Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition (6 page)

Her rebuttal turned into a moan of surprise. Ualan growled, pulling her fiercely to his chest. Every hot, oiled inch of him molded to her skin. Her desire sparked into a white heat that flowed through her bloodstream, strong and potent.

The thin material of her dress was no match against his fire. This was insanity and Morrigan knew it. She tried to fight his touch, tried to pull back, but her brain kept begging for just one more feel, just a little longer, just let him touch you a little longer, longer…

Breaking free of her mouth, Ualan stared brazenly at her chest. She tried to calm her breathing but her lungs heaved with deep pants. He smiled, licking his bottom lip as if he could already taste victory. With a purposeful gesture, he flicked at the strap holding her gown up. It slid off her shoulder.

“Choose,” he commanded her.

Morrigan looked around the tent, intrigued by the hot water, drawn to the bed, shamefully curious of the throne. She couldn’t utter the words. She couldn’t decide. She couldn’t ask for it. She was too overwhelmed. Her body sung in ways she had never known possible. Between the wine and the power of the crystal and man, she couldn’t think straight.

“Wine,” Morrigan answered weak of breath and limb. Her hands trembled where they lay pinned against him, against the strong beating of his heart. She tried to push. It was a sorry effort. He was too strong, too tall, too overwhelming. “Please, can you go and get me a different wine?”

His mouth opened as if to protest. Morrigan felt his fingernails clawing lightly at her back. She put her hand to his firm lips to stop him from speaking. Almost desperate, she looked up at him. She needed to clear her head.

Lying, she promised, “Go, I bid you. Then, when you get back, we will finish this—all right?”

Ualan glanced over her body with a low growl of barely contained passion. His stomach tensed. Slowly, he nodded and released her.

Morrigan’s flesh jumped in instant protest. Her body ached. Her thighs and stomach quivered with denied need. Her breasts were swollen with the anticipation of his touch. She watched him stride from the tent, as he took her at her word.

“Oh.” She exhaled a long breath, too stunned for a moment to move. “The corporation said nothing about meeting you.”

M
orrigan slowly came
to her senses, as she stared at the exit where Ualan had disappeared. Without the heat of his nearness, she shivered, suddenly chilled to the bone. Now that she was alone she could reason. The man’s very presence had a drugging effect on her senses. He was potent, raw sexual energy, a completely irritatingly dominating barbarian who didn’t seem to be told “no” all that often.

He was a strange man to be sure, acting on tradition and primal instinct. But what had she expected? He was a Qurilixian, not a New Earthling. He grew up around men, probably used to spouting orders and having those orders followed. Although they were almost the same genetically, their customs were completely different.

Well,
Morrigan thought, with a wry twist of her mouth.
Not completely different. Had it been the Middle Ages on Old Earth, we would understand each other fairly well.

Then again, with a body like that, why would visiting offworld women turn him down?

I’m not just any woman
, Morrigan told herself.
I am a professional.

When she was sure Ualan was away from the tent, she poked her head out of the flap. Seeing no one outside, Morrigan sneaked out into the night. She dipped behind the blue-gray tent and then raced to hide behind a nearby black one, before stopping to get her bearings.

Morrigan imagined a medieval Old Earthling would have spoken more, especially while trying to seduce someone. However, there was something dangerous and alluring about Ualan’s silent perusal. It was almost animalistic, the way he looked at her. As if he was unashamed of his desires and expected her to be unashamed of hers. What he didn’t say with words, she could read in his eyes and feel on her skin when he touched her, as if he put the thoughts into her flesh with his very will.

Morrigan frowned, vowing that, as soon as she got home, she was going to purchase the biggest blasted sex droid her savings could buy. Robo-boyfriend would put this barbarian to shame—she’d make sure of it.

“Do not fight it,” she heard a man say from within the black tent. “I can feel that you want me. You chose me.”

A woman’s throaty moan followed the confident decree. Morrigan shivered, half-tempted to go back to Ualan’s tent and see what else his firm body had to offer her. It wasn’t like she had to get married to him or anything if they just had sex. And, who would know? Not her editor. Not anyone who mattered.

“Focus, girl,” she whispered to herself. “He’s the big lug who thinks dragging a woman off into the sunset by her hair is romantic.”

Morrigan heard moan again, this time louder. A shiver worked over her body. She wasn’t sure what she was planning to find out sneaking around outside. She had really thought there would be more talking and ceremony before everyone got to know each other so intimately. If this was dating, she really had been off the market a little too long.

Crossing quickly over to a green tent, Morrigan stopped near the opening. Seeing a narrow crack where the flap hung open, she couldn’t help but peek inside.

“Choose,” a man said.

Morrigan leaned closer, trying to see who he was with. What was with all this choosing? Did the Qurilixian Old Star language teacher have a serious vocabulary problem? It felt as if Galaxy Brides had purposefully misled them with talk of princes and royalty and instead sold them to a pack of wild barbarians—handsome, virile barbarians, but strange ones nonetheless.

“I-I can’t choose, Olek,” she heard Nadja answer. “Not yet.”

Morrigan saw a flash of skin as the woman moved past the opening. Soon, the man was behind her, his naked buttock flexing as he walked.

A dangerous jolt came over Morrigan. She knew she should turn away. But these men were just too delicious for the eyes. It wasn’t like she was a peeping-pervert. She was an investigative reporter. It was her job to observe the locals. Licking her lips, she tried to get another peek.

U
alan’s hand
trembled as he tried to contain himself. He clenched it tight around the goblet he’d fetched for his bride. His lips tightened into a harsh line. She wasn’t in the tent. He had suspected in the very back of his mind that she would try to leave, though he was still disappointed.

She had most likely run back to the ship. His heart beat wildly. How could he have failed, and so soon?

Ualan pushed his way out of the wedding tent. Gripping the goblet, he looked around the immediate area and started for the docked ship to stop her from boarding. It wouldn’t be hard to track her. Even now he picked up her scent. He didn’t have to walk far before he found Morrigan crouched next to his brother’s tent.

He was a warrior and always up to the challenge of a good fight—although this fight made him want to growl in frustration. By all that was sacred, what had he done to the gods to deserve such aggravation? His crystal glowed. That should be all the proof she needed to make her choice. The sound of moans came from within the field of tents. Sexual energy rose in the air to torment him with what he should have been doing at that very moment, instead of chasing his woman around the festival grounds. At least she didn’t try to join the celebrating crowd. As a prince, he didn’t want to be seen pursuing his woman on this night. That would make his humiliation complete.

Ualan knew his bride fought what he stirred in her, that she denied her attraction. The only thing he didn’t know was why she fought it, why she would not simply choose him. They both understood why she was here. This was their wedding night.

He forced himself to relax. She was a mystery, one he would have to figure out. He didn’t have a choice. This is who the gods gave him.

Truthfully, he was unnerved by her admission of many men. He would just have to watch her very carefully. It would not do to have her play him false. It was rare that it should happen in a marriage, but it had happened, or so legends warned.

Ualan remembered how she melted into his kiss. It seemed there was a way to quiet her spirited tongue after all. She might fight him, but she was not immune to what they had.

He smiled as she leaned over to look inside Olek’s tent. Silently, he came up behind her. Forcing his voice to be stern, he stated, “You cannot run. The crystal will always find you.”

Y
ou cannot run
. The crystal will always find you.

To Morrigan’s horror, the low voice came from behind her.

She jumped up in alarm. Spinning, she saw Ualan standing, wine goblet in hand. The crystal at his neck pulsed. At the same moment heat spread between her thighs and her nipples hardened like he’d touched them. Dismayed at being caught watching the other couple, she felt the blood draining out of her face.

“You don’t understand,” Morrigan said, with a feeble lift of her hand to stop his progress.

Ualan glanced at the tent opening and a smile curled one side of his mouth. He held out the goblet for her to take. He understood all too well what she had been doing. The blood came back, heating her cheeks with what had to be a bright, flaming pink that even the darkness couldn’t hide.

Morrigan refused to reach for the goblet because it would take her closer to his delectable body and she needed to keep space between them. She shook her head in denial. She was beginning to really hate the loincloth. How was she supposed to concentrate with such a distraction? She tried to ignore the powerful draw of his naked chest and ended up staring at it.

Ualan gestured that she should step away from the tent.

“It’s not what you think. My friend is in there and I wanted to make sure she was all right. She’s delicate and I don’t want your barbaric ways hurting her or scaring her.”

Again, his head moved but he said nothing. Why wouldn’t he just speak? When Morrigan did not reach for the goblet, Ualan let it slide from his hand. It landed with a soft thud on the ground, spilling the liquor into the dirt.

“Come,” Ualan said with a curl of his fingers. It wasn’t exactly what she’d meant when she wished he’d speak. Sexual intent burned hotly in his gaze beneath the mask. However, if she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she detected some anger in his tone, or was it exasperation?

Night not quite going like you planned, eh, barbarian? Yeah, well mine neither.

The crystal pulsed as if in answer to her thoughts. Morrigan’s blood roared to life in her veins. All the talk on the ship of sex, combined with the largeness of Ualan’s form, filled her head. A chant struck up in her brain, urging sweetly, what harm is there in one night?
Just one night. Just one night. No one will know.

Treacherous brain.

Blast it all, most treacherous body.

Absently pushing the emerald on her finger to make sure the camera was off, Morrigan stepped forward. Resting her hand over Ualan’s heart, next to the crystal, she felt him tense beneath her palm. He studied her guardedly, as if he expected her to try something deceitful. Her eyes dipped down to look at the glowing stone. She didn’t dare touch it.

“Come.” This time the word was tender.

Morrigan nodded her head. He wove a spell around her senses. It was a deliciously wicked curse she could not be free of.

One night,
she promised herself.
No one will ever find out.
Just one night.

Ualan’s eyes closed briefly and he sighed, as if relieved she was finally willing. Some of the tension he’d carried all night visibly eased out of him. Taking her by the hand so she couldn’t change her mind, he quickly led her the short distance through the pyramid-studded grounds back to his tent.

Once inside, he didn’t let go. He pulled her to him. His eyes shone from the slits of the mask, probing her. Pressing her fingers once more above his heart, he whispered, “Choose.”

Morrigan trembled. His heart beat beneath her fingers in strong, rhythmic thuds.

When she didn’t readily answer, Ualan groaned and took her free hand in his. Placing it on the fur loincloth at his waist, he showed her how much he desired her by boldly pressing her fingers along his potent erection. Almost like a plea, he said again, “Choose.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, thinking how strange these silent warrior men were. She didn’t move her hand from the hard press of his desire, nor did she leave the excited beat of his heart. Her fingers flexed, easing slightly forward to feel him, but not too much as to be brazen or inviting. Frankly, the enormous size of his cock terrified her. She looked over his mask with the sudden urge to rip it from his features, but part of the thrill was in not seeing.

Ualan grunted, rotating his hips against her hesitant fingers. His breathing became deep. His eyes closed. Hoarsely, he urged her to, “Undress.”

He did not wait for her to comply. His fingers met the flesh of her shoulders and with an urgent tug he worked the material off her arms. With another quick jerk, her breasts were freed for his viewing.

Morrigan gasped, drawing her hands away from him. He touched her chest, cupping the tender globes in his palms. His warm fingers melted around her, massaging her nipples as if they were the finest things he had ever held. Ualan licked his lips. His eyes stayed focused, almost possessively so, on what he did.

Morrigan tried to back away, but he pursued her. She batted at his hands. He ignored it.

“Stop,” she whispered. But, as her head rolled back on her shoulders and her mouth gasped for air, her body urged otherwise.

Ualan held back, not giving her body what it begged for. Finally, after thorough torture, his fingers moved over her soft skin to her hips. Freeing her completely of the Qurilixian gown, he stood back to look at her naked form.

Morrigan blushed, but did not back away. One did not pull away in a dream. The fog was all around her, encircling them. She didn’t want to wake up just yet. Emboldened by the isolation of the planet and knowing that after tomorrow she would never see Ualan again, she stepped forward.

Devouring his half naked body with her eyes, she hesitated before running her finger down the center of his throat, over his nipples and down his flat, tensing ribcage. Her nails tripped over the fur along his waist in an agonizingly slow journey across his stomach. Watching his mask, she saw his nostrils flare. His chest rose evenly and his eyes bore forward into hers. He didn’t stop her. In fact, it seemed he was silently urging her in approval while fighting his need to dominate. Turning her hand, she began the journey back up.

With a groan, Ualan expressed his displeasure in her change of route. Unflinchingly, his eyes gazed forward into her as he pulled the side of the fur loincloth, instantly freeing himself when she would not. Morrigan breathed deeply. Wide-eyed, she stared at his erect member. It looked nothing like the small protrusion on the droid. Her mouth went dry. Realizing she gaped at him, she quickly turned her gaze away.

Morrigan imagined him looking at her, those blue eyes taking in her full length. She tried to focus, tried to calm her racing heart. This is not who she was, or what she did.

“Turn,” he commanded, his voice hot with need.

Morrigan had been about to reach for her discarded clothing. His accent was hoarse, thick, tortured. How could she not obey? Her eyes met his, not daring to venture downward for fear she’d lose her nerve. He came to her, glorious and proud.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

It was a pointless command for she didn’t dare move. She whimpered as his finger touched her cheek. It trailed lightly over her forehead, between her eyes, down the slope of her nose, into the indention above her mouth. Her lips parted and he traced them in feathery caresses.

Soon after, the veil fluttered from her heavy locks. Her hair tumbled in dark silk waves over her shoulders, the weight of her locks still unfamiliar enough to cause her to notice. Ualan watched in obvious pleasure as she dreamily gazed up at him.

Keeping his touch light, he drew his hand over her throat. He moved in aimless circles, taking his time with each feature—purposefully stoking the flames of her desires, as he made her more fevered parts wait.