Six Kneels One Stand Novels & Stories

“Kneel.” The hall slammed into stillness. Nightfell elders buckled to one knee as if the air had pressed on their spines. Redcrest wolves dropped, snarling silently, forced down by the widow-right. Even Garrick—Garrick—went rigid, resisting so hard the tendons in his neck stood out. For two seconds he fought it, jaw clenched, eyes bright with insult. Then he lowered—slowly—to one knee, gaze still locked on Sable like a promise.

Keanu chimed in from his seat, examining his cufflinks with the disinterest of someone who'd been entirely unaffected by the most significant display of power in a century, “it was very dramatic. Ten out of ten. I would kneel, if I could.” “You can't kneel?” Anton looked at him. “Dragon.” Keanu pointed at himself. “I don’t kneel.” Anton stared at him for a long moment. Then looked at me. “I guess I like him.” “Everyone likes me,” Keanu snorted.

The power thrummed through his veins,foreign, yet somehow right. A council member who had remained standing took a step forward,an alpha: strong and defiant. “This is impossible,” the alpha’s voice shook. “No omega has this kind of power.” Eiren looked up at him, and their eyes met. “Kneel,” Eiren commanded again. The alpha’s body resisted. His face flushed with effort, and his muscles tensed. But slowly and inevitably, his knees bent. He fell. And the chamber fell silent.

The ceremony came to an abrupt halt. At least Stellan Caldwell wasn't foolish enough to openly sever our mate bond during a memorial ceremony. He even took the initiative to offer me a ride back to the den, all in the name of preserving an Alpha's dignity. Once on the sleigh, I tactfully shifted toward the far end of the compartment, where thick pelts were laid. I deliberately put some distance between myself and Stellan. The sound of the runners crunching over ice and snow grated harshly on my ears.

I stand, and he drops to his knees. The sight of Knox Voss on his knees in front of me is so disorienting that my brain stalls for a full second because this man does not kneel – kneeling is MY position, kneeling is what he makes ME do, and seeing him on the floor looking up at me with his hands already sliding up the backs of my thighs rearranges something fundamental in my understanding of what’s happening between us.

"You've been asked to stay kneeling. If you disobey, there will be a punishment." 'Is this not a punishment?' thought Karen as she resumed the kneeling position, as they were still pissing on her. "Spread your legs, your ass onto your ankles, back straight and head bowed. Your hands against your back! Right, that's it. When somebody comes to you, you MUST take this position." Karen nodded. She already knew the slaves' basic positions, even if she did not had to get into these positions herself.

“Kneel.” Their coming in caught everybody by surprise. Even the two Leders and their supporters were not expecting something like this. Their scared, ungly faces said it all. Brian stood proudly erect like a mountain, undeterred and unfazed. His hard glare was focused on the traitors as he said one word with all authority. “Kneel” he commanded, and immediately like like people that were forced, sounds of knees crashing on the hard ground echoed. Everybody except Elder Jules and Kyle, but from the looks of things, they were struggling, trying not to Kneel.

Alphas stumbled back, breathing hard, sweat breaking along their brows, eyes wide with disbelief. And then….. One Alpha dropped to his knee again. Voluntarily. Another followed. Then another. The sound of armor hitting stone spread across the courtyard, heavy and final. I stared in horror as leaders, men and women who ruled territories, who commanded thousands……lowered themselves before me. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stop. This isn’t….” Lucian’s voice rang out, sharp as a blade. “Kneel.” And they did. Every Alpha.

He was shirtless, standing in the middle of the room with his muscular back to me. I felt like I was having a panic attack, my nostrils dragging for air like there was limited oxygen. I was silent, waiting for him to say something, anything and when he did, it was an order. "Kneel." He growled, his voice deep like still waters. I didn't even know when I fell to my knees, hands placed on my thighs. I was wearing a big grey t shirt that covered my lacy maroon panties.

However, my eyes are glued to one person. Kell Cross is standing in formation with the other football players. He’s shirtless and wearing simple gray basketball shorts, and his hair is damp as sweat drizzles down his face, neck, and muscled chest. Chest heaving, he leans down with one hand on the ground and the other on his back. His strong legs are positioned for a play. One bent in front, and the other stretched behind his back. As he and his opponent stand face to face, I lick my lips as I watch a drop of sweat glide sensuously down his neck.