The Wrong Bride (Kings of Fury #1) Read Online Gena Showalter

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Funny, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Kings of Fury Series by Gena Showalter
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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“Sleep with you?” Callen almost missed his next step, but quickly recovered. Staring straight ahead, he told me, “Lass, I donna recall offerin’.”

Chapter

Four

Warrior Weddings: How to Stay United When There’s Mutual Mayhem

From A Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

Bright morning sunlight filled the bedroom, illuminating dancing dust motes. Though my head throbbed from imbibing too much champagne last night, I moved from one piece of furniture to the next, on the hunt for Isobel’s phone. For hours, I’d searched drawers, cushions, nooks, and crannies, trying not to imagine where my luggage and purse had ended up. And failing.

Either Isobel had taken over my life, soon to begin teaching my class, or she’d run away for good, and my mother believed I was missing.

A low mewl left me, and I almost broke down. Thora watched from her mound of pillows at the foot of the bed, ready to lunge if I got too close. Which I’d done. Once. Last night. The reason I’d given her the supervillain nickname Lady Thorn.

My thoughts veered to the party. Afterward, Angus had driven Callen and me back to the castle. During the drive, we’d exchanged a grand total of zero words. The trials of the day and a gallon of champagne had gotten the better of me, and I’d nodded off at some point. Callen, or more likely an employee, had carried me to the redhead’s room. I’d awoken exactly as before: alone in a wedding dress and weirded out.

Now that I’d (semi) rested, fed the tiny monster, showered, and donned the most casual clothes in the closet—a loose blouse and too short skirt—I had a clearish head, a fresh swell of determination, and a plan to find Isobel, right her wrongs, and return to my life. But first, I needed that cell.

While I enjoyed mysteries and loved following clues to the priceless prize of revelation, this was ridiculous. The phone must be here. No way she’d taken it with her after purposely shedding her identity to claim mine.

Anger sparked at the reminder, only to die as an idea struck. The white purse! The one she’d carried at the hotel. I rushed into the closet and scanned. There, between two other white bags. After a swift grab and dump, I crouched on the floor to rifle through the contents. A high-end pair of sunglasses. A case for said sunglasses, stuffed with receipts. A sleek tube of lipstick with a polished gold finish. A premium pen with the initials IC stamped on the barrel. Pepper spray, three mini liquors, eight coffee spill sticks, but nothing else. I checked the purse for a side pocket. Yes! A fancy smartphone I couldn’t afford.

Wasting no time, I used my fingerprint to unlock it, then punched in my own number with a shaky finger.

After the fourth ring, a ragged moan spilled over the line. “Did you really need to call me so early?”

Oh, the strangeness of hearing my own voice tinged with a Scottish accent. “What did you do to me?” I didn’t mean to, but I screeched “And what do you mean early? You are five hours ahead of me.”

Another moan. “Must you shout? I’m in the middle of the worst hangover. Apparently, your body isn’t used to drinking as much as mine. Now I’m paying the price.” Accusation spilled from her tone.

“Do you have any idea how expensive alcohol is?” I’d much rather spend my money on a book. Not having to deal with long-term regret was nice too. Something I now comprehended firsthand. Yesterday, I’d kinda sorta flirted with Callen, another woman’s husband. But I wasn’t going to think about that.

“Nothing is expensive when someone else buys it for you,” she chided. “Did you know your home is a hovel?”

My small farmhouse might be old and in need of many, many repairs, but potential infused every corner, and it was mine. “You traded places with me. How? Is it temporary or permanent?” Please be temporary.

She acted as if I hadn’t spoken, saying, “Though I suppose anything is better than living with Callen. He may be rich, titled, and easy on the eyes, but he’s unbearable.”

“How?” I pressed, refusing to give up.

“For starters, he doesn’t ask, he commands. I’m sure you noticed within minutes of your introduction. Also, he⁠—”

“Not Callen!” I bellowed. “Tell me how you traded places with me and if this is permanent.”

“Oh, this is indeed permanent, darling, since I’d have to come back to Scotland to undo it, and I won’t. What’s more, Callen will never suspect the truth. I took measures. He’ll remain in the dark, no matter what you do or say or how you act. And don’t try to threaten me with Thora. As long as you take care of my baby, I’ll take care of yours. Yes, I know all about your love for this ridiculous coin necklace. I’ve read the journal entries in your digital notes.”


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