The Queens Restraint Novels & Stories

They walked up to the woman. ‘Hello my name is Anna…’ ‘Tucker and these are your associates Dominion and John, Mr. Quinn has been expecting you’ the woman said interrupting Amanda. ‘Ah’ Amanda replies. The woman leads them into the office then leaves. The so called Mr. Quinn is man in his late forties; he is a politician and also the owner and Ceo of Lush Homes. ‘Mr. Quinn’ Amanda says smiling cunningly as she brings out her hand to shake him.

"I don't care who he is. Anyone who disrespects our kingdom will have to pay. For Godsake Dohana, you are bethroded to the Prince of Paris. How will the world look at us if they were to find out about this?" "I am not marrying anybody else but Jake, mother. Release him immediately." "No! You will not marry a nobody, a good for nothing at that?" The Queen Mother got up from her chair upset before striding out. The sounds of faint footsteps startled Jake from his sudden slumber. He used all his strength to drag the heavy chains that bound him on both sides. The dungeon was extremely dark and his feet were soaked with water. Each time he moved his legs, he was reminded of the chilly water that

"I don't want to be queen. I can't. They are going to steal everything from me. My freedom, my privacy, all I have created. I don't want this life. I never asked for this. Please... don't do this to me." The other end was silent for a moment, only long enough to make me think he might not be listening to me. Then he said, in a slow, calm voice, with that same small smile, which I could just feel in the expression of his voice. “You have a good night as a free woman.” Then the line went dead.

Amy stammered, "you must have been deceived!" A collective gasp went through the hall. "Is she crazy?" "She's questioning the King's judgment?" "Does she have a death wish?" But Amy was clearly too terrified to think straight. She pointed at me, her voice trembling but insistent. "This woman can't be the Luna Queen! She's just a reject from our Silver Moon Pack!" Then, to everyone's horror, she cast a fawning look at Ronan. "Your Majesty, you are clearly a powerful Alpha who deserves a true mate. If you require a... more loyal Luna... I would be honored to serve you."

Is he finally giving up on the divorce? I watched his hand grab something, a rectangular-shaped ink pad. My action was too slow before his plan registered in my head. Carter grabbed my wrist hard, yanking me forward. He stretched my arms, placing the paper and ink pad at the table in front of him. “What are you doing?! Let me go, Carter! Let me go!” I struggled to get my hand back. I was behind him, my arm was being squeezed by his arm, while he forced my fingers open.

“Her Majesty says: if the King learns that you are not the real Margaux, she will order the Black Fang to annihilate Alpha Gregor's pack. She will haunt him for the rest of his days. She will have him dragged and hanged in the royal hall. She said she would be merciful and spare you if you obey, but if you speak—” The maid’s lip trembled and she refused to finish the sentence. I didn’t need her to. The Queen’s words — Do not reveal yourself — arced in my mind like a blade. Sugar’s face went transparently white and she swallowed the retort she’d clearly wanted to throw at the woman. Her hands, which had been clamping around the paper moments ago, slid to cup mine, fingers burning with urgency

Walsh goes into action, snapping on latex gloves, though I can barely concentrate as I tense back up, fighting the pain. "Your Majesty," Dr. Bradley pulls on to my wrist, "you must try to relax!" "What is happening?" Dominic asks, sounding choked. "Stress," Dr. Walsh cuts in. "The Queen is under too much. It is imperative that she stay as calm as possible."

The King closes his eyes and exhales. “Not now,” he says, low and tired. “Please. Not now.” The Queen’s fingers tighten around his hand. She lifts her chin a fraction on the pillow, and her eyes burn with a spite that looks too alive for someone so weak. “I have rights,” she snaps. “Even on my death bed. Especially on my death bed. I shouldn’t have to look at him.” Adrian’s face remains blank, controlled to the point of cruelty, not toward her, but toward himself. His scent shifts anyway: iron restraint, old hurt locked behind discipline.

Queen whispered, the threat vibrating in the low frequency of her voice. Fear and a sharp, electric panic flooded Chelsea’s system. She wanted to scream, to pull away, but Queen’s grip was a vice. They stood in a tense, silent tableau of feigned civility while the attendant bagged the groceries. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a charcoal suit—not João, but a man with the stony eyes of a career mercenary—stepped forward to collect the bags. Queen began to move, urgently dragging Chelsea toward the exit. To any observer, it looked like a wealthy woman guiding a distraught younger relative, but to Chelsea, it felt like being led to an execution.

I staggered, then drove my shoulder into his gut, sending us both crashing against the wall. "Stop!" Another voice shouted. We kept fighting, the world narrowing to fists and blood and rage. Then a voice cut through the chaos. "I said enough!" The Queen's voice. It rang through the corridor like a whip crack, sharp and commanding. Ashford and I both froze, breathing hard, bloodied and bruised. The Queen stood at the end of the corridor, flanked by guards, her expression cold and exhausted. "Release them," She said quietly. The guards hesitated, then stepped back.