Summary:
Love sometimes comes in threes.
With his mother plotting to have him wed, Niall decides to sneak out of the fae palace and fulfill one of his greatest fantasies. At the Unconventional bar, he finds a pair of lion shifters looking to spice up their love life. Unable to resist the strong attraction between them, Niall lets the persuasive pair take him home.
Jovan and Luka have been searching for their third for years. When Niall stumbles into the bar, their shifter instincts tell them the innocent fae could be their long sought mate. After a sensual night together, they’re certain the beautiful man was fated to be theirs.
His guards fetch him from the shifters’ bed and Niall is taken away from the pair. Upset about Niall’s return to the palace and a possible arranged marriage, the lion shifters battle to decide their future—should they go and fetch their mate or let it only be the one-night stand Niall promised them?
Publisher's Note: This book was previously published as part of the Unconventional in San Diego anthology by Pride Publishing.
“Do you think he’ll cooperate?”
Niall stopped. He pressed his body flat against the wall at the sound of his uncle’s voice. He’d planned to go clubbing, confident everyone had already left for the night. Normally by this time they were all off at social events or, as Niall privately called them, ‘sucking up to the queen parties’.
Crap.
“He’ll do what I want. It’s time for him to marry. I’ve even made a list for him to choose from.” His mother’s tone pierced icy shards of disdain through his skin.
“What if he doesn’t like your choices?” his uncle persisted, ever the sly voice of innuendo and scandal. There were weasel shifters less sneaky than Niall’s Uncle Virnen, and none as mean.
“Then I’ll persuade him.” They laughed together, two partners pleased to crush others in their pursuit of common goals.
Niall’s stomach gurgled and swirled in protest as he pulled his magic around him. The hair on his arms and neck rose, reacting to both the dangerous situation and his escapist magic. He raced past the doorway, breath held and nerves clenched to the edge of pain. A single drop of sweat slid down his hairline and worked a straight path down his nose. He twitched.
Fuck.
The rumble of voices concocting evil plans followed him down the hall. He didn’t need to hear any more. He’d known his days were numbered. Mother had planned Niall’s life since she’d first strategized how he should learn to walk. She also choreographed his whippings when she thought he’d twitched a pinky out of line.
Now they’d come up with a way to hold him in the painful, steel bear trap of marriage. Before he could say no, they’d have him shackled and bound. He had no futile belief they’d truly give him any say about anything. They might present him with the illusion of a choice, but reality wouldn’t match the pretty fiction they created to get him to go along.
Tonight he would take control. For once he’d stop letting others run his life and do something for himself. Tomorrow they’d drag him back to his broken life but tonight was his. He’d be caught and punished, but they’d whip him even if he did nothing. His mother’s guards relished the taste of his pain and the marks on his body. More than one had licked at him while he dangled from magic draining manacles, dripping out his life force.
His own guards had broken him out of his last captivity and more than a few of his mother’s guards had met with an unhappy accident.
Burying his past horrors deep, Niall swiped a set of keys from the rack in the garage. The red convertible suited his mood tonight.
Although the queen’s guards saw him leave the estate, no one moved to intervene. His mother must not have sent out word to keep him confined. For once, his luck ran true.
Niall lowered the convertible’s hood. The breeze whipped around him, ruffling his hair and granting him an unprecedented wave of freedom.
What if I just keep driving?
Niall stopped. He pressed his body flat against the wall at the sound of his uncle’s voice. He’d planned to go clubbing, confident everyone had already left for the night. Normally by this time they were all off at social events or, as Niall privately called them, ‘sucking up to the queen parties’.
Crap.
“He’ll do what I want. It’s time for him to marry. I’ve even made a list for him to choose from.” His mother’s tone pierced icy shards of disdain through his skin.
“What if he doesn’t like your choices?” his uncle persisted, ever the sly voice of innuendo and scandal. There were weasel shifters less sneaky than Niall’s Uncle Virnen, and none as mean.
“Then I’ll persuade him.” They laughed together, two partners pleased to crush others in their pursuit of common goals.
Niall’s stomach gurgled and swirled in protest as he pulled his magic around him. The hair on his arms and neck rose, reacting to both the dangerous situation and his escapist magic. He raced past the doorway, breath held and nerves clenched to the edge of pain. A single drop of sweat slid down his hairline and worked a straight path down his nose. He twitched.
Fuck.
The rumble of voices concocting evil plans followed him down the hall. He didn’t need to hear any more. He’d known his days were numbered. Mother had planned Niall’s life since she’d first strategized how he should learn to walk. She also choreographed his whippings when she thought he’d twitched a pinky out of line.
Now they’d come up with a way to hold him in the painful, steel bear trap of marriage. Before he could say no, they’d have him shackled and bound. He had no futile belief they’d truly give him any say about anything. They might present him with the illusion of a choice, but reality wouldn’t match the pretty fiction they created to get him to go along.
Tonight he would take control. For once he’d stop letting others run his life and do something for himself. Tomorrow they’d drag him back to his broken life but tonight was his. He’d be caught and punished, but they’d whip him even if he did nothing. His mother’s guards relished the taste of his pain and the marks on his body. More than one had licked at him while he dangled from magic draining manacles, dripping out his life force.
His own guards had broken him out of his last captivity and more than a few of his mother’s guards had met with an unhappy accident.
Burying his past horrors deep, Niall swiped a set of keys from the rack in the garage. The red convertible suited his mood tonight.
Although the queen’s guards saw him leave the estate, no one moved to intervene. His mother must not have sent out word to keep him confined. For once, his luck ran true.
Niall lowered the convertible’s hood. The breeze whipped around him, ruffling his hair and granting him an unprecedented wave of freedom.
What if I just keep driving?
Author Bio:Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.
When she told her husband what she wanted to do with her life he told her to go have fun.
During those seconds she isn't writing she remembers she has children who humor her with games of 'what if' and let her drag them to foreign lands to gather inspiration. Her youngest confided in her that he wants to write because he longs for a website and an author name—two things apparently necessary to be a proper writer.
Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.
She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres..
She also writes under the name Mikela Q. Chase.
SMASHWORDS / EXTASY / AMAZON
EMAIL: amberkellwrites@gmail.com
KOBO / iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY
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