Elias’ lips touch each cheek before his forehead lowers and presses against my own. “You will join me, my bride.”
I wish that he would call me sweeting. I didn’t know that it was something I would miss the moment that it was gone.
He takes a step back from me and much to my surprise, his hand rests against my lower back and together we follow behind Merek as he leads us toward the office, or chancery, whatever they call it here.
ELIAS
Something stirs deep inside of me. It is merely a flicker, but it happens every single time that my gaze lands on the pretty woman standing at my side. No, she is not just a pretty woman, or a maiden, she is my wife.
Wife.
I cannot believe that I have zero recollection of this marriage, of the consummation least of all. My hand feels natural against her back, a warming sensation fills me from the inside out.
I don’t remove it, instead, I slide it farther around her waist and tuck her against my side. She follows without hesitation, a small sigh escaping her plump lips when she does.
“Tell me what’s happened.” I demand after the chancery is filled with all six of my men, two witches, and two maids.
The men clear their throats, but it is the witches who begin to talk. They tell me the tale of the prophecy, something else that I don’t remember. I don’t understand how I could have forgotten so much of the past several months.
“Ryia was full of dark magic from the goddesses, Erinyes,” Godiva explains. “She wanted to stop the prophecy by taking your love of Sybilla from you.”
Glancing down at my wife, I frown before I pull her even closer to my side. “They will not win,” I murmur. “Make me remember, witch. Make me love her again.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Aleida says, her voice sounding as sad as she looks. I want to shake the witches, scream at them and tell them to do as I demand, but I don’t.
“What do I do then?”
Sybilla takes a step forward, forcing the arm wrapped around her waist to fall away. She straightens her back, squaring her shoulders, then clears her throat.
“Can you do that binding spell again?” she asks. “Bind me to my true love.”
Godiva holds up her hand as she closes her eyes. I watch as she inhales, then her body begins to tremble. “He is still bound to you, Your Highness,” she whispers. “I can feel it within him, though the dark magic is out of his body, Ryia’s power was great when she sucked his love of you out of him. It will be up to you and mayhap the gods to replenish it.”
“How?” I roar.
“Time, Your Majesty. You are fated for one another, but the love you once shared was not purely magical, or brought on solely by the prophecy, the two of you built that love together. You will again if it is meant to be.”
We all stay silent for a moment, my Queen does not turn around to look at me again and I find that I do not like it. I want her pretty golden eyes on me, eyes that are the exact shade of gold as my coat of arms.
“You’ll continue to stay with us, if you attempt to disappear again, you will be locked in the dungeon,” I inform the witches.
Aleida dips her chin in submission, Godiva, as is her way, only arches a brow. “We must make sure that no other dark magic infiltrates us. What can you do to assure me that it will not happen again?”
There is a moment of silence and Godiva sighs. “Unfortunately, we do not gain our magic from the gods and goddesses. We are not more powerful than they are, we do, however, love loopholes, so we will stay on Your Highness and we will work tirelessly to ensure that you, your wife and your wee babe are protected, always.”
“What of my men, my people?” I demand.
Godiva shakes her head once. “Our magic is only so powerful. It would deplete us to attempt to protect an entire country, Your Highness. Then we would be useless and you would be unprotected.”
Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends before I let out a breath. “What can we do?”
Aleida takes a step toward me, she extends her palm and focuses her gaze on my own. I watch as her eyes begin to swirl with black and gold. She mutters something that I can’t understand, her eyes continuing to swirl with color until a deep gray mist surrounds me.
“You are protected, Your Highness. No harm will come to you or the ones you love,” she whispers.
I don’t miss the way she says, ones you love, her gaze shifting to Sybilla. “What of my wife and babe?” I ask on a whisper.
Her lips tip up into a small smile. “Take your wife away on holiday. Fall in love with her, watch as she grows your child inside of her womb and when you are good and truly in love with her once again, she will be automatically under your protection.”
“Sard,” I hiss. “Until then?”
Godiva takes a step forward. “She is your fated, done so by the gods, Your Majesty. No true harm will come to her unless it is destined by the gods hands.”
I hate her words. They cause me to fill with a mix of anger and frustration.
“My Queen,” I whisper.
She turns to me, her eyes wide and so very sad. Holding out my hand, palm up, I wait for her to come to me. She slips her cool fingers in mine and I tug her against me, causing her to crash against my chest.
Lifting my other hand, I bury my fingers in the back of her hair, shifting her head to the side before I slam my mouth to hers.
Sybilla gasps, which is exactly what I want as I slip my tongue deep inside of her mouth, tasting her, circling her, hoping that this will cause the memories to flood back.
They don’t.
Though we’re both breathless by the end, I break the kiss and look into her gorgeous gold eyes. Her eyes are practically glittering with gold flakes as she catches her breath, her eyes wide and focused on mine.
Bending down slightly, I slip one arm beneath her knees, the other wraps around her back and I pick her up, holding her against my chest. Turning from everyone in the room, I begin to walk toward the door, stopping to look back at Merek.
“Get this place running, then come back to Aerilon,” I announce.
“Elias, you cannot. What about the princess here, what will you have me do with the people?”
Looking over my shoulder at my cousin, I grin. “Do as you wish with the princess, she must have family somewhere she can go and be with. If not, she may come back to Bunafi and stay with us until she finds a husband. As long as she pledges her loyalty to my crown, no harm will come to her. I trust you Merek, you are more than qualified for this,” I state.
He dips his chin. “What of my marriage?” He seems nervous, as if I’d forgotten about his devotion to his handmaid.
“Marry her, brother.”
Without another word, I leave the room. “Elias,” Sybilla cries.
I don’t stop walking, my eyes flicking to my wife. Still such a foreign concept. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you away. We’re going to spend time with one another, we’re going to fall in love and wait for this prophecy to continue, but until then, I am going to enjoy my wife and all the pleasures she has to offer me.”
Dipping my chin, I touch my lips to hers. “There is something flickering inside of me, Sybilla. It is not just lust, it is deeper and I aim to find out what it is, if it could indeed be love.”
“The witches took your pain from your past about your parents away from you. Do you feel hesitant about me, about love?” she asks, her voice so sweet that I feel it deep in my cock.
Shaking my head once, I don’t recall them taking that pain from me, but I do feel hopeful that I will feel deeply for my wife. Not just because of this prophecy, but also because I want a happy marriage, and I feel deep inside of me that this woman does that—makes me happy.
“Don’t tell me until you know for sure, until you feel it, but I love you, Elias Wainwright.”
My lips turn up into a grin. “And I will fall in love with you, Sybilla Wainwright, for I do not think that any man in
your presence could not fall madly in love with you, sweeting.”
Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
SYBILLA
Sitting straight up, I let out a whimper as I place my hand on my now rounding belly. Looking to my side, I frown when I realize that I am alone. Elias is not next to me, and since coming back to Aerilon eight weeks ago, he hasn’t left my side for more than just a few hours.
In fact, we’ve spent the majority of the past two months in bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, enjoying one another—immensely. I thought that he would change since losing his memory of me, but he hasn’t, not in the slightest.
He’s still the same in and out of bed, and I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief the first time that he took me, and that’s exactly what he did, he took, then he gave, then he repeated himself over and over again.
Slipping out of bed, I hiss as my feet meet the cold stone floor. Grabbing the fur-lined robe that is draped at the foot of the bed, I slip it on and go in search of my husband. It doesn’t take me long to find him, he’s sitting in his chancery, his eyes focused outside at the forest shadows in the distance.
“Elias?” I call.
He turns, a goblet of alcohol in his hand. His eyes find mine and he frowns. “You should not be out of bed, and you assuredly should not have bared feet,” he murmurs.
Shrugging a shoulder, I close the distance between us. “I couldn’t sleep. I felt like something was wrong. What’s happened?”
He lifts the hand not holding his drink and slides it around my waist. “I am just thinking, still very much angry that I cannot remember the months that we shared before that witch stripped me of my memories, of my feelings.”
I cup his cheeks and do something that I haven’t done since we’ve been back. Extending my finger, I touch the top of his scar. As if by automatic reflex, his eyes close and I trail my fingertip down the rough skin.
“Don’t be angry, Elias. They will come back and we have made so many awesome ones since then. Not a moment of time was lost for me, but I can say with certainty that the past two months have been my happiest here in this world.”
His eyes open slowly and that’s when it happens. His back arches, his eyes glitter, turning silver. I watch as he bares his teeth, his nostrils flare, and then as quickly as it came, it disappears and his eyes turn steel blue again.
“Elias?” I chance asking, my body trembling from whatever has just happened.
His lips tip up into a smirk. “I remember,” he rasps.
His lips slam against mine in a hard, bruising, unyielding and perfect kiss before he lifts his head to look into my eyes again.
“I remember,” he repeats. “Gods bones, I remember. I was terrible to you, sweeting. When we met, when we were first wed, I was awful,” he murmurs.
My lips turn up into a smile and I can’t help myself, I laugh. “You were, but I fell in love with you and still do love you, Elias.”
He slants his head and his soft lips touch mine, this time kissing me and owning me, sensually making love to my mouth and I let him, every single second that goes by my body warms from the inside out.
“I need you,” I whimper.
He grins against my lips, “Aye, sweeting.” Elias picks me up by the backs of my thighs and plops me down on the edge of his desk. “And you will always have me, I love you, My Queen.”
ELIAS
Burying myself inside of my sweet wife, I freeze with one hand twisting in the back of her hair, the other clenched around her hip. My eyes focus on hers, never wanting to look away from her again, too afraid that my memories will be stolen again.
My memories came back in a flood, a rush that felt as though they ripped through me. I know not if it was her sweet touch of my scar, or simply her that made them come back to me, but I fear asking any questions.
I fear that my memories returning has to do with some kind of witchcraft, but I decide to be thankful, grateful that they’re back and nothing more.
“Elias,” she exhales, her eyes dancing as she lifts her hands and cups my cheeks.
I taste her thumb as it traces my lips, nipping the pad. Gripping her hair harder, I slowly pull out before I sink back inside. Her sweet bottom is perched on the edge of the desk, her dancing eyes are on mine and her queynte is warm and slick, inviting, and mine.
“I love you, Sybilla,” I say, repeating my words from just moments ago.
Her lips tip up in a small smile as I pull out, then glide back inside, grinding my pelvis against the sweet nub that I know will bring her toward an orgasm. Her hands move to my shoulders and I watch in awe as her head falls back, a moan escaping her lips.
Leaning over her, I touch my mouth to her neck and continue to make love to her. My wife. The woman carrying my babe in her belly. My everything.
Sybilla’s nails dig into my shoulders and I welcome the slight bite of pain as she grips me harder with each thrust and roll of my hips. Sweat gathers against my lower back, my breathing comes out in pants, my balls pull up and I’m moments from climaxing.
“Harder,” she moans.
Grinning against her neck, I slam into my wife, harder, as per her request. I don’t know if it is because she’s from another world, or if it’s just her, but the woman is a perfect match for me, in every way.
It doesn’t take long for her to find her release, her arms and legs wrap around me, squeezing and holding me against her body. My body trembles as I lose the small grasp that I have of my control.
Lifting my head, I watch her face as my hips continue to slam into her, pounding against her sweet body over and over. Her body is limp, her muscles that were once taut, relaxing as I continue to take her.
When she lifts her head, her eyes find mine and a lazy smile appears on her lips. “Yes, take me,” she purrs.
“Who am I?” I grind out. I haven’t made her call me her king since I lost my memories, they’re back and I want to hear it, no, I need to hear her say the words.
“Elias,” she breathes.
I shake my head once, my brow arching as I continue to grind my pelvis against her nub, knowing that she is sensitive, all while I clench my jaw as I try to delay my climax, needing to hear her say the words for me.
“My King,” she breathes.
Driving my hips forward, I bury my cock deep inside of her and roar as my release empties inside of her. My vision blurs and I grunt when I feel her hands leave my shoulders and wrap around the sides of my neck. She pulls me down closer to her before she presses her lips against mine.
“I love you, My King,” she breathes. “I have never been so happy in all of my life, welcome back.”
Bride of the Warrior
A Prophecy of Sisters Short Story
Prologue
MEREK
I see her walk across the courtyard, it is impossible not to see her. She always stands diligently behind her mistress, a constant, and a woman who constantly makes my cock stand hard and at attention, begging for release inside of her undoubtedly sweet body.
“The Queen knows naught of how to ride a horse,” Cornwall announces.
Jerking my chin, I shift my gaze from the sweet handmaid to Sybilla, the queen from another world. She is pretty, beautiful, and my cousin is an idiot for not appreciating the gift that she is.
Originally, I wanted no part of her, but after getting to know her over the past few weeks, I’m discovering that there is very much to like about this strange woman. “I will teach her,” I announce.
Cornwall nods, fading away. My gaze shifts from the queen to her maid again. Licking my lips, I decide that I’ll have her and soon. She seems a bit hesitant, but I know that once I have her alone, she will be unable to resist my charms.
Grinning, I turn away from them. My plan is to start seducing the sweet Katrina tonight, after we eat our evening meal.
Once she’s consumed just a bit of wine, not too much, just enough to lower her inhibitions a touch, I know that she’ll be more tha
n willing to accept at least some of my advances.
Though, I do not plan on taking her this eve, when I am buried between her thighs for the first time, she will have all her wits about her.
KATRINA
Maybe he doesn’t think that I have eyes. I can sense him watching me, every time that he is anywhere near me. I should be grateful, flattered, and appreciative of his gaze on me. Instead, I am heated, flustered, and extremely uncomfortable.
I know what the glances, the staring, the focused gaze means for a man like him and a girl like me. He is royalty, he is the first cousin to the King of Bunafi. I am common, and even worse than that, I am a servant on top of it.
A man like him could crook his finger at any woman and she is expected to lift her skirts for him. He could force me to do that, force me to take him inside of me and then toss me to the side and nobody would think anything of it. I’ve heard of it happening to more than one servant.
“He likes you,” Ellyn whispers.
Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head once as I lift the goblet of wine to my lips. “He does not know me,” I state.
She hums. “He does not have to know your mind to know what he likes. Many marriages take place between people who like one another yet don’t even know the other person’s favorite color.”
I snort. She’s right. So many people marry for one reason or another, their lusting bodies being the only thing that they have in common their entire lives. That is not what I want for myself. I want a true romance, like those that are written about in books. That is what I want.
“Looks like he is ready to finally make his play,” she whispers.
Lifting my eyes, I see that Ellyn is right. Merek casually strolls toward me as if I am his prey and he is the largest cat in the world. Licking my lips, I bring the goblet to my mouth and finish the contents, hoping that the false courage from the wine will allow me to tell him that I will not have him.
Bride of the Traitor: A Prophecy of Sisters Novel Page 29
