Cover

Note To Readers

Note To Readers

This book is intended for readers 18+ who enjoy dark and explicit themes. Reader discretion is advised. For detailed content warning information, please click here.

ARIES

BOOK ONE

PROLOGUE

Crushing grief. It’s all I know. All I feel. The ache slithers through my soul, weighing down my bones and slicing me into a distorted version of the girl I used to know. Now there’s just an apparition, a pale-faced creature whose flaxen braids belie a mature age of twelve. I hold my breath, afraid to breathe—as if the simple act of inhaling and exhaling will make this tragic reality real.

Each second crawls by in slow motion until my lungs burn for air. I suck in a soundless breath as movement surrounds me.

My uncle’s feet hitting the floor in lazy, unhurried steps.

The burden of a stranger’s gaze.

The dread that taints the air.

“You must be Novalee,” says the stranger with the unfamiliar shiny black shoes.

I don’t react to the statement, and Uncle Rowan’s brows slash into fierce lines of disproval. “Please excuse my niece’s reticent behavior. I’m afraid she hasn’t been herself since the plane crash.”

“It’s quite understandable. Such a sudden tragedy.”

They talk about me as if I’m not here. As if my shattered heart isn’t bleeding all over the rug my mother loved when she was alive. I focus on the pattern underneath the pillow that cushions my knees, following the kaleidoscope of browns and royal blues as I smooth my sweaty palms down the front of the dress Rowan made me wear.

White for purity, I heard him mutter when he thought I wasn’t listening.

He wanted me to look pretty for our guest, and even though I don’t understand why I’m required to kneel in this stranger’s presence, I don’t mind because it means I can pretend he’s not really here. I can be invisible like the heroines in my favorite fantasy books, cloaked by magic and imagination.

“Shall we get down to business?” asks the man standing next to my uncle. I give him a quick once-over. He’s tall and broad, and I’m fascinated with the way his coppery hair catches the sunlight spilling through the arched windows in the sitting room. I’ve never seen such a color on a man before.

“Of course.” My uncle gestures toward the archway leading into the study where my father spent most of his evenings. “Right this way, if you will.”

They leave me on my knees, and I hear him ask the man with the copper hair if he would like a drink. For the next several minutes, the clinking of glasses and low voices filter into the sitting room through the ajar door, and I catch words that make my stomach sour with dread.

Words like virginity and auction and marriage. I fist my hands against my thighs, wishing I could roam the grounds with the birds and butterflies, but I don’t dare move from my designated spot on my dead mother’s prized rug.

Rowan is a strict enforcer, and I don’t want to experience the stinging bite of his leather belt like Faye did yesterday for disobeying an order. Faye is my age and a daughter of a servant, but she’s always been like a sister to me. We grew up together inside these walls, playing hide-and-seek in the countless rooms and halls. Before my parents’ plane went down last week, we had free rein of the mansion and the surrounding grounds.

Until Uncle Rowan arrived and changed everything.

My parents have only been gone a week, both graves heavy and fragrant with fresh soil and sorrowful bouquets, but my uncle leaped into taking charge of our lands before the sun sank below the horizon on the day of the wake. I’m the daughter of a king, and now that my parents are gone, I’m the queen of a nation. A powerless child queen, because as my guardian, Rowan holds all the power.

“Why in God’s name are you kneeling?” someone asks from behind me, his insolent male tone disturbing my misery. “You’re not in the presence of the chancellor, princess.”

I tilt my head and catch a hint of wild blond hair in my periphery. “My uncle told me to kneel.”

“Do you always do what you’re told?”

My brows pull together. “Don’t you?”

“Much to my father’s aggravation, no. But your obedience is admirable.”

“Obedience was important to my parents.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be a perfect little wife someday.”

The disdain in his voice piques my interest, and I pivot on my knees to face him. His gaze meets mine, shooting a strange flutter of awareness through my chest. He appears to be in his teens, and just as I suspected, his dark blond hair surrounds his face in chaos, flopping over his forehead and threatening to hide his eyes.

And those sea-blue eyes are the reason for the sudden lack of air in my lungs. There’s something about his stare that sends me into a trance. He circles me, footsteps slow and deliberate, and it reminds me of the way a lion preys on a prospective meal.

“Don’t you want to get married someday?” I ask him, still wondering about his odd tone when he mentioned marriage.

His full lips slope into a frown. “What do you know about marriage? You’re just a child.” He gestures at my chest. “You don’t even have a real set of tits yet.”

Mortification heats my cheeks. “What an inappropriate thing to say!”

“The truth is rarely appropriate, princess.”

“I’ll kindly remind you I’m a queen, and you’ll address me as such.”

His snicker crawls down my spine with dark intent. “A queen on her knees. How…appropriate.”

“Just go away,” I snap, hating the petulance in my tone but helpless to mask it. He makes me want to grind my teeth, especially since I can’t confront his rudeness with both feet planted firmly under me.

“Leave the sweet girl alone, Sebastian.”

I startle at the presence of another boy. He halts in front of me, having come in from the gardens, same as the boy he called Sebastian. Through the open door, a breeze carries in the music of songbirds and the sweet aroma of plumeria, and once again, I wish to escape outside into the humid heat.

“I don’t take orders from you,” my tormentor fires back with that same irritated attitude I detected a few minutes ago.

“Someday, you will.” The boy’s coppery hair gives away his parentage, as does the authority in his tone. He seems older than his rude friend with the aqua gaze that makes my body warm and tingly in strange ways.

I avert my attention to the rug, assuming the older boy is the son of the man talking to my uncle in the other room.

Someone of great importance.

A leader.

Of course, I’ve heard whispers about the island up north where a group of powerful men reign in a circular tower twelve stories above the ground floor. I don’t know the reason for their visit, but their presence scares me.

One by one, the sitting room fills with the opposite sex, ages ranging from early teens to adulthood. They surround me, eyes alight with curiosity.

“So this is her?” a dark-haired teenager asks.

“I expected her to be younger,” someone else says.

Laughter flits through the room, the deep gruff too mature to belong to a boy. “And I expected her to be older.” I catch the emerald gaze of the boy…man…who laughed at my age. He must be a decade older than me.

And now I’m fidgeting, twirling two tiny blond braids around my finger as I try not to squirm under their stares.

“By the time the queen turns eighteen,” the boy with the copper hair says, “the age difference won’t matter.” He closes the distance between us and covers my hand, putting a stop to my nervous braid-twirling. Returning my hands to my lap, I nibble my bottom lip as he pets the top of my head.

“What happens when I turn eighteen?”

He takes me by the chin, fingers warm and gentle. “Upon your eighteenth birthday, my queen, you’ll belong to us.”

1

PRESENT-DAY, MARCH 21ST

The road is smooth under the wheels of the limousine, unhindered by bumps or potholes. Not that I’d know much about either. I’ve been surrounded by the absolute best from the moment I came out of the womb. Artisan furniture made of quality wood and fine leather. Enough jewelry to match every hue of nail polish in existence. Collections of the latest couture—a wardrobe large enough to need its own wing.

It took several chests to contain even a tenth of my clothing. Uncle Rowan said he’d send the rest at a later date. In the meantime, he promised a shopping spree with my ladies after we settle on Zodiac Island. Maybe if I weren’t visiting the small nation in metaphorical chains, the prospect of new clothing and jewels would excite me.

“It’s so beautiful,” Elise says, awe dripping from her tone as we pull between the iron gates of the estate that houses all twelve members of the Brotherhood. Eyes widening with excitement, she pushes her wispy blond bangs to the side to get a better look.

The castle-like structure sits atop a hillside. Arched mullion windows line the floors in neat, perfect rows, charming those who gaze upon the estate. It really is a gorgeous place, down to the ivory stonework. I can’t help but turn away from the sight with a sickness in the pit of my gut.

“It looks like a prison,” Faye gripes, her fuchsia-hued lips forming a scowl. Her words echo my thoughts.

Elise glances my way, rose coloring her cheeks, baby blues deepening with an apology. “I’m sorry. That was an insensitive thing to say.”

“Don’t apologize for appreciating beautiful architecture.” I cross my right ankle over my left. “All we can do is make the best of the situation.”

“It’s so unfair,” Faye complains in a harsh whisper. “You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

None of us should.

Though she didn’t say the words, they flit through my mind anyway. It’s what she meant, but as one of my ladies, she’s been trained to put me first, to push aside her personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions in favor of my wants and needs.

Elise is ecstatic at the prospect of landing a husband on Zodiac Island. But Faye is here against her wishes, as am I. She was forced to leave the love of her life with the expectation that she marry above her station—an opportunity not gifted to many servants.

As we roll down the long driveway, trees rustle in the breeze on either side in blankets of grass. The lawns are lush and green from the abundant rain for which Zodiac Island is famous. Just behind the towering estate and past the cliffs, I spy the ocean. That endless stretch of water is the only thing that brightens this reality for me.

I’ve never lived so close to the sea. On the drive over from the Brotherhood’s private airstrip, I spotted the most beautiful beaches, the waters a deep cobalt with miles of uncluttered sand inviting one to search for sand dollars and seashells.

Uncle Rowan promised I’d have some freedom on this God-forsaken chunk of rock—the chance to roam and explore. In theory, it’s an alluring idea, but I can’t stop the niggle of dread chasing me. The closer I come to meeting the chancellor, whom I’ll spend the next month with, the more my belly roils with nervous energy. No amount of adventurous discovery on new soil will make this forced marriage worth it. Not considering the rumors about the Brotherhood that have run rampant on a global level.

Political corruption.

Sex scandals.

And the thing that worries me most—the gross negligence of women’s rights.

As we come to a stop at the main entrance, I can’t deny the fear gripping me. Palms clammy, I try to draw in a deep breath but fail.

Faye grasps my fingers and squeezes. “Just breathe. We’re right here with you.”

I’ve known about this inevitable day for six years. Six long years of my uncle drilling it into my brain at every turn, trying to prepare me so it would be easier to accept.

It’s not, and I’m far from prepared.

We roll to a stop and the engine shuts off. The resulting quiet is as unsettling as my thoughts. Doors open and close, and seconds later, Rowan swings mine open. I glare at him through the hot tears flooding my eyes. Oh, how I despise those drops of weakness as they slip past my armor.

His stature is immovable, as is his will. “Dry your eyes, child.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re right. You’re a grown lady, and it’s time you stop the theatrics and behave like the queen I trained you to be.”

“Don’t make me do this.” I bite my lip to keep from adding a whiny “please” at the end of that sentence. Despite what my uncle might think of me, I’m not this pathetic.

Not usually.

What I am is desperate…which is pathetic in its own right.

“It was done six years ago, Novalee.”

“Undo it.”

“That isn’t an option.”

The urge to run is strong. Craning my neck, I study my surroundings from the back seat of the vehicle. The grounds seem endless from this vantage point, but even if I hide amongst the trees long enough to evade, where will I go? I’m on foreign soil, the terrain unfamiliar, and finding a stranger willing—or stupid enough—to go against the Brotherhood by helping me will be next to impossible.

And it’s not like I haven’t tried running before.

“Don’t try it, child,” Rowan warns in a dark tone. “Running will only delay the inevitable and leave you unable to sit.” Gripping me by the arm, he drags me from the luxurious vehicle before letting the door slam shut with the kind of finality that inspires teeth-grinding.

I’m angry and indignant and desperate to stop the tears from escaping down my cheeks. What an utter fool I was in thinking I could get through this without falling apart. I’ve straddled the line of a nervous breakdown since I turned eighteen two months ago when my uncle and his men thwarted my last escape attempt. No amount of begging had saved me from a brutal session with Rowan’s whip, and it won’t save me from what he claims is my duty.

And he’s gone above and beyond over the years to make sure this day happens, going so far as to drive away anyone who might be an ally. Kitchen staff, servants, even Angeles, the old man who used to tend the gardens and was like a grandfather to me.

All of them, gone.

Save for my ladies, I’m alone in this. Faye and Elise exit the limo and flank me on either side, and the three of us stand as a united front. Their presence is a comfort, but I still can’t help but wish the ground would open and let the soil bury me.

Panic is just a few breaths away.

I’ve never been touched by a boy, and the thought of being at the mercy of twelve experienced men is horrifying. My only saving grace is the terms of the contract, which prohibits them from taking my virtue until the night of the wedding.

With a displeased frown, Rowan hands me a handkerchief. “You are minutes away from meeting Chancellor Castle. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

I yank his offering from his hand and dab at my wet eyes. “This is wrong. My parents wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

“Your parents aren’t here.”

“Why are you doing this? Is it the money?”

“My dear, innocent Novalee. The money is a bonus, but while you’re locked away here, serving the Brotherhood, you’ll be out of sight and out of mind. Someone has to rule our lands.”

After all the times I’ve pleaded for an answer, I’m shocked to get one now, and it’s confirmation of what I suspected to be true. Uncle Rowan wants my title, and with me gone, he has a better chance of securing the permanent transfer of power. Twelve months is a long time to be absent, especially amid such political uncertainty.

“Come,” he says, taking me by the arm as a young woman appears from the iron doors of the estate, dressed in full maid uniform. “The chancellor awaits.” He urges me forward, and the metaphorical chains that bind me tighten to an intolerable level.

This is happening.

My ladies can’t protect me from it.

My uncle refuses to stop it.

And the only two people who would have done anything to ensure my happiness—even if it meant moving the stars and planets—died six years ago.

As the maid ushers us into my prison for the next twelve months and beyond, I have no choice but to let destiny drag me into the den.

2

For a prison, the Zodiac Estate is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The grand foyer is open, light, and airy, and smack in the middle stands a white stone staircase. To my right, a waterfall cascades down a rocky wall.

“Wow,” Elise breathes, and I can’t help but share in her awe.

I tilt my head and squint from the bright rays pouring through the circular skylight which spans the foyer and second-floor atrium. The stained glass is sectioned into twelve slices—one representing each sign of the zodiac, from the ram to the fishes. It’s beautiful and immaculate and…

“It’s cold,” Faye says, plucking the word from my mind.

Gooseflesh erupts on my skin, and I’m not sure if it’s from the chilly breeze spilling into the foyer with our arrival, or the thought of what waits for me behind closed doors. Just past the wall of bubbling water, I spot an archway leading into what looks like an industrial-sized kitchen. The maid ushers us in the opposite direction, through a door on the left and down a long hallway, and we enter a library. My eyes widen at the sheer massiveness of the bookshelves—rows upon rows of spines showing a varied and eclectic collection.

A man rises from behind a desk, the wood heavy and dark with an edge of masculinity, and Uncle Rowan steps forward. “Chancellor, I’m honored to present my niece, Novalee Van Buren.”

The chancellor nods at me in greeting. “Welcome to Zodiac Island. You may call me Liam.”

Dipping my head in acknowledgment, I study him from beneath my lashes. His coppery hair niggles at a memory, digging at the layers of time until I recall the younger version of the man standing before me.

At age twelve, I didn’t quite grasp the devastating sexiness of Liam Castle, but now it hits me full-on, and I feel his hot-blooded gaze in every nerve ending.

“Do you remember me, Novalee?”

“I remember you.”

“You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.” His attention heats my skin under the white skirt and sweater Uncle Rowan insisted I wear.

“Thank you.”

He gestures toward his maid. “Selma, escort the queen’s ladies to their quarters to freshen up. Dinner begins at six.”

I cast an anxious glance at Faye and Elise. I want them at my side, a buffer between this imposing man and me. “I’d rather they stay.”

“You’ll be reunited soon enough.” His tone is decisive. Final. An authoritative nod of his beautiful head sends the maid into motion, and she escorts my ladies through the library door. An unsettling disquiet descends until Liam gestures toward a group of suede leather chairs. “Shall we sit?”

That’s when I spot a manila envelope sitting on a table. Undoubtedly, it’s the contract my uncle signed a week after my parents’ plane went down, promising my hand in marriage to the Zodiac Brotherhood.

Rowan places a palm at the small of my back, urging me forward. After we settle into the chairs—my uncle and I facing the chancellor—Liam removes several pieces of paper from the envelope and lays one on the table between us. The scrawl of Rowan’s signature ignites a deep ache in my gut. That ink is a reminder of all I lost.

I swallow hard. Not even six years can erase the reality of my parents’ deaths or the gaping hole their absence created in my life.

Liam removes a pen from the pocket of his expensive charcoal suit and hands it to Rowan. “As you discussed with my father six years ago, by signing, you declare Novalee has remained a virgin.”

I hold my breath as my uncle’s hand hovers over the line at the bottom. One flick of his wrist and a little ink, and life as I know it will change forever. That ink will be the start of the end.

Fighting tears, I watch my uncle scrawl his name across the bottom. He sets the pen down carefully, paying small homage to the significance of this moment and the destruction ricocheting through my heart.

“Excellent,” Liam says as he stands. “Before you take your leave, I need a show of good faith from Novalee.”

I’m trying not to wither under the chancellor’s scrutinous stare when my uncle asks the only question in my head.

“What do you have in mind?”

Liam’s light brown eyes refuse to waver from mine. “A sexual favor as a show of her commitment to the contract. Her virginity will remain intact, of course.”

I jump to my feet. “I will do no such thing!” It’s a gut-instinct reaction—an absurd one if I take into account what will be expected of me in the next twelve months.

“You’ll do it because I demand it.” Liam’s brow arches in challenge.

My uncle stands, shooting me a look of warning. “Remember your place, dear niece.”

“My place?” I cross my arms, incredulous, and glare at both of them. “And what exactly is my place?”

“That would be on your knees,” Liam says, taking a step closer.

“Why? Because you’re the chancellor?” I challenge in a scathing tone, knowing full well my mouth will get me into serious trouble with this man if I’m not careful.

“No, my queen. My reasons are a matter of logistics.”

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!