Ladies Prefer Champagne Alpha Male Romance Mega Bundle (34 page)
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Authors: Champagne Jackson
Table of Contents
"The Wolf approaches, my Lord."
The assembled band looked out into the night. I peeked my head out of the ornate carriage my father had order for us: his three daughters, myself and my two sisters. My father is Earl Kizulu, King of the Mobutu, a small kingdom in the north of the land you lowlanders call Epheria. That would make me a princess. And my sisters, as well.
"Kesha, don't look," hissed Dantelle, my youngest sister. She's only fourteen. Then there's Lafree, who's sixteen, and myself. I turned eighteen in the spring.
"I'll look if I want to," I hissed back. My father's men shifted uncomfortably around us. There were at least twenty of them, clad all in thick iron armor, their long, two-handed swords strapped to their backs. They were hard, handsome men, their faces covered in beards and soot from the constant battles that had engulfed our kingdom for the past two years. We had known no peace, no quarter, since the MacPearse clan, cousins of ours, in fact, challenged my father's claim to the throne.
"Father will be angry," Lafree mumbled.
"Rot to what father says," I shot back. "One of us is to marry this Wolf fellow, so we deserve a look at him, at least."
"I heard he transforms into a wolf on his wedding night," Dantelle whispered. "And tears apart his brides."
"That's impossible," Lafree whimpered. "Father wouldn't marry us to someone like that."
"He would if it meant protecting the kingdom," I growled, straining my eyes into the darkness and listening with my ears perked up, trying to pick up the sound of approaching hooves.
But I was foolish to have expected hooves, wasn't I? For this was a wolf who approached.
"Where the bloody hell is he?" my father demanded from atop his horse. He cut a handsome but tired figure in his armor, battered from the unending wars, perpetually splattered with the blood of his enemies and, occasionally, from himself. I could see his exasperated old face, framed by a well-kempt white beard, glistening with nervous sweat in the torchlight.
"Our scouts reported the horses growing anxious, as if there were a wolf in the area," one of the men explained. My father scowled.
"We're in a forest, damn it all. At night. There are wolves, in forests, at night. Of course the horses are frightened! This bastard had better not be late."
"My Lord," began Gadfuin, the Dominican brother who served as my father's confessor and his closest advisor. "The Wolf never goes back on his word. If he said he would meet us on the hillside at midnight, he'll meet us on the hillside at midnight."
"What time is it now?" my father demanded.
"Just past midnight, my Lord."
"And where is he?"
Suddenly, as if all at once, we became aware of the rapid padding of feet, nearing us. There was a great and unexpected cawing of crows as hundreds of birds, once sleeping, rose from the trees around us, taking flight into the darkened sky, their inky black wings lit by the moon. The pounding of feet, strangely soft, grew louder and louder. There was a cracking in the forest, as if a great beast were tearing trees apart, limb from limb. Several of my father's men drew their swords and stood at the ready. They swung their torches, and in the light, I could see their frightened faces, searching the pitch blackness for the approaching friend or foe.
Then he appeared. Never, as long as I live, will I forget the moment I first laid eyes on Victor de Sanchez... The man known as the Wolf.
For he was not a man when I first saw him. A giant creature burst out of the woods, a fierce tangle of black fur and snarling fangs, leaving trails of spit and leaves in its wake. He was almost as big as my father's war horse and he landed, twisting and writhing, before us all: a wolf, a literal wolf, panting and baring its fangs in the torch light. His eyes glowed a bright crimson, as if they were pure blood. The wolf threw back its head and let out a terrifying howl. I shuddered as the howl echoed through the woods and my father's men inched away from the beast.
Then, it began to change. The hair receded into skin and the creature shrunk, leaning back on its haunches as it did and standing up like a man. For a moment, it was giant wolfman, standing on two feet like any other man on God's green earth but half-covered in hair still, its fangs still bared, saliva still dripping from its growling maul.
Then, slowly, its face shrunk, the hound nose receding into the werewolf's skull, the fangs shrinking until they fit in the normal, human mouth, though I could see they still remained, from the cruel smile the Wolf allowed himself as he took in the shocked stares.
"What matter of sorcery is this?" one of my father's men demanded. My father shot the man in question a glare.
"This is the noble Wolf Lord, Victor de Sanchez."
"'The Wolf,' simply, is fine, my Lord," the creature before us said. He was now clad in armor much the same as any of my father's men, though his seemed far stronger, far more menacing with its thick spikes and prominent breastplate.
He was not unattractive now that he was a man. In fact, with his long, thick black hair (the same color, I noted, as his fur when he approached us as a wolf) and his handsome, pale, ruddy skin he was quite fetching. And though he was well-armored, I could only imagine the muscular, powerful body that waited beneath those steel plates...
"As you wish, sir," my father said with a shrug. "You have considered our proposal?"
"I have," the Wolf said with a nod. "The price will be quite fair, I expect, considering the work that is to be done. Fairly routine, I imagine."
"The MacPearse men are not to be trifled with," my father said. I could see him flushing. "They've routed our armies over and over again."
"And I'll rout theirs. That's what you'll be paying me for, isn't it?" the Wolf said with a growl. "Besides, if this is your Honor Guard--" At this, he gestured to the assembled men. "--I can understand why you've been so unsuccessful in your battles."
This elicited cries of indignation from the men. One of them advanced on the Wolf and with the speed of a charging, wild dog, he had his hand around the man's throat. He lifted the young soldier high into the air, squeezing until the poor boy's eyes bulged.
"Let him down!" my father roared, finally.
"As you wish," the Wolf grunted and threw the soldier as effortlessly as a lesser man might toss out a bag of trash. The guard went flying, crashing to the ground some thirty feet away. It took two of his comrades to help him stagger to his feet.
"As we were saying," the Wolf continued. "I expect the price shall be fair. The monetary price, at least."
"The monetary price?"
"The gold, my dear King. But I have yet to see my bride to be."
I swallowed nervously.
"He means us!" Danyelle whispered. I rolled my eyes.
"Of course he does!" I murmured. This was our cue. I opened the door of the carriage and stepped out into the clearing. My sisters followed tentatively.
Each one of us has long, curly dark hair and we look quite similar: dark skin the color of chocolate, with crystalline hazel eyes. Each one of us, my father is fond of saying, is a picture of our mother.
We assembled in a line before the Wolf. He towered over us, a mountain of steel, hair, and muscled-flesh. He smelled vaguely of sweat, raw meat, and blood. I was terrified but I couldn't let my sisters see any fear in my eyes. I stood tall while they cowered, jutting my well-formed young breasts, pushed up by my bodice, forward and under his gaze. He all but salivated when he saw me. He even licked his lips as he stepped forward.
"Well, look at this little flower," he growled, taking my hand in his. He planted a rough kiss on the back of my hand and I blushed.
"My Lord," I said with a polite curtsey.
"That is my oldest, Kesha," my father said slowly, uncertainly.
"The others would be younger... Tighter... More likely to squeal..." the Wolf mumbled, looking us over. "But I suspect I can make you squeal and cry as much as your sisters, can't I?"
I pursed my lips tight, but I refused to lose my composure.
"I'm certain my Lord would be quite skilled at satisfying my every need," I said, suddenly very proud of my tact. The Wolf threw his head back and laughed. It looked quite similar to how he howled when on all fours.
"A good answer! Tell me, child, that beautiful red hair of yours... Will I find it elsewhere on your body? Is that a rose you've got between your legs or just a brown little crabapple?"
"My Lord, you can't let your daughter be humiliated like this!" roared one of my father's men. "Let us kill this disgusting sorcerer."
"Kill me?" the Wolf cackled. "Can you kill the wind? Can you kill the sea? I'm more than you've ever seen, boy. I've killed more men than you've ever known, and I've eaten their wives and children as well. There are entire armies that lie, forever in the ground, because of me. Mothers invoke my name to scare misbehaving children."
"I know the good Wolf Lord is simply having a bit of fun," I put in quickly and reached out to lay my hand on the Wolf's arm. He raised an eyebrow at my forwardness. "I think we all need a good laugh in these dark times and I, personally, am grateful that our new friend provides us with one."
No one said anything for quite a while. Then, the Wolf's mouth curled into a cruel smile.
"This one should rule your kingdom for you, my dear King. She's the smartest one here. Smarter than you, smarter than me, smarter than all these butcher boys and farmhands combined. I've made my decision. After the battle, after I've delivered the head of Rowan MacPearse to you, I'll take this one for my bride."
My father nodded his head in assent. "As you wish."
Not quite knowing what to do, I performed another curtsey. The Wolf reached out and grabbed me by the hair. I yelped and squeezed my eyes shut. I heard the sound of swords being unsheathed all around.
"I'll be seeing you soon, my precious little one," he growled, and he leaned in, to plant a kiss on my lips.
And oh, gods, what a kiss! His mouth was rough and full of fangs, and I felt as though he were about to rip me apart right then and there as his mouth claimed--yes, claimed is the only word for it--claimed my lips, lips which till that point had never touched another man's. His hot breath filled me and warmed me in the cold night and as he let me go, I felt my cheeks burning.
“I will meet your armies at your keep early tomorrow morning. We’ll refuse them battle until night time, when I’m able to revert to my other form at will. Then, and only then, will I lead your armies into the fray. Is that understood?”
“It is,” my father confirmed.
“Excellent. Adieu, then. Until tomorrow.”
Battle
The Wolf routed the enemy army easily. I heard stories, terrible stories, the morning after: how our armies retreated for hours, drawing the enemy forces into the woods where the Wolf was strong, the most comfortable. He revealed his true form then and raced through the forest, slaughtering and killing, leading our men in an orgy of violence and death. They took no prisoners and scouts reported that only a handful of soldiers were able to escape with their lives.
I was to be married the next day and my hand maidens brought me ten or twenty dresses to choose from. The colors, the soft silks, the gorgeous frills, they made me dizzy. Even more than that, I was made dizzy by the prospect of being the Wolf’s woman. I lay awake nights in terror, imagining how he would take me, what he would do to me. It horrified me but it excited me too.
On some level, perhaps I was tired of the weak men I had grown up around. Weak? Yes, I don’t hesitate to call them weak. Compared to the Wolf, compared to Victor de Sanchez, wouldn’t anyone be weak?
It was late in the evening as I slid on the final gown, the one I had all but decided on conclusively.
“It’s very beautiful, my mistress,” whispered Diara, my most favorite handmaiden and my best friend.
“I suppose it is,” I said sadly. In another life, in another world, another time, I would have fallen in love with the gorgeous bright green gown. But now, it only sickened me to feel its fabric on my flesh, to see my reflection, clad in its loveliness, in the mirror. My red curls glowed—really, they glowed!—against the backdrop of the dress. My young breasts and curves stood out as the gown hugged me beautifully.
“I like it too,” a guttural voice came from across the room. I spun around and Diara shrieked. There, sitting on the balcony, was the Wolf, Victor de Sanchez. He was half-wolf, half-man and as he took a step off the balcony, he transformed, becoming all man, hairy still and clad in his armor.
“I’m not to see you till tomorrow,” I said defiantly, though I couldn’t keep a note of excitement out of my voice. “Diara, leave us.”
“My lady—“ she said, her mouth agape.
“You’d better do what she says,” the Wolf said with a fiendish grin. “I’m sure she just wants to protect you. What’s about to happen won’t be pretty.”
“I won’t allow you to dishonor my lady on the night before her wedding!” Diara declared, drawing herself up before the Wolf. Poor, poor, dear, stupid Diara!
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” I said softly. I reached out a hand and laid it on Diara’s arm. “Don’t worry about me. Speak not a word of this and leave. It matters not when the good Wolf takes me, as I am to be his.”
“Such a clever one you are!” the Wolf cackled. He produced a bottle of a strong smelling red liquid and plucked a small glass from a table in the corner, pouring out a small quantity.
“My lady… My thoughts will be with you.”
“That’s filthy,” the Wolf said with another cackle. “You may leave us!”
Diara was on the verge of tears but I nodded solemnly and she left, trembling. I turned to glower at the Wolf but he was already thrusting the small glass of red liquid.
“Does your father let you have port, my dear?”
“No, never. I’ve never had wine except for the holy communion.”
“Bah! Communion wine. This, this will bring you closer to God,” he said, pressing the wine under my nose.
“You shan’t blaspheme in my chambers,” I growled, but I took the port and drank it. It warmed my throat with its pleasant, biting sweetness. My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s like… It’s like candy and honey and berries,” I exclaimed.
“Good, isn’t it? Another glass?”
He didn’t wait for me to consent. He poured me another glass and then, digging out a larger mug for himself, poured himself a huge quantity.
“To our matrimony,” he said with a smile and we clinked glasses.
“And our wedding night,” I said quickly. “May it be chaste and unspoiled by premature indiscretions.”
The Wolf burst out laughing, port dribbling out of his mouth.
“You’re a cheeky one! I like you. I knew I picked the best sister. You’ve passed eighteen summers, correct?”
I bowed my head, my red curls shaking slightly as I trembled. “I have, my lord.”
“The perfect age. You ought to undress now. You don’t want to ruin that beautiful gown before your wedding.”
I paused and took a deep breath.
“A good suggestion, my lord.”