The Defiant Queen

by L.R. Jackson

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

When love and loyalty collide, truth alone can reunite two long-lost loves in this royal second-chance romance.

Royal advisor Baas never stopped loving the woman he was forced to send away. When Shaya unexpectedly returns, he sees his chance at happiness—but winning back her trust proves more challenging than any task he’s faced.

Though Shaya’s heart still yearns for her first love, a devastating secret from her past threatens their reunion. As an enemy plots to expose her, Shaya must decide if protecting herself is worth losing Baas again. With palace schemes and old wounds standing between them, can they build a future together? Or will their second chance at love crumble like their first?

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

Chapter One

Baas

Mafachiko, Africa

I’m deep in thought as I sit in the garden, enjoying a cool, breezy night. It’s quiet except for crickets chirping and the water gushing from the waterfall. The moon shines brightly, offering enough light to sip my whiskey without spilling it. I glance at my watch; it’s after ten, meaning Nala should be asleep by now, and I can finally go to bed. It sounds weird, I know, waiting for my wife to fall asleep before I join her. But it’s what’s best. For me, anyway. If she’s already sleeping, I can ignore the awkward silence. I can ignore the expectation of conversing with her. I can ignore her desire to have sex. And most of all, I can ignore the look of rejection on her face when I tell her I’m too tired to touch her.

I place the empty glass beside me and stand, shoving my hands into my pockets as I look up at the sky and think about Shaya. I wonder if she thinks about me as much as I think about her. I shake away that thought. Of course, she thinks about me. There’s no way that she couldn’t. Because what we had was . . . I pause before the word enters my mind. Special. What we had was special. But as special as it was, I had a duty to the king and my country.

I take the trail back to the palace and climb the steps slowly. When I reach my bedroom door, I take a deep breath before entering. I expect her to be asleep when I walk in, but she isn’t. She’s reading a book. She lowers it when she hears the door close. “You missed dinner again.”

I sit on the bench in front of the bed and remove my shoes. “Yeah, I had to work late.”

She sets the book down on the nightstand. “You’re always working late. I feel like we never see each other.”

I loosen my tie. “We’ve talked about this, Nala. Repeatedly.”

She climbs off the bed and folds her arms across her chest when she’s in front of me. “I know. I just . . .” She pauses for a second. “Baas, I’m trying here.”

I remove my glasses and the rest of my clothing before I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and then answer her. “Nala, nothing’s changed for me.”

She follows me closely as I walk toward the bathroom. “Is this what the rest of my life will be like?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m your wife; yet you treat me like I’m—”

“Like, you’re what? A woman I was forced to marry?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it, though? This is what you asked for. You wanted to be a part of the royal family, and now you are. You wanted the jewelry, the money, and the social status. You got what you wanted, and you should be happy.”

“You think treating me like this makes me happy?”

I spin around with irritation. “What do you want from me, Nala?”

“What I want is for you to talk to me sometime. How’s that, for starters? I want you to stop looking at me like you hate me. I want you to spend some time with me.”

“I sleep beside you every night; that’s more time than I spend with anybody.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Can you at least make love to me sometimes?”

“We made love last week.”

“That wasn’t making love, Baas. That was an emotionless fuck.”

I stop in my tracks. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it? Because if I recall, you had multiple orgasms.”

She blushes. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“Yes, the sex is great. But I want intimacy. I want you to want me. For example, last night, I hinted that I was horny, but you rolled over and ignored me.”

My patience is thinning, and I’m tired of hearing her rant. I close the gap between us, breathing so hard that I feel like I will burst. Her eyes widen before I smash my lips against hers, completely surprising her. I pull them away and spin her around, lifting her tiny nightgown up and around her waist. I push her gently toward the wall, and when she places her hands against it, I yank the towel from my waist and toss it behind me. I nudge her legs apart with my foot, and my hand settles between them, finding that she’s already wet. “Is this why you’re upset? Because you’re horny?” She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she closes her eyes and drops her head back. I place my finger on her clit. “Is this what you want?”

She bites her lip and moans when I stroke it. “Hmmm. Yes, Baas.”

I continue to stroke her. And when I kiss her neck, her moans grow louder. She squirms beneath my hand until she finally cries out with ecstasy. When she stills, I enter her quickly, eager to release and get this over with. She whimpers with pleasure as I drive into her, long and deep. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“Want to come again?”

“Yes, please.”

She screams as I fuck her harder and screams even louder when she tells me she’s close. Her body immediately goes slack when she comes, and I’m able to stroke two more times before I grunt and spill inside her. We stay in position for a second before I pull myself out and take a step back. We’re silent as she shoves her nightgown down, and I turn on the shower. My back is toward her while I check the water temperature.

“Want some company?” she asks.

I turn around to face her. “I’d rather shower alone if you don’t mind.”

She looks hurt but brushes it off. “Of course.”

When she leaves the bathroom, I step inside the shower and inhale the steam. I want to yell, but I don’t want to alarm her. So, I bang my fist against the shower wall instead, hoping it alleviates some of my frustration. The last thing I want to do is hurt Nala. I may not love her, but she’s still my wife, and I have a duty to her. We agreed before we were married. We agreed that we weren’t marrying each other for love. We were marrying for peace between our countries. She knew I could never love her because my heart was with someone else. She said that she understood. She said we were both doing what was best for our countries, and she didn’t expect us to act like an average married couple. But she didn’t keep up with her end of the bargain. She’s demanding that I give her more than I can, expecting me to do things I don’t want to do with her. I don’t care about spending any time with her. I don’t care to confide in her.

I have three duties to my wife: to protect her, provide for her, and respect her. And I’m doing all three. She has no idea how often I want to reach out to Shaya. She has no idea how frequently I talk myself out of flying to New York and leaving her and this life behind. Because if she knew, she wouldn’t be so quick to complain. I’m holding up my end of the deal. I’m doing everything that a husband should do except for loving her. And that’s something that will never happen.

After I shower, I shut off the water and open the shower door. Nala stands in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

I nod before I grab a fresh towel and step out. I walk around her and go to the nightstand to retrieve my glasses. I reply to her after I shove them on. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“No, it’s not okay. I know we agreed that there wouldn’t be anything between us. I just didn’t expect . . .” Shit, I know where she’s going with this, but I remain quiet. “I didn’t expect to feel so lonely, Baas.”

“You’re not the only one who feels lonely.”

“So, let’s stop being lonely then. Let’s be true partners. Don’t you care for me even a little bit?”

She’s asking questions I don’t want to answer. Because answering them will make me look like a jerk. I tried everything I could to avoid making her think this was anything more than it was. I’ve remained distant. Unemotional. I limit how intimate we are. And none of it has worked. Nala may have initially agreed to this arrangement, but it was only a matter of time before she wanted more. I don’t want what she wants. And I won’t lie to her. I have and will continue to be honest about where I stand.

“Yes, I care about you, but not in the sense that you’d like. Nala, you’re my wife, and I’m doing my best to honor my duties as your husband. But I will never love you.”

She walks closer to me. “You don’t know that. Can you at least try?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“You’re being foolish, Baas. She’s gone, and you need to forget about her. What’s the point in loving someone you can never be with? We’re married until one of us leaves this earth. Why not at least try to be happy until that day comes?”

She’s right. Nala and I can never get divorced. And although my best friend is a king who has the power to change this law, I would never ask him to do it. Because if he does and I divorce her, we will make enemies we don’t want to make. I’ve made my bed. Now, I must lie in it. But that doesn’t mean I will be happy while doing it. If Shaya and I had never met, I would do my best to make a happy life with Nala. I would try my hardest to get to know her, hoping to fall in love with her. But I did meet Shaya. And after meeting her, my life was never the same. I am not the same. She made me question things I never had to question. She made me see life differently. She made me feel. She’s the first woman I ever loved and probably the only woman I’ll ever love. But I fucked up things between us and ruined our chances of ever being together. Nala stares at me curiously, wondering what I’m thinking about.

“I’m sorry, Nala. But it will always be her.”

Chapter Two

Shaya

New York

I plop down on the couch with my glass of wine and take a big gulp. Today was a hectic day. I woke up this morning in what felt like 200-degree weather because the air conditioner stopped working overnight. When I got into my car to go to work, it wouldn’t start. So, I called a cab at the last minute and got stuck with a driver who drove as if my life didn’t matter. Then when I got to the clinic, two people called, unable to work, leaving us short-staffed and me overworked. I grab my phone and dial the one person who will understand.

“Hey, Eb.”

“Hey, you sound tired; long night?”

“More like a long day,” I reply.

She laughs. “I bet you’re drinking wine right now.”

“Yup. And I’ll probably drink the entire bottle.”

She sighs. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Eb.”

“You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

I don’t answer her because I haven’t decided yet.

“Shaya!”

“Eb, you know I want to come.” I struggle to find the rest of the words for my sentence.

“You can’t avoid him forever. You’re my best friend, and he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“I know,” I reply.

“Listen, I don’t know what the two of you discussed that day at the hospital. Whatever it was, it made you hide the truth from him. But don’t you think now may be the right time to tell him? Face-to-face.”

She’s referring to the day she gave birth. Baas and Dafari arrived as soon as they could, and while Dafari gushed over his son, Baas led me outside the hospital room to talk. My thoughts drift back to that day.



“I’ve been calling you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Shaya, don’t do this. Don’t sabotage us.”

“That’s just it, Baas. There is no us. You’re marrying someone else.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Yes, you do. You made that clear.”

“No. I made my duty clear. But it’s not what I want to do.”

“Let’s not complicate this. Go home. Fulfill your duty and forget about me.”

“Forget about you? How could you say such a thing?”

“Because it needs to be said.”

He closed the gap between us, breathing evenly. “Shaya, how could I ever forget about you? You’re everything to me. But . . .” I anxiously wait for him to finish his sentence. “I will leave you be if that’s what you want. Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me what we had didn’t mean anything to you, and I will walk away and forget about you forever.”



My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Ebony’s voice. “Shaya, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. He doesn’t need to know, Eb. I did what I had to do. End of story.”

She exhales loudly. “Okay. I beg to differ, but I’ll leave it alone if you think it’s for the best.”

Grief paralyzes me as her words remind me of that terrible day. It was the worst day of my life and will forever haunt me. I respond to her initial question. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

“Great. Dafari will send the plane for you.”

“Okay. But do not send Baas with him.”

“I won’t.”

A moment of silence passes between us. “How’s he doing anyway?”

“He’s hanging in there, I guess.”

I want to ask more, but I change the subject instead. “How’s my godson?”

“Spoiled as shit.” Her answer makes me laugh loudly. “Seriously, Shaya, he gets everything he wants. I don’t even think he knows what the word ‘no’ means.”

I smile with happiness for my best friend. She has everything she’s ever deserved. A great career as a counselor. A husband who adores her. And the cutest son I’ve ever seen. “I can’t wait to see him.”

I hear Dafari say something in the background, and she giggles. “I gotta go, Shaya, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

We end the call, and I lie back on the couch. Tension settles in at the thought of seeing Baas after all this time. What will I say when I see him? How will I feel? Will chemistry still be there? I shake my head and realize it doesn’t matter because he’s married. He made his choice—and it wasn’t me.

I guess I can share some of the blame. I recklessly hooked up with him, not thinking of the consequences. It was supposed to just be sex—pure fun with no strings attached. But I don’t think either of us knew what would hit us. Neither of us expected to fall for the other. Especially me. I had just gotten out of a long relationship. The hurt from Jay’s betrayal was still fresh. Yet, somehow, Baas managed to show me that it was possible for me to love again. But then he snatched away that love and gave it to someone else, and I was hurt for a second time. He tried calling me, but there was nothing left for me to say. He had his life in Africa. I had my life in New York. And neither of our lives involved the other.

A tear escapes me as I think about what I did. Maybe I should have told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved on so quickly and forgotten about the love that we shared. I shake my head. No. Like I told Eb, I did what was best. I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand and take another sip of my wine. I won’t cry over him. It’s over, and I need to come to grips with the fact that we’ll never be together. I’ll fly to Africa to see Ebony and my godson. I’ll be cordial to Baas and his wife, and then I’ll return home and continue living my life. I’ll forget about our time together. I’ll forget about the choice I was forced to make. I’ll eventually move on, get married, and have kids one day. It sounds good in my head. But even as I think about it, I’m not sure it’s a plan I can stick to.



Mara rushes into the exam room and shuts the door. “So?”

“So what?”

“Have you swiped right yet?” she asks.

I shake my head as I laugh at her statement. “I haven’t swiped at all.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Shaya, I spent all that time helping you set up a dating profile, and you haven’t even used it?”

“I didn’t want to sign up in the first place, remember?”

It was liquid courage that made me do it. My coworkers and I went out for drinks after work one night. Two margaritas later, Mara and I are crying on each other’s shoulders about how we’ve had our hearts broken. The outcome was that both of us joined a dating app. Since then, she’s been on three dates, and I’ve been on zero.

“Shaya, you have to get out there at some point.”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply.

She checks her watch. “Shit, I’ve got a wounded puppy coming in a few minutes. We’ll talk about this later.”

She leaves the room, and I pull out the sanitizer to start my cleaning. I place it on the counter and shake my head at the brand they’re using. It’s not as effective as the brand I used at my clinic, but I guess it’ll have to do. When I returned to New York, I needed to stay busy to keep my mind off Baas. So, I worked as a senior vet at one of the animal clinics near my new condo. I was only supposed to work here until I had the time to open my own veterinary clinic, but once I started working, I fell in love with how they treat the animals here. Plus, I get to do what I love without the stress of the business side. I no longer have to worry about finances and taxes. I don’t have to worry about coming out of my pocket for expenses if my patients are low for the month. And it feels good to work with a team.

My phone dings, and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s a notification that I’ve got a match. I view his profile, and I’m immediately impressed. He’s tall. Good looking. And according to his occupation, he’s a business owner. I hold my finger out, hesitant to swipe. Maybe I’m not ready. Or maybe I am ready, but I’m scared. Mara’s right. I have to get myself back out there sooner than later. I swipe right and release the breath I’m holding. Then I shove the phone back into my pocket and smile as I thoroughly clean the exam room.

Today starts my new journey. My new journey to love and happiness. I’m sick of crying every time I think of Baas. I’m sick of feeling jealous every time I think about the fact that he’s with another woman. This is not how I want the rest of my life to be. And I refuse to sit back and be miserable while he gets to frolic around with his wife and live a life of happiness. No. I get to be happy too. Things are looking up for me for the first time in a long time. I have a new outlook on life. Today is just a start, but soon, I will have it all.

Baas

Mafachiko, Africa

I try my hardest to pay attention during the council meeting, but it’s almost impossible. My mind is racing, and I can’t turn it off, no matter how hard I try. Femi calls my name to get my attention. “Yes,” I answer.

“King Juma expected an heir by now. He’s getting anxious.”

I lean back in my chair and meet his stare. “King Juma doesn’t dictate when my wife gets pregnant.”

I knew this was coming. Nala mentioned this over the weekend, and I knew the elders wouldn’t let this rest. Not only were Nala and I married to join our countries, but we were also required to produce a child. Preferably a son. I knew going into this that it would be a problem, and so did she. I have no desire to have a baby with a woman I don’t love, and she feels the same. What we have is complicated enough without subjecting an innocent child to the mix. So, we both agreed that we would never conceive. She’s been on birth control since the day we married and plans to keep it that way.

Femi straightens his posture before he responds. “You’re wrong. If we are to keep this treaty intact, we must honor the terms of the agreement.”

I huff. “Femi, how about you worry about more important things? My wife and I know what’s at stake, and we’re taking care of it.”

Dafari shifts in his seat before he jumps in. “Yes, I hardly think there’s anything we can do to speed up the process. It will happen when it happens.” He nods, reassuring me that he’s got my back. “Let’s move on, shall we?” he continues. “Baas, how’s our military doing?”

“Promising. I just recruited five new soldiers last week. Strong and eager to learn.” I speak firmly and with pride. “We lost a lot of men when we went to war, and although we are not 100 percent recovered, we’ve come a long way.”

Dafari smiles. “That’s good to hear. What’s next on the agenda?”

I check my notes before answering him, something I’ve never had to do before. But with my mind being distracted, I needed to make sure I could remember the topics and not look incompetent. Many men are lined up to serve in my position. They’re just waiting for me to slip so they can swoop in and “save the day.” Now, of course, this will never happen. For one, I am good at what I do. I’ve been by Dafari’s side since we were kids. And . . .