Novelas y relatos de Queen Amore

The Alpha King? I blinked, forcing myself to focus on Liora. She was pacing now, her black dress swishing with every angry step, her red lips twisted into a scowl. She looked beautiful, even in her rage—fiery, passionate, the way she always was. But right now, it felt like she was a million miles away. “My love,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended, “we’ve talked about this. My father’s decree says I can’t make any other woman queen.”

The one in the center made my stomach tighten instantly, it was Queen Amelia. She didn’t announce herself, she didn’t need to. Power followed her like a second shadow, subtle but suffocating, curling through the chamber and pressing against my skin. Her long silver robes brushed the floor without a sound, and the black crown woven into her dark hair caught the torchlight like shattered glass. Damon shifted slightly beside me. I didn’t look at him, but I felt the subtle tightening of his stance, the way his wolf went alert under his skin. Protective and suspicious.

But instead, I whispered, “You put a microphone in a diamond?” “You’re welcome.” I barely had time to fume before someone stepped in front of me. A proud looking lady. She wore a wine-red gown that clung to her curves, pearls strung along her throat, and a wide knowing smile. “Ah. So you’re her,” she said, sipping from her glass lazily. “Excuse me?” I blinked. “You’re the woman who owns Aetherion now. Thorne’s wife. The new ‘Queen.’” Queen? I like the sound of that, but why does this woman look like she wants to murder me.

Amira let out a soft sigh, tilting her head as if she were some goddess being worshiped. “You poor women,” she drawled lazily. “So desperate to be kept, yet so afraid to demand. Tell me… when was the last time you swiped your husband’s card without asking?” They looked at each other, guilty, embarrassed but none gave an answer. Amira smirked into the cradle. “Exactly. You play lovers and prisoners at the same time. Me?” She arched slightly under the masseuse’s hands, her bare thighs catching the light. “I play Queen. And queens don’t ask permission.”

Then she smiled beatifically and responded, “Very well, Your Majesty. And… you?” “Oh, too well, if you ask me. Must be something in the air,” she winked at the maid, who nodded as her smile increased even more, enveloping her oval face. “Where is he, Miss…?” “Amelia, my Queen. I am Amelia Armstrong. The Alpha just recently gave me this job. He is currently at the pack house,” she responded. “Alright then. Carry on, Amelia. I will catch you later.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” the maid responded as Athena headed outside, where her men were waiting for her.

“This is who you really are. Don’t let Liam cage you. You were never meant to be monogamous. You were meant to be worshipped.” I cried the entire drive home. When Liam returned the next evening, I greeted him with a bright smile and a home-cooked meal. I let him make love to me that night with all the passion I could fake. But inside, the poison had spread. The Queen wasn’t just awake anymore. She was planning her return. To be continued…

Kiana watches her, a small smile resting on her lips. There is something comforting about this. The movement. The voices. The certainty that everything is coming together. “Do you like it?” the Queen asks suddenly, turning back to her. Kiana blinks, then looks down at herself. At the fabric. At the details. At the care woven into every thread. “Yes,” she says softly. Then, with more certainty, “I love it.” The Queen’s expression softens. “Good,” she says. “It should be worthy of you.”

“Perhaps the Queen is only trying to protect her from punishment. Queen Isadora is known for her kindness toward the lower wolf ranks.” Ethan smirked as if he thought this was some kind of joke. “My Queen, I understand that you have a soft spot for omegas and treat them as your own children. But Aaira doesn’t deserve your kindness. She is a troublesome woman who deserves to be punished for her crimes.” My gut twisted. Even now, despite my mother’s declaration, his narcissistic mind refused to accept that I was indeed the Queen’s daughter. “The only crime she committed was marrying a conceited man like you,” my mother snarled.

It has been several months after Marquis of Kain’s wedding reception. Tom was looking out the window of the private study of young queen Arabella, the monarch of Niapachad Island. She was married to the prince consort, Aiden as they were sitting at the divan in front of the fireplace as the fire crackled. “So, what did you want me to do for summoning me here?” Tom said as he was sipping on the tea that was being served hot to them. The queen was arching her eyebrow as she was putting down her tea to look at Tom. She smiled at him.

Then, he asked her, “May I ask how old are you?” “I just turned sixteen the other week,” Clarissa responded. “Belated happy birthday then! You are simply perfect. You are the one I have been looking for – a precious gem and a gorgeous model. And someday, you will be our future beauty queen,” Bamby expressed himself happily. “But, why me?” Clarissa sought an explanation. “Why? Well, sweetheart, has somebody told you that you looked like that former Spanish Miss Universe, Ampara Muñoz?” Bamby said.