Excerpt of Taking Karre by Michelle M. Pillow

Marriage. It was never something Karre had considered. Well, she had considered a fake engagement once, but that really didn't count since she would have gotten off the plane before saying her vows. Here, now, standing in the main hall of Battlewar Castle, she realized there was no way out—no matter how often she searched her rope–bound wrists looking for the portable jump prototype—because right now, in this moment, she was getting married.

A crescendo of laughter and cheering resounded over the hall. The boisterous uproar had been going on for some time, as excitement pumped through the crowd. Women wiggled and pranced in their tight corset tops and billowing skirts, trying to entice the men. Some of the gigantic knights wore lightweight tunics, others leather jerkins like the guards, others light chainmail and pieces of armor, and still others wore no shirt at all. Big metal goblets had been set before them, next to matching pitchers, on the long rows of rectangular tables. Muscles bulged, littered with puckered scars and tattooed designs.

The light came from a large fireplace on the far side of the room. Like most things in this place, it was immense and towering. Woven tapestries lined the walls in strips of material, showcasing coats–of–arms and various symbols. Karre looked around, studying the artifacts, wondering how much they'd be worth in trade.

Not now. Blend in.

Karre turned her attention to the head table, set high above the hall at the end of the room as a place of honor for the bridegrooms. Out of all the ceremonies on all the planes, she had never seen something as simple as the Starian marriage. Already two of the women had been claimed. Karre frowned, trying to remember their names—Jayne and Lilith. She hadn't really been paying close attention from the moment it became evident they wouldn't be able to help her escape. The women had discussed fighting, but nothing came of it.

An oversized, ill–tempered man they called Lord Sorin pointed at Lilith, stating the single word, "Mine," and, with that, they'd been married. Next, Lord Ronen, Sorin's brother pointed at Jayne. "Mine." And so, too, was Jayne wed.

In a way, Karre respected it. No pretense, no lies, just a simple point of the finger, a single uttered word and it was done. There were no promises of never–ending love, of happily–ever–after, of enduring whatever.

She looked at Vidar, meeting his guarded gaze. Karre tried to smile at him, but he quickly turned his eyes away. Her smile fell. It wasn't like she wanted to be married to him, she assured herself. Why should she care who chose her? All the men appeared to be well built and made of muscles. Sir Vidar wasn't so special. He just happened to be the first one of them she ran into. Besides, it wasn't like she was going to actually honor vows she didn't agree to.

Karre watched him carefully, taking in his every movement while trying to appear as if she didn't. Vidar looked at her again and she pointedly ignored him. Two could play his game. She glanced at Paige before turning to look over her shoulder at the watching crowd. A grinning redhead in bright green sunk beneath a long table filled with knights. By the way her man's head rolled back and his hand slipped under the table it was clear the woman indiscreetly sucked the guy's cock. Karre saw a couple of others do the same around the hall. Oddly enough, no one seemed to notice the bold behavior.

When no one spoke to claim Paige or herself, she turned back to the table. Four men remained, presumably one had already taken Paige—the first in line, if she wasn't mistaken by the way he tried too hard not to look directly at the woman. Each bridegroom wore a different–colored long tunic, reaching to the knees, over tight brown breeches. Woven belts were knotted at their waists, the end straps hanging along the right thighs. All were strong, with proud eyes and humorless expressions. The first limped when he walked, but by the way he stared at the other bride, Karre easily assumed he belonged to Paige. Remaining were Sir Vidar, a brown–blond man with a pronounced scar on his cheek, and a bearded knight with irritated eyes.

Blend in Karre. Right now you are a bride.

If bold behavior was what these men wanted, then that was exactly what she would give them.

"Oh, all right, I'll start," Karre announced, drawing attention to herself. Paige seemed almost relieved. She grinned at the bridegrooms and batted her lashes, doing her best not to look too long at Vidar as she gave the others equal attention. "My name is Karre. I like jewels, riches, power, servants, fine clothes and to be worshiped daily." She paused and arched a challenging brow, "I also like to get my way. Any takers?"

The brown–blond warrior looked horrified by her announcement and recoiled in his seat. He ran his fingers through his short hair before scratching the scar on his cheek.

"Come on, gentlemen, don't be shy," Karre strode before them, feeling very much like an auctioneer selling herself. She carried her bound arms like the situation was an everyday occurrence. "I only bite when I want to."

Sir Vidar cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. Karre winked at him, unable to help herself as she witnessed his obvious discomfort.

The angry man snorted and shook his head in denial. Standing, he said, "I have no wish for a bride. Excuse me."

Karre laughed, highly amused by the way he practically ran to get away from her. Perhaps she'd be the first woman in their history to not be claimed. She supposed if no one married her, she would be free to leave. Ignoring the slight ping to her ego, she dropped her arms in front of her. "Here I am in a room full of warriors and not a one of them is man enough to handle me. I must say this sets a personal record."

"I can handle you." Sir Vidar stood. "Mine."