Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  “To Brooklyn. I found a place that would buy my hair,” she sobbed. “I sold it to come home.”

  He drew back, reaching for her cheeks, his fingertips touching the feathered layers of her cropped cut and his eyes glistening with tears. “You’re so beautiful, Bella. So beautiful.”

  “I look different,” she said, feeling a moment of insecurity.

  “You look like my Bella,” he said, brushing her lips with his.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “I remembered you wanted to come home. I knew you were from Ticino…”

  She nodded, smiling at him through her tears.

  “…but I didn’t know where. I left New York on Monday night for Lugano. I tried to think about where you’d be, where you’d go. I knew you didn’t have money, so I checked at small hotels, but then it occurred to me that you might stay at an osteria for a little while to save money. You weren’t in Lugano, so I tried the one in Locarno on Thursday. No again, but they were kind enough to call here, to ask if there was a Bella Capelli checked in.” A tear slipped from his eye. “And you were here.”

  She reached up and swiped the tear away, cupping his cheek. His face was haggard and drawn, as sad and tired as hers. “You found me.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

  “I need to know,” she said. “Are you marrying her? Princess Elena?”

  He shook his head. “No, Bella.”

  “You broke it off?” He didn’t answer her right away and her heart lurched. “But your families. Your parents. The princess. Dio, Nico! Your two countries! I can’t be the reason that—”

  “Bella! Bella,” he said, stopping her words with a sweet kiss, then resting his forehead against hers. “Let me tell you what happened. It’s…well, it was sort of perfect. La risposta ad una preghiera.” The answer to a prayer.

  “Tell me!” she insisted, her voice breathless with anticipation.

  “She met someone else in Africa.” He drew back and grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “A doctor. From Sweden.”

  Bella let go of the breath she was holding, giggling as her eyes filled with more tears. “A doctor? Are you serious?”

  “From Doctors Without Borders.” He nodded, his eyes tracing her face as though memorizing it, as though recording it so that he could keep its image safe forever. “Someone who shares the same passion she does.”

  “La risposta ad una preghiera. Yes.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m so glad you didn’t hurt her.”

  His eyes narrowed and he murmured, “But I would have.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I would have hurt her, walked away from her, run away from her…if that’s what it would have taken to get to you. I’d already decided on that roof that I couldn’t live without you…that my title, my family, Elena—all of it was expendable. All that mattered was you.” He rested his forehead on hers again. “You made me promise that I’d try to be happy. But Bella…I can’t be happy without you. I wouldn’t have proposed. I couldn’t have possibly married her when I am totally in love with you.”

  “Nico…,” she sobbed, her lips frantically searching for his and covering them with little kisses of pure happiness. “Ti amo per sempre.” I love you forever.

  “Ti amaró ancho per sempre, Bella.” I’ll also love you forever, Bella.

  He held her tightly for a long while, rubbing her back as the sun started to set behind Montebello Castle on the hill behind them. It was almost as though they had to absorb it, trust it, believe that they were together again…and this time, it was forever.

  When she leaned back to look at him, she couldn’t help sighing with happiness, the same way her mother used to. “Are you really here?”

  “I’m really here, cara Bella.”

  “And we don’t have to say good-bye?”

  “We have all the time in the world.” She threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her tightly. He whispered in her ear, “But we do have one little problem.”

  “What?”

  “Any chance you’d take me on as a roommate?” he asked. “I have nowhere to stay in Bellinzona and I’d really like to stay with Bella.”

  She chuckled softly. “I have a twin bed if you don’t mind sharing.”

  “I definitely don’t mind sharing,” he said with a wolfish grin. “It’ll remind me of our blanket on the roof.”

  “I loved that blanket on the roof,” she said wistfully.

  “Me too,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Though it does seem like a raw deal for you, cara Bella. You fell in love with a prince…but I’m afraid a prince without a fortune isn’t worth very much.”

  “To whom? To me, Nico De’Medici, you’re everything. Everything,” she said again, bathing in the love shining from his eyes and knowing the same was brightening hers. “Not to mention, you fell in love with a girl who had long, beautiful hair. Sure you still want me now?”

  “Now and forever. I’m positive, Bella Capelli,” he said softly, threading his fingers through the short jet-black strands as he drew her face to his to kiss her. “I didn’t fall in love with your hair, cara mia. I fell in love with your heart.”

  ~The End~

  About Katy Regnery

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katy Regnery started her writing career by enrolling in a short story class in January 2012. One year later, she signed her first contract, and Katy’s first novel was published in September 2013.

  Thirty books later, Katy claims authorship of the multititled New York Times and USA Today bestselling Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the six-book, bestselling ~a modern fairytale~ series; and several other stand-alone novels and novellas.

  Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015 and won the 2015 Kindle Book Award for romance. Katy’s boxed set, The English Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, hit the USA Today bestseller list in 2015, and her Christmas story, Marrying Mr. English, appeared on the list a week later. In May 2016, Katy’s Blueberry Lane collection, The Winslow Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, became a New York Times e-book bestseller.

  Katy lives in the relative wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut, where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, two dogs, and one Blue Tonkinese kitten create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.

  2018 Projects:

  Fragments of Ash, The Modern Fairytale Collection (Cinderella)

  Swan Song, The Modern Fairytale Collection (The Ugly Duckling)

  Connect with Katy

  Katy LOVES connecting with her readers and answers every e-mail, message, tweet, and post personally! Connect with Katy and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://www.katyregnery.com

  Consumed by Addison Cain

  Chapter One

  Tracing dry lips with the tip of her tongue, Morgaine stared at the ceiling beams above her cot and fought to force breath into her lungs. It had happened again, the nightmare that signaled something terrible was coming—the dream that brought excruciating pain.

  Every muscle protested movement when, groaning, she threw her legs from the side of the bed and tried to sit up. The seizing of her limbs, how hard she had to will her body to move, to stand up, could not be mistaken.

  It always began with a tightening along her spine, the invisible weight of heavy stones radiating down arms and legs. Toes and fingers grew so heavy she could hardly lift them, hardly breathe. Her body never lied, even in its betrayal. Every year the pain grew worse, grating raw nerves in warning that she must flee immediately, while simultaneously making movement nearly impossible.

  Alphas were coming... close enough now that she would have to push past the pain if she was to escape their notice.

  Season after season they infected her settlement, t
o look over their chattel, to mediate disputes, to drag away friends and loved ones. All colonists understood survival required a show of respect to the ruling invaders, to never look them in the eye. Should a foreign soldier approach, settlers were expected to go to their knees and prostrate themselves for inspection.

  Never speak unless spoken to.

  Those who argued, who fought... they were made examples of.

  Morgaine had seen terrible things: whippings, brandings, executions.

  One of her earliest memories, the nightmare that still woke her in the night, was the screams of her cousin when he had been taken... the endless months where her aunt wept for her stolen son. No amount of reimbursement had eased the woman’s despair. What was money when one’s only child was gone? When she knew she would never see him again?

  If the Alphas marked you, there was no return. Ever.

  Morgaine had not let the beasts set eyes upon her since. Not when a twisting in her gut warned that she was next. No matter what it took, she would never leave her mother desolate and alone.

  Still asleep in the cot nearby, her mother’s steady breaths softened their simple dwelling’s darkness. Morgaine refused to wake her. Silent, she pulled clothing over shaking shoulders, biting her tongue when fire scorched each nerve. That way the woman would not have to lie if questioned. That way the responsibility would be squarely on Morgaine’s shoulders if her noncompliance was ever uncovered.

  Fingers fumbling the laces of the first garment she could reach, she stumbled to the door. The latch was maneuvered, her retreat unnoticed in the gloomy morning hours.

  Legs like stone, one hand braced against the nearest dwelling to steady a body that refused to be moved, it took over an hour to stagger the short distance to the settlement’s boundary. Another hour to inch through the grass to the nearest tree line.

  Cold sweat did nothing to cool the fire crackling in her bones. How many more seasons could she crawl without screaming? When would a neighbor find her sobbing in a ditch?

  Already she’d chewed her tongue bloody, dug her fingernails into her palms until they bled. Anything it took to stay quiet.

  She was so close.

  The forests around her settlement were safe enough if one knew where to tread—safer by far than the massive warriors, with their black armor and their weapons. While the Alphas went shelter to shelter taking what they desired, Morgaine would collapse beyond their notice, suffer alone until the hated ones left.

  The morning damp weighed her skirts, caught on her ankles, and left her sprawled against a tree. There she lay, unable to move. Curled upon herself, hand to her aching belly, she could no longer choke back such pain. Sobbing against the grass, time lost all meaning—an eternity of fire in the center of the ugliest hell.

  For hours she lay, fevered and ill, gnarled roots digging into her spine. Hours lost in pain.

  Under her body the ground was mud, soggy with fresh water from the stream just out of reach. One sip, a mouthful of sweetness, she craved it more than life. But Morgaine could not move.

  And then the Alpha ships began to rise into the setting sun—one by one, dozens of vessels filling the sky, disappearing into the atmosphere. With them went the source of her torment.

  Expanding her ribs in her first full breath since sunrise, Morgaine twitched her fingers, then her toes—arms, legs, all movement slowly began to return. Damp with sour sweat, caked in drying mud, she sprawled wild, unkempt, and exhausted.

  Nearby trickling water was gulped by the mouthful. Hands and face rinsed clean of muck and crusted tears. There was nothing that could be done for her dress. Grass has stained it, dirt smearing her mother’s fine embroidery.

  Throat still burning as if grated raw by sand, she told herself to get up.

  Stomach sloshing, nauseous, she found her feet and let the tree at her back bear her weight until she might find the strength to walk home.

  ***

  “Where have you been, Morgaine?” Eyeing her red-rimmed eyes, her muddy dress, Morgaine’s fat neighbor clucked, “Your mother dared lie to them when you could not be found.”

  The settlement was still in a state of uproar, but it was nothing to the sour fear Morgaine felt bubble in the back of her throat at such words. “What did they do to her?”

  “You should have accepted my boy when he offered for you! You brought their anger on yourself with your trickery and sluttish ways.”

  Clawing the woman’s clean sleeves with dirty fingers, Morgaine hissed, “What has happened to my mother?”

  It was easy for her neighbor to brush off the weakened girl’s grip. Easier still for the old dame to taunt, “The rules apply to you as they apply to us all, you horrid girl. Go see for yourself what has been done. My Cletus was lucky to be free of you.”

  Feet unsteady, Morgaine shoved her persecutor aside and broke into a graceless run.

  Always the Alphas brought with them misfortune. They took crops, they took furnishings and handmade cloth... they took people. Who cared if they showered those they stole from with coin?

  Alphas, all of them, were thieves. Butchers.

  If they dared touch her mother...

  There was little time to sort out who was weeping for their loved ones, what had been taken, for even from a distance, Morgaine saw a crowd had formed outside her small home. Neighbors stood in the dusty road, some trampling the garden beds, ruining heads of lettuce almost ready for consumption.

  Something was very wrong.

  Fist pressed to the stitch in her side, she shuffled as fast as she could, pushing through the throng. Over and over she heard those who recognized her muttering her name with repugnance... as if she’d committed a great crime.

  At the forefront of the crowd, she found... nothing.

  Her cottage stood as it always did, the wooden door shut.

  But there was a terrifying voice beyond it. “Her scent is thick in here, old woman. I have run out of patience with your lies. Tell me where she is or you will be strung up in the center of town and burned to death for the trouble you’ve caused.”

  Ear to the door, refusing to breathe, Morgaine heard the dulcet voice of her mother’s steady, submissive reply. “I assure you, none reside here but I, sir. I am a tailor and live a modest life. Would you like to see my wares?”

  A dangerous growl preceded, “Your neighbors tell a different tale. You have a daughter. Her name is Morgaine... and you have allowed her to age out of our sight to the point that she is now full grown. The child is not your property. She belongs to the Alphas, and you shall give her up.”

  “My only child died years ago. Whoever told you differently is mistaken. Take any of my goods you desire. I have nothing else to offer you, great Alpha.”

  The hairs on the back of Morgaine’s neck stood at attention, her heart in her throat upon hearing the Alpha cruelly bark, “Have her bound in the square. If she will not answer with honesty, she will be made an example of and left there to rot.”

  “No...” Hand to the latch, Morgaine pushed the door forward, desperate for her mother. “Don’t hurt her! I am here.”

  In the room’s dim light two huge, unwanted males dominated the small space. One breath of them and Morgaine froze.

  She could not move, only twitch and wheeze, blinking madly. Both soldiers’ attention had zeroed in on her, but Morgaine had eyes only for her mother. The woman had been shoved back against the wall, an Alpha’s hand wrapped around her throat, and she was reaching for her child.

  Legs stone, Morgaine fell—not in supplication, though her knees had struck the ground and her spine was bent.

  Amusement colored the gibe. “Your nonexistent daughter has returned.”

  Fingers splayed, Morgaine stared at the rushes under her palms, babbling out anything she thought might appease the soldiers. “I was in the woods... gathering berries.”

  An unwelcome finger hooked her chin, forcing her to raise her face for inspection. The man touching her, the intruder, was larger than
any male in her village, his face weather beaten and unfriendly. “And where are these berries?”

  “I couldn’t...” she could not have gathered berries earlier, just as in that moment she could not breathe.

  Silent tears dripped down dirty cheeks. “I love my mother.”

  “Hush, girl.” The stranger held her eyes, held her face in his rough palm, and began to produce the most beautiful sounds.

  Never had air rumbled with such perfect force. From under the armor on his chest, vibrations projected the power to loosen her locked muscles, making it possible for Morgaine to draw breath. The Alpha purred in the way courting men in the settlement purred, the way her fat neighbor’s son, Cletus, had purred when he’d left flowers at her door... but deeper... so deep her body felt as if it were weightless in a vast ocean.

  “Keep your eyes open, renegade.” Surrounded by such noise, a voice rough around the edges grew remarkably smooth, as did his touch when he wiped her cheeks clean. “I wish to hear your name from your own lips.”

  Anything, she would do anything to see her mother set free. “Morgaine.”

  The Alpha’s attention was centered on her, turning her chin left to right, but his words were for her mother. “You are very lucky, old woman, that this one is exceptionally beautiful.”

  Desperate to reach her child, her mother fought the one who held her with little effort. “Leave her be! You can’t have her!”

  Unmoving, the distant soldier with his grip about her mother’s neck grumbled, “The girl is many years past the age she should have been collected. The Omega might be damaged.”

  “No.” The back of the purring Alpha’s fingers tripped down Morgaine’s neck, tracing the line of flesh exposed above the bodice of her filthy dress. “This one is perfect.”