Crown Jewels

by Katherine Kingston, Mlyn Hurn

  Marcus stopped just outside Syranna’s bedroom door, waiting for Uther to catch up with him so he could hear the rest of his monosyllabic tirade. But when he didn’t hear anything else, he continued into the room and quickly pulled his clothes on. He was sitting on the bed, pulling his boots on when the bedroom door opened. Looking up, he was surprised to see Syranna standing there.

  Syranna leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve this insanity?”

  “Is that rhetorical or do you want me to answer?” Marcus offered quietly.

  Opening her eyes slowly, she saw him sitting on the side of the bed. Despite a night filled with lovemaking, Lord Marcus looked as if he’d slept for twenty hours and was ready to take on the world. She knew if she looked in the mirror she would see the ravages of a sleepless night. Suddenly she felt the need to speak her mind.

  “You should be sitting on the throne of Vikalla, not in this decrepit old castle with an insane group of people.”

  Marcus laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that, darling. I’ve rather enjoyed my stay here. I still am set on you returning with me to Vikalla for our wedding, but I’m amenable to us splitting our time between here and the palace. I’d feel perfectly at ease leaving William in control while we returned here every now and then.”

  “What makes you so sure I’ll go back with you? I would think that if nothing else, you’ve learned that I won’t go anywhere I don’t want to.”

  Marcus laughed, throwing his head back as he did. Syranna let her eyes roam over the tanned skin of his neck, easily recalling how she had kissed him there while she rode his body during the night. Straddling his hips had proven to be quite an unexpected treat. She was tempted to go right over there, push him backward onto the bed and make love to him. The realization that she was falling in love with this man sent shivers through her body. Could she turn her back on the dreams she had been instilled with since she was eleven years old?

  Almost from the very first day, her grandfather had taught her about her natural inheritance. She had seen the disappointment in his eyes, even though he’d never spoken the words out loud. Lord Mathayrus had felt that Sylvia, her mother, had turned her back on her natural inheritance for love. Syranna soon realized that her grandfather’s hopes for the future had come to rest within her. She accepted it fully, or at least she had until she met this man who would be the king once his coronation took place. Suddenly she spoke her thoughts out loud.

  “Why have you delayed the coronation ceremonies? It’s been long enough since my father’s death.”

  Marcus sighed heavily. “That wasn’t the only reason, Syranna.”

  Syranna shook her head. “There should be no other reason for your delay. By all rights you deserve the title. You fought hard enough for it. Good Lord! You preserved three worlds and their peoples and cultures. That is a mighty feat and the ruler of those three worlds should be called ‘king’ by his subjects.”

  “Many people still feel it should be a ‘blood entitlement’ and not that I fought and worked for it. You are the rightful ruler, my sweet. You must be queen.”

  “And you should be king. Where does that get anyone?”

  “Nowhere.”

  Syranna wasn’t sure that she liked his answers. She’d expected him to say again that they should get married. What upset her more was that she’d wanted him to ask her again, or tell her, so she could bluster a bit before giving in. God! She was losing her sanity! Syranna prided herself on her straightforward and honest approach to life. What was happening to her?

  “Where are the troublemakers?”

  Syranna looked back at Marcus, realizing in surprise that he’d spoken to her. “Oh! I left Darmand at the table and I assumed Uther came up to change his clothes.”

  She eased away from the door and began walking past the bed. Marcus’ hand shot out and clasped around her wrist. He pulled her toward him until she stood between his parted thighs, her knees pressing against the mattress of her bed. His hands came to rest on her hips as he looked the slight distance up into her eyes.

  “I was talking about the dragons.”

  Syranna smiled back at him. “I know. They are in the pool. I let them have a little drink and then restored their harnesses. I wanted to change into something more appropriate for breakfast.”

  Marcus’ hands opened with his thumbs covering her stomach. She felt his hands wiggling and his thumbs pulling, and soon her robe was parting under his insistent fingers. Marcus’ eyes dropped down and Syranna felt a flush moving up her neck and across her cheeks. The robe had parted revealing her lower body, but it clung at her nipples because of the tie and only partially displayed her breasts.

  “Do you think anyone would notice if we skipped the morning meal?” Marcus asked her softly. He shifted his hands to curve around her hipbones, while his thumbs turned inward toward her belly button. They rested on her warm flesh instead of the silky fabric. Slowly each one began gliding over her skin and Syranna felt desire shoot through her body. It was so easy to step closer to him. When he eased his head forward, instead of it resting on her breastbone as she expected, he gently eased the fabric away from her right nipple. She lifted her hand to cup the back of his head. The feel of his mouth covering her nipple and lightly sucking it was almost too much.

  “Yes, they would notice, but I don’t care. Marcus!”

  Syranna cried out as Marcus pulled her down on top of himself, and then rolled them in the bed. A moment later she was gasping as his hand strayed down her naked tummy and cupped her pussy. His fingers were already wiggling between her damp folds, easing inside her cunt. She felt his thumb moving insistently forward, gently finding and then working his magic on her clit.

  “Oh!”

  “Don’t hold it in, my love,” Marcus whispered to her as his hand continued to lead her body toward the peak.

  Syranna knew she was breathing faster each second he continued to tease and torment her flesh. She felt him probing inside her—

  “God! Marcus!”

  His fingers massaged her g-spot and between the sensations of this, his thumb on her clit and his mouth on her nipple, she was tipped over the edge.

  “Yes! Marcus! I love you! I love you!”

  As her body orgasmed in sweet release, her soul gave up its secret. She felt Marcus moving, his fingers leaving her body. Only a few seconds later, he was thrusting his cock into her spasming cunt, burying it to the hilt. He pulled back and thrust in again. But his need was as great as hers. After just a few movements with her tight cunt pulling and squeezing around his cock, he was coming deep inside her body.

  “I love you, Syranna! God! I love you so much!”

  A few moments later he dropped to the bed beside her. Syranna could dimly hear his harsh breathing above her own ragged breaths and pounding heart. His next words warmed her heart even more.

  “Marry me, Syranna! We can live here part of the time and on Vikalla part of the time. We’ll raise dragons all the time. What the hell! I’ll build transportation stations just outside my palace and here. I’ll commute to work each day! Just say yes, please!”

  Syranna felt his fingers thread with hers as they lay side by side. It was crazy, but this seemed more real than him getting down on bended knee, as tradition would have him. She squeezed his hand before she replied.

  “What about Uther?”

  “So this is a package deal, huh? I get the princess as long as I accept the dragons and the frog? It works for me, but could we build him a nice little house of his own?”

  Syranna rolled onto her side and propped herself up to look down at Marcus. “He has no other home.”

  “And I doubt we could talk Darmand into taking him, huh? Of course, he can stay. We’ll have to add a few more modern conveniences, though.”

  Syranna kissed him before she questioned what those might be. Marcus grinned up at her.

  “We’ll need a transfer station built much closer and bett
er communication. Is there anyone else who’ll be living with us?” Marcus stopped as they both heard a noise coming closer and closer.

  A few seconds later, three small green bodies dropped down into the bed with them. AnnaBelle nudged her little head between theirs, looking from one to the other.

  “Mmmrrrrrr.”

  Meanwhile, her brothers were climbing onto Marcus’ chest. His namesake plopped down immediately in the middle of his stomach, while Fitzy dropped down onto the bed and walked across it until he reached the top of Marcus’ head. He then dropped down and curled into a semi-circle, almost like a hat, on the pillow at the top of his head.

  Syranna smiled when Marcus looked back at her. “I’d say you’ve been officially welcomed into the family.”

  “I think they are tougher than a father would ever be when he considered a possible suitor for his daughter.”

  “Maybe they’re only troublesome if you have a long white beard and wear purple robes,” Syranna said with a smile.

  “Shame on you, wife!”

  Syranna paused, hearing Marcus try the word on for size. “Are you only marrying me to secure the safety of our worlds?”

  “I would abdicate if you asked me to do it, but then you wouldn’t be the woman I thought you were.”

  “Clever, sir, I must say. But you are right. We will work this out, unlike my mother. I want to live in both worlds, and I want our children to feel free to choose, if they feel the need.”

  “So, you want children?” Marcus reached over and traced his index finger along her upper lip.

  Syranna leaned forward and kissed the finger before it left. “I just assumed, but if we don’t have any then we’ll work something else out. There are lots of children who need love and don’t have parents to give it to them. And dragonets are very good around small children, as long as you keep their harnesses on until they are old enough to control their flames themselves. Zudu could end up with postpartum depression once again after her next brood.”

  “Hmm. Which option you think Uther will find less objectionable, dragonets or children?”

  Syranna lowered her head to rest on his chest. She laughed softly as she imagined Uther struggling to cope with a multitude of dragonets and children of different ages. It was funny. “I think he will have the same reaction to both. But he has a good heart.”

  “And he has a mind that can be easily bent?”

  Syranna shrugged. “I’ve only done that a few times. And now that he knows, it will be even harder.”

  She stopped as she saw AnnaBelle coming toward Marcus’ chest. A moment later, one small shimmering green foot stepped onto Marcus’ arm, using it as a stepping-stone. The claw caught Marcus’ attention but he didn’t move. Syranna turned her head and met his gaze. In his eyes she saw the way she felt about the animals she rescued and brought home to nurture: protective, caring and loving. She knew then that Marcus was indeed the right man for her. He was so much more than the man who should be king. He was the man she loved so much it was almost an ache in her soul.

  “I love you,” she whispered to him softly.

  Marcus grimaced as AnnaBelle kneaded his skin for a second before she settled to sleep near her brother. “I love you, Syranna, and your unusual menagerie too. I believe we shall have an interesting life together.”

  Syranna carefully moved up so she didn’t disturb the dragonets. Pressing a kiss to Marcus’ mouth, she winked at him as she pulled away. “I think we’ll have a whole heck of a lot more than just interesting times, King Marcus. Trust me!”

  Silence reigned for a few moments and it was wonderfully peaceful and calm. Suddenly Marcus remembered something else Syranna had said.

  “What the hell did you mean when you said postpartum depression?”

  Syranna pressed her fingers against his lips a second later. “Don’t fret, my love. I’ll explain it all later, after we’ve had a nice nap. Zudu and I had a lovely long conversation—”

  The End

  About the author:

  Mlyn is a 47-year-old woman living in Indiana, USA. She worked as a Registered Nurse for 23 years in Pediatrics. Reading Barbara Cartland and Harlequin romance novels in high school spurred her to start writing. She did technical writing for her employers until she started writing erotica four years ago. She began her own website for people to view her stories. Mlyn is single and lives with her cranky cat Georgia, who she named after her favorite artist for inspiration, Georgia O’Keeffe.

  Mlyn welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

  Also by Mlyn Hurn:

  Blood Dreams

  Blood Dreams 2: Hunter’s Legacy

  Burning Desires

  Elemental Desires

  Family and Promises

  Family Secrets

  His Dance Lessons

  Medieval Mischief

  Rebel Slave

  Submissive Passion

  The Cattleman

  Things That Go Bump In The Night 3

  WHAT A QUEEN WANTS

  Bella Andre

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth walked down the stone hallway, lit by green and blue swirled glass sconces. Her thoughts were dark and heavy and her beautiful face bore faint lines of worry. She was an unusually stunning woman—her hair a natural strawberry-blonde, her eyes a vivid, startling blue—but on days like today when she was troubled by news from her staff, she felt decades older than her thirty years.

  Many times she had selfishly wished that she had been born into a normal family, like anyone else. As a child, she had daydreamed about attending school with other children. But instead of having fun with playmates her same age, instead of playing leap-frog and jump-rope, she had watched them with envy from her window high above the fields as they ran after dogs, swam in streams, and rode horses over the mountains.

  As she grew older, Elizabeth began to wish for nothing more than the power to do whatever she wanted to.

  Of course, Elizabeth understood that the Queen of Magonia could not be permitted to live such a normal existence, lest the country be left without a ruler. Her parents had died when she was five years old, in a plane crash in the mountains, and so the throne had passed on to her. Elizabeth’s earliest memory was of the chief counselor instructing her not to cry upon hearing the news of her parents’ deaths.

  She learned the lesson well: a royal must never show emotion, regardless of how frightening the situation might be.

  Her heart beat in time to the click-clack of her blood-red stiletto heels on the cold stone floor. She wrapped her slender arms around her shoulders and shivered slightly. She was thankful that the electricians had finally figured out how to install central heating in the ancient castle, after years of having to wrap her body in thick furs, even in the summer. Right now, she looked forward to a bath, hoping the warm water would soothe the tired and aching muscles around her neck and shoulders.

  Elizabeth stared blankly out the small hall window, down to the gardens below. Something inside her stirred as she spotted a young couple kissing passionately. Firmly, she tamped down on her reaction, working to convince herself that she wasn’t the least bit interested in having a romantic relationship.

  Unfortunately, she admitted with a small sigh as she turned away from the window, she was having a harder and harder time lying to herself as she grew older. Sure, her hormones were starting to scream for a husband and babies, but Elizabeth was smart enough to realize that at the core of her longings was the one thing she was convinced she would never be able to have.

  Love.

  Finally arriving at the door to her private suite, she opened it and walked into the foyer. The room was pitch-black—she couldn’t see even six inches in front of her face—and Elizabeth assumed that one of the maids must have recently closed her thick red velvet drapes. She shut the door behind her and flicked her finger over the light switch beside the door.

  Nothing happened.<
br />
  “Damn it,” she cursed softly, wishing for the hundredth time that she didn’t have to live in a drafty old castle with outdated wiring. What she wouldn’t give to live in one of those new houses that she admired in the pages of Architectural Digest. If she had her way, she’d live in a house entirely made of glass and wood, with not the slightest bit of stone in sight. She was standing in the dark, thinking about which state-of-the-art residential electronic devices she’d install throughout her dream house, when she heard a small noise.

  Her heart began to pound beneath her ivory silk sheath and red Chanel jacket. “Is someone there?” she asked, her voice tentative and breathy.

  When there was no response, Elizabeth shook her head and chuckled slightly. Of course there was no one else in the room with her. It was just her overactive imagination. It would be impossible for anyone to get past the two huge guards posted at the end of the hallway that led to her private quarters.

  She set down her briefcase on the floor and carefully began to make her way into the front sitting room. All she needed to do was open the drapes and then the pitch-black room would be brilliantly illuminated by the sun.

  She took several slow steps forward, past the wall and entry table that separated the foyer from the sitting room, feeling her way by running her fingers along the smooth, cold cherry table until she again made contact with the pitted stone archway. Reaching out her hands in front of her, she walked through the opening in the four-foot thick rock walls and into the sitting room.

  Waving her hands slowly in front and then beside her body, she crept further into the room, the sharp points of her heels vibrating loudly against the smooth stone floor.

  She was just about to skirt around the spot where she knew the antique sofa sat when a large, calloused hand gripped her wrist. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.