The Toy King: Toy Runners, #2

By Adriana Herrera

Only the naughty list gets these toys…

Valente Correa lives for one thing—leading the Toy Run. He takes his duties as a Magi delivering toys for the House of Correa very seriously. But when he's tasked with transporting his brother's future bride through the Andes, he doesn't expect the walking, talking temptation that is Kessina Macias. When a snowstorm strands them together for two nights, Val can't resist what the luscious, smart-mouthed firebrand offers—even if it means betraying his brother, his father, and his house.

Kessina Macias only wants one thing: independence. After a sheltered life in the mountains with her overprotective father, she yearns for some breathing room. Agreeing to marry a son from the House of Correa isn't ideal, but it will get her out from under her father's watchful eye. The problem? The brother she agreed to marry is not the one she desires. Two scorching nights of passion with the broody, brawny Toy Runner change everything. And if she can convince him they're a perfect match, she might get the best gift of all—Val himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adriana Herrera Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223999256

Adriana Herrera

Adriana Herrera was born and raised in the Caribbean, but for the last 15 years has let her job (and her spouse) take her all over the world. She loves writing stories about people who look and sound like her people, getting unapologetic happy endings. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Val

"You want me to what? Papa, please tell me you’re joking. I practically yell at the floating circle reflecting my father’s face, my voice echoing in the empty hallway of the House of Macias, the famed toymakers of the Andes and the last stop in my trek to procure gifts for this year’s Toy Run. You are kidding, right?" I ask my father as calmly as I can while every ounce of blood in my body rushes to my head at once. This cannot be fucking happening. My father cannot be calling me as I am scrambling to load the last of the cargo, to ask I literally bring back a human woman for my brother.

Don’t sass me. Sin verguenza, my father answers, unamused. He’s in his study. I can see the Caribbean Sea in the window behind his desk.

Then don’t ask me to do crazy shit, I mumble, trying to absorb what he’s just asked me to do.

Watch your mouth, Valente. You’ll never be too old to get it washed out with soap.

Papa, how do you expect me to react when you call me up and say, ‘surprise, you need to bring back a virgin bride for Balthazar?’ I am here to procure toys for the Toy Run, not act as a matchmaker for that vago. My father scowls at my not-so-kind words about my brother, but I am not fucking joking. Leave it to my useless older sibling to expect to get a wife delivered to him like she’s a pepperoni pizza. I haven’t even met her. Is she okay with this? Am I abducting her or something?

My father gets all red in the face and shakes his head, so I at least know I’m not expected to bridenap this girl.

"Of course she’s okay with it. From what Braulio said, she asked him to arrange it. She’s been waiting for your brother, but you know he likes to stay close to home during this time."

More like he’s a fucking parasite who refuses to do anything involving work, including, it seems, coming to meet the woman he’s supposed to marry. This poor girl has no idea what she’s getting into.

Papa, are you sure this is a good idea? Balthazar is not exactly husband material. Runners are bred to worship their mates. From childhood, it’s ingrained in us that any Runner worth anything will treasure their helpmeet until they draw their last breath. Besides our duty to The Run, our devotion to our mate is our highest calling in life. Balthazar is the most selfish asshole I know, so I don’t see how he’s going to manage that.

"Will you marry her, then, Valente?"

Uh, fuck no.

My father’s tone is not one that indicates he’s in a mood to play, so I keep my pithy response to myself. But apparently, he’s a mind reader.

I didn’t think so. The bottom line is, I need one of my sons to give me grandchildren or else the Correa line will die. Besides, there is a long tradition of Toy Makers and Toy Runners making alliances through marriage. This is important for the future of both our houses.

It’s true that there’ve been many Toy Runner and Toy Maker marriages. It is a way of cementing relationships. Of keeping the traditions alive. And if my brother, who has never done a damn thing for our family, wants to take one for the team for once, I could help with this. I was nothing if not dutiful.

The good of the House of Correa above else.

Fine, I mutter, and my father heaves a relieved sigh. Does he need me to do a video call with her or something? I ask, knowing the answer before my father speaks.

You know how he is—he only pays attention to things when they are unavoidable. I do know that and feel sorrier by the second for this poor woman about to get saddled with him.

All right. I might as well accept I’ve lost this battle and get on with my day. We are loading the cargo right now. I planned the departure this afternoon, so we can be at the coast in two days. We will be out of the mountains soon.

Thank you, son. I knew I could count on you. The glow of satisfaction those words usually incite doesn’t warm me this time. I feel burdened by this. It’s one thing to run interference for my brother’s fuck-ups, but now there’s an innocent involved. Because no way she knows what Balthazar is like.

Valente. Braulio Macias’s—the patriarch of the House of Macias—voice resounds through the hallway as I end the call with my father. Don Braulio, as he usually does when we stop here, has provided respite to my crew and me at his compound. Or more like castle—not sure what else one can call a place with twenty bedrooms and turrets. I never accept his offer to stay in his house, preferring to camp with my crew on the grounds. Which is probably why I’ve never seen this daughter of his in the three years I’ve made the trip to the Andes.

It hasn’t been that long since I’ve taken over the run for my father. And though the patriarch of the House of Macias has always been good to my crew and me, I can’t help side-eyeing the man now that I know he’s just handing off his kid to a fucking stranger. Not that I’m going to run my mouth. Runners do not disrespect an elder, and Don Braulio can definitely throw hands. I can hold my own when it comes to size and brawn, but the guy is a fucking giant. Looks like an Inca warrior and a Viking had a baby. Which is actually pretty accurate, his mother being Norwegian and his father from the mountains of Peru. His straight, silver hair reaches his waist, and his brown face doesn’t have a single wrinkle even though he has to be pushing sixty-five, like my own dad.

Sir, I say as respectfully as I can, given that I want to punch this dude in the face. And then get on the sky camel and head home so I can do the same to my dad and my deadbeat brother because what the fuck?

I take it your father told you about the arrangement.

My molars are in serious danger of getting demolished.

It would’ve been nice if I was told about it before this was decided, I grouse, and he grins like I told him he looks great in the brown leather tunic he’s wearing. Which, to be fair, the fit is just right.

If your father would’ve told you, you wouldn’t have come. And I will not hand over my daughter to anyone who isn’t from the family.

You’re still basically just giving her away to a stranger, though. He pulls a face, and I glare. Maybe that was not super respectful, but this shit needs to be said.

"I am not giving her away. She is interested in a betrothal, and not having your brother here is not exactly my preference either."

Yeah, no shit.

How do you know I won’t do something bad to her? How do you know Balthazar won’t hurt her? I sure as hell can’t vouch for my brother.

That comment wipes the smile right off the man’s face.

For one, I know everything about you. Including that you are the only one of your brothers who carries on the Toy Runner tradition, which tells me you should be able to handle escorting my daughter to her betrothal. Second, your family is one of the few working to preserve the legacy of the Runners. He spreads his hands in front on him like that last part speaks for itself. Only a true family of The Run deserves to have one of my girls as their new daughter. Don Braulio certainly thinks highly of himself. I wonder if his kid has the same vibe. This just keeps getting better and better.

Though I would’ve preferred to see you marry my Kessina, any of the Correa boys will do. Then his expression turns deadly. Like he could murder me right where I stand. And if any of you hurt even a hair on her head, I will put you in the ground with my own hands. He gives me that bit of news with a huge grin that does not reach his eyes, and I believe every word.

I’m still mulling on that little nugget of information when he claps me on the shoulders and points to the end of the hallway. Yeah, because this whole fiasco is going down as I am scrambling to leave so I can do my fucking job, which is not Toy Maker bride delivery.

Kessina is expecting you. Don Braulio’s deep voice snatches me from my brooding, and when I look up at him, he looks sad. This day is extremely weird. I wish my wife were here to do this with me, but I know she would approve of a union with your house. Both Don Braulio and my father lost their wives when their youngest were still babies. My mother died only a few months after I was born. As far as my family goes, I always wonder how different things would be if she’d lived, and I can’t help but think Kessina’s mom would’ve liked a better man for her daughter than Balthazar.

Don Braulio, is your daughter really in agreement with this? I ask, ready to fight if I see any hesitation. She shouldn’t be forced into something she doesn’t want to do.

I’ve been around my own father’s bullshit long enough to know what that dipped eyebrow and pursed mouth means.

Don Braulio, I push, and the guy actually blushes. This man is close to seven feet tall. I’m like six-five, and he’s giving me a size complex just from standing next to him. So blushing is a surprise, and yeah, he looks guilty as fuck.

Kessina is very strong-willed. Okaaaay. And the suitors she’s had just could not keep up. I had all but given up on finding her a helpmeet, but she came to me asking to try again, and I know a boy from the Correa line is just what she needs. Someone strong. Someone who can appreciate the fire in her.

This is just fucking great. I’m gonna have to deal with my brother’s temperamental mail-order bride while I try to fly down a mountain range.

As long as she’s okay with it, I say, not feeling good about any of this. How the hell did my quick trip to the Andes to get some toys turn into this shit show?

She will be, he sounds confident as hell about it too. I think I have chosen wisely for her. Uh yeah, my dirtbag brother is a real fucking prize. I struggle to not roll my eyes. By the time you arrive at the coast, you’ll see what I mean. He smiles all smartass like and I purse my mouth. This is going to be a fucking disaster. She’s waiting for you. He points to the end of the hallway again. There is a staircase that goes up to Kessina’s rooms. She’s requested a private moment before she boards the sky camel.

Probably to kill me, and I can’t even hold it against her. I’m