Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition Page 6

  “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.

  It was ecstasy. Every nerve inside her radiated around his touch. Her mind followed the fingers’ whispering movements. Her back arched, trying to push fully against his teasing hand when he journeyed down the valley between her breasts. Logic faded completely as the euphoric fog deepened.

  Her eyes fluttered open, almost frightened to see the look on his face. He was concentrating on his fingers, watching them skate over her heated flesh as if this was the most important thing he’d ever done. His touch glided figure-eights around her breasts, coming closer to the center with each sweeping pass.

  Morrigan moaned, overwhelmed by the passion she felt for him. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. He was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and being a star-traveling rep
orter she’d seen a lot.

  Her hands disobeyed his order to be still and rose to touch him. As her fingers met hot flesh, his hand stopped and he looked up with a challenging light in his eyes. Morrigan quickly lowered her hands back to her sides. His fingers moved again, resuming their painstaking task.

  The glowing crystal pulsed between them, giving off an energy that joined them. Just as his path would have taken him directly over the peaked buds awaiting him, his hand changed course, dipping over her stomach.

  Morrigan tried to fight it, but couldn’t stop the small whimper of denied passions as it sneaked past her throat. Her fingers twitched uncertainly. Her breath came in pants. She felt as if she was drowning in a pool of turbulent sensations. He was dragging her under the tide of his passion, but she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to. She was his prisoner and, for the moment, nothing else mattered.

  “Ualan,” she whispered. Morrigan trembled, uncertain of what to expect. She only knew she didn’t want him to stop.

  * * *

  The soft, feminine sound of confusion and surrender was more than the war-hardened Draig prince could resist. Ualan looked his fill of her naked form. His gaze took in her brightly painted toenails, her smooth legs, her athletic thighs, the divot of her navel, her strong hips, her lovely breasts, and slender arms. The soft dark hair of her nether region was cropped short and shaved into a narrow line that guarded her opening like a tiny regiment of soldiers defending a fortress. Oh, how he would enjoy ramming through that gate and conquering the softness within.

  Mmm, and when her embarrassment had caused her to turn her back to him, he’d thoroughly enjoyed the view of her ass. It was all he could do to keep from tossing her on the bed and forsaking tradition. For a woman who claimed to have had many men, she wasn’t acting like it. Later, when the ceremony was over and they could speak more freely, he would have to teach her the dangers of lying to her husband. But for now…

  What had started as a show of power quickly turned into a lesson in self-deprivation. He had to concentrate to keep from consuming her. Gripping her hair, he forced her head back, thrusting her breasts up for the delight of his lips. His mouth came down to flick the tip of a nipple. He thought to only get a hint of what would come with marriage. But he soon discovered one taste was never enough. Like a drunkard craving ale, he tasted her again. His mouth opened, taking a delicious nipple into its depths, swirling it with the rough texture of his tongue, nipping it with his teeth.

  “Ah.” Morrigan shivered in response.

  Ualan kept distance between their bodies, but all the while his mouth trailed kisses, moving over the valley of her breasts to give ample attention to the other side. When she trembled violently against him, he grinned against the creamy globe and pulled her closer.

  He groaned, a low animalistic sound against her warm flesh. The dragon inside him was pleased by this course. His hands discovered the firm pleasure of her derrière as he held her stomach tight to the hard ache of his erection. When he dipped his hips down, the base of his cock pressed dangerously close to that guarded entrance. The searing heat he felt radiating against his balls made him do it again, just a little deeper.

  Morrigan froze, as if suddenly afraid of his body’s demands. She started to pull away, as if the fire was too much for her innocent mind to process. He gripped her tighter, refusing to let her get away. Releasing her breast, he claimed her mouth in a swift, passionate embrace. Kissing her with the same fervor he had shown her chest, he tasted her lips before delving beneath the surface to suck her tongue into his mouth.

  If he didn’t stop he would push it too far. He dipped his hips again. Naked flesh to his cock urged him to find a frantic release.

  He couldn’t.

  He mustn’t.

  As abruptly as he started his full assault on her body, he ended it. Quickly pulling away, he grabbed his loincloth and wrapped it around his waist before she could even think to protest. He breathed hard, fighting with everything he had to remain strong. In that moment, he knew the gods planned to truly test him.

  Morrigan blinked in confusion. Yes, she was not as worldly as she would have him believe.

  “Dress,” he commanded softly, needing to hide her nakedness from view. A man could only withstand so much.

  * * *

  A cold chill swept Morrigan as she watched him avoid her direct gaze. His breath was calming faster than hers and within moments he didn’t look at all affected by what had transpired between them. In contrast, her body stung with the unfulfilled and burning ache he’d left her with. She couldn’t possibly begin to explore herself, to take care of her own needs, with him staring at her dispassionately like that. With a long, irritated growl, she began gathering the Qurilixian gown from the floor. Slipping it over her body, she left the belt ties off her arms so she could move more freely.

  Combing her fingers through her hair, Morrigan searched for a hair tie. Not finding anything of use, she tied the locks into a giant knot at the nape of her neck to hold it from her face and off her heated neck. She refused to look at him until she had finished. When she turned around, he was gone.

  Chapter 6

  Ualan stormed through the encampment, too irritated to remain in his tent. His arms tingled with the desire to find a sword and lop off his bride’s frustrating, albeit beautiful, head. His lesson was finished. Any more and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. The smell of her passion filled his head. But the law was strict. Until the women chose, the men could not push it further than he already had. Surely, once he explained her refusal to choose, he would be pardoned for beheading her.

  Actually, he knew better. Even now if she wanted, she could demand justice for his abandoning her in their tent and put him on guard duty for a month in the lowest level of dungeons. It was a dreaded task, often used as a punishment for small offenders. Spending such a long time in the dark was hard on those used to this bright planet—not because they were afraid, for they could see very well in the dark, but because the blue sun nourished them and gave them life.

  “This is no place to be on the bridal night,” came an amused chuckle. “How do you expect to woo her if you aren’t near her? In case you forgot, prince, she’s supposed to take the mask off your face, not leave it on.”

  Ualan stopped and turned to study a pair of beast-like green eyes shining at him. Agro was dressed in the traditional tunic and breeches of their people. It was an old style, one the men felt no reason to change. It worked well in combat and in practice.

  Ualan’s jaw tightened in irritation, as he looked over his good friend. The man’s eyes dipped down over the prince’s oiled skin and loincloth in amusement. Ualan stepped forward, his eyes daring the man to laugh.

  “I take it she hasn’t chosen,” Agro said smoothly, and with a curl of knowing humor to his beard-covered lips.

  Ualan’s fist tightened in response. He was not allowed to speak.

  Agro was already married and seemed to be enjoying the pleasures of the feast, as was evident by the drunken glaze in his eyes. But Ualan wasn’t fooled. He knew well that Agro’s senses were sharp.

  “Your dragon is showing, prince,” Agro warned. “Remember, the unchosen brides don’t know we are shifters. It’s your father’s decree that we keep it this way.”

  Ualan made a small growl of discontentment. He wanted to shift and run into the forest. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so emotional.

  “She will never be able to choose with you out here,” the man offered his sage advice as he started to move past. Then, suddenly, he stopped and smirked. Ualan knew Agro couldn’t help himself. “By all that’s sacred, you’re an ugly man, Ualan. Get back to the tents before you scare off our women, too.”

  Ualan grinned wickedly at the taunt. A fight would do much to restore his good humor. He might not be able to speak, but he could act. Balling his hand into a fist, he rewarded Agro with a swift punch to the face.

  The man stumbled back before nodding once. He gave a
wide grin. “All right, then, little prince. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  * * *

  Morrigan was furious. How dare he touch her like that and then leave as if it were no big deal? But, more than her fury, she was humiliated by the treacherousness of her body. One incredibly sexy look and she had crumpled to his demands, following his order like a Kintok sex slave.

  Dress, she fumed. I’ll show you dressed, you big, overbearing caveman!

  Satisfied that Ualan would not be coming for her again anytime soon, Morrigan crept to the tent’s opening. It was still dark out, but she knew this night would last longer than the nights on New Earth. That was why the Draig had chosen it for their Breeding Festival. She remembered it vaguely from her uploads—something about the moonlight making them aroused or some such nonsense. There might have been more data about it on the ceremony upload, but that’s the one she skipped. The other facts were still hard to sort through in her mind and took a little concentration to recall.

  So much for accurate uploads from Galaxy Brides, she mused bitterly. Ualan had hardly looked aroused by her, at least not to the extent she had been by him. It shamed her to remember it. I should write a piece on inaccurate uploads provided to potential brides, and expose the cretin who made those things as a fraud who knows nothing about planetary or cultural facts.

  To Morrigan’s surprise, she heard moans of pleasure still coming from various tents around the encampment. It would seem Qurilixian men were certainly insatiable, when they chose to be. She felt an unwanted stirring and an urge to turn around for just one more taste of Ualan’s passions.

  “What is the matter with me?” Morrigan hissed to herself, comforted by the sound of her own voice. She would not put herself through that humiliation again. A loud scream of ecstasy pierced the air and she grimaced. “Galaxy Brides, my ass. More like Galaxy Sluts. All right, focus Morrigan, you have got to gather information—anything you can use to fluff up this romantic piece and make Gus happy.”