Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition (54 page)

Olena frowned as she tried to focus past the marital sales pitch Galaxy Brides snuck into the program.

“The Qurilixian worship many gods, favor natural comforts over modern technical conveniences, and prefer to raise, grow, and cook their own food. They have been peaceful for nearly a century, aside from petty territorial skirmishes that break out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses. So brides have nothing to fear. At Galaxy Brides, we take your happiness very seriously. That is why we—”

“Ugh, never mind,” she mumbled to herself. She wanted useful information and they’d uploaded a blasted commercial.

As backwards as these barbaric men sounded, she hoped they at least had a space port so she could easily hitch a ride off the planet. If her situation wasn’t so dire, it would have been hilarious.

The planet was in the Y Quadrant. That was good. Olena was familiar with the territory. She had escaped a renegade hunter a few years back, by flying into an asteroid belt that ran through its outer edge. She had seen the red-brown planet briefly and had almost stopped for repairs. Even though she hadn’t landed, a pirate always remembered a potential planet on which to hide. You never knew when it would come in handy. Her excellent memory and dumb luck were the only reasons she’d survived this long.

But, knowing what she did now, how they were a superstitions lot who shunned modern technical conveniences in favor of natural comforts, she was kind of sorry she hadn’t paid them a quick visit before now. With the right crew, she could have scammed the unsophisticated kingdom for all their valuables in a month’s time. Good thing a corporation like Galaxy Brides was there to find them—

“Blasted space monkeys!” she swore under her breath.
Stupid commercial get out of my head.

The droid pedicuring feet finished its task. Olena wiggled her toes, sure they’d never looked so pretty.

This trip hadn’t been so bad. She’d traveled in far worse accommodations. Plus, the ship had a medic unit. She’d found it that first night, typed in her room number, and seconds later her arm was fixed without even a scar to show for it.

The spacecraft was luxurious, but she’d spent the last four weeks quarantined with a boatful of jittery, excited brides. Apparently the corporation didn’t want the shipment compromised by the male crew. Olena looked around. Um, these women were crazy enough to sign on to be ship- order brides. She’d hazard a guess and say the shipment was already a little compromised to begin with.

After a month of traveling with the giggling twits, Olena was sure that refusing the shanghai gig had been one of her best calls. She would have dumped the brides out of her smaller rust bucket of a ship in a lunar second.

Stop judging,
she scolded herself.
You don’t know their stories.

But you have to admit they giggle. A lot,
herself answered.

Personal droids and cooking units were assigned to each passenger. She had used her cleaning droids to no end, spending hours making a mess just to watch the things pick up. They never complained. As soon as she heisted a new ship, Olena was going to make sure she took a dozen of those little numbers with it. As for eating, having known firsthand the pangs of starvation, she gladly feasted on more than her fair share of food simulator meals.

Yep, her accommodations could have been much, much worse. Option number two would have included being tied up in a prison, held at the mercy of some half-wit bounty hunter, who’d more than likely try to take an advance on his wages with her unwilling body. Then, she’d have to kill him, she’d be left helpless, that ship would crash…disastrous.

“They are gorgeous, but I think I am going to go get my breasts enhanced again—just a little bigger—and I’m going to have my nipples enlarged.” Hearing Gena make reference—
again
—to her own genetically altered breasts, Olena forced a false smile and giggled with the rest of them. Gena’s boobs were an ungodly size. Olena had been tempted more than once to bump into the woman just to see if she tipped over.

Oh, yeah. This was getting old. Good thing they were docking in a few hours or she might have tried squeezing out of the small port window in her room so she could float away into deep space.

Gena kept babbling, but Olena ignored her as she looked down at her own body. She had taken advantage of some of the services, having the hair on her legs and armpits permanently removed. She didn’t care much for the body altering, though she did get one annoyingly puckered brand removed from her backside.

“How will you know who the princes are?” came the cynical reasoning of Pia Korbin. Olena looked to her right. She liked the sarcastic Pia. “I’ve heard all the men wear disguises. You could end up with a royal guard.”

“Or a gardener,” a brunette offered with a laugh.

“I hear they wear practically nothing at all,” Olena said, just to get a rise out of the women. “Except a mask and some fur.”

She wasn’t disappointed. They tittered in excitement.

“You can’t miss royalty,” the self-important Gena announced, tossing her auburn hair. “You’ll see it—”

Blah, blah, blarg, blah,
Olena mentally filled-in as the woman spoke, rolling her eyes.

Olena caught her reflection in a mirror. Weakly, she waved back the hands of the beauty droid who had finished curling her locks. For a moment, she froze, not recognizing the woman in the plush white cotton robe staring back at her. Turning her head to one side and then the other, she frowned as she studied her upswept locks. The sides pulled up into a center knot, only to cascade down her back in curls. She looked like a spoiled rich girl and it made her uncomfortable.

“Come on, Olena.” Riona Grey placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear. They’d spent quite a bit of time drinking in Riona’s suite, playing Frendle’s Chips and avoiding the others. “Want to have a couple drinks and try to find a way off this ship that doesn’t include a gangway?”

Olena smiled, but was unable to take her eyes away from the stranger in her reflection. “I wish.”

“Try to find me if you don’t get married. We’ll raise fury on this planet.” Riona chuckled and pushed back. She’d spent a lot of hours with the woman, but had a feeling this might be one of the last times they actually spoke. Riona didn’t seem intent on staying, but Olena needed to find a husband so she could find a ride off the floating rock. Then she’d be logged out of Galaxy Brides’ active database.

Swallowing, she shook herself from the trance and stood to follow the others out into the hall leading to their suites. She took a deep breath, telling herself none of this mattered. What was a little marriage if it would help her recover her freedom? It wasn’t as if she had any plans to marry for love or happiness. The universes were a rough place. A girl had to do what she had to do. Like everything else in her life, this adventure was just a means to an end. Her hair would soon be undone and this costume she wore discarded.

Then, forcing herself to look on the bright side, she glanced down at her stained toenails and thought,
Won’t the crew get a kick out of this!

O
lena shivered
, uncomfortably standing in her traditional silk and gauze Qurilixian gown. At least it was black, a perfect color for her unamused mood. She felt like one of the female slaves being readied for the auction block of Phatar. The only redeeming factor was, unlike the slaves, there was no collar around her neck, and she had the hope of escaping.

The revealing outfit had been cut low on her chest, basically showcasing her goodies for the barbarian suitors. Her skin looked overly pale next to the black. The skirt clung to her waist and hips, but the bottom pieces looked shorn as if she’d been attacked by something with claws. Cloth shackles bound both arms—elbows to wrists—fastening them to her waist. Though she could have escaped the silk chains, it greatly added to the whole slave auction effect the men seemed to be going for.

What was marriage anyway, if not voluntary slavery?
she thought. Olena almost felt sorry for the guy who picked her. He would really have no idea what he was getting himself into.

It was too late to change course now. This was happening.

The brides stood in the corridor leading out of the ship’s port. Olena closed her eyes briefly as a breeze whipped her skirt around her legs. With a deep breath she steeled her nerves and opened her eyes with an expression that denoted a confidence she didn’t necessarily feel. She wore the mask like a shield, with an automatic series of facial movements that created the illusion she was in complete control of her destiny, and that she knew something very important the onlooker didn’t.

She was the first slave on the auction block and was provided with an ample view of what was going on below. Determined, she took stock of her primitive surroundings. Below her, men howled in delight as her dress blew higher around her thighs. Olena was too proud to push the skirt down. Let the wind blow it where it would. She lifted her chin into the air and gave a half smile she didn’t feel.

Standing before her, shoulder to shoulder in two long lines, were the bachelors. They didn’t move, didn’t shout, as they formed an aisle of naked flesh. Olena had already been instructed that she was to lead the other women through so the men could get a look at them. As her skirt blew around her again, revealing her athletic thighs, she mused,
There, let them have a good ole peek.

The blue-green of dusk obscured the distant mountains and nearby forest with shadows, slowly changing the appearance of the reddish-brown soil to black. Stars winked down framing a large moon. She’d been on planets like this before—well, maybe the trees were a little smaller on other planets, but close enough. Seeing a nearby tree trunk nearly one fourth the size of the Galaxy Brides’ spacecraft, she smirked. Okay, so trees were a lot smaller on other planets.

Glowing ash from the nearby bonfires drifted overhead, before losing their fire as they blew away in the cool breeze. The smell of burning wood wafted over her as the wind shifted. The rowdy crowd seemed to be getting louder. Behind them, near the back, couples kissed openly. The style was obviously long hair for both sexes. The women wore dresses of flowing material and the men wore simple tunic shirts and breeches. Such fashion was created with natural fibers. The women sitting on the men’s laps didn’t look like prostitutes, so she guessed they were married couples. It was a strange notion, being in the bridal line looking at a possible future.

Not
that she would ever choose such a future.

Music and laughter resounded over them. The campgrounds were filled with large pyramid tents. They glowed from within as torches lit dim earthen pathways between them. Ribbons and banners floated on the breeze in many brilliant colors. Olena refused to be impressed by the sight. The less she liked about this place, the better it would be when she left. And if not better, easier.

The silent, seven foot barbarian-grooms were larger than she first anticipated, though Olena was hardly a woman to back down from such a thing. This was definitely an isolated warrior- class planet. They would take pride in themselves and their ways of doing things. Their pride would equal arrogance, and she knew just how to play to arrogance.

The grooms wore only three things—a fur loincloth wrapped their thick waists
to leave bare their muscular legs and chests, jewelry consisting of a bracelet of intricate gold around their sinewy biceps and a crystal necklace, and a black leather mask that hid their faces, from upper lip to forehead, from view.

She tried to hide her smirk as she remembered thinking how hideous they must have looked, wanting to get married in the dark. Then, seeing the unmasked crowd behind them, her smirk faded. These people weren’t ugly or malformed. Far from it. Swallowing nervously, she tried to keep fear from creeping into her chest.

Firelight transformed oil-glistened flesh into glowing towers of solid bronzed perfection. Chests rose steadily and muscles were tense, like the predator anticipating prey, counting the heartbeats until it was time to pounce.

Olena detected the lust radiating bright and feverish from the eye slits in the masks. Their heated gazes oozed like liquid metal—possessive, dominant, ready to lay claim.

Yep,
Olena told herself, no longer feeling any guilt for what she was about to do.
Slave auction.

P
rince Yusef
of Draig stared at the red-headed vixen at the front of the bridal line. The black of her dress whipped boldly around her athletic body and she did not even try to stop it from lifting in the breeze. He saw the pride in her bright emerald eyes as she stood very still.

Yusef did not need to confirm his instant attraction to her by checking to see if the crystal hanging from his neck was beginning to glow. He knew the moment she stepped onto the deck that she was going to be his, even if he had to go against tradition, and the magic he believed in, to claim her.

Glancing down, he saw such drastic measures wouldn’t be necessary. A sultry smile curved up the corner of his mouth. The magic of the gods agreed with him. The fiery woman was destined to be his wife.

Again he stared at her, letting his eyes shift with the sight of a dragon, so that he could better see the details of her face. Her lips curled with what could have been mocking disdain for the whole affair. He smiled. Yes, this one definitely had fire and Yusef always loved to play with torches.

O
lena sighed
. Following the pilot’s signal to step down, she led the procession of brides through the long aisle of man-flesh. The soft slippers on her feet were uncomfortable as they didn’t fully protect her feet from the uneven earth. Oh, how she longed for her boots and maybe a drink. Scratch that. She could definitely use a drink. Boredom started to set in when—
bam
. She was breathless, captured by a spell.

Eyes of a dark and dangerous gray rose to challenge her, staring out from the face of an ungodly gorgeous man. This groom was so unlike the paler companions at his side. His skin had been kissed by Qurilixen’s suns, leaving no doubt by his lack of tan lines, that he spent a great deal of time naked and outdoors. His possessive gaze sent chills over her skin in a way so unfamiliar to her she had to consciously shake herself to be sure she still breathed.

The man smiled a slow, sultry smile she had seen so many times before. She wasn’t fooled. This man wanted her. He was trying to stake claim to her with his animal magnetism. Even as she resented his confident expression, she was stirred by it.

I’m surprised he doesn’t pee on my leg to mark his territory,
she mused, trying to pretend that she wasn’t affected.

As she passed him, he had the audacity to bow to her. Olena snarled at him, snapping her teeth in a saucy wench sort of way, which appeared to greatly upset the plans of his male vanity. Nevertheless, soon he was recovered and she saw the unmistakable light of daring in his gaze. His mask shifted as his brows rose in acceptance of her challenge. Again he bowed, blowing her a kiss to make her cheeks flame.