One Thousand and One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: ??????, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
Chapter One
Axel Forrester adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against a lounge chair, grateful for the first warm, summerlike day in June in the Hamptons. Xander Kingston’s dog, Bella, sat by his side.
An extra pair of glasses lay on the table beside him. He picked them up and propped them over the golden retriever’s eyes. “There you go, girl. That’s better, isn’t it?” He patted her on the head, and she stretched out on the ground, leaving the glasses in place.
He tipped his head up to the sky and closed his eyes, enjoying the heat on his face. As a California kid, his first winter in New York had been a huge adjustment. He’d moved here last summer when he’d become the drummer for the Original Kings and had spent the first couple of months bunking at the lead singer Dash Kingston’s house.
Axel learned fast that the band was a tight-knit bunch, all living in Dash’s home. Until a baby scare with a groupie put Dash in need of a fake girlfriend to fix his reputation, and Axel’s sister, Cassidy, had played the role.
Now Cassidy and Dash were married, having wed in front of family and friends this past winter. Axel had rented a house nearby, as had Jagger, the guitar player, and Mac, the bassist. But Axel and the guys spent more time at Dash’s home studio or here at Xander’s than at their own places.
Xander complained about the fact that the band had followed Dash’s lead, making his house their home away from home, but nobody believed Xander really considered them unwanted company. And Sasha, the famous actress Xander had married this past spring, welcomed them, as long as they knocked first.
Given the Kingston family’s dysfunctional background, courtesy of their now deceased father, the fact that four of the five siblings were settled and happy gave a guy like Axel hope that he’d meet the right woman. He was sick of the rock-star lifestyle, the parties after the shows, the groupies, and the drinking. At thirty years old, he wanted a partner for life.
And if he couldn’t find the right woman?
He opened his eyes and glanced down at the dog that didn’t belong to him, giving her a long rub down her spine. “We all know the truth. You’re my girl, Bella, right?”
She lifted her head at the sound of her name.
“Quit trying to steal my dog’s loyalty.” Xander walked out of his house and joined him on the lounge chair beside him. “Why is she wearing my sunglasses?” he asked.
Axel figured the answer was obvious. “Because it’s sunny out and I’m protecting her eyes.”
“Know where she wouldn’t be squinting? Inside. Because when I’m not home, that’s where she belongs.”
Xander gestured toward the house, and Axel shrugged. “Sasha let me in and said I could relax by the pool, and you know Bella loves being with me.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “When you finally buy a house, make sure you have your own pool, okay?”