The Rebel Queen: The Rebel Queen Duet, #2

By Jeana E. Mann

An arranged marriage leads to conflict between an American Princess and her royal husband.

Each night, he locks the bedroom door, determined to teach me a new lesson. Obedience, patience, trust. I lie awake in bed waiting for the sound of his footsteps and the latest installment in pleasure and pain. My heart pounds when the hinges creak and his broad shoulders block the door. I'm not ready, but I can't wait to feel his hands on me. He shoves his bowtie into my mouth, binds my hands to the headboard, and whispers in my ear… "Shall we begin?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeana E. Mann
• Release date: Dec 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781943938353

Jeana E. Mann

Jeana Mann is the author of sizzling hot contemporary romance. Her debut release Intoxicated was a First Place Winner of the Cleveland Rocks Romance Contest, a finalist in the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Awards, and fourth place winner in the International Digital Awards. She is a member of Romance Writers’ of America (RWA). Jeana was born and raised in Indiana where she lives today with her two crazy rat terriers Mildred and Mabel. She graduated from Indiana University with a degree in Speech and Hearing, something totally unrelated to writing. When she’s not busy dreaming up steamy romance novels, she loves to travel anywhere and everywhere. Over the years she climbed the ruins of Chichen Iza in Mexico, snorkeled along the shores of Hawaii, sailed around Jamaica, ate gelato on the steps of the Pantheon in Rome, and explored the ancient city of Pompeii. More important than the places she’s been are the people she has met along the way. Be sure to connect with Jeana on Facebook or follow along on Twitter for the latest news regarding her upcoming releases. LINKS Website Facebook Twitter Goodreads Published by Ishkadiddle Publishing Copyright 2014. Jeana E. Mann Author. Cover by SelfPubBookCovers.com/Lori Edited by Rhonda Helms E BOOK ISBN:  978-0-9897714-2-9 This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [e-mail] All characters and events in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, alive or deceased, is purely coincidental.  

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2

HENRY

The way Everly shivers is the most seductive thing I’ve ever experienced. Power surges through me. She’s naked and vulnerable, everything I’ve dreamed of in a partner. The pain and confusion in her eyes overcome my lust for control. Tenderness squeezes my heart. No. With a jerk, I pull back, away from the hypnotic scent of her hair and the heat of her body. Feelings are unacceptable. This is a business partnership. She’s here to secure my crown, warm my bed, and give me an heir. Nothing more.

Don’t move. To gain perspective, I leave her in the middle of the room and take a seat on the bed. My newest acquisition is an unbelievable prize. Her legs are long and toned, breasts full and round, nipples pink. She tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. The lines of her body are amazing, but her eyes are what capture me. They’re blazing blue, like the hottest part of a flame, and filled with turbulence. A war wages inside her, one I’ve created.

We might be married, but no one owns me.

That remains to be seen. The rebellious jut of her chin stirs primitive urges inside me—the need to conquer, the desire to mate, the obligation to protect. Are we going to have a problem?

No. No problem. The only thing standing between her and a bullet in her brain is the force of my country’s army, and she knows it. As long as you don’t hurt me.

You agreed to this, remember? My protection in return for your hand in marriage. Anger flares in her cheeks. She’s trembling. I can’t blame her. Trust will take time to build between us.

I haven’t forgotten.

Come here. I motion for her to walk toward me. She hesitates, glancing down at the floor before taking two tentative steps in my direction. My cock stiffens at the bounce of her breasts, the gentle sway of her hips. I can’t wait to have her beneath me, writhing and moaning my name, begging me for release. Because she will beg, and she’ll thank me for it afterward.

She faces me bravely. More than her beautiful body, I admire her spirit. She’s been through hell over the past few days. Some people might say I’m a hero, riding in with my white Learjet to save her, but I need her as much as she needs me. She’s my ticket to the throne.

Are you done? Her voice is soft, throaty. She straightens her shoulders. The tip of her tongue glides over her lips. She starts to cross her arms over her breasts. I shake my head, and she drops her hands to her sides.

Not yet. A blush warms her skin. Your body is amazing, Everly. It’s important for her to know how much I appreciate her beauty. The men in her life have ripped her self-confidence to shreds. I intend to build her back up, but first, I’m going to have to strip her down to bare bones.

Thank you. I guess. The sullen pout of her mouth is enough to make my heart skip a beat.

Turn around. I twirl my finger. Take your time. Her eyebrows lift, but she spins in a small circle. When her back is to me, I tell her to stop. Bend over.

Seriously?

Just do it.

Fine. After an exasperated exhale, she spreads her feet for better balance on her high heels and bends at the waist, skimming her hands down her thighs. The wavy locks of her hair brush the floor.

Damn. Her bottom is rounded, alabaster, and begging for my touch. I’m so hard, my balls feel like they’re going to burst. Tonight, however, is about setting boundaries and defining the rules of our marital relationship. Once the master plan has been introduced, I intend to give her pleasure in a way she’s never known. My desires will have to wait. This is about her.

Very nice. I’ve practiced this speech a dozen times in my head, but I have no idea how she’ll react. I must have her complicity. She has to want this. Stand up. Face me. A second groan of exasperation escapes her. Patience. We’ll get to the fucking in a minute.

Just so you know, patience has never been one of my virtues. Her breasts rise and fall with each frustrated breath. Locks of red hair tumble in wild disarray around her shoulders.

We’ll work on that.

I don’t understand the point of all this.

I’m not a sadist or a dominant. Not in the true sense of the words. For me, it’s much more than that. I have no desire to manage all aspects of your life. You’ll be free to do as you please, as long as it serves the crown and our subjects. It isn’t the submission that gets me off. It’s the challenge of bending her will to meet mine, of conquering her defiance. This is more of a give-and-take play of power. You give. I take. When you obey, I’ll reward you.

That was never part of the bargain. Sparks of annoyance glitter in her doe eyes. Obstinance sharpens the jut of her chin. I thought this was a partnership.

I shake my head in warning when she crosses her arms across her chest, hiding her bare breasts. Don’t cover yourself. I like looking at you. She doesn’t comply, and it makes my blood sing. And for the record, this is a monarchy. I’m in charge. You’re my subject.

I think we’re going to have a problem. You see, I’m not the kind of girl to take orders.

Oh, but I think you are. The color in her cheeks deepens, this time from anger instead of embarrassment. And that’s exactly what I want to see. I want her to fight me every inch of the way. The pressure builds in my erection until I have to adjust myself. She’s going to rebel until the bitter end, and I’m going to love every minute of it. I point to the floor in front of me. On your knees.

I won’t cower down to you.

I’m the king. You have no choice. My pulse quickens as adrenalin floods my veins. This is what I crave. Rebellion. According to the pilot, you’ve got about eight hours until we touch down.

"You just said that I always have a choice, and this—this was never part of our deal. Her nostrils flare and the blue in her irises turns from pastel to the color of steel. You made it sound so perfect. ‘Come to Androvia with me. Think of it as a vacation. You’ll love it.’ She does a damn good imitation of my British accent. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. And now you’re going back on your word." She snatches her dress from the floor and steps into it. With short, jerky motions, she pulls the dress over her shoulders and struggles to zip the back.

Where do you think you’re going? We’re 30,000 feet in the air. Despite my warning, her hand grips the handle. There’s nowhere for you to go. Nowhere to hide. Everyone on the plane works for me. They won’t help you.

The edges of her teeth bite into the luscious fullness of her lower lip. She taps a toe on the floor, like she’s struggling to rein in her emotions. I’m so close to pushing her over the edge—so close. Once that’s done, we can begin. She paces across the bedroom to the wall and back again before stopping in front of me and placing a hand on her hip. We had a deal.

And we still do. You’ve kept your part beautifully, I might add. Now that we’re married, we need to hammer out the details. I drop the belt and rest my hands on the mattress, forcing myself to relax. Every time she talks back to me, my erection grows harder. It tents the front of my silk boxers. Do you want out? I can tell you right now, it’s not going to happen. You signed the marriage contract. You took the vows. There is no backing out.

My words are the perfect catalyst to her temper. Her lips turn white. She points a shaking finger at me. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to.

That’s the point, Everly. You need to want this as much as I do. You need to accept our situation so we can move forward.

No. Her defiance is beautiful and perfect. The lamps emphasize the hollows and swells of her body, the curves of her cheekbones, and the rebellious jut of her chin. She’s much more than I expected in the best ways.

Let’s go over your options. You could go back to your sad Manhattan apartment, but your father wants you dead, so that’s probably not wise. Your mother has disowned you, so she’s no help. The paparazzi are hot for your blood. What am I forgetting? I tap a finger on my lips, pretending to think. "Oh, yes. Rourke is too busy with her warlord husband to deal with your latest choice of poor judgement. And Christian—well, he’s no threat. That leaves—hmm—no one else. No one but me."

Her attention flits to the door again. I’m not a toy. This is my life. You act like I should just get over everything that’s happened to me in the last forty-eight hours.

This isn’t a game to me. It’s my life, too. Do as I say, or I’ll have the jet land in Heathrow, and I’ll leave you there. For a fraction of a second, hope flickers in her eyes. I’m sure your father would be happy to pick you up. The hope extinguishes, drowned by defeat.

You wouldn’t dare.

Try me. My tone is deadly. It’s the tone I use when dealing with insubordinate subjects and unsavory characters like her father.

Reality settles over her. The transformation is evident. Her shoulders slump. When she speaks, her voice is soft but steady. You said I could get out of the marriage at the end of one year if I wanted to. Did you lie about that, too?

Not exactly. If you feel the same way next year, I’m willing to revisit a divorce. But you should know that I take my marriage vows seriously. All of them. The thought of spending the rest of my life with a single woman is more terrifying than I care to admit. I intend to be faithful and committed, and I expect the same from you. I also expect you to fulfill your obligations in and out of the bedroom.

Tears pool in her eyes. It wrecks me to see her sadness, but it’s a necessity if she’s going to make the transition from broken outcast to powerful queen. Her voice lowers to a whisper. Why are you doing this? Why me?

When my feet hit Androvian soil tomorrow, I need a wife on my arm. If my parents had their way, I’d be bound to a heartless bitch that I can’t stand. One who would never have the strength of character to rule a country. You’re perfect for the job. You’re full of life and fire. You have poise and grace. And let’s not forget that neither of us wants a romantic entanglement.

Her hand falls from the door. I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to see the futility of her objections. She’s as intelligent as she is gorgeous. Her cold feet are understandable. I’m willing to do whatever necessary to save my life, but I won’t be your whore. I won’t be a submissive.

I don’t want a whore. I want a wife who challenges me. I want you to fight for your freedom. It’s as real as I’ve ever been with any woman. The females of my past have been unable to handle my mind games. Hopefully, she hears the sincerity in my tone and chooses to embrace the challenge. Fight for what you want, Everly. I’m offering you an amazing opportunity. Take it.

She turns her gaze toward the ceiling and closes her eyes, like her patience has been pushed to the limit. I keep quiet, allowing her to work through everything we’ve discussed without interruption. The jet engines hum quietly in the background. After a few minutes, she speaks with confidence. I won’t let you hurt me.

Never. The very thought of bringing harm to her makes my stomach turn. Think of it as an intensive boot camp. I want to help you become the powerful, confident woman you were born to be—through sex.

Through pursed lips, she blows out a heavy sigh. What do I have to do?

Good girl. My heart beats faster knowing that I’ve won this tiny battle. Judging by the firm line of her lips, the war is far from over, and I’m thrilled to see it. On your hands and knees. Crawl to me.

Just to be clear, I’m not giving in. I’m playing along because I have no choice. Excitement flares in her expression. She might have doubts, but she’s intrigued by my proposition. I want a new safe word.

You don’t need one tonight. She doesn’t understand the rules yet, but she will.

No safe word. No deal. Her eyebrows lift in defiance.

Fine. What is it? I pretend to be annoyed, but inside, I’m pleased at her insistence. She’s going to be a quick study.

Divorce.

Laughter bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it. Okay. If that’s your choice, I can work with it. I clear my throat. Our first lesson will be obedience, because you obviously need some work in that area. We’ll tackle trust next time.

You can’t teach someone to trust you. It isn’t learned. It’s earned.

And I intend to earn every bit of yours. After a few moments of introspection, my declaration seems to satisfy her. Slowly, she crouches to the floor. On hands and knees, she crawls over the plush white carpet. Defiance plays in her eyes. Her movements are graceful and slinky. She’s so damn spectacular I can hardly contain myself. When she reaches my feet, I spread my knees and motion for her to come closer. Take out my cock, I command. And show me how grateful you are for my protection.

3

EVERLY

Once the plane lands, the wedding ring on my left hand tightens around my finger. The plain gold band symbolizes fidelity and love, but to me it represents the end of my existence, the death of my freedom. I do. Those two little words sealed my fate. The old Everly is gone, and in her place is the hollow shell of someone I no longer recognize.

Henry places his hand on the small of my back, urging me out of the jet and down the stairs. Just as quickly, he drops his hand to his side. Black sunglasses shield his thoughts from me. I ignore the thrill of sexual attraction at his touch and the dull ache it conjures between my legs. My new marriage has no room for emotion, a fact he had made crystal clear over and over again as he fucked me last night. He hasn’t spoken to me at all since breakfast. Not even a glance in my direction. I don’t know why it bothers me. We’re not in love. We’re not even friends, and I like it. It’s easier this way. My heart has suffered enough disappointment to last a lifetime.

Everly, are you coming? I flinch at the sound of his voice near my ear. The initial surprise at his proximity changes into a flutter of desire deep in my belly. He debased me, degraded me, made me do things I never dreamed possible, yet I crave more. More punishment. More sex. More him.

Yes. Cold air blows my hair across my face, blinding me. I brush it aside then clutch the fluttering edges of my sweater. Henry descends to the tarmac, a spring in his step. His energy pisses me off. After a night of fucking, he spent the rest of the flight on his laptop, fingers clicking on the keyboard, and still manages to look refreshed. I did my best to rest, but I’ve always been a light sleeper, especially inflight. It’s so unfair that he comes out of a sleepless night looking like that—all golden and god-like—while I’m wrinkled with bags beneath my eyes.

Hurry up. We don’t have all day. A tinge of impatience underscores his command.

His patronizing tone irritates my frazzled nerves, but I’ll ignore it until I’ve regained mental clarity. My mind is hazy from lack of sleep, made worse by the time change, altitude, and the way he played with my head last night. Open your mouth. I want to come on your tongue. His vulgar requests echo in my memories. Now, thank me for fucking your pussy. And I did. I thanked him and begged him for more because I’m weak and attracted to him and too confused to make sense of us. The worst part? I loved every minute of it.

Once I’m on solid pavement, I take inventory of my new surroundings. Two black limousines and a flashy yellow Bugatti are parked in front of us. Craggy snowcapped mountains, majestic and aloof, hover in the distance beneath a cloudless blue sky.

Madam, you left this on the plane. One of the flight attendants nudges my purse into my hands.

Thank you. I give him a shaky smile. Heaven knows what he thinks of me with my wild auburn hair whipping in the wind and a hickey on my neck. He probably heard my pleas for Henry last night. Make me come. I need to come. Please, please, please. My face heats at the recollection. I turn an incinerating glance onto my husband. This is his fault.

My pleasure, madam. The man tips his hat, avoiding my eyes, and opens the car door for Henry. Will there be anything else, Your Majesty? The formal address reminds me that my husband is more than just a broad-shouldered hunk, he’s now the supreme leader of a European country.

No. That’s all. The icy wind ruffles Henry’s hair, but on him, the tousled locks are sexy and daring. On me? Not so much. My reflection in the car window shows a mop of tangles around my shoulders. I struggle to keep the airborne strands from sticking to my lip gloss.

My luggage? I glance around for my bags. The rest of my things are being packed up by Henry’s team and shipped. We left Manhattan in a panic. I only brought what I could throw into two suitcases. Those few things are all I have left of the old me.

The staff will follow with our belongings, Henry says. Let’s go.

A uniformed chauffeur opens the passenger door of the Bugatti. Henry slides behind the driver’s seat, revving the engine. The car suits him; they’re both sleek and powerful with a hint of danger. The interior smells new. Soft leather chills the backs of my bare legs as I try to gracefully enter the low car without flashing my panties to the crew. My husband gawks at my bare thighs. Heat flashes into my face followed by a quick memory of his face buried between my legs. I’m instantly wet. I tug the hem down to my knees, hating the way my body reacts to his attention. I don’t want to be attracted to him. I want to feel nothing, to remain numb, because numb is safe.

It’s about two hours to the palace, Henry says, flicking his gaze back to gauges on the dashboard.

Okay. Awkward silence fills the car. I’d say more, but I’m too busy clutching the armrest as the tires squeal and the car springs forward. I wince at the clench of overused muscles. Henry rode me for hours. On all fours. Bent over the foot of the bed. On the floor. Against the wall. Withholding my climax until it pleased him to concede. Never tiring, driving into me until I whimpered with frustration and need. And I’d gloried in every depraved minute of it. I crawled on my hands and knees to suck his cock. Opened my legs for him. Followed his commands like a sex-starved whore. In return, he rewarded me with praise and multiple orgasms that left me