Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition

by Michelle M. Pillow

  But saying it was harder than actually doing it. Unlike her other assignments, there was no clear person to interview. She had no idea who the royalty were or if they had even attended. The Qurilixian clearly didn’t believe in crowns or purple flowing robes—rather loincloths—to mark their aristocracy, so there was no pointed sign reading, “Here, look here, this is a prince.” For all she knew, the princes were amongst the ones who hadn’t taken a bride back to their tents. They could all be at home getting drunk and watching each other grow old. Not that she could blame them. None of the women on the spaceship seemed like royalty material to her—herself included.

  Moving through the pyramids, Morrigan tried to make her way around to the married couples. But, when the tall throne chairs came into view, she was met with disappointment. No one was left at what she would have called the thrones. Sighing in frustration, she crept closer.

  “Ah! Ah!”

  Morrigan jolted in alarm at the high-pitched screech, her heart squeezing in her throat, only to relax as she realized the sound came from inside a nearby tent. In frustration, she shook her head.

  Concentrate! she scolded herself.

  Then, from the side of the bonfire, Morrigan heard a sultry laugh of a woman followed by the growl of a man. She crept forward in the shadows, careful to stay hidden from view.

  A healthy specimen of female beauty came rushing forward, taunting her naked lover with her bared charms. Laughing, she threw back her head and made her way to one of the chairs before the fire. The man growled again, swiftly stalking her with unrefined, animalistic stealth.

  Morrigan gasped. Her breath deepened as she watched the couple begin to make love before the flames. She couldn’t take her eyes away, though she knew she should. It was morally forbidden, what she was doing. But it was also erotic and dangerous and thrilling. Her blood began to stir and rush. Her flesh began to tingle and heat. Her lips went dry, eager for Ualan’s kisses to wet them once more.

  The man caressed the woman’s skin in long strokes. His fingers tested her wetness. His lips savored her small breasts, worshiping. Then, turning, the woman braced her hand on the chair so her lover could enter her from behind. The man held back, biting and licking the flesh of her backside.

  “Oh,” another moan from a tent.

  “Argh,” this time it was a man from across the encampment.

  “Mmm,” Morrigan bit her lips. Her body flamed. Her head spun in circles until she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think beyond her passionate flesh and churning desires, dizzy—so dizzy. It was as if a spell had been cast and she was the sorry recipient of it. What was happening to her? Her body was going crazy with passion and fire. The sexual tension was so thick that she imagined she could smell it.

  True, before tonight, she had been on assignment in some of the most dismal of places, with creatures no human could possibly be attracted to. Her work often kept her from her own kind, making relationships impossible, except with other journalists who she had vowed never to become involved with.

  The rare times she was on New Earth, she was always researching or uploading planetary facts into her brain, readying herself for her next assignment. Lack of personal experience didn’t mean she was ignorant. It didn’t mean she didn’t know. Out of all she had borne witness to, Ualan was the first man she had met that had ever stirred her senses to wakefulness, had brought her from one dream into another. And he did it all with very few, low-toned, blood-stirringly erotic words.

  Come. Choose.

  As Morrigan watched from her place crouched within the shadows, the man stood behind the woman. He grabbed her hips. Morrigan unconsciously touched her breast. Her heart pounded beneath her fingers. Inching with aggravating slowness, the man entered his lover. The woman gasped sharply and threw glorious waves of red-brown hair over her shoulder at him. The man grabbed the locks, using them to control her to his passion.

  Unexpectedly, Morrigan felt a caressing hand on her arm. She shivered, instinctively knowing it was Ualan come to fetch her back to his tent. She didn’t move, dazed as her eyes strayed to the thrusting man’s buttocks, her ears jealous of the woman’s cries of passion.

  Ualan pulled on her arm, forcing her to stand. She kept her back to him as his lips found her earlobe. The leather mask brushed her neck. The soft breeze swept over her heating skin. The thrusting man’s passions became louder and more claiming as he moved forcefully behind his screaming lover.

  Ualan did not pull her back, allowing her to watch, not judging her for it. His people clearly were not inhibited when it came to such things. He continued to kiss her skin, nip at her earlobe and lick at her rapid pulse. His own eyes strayed to the couple. His hand fell from Morrigan’s arm, not restraining her to him, but for the tantalizing motion of his lips on her skin.

  “How?” Morrigan asked, breathless. She couldn’t finish the thought as her hips started to mimic a light thrusting of their own accord. But they were frustrated for they thrust against air not solid, scorching man-flesh. How are you doing this? How are you controlling me?

  Ualan misunderstood the weak question, and answered, “My crystal will always find you.”

  Morrigan pressed her ass back into his erection. She felt the fur covering him and hated it because it kept him from her. The night was filled with passion, with unforeseen magic. It pulsed around the encampment, through the long night of the festival. It was in the air. It was in every fiber of Morrigan’s body, until she thought, it doesn’t matter. Tonight it doesn’t matter. Take whatever Ualan offers. Take it, live it, and then keep it secret. No one will ever know. Take it. Take. Choose.

  As the fornicating couple climaxed, Morrigan closed her eyes, forgetting what she had sworn to moments before. She wanted Ualan to finish what he’d started. Maybe then she could think clearly. Desperately, she beseeched him, “Take me back to the tent, Ualan. Please, take me back.”

  Ualan growled, turning her tenderly so he could lift her into his arms. He did it easily, his muscles folding protectively around her. The crystal still glowed, but she ignored it. She didn’t care if all they felt was its magical effects. Tonight, she would forget her logical approach to everything and believe in magic.

  He did not kiss her as he walked, instead choosing to study her intently. Morrigan read a myriad of emotions on his face—the most predominant was passion. But, beyond that, hidden behind his eyes was a searching, a longing and an ache she could feel inside her breasts as if it was her own.

  Chapter 7

  Once back in the tent, Ualan set Morrigan down in front of him. He lifted his hand to her face, sweeping across the soft features. His gaze dipped to her breasts, watching them heave with each delighted breath. A wicked smile came to his lips and she suspected he contemplated punishing her for trying to escape him yet again. The idea sent chills over her.

  Slowly, he stalked her, forcing her to back away. Morrigan glanced at the bed, ready for him to finally end this dance and take her. He forced her past the silken paradise that the bed offered. She touched him, but he brushed her fingers aside. Keeping his gaze fixed steadily on her, he continued to walk her back until Morrigan’s legs bumped into the edge of the bondage throne.

  Ualan’s wicked smile broadened. His fingers moved from her cheek, down her neck to the pulse beating beneath her flushed skin. With a rip, he pulled her gown from her body, exposing her to his whim. Morrigan’s nipples peaked at the rough brush of material. He didn’t touch them, refusing to answer their beckoning call.

  With a firm shove, he pushed her naked body onto the throne. His power excited her. Morrigan panted for breath, unable to stand once he towered so commandingly over her. This was his game and he was in control. Part of her wanted to fight him, to resist, but she was weak, a prisoner to his whims.

  Ualan leaned close to her face, his hot breath caressing her skin as he moved his lips just beyond her flesh’s aching reach. The strangely erotic feel of smoothed wood, carved to mold the shape of her ass, caught her
by surprise and she gasped as it teasingly spread her cheeks.

  Ualan’s tickling breath continued lower, over her chin, down her jaw, between her breasts. His lips drifted over a ripe nipple, teasing it with a feathery kiss that sent a shockwave of passion through Morrigan’s limbs. She lifted off the throne, only to settle once more out of fear that he would stop.

  His breath continued to tease her. Her neglected breast arched as he neared it, ready and waiting for a reward like the other had received. It was left wanting. Morrigan groaned as her hips pressed down on the throne. Her eyes sought his. She lifted her fingers to grab his hair and force him to her.

  Ualan held back. With the swiftness of a striking snake, his fingers curled around her wrists and brought them hard to the arms of the chair. He held them there as she struggled. All the time he breathed on her, the hot, feathery fanning torment.

  When she understood him enough to stop struggling, Ualan blew lower, over her ribs, across her flat stomach, around her contracting navel. Her legs spread, wanting him lower. His hands held her wrists hard to the throne, making it impossible to fight. Not that she could. Morrigan tensed her legs, waiting for him to get just low enough so that she could wrap him to her and force him to touch her.

  To her agony, he did touch her. But it was not as she would have him. His tongue edged out from his firm lips—so slow, so distressing, so very painful to watch. She couldn’t look away. Her mouth opened wanting to feel his lips for itself.

  With a tender lick that she felt in every concentrated nerve, he slid his tongue into her navel. Morrigan yelped, her body alighting with fierce excitement. Her legs worked, trying to find a hold over his shoulder, only to be blocked by the arms pinning her down.

  Ualan’s tongue licked downward in a direct path to her seeking pussy. His tongue met the top arch only to circle around to the side. Morrigan protested, thinking she was about to die from the torture. He withdrew his tongue only to dart it forward freshly wetted. He traced the indent where her thigh met her sex. Morrigan tried to squeeze his head, desperate to control the controller. Sweat beaded her skin. She breathed hard, trembling and gasping, so close, so very close and yet she still couldn’t reach that ending she sought.

  Her tormentor growled, pulling back from her. Morrigan was instantly sorry for her actions and she tried to repent by letting her legs fall back to the sides where he’d put them. Even so, how could he expect anything less? It would have been easier if he bound her limbs, instead of making her decide to behave.

  Morrigan’s closed her eyes, trying to find some piece of sanity that would explain why his hand left her. She didn’t dare move. Keeping as he wanted her, she peeked from lowered lashes. Ualan stood proudly before her with his fur loincloth pooled at his feet. The length of his naked cock towered before her. He was shameless, waiting patiently for her gaze to make the journey back up his oiled body.

  “Are you ready to choose?” he questioned when she finally met his eyes.

  Morrigan took in his athletic form, feeling very much the hunting lioness about to pounce. She didn’t answer with words, hoping he would accept her stillness as a response.

  His was a body formed of hard work and exercise, not enhanced by machines. There was vitality to him, a power and control she had not seen in other men. He was the proud warrior, the conqueror. And by the look in his eyes, he would soon be her conqueror.

  There was also a tenderness in his expression and a searching that contradicted the warrior-barbarian in him. Gently, he kissed her mouth, rubbing his lips over hers in a soft caress. Morrigan couldn’t help herself. She moaned lightly against him.

  Ualan pulled back and continued to study her for a long moment, his eyes taking in her every hitched breath. Morrigan had to look away, unable to understand the questions and emotions she found there.

  Leaning over, Ualan picked her gown from the ground, stroking it several times in a way that made her wish it was her body he held. He then ripped the material apart, tearing it beyond use. Morrigan shivered. Without her clothes, she would not be able to leave him again. She was his prisoner.

  Still caressing the material in his large hands, he came forward. His eyes stayed steady on his captive as he laid the material on her lap. Morrigan gasped as it brushed her heated skin. Then, taking a fine strip from the top of the pile, Ualan brought it to her prone wrist. His naughty smile sent chills over her. With a few deft movements, he tied her arm to the chair.

  When he had tied her other wrist in the same manner, he stood. Morrigan tried to lift her hands, but the bonds were too tight. When she remained where he wished her to stay, he nodded in approval of his work.

  Had she really wanted to be tied down moments before? She thought about screaming, of protesting, of doing any number of logical things. Yet, instead she silently watched him as he circled the bondage chair. Her neck strained as she tried to turn, but he again disappeared beyond her view.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, breathless. “What are you doing?”

  Suddenly, a blindfold was placed over her eyes from behind. Darkness surrounded her as he tied it behind her head. She listened for him, trying to see where he was, trying to sense if he looked at her. Then, a soft crack of a whip resounded behind her head. Morrigan jumped, thrilled and frightened. Her heart beat in erratic waves. Her mind swam with raw emotions. The whips cracked again, to her side, smacking loud against the wood like a hand to flesh.

  Morrigan tensed, waiting for the feel of a strap to her helpless skin. Her eyes closed beneath the blindfold. The whip snapped again and again. Each time she jumped, sure that it drew closer to her anticipating flesh.

  Crack!

  The loud snap came next to her arm, not touching her. She jumped, straining against her binds.

  Whoosh—crack!

  It sung through the air to land behind her head. She jolted.

  With each hit, her body grew tauter. The wood pressed into her ass—hard and unforgiving. Her body arched, strained from anticipation and fear. Then, gradually she felt a brush against her flesh. It wasn’t the beating she had expected. Her mouth shot open in surprise. She could not see Ualan but she could feel the tickle of his whip as he dangled it over her flesh.

  Achingly slow, the tip was dragged over a nipple. Morrigan whimpered, panted, cried out softly. The fight left her until she was completely under his spell. Nothing else mattered but his will for her. She was tired of being in control, wanted to be free from decisions, so she let him decide for her. Who wanted to think through the sensual fog that now drifted through her mind? From beyond her touch-focused brain she thought she heard him chuckle—a sultry sound, dominating and demanding.

  The whip tapped and stroked her flesh. It brushed her thighs, kissed her feet. Then, as he drew it away another smack sounded. A gush of wind blew around her thighs as the whip crashed between them on the wood. Morrigan moaned, liking the tiny vibration this action caused between her legs. She stiffened, too scared to move lest she get in the whip’s way, but eager for him to do it again.

  Sweat beaded on Morrigan’s body. Images and bright colors swam in her brain, carrying thoughts of forbidden passion, of thrusting men upon their women, of women riding hard atop their men, of nails scratching into flesh, of Ualan’s fingers curling around her. Moisture gathered in her sex, wet and hot as her body begged for his touch.

  When she did not protest his actions, he became bolder in his game. With a light smack he struck the whip against her calf. It stung the flesh but was not hard enough to hurt her. Leisurely, he slapped her other leg, moving to whack upon her thighs. The whip’s hard kiss brought the blood to her flesh, making it tingle and burn with excitement. Next, the whip snapped her stomach. Morrigan arched her breasts, wanting them to be next. He did not disappoint her. The whip hit her nipples, both at the same time. Its stringy tip felt like the slap of countless fingers.

  “Yes,” Morrigan groaned, past her earlier embarrassment, urging him onward.

  The whip s
truck her breasts again, this time more firmly.

  “Ah, yes,” she panted, past the point of caring who heard her.

  He smacked her stomach, following it with quick succession of blows to her parted thighs. The tips wrapped around her legs. Her hips jerked with each commanding blow.

  “Ualan,” she pleaded. Morrigan was beyond anything but the feelings he gave to her. “Please, oh, please.”

  * * *

  Very pleased with her response, Ualan lightly hit her again. The other women in the campground had been making such desperate noises. This fact gave him hope. Finally, she was coming around to accepting him.

  Morrigan moaned louder. He watched her body strain and tense. With her blindfolded, he didn’t bother to keep the subtle shift of gold out of his eyes.

  Hearing his name on her lips, pleading for him to come to her, Ualan paused. It was almost more than he could bear. Unable to resist, he struck her heated center with his torturous pleasure. The blood rushed to the nub swollen with desire. Her hips bucked hard, spasming with the intense scream of a quickly approaching orgasm. Her body trembled. If he struck her again, she would continue up the rocky path of her climax.

  But he did not strike. She was denied release. Ualan sat back on his heels to watch her. She waited, her body tensed and poised. Her mouth opened as if waiting for that moment she could give a climaxing scream. All Draig men knew this was to be a hard night, perhaps one of the hardest in their lives. Self-denial wasn’t something that came easy to a naturally assertive people. He wasn’t finished disciplining her yet. Before he gave her the gift of release, his little bride would know who controlled her, she would know she belonged completely to him.

  Ualan tossed the whip aside. Kneeling before Morrigan, he lifted her weakened foot into his hand. She squirmed, absently working her body as if trying to get the will to move but unable to. He found the flesh of her leg, caressing in long strokes. She shivered. His mouth lowered to her foot, kissing her toes before sucking one into his mouth.