The Dark Kingdom Anthology

by Krissy V

  “So god damn tight,” he grunts, his voice both gravelly and smooth at once—honey poured over grit. That voice has the power to send my insides tumbling. “I’m going to pump this sweet little cunt full of my cum.”

  Such vile dirty words, but coming from those lips…

  God.

  My skin grows feverish and I shudder, unable to suppress the sounds fighting to break free. A moan rings out, loud and clear. I barely register the satisfied glint to his ocean eyes, a true sign of the control he’s feeling over the fact I’m about to…

  “Oh my God,” I scream, my orgasm crashing over me all at once.

  His thrusts pick up speed, his precision becoming more careless and frenzied. Seconds later he’s right there with me.

  Chapter Four

  Yasmine

  I lay here beneath him, gasping for breath and fighting a smile—the first one since I’ve been taken.

  He seems to be doing the same—gasping for breath that is. I don’t think he’s capable of smiling. That half-assed smirk is probably as close to doing the deed as he gets.

  After a few moments, he pushes his weight off of me, sliding his cock from me. It immediately feels foreign. I can only describe it as an empty sensation—a loss—now that I’ve been stretched to fit only him. No other man has been there. He’s left his mark on me.

  I start to reach for him.

  Why do I start to reach for him?

  This isn’t a romance. This is just sex. A purging of demons if we’re getting technical.

  My eyes drag down his muscular body—still smeared with my blood—just as he backs away to the edge of the bed. My sights hone in on his dick—which is also smeared with my essence, although this blood tells a different story entirely. It tells the story of lost innocence and purity.

  What a joke. Virgin or not, I don’t think I was ever entirely innocent in any of this.

  His eyes narrow on me as he catches me staring.

  I motion to the object of my surveying so that it’s not any more awkward, also holding up my wounded hand.

  “Well, you brought me pain. You made me bleed.” I wave the hand in the air. “Both without my permission,” –I motion down my body, pointing attention to the apex of my thighs, which also has the slightest tinge of blood— “and blood I gave willingly.”

  His eyes follow my hand, squinting when they settle on the evidence of my loss of innocence. He doesn’t, however, say a word.

  “So…” I trail off, attempting to draw conversation from him, “what’s next on the list?”

  And things just went from pretty freaking awkward to stifling in two seconds flat.

  He could at least speak to me after screwing my brains out...Dick.

  At least he made good on his promise, a snarky voice in my head pipes up. That he did; as I lie here, suddenly holding my breath due to the anxiety sweltering around me, his hot cum leaks out of me and drips down the crack of my ass.

  I allowed him to use me. I felt empowered by that decision, but now I’ve never felt more used in my life.

  He spins around and sits perched at the edge of the bed casually, elbows at his knees, head hanging low between his shoulders. While it might be an attempt to appear casual, another display of the tough man—the monster with the usual devil-may-care attitude—I still see through the façade.

  It’s an inner struggle from a boy.

  I can’t care for him. He’s vile. Evil. Couldn’t even be considered human.

  But that’s only one half of him—albeit the bad half is quite a bit larger than the sliver of a good half.

  My mind flashes back to the day I was taken, when I awoke inside the chopper. Even on that day, the day he hated me most, there were tiny fragments of kindness that broke free from the ugly.

  I slide to the edge of the bed with him, settling in right next to him.

  “So, tell me about them,” I prompt.

  He cuts his eyes to the side suspiciously.

  “Who?” The question is slow and drawn out, apprehension apparent in his tone.

  I elbow him playfully. “Your family, obviously.”

  His lips flatten together, his jaw hardening. “Dead,” he finally says.

  I arch a brow. Seriously?

  “Yeah. You said.”

  “And there’s not much more to say.” He exhales in a rush all at once, his nostrils flaring at the shallow breaths that follow.

  “There’s plenty more to say. Talking about your loved ones is a way of keeping them alive after they’re gone.”

  He turns toward me angrily. “And what do you care?”

  There’s that question again. He’s talking about my kingdom’s citizens, and he has the nerve to wonder why I care. I have to admit, it hurts.

  And I can’t even fault him for his reticence about what my motives could be. After all, this push and pull relationship between us is all a question of motives and moves.

  “I care for a lot of reasons. Like the fact you called Araigha home earlier.”

  He sobers immediately at the revelation.

  “Yeah, I caught that,” I continue. “So, your family are my subjects. They’re my people too. I’m not completely naïve. I know my father began to slack on his duties as our ruler after my mother passed away. He withdrew from traveling and going out in public because he was mourning her loss. He gave too much control to his vizier and trusted too much that his guards would know the difference from right and wrong. He’s basically allowing others to rule his kingdom.

  “The sad part is, I think he realizes it too. That’s why he’s been parading me around for months, trying to make the perfect match that will unite our kingdom with another strong one by marrying me off. He expects me to take over the duties of a wife and rule side by side with someone I don’t even know, merging two regions into one and melding two cultures together.”

  I shrug. “He makes it all sound so easy. So simple. But nothing is easy about being forced to assist in ruling someone else’s kingdom. One that you’re unfamiliar with all their customs. And don’t get me started about the fact that men tend to have more power in decision-making than women do…” I growl, shaking my head angrily. “I will not just stand back and have someone else come in and make the decisions for Araigha. You want to know how to make a marriage crumble immediately? Force me to be with someone I don’t respect, and then have them take control of the kingdom I’ve been promised since I was a little girl. Take away my opportunity to make my mother’s visions a reality. She was always the one counseling my father. Once she was assassinated, it was only a matter of time before he crumbled.”

  He turns with interest, probably catching on to the detail we’ve kept hidden from everyone else. I don’t know why I chose to share it with him, but I can’t bring myself to regret it.

  “She was assassinated? I thought she got sick…”

  I swallow, my eyes burning as I recall the memories of my mother’s demise.

  “She was sick,” I agree. “But it’s because someone poisoned her. At least that’s what we suspect. It’s what makes the most sense considering it struck so suddenly, taking her away in no time at all. No one could figure out how she was poisoned, or what poison was used, so an antidote wasn’t found.”

  “Wow.” He continues to study me thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. That kind of explains why your father saw fit to lock you away in your tower so to speak.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. So, tell me about your family,” I try again.

  He sighs unhappily, but I can already tell I’ve broken through a barrier.

  “My parents…I don’t remember much about them. Only the big things. They worked every day of their life, struggling to put food on the table for my sister and me. A lot of days they went without a bite to eat, but me and my sister always at least had something. Maybe not what we wanted, maybe not enough to fill us up, but we were never truly starving. I can barely remember my mother’s face now, and it’s only on some days. My father…well, I can’t rem
ember his face at all. He died a few years before our mom did.”

  I don’t say anything, don’t even nod because I’m afraid he’ll stop. I just wait, giving him the time he needs to be able to continue.

  “But my sister…” He releases a shaky breath. “I remember everything about her. She was beautiful, from the inside out. Special in more ways than one. I wanted to be bitter after our parents died, but every day I woke up mad at the world, and every day she brought the sunshine back in. Every day I woke up with purpose, striving to protect her—and not just physically, but the light in her. Now she’s gone, and I’ve traded that honorable purpose for one a thousand times worse.”

  His implications are clear to me. The new purpose is to cause pain to those involved in any way with his sister’s death and to seek retribution.

  “No. I don’t think so,” I disagree. “I don’t call it dishonorable for you to seek out the retribution she deserves, or to find some sliver of satisfaction for yourself while doing it. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I believe in punishing those who need to be punished. Which is exactly what I plan to do one day.”

  His brow pops at this news, so I continue.

  “I plan to find my mother’s killer and to punish them in all the ways they deserve…and then some. And I plan to ensure everyone receives just punishment once I rule our kingdom, no matter who they are, whether they be the palace guards, royal family members, or any of the citizens. Murder is murder. Rape is rape. It doesn’t matter who does it. And then, I plan to bring our citizen’s peace and purpose—farming and cultivating so that they have jobs, and the food goes back to the people so no one, especially children, has to go hungry again.”

  “Sounds like you have it all figured out.” For once, his tone is sincere.

  “I don’t,” I admit. “But I plan to figure it all out as I go, and I won’t accept what is as final.”

  He nods in understanding, standing from the bed and striding into his bathroom. The sound of the shower running follows him back out.

  “It also sounds like we might have more in common than I thought.”

  “And to think,” I laugh, “I don’t even know your name.”

  His lip twitches at the corners, but he presents his hand to me.

  My brow furrows. “What are you doing?”

  Amusement dances in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  I scoff, biting back a smile. “No. Not at all.”

  He stands there for a moment, then something crazy happens. The most beautiful grin breaks free as he says, “Dean.”

  Still offering his hand out to me, I grasp it, making note of how rough it is, not like someone who lives in a palace of his own, but the hand of someone who grew up in the streets, working every day to survive.

  He pulls me to my feet, leading me toward the bathroom.

  “Yasmine,” I reply, “but my friends call me Yazzy.”

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  Love on the Run

  Chapter One

  I wake up, my brain battering my skull with each beat of my heart. My eyelids are heavy, but after several attempts, I’m able to open them. Wherever I am, it’s not my hotel room. Calling it a room at all would be generous. It’s a cell. A cage.

  Afraid my captor might be watching, I stay as still as possible and try to get a look around without getting up.

  The cell is maybe six feet by eight feet. The mattress I’m on is twin sized and directly on concrete floor. The bars that cage me are gold, and spaced only inches apart, so there’s no way to squeeze through.

  I slowly angle my head up, getting a look at the space behind me. There’s no toilet or sink in here. The small mattress and threadbare, child size blanket is all I have.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  That voice. It’s familiar. I think it was the last thing I heard before I passed out. It’s just as spine-tingling as I remember, with an accent I’ve never heard before.

  “Who are you?”

  My body stiffens, and I slam my eyes closed and pretend I’m asleep, but my heart thunders so rapidly in my chest, I swear I can hear it bouncing off the walls.

  “No use closing your eyes now. I already saw that you were looking around. Now, who are you?”

  My eyes pop open again, scanning the dark room outside the bars of my cage. My eyes never land on anybody. If he didn’t sound so clear, I’d think he was speaking through an intercom.

  He must be one of the queen’s soldiers.

  I sit up ready to plead my case, hoping I can convince him that I just showed up here and don’t know what I did wrong. It wouldn’t be a complete lie, because I truly don’t remember the events that led me here.

  I sit up and the blanket falls into my lap, and I realize I’ve been stripped of my clothes.

  Snatching the small blanket and covering my exposed breasts, I peer into the dark and speak.

  “Sir, I’m sorry. I’m new. Just visiting actually. I don’t know what I did, but I can assure you I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Please let me go.”

  There’s no reply. My wide eyes bounce around the room, searching for movement. I strain to hear his steps or his breathing. It’s eerily silent, and suddenly I don’t want to be alone. I’d rather him be in here, regardless of who he is.

  I stand up and clutch the blanket to my body, covering as much as I can, and make my way to the bars.

  “Sir, please!” I beg. “Please let me go. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Without making a noise, the imposing figure emerges before me. With a gasp, I jump back, dropping the blanket briefly before bending down and snatching it up.

  His dark eyes stare deeply into mine. “Who are you?” he asks again, this time enunciating each word.

  “I-I’m Allison.”

  “You’re not from here,” he states simply.

  “No, and if you free me, I’ll go back home. Back where I belong. Please.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says, though he sounds anything but sympathetic.

  I step up to the bars and grip one in my fist. Tears well in my eyes and my voice shakes when I speak.

  “I’m begging you. Please don’t send me to the queen. Please let me go. I’ll do anything.”

  His nostrils flare and something ignites behind his eyes. My vision has adjusted to the darkness, and our close proximity allows me to see the sharp line of his jaw, the scruff that covers it, and the permanent scowl etched between his brows. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s far more frightening. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned the queen.

  “We’ll see how much you’re willing to do.”

  Those are his final words before he turns around and walks away. The sound of a door opening and clanging shut is the last thing I hear before I dissolve into a fit of tears on the concrete floor.

  Eventually, I pull myself up and find my way back to the small mattress. It’s there that I think about the night before and the events that brought me here. The only problem is, I don’t remember everything, and I’m afraid of the things that may have happened in that lost time.

  Chapter Two

  It all started with the letter. In a red envelope, it was left on my bed in the middle of my eighteenth birthday party.

  Adventure awaits only the bravest and most daring. If you truly want to experience life, do it now before anyone can talk you out of it. It will be worth your while, I can promise you that. Go and explore, dear Allison. Go and live. But do be careful, for amongst adventure is also danger, but isn’t that what makes life fun?

  Affectionately,

  I had no clue who this mysterious Mr. C was, but after eighteen years of dealing with my strict, stuck-up parents who wanted nothing but to force me into a marriage with a fellow politician's son, I was beyond ready for an escape. Even briefly.

  Along with the note was a first-class ticket to the Isle of Redquin, giving me a deadline of on
ly five hours.

  It took me all of fifteen minutes to make the decision to leave, and now I’m locked in a golden cage.

  When I come to again, there’s a soft glow coming from behind a curtain. I realize that not only am I in a cage, but there’s thick, red, velvety curtains hanging on each side about two feet away from the bars. Upon inspection, it appears they’re on a track and can be pulled to fully close me behind the material.

  My full bladder threatens to burst as I get up. I’m already humiliated enough by being held in a cage with nothing but a blanket to cover me, but I really don’t want to have to pee on the floor.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  I give it a minute before I try again, but louder this time. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

  Minutes go by as I pace the small cell with the blanket wrapped around me like a towel after a shower.

  The clanging of the door on the other side of the curtain grabs my attention, and I freeze in place, waiting to see the figure from last night, but he doesn’t come into view.

  “Um. I need to use a bathroom.” I pause. “Please.”

  I watch with bated breath as he steps around the curtain. His stride is unhurried and his gaze stays trained on me as he moves closer to the bars.

  Whatever I imagined a soldier looking like—gun strapped to his body somewhere, uniform—he doesn’t look like that. He’s wearing black slacks and a black button up that clings to the muscles in his arms and chest. His black shoes shine like those of someone who never walks anywhere where there’s filth. The planes of his face are hard, with a defined jawline and prominent cheekbones. And it looks like he’s never smiled in his life. While he appears to be older than me, I can’t spot any wrinkles anywhere.