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When Kings Bend (Signed Paperback)

When Kings Bend (Signed Paperback)

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Three brides have been given to me: Niamh is as delicate as the careful steps she takes, Selene is as challenging as the secrets she’s trying to unravel, and Amira who has been lost to me.

Someone has taken her and that fool does not realize that a King never forgives or forgets.

Blood debts must be paid and the collectors are knocking on doors. The Hand himself keeps the ledger and my name has been written in red.

Yet, no shadows appear at my doorstep.

He may be the Hand of the Kings, but I am Diarmuid O’Sullivan. Before this cult infiltrated Dublin, my family ruled it.

And this King always fights for his throne.

This time, I am not fighting alone. Despite my desire to keep them safe and secure, my brides have no fear of shadows.

In fact, they are determined to shine a light in every dark crevice where my enemies hide.

They don’t realize that if that light shines on me, they may not like what they see.

Some Kings are monsters.

When Kings Bend is the second installment of the O’Sullivan’s Brides. This is a dark mafia romance, intensified by the presence of a cult, with mature themes, mature language, and very mature steam. Discretion is advised but not encouraged.


My rivals are Dons; I am a King.

Three brides have been chosen for my pleasure and displeasure. One of them will become a King’s consort; the others will be discarded.

Until my decision is made, I get to feast on them all.

They are mine.

After the demise of my uncle, the O’Sullivan family has yet to choose the new Don. With two brothers and a vengeful, unhinged cousin also vying for the position, tension is rising in an already dangerous business.

Especially since no one knows that I’m responsible for my uncle’s disappearance.

Enter the Hands of Kings, a global cult with the ability to replace CEOs, Presidents, and Popes. And their leader, Victor, has his eye on me.

Few men were made to be Kings and Victor has plans for me, plans that do not require my approval.

But an unseen enemy is hiding and they know my secrets. They are manipulating the people around me with the intention of taking my crown.

A King is not so easily dethroned, especially when threats are made toward me and mine.

No one shall have my brides.

When Kings Rise is a dark mafia romance, intensified by the presence of a cult, with mature themes, mature language, and very mature steam.

Intro into Chapter One



AS I STEP onto the dimly lit street, my gaze falls upon an unusual sight—a plethora of flowers left unguarded outside a small shop. The air is cool, and the quiet of the night surrounds me. Rows upon rows of petals, some wilting slightly at the edges, others vibrant as if plucked just moments ago. It's an odd contrast to the steel and concrete that tower over them. Perhaps an elderly shop owner had left them out, believing the good people wouldn’t steal, that they might give a second thought to the shop's livelihood.

But I know better.

This world, with its fleeting moments of beauty, is nothing but a façade. The tales of peaceful streets and good-hearted neighbors—they're mere fabrications sold to us by those in power. Governments say it’s for economic success, when truly it’s greed and religion’s their salvation, when all they want to be are gods that walk the earth, all the while concealing the truth of their human nature. It's a nature I know all too well, having roamed these streets not as a guardian but as an example of what lurks in the shadows. Monsters are what they’d call us. Always taking, never giving back, leaving nothing but destruction in our wake.

The scent of the flowers hits me, overpowering in the stillness of the night. It's a smell I've never been fond of, one that many seem to cherish. They fill their homes with these vibrant colors and intoxicating scents, not realizing the irony. To me, it's the smell of death, of funerals—of endings.

The memories of those funerals linger in my mind, a mix of grief and unknowing accusations. Families wreathed in sorrow, their tears a testament to the void I'd carved into their lives. And there I stood among them, an unseen specter at the feast of their despair. It was a grim irony; the mourner and the cause of mourning intertwined, yet worlds apart.

The night deepens, drawing a veil over the city, and as I watch, the glass door across the street swings open, catching the glint of the streetlight. The sound of the church bell cuts through the silence, and my steps become cautious, deliberate. A group of jovial young men, spilling out from a pub and lost in their revelry, pays me no heed as I slip by, a mere ghost against the backdrop of their fun night out.

My target, the shop owner, remains oblivious to my presence. It's a pattern I've seen play out time and time again—the unawareness of those I follow, right until the very end. He's wrapped in a long coat to protect him against the chill of winter, his breath clouding the air in fleeting wisps. He locks up his store and continues down the street, passing more buildings until he slows down.

His path leads us to a quaint townhouse, its presence marked by a small brick walkway and a door painted a vivid purple. It's a splash of color in the gray concrete buildings we just passed. As he fumbles with his keys, a sudden apprehension takes hold, and he whirls around, his eyes searching the darkness for a threat he can feel but not see.

I remain still, a specter melded with the shadows, watching as he scans the night. There's a tension in him, a primal recognition of being hunted, yet without the sight of the predator. It's a dance as old as time—the prey senses danger, yet the hunter remains concealed, a breath away from revelation.

His gaze eventually moves on, dismissing the nagging feeling of being watched as nothing more than the night's trickery. The key turns in the lock, the door swings open, and I make my move.

As the shop owner turns his back to the night, I close the distance. There's a precision to the movement, a silence born of practice. The door is barely ajar as I push him inside, the sanctuary of his home no longer a safe haven but a stage for the night's final act. The click of the lock is a definitive sound, sealing our fates together in the confines of his world. Tomorrow his shop will not open.

 I have no idea what this man has done, but he is on my kill list. With my arm firmly around his neck, he tries to look back at me, his mouth opening slightly like he’s about to plead for his life. But that would do no good. Without giving him another second, I twist his neck, the break quick. His death is over in mere seconds. He slumps in my arms, and I carry him into his living room and lay him down on the floor. I stare down at the old man, wondering when I’ll get tired of this. If I disobey, I will pay the price.

With a heavy exhale, I do what I do best. I spend the next few hours making his body disappear forever. He will become an unsolved murder, just like most of my victims are. Any cameras in the area will be wiped of my appearance. No trace of tonight’s actions will be left. 

Returning to my sanctuary, the grandeur of the wrought iron gates is a stark contrast to the dark deeds of the night. I find solace in the seamless integration of technology and tradition. The gates part at the command of my vehicle's signal, a silent welcome in the quiet of the night. In the rearview mirror, I watch them close, sealing me away from the world outside, from the city that pulses with life and death in equal measure.

Here, I am not the hunter nor the hunted; I am simply Diarmuid, master of this domain. Selene and Niamh are in the main living room, and when I arrive, both of them turn and take me in from my toes to the crown of my head. This is the norm for them. Checking me for wounds, like each time I leave, I might not return. Relief washes over both their faces, and it eases some of the tension in my shoulders.

“I’m going for a shower.” I leave the statement open, letting them know they are welcome to join me. I very rarely take a shower alone anymore. Selene is the first to rise from the couch, the black silk nightgown clinging to her perfect body.

“We’ve just showered, but let me run the water for you.” Her gratitude for how I keep her safe never ceases. I keep expecting them to defy my rules, but so far, they have been obedient. Grateful, even. Selene brushes her hand against mine as she walks past, but I circle my fingers around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

Pulling her into me, I place a soft kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”

She smiles, and I release her. 

Niamh is still watching me. “How did work go?” she asks. I know she’s wondering if I found Amira yet, but I haven’t. Her mother is missing, too, and I’m wondering if her mother came to her senses and took off with Amira in tow. My men are still searching, but it’s frustrating that there have been no sightings of her.

“It went according to plan.” The shop owner's lifeless body assaults my thoughts, and I don’t want to think about what I just did. I walk to Niamh and step to the back of the couch, reaching for her hand. I place a kiss there. “Work is boring; tell me about your day?” I say, pulling her up. She walks around to join me.

“Selene and I baked.”

I smile as I walk. “I was wondering what the smell was.”

She grins. “Liar; that was hours ago. I doubt the smell still lingers.”

She’s right; it doesn’t. All I can smell is her sweet perfume.

The sound of the running water has Selene returning from the bathroom, and I start to take off my clothes. I’ll have to burn them, so I place them in the trash chute. My maids know anything in there must be burned completely.

It’s a pity; I liked the suit. Once I’m naked, Selene and Niamh don’t leave but wait in the bedroom for me, and the thought of having two of my brides waiting makes me wash up quickly. We have grown close since everything has happened, in the most delicious ways.

When I re-enter the bedroom, the curtains are drawn, and the girls are sitting beside each other on the bed. I lean against the doorframe, just looking at them.

“You are both so beautiful,” I say.

I hate that I must choose one, but for now, I can have both. I dry off and drop the towel—no need to redress—and walk to my brides. My cock is already hard. Selene licks her lips as she glances at my cock while Niamh rises. I touch Niamh’s face and bring her mouth to mine. Selene’s hands circle my cock, and it pulses as she strokes it with practiced motions.

Niamh’s kisses are sweet, and I reach down, pulling the cord of her robe before pushing the garment off her shoulders. Beneath her small night dress, she wears no bra, and her breasts are perky and free. I grope one, and she groans into my mouth with pleasure. Moist, wet lips circle my cock, and my head rolls back as Selene’s lips make a path up and down my shaft.

She has gotten very good at pleasing me over the last few weeks. I’ve noticed such a shift in her attitude to me, as if saving them is something she will be forever grateful for. If I had thought that’s what would make her bend sooner, I would have perhaps considered staging something.

But I don’t have to. Niamh touches my cheek, directing my face back to hers. Her eyes shine with an innocence that I want to dirty.

I don’t keep my kisses soft but grow greedy, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She groans, and when I pull away, I touch Selene on the crown of her head, and she releases my cock and rises. I want to see them kiss. It’s something they have never done, but when I direct their faces together, they hesitate only for a moment.

“Kiss her,” I instruct Niamh. She’s more submissive and takes directions well. Niamh holds Selene’s face, and they join lips. I stroke my cock as I watch them kiss for a few moments before moving behind Selene and removing her nightdress. She’s also wearing only a small black nightdress.

“Touch her breasts,” I whisper into Selene’s ear before running my tongue along her earlobe. She does, and Niamh’s eyes open. She looks directly at me over Selene’s shoulder. Her dark eyes are a pool of black, swimming with lust.

“You like that?” I ask Niamh.

“Yes,” her word is a mumble.

I reach around Selene and take one of Niamh’s hands, placing it on Selene’s breast before I let my hand trail down to Selene’s stomach, my cock prodding into her ass. I continue my path all the way down until I touch the flesh of her thigh, before gripping her nightdress and pulling it up. I’m surprised she has no panties on.

“Were you expecting this?” I ask with a smile.

She breaks the kiss with Niamh and tries to turn, but I keep her in place. “Yes,” she answers.

My fingers run across her mound before I find her clit and circle it. She leans into my chest, and Niamh continues to touch Selene’s breasts, a look of fascination on her face.

“You can touch her, too,” I say to Niamh.

She hesitates but only briefly. Selene doesn’t object as Niamh’s hand joins mine, her fingers trailing beside me before she pushes her finger inside Selene. Selene’s gasp seems to excite Niamh as she pushes deeper.

When Niamh extracts her fingers, I can imagine how wet they are. I reach around with my free hand and take Niamh’s hand, placing her wet fingers one at a time in my mouth. I suck off the moisture, and it tastes sweet. Niamh’s mouth forms a small O as she watches me, and her innocent stare has my cock raging harder into Selene’s backside, which pushes harder against me, telling me she’s yearning for me to take her.

I spin Selene, and with two strides, she’s at the foot of the bed, where I make her sit. “Lie back.” She’s ready to shuffle further up, but I grip her hips. Right, there is perfect. I stroke my cock a few times before I spread her legs, her pussy pink, wet perfection.

Niamh is at my side, looking down at Selene. She wets her lips, and I consider telling her to lick Selene’s pussy, but my need to fuck her is too strong. I stroke my cock hard a few times before gripping Selene’s legs and pulling her closer to me. Another inch, and she would fall off the bed if I weren't supporting her. My cock sits at her opening, and I turn to Niamh and watch her as I push all the way inside Selene.

“Kiss me,” I say to Niamh, and she steps closer, her lips finding mine. The kiss is brief before I turn and focus on fucking Selene hard and fast. Her groans turn to moans, and her moans to shouts. She’s loud when having sex, and it heightens my excitement as I fuck her hard. She tightens around me, and I’m surprised when she comes so fast. Her screams fill the room. My own orgasm is riding high, but I withdraw before I spill my seed and turn to Niamh.

“Your turn.” I grin. “Take off your night dress.”

Niamh has it over her head in a moment and positions herself, so she’s bent over Selene, who’s still reeling from coming. I push on her lower back, her face nearly all the way on Selene’s pussy.

Selene raises her head and looks from me to Niamh.

“You can watch us come,” I say to Selene before I push two fingers inside Niamh. She’s soaking.

I remove my fingers and replace them with my cock. Niamh’s hands grip the bedspread on either side of Selene’s thighs. I push her face even closer to Selene’s pussy. “Can you smell her cum?” I ask.

I push into Niamh in a slower rhythm, trying to prolong my own release, but I’m so close to coming. I can’t hold back, especially when Niamh becomes bold and licks Selene’s pussy. I’m fucking her hard before I explode inside her. I keep pumping until she raises her head, her shouts of pleasure driving me on.

“Come for me, sweet Niamh,” I say.

On command, she cries out, and her wetness coats my cock. It’s such a perfect mix. I slow my pace and place a kiss on her spine.

“Good girl.” I’m sweating again. I always do when I have more than one woman to pleasure, but I enjoy having both of them in the bed with me.

Afterward, we shower and get into bed. With each bride lying on either side of me, I close my eyes with a contentment that’s becoming all too familiar. But sleep is hard to find.

Staring at the ceiling, the soft breathing of my Niamh and Selene are the only sounds in the vastness of the room, but I am consumed by thoughts of Amira. The one who got away, the one I must reclaim.

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