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teeth may ache. 
RELEASE BLITZ ~ Forbidden Princess by Alexa Riley
Tabitha is destined to marry a king and unite her powerful family with another. But she’s never been one to do what she’s told, and she’s decided to make her own destiny.
Vlad has devoted his life to guarding his king and never thought about taking a wife. But all bets are off when a sassy, dark-haired princess appears.
These two are hot and fast, but when Tabby’s parents step in, things get messy. Can they forgo tradition and make their own way, or will the divide break them?
Warning: Okay, okay…stop asking. They get their story. Happy now?
Vlad has devoted his life to guarding his king and never thought about taking a wife. But all bets are off when a sassy, dark-haired princess appears.
These two are hot and fast, but when Tabby’s parents step in, things get messy. Can they forgo tradition and make their own way, or will the divide break them?
Warning: Okay, okay…stop asking. They get their story. Happy now?
*Tabby*
Putting one last curl into Al’s hair, I step back and take a look at my handiwork.
“You look like a hooker. One of those American ones,” I tease her, smiling. I think we nailed it. My obsession with my favorite movie Pretty Woman gave me the idea to go with a Vivian Ward look. I love doing Al’s hair, but she hardly lets me anymore. It’s not like when we were little and I did it every day before she learned to do it herself.
She doesn’t like her long blonde locks, but I love them. They always make me think of a fairy tale, which seems appropriate since we are both princesses.
“As long as I don’t have to dress like a hooker, it’s perfect,” she tells me, making me laugh. I don’t think I could get Alena to show that much skin, even if I held her down and put the outfit on her myself.
“I say keep it simple on the outfit.” I walk over to the bed, picking up a dress I know will look perfect on her. I talked her into getting it forever ago, but it’s sat in the back of her closet since then. “This.”
I hold up the green dress, knowing it will make her blonde hair even brighter. She might not like her hair, but I think it makes her shine like a star. Plus, the dress is somewhat modest, coming to her knees, with little capped sleeves. It will look perfect on her. Maybe a little too perfect for our plans though. This dress might not scare away her future husband.
“I can’t wear that. I’ll have to wear heels.”
I have to stifle a laugh. Alena is the worst in heels. It’s actually pretty comical to see her in them. Like a little baby deer learning to walk.
“Yep. I’ve seen you in heels. You’re a walking accident waiting to happen. So heels it is.”
I pick up a pair of black heels that will go well with the dress. The point is to make her seem like a mess if we want to scare away the man demanding her hand in marriage. The man who will take my sister away from me. It’s always been the two of us. I still remember when Mom brought her home from the hospital. I thought she’d be mine to take care of, to protect from the crappy-ish parents we had, and that’s what I did. And that’s what I’m doing today.
We are going to send this potential husband running for the hills. Though after the picture I saw of him, I’m not sure he’s ever run from anything in his life. He has his sights set on my sweet, innocent little sister, and I don’t know if he can be stopped. She’s too soft for a man who looks like he could rip someone in half with his bare hands.
Handing her the heels, I grab my own dress. Unlike Al, I love dressing up. Hair, makeup, and clothes have been my obsession since I could walk. I slip on the tight red dress and pull at it a little to make sure it’s all in place.
“Wait, are you trying to get his attention so he’ll marry you? I thought we were scaring him off,” Alena says.
I watch as panic lights up her face. I did try and take Al’s place when I found out someone had called for her hand in marriage. I knew she didn’t want to get married, just like me. At least not to a king. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as royalty. I want something more simple. But for Alena I’d do anything, including asking if I could take her place. I was older and had been asked multiple times, but each time, my parents turned them down. The one good thing they’d ever done for me. But when King Roman called for Al, our parents jumped all over it and he would have no one but her. From my understanding I don’t think trying to get him to look at me could possibly work. He was intent on having Alena. The only thing we could do was make him think she wasn’t that great of a catch. It’s all we could come up with. Though I have a feeling this isn’t going to work. Alena never gets how much she really glows without even trying.
But I can’t help but wonder at the look on her face. Is there jealousy there? Maybe she likes the king a little more than she’s willing to admit aloud.
“Whatever you want,” I tell her. Because I will do whatever she needs me to do. We always do that for each other. We’re a team. A team that is about to be split up.
“Girls!” my mom yells before the door opens. “Let’s go.” She gives us a glance to make sure we look presentable because that’s all she cares about. She turns and heads out of the room, a glass full of wine in hand like always. Hopefully she’s had enough to not be a total pain-in-the-ass tonight.
I watch Alena slip on the heels and almost fall over. I snort, unable to help myself, while putting my own on.
“Come on.” I lock my arm with hers to help her walk so she doesn’t hurt herself before we even get there. We make our way towards the great room with only a few minor stumbles along the way.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Al whispers. I hate the tremble in her voice. It makes a protectiveness rise up in me “I’m so shy. I don’t know if I can make a fool of myself.”
“I’ll be right here. We’ve got this,” I reassure her.
I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be right here to make a fool of myself right along with her. Hopefully this king will think we’re a hot mess and run for the hills, wanting nothing to do with us. She looks up at me and nods.
When we turn the corner into the great room we both freeze. Everyone looks at us, but my eyes go to one spot, and I feel every part of my body come alive.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself.
The man standing against the far wall has his eyes trained on me. They are the greenest I’ve ever seen in my life. His giant arms are folded over his chest, and I know instantly from his stance he’s a guard. He’s built like a tank, with big muscles and a wide chest. His hair is so thick and dark, I know our babies would have hair just like him. Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I had that thought.
As if he can read my mind, a smirk pulls at his full lips.
Someone steps in front of him, blocking my view. I don’t know if I’m thankful for that or not. It’s then I notice it’s Roman. His eyes are focused fully on my sister. He looks almost angry. It’s then I realize it’s because she’s looking where I was looking. At the mystery man with green eyes. I can see jealousy written all over Roman’s face.
“Sweetheart, this is King Roman,” I hear our mother say.
I glance over at her and see she’s got a giant smile on her face. She’s all too happy to pass her daughter off so easily. She doesn’t care if Alena even wants to go. No, not my mother. I stare at her for a moment, and for the first time, I really feel hate for her.
Lost in my reverie, I miss Roman come flying across the room. He grabs Alena, who was tripping over her own shoes. He pulls her towards him, and I watch my sister melt into him as if she’s done it a thousand times.
I glance back to my mystery man, who’s now moved closer. He stares right at me. I feel like he can see though my clothes. His gaze roams over me as if he owns me, as if he has personal knowledge of my body. I’m used to men looking at me, but this feels different. I know he wants me, but it’s more than that. He wants to own me. The thought should piss me off. It’s why I’ve never liked this arranged marriage crap. A man showing up and taking me just isn’t going to happen. But why now, with this stranger, am I feeling a tingling all over my body at the thought?
“Hi,” I hear Al say, and it pulls my eyes reluctantly away from the man.
Her voice is awkward and doesn’t sound anything like her. I can’t help but snort. I know the sound gets her, because she starts to fight a laugh.
“Tabby,” she says, her eyes still locked with Roman’s. I’m a little shocked she’s holding his stare. “I think our plan is working.”
His eyes narrow on her. It takes everything in me not to burst into laughter. I can feel my body shaking, wanting to let the laughter go, but I fight it back.
“You can’t say that out loud. He can hear you,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, but I know everyone can hear me.
I sneak a glance at my green-eyed mystery man, wanting to focus my attention on him again, wanting to make sure those eyes are still on me. Damn, maybe I’m starting to feel that ownership crap, too. Yep, eyes still on me, only this time he’s smiling at me. It makes him not look so deadly. Unlike Alena, I can’t hold a stare, so I look away, feeling my face heat at being caught ogling him. I’m never shy, but something about him makes me feel that way.
“Roman.” My mystery man speaks for the first time. “I think she’s good.” I glance back to Alena, who’s still in King Roman’s arms, feet dangling off the ground. He places her on her feet and takes a step back. I can tell he’s fighting it. He doesn’t want to let her go.
“Tabby?” Roman says my nickname but doesn’t look at me. He won’t look away from his betrothed.
“No, I’m Alena.” My sister corrects him like she thinks it’s an honest mistake. Yeah right, this man knows who she is. If I had to guess, from the way he’s acting he knows everything about her.
“I know who you are, my princess.” He looks over at me, taking his eyes off Alena for the first time since we walked into the room. “Tabitha.” He says my full name this time. Only Alena calls me Tabby. “Can you take my princess to her room to remove these ridiculous shoes before she hurts herself?”
“Hey, she isn’t my servant,” Al snaps at him, and I watch her square her shoulders in a very un-Alena-like way.
“I help Alena with stuff all the time.” I jump in. Maybe if he thinks she needs me, I can go with them when they marry. It would be a fight with my parents because they want to marry me off, too, but Roman is very powerful. Alena frowns at my random comment, clearly not getting it. I can tell this man will do anything to have her, so maybe now I can convince him that I need to go with her. That’s what’s really been bothering us this whole time—the thought of no longer having each other. It’s always been Al and me.
“Then help her remove the layer of what’s painted on her face as well,” Roman adds.
Alena takes a step back from him, and I think she wants to smack him. She isn’t seeing what I’m seeing. I’m guessing he’s seen pictures of her before and he wants that Al. Not this made-up one we created in hopes of scaring him away. I kind of like that.
“Alena. Do as you’re told,” our mother half-whispers, half-scolds. Her scolding tone is no different, even in front of a king. I can’t fight my eye roll.
Roman turns to look at our mother. Her face is scrunched, and I can tell she’s pissed. We’re going to get it later.
“You don’t give her orders. She will be Queen in one week’s time. She doesn’t take orders.” Roman’s voice is stern and final. He just gave her a command, and it will be followed. He earned a few points in my book right there. He stood up for her and put our mother in her place.
“Except from you, I guess,” I hear Alena say, looking down at the floor and taking another step back from Roman. Clearly she’s trying to get space from him.
“All your whispers are too loud. Keep them in your head,” I tell her, a little too loudly myself. Crap, we are terrible at this.
“Alena,” Roman says, drawing our attention. He doesn’t look mad. In fact, he looks like he’s fighting a smile. Yep, we are definitely terrible at this.
“Please.” The word, laced with urgency, comes from his lips, and I can tell it’s not a word he uses often.
Al grabs my hand and pulls me from the room, clearly wanting to escape. I glance back over my shoulder to my mystery man. I don’t know his name, but from the look on his face, I don’t think I will ever escape him.
“You look like a hooker. One of those American ones,” I tease her, smiling. I think we nailed it. My obsession with my favorite movie Pretty Woman gave me the idea to go with a Vivian Ward look. I love doing Al’s hair, but she hardly lets me anymore. It’s not like when we were little and I did it every day before she learned to do it herself.
She doesn’t like her long blonde locks, but I love them. They always make me think of a fairy tale, which seems appropriate since we are both princesses.
“As long as I don’t have to dress like a hooker, it’s perfect,” she tells me, making me laugh. I don’t think I could get Alena to show that much skin, even if I held her down and put the outfit on her myself.
“I say keep it simple on the outfit.” I walk over to the bed, picking up a dress I know will look perfect on her. I talked her into getting it forever ago, but it’s sat in the back of her closet since then. “This.”
I hold up the green dress, knowing it will make her blonde hair even brighter. She might not like her hair, but I think it makes her shine like a star. Plus, the dress is somewhat modest, coming to her knees, with little capped sleeves. It will look perfect on her. Maybe a little too perfect for our plans though. This dress might not scare away her future husband.
“I can’t wear that. I’ll have to wear heels.”
I have to stifle a laugh. Alena is the worst in heels. It’s actually pretty comical to see her in them. Like a little baby deer learning to walk.
“Yep. I’ve seen you in heels. You’re a walking accident waiting to happen. So heels it is.”
I pick up a pair of black heels that will go well with the dress. The point is to make her seem like a mess if we want to scare away the man demanding her hand in marriage. The man who will take my sister away from me. It’s always been the two of us. I still remember when Mom brought her home from the hospital. I thought she’d be mine to take care of, to protect from the crappy-ish parents we had, and that’s what I did. And that’s what I’m doing today.
We are going to send this potential husband running for the hills. Though after the picture I saw of him, I’m not sure he’s ever run from anything in his life. He has his sights set on my sweet, innocent little sister, and I don’t know if he can be stopped. She’s too soft for a man who looks like he could rip someone in half with his bare hands.
Handing her the heels, I grab my own dress. Unlike Al, I love dressing up. Hair, makeup, and clothes have been my obsession since I could walk. I slip on the tight red dress and pull at it a little to make sure it’s all in place.
“Wait, are you trying to get his attention so he’ll marry you? I thought we were scaring him off,” Alena says.
I watch as panic lights up her face. I did try and take Al’s place when I found out someone had called for her hand in marriage. I knew she didn’t want to get married, just like me. At least not to a king. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as royalty. I want something more simple. But for Alena I’d do anything, including asking if I could take her place. I was older and had been asked multiple times, but each time, my parents turned them down. The one good thing they’d ever done for me. But when King Roman called for Al, our parents jumped all over it and he would have no one but her. From my understanding I don’t think trying to get him to look at me could possibly work. He was intent on having Alena. The only thing we could do was make him think she wasn’t that great of a catch. It’s all we could come up with. Though I have a feeling this isn’t going to work. Alena never gets how much she really glows without even trying.
But I can’t help but wonder at the look on her face. Is there jealousy there? Maybe she likes the king a little more than she’s willing to admit aloud.
“Whatever you want,” I tell her. Because I will do whatever she needs me to do. We always do that for each other. We’re a team. A team that is about to be split up.
“Girls!” my mom yells before the door opens. “Let’s go.” She gives us a glance to make sure we look presentable because that’s all she cares about. She turns and heads out of the room, a glass full of wine in hand like always. Hopefully she’s had enough to not be a total pain-in-the-ass tonight.
I watch Alena slip on the heels and almost fall over. I snort, unable to help myself, while putting my own on.
“Come on.” I lock my arm with hers to help her walk so she doesn’t hurt herself before we even get there. We make our way towards the great room with only a few minor stumbles along the way.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Al whispers. I hate the tremble in her voice. It makes a protectiveness rise up in me “I’m so shy. I don’t know if I can make a fool of myself.”
“I’ll be right here. We’ve got this,” I reassure her.
I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be right here to make a fool of myself right along with her. Hopefully this king will think we’re a hot mess and run for the hills, wanting nothing to do with us. She looks up at me and nods.
When we turn the corner into the great room we both freeze. Everyone looks at us, but my eyes go to one spot, and I feel every part of my body come alive.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself.
The man standing against the far wall has his eyes trained on me. They are the greenest I’ve ever seen in my life. His giant arms are folded over his chest, and I know instantly from his stance he’s a guard. He’s built like a tank, with big muscles and a wide chest. His hair is so thick and dark, I know our babies would have hair just like him. Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I had that thought.
As if he can read my mind, a smirk pulls at his full lips.
Someone steps in front of him, blocking my view. I don’t know if I’m thankful for that or not. It’s then I notice it’s Roman. His eyes are focused fully on my sister. He looks almost angry. It’s then I realize it’s because she’s looking where I was looking. At the mystery man with green eyes. I can see jealousy written all over Roman’s face.
“Sweetheart, this is King Roman,” I hear our mother say.
I glance over at her and see she’s got a giant smile on her face. She’s all too happy to pass her daughter off so easily. She doesn’t care if Alena even wants to go. No, not my mother. I stare at her for a moment, and for the first time, I really feel hate for her.
Lost in my reverie, I miss Roman come flying across the room. He grabs Alena, who was tripping over her own shoes. He pulls her towards him, and I watch my sister melt into him as if she’s done it a thousand times.
I glance back to my mystery man, who’s now moved closer. He stares right at me. I feel like he can see though my clothes. His gaze roams over me as if he owns me, as if he has personal knowledge of my body. I’m used to men looking at me, but this feels different. I know he wants me, but it’s more than that. He wants to own me. The thought should piss me off. It’s why I’ve never liked this arranged marriage crap. A man showing up and taking me just isn’t going to happen. But why now, with this stranger, am I feeling a tingling all over my body at the thought?
“Hi,” I hear Al say, and it pulls my eyes reluctantly away from the man.
Her voice is awkward and doesn’t sound anything like her. I can’t help but snort. I know the sound gets her, because she starts to fight a laugh.
“Tabby,” she says, her eyes still locked with Roman’s. I’m a little shocked she’s holding his stare. “I think our plan is working.”
His eyes narrow on her. It takes everything in me not to burst into laughter. I can feel my body shaking, wanting to let the laughter go, but I fight it back.
“You can’t say that out loud. He can hear you,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, but I know everyone can hear me.
I sneak a glance at my green-eyed mystery man, wanting to focus my attention on him again, wanting to make sure those eyes are still on me. Damn, maybe I’m starting to feel that ownership crap, too. Yep, eyes still on me, only this time he’s smiling at me. It makes him not look so deadly. Unlike Alena, I can’t hold a stare, so I look away, feeling my face heat at being caught ogling him. I’m never shy, but something about him makes me feel that way.
“Roman.” My mystery man speaks for the first time. “I think she’s good.” I glance back to Alena, who’s still in King Roman’s arms, feet dangling off the ground. He places her on her feet and takes a step back. I can tell he’s fighting it. He doesn’t want to let her go.
“Tabby?” Roman says my nickname but doesn’t look at me. He won’t look away from his betrothed.
“No, I’m Alena.” My sister corrects him like she thinks it’s an honest mistake. Yeah right, this man knows who she is. If I had to guess, from the way he’s acting he knows everything about her.
“I know who you are, my princess.” He looks over at me, taking his eyes off Alena for the first time since we walked into the room. “Tabitha.” He says my full name this time. Only Alena calls me Tabby. “Can you take my princess to her room to remove these ridiculous shoes before she hurts herself?”
“Hey, she isn’t my servant,” Al snaps at him, and I watch her square her shoulders in a very un-Alena-like way.
“I help Alena with stuff all the time.” I jump in. Maybe if he thinks she needs me, I can go with them when they marry. It would be a fight with my parents because they want to marry me off, too, but Roman is very powerful. Alena frowns at my random comment, clearly not getting it. I can tell this man will do anything to have her, so maybe now I can convince him that I need to go with her. That’s what’s really been bothering us this whole time—the thought of no longer having each other. It’s always been Al and me.
“Then help her remove the layer of what’s painted on her face as well,” Roman adds.
Alena takes a step back from him, and I think she wants to smack him. She isn’t seeing what I’m seeing. I’m guessing he’s seen pictures of her before and he wants that Al. Not this made-up one we created in hopes of scaring him away. I kind of like that.
“Alena. Do as you’re told,” our mother half-whispers, half-scolds. Her scolding tone is no different, even in front of a king. I can’t fight my eye roll.
Roman turns to look at our mother. Her face is scrunched, and I can tell she’s pissed. We’re going to get it later.
“You don’t give her orders. She will be Queen in one week’s time. She doesn’t take orders.” Roman’s voice is stern and final. He just gave her a command, and it will be followed. He earned a few points in my book right there. He stood up for her and put our mother in her place.
“Except from you, I guess,” I hear Alena say, looking down at the floor and taking another step back from Roman. Clearly she’s trying to get space from him.
“All your whispers are too loud. Keep them in your head,” I tell her, a little too loudly myself. Crap, we are terrible at this.
“Alena,” Roman says, drawing our attention. He doesn’t look mad. In fact, he looks like he’s fighting a smile. Yep, we are definitely terrible at this.
“Please.” The word, laced with urgency, comes from his lips, and I can tell it’s not a word he uses often.
Al grabs my hand and pulls me from the room, clearly wanting to escape. I glance back over my shoulder to my mystery man. I don’t know his name, but from the look on his face, I don’t think I will ever escape him.
Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.
They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!
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Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache. 
CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Twice As Hard by Amber Bardan
Coming March 20th
They caught me. Naked, shivering and dripping after a spontaneous swim in the forest.
Two rugged men whose hard gazes captivated and scared me all at once.
They warned me. Told me I was on private property and I needed to obey the law…or I would be punished.
The idea of them both punishing me, pleasuring me, kept tormenting me. I couldn’t want them. I shouldn’t. But I did.
I didn’t mean to trespass again. I thought I could retreat without notice. But they’re coming for me.
To show me the pleasure in pain. To show me just how right forbidden can feel. And to love me twice as hard as I ever fantasized.
Two rugged men whose hard gazes captivated and scared me all at once.
They warned me. Told me I was on private property and I needed to obey the law…or I would be punished.
The idea of them both punishing me, pleasuring me, kept tormenting me. I couldn’t want them. I shouldn’t. But I did.
I didn’t mean to trespass again. I thought I could retreat without notice. But they’re coming for me.
To show me the pleasure in pain. To show me just how right forbidden can feel. And to love me twice as hard as I ever fantasized.
I run up the track. My thighs scream—but I can’t stop yet. Pain blazes from my blistered heels. The ground levels out. My sneakers slide on dirt.
Fuck.
The world disappears, dropping out only yards from where I’m stopped.
I go to my knees, gasping. The urge to vomit rises hard in my throat, yet the sight ahead pierces me almost as sharply as the burning in my lungs. The view from the peak of Hunter Mountain is everything I’ve been led to believe. I press my palms to the earth. Oh god, the air is good.
So damned good.
Fragrant and so clean I’ve only experienced its pale imitation from a bottle. Forest scent. Almost makes this worth it. Almost. I fill my lungs, and my racing heart slows a fraction. I drop onto my heels. Green rolling hills and the kind of quiet I’ve only imagined stretch out before me.
I shut my eyes. In my thirty-one years I’ve never experienced a moment of quiet like this. Where the loudest thing competing for my attention is the sound of me—my breath.
My galloping pulse.
There’s always been a background noise so ever present I never noticed it until this absence. Traffic. Street. People. The whine of electronics a constant hum.
Pity there’s not a moment of peace to be found.
Not now. Not like this. Not on my own.
Why’d he send me here?
Flapping jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up. Broad, dark wings beat overhead.
Holy crap. Is that an actual eagle? The huge bird soars over the ledge to hover above the ravine.
Hunting.
On Hunter Mountain. I drag my backpack off my shoulders, and open it up, fingers slipping into the inside pocket where the letter waits.
I roll onto my backside, and then peel back the seal from one side of the envelope to the other, glue stretching like cheese for a moment before snapping. My thumb pauses in the fold of the paper. I unfold the note a fraction at a time.
Congratulations, Baby, you made it.
Aren’t you glad you did?
Enjoy the view for half an hour. Set your timer, you impatient little thing. Then take the path to left, there’s something there I want you to see.
I scrunch the paper into a ball, and it’s only the abomination of littering in a place like this, that stops me from hurling it in the direction of the eagle.
That’s it?
I’ve come all this way, suffered through so much, for a hike?
Why’d he even bother? I’m not sure if this is him trying to hang on—or refusing to completely let go.
Neither answer is one I’m prepared to dwell on. So I gather together the remnants of my hopefulness and obey my husband, setting my timer exactly as he’s instructed. Then drink from my water bottle and eat an apple to pass time, because he’s right—I’m a very impatient thing.
The beep pings from my phone. With the nonexistent reception here, an alarm is about all the phone’s good for.
I tuck the phone away, slip the backpack on and stand. My legs give a jellied wobble, leaving me with a feeling of walking on bendy stilts. I circle the top of the mountain, then find a track on the left, the one he must’ve meant.
Do Not Enter, the sign reads.
Of course it does. I sigh and take the path, adjusting the straps of the bag and wondering what fresh torture he has in store for me.
One small mercy, walking down is a damn sight easier than running up.
I descend into the trees and the silence bleeds into a more organic quiet, where birds rustle, things move, and then…water rushes.
I pick up pace. Tired or not, I jog down the path toward the sound, then burst into a clearing.
The scent of water hits me.
I stare at the stream plunging over a hanging ledge. My eyes widen as if I could somehow take it in more. A real waterfall.
A heady mix of awe and joy floods me.
Bounced from one L.A. foster home to the next, vacations and sightseeing hadn’t been any part of my upbringing. I’d worked my ass off to get into college, then worked it even harder in my good, safe, secure bank job to pay off student loans—until him.
Until Dean came along and every plan I ever had went up in flames.
But this? Waterfall. Had I mentioned on one of our lazy Sunday mornings after he’d fucked me into exhaustion, how I’d always longed to see one?
My chest squeezes. Maybe this means he forgives me…
I take off the backpack and toss it onto the ground. Then tear off my top, kick off my shoes and peel off my socks. The late spring air has my nipples puckering, but I unhook my bra and let it fall where I stand.
He hasn’t instructed this part, but I can just see him imagining it when he wrote the note. He’d picture me unable to resist skinny dipping in the wilderness.
Had it made him hard when he’d told me to come this way?
I undo the button at my waist and peel off my jeans. My underwear goes next. Then I walk buck naked toward the water.
Of course he’d been hard.
He’d have known I’d do just this. My thighs squeeze. Heat moves through me. I’m naked out in the open without Dean and he can’t do a thing to stop me.
I climb onto a rock.
A laugh springs from my lips. The sound echoes back at me, clear and crisp and startling. It’s been too long since I’ve heard that sound.
I leap into the water.
Freezing cold slams into me. I resurface with a gasp. Oh, shit. The water’s not just cold it’s so icy it has teeth. Still, I do the thing I’ve always, always wanted to do, and swim to the waterfall. Foam and bubbles, and the current seem to force me back. A tremor of danger moves through me. It could be risky to try to swim through the waterfall.
I take a breath and dive underwater. Pressure pounds my back then dissipates. I emerge on the other side, and look up. The water curtains me from the outside world.
Sadly, no cave, but I climb onto the bit of rock ledge and watch for the brief moment before cold and self-preservation force me down.
That’s the thing about fantasy, you never dream these parts—the threat of hypothermia or how a slimy rock feels on your bare ass.
I dive back through the waterfall, and swim toward where I’ve left my things. My skin goes numb. A blanket of goose bumps coats my limbs. I collect my carelessly scattered clothes. Dirt and mossy chunks of forest floor cling to my feet and work up my ankles. My teeth chatter. I bend to retrieve my underwear and jeans.
Sound crunches behind me.
I spin, clothes clutched in my hands. A man stands in front of me, maybe six feet away. My heart seizes.
He stares, gaze raking over me as though he’s never seen a woman. From the looks of him maybe he never has. His beard is rough, dark and speckled with silver, but it’s the jaw underneath—clenched tight as he takes me in, that has my own teeth biting together. He’s built like someone who spends his days felling trees or wrestling grizzlies.
Or both.
My pulse mimics the sound of the waterfall, growing louder in my ears, until I don’t know which roar is which. That whole big body seems poised.
Set to pounce.
“I didn’t know anyone was here.” My voice emerges strangled and rusty.
He says nothing, but his gaze makes its way from where I clutch my things to my chest, then lands on mine.
His features set hungrily, tension thrumming tight through his expression in a way that makes me feel like a buffet that’s being presented at the very brink of starvation.
I can almost feel my heart beat against my forearms through the clothes I hold. Air moves in icy prickles over my naked thighs and between my legs. His attention moves there. To my uncovered cunt, which my bundle of clothes doesn’t hide.
His chest moves quickly, like he’s an animal under the heat of too much sun.
His fingers twitch at his sides. Big fingers. He has big fingers and big hands. Hands that would hold roughly. Fingers that would grab brutally.
And I can’t move. Can’t cover myself. Can’t conceal my most private area.
He takes a step—just one.
I jerk backward and stumble. My clothes tumble to the ground.
He looks at my chest. At my breasts, nipples puckered and strained. There’s a sensation rushing through me that reminds me of the brief period in my teens when I’d get high. A light-headedness that suspends me almost out of body.
He hisses, and comes for me.
A jolt of numbness plunges me back into frozen atrophy.
A blast rings out. Birds spring from trees.
A gunshot.
Fuck.
The world disappears, dropping out only yards from where I’m stopped.
I go to my knees, gasping. The urge to vomit rises hard in my throat, yet the sight ahead pierces me almost as sharply as the burning in my lungs. The view from the peak of Hunter Mountain is everything I’ve been led to believe. I press my palms to the earth. Oh god, the air is good.
So damned good.
Fragrant and so clean I’ve only experienced its pale imitation from a bottle. Forest scent. Almost makes this worth it. Almost. I fill my lungs, and my racing heart slows a fraction. I drop onto my heels. Green rolling hills and the kind of quiet I’ve only imagined stretch out before me.
I shut my eyes. In my thirty-one years I’ve never experienced a moment of quiet like this. Where the loudest thing competing for my attention is the sound of me—my breath.
My galloping pulse.
There’s always been a background noise so ever present I never noticed it until this absence. Traffic. Street. People. The whine of electronics a constant hum.
Pity there’s not a moment of peace to be found.
Not now. Not like this. Not on my own.
Why’d he send me here?
Flapping jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up. Broad, dark wings beat overhead.
Holy crap. Is that an actual eagle? The huge bird soars over the ledge to hover above the ravine.
Hunting.
On Hunter Mountain. I drag my backpack off my shoulders, and open it up, fingers slipping into the inside pocket where the letter waits.
I roll onto my backside, and then peel back the seal from one side of the envelope to the other, glue stretching like cheese for a moment before snapping. My thumb pauses in the fold of the paper. I unfold the note a fraction at a time.
Congratulations, Baby, you made it.
Aren’t you glad you did?
Enjoy the view for half an hour. Set your timer, you impatient little thing. Then take the path to left, there’s something there I want you to see.
I scrunch the paper into a ball, and it’s only the abomination of littering in a place like this, that stops me from hurling it in the direction of the eagle.
That’s it?
I’ve come all this way, suffered through so much, for a hike?
Why’d he even bother? I’m not sure if this is him trying to hang on—or refusing to completely let go.
Neither answer is one I’m prepared to dwell on. So I gather together the remnants of my hopefulness and obey my husband, setting my timer exactly as he’s instructed. Then drink from my water bottle and eat an apple to pass time, because he’s right—I’m a very impatient thing.
The beep pings from my phone. With the nonexistent reception here, an alarm is about all the phone’s good for.
I tuck the phone away, slip the backpack on and stand. My legs give a jellied wobble, leaving me with a feeling of walking on bendy stilts. I circle the top of the mountain, then find a track on the left, the one he must’ve meant.
Do Not Enter, the sign reads.
Of course it does. I sigh and take the path, adjusting the straps of the bag and wondering what fresh torture he has in store for me.
One small mercy, walking down is a damn sight easier than running up.
I descend into the trees and the silence bleeds into a more organic quiet, where birds rustle, things move, and then…water rushes.
I pick up pace. Tired or not, I jog down the path toward the sound, then burst into a clearing.
The scent of water hits me.
I stare at the stream plunging over a hanging ledge. My eyes widen as if I could somehow take it in more. A real waterfall.
A heady mix of awe and joy floods me.
Bounced from one L.A. foster home to the next, vacations and sightseeing hadn’t been any part of my upbringing. I’d worked my ass off to get into college, then worked it even harder in my good, safe, secure bank job to pay off student loans—until him.
Until Dean came along and every plan I ever had went up in flames.
But this? Waterfall. Had I mentioned on one of our lazy Sunday mornings after he’d fucked me into exhaustion, how I’d always longed to see one?
My chest squeezes. Maybe this means he forgives me…
I take off the backpack and toss it onto the ground. Then tear off my top, kick off my shoes and peel off my socks. The late spring air has my nipples puckering, but I unhook my bra and let it fall where I stand.
He hasn’t instructed this part, but I can just see him imagining it when he wrote the note. He’d picture me unable to resist skinny dipping in the wilderness.
Had it made him hard when he’d told me to come this way?
I undo the button at my waist and peel off my jeans. My underwear goes next. Then I walk buck naked toward the water.
Of course he’d been hard.
He’d have known I’d do just this. My thighs squeeze. Heat moves through me. I’m naked out in the open without Dean and he can’t do a thing to stop me.
I climb onto a rock.
A laugh springs from my lips. The sound echoes back at me, clear and crisp and startling. It’s been too long since I’ve heard that sound.
I leap into the water.
Freezing cold slams into me. I resurface with a gasp. Oh, shit. The water’s not just cold it’s so icy it has teeth. Still, I do the thing I’ve always, always wanted to do, and swim to the waterfall. Foam and bubbles, and the current seem to force me back. A tremor of danger moves through me. It could be risky to try to swim through the waterfall.
I take a breath and dive underwater. Pressure pounds my back then dissipates. I emerge on the other side, and look up. The water curtains me from the outside world.
Sadly, no cave, but I climb onto the bit of rock ledge and watch for the brief moment before cold and self-preservation force me down.
That’s the thing about fantasy, you never dream these parts—the threat of hypothermia or how a slimy rock feels on your bare ass.
I dive back through the waterfall, and swim toward where I’ve left my things. My skin goes numb. A blanket of goose bumps coats my limbs. I collect my carelessly scattered clothes. Dirt and mossy chunks of forest floor cling to my feet and work up my ankles. My teeth chatter. I bend to retrieve my underwear and jeans.
Sound crunches behind me.
I spin, clothes clutched in my hands. A man stands in front of me, maybe six feet away. My heart seizes.
He stares, gaze raking over me as though he’s never seen a woman. From the looks of him maybe he never has. His beard is rough, dark and speckled with silver, but it’s the jaw underneath—clenched tight as he takes me in, that has my own teeth biting together. He’s built like someone who spends his days felling trees or wrestling grizzlies.
Or both.
My pulse mimics the sound of the waterfall, growing louder in my ears, until I don’t know which roar is which. That whole big body seems poised.
Set to pounce.
“I didn’t know anyone was here.” My voice emerges strangled and rusty.
He says nothing, but his gaze makes its way from where I clutch my things to my chest, then lands on mine.
His features set hungrily, tension thrumming tight through his expression in a way that makes me feel like a buffet that’s being presented at the very brink of starvation.
I can almost feel my heart beat against my forearms through the clothes I hold. Air moves in icy prickles over my naked thighs and between my legs. His attention moves there. To my uncovered cunt, which my bundle of clothes doesn’t hide.
His chest moves quickly, like he’s an animal under the heat of too much sun.
His fingers twitch at his sides. Big fingers. He has big fingers and big hands. Hands that would hold roughly. Fingers that would grab brutally.
And I can’t move. Can’t cover myself. Can’t conceal my most private area.
He takes a step—just one.
I jerk backward and stumble. My clothes tumble to the ground.
He looks at my chest. At my breasts, nipples puckered and strained. There’s a sensation rushing through me that reminds me of the brief period in my teens when I’d get high. A light-headedness that suspends me almost out of body.
He hisses, and comes for me.
A jolt of numbness plunges me back into frozen atrophy.
A blast rings out. Birds spring from trees.
A gunshot.
She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.
Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.
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