Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition (72 page)

O
lena fidgeted with nervous tension
. Queen Mede’s words flowed through her mind for the rest of the day, distracting her. She went to bed early, only to rise before dawn. She had no idea when Yusef would be back, but she wanted to be ready for him. The queen thought they should expect the men to return by late morning.

Olena bathed and dressed in her most alluring of clothes—which unfortunately were plain cotton pants and a tight black shirt that showed only a hint more cleavage than the rest. She let her hair dry in soft waves over her shoulders.

“Olena?”

Her heart jumped. Finally. Taking a deep breath, she fussed with her locks in the bathroom mirror.

“One second,” she yelled. Then, to stall as she pinched her cheeks, she asked lightly, “How was the battle?”

“King Attor is dead,” came the tired answer. She could hear him moving around in the front hall, putting down his sword and kicking off his boots. “We tried to arrest him but he called his troops to fight. We had no choice. But then, as king, I suppose neither did he.”

“It ended the only way it could.” Olena was glad the matter was finally settled. Well, as settled as such matters could be.

“Attor’s son will take the throne,” Yusef said.

“Uh-huh,” She adjusted her breasts beneath her top to get the maximum effect. She wondered if she should just take it off altogether, but then thought better of it. It wouldn’t do to distract him too much before she said everything she needed to.

“Olek is speaking to the new king now, negotiating a peace. It looks hopeful that our battles have ended.”

“So soon after the king’s death?” Olena frowned.

“It’s politics. It will take delicate negotiating, but peace can be achieved if we handle the situation correctly. Olek needs to extend our condolences before Prince Kirill officially takes the throne. He needs to know we do not wish to continue our aggressions. Some of the older nobles will protest but, in the end, they will bow to the decision of their leaders.”

“Does this mean we can leave the palace?” Olena was ready to go back to the Outpost to give her marriage a real chance.

“What are you doing in there?” His voice had drawn closer.

Olena took a deep breath and rushed out to meet him. Her smile widened at the sight of him. Her gaze roamed over his body. When he moved, he looked completely healed and his arm wasn’t in the sling.

“I,” she began. Oh, but he was handsome. Her eyes found his gray ones flecked with a subtle gold and she forgot everything that she had spent all night rehearsing. “I need…to talk.”

Yusef’s expression darkened but he nodded.

“I’m a pirate,” she admitted.

“I know.” He nodded. There was a sadness to him as he said the words and his body stiffened as if he braced himself.

“I mean…I was a pirate. Jack was my pirate father. He took me under his wing and showed me how to protect myself, how to steal, how to convince people to believe whatever I wanted. It was his idea that I stay a virgin so when I went through security checks—
anyway
. He taught me how to seduce men to get what I wanted from them.”

Olena bit her lip. Her words weren’t coming out right at all.

“And you miss it,” Yusef stated, thinking to understand.

“Yusef, I,” she hesitated. Her eyes teared. “Jack taught me everything I know. But, he didn’t teach me how to love.”

Yusef closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I…” She felt his pain and all masks dropped from her features. No longer caring that her speech was muddled into a blob of incoherent half-thoughts, she said the most important truth, “I love you. I’m pregnant and I love you. And I’m scared that you don’t feel the same way, because I can’t…tell…what love would look like on you.”

He opened his eyes. She trembled, beginning to cry. A flood of her emotions, so insecure, washed out of her onto him. Let him feel it. All walls were broken, all her defenses crumbled at her feet until she could no longer hide behind her mask of mischief.

Yusef rushed forward, sweeping her up into his arms. Before she could even blink in surprise, he kissed her deeply, letting her body fit into his, letting her feel his arousal, his unyielding, unending heart’s desire for her.

“If you can’t see that I love you, foolish woman,” he said into her mouth, “then feel that I do.”

Olena smiled happily, her whole world colliding into this one perfect moment. A stream of feeling rushed into her from him, warm and secure. She ran her hands over his body, eagerly dipping along his neck to find his naked back beneath his tunic. Lifting her swiftly into his arms, Yusef hugged her to his chest and broke his lips free. Her feet dangled above the ground.

“I believe I’m ready to collect on my bet now,” he said. Slowly, he set her down on the floor. His hands were on her shirt, pulling it up over her head.

“What would you have?” she murmured in full invitation. Yusef pushed her drawstring pants off her hips. Her fingers were on his waist, trying to free his center to her. “You get one demand. I can’t complain.”

“I would have you stay with me always, as my wife.”

“Done.” Then, batting her eyelashes, she said, “Now take me to bed and make a few more demands.”

Yusef grinned. Lifting her up, he pressed her back into the white wall. With a swift stroke, he was inside her willing body. Olena gasped in delight, never wanting him to stop. Yusef buried his face into her hair, and asked, “Who can wait for a bed, firebird?”

Y
usef followed
his wife at a distance as she made her way toward the east pond. It was late in the evening. Olena pretended not to detect him as she searched the dimmed trees. She could just imagine his Draig eyes darkening to a bright gold to watch over her slightly rounded waist—a testament to his growing child in her womb.

Hearing a low whistle, foreign to Qurilixen, Olena grinned. The demons had finally come for her. Covering her mouth, she trilled softly in return. Soon the path was alive with beastly figures.

“Captain!” one of the men cried.

Olena yelped in excitement and jumped into a pair of hairy arms.

“MoPa!” Pulling back, she said, “Hedge, Lufa, Caz, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Ah, captain,” Lufa’s voice gurgled. He was a giant upright amphibian. “You could’ve picked a closer planet.”

Olena grinned.

“So you ready to go?” Hedge, a prickle-headed being, asked. “We’ve got a transport waiting.”

Olena’s smile drifted. She had missed them so much.

“What happened here?” MoPa glanced down to her stomach where he’d felt a slight bulge.

“The nightmares are gone, MoPa. I’m not going with you,” she whispered. The men’s faces fell and they protested—all but MoPa who nodded, a gleam of happiness in his eyes for her.

“Quiet, now!” MoPa ordered darkly. “You don’t dare question the captain’s orders.”

“You all can stay with me, MoPa,” she offered. “You will be protected here.”

“There now, captain,” Hedge said. “You know we can’t be doing that. The high skies call us. It’s in our blood.”

“I’m not your captain anymore.” Olena reached behind her back and pulled out her gun. Handing it over to MoPa, she said. “But I am your friend. You will always find sanctuary here. MoPa, the crew is yours. Do your worst.”

MoPa smiled, he solemnly nodded his head at her. She saw his look and knew he would be sorry to see her stay behind.

“Give this planet hell,” he stated quietly. Olena nodded. With a flick of MoPa’s hand, the crew disappeared into the trees as if they were never there.

She stood silent, watching where they had disappeared. There was no long last look, no goodbyes. It was the pirate way and she understood it all too well. As soon as they sailed safe skies, they would drink to her in respect.

Startling slightly, Olena felt Yusef’s strong hand on her shoulder. She smiled, turning around into his awaiting arms. Her cheek pressed into his chest to feel his heartbeat, before she pulled back to look at him.

“What was that?” Yusef asked, basking in her loving expression.

“Ah, just the demons coming to visit,” she said. She felt a hard press against her back. Frowning, she reached behind her to pull a carving out from her husband’s fingers. It was a figurine of her, her stomach slightly rounded. Chuckling, she said, “You really need to get a new model for these things.”

“Why, firebird?” he asked, lifting her up into his arms. “When I have no desire to look at anything else?”

Olena laughed softly. And, as she kissed him, she murmured, “You could at least put clothes on me. Our son will think I walked around naked the whole time I was pregnant.”

“Ah,” he murmured against her. Yusef swept his wife away with him to their home and into their bed. “I think such a thing can be arranged.”

W
arrior Prince (Dragon Lords
) © copyright 2004 - 2015 by Michelle M. Pillow

Previously Titled: The Warrior Prince (Dragon Lords)

10
^th
Anniversary Edition, Third Electronic Printing July 2014, The Raven books

Second Electronic Printing September 2010, The Raven Books

First Electronic Printing January 2005

Cover art by Ravven © Copyright 2015

ISBN 978-1-62501-087-2

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.

T
he Survivor
...

Though no one can command her, this warrior would try to conquer her heart...

Physically scarred in childhood by an act of betrayal, Pia has never been considered an attractive woman to other humans, but in a universe filled with aliens she’s managed to blend in. One horrible mistake and she is on the run. Desperate to hide her identity, she makes a deal with Galaxy Brides—in exchange for a new face, she’ll marry anyone they put in front of her. Never did she realize her future husband would be the most handsome warrior of the Draig.

T
he Warrior
...

Though no man can thwart the brave dragon leader, a woman would be his undoing...

Dragon-shifter Zoran of Draig is a man who knows what he wants. Being a prince and the commander, he is called upon to make swift decisions, be ready to battle at a moment’s notice, and most of all, he always expected to be in control. When his beautiful wife, the one person who should obey him unconditionally, refuses to do so, Zoran discovers the battle for his heart’s desire is fiercer than any he war ever waged before. Can the conqueror become the conquered?

T
o My Wonderful Readers

To Lesley Parkin: Thank you for all of your hard work editing the Dragon Lords anniversary editions.

P
ia Korbin gasped
, sputtering as she jerked back from the blood spraying across her scarred hands and face. The knife slipped from her fingers to land on top of the man bleeding to death beneath her. Gradually, her drunken mind sobered. His pants were around his ankles, the evidence of his intent lowering as the artery next to his groin bled out onto the snowy black ground.

“You...ugly...bitch!” The man growled at her, his throat gurgling in pain, his eyes glaring with hatred. Even as she stood over his fallen body, she smelled the foulness of his breath. He weakly reached his hand to his hemorrhaging thigh, but then let it fall lifelessly to the side. Those words were the last he ever said.

Pia took a deep breath, looking desperately around the industrial dumpster at the end of the alleyway, to make sure no one watched her. Swallowing nervously, she reached down to search the man’s pockets, not bothering to check him for a pulse. She knew he was dead. Pulling out an ID card, she froze. It was worse than she feared. He was the mayor’s son.

Behind her, fire burst from the tops of industrial smokestacks. The city of smog, metal and stone was no place to trifle in. She coughed violently. Even the snow here was as black as death.

Looking down, she knew she’d really done it this time. They wouldn’t care that the man had attacked her, thinking to have a bit of morbid sport. On a planet like Rayvic, the mayor’s son had every right to take whatever he wanted—including an unwilling woman. They ran their city like the medical mafia ran its mob. One look at her ugly face and they’d kill her—slowly and painfully.

Grabbing her knife, she wiped the bloody blade on the man’s shirt. Next she took the wad of space credit slips from his pocket, before burying the body beneath a pile of refuse. Pia took a deep breath and one last look around before taking off down the alleyway. Daylight would be hitting the cold planet soon. Then all the goons in the city would be looking for her. She had to get out of there.

Pia sprinted, taking the back streets she’d memorized like the roadmap of variegated flesh on the back of her hand. She climbed down to an old, abandoned space dock nestled on the grey shores of the lapping inky river. Going to a pile of rubble, she uncovered the personal transport that would take her off the desolate black planet of ice.

T
wo weeks later
...

Pia didn’t move. The doctors of Galaxy Brides Corporation eyed her, their patient. The pristine white of their walls matched the white of their jackets and even the white of one doctor’s beard. As they searched, they couldn’t see her face beneath the heavy fold of her hooded cape, but they had seen her hand—a wrinkly, scarred mess of disfigured flesh.

“Miss Korbin,” one of the doctors said delicately. “I’ve brought a specialist to speak to you. Your blood tests have all come out fine. But we need to see your face to determine if we are going to be able to correct the damage you described.”

Pia lifted her scarred hands. Her eyes were hard as she pulled back the hood. Instantly, she saw the doctors flinch as they took in her face. She refused to show a reaction. It was the same every time—horror, fascination, repulsion, a rush of unasked questions, followed by a few rudely asked ones.

She knew what she looked like. Read the facts in the reflection of their gazes like a checklist moving over her face.

One eyelid drooped with a covering of flesh, pulling it down at the corner to partially hide the hazel eye beneath. The lashes and brow were long since melted away. Her right eye always watered and she dabbed it with a tissue. Part of her hair no longer grew, except in splotchy patches, which she kept cropped short like the rest of her locks. The burns continued down her skull to the left side of her face, burying an ear, over her neck and shoulder, down her arm, to cover over sixty percent of her body. The scars no longer hurt her when she moved, and she’d gotten used to their tight feel.

The doctor with the white beard cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Miss Korbin, you’re in luck. The burns haven’t affected the structural, ah, integrity of your face.”

“So you can fix it?” she asked with emotional detachment.

“Yes,” the woman doctor answered. Her eyes strayed to the side, trying not to stare at the patient. “But it will be an expensive procedure. With no Medical Alliance insurance...”

“So long as you agree to sign an exclusive contact with Galaxy Brides, it will be covered completely,” the bearded doctor said when the lady hesitated. “We have a shipment—forgive me, a load of eager young women just like you going to Qurilixen in about a week for their Breeding Festival. I can give you a brochure on the planet if you like. I’m told royalty might be there.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Pia had been over all of her options. The Rayvikians were looking for a scarred woman with her description. Soon every lowlife in the galaxy would be trying to collect the price on her head. No, a scarred woman was too easy to see and remember. It wasn’t like she could just change her hair color and blend into oblivion. She had to change her face and, thanks to the Medical Alliance jacking up the cost of every medical service in the galaxy, this deal was the only way she could afford to do it. “Give me the forms. I’ll sign.”

“Wonderful,” the doctor said, evidently claiming the company commission for himself. The others looked at him, as if irritated that they were in for a lot of work. “I’ll order some uploads brought down for you so you can learn about Qurilixen while we perform the surgeries. It might take your mind off the procedure, having the facts of your possible future homeworld loaded into your brain. It will give you something to concentrate on.”

“Miss Korbin,” the lady doctor said pensively. The bearded man walked to the intercom to call for the contracts. “We want you to understand that, due to the nature and advanced age of your scars, it will be a painful procedure. We won’t be able to put you out completely for the entire time.”

“It’s fine.” Her eyes stared forward. “Let’s just do it.”

“Very good. I’ll go set up. We need to get started right away. The first ship leaves in a week and then there will be about a week in a secondary transport before meeting up with the main ship. We only have two weeks to get you looking like the bride you were meant to be.” The bearded doctor smiled. He pushed the intercom again. “Dr. Charles, ready room twelve, please.”

Pia nodded. She touched the scars she’d grown used to. There was a strange comfort to their familiar pattern. She was almost afraid of what she would look like underneath them.

“We also need a waiver from you so we can document the procedure,” the woman doctor said, getting an electronic clipboard from the wall.

“No,” Pia said, stopping her. “I evoke the right of privacy. I don’t want anyone knowing I was here. And I don’t want any pictures taken of me before, after, or during the procedure.”

“But, think of all the people who will be inspired by your story, Miss Korbin,” she insisted.

“Don’t worry, Miss Korbin, if you don’t want pictures there will be no pictures. Our lawyers will even put a privacy clause into your contract if you like. I’m the best in my field, so you have nothing to worry about.” The bearded doctor gave the woman doctor a look of displeasure. The compensation for finding brides was great, as there was a shortage of willing women in the galaxy. He clearly didn’t want to scare the prospective bride off. “We’ll have all your scars removed in no time. Soon it will all be a bad dream. You’ll be very pleased, Miss Korbin, I promise.”

“All but the gash on my ribcage,” Pia said calmly. This doctor knew nothing of bad dreams or the nightmares that could haunt a person even when wake. “Do what you can with the others, but that scar stays.”

S
ix weeks later
...

Pia stared at the mirror. No matter how much she looked at herself, she didn’t recognize the smooth face or wide hazel eyes that stared back at her. The doctors had worked miracles on her. All her burns were gone, her cheek had been reconstructed, her hair follicles stimulated to grow, so she again had a full head of hair. The doctors swore she looked exactly like she would’ve if she hadn’t been burnt.

It was like they scraped off the top layer to reveal what lay hidden beneath. The scars had also been removed from her body. Her left breast was made to match the right, both of them lifted and reshaped. She saw muscle definition, where before the flesh had been so tight she hadn’t been able to see the form beneath it.

Oh, how it had hurt!

The transformation was worse than she could have ever imagined. Sometimes her limbs still ached with the memory of it. She’d never complained, not once during those two weeks of hellish surgeries. What would have been the point? The doctors had done their job. The Rayvikians would never find her. How could they? She couldn’t pick her own face out of a crowd. When she imagined herself, she still looked as she had before. In her dreams she was scarred, running away from a stranger that looked like her.

Pia spent most of the voyage alone, getting check-ups from the robotic doctor on the flight. She couldn’t find common ground with the other women on the ship. They were nice, but they talked of things she knew nothing about—cosmetics, men, marriage. They all seemed fixated with marrying one of the four princes rumored to be attending the mass wedding festival.

Thinking of the festival, she frowned. She had to find a husband. The exclusive contract she had been required to sign said she would go on any voyage Galaxy Brides had until she was married—whether it was this one time, or a hundred times. In the end, the result would be the same, she would be a wife. Until she agreed to take a husband, she was Galaxy Brides’ property to be shipped around from planet to planet, to endless planets. Pia didn’t relish the thought of making more of these trips, and she couldn’t risk a delivery possibly taking her to Rayvik or one of their affiliated districts.

Besides,
she thought,
Qurilixen doesn’t sound so bad.

The planet was inhabited by primitive male types similar to the hardcore warrior clans of Medieval Old Earth. They had been peaceful for nearly a century—aside from petty territorial skirmishes that broke out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses. They kept to themselves, had a simple religion, favored natural comforts to modern technology, and even prepared their own food.

Really, the Galaxy Brides’ uploads went on and on about how perfectly simple life was for the Qurilixian people. Whenever she tried to sort through the facts, it gave her a migraine. Jamming so much information forcibly into the brain couldn’t be a good thing. Humans were meant to learn organically, through study and determination. Not with artificial brainwave transfer.

Pia took a deep breath, forcing herself to concentrate.

Qurilixen suffered from blue radiation, and over the generations it had altered the men’s genetics to yield only strong, large, male, warrior heirs. Maybe once in a thousand births produced a Qurilixian female.

She sighed, pressing her finger to her temple to stop the throbbing. This would be better than being on some high-tech planet run by dimwits. Pia liked the idea of warriors and combat training. She’d be in her element in such a place. She’d have a better chance of finding herself a job.

And, thankfully, since the planet’s onworld women were so rare, Pia wouldn’t be surrounded by housewives all day, being forced to plan dinner parties.

Well,
she thought with an unamused look around her,
no women but these and others like them.

Pia was so used to standing off by herself and being rejected before a conversation ever began that she’d been unwilling to make a move towards friendship with any of the other women. With men, you just had to prove yourself in a fight and they would allow you into their ranks. They treated her just like one of the guys. Women were generally much more fickle.

The spacecraft was outfitted with the best accommodations and services the star system had to offer. It all made her uncomfortable. The personal droids followed her around like prison guards. More than once they’d startled her in the mornings, and she’d punched them in the circuit boards before coming fully awake. Even the doctor, that Pia had spent all those hours finishing her treatment with, had been biomechanical.

Cooking units materialized whatever she wanted to eat. If she cared to, she could have probably chosen something beyond mineral supplement paste, but really all food simulator food tasted on the bland side.

The women onboard the ship weren’t all bad and a few Pia even liked, though she hadn’t indicated as much to any of them. They were the only company she’d had in the last month of travel, as they were confined away from the crew members.

Tonight the ship would be landing, and she would walk her imposter’s body toward a future of convenience. Marriage. Even the word felt as unreal as her smooth skin. She really didn’t have an opinion on the subject, as she’d never in her life had cause to consider the question of life mating. She supposed being married was a lot like forming a battle alliance—choosing a partner to aid in mutual survival.

That reasoning made sense to Pia. What didn’t make sense were the upswept hair, short veils and wedding gowns. Surely alliances could be made just as easily in pants.

She looked at her fellow brides. They were all being readied for the Breeding Festival. It was the one night of darkness on the otherwise light planet, and considered the only night the men could choose a mate. It was a primitive ceremony, but Pia thought simple was good. She didn’t fancy standing in front of an audience in her new body. She wasn’t comfortable in it yet and even missed the protective, familiar shell of her old scars.

Gena, one of the women Pia absolutely couldn’t tolerate, laughed. Her voice was abrasive and harsh, as she announced, “Rigan finished her Qurilixian uploads first. It would seem she is most eager to please her new husband.”

Pia rolled her eyes.

“Or to be pleased by him,” someone added from across the circular room.