witchbane
Elf-Shot
Fairy Rings and Dragon Kings
Black-Market Magic
Etched in Stone
(Careless Wishes)
The Spellsinger Series
The Last Lullaby
A Symphony of Sirens
A Harmony of Hearts
Primeval Prelude
Ballad of Blood
A Deadly Duet
Macabre Melody
Aria of the Gods
Anthem of Ashes
A Chorus of Cats
Doppelganger Dirge
Out of Tune
The Spectra Series
Spectra
A Gray Area
A Compression of Colors
Blue Murder
Code Red
With Flying Colors
Green With Envy
Fairy Tales
Happily Harem After Vol 1
Including:
The Four Clever Brothers
Wild Wonderland
Beauty and the Beasts
Pan's Promise
The Little Glass Slipper
Happily Harem After Vol 2
Including:
Codename: Goldilocks
White as Snow
Twisted
Awakened Beauty
Erotica
An Unseelie Understanding
Historical Romance
Enchantress
Author's Note
I didn't intend to return to the Twilight Court. I had packed up all of my notes and character cards and bid a sad farewell to my fairy friends. Then I started to receive emails and messages online asking me to bring back the series. I insisted that the story was finished but you, my wonderful readers, refused to give up on Seren and her dangerous, gorgeous men. The more letters I received, the more the story started to revive inside my mind until I couldn't deny it any longer. So, here it is; the first book in the Twilight Court's revival. I wanted to thank all of you who inspired me to pick up the story again and also give you one quick note about where I've chosen to restart. I thought about taking it up right where I'd left off but nothing would come to me. The story that wanted to be told begins five years after the last book, with Seren settled into her new life as wife and mother. So, that is where I've begun.
Pronunciation Guide in the back of the book.
Chapter One
Five years later...
“Mo shíorghrá,” the Unseelie King's deep voice vibrated across my skin.
That voice has always had a powerful effect on me—a sensual and weakening effect. My body just sort of turns into a wobbling mass of mindless need. I moved toward my husband, sliding beneath the silk sheet, and eased a hand along his cheek, tracing that sharp bone as I drew him down for a kiss. His massive body shifted closer, hard with muscle and desire, and his claw-tipped hand crept over my hip. The talons tickled a little as they scraped my skin but then he caught my ass firmly in hand and pulled me forward to meet his rising shaft.
“Raza,” I whispered as my hand slid back into his hair; blending the crimson streaks into the black. “Hurry.”
Raza chuckled against my throat, then swiftly moved above me, pushing me back onto the mattress. “Anxious, are we?”
“You know why.”
Raza growled and caught my lips in another kiss as he settled himself against me. My hands coasted over his sin-black skin but when he slid that beautiful, red-tipped, shaft home, my grip tightened and clawed him closer. He went to the hilt with one thrust, rubbing his ridge right where I needed it. Only male Dragon-Djinn have that bone above their genitals—a protrusion with only one purpose: to please a woman. I cried out as it began to do its job.
“I love you, Seren,” Raza whispered in my ear as he started a steady rhythm.
“I love you too,” I panted. “Faster, baby.”
Raza growled again, low and bestial, then sped up the pace. His dragon wings
unfurled, appearing out of nowhere, and spread above him with a thunderous crack. They mesmerized me—the midnight membrane held by glossy black bones with a crimson sheen. I stared at the lethal claws at their tips as the wings moved in rhythm with Raza's thrusts—another source of leverage for him. My fingers dug into the muscles of Raza's back, then slid around the sensitive juncture where his wings attached, feeling the power in those muscles, before trailing down to his clenching ass. I grabbed him there and urged him on. Just a little more. I was so close. A little—
“Daddy,” a young, feminine voice called through our bedroom door—the very interruption I'd been dreading. “Mommy? Are you awake?”
I groaned as Raza went still above me.
“Just keep going, she'll go away,” I whispered. “I'm almost there.”
“Mo shíorghrá, I can't. You know I can't,” Raza whispered back. “I'm so sorry.”
“Come on! I need some sugar in my bowl,” I whined and lifted my hips.
But he was already losing his erection. Our daughter's voice had that effect on him—the opposite that his had on me. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it's a perfectly acceptable reaction... except when Mama wanted to get off.
“I can hear you!” Shahzadi, our five-year-old daughter stomped her feet furiously.
Shahzadi—like her mother—does not appreciate being ignored. And if you whisper about her, all hell breaks loose.
Speaking of Hell, you don't know true hell until you have children. Having four at once is a torture I wouldn't wish upon my most evil enemies. Exhaustion, frustration, and fear become facts of life. You will never lose sleep like you do after you become a parent nor will you know the heights of bafflement, horror, disgust, and hair-pulling fury that only a child can take you to. And then there's the terror; every awful incident that could befall your child fills your mind mere moments after you gaze upon their little face and those concerns never go away. You learn to live with the ball of anxiety that comes with unconditionally loving and being responsible for another human being. Well, another being. My children are only part human and, to tell the truth, I'm not completely sure about that. Their conception was manipulated by a goddess, and one of them, if not all, were genetically altered in the womb—during conception, to be specific. The demoness currently bashing on my bedroom door was the child who had definitely been altered. She's pure Dragon-Djinn—the hope of her race's survival—that much, Danu had assured us.
But back to Hell. All of those parental emotions are magnified when your young children live in different homes. Yes, of course, I love my children and I would demolish anyone who tried to hurt them—that's the problem. Half the time, I want to kiss them and squeeze them until they beg for me to stop, and the other half of the time I simply want to squeeze the life out of them. I now understand why some animals eat their young. The one outside my door was sounding particularly delicious this morning.
I have no idea how people raise children on their own. I have husbands and family and even nannies to help me and it's still difficult. How a human woman could raise a child without any assistance and hold down a job is beyond me. Every single mother—or father, let's not be sexist—deserves a medal of honor. And a fucking raise. And lots of therapy. It seems an impossible task to me, the stuff of fairy tales—and that's coming from a fairy princess. Or queen. I'm both now, actually, so whatever you want to go with is fine. Just don't call me Twilight Princess. I still haven't gotten over the sparkly thing.
As I mentioned, my children usually live in different homes and those homes are in separate Kingdoms—one of them is even in another realm. My kids live with their fathers, who have responsibilities that prevent us from living together. And yes, I said fathers, plural. I have multiple husbands—four to be exact—and that's not so shocking here in the Fairy Realm. King Raza of Unseelie, King Tiernan of Seelie, and Prince Killian of Twilight live in their respective kingdoms—that would be the three Kingdoms of Fairy—while King Daxon of the Fairy Undergrounds lives on Earth in the Human Realm. Except Killian had to take care of some Ambassador duties on Earth this week—he took over my job when we got married—and I didn't want to leave our daughter with her grandfather, King Keir of Twilight, as so often happens. Dad doesn't mind but still, I didn't want to take advantage of him. So, I'd brought Rowan with me to Unseelie for my week-long visit with Raza and Shahzadi.
Which meant that there were likely two little girls outside the bedroom door.
I whimpered, truly on the verge of tears, as Raza rolled away and started to cover his amazing body with... ugh... clothing. I hated that pair of pants he was pulling on—hated them with all of my being. Yes, they were a leather, buttery, Fey creation that clung nicely to his sublime ass, but they were also a barrier between my husband and me. Specifically, the parts of him I wanted to connect intimately with me. Therefore, the pants were now persona non grata—or pantsona non grata, as it were.
“We'll find some time to be alone,” Raza promised as he snagged my hand and kissed it. “I promise.” Then, to our daughter, he called out, “Be patient, Shahzy, I'm coming.”
“No, you're not,” I grumbled as I rolled grudgingly out of bed. “And neither am I. That's the problem.”
“Petulance does not become you, mo shíorghrá,” Raza chided but he did so with a grin. “You sound like Shahzadi.”
Then the bastard pulled on a tunic.
I made a face at him—also making his point for him—and looked away in disgust. My stare caught on the portrait over the fireplace. A portrait of Raza's parents had once hung there but he had it moved to our private family room, AKA the living room, and replaced it with one of him, Shahzadi, and me. It wasn't your typical painting of a royal family. Instead of me sitting on my throne while he stood beside me or something regal like that, Raza was seated on his golden, horn throne and I was on his lap, holding Shahzy.
Shahzadi was four in the painting; Raza wanted to wait until her face was a little more developed before he had the painting commissioned. A silver disc, representing the Unseelie moon, rose above Raza's head, cradled by the golden tips of the giant horns that formed the back of the throne, but his wings were also out and blocked most of it. Shahzy and I seemed to be embraced by both Raza's arms and his wings—their ends curled forward around us in a similar line as that of his biceps. My head was angled towards his, the side of my forehead leaning against his temple, and Shahzy was smiling with her whole face—one hand on my forearm and one on her father's. I loved that painting, especially in times like this, when I needed a reminder of how precious my daughter is to me.
“I don't know how you just turn off the lust like that,” I huffed as I pulled on my underwear, then a dress. I yanked my hair out of the bodice and batted aside the strip of ombré purple that fell forward to taunt me. “My whole body is aching. Maybe if I just squeeze my legs together. Damn it, I need a shower. And a shower head with a massager attachment.”
“I believe it's a Dragon-Djinn trait,” Raza offered, gallantly ignoring my references to masturbation. “You can't protect your young if you're busy trying to make more.”
“Humph.” I pushed past him and yanked open the door, prepared to give our daughter a lecture about not disturbing her parents before they opened their bedroom door in the morning.
Two redheaded girls and a massive dog were revealed. The shaggy, silky, gray dog was actually a Puka—a type of fairy canine who could shift into the form of a horse—and she had been touched by the Goddess Danu, giving her an even greater intelligence than most Pukas have. Her name is Catriona, Cat for short, and I consider her to be one of my best friends despite the fact that she doesn't converse with words. I take her with me wherever I go in Fairy and she had become a second mother to my babies. She watched over them as if they were her own pups.
As for the girls, one of them had skin of the deepest black, like polished onyx, and hair the color of freshly spilled blood. Her hair hung in long, loose waves around her—most of t
hose waves tangled by sleep. The other girl had a perfect, peaches and cream, Irish complexion and hair of a more human, auburn shade, braided back neatly from her face—her freshly washed face (I could tell because the hair at her temples was damp). Both of the girls had green eyes as well but the ebony-skinned child had eyes in an emerald shade with the golden spikes of a star laid across their irises while the other girl's eyes were the pale color of Spring leaves and had the slit pupils of a snake.
The girls are twins—quadruplets actually—but beyond being redheads with green eyes, they couldn't be less alike. Shahzadi—the little Dragon-Djinn door-basher with the onyx skin—is headstrong, brave to the point of being stupid, and runs her mouth off like her mama. Rowan, however, is shy, patient, and sweet, with the kindness of a saint. I have no idea where she came from—probably another gift from Danu to make up for the “gift” of her sister—but one look at Rowan's serene face was enough to banish my irritation with Shahzy. A fact that Shahzadi had counted on; she was holding Rowan's hand in a manner that I could only classify as smug. Or daring.
“Shahzy, you know you're supposed to ask Nanny to take you downstairs for breakfast if Mommy and Daddy are still asleep,” I decided to lecture her anyway. I couldn't let that little hellion get away with using her sister as a shield for her bad behavior. “No flying today.”
“What?!” Shahzadi screeched and let go of Rowan's hand so she could release her little, leathery wings—mini versions of her father's. They whooshed open furiously, sending Cat scurrying back. “Daddy!”
“Put your wings away, Shahzy. You nearly slapped Cat with them.” I twirled a finger and gave her wings a push of Air magic to make my point. Then I picked up Rowan and kissed her soft cheek while her sister threw her first tantrum of the day. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
