Category : Stories

Sub Category : Romance

“Submit to me!” The duke commands with a sneer as he sit on his bed, which looks more like an over the top throne due to his fancy looking headboard. When I don’t respond his brow furrows in unkept rage. “I will ask you one more time! Submit to me!”

 “No,” I respond, trying to keep the shake out of my voice, “I will not submit to a man who believes killing people is a good thing!” To both of our surprise, I raised my voice in my own anger that rivals his own, something I had never done before.

 “I do not kill people,” the duke starts, “I kill monsters.”

 “You killed my father!”

 “He was a monster!” Before I can stop myself, I storm up to him and raise my hand to slap him across the face. It was a lame attempt as I don’t even have a chance to swing before he grabs my wrist and pulls me close, flipping us so my back is on his soft bed and he is hovering over me.

 “My father is not a monster.” I spit out harshly, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes, not once flinching away like a scullery maid should.

 “Your father killed his wife, the woman he promised to love.” The duke glares down at me, clearly detesting my defiance against him.

 “Impossible, my mother is at home, nursing my brother at this very moment.” The cold look in his dark eyes softens at my words.

 “Think little lamb, you know that not to be true.” I shake my head, forcing my thoughts to remain on my mother and not the way my heart leaps out of my chest as he whispers his nickname for me like it always does. It’s true, my hair is the color of the moon and hers of fire. Her face is set with high cheekbones and mine still has baby fat. She is tall, I am short, her eyes a chocolate brow and mine an amber red. How did I notice none of this before? 

“Even if it is true,” I can no longer keep my voice from trembling as I talk, “and I’m not saying it is. She is my mother by heart, not even you can take that away. Not with a thousand swords.”

“My little lamb, I may indeed be a murderer, but I feel love. I would not dare lay a hand on a woman or a child. You have seen me with my son. Unlike your father, I haven’t once touched him out of anger.” I can’t speak, I know what he says to be true and I’m painfully aware of how close our bodies are.

“My father just wanted respect,” I whisper quietly, trying my best not to focus on the way my body is reacting to him. I lick my lips nervously, noticing as his gaze flickers down and watches me with a hot intensity.

I also don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on my lips before my eyes once more. “And unlike your father, Miss Collins, the person I decide to hold in my arms will always have my love.” The duke lowers himself to me and brushes his nose against mine, “beautiful.” He whispers softly, staring down at me.

“S-sir,” I stutter hesitantly, a blush covering my face, “what are you doing?” I question him, watching as a small smirk grows across his face.

“Something I wanted to do ever since I rescued you that stormy night.” With that, he gently pressed his lips against my own in a heated, yet passionate kiss I won’t soon forget.

“And that kids, is how I knew I was in love with your father.” I look out at our three children who are now in their early twenties with babes of their owns.

“It was that kiss,” my darling husband continues, cupping my chin and turning my head for me to look at me, “is how she tamed a beast.”