Wyvern’s Outlaw

by Deborah Cooke

  Ryke scoffed. He couldn’t help it. “A fiction,” he said and immediately saw that they’d found a point of disagreement.

  “Then the sooner we part the easier it will be,” Anguissa concluded and continued ahead of him. “I knew an umbro couldn’t be my HeartKeeper. Glad to have that resolved.”

  Ryke felt his eyes narrow. “What makes you think you can be the one to decide?” he demanded as he strode after her.

  Anguissa laughed. “I always choose my destiny.”

  “No.” Ryke shook his head. “When it involves me and my child, I’m the only one with the right to choose.” He gave her an intent look, but knew better than to hope for an easy agreement.

  “The right to choose?” Anguissa echoed, her tone thoughtful. “Why does that sound important?”

  “Because it is, obviously.”

  “Why?”

  Ryke spun to confront her. “I choose my destiny and that of everyone bonded with me. It’s not complicated, Snake-Eyes.”

  “But what gives you that power?”

  “It’s my birthright,” he admitted without meaning to do so.

  Anguissa regarded him with curiosity. “What birthright? Who are you, Ryke? A king among umbros?” She ran her fingertips over the inside of her left arm and frowned. He realized she had a thin screen mounted there, adhered to her skin, but it wasn’t illuminated.

  Did she intend to research him?

  It was Ryke’s inclination to end the conversation, but he had an idea. Maybe he could spark that curiosity of hers, by not answering many questions, and ensure that Anguissa stayed with him. It wouldn’t work for long, but it might work for long enough.

  He turned away from her and continued to the canteen. “I told you my name. If you want to know more, you should come to Centurios with me.”

  Anguissa laughed so hard that he glanced back. “Oh, Ryke, Centurios is the last place in the universe I’ll ever go.”

  “But that’s where we’re going.”

  “No, that’s where you’re going. Not me. I have a personal policy of not visiting systems or planets where my kind are considered to be abominations that have to be exterminated.” She smiled. “How else do you think I managed to survive more than three hundred of years in command of a vessel?”

  Three hundred years?

  Ryke glanced back, intrigued. Had he met his match? “How old are you?”

  “Almost four hundred Incendium years. Three ninety-six, actually.”

  “How many children have you had?”

  “None.” She was impatient with the question. “I only just met you, Ryke, and you’re the Carrier of the Seed. It’s not that complicated.” She mimicked his earlier tone perfectly, her eyes sparkling. “I can explain it again if you like. Maybe more slowly.”

  “Let’s eat,” Ryke said crisply instead and turned to march to the canteen. How was it that Anguissa could both irritate him and entice him? She didn’t seem to take anything seriously, she teased him—which no one had ever had the audacity to do before—she defied him, and oh, she tempted him.

  If he hadn’t been starving, he might have cast her over his shoulder and gone back to the captain’s quarters, just to show her (again) who was in command.

  Once might have been enough to deliver the Seed, but it certainly hadn’t been enough to satisfy him.

  Of course, he’d been with the Gloria Furore for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Why didn’t you want any of them?” Anguissa called after him.

  Ryke knew exactly who she meant.

  “They were all princesses,” he muttered.

  “I’m good with princesses.” Anguissa clearly felt a little insulted. Ryke could hear it in her tone.

  Maybe that was why she riled him so much. Maybe it was a trait of dragon princesses. It certainly wasn’t a trait of the other princesses he’d known, all of whom had been languid, dumb, and disinteresting.

  Especially in contrast to Anguissa.

  “I’m not,” he said flatly.

  “And why was it up to you to choose, Mr. Birthright? Whose son are you?”

  Ryke was fed up. “I had the right to choose because that’s how Centurios works, Snake-Eyes!” he roared then wondered if she’d cry.

  Anguissa scoffed instead. “Men make all the decisions? I like the idea of your world less all the time. You definitely need drop me off somewhere else on the way. Food first, then the chart room.” She gave him a playful smile and entered the canteen, her hips swinging with a sensual promise that made Ryke hungry.

  And not for food.

  “You should remember that there are other advantages to staying on board,” he murmured when she was alongside him. He could smell her scent and feel the heat of her skin. It was easy to remember her wrapped around him, demanding more, and his body responded immediately to the memory.

  “Like?” She looked up at him, lips curved in a smile, eyes dancing.

  Daring him.

  Ryke seized her around the waist, picked her up and backed her into a wall. “Me,” he said with resolve. “I’ll be here.” He kissed her before she could reply, bending all of his will upon seducing her.

  Anguissa didn’t fight him.

  No, not this woman. She welcomed sensation and pleasure, and then demanded more. She melted with a little sigh of capitulation, then arched against him, seizing a fistful of his hair, rubbing herself against him, setting his very soul on fire. Her tongue did magical things to his resolve, like melting it. Ryke was beginning to wonder what it would be like to let Anguissa ride him, if it would be worth it to let her take command of their lovemaking, if he would survive the fire she would incite.

  But that would be wrong.

  It would be a violation of all he knew to be right.

  It would be, in fact, an abomination.

  No, she liked being taken just the way he did it. Hadn’t she begged for it? She might talk a lot of nonsense—probably just to provoke him—but she liked how he loved her just fine.

  He’d been right about that.

  Ryke broke their kiss and set her on her feet, knowing there was satisfaction in his expression as he looked down at her. Anguissa sighed, her lashes fluttering as she leaned against him in complete surrender.

  Ryke felt a glow of satisfaction. This was more like it. He was right. He knew what she wanted better than she did.

  “I choose you, and I will make it worth your while. Now, let’s eat.” He turned to stride into the canteen, confident that she would follow submissively behind.

  She’d admitted she was hungry, after all.

  Ryke’s expression was so smug that Anguissa couldn’t let the moment pass unchallenged. His kiss had been amazing, but the man needed a correction to his thinking if he believed she was going to be an obedient little female for whatever duration of time they were going to enjoy together.

  She lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t glimpse rebellion in her eyes. Her snakes hissed a little but he ignored them, seeing what he wanted to see.

  How like a man.

  Truth be told, she was disappointed in this side of his nature.

  When Ryke continued into the canteen, obviously expecting her to follow at his heels like a trained pet, Anguissa waited only a moment before she tackled him from behind. She tripped him, rolled him to his back and pinned him down on the floor of the canteen. Ryke was surprised and not entirely pleased.

  “Now, I choose,” Anguissa said before he could argue, then kissed him leisurely and thoroughly. This part of his nature worked just fine for her. She held him down, taking what she wanted, feasting upon him at her own leisure. She waited until she could feel the enthusiasm of his response, then lifted her head.

  “That’s how things work on Incendium, Ryke,” she informed him. “The royal family of dragon shifters chooses, and men do what they’re told.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she enjoyed provoking him. Ryke’s eyes flashed, but Anguissa rolled easily to her feet. “Clearly, we aren’t each other’s He
artKeepers and shouldn’t even risk visits to our respective worlds. Is there food or not?”

  She pivoted to find a stranger watching them from the other side of the canteen. He was tall and thin and remarkably pale. His hair was so blond as to be nearly silver, his skin was white and his eyes were as clear as water. She wasn’t sure they had a color at all.

  He looked a bit astonished by the sight of her.

  Anguissa smiled and stepped forward, offering her hand. “You must be Bakiel,” she said in the universal tongue.

  The man’s eyes widened and he took a step backward. Was it her imagination that he wavered a little, as if he was made of mist?

  “She’s a dragon shifter princess, Bakiel,” Ryke growled from behind her. “It’s easier to humor her, as you’ve just seen.”

  Bakiel hurried forward and took Anguissa’s hand, barely touching her before he retreated again. His hand had been cool and soft, so fragile that Anguissa had the sense that she could have crushed it easily.

  Maybe he sensed the same thing.

  Maybe that was why he was keeping his distance.

  “Your luxa?” he whispered to Ryke, who scowled.

  “No!”

  “What’s a luxa?” Anguissa asked. Bakiel averted his gaze but Ryke glared at her.

  “A myth.” He seated himself at the table and Anguissa loved that he looked both disoriented and a little disheveled. His eyes glimmered as he watched her and she guessed that he hadn’t liked that she’d tackled him in front of his friend.

  He should get used to it.

  What an unlikely pair Ryke and Bakiel were. She was struck that they appeared to be such opposites, but the bond between them was almost tangible.

  “Brothers?” she guessed. “Lovers?” Although the first seemed unlikely, she had a feeling the second would annoy Ryke if she said it aloud—which was why she had.

  He caught his breath and she hid her smile as he glared at her.

  “Friends,” Ryke said firmly, although it took him a moment to choose the word.

  Anguissa eyed him. There was more to this relationship than friendship, she could smell as much, and she was going to find out what it was.

  Whether Ryke wanted to confide in her or not.

  The way she saw it, she had to know more about Bakiel to know whether he was trustworthy. It was a matter of self-defense.

  Maybe he had recoiled because he was from Centurios—where her kind were abhorred.

  Or maybe there was more.

  To Ryke’s relief, Bakiel was awake and, just as Ryke had hoped, his old friend was cooking. Bakiel could do magic with provisions and when he was on Centurios, his culinary skills were completely unsurpassed.

  That wasn’t Bakiel’s official role in Ryke’s life, of course, but it was a welcome talent. When Ryke came out of a slip, he was always ravenous. Bakiel had made an art of cooking while standing guard.

  Ryke was glad that Bakiel didn’t look any worse for wear after his time in stasis. As far as he could see, his custo hadn’t been injured in any way, either, which had been his fear all these years. Bakiel was several years older than Ryke, born to a lower caste, but they’d known each other almost all their lives—they’d been bonded young, and become friends, too.

  “I knew you’d turn up hungry,” Bakiel said by way of greeting. “The universe revolves around certainties such as this.” He’d put the stew into zero-gee modules, probably because he wasn’t sure of Ryke’s plans. Bakiel hated a mess. Ryke appreciated that, but would have preferred eating from a bowl.

  Soon enough, he’d be back on Centurios, with Ryko Primus, and be able to indulge in all its familiar pleasures.

  What about the pleasure of Anguissa’s company? Ryke had a feeling he might be living without that, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  He had to change her mind.

  Somehow.

  Was she telling him the truth about the Seed? It seemed incredible, but then, the universe was full of facts that were hard to believe.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked Bakiel.

  “Well enough. It was chilly, and I had some weird dreams, but hey, all is good.” Bakiel held up his hands. “Seven years later and I’ve only aged a couple of minutes. Who can argue with that?” He eyed Ryke. “You didn’t...”

  Ryke interrupted him before he could finish the question. “Never without you, my friend.”

  Bakiel was visibly relieved. Anguissa’s curiosity was almost tangible. Bakiel nodded toward her. “Another concubine?”

  Anguissa straightened and her snakes hissed, which didn’t surprise Ryke one bit. Bakiel retreated in obvious alarm.

  “Princess Anguissa,” Ryke said, pointing to her. “Bakiel,” he told her, indicating his friend.

  “She’s almost as pretty as Mareeqa.” Bakiel said, as if Anguissa wouldn’t be able to hear or understand him. Ryke could have wished for that.

  “Almost?” Anguissa echoed quietly, her snakes hissing a little louder as they writhed in agitation. “And who is or was Mareeqa?”

  Ryke glared at Bakiel, who wasn’t going to answer anyway. He was staring at Anguissa. Ryke doubted his friend had ever seen anything like those snakes. Or maybe he’d never confronted a woman who was so forthright.

  “It’s not important,” Ryke said tightly.

  “It or she?” Anguissa asked, her gaze simmering.

  Ryke didn’t answer. He was well aware that Anguissa was simmering. She wasn’t used to being denied anything. On one hand, he figured it would be good for her to learn that she wasn’t in charge everywhere.

  On the other hand, any denial or perceived insult might convince her to leave him more quickly.

  Ryke’s gut clenched at that prospect.

  “She,” he replied, then turned to Bakiel as Anguissa’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you make?” He had to hope his questions about Anguissa would have better answers when he wasn’t so hungry.

  Bakiel served Ryke with an apologetic shrug. “I found pretty much everything for the stew, even the spices. I know you hate the tubes, but a person only has to clean dinner out of a ventilation system once to never want to do it again.”

  Ryke took a taste, not surprised to find it delicious. “It’s great. You always could improvise better than anyone else. Thanks, Bakiel.”

  “Are concubines and princesses to be seen and not heard?” Anguissa asked. “Are they permitted to eat in the company of a man with such a birthright?”

  Bakiel was clearly startled by her tart tone. He looked between Anguissa and Ryke, obviously not knowing what to do.

  But then, he was from Centurios.

  “Women eat last on Centurios,” Ryke explained.

  Anguissa shook her head. “Tell me again why you thought I’d want to visit your home planet?”

  “Because I choose for you to do so.”

  Anguissa smiled and folded her arms across her chest. “So I can meet Mareeqa?”

  “Oh, that won’t happen,” Bakiel said under his breath, falling silent when Ryke gave him a poisonous glance.

  Ryke stood, abandoning his meal, and prepared another portion for Anguissa. He set it down on the table and resumed his place. He could feel Bakiel’s astonishment. “Sit,” he invited Anguissa. “Eat.”

  “I might be too overwhelmed by your gallantry,” she said.

  “You’re probably too hungry for that.”

  “You’re right,” she said, flashed him a smile, then sat down and began to eat. “This is delicious,” she said to Bakiel, who watched her warily. “Thank you very much.”

  “Is she talking to me?” Bakiel asked.

  “She’s not talking to the food storage unit,” Ryke replied. “I don’t think it’s smart enough to reply, and she doesn’t like robots or automatons anyway.”

  “Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” Anguissa asked. “Why wouldn’t I thank you?”

  “Princesses don’t talk to anyone other than their keepers,” Bakiel said. “And my caste is only qualified to serve...
”

  Ryke cleared his throat.

  “Ryke’s caste,” Bakiel concluded hastily.

  “And what is Ryke’s caste?” Anguissa asked. He supposed it was predictable that she picked out the most important detail so easily. “King of the umbros?”

  Bakiel’s eyes widened again.

  “It’s not important,” Ryke said, surprised to find that Anguissa said the words along with him. Bakiel was watching them, obviously both fascinated and shocked. “Flame Thrower,” he added.

  “Soul Stealer,” she replied.

  “Fire Face.”

  “Host Killer.”

  “Worm Scale.”

  “Shadow Vermin.” Anguissa looked up. “Worm Scale?”

  “Not my best choice.”

  “No. You’re losing your touch, Ryke. Maybe it’s food deprivation. You’d better eat up.”

  Ryke indicated Anguissa to the startled Bakiel. “This princess is a bit different from the ones you’ve known before.”

  Bakiel had apparently been struck dumb. He was watching the snakes of her hair, seemingly mesmerized.

  “Call me Anguissa if it’s easier for you,” she invited. “Or Snake-Eyes.”

  Ryke almost smiled at that.

  Bakiel swallowed. “Do they bite?”

  “Only when I’m really angry. I doubt I could ever get sufficiently annoyed with you, but Ryke has already been bitten a couple of times. It’s his gift.”

  “She likes me,” Ryke told Bakiel.

  Bakiel grinned at Anguissa’s snort of disdain.

  “We don’t have castes on Incendium,” Anguissa said when Bakiel remained standing. Obviously she’d noticed his deferential manner. “Come, sit, eat. Ryke will get over it. He’s already eating with a woman and a princess, after all.”

  Bakiel hesitated only a moment, then came to sit opposite them. He didn’t serve himself anything to eat. “Aren’t there dragon shifters on Incendium?” he asked.

  “You’re talking to one,” Anguissa said with a smile. “If you ever need something roasted a little more, Bakiel, just let me know.”

  “I couldn’t allow it,” he said quietly. “Not for Ryke’s food.”

  Anguissa looked between the two of them, inviting an explanation.