Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition

by Michelle M. Pillow

  It looked as if she had been there for some time by the way the strands of her hair plastered to her forehead and neck in little trails. Her cheeks were flushed to a slight red. She still wore the outfit of the maid, which he had leisurely, and to his greatest masculine pleasure, dressed her in while she was out. It was either he did it himself or he ordered a servant to, and he’d already seen his wife naked.

  Still kicking her feet in the water, she angled her head as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Ualan put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raising high on his face in displeasure. Clearing his throat, he startled her on purpose.

  Morrigan jumped, spinning around to look at him. She smiled sheepishly, her eyes taking in his hard expression. She would have to be a fool to miss the anger seeping from his gaze.

  She smiled sweetly. “This is a pretty swank pad you got here, caveman.”

  Ualan narrowed his eyes in warning. “A what?”

  “Nice home,” she clarified.

  “It was.” He gave a small grunt of ill humor.

  “So are you rich or what, caveman?” she asked, blinking her wide innocent eyes at him.

  “Why does this matter?” Ualan grumbled. She had looked at him like that before. He would not be taken in by it again.

  “I want to know what I’ll be leaving behind when I go,” Morrigan purred, taking her time getting out of the tub. “Whew, that thing is better than a spa treatment on Quazer.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere, wife. You’re staying right here where you belong.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “With me.”

  “All right, caveman, calm down,” she soothed. Her eyes flashed with anger, but she held her temper back. “But you don’t know what you are getting yourself into.”

  She thoughtfully stepped onto a towel she had placed on the cold marble floor and let it dry the water from her feet.

  “Do you accept my authority?” He didn’t move, but hoped she’d just say yes and accept her role as his wife.

  “No,” Morrigan snorted, as if the very idea was laughable. Hands on hips, she carefully placed her feet into his slippers. They were overlarge on her feet, but were made of fur on the inside so he knew them to be warm. A strand of hair stuck to her forehead, plastered from the steam of the tub. She pushed it aside and waved her fingers before her face. “So, really, how much money do you have? I have a shopping spree in mind. I want to buy every frivolous thing I can get my hands on. Starting with a food simulator.”

  “I will provide for you. That is what you need to know.” He frowned at the rudeness. Money was not a wife’s concern. He would take care of her, as was his duty.

  “Hmm, so that would be no on the money then. Too bad, I need a loan to get me back to New Earth if you don’t have access to a bank base. Besides, you’re not much of a catch with no dowry, are you, caveman?” She smirked, as if she couldn’t resist calling him that. It seemed to give her satisfaction when she irritated him. “So, what do you do for a living anyway, oh mighty impoverished one?”

  “Quiet,” Ualan ordered with a slice of his hand.

  She quirked a brow and shifted the weight. It appeared the steam had also moistened the front of her maid’s uniform to her body and her nipples were beginning to bud. If he just reached out and…

  “What? You don’t have a job?”

  In his distraction, it took him a moment to process her words. His eyes darted up from her chest to stare at her in warning.

  “Don’t tell me we live with your parents. Ugh. No wonder you don’t want to let me leave. You’re not much of a catch at all.”

  “Enough,” Ualan commanded trying to keep the low growl out of his voice. Let her think what she wanted. “You make my head spin, woman.”

  She shrugged, her wide eyes seeming to say “sorry”.

  He wasn’t fooled.

  “Did you tell Mirox you were a slave?” he asked, remembering the main reason his stomach was heavy with stress.

  Morrigan tried to slide past him in his slippers, but he blocked her escape. For a moment it looked as if she might try to plow past him, but in the end she stepped back. “Yeah. What of it? I am, aren’t I? You’re keeping me here, forcing me to wear this uniform, forcing me to be in your home.”

  Ualan let loose a long string of Draig curses until he saw her silently repeating them as if trying to memorize them for herself.

  Wonderful, he thought sarcastically. That’s exactly what I need her to add to her already colorful vocabulary.

  Ualan took a deep breath. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t dare with his shaking hands. He wasn’t sure he would keep them from strangling the very life from her. “Very well, then. If that is your wish, so be it.”

  Morrigan instantly paled at his words. Clearly, she had expected a fight, not agreement. He started to relent, sure the stress of his position was showing in his tired eyes, but that is not how these situations were handled. He stiffened his jaw and turned away.

  “I will inform the queen of your decision,” he said over his shoulder. “Go grab your bags—if you can find them under this mess.”

  “Wait.” Morrigan chased after him. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him to a stop. He stiffened, looking at her hand before staring boldly into her eyes. Weakly, she asked, “What did I just do?”

  “You declared yourself a slave.” He gave a long drawn out sigh just to torture her a little. Her gaze dropped to his lips as if staring at the words would make the situation more understandable. “So I will give you to the queen. She will be pleased, she needs someone to cook for her guests and clean the castle. Though, I must insist you don’t do to her home what you have done to mine. Slaves who perform badly are thrown to the soldiers. It makes for good sport and it keeps the men’s spirits up. Though, they would be most happy to receive you—you being used to such attentions in your former employment. The other girl they have is getting pretty—how should I put it?—worn in.”

  Morrigan paled even more and he was surprised that such a thing was possible. She searched his face and he kept his expression serious. “Is that true? Are you lying to me?”

  Ualan tilted his head. “Didn’t Galaxy Brides give you the uploads on our ways? How else are all the men to find a woman if we don’t share the unattached ones?”

  “I didn’t get to them all,” she whispered.

  “It’s called research, slave. You know, studying up before you take on a new task so you know what you are getting yourself into,” he mocked, throwing her words from the night before back at her. The jibe was not lost. She balked. “Now, release my arm. I go to do as you wish. The queen will want you to start right away.”

  “Wait! I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to be a slave. Do you have to tell the queen about it? I take it back.”

  Ualan kept his back to her and let a devious smile cross briefly over his lips. He hid the expression before turning around to study her quizzically. After a long moment of contemplation, he uttered dispassionately, “You seem to take back your word quite a bit, slave. That will not please the queen.”

  “I meant it as an expression, like we use on New Earth. I didn’t mean it as a declaration of intent.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help you. You declared it to Mirox and he was duty bound to report it to the royal family. I am positive they already know.”

  “Ualan…” She gave a desperate pull of his sleeve. Her eyes pleaded with him for mercy.

  He waited for her to continue.

  “Can’t you help me? Isn’t there something you could do?”

  “Why should I? You have given me nothing but headaches. Look at what you did to my home. I should be so lucky to get rid of you.” Ualan began to turn from her.

  “What if I fix it?” she asked.

  His arms crossed thoughtfully over his chest, covering the dragon of his family crest. Slowly, he turned back to her. “What do you propose?”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do to get me out of being a royal slave?”


  “You can petition the royal courts, but that could take months,” he said thoughtfully. “With your ignorance of our customs, a pardon might be given.”

  “Months of cooking and cleaning an entire castle?” Morrigan recoiled, missing the vast amusement filtering in his gaze. She paced away from him in agitation. Her words were soft as if she talked more to herself than to him. She obviously didn’t know about his shifter hearing. “I’ll be sent to the soldiers within the hour. I can’t cook. What if I poison the royal family on accident? I’ll be hung for sure.”

  Her distress brought his battered ego much satisfaction, even as the rest of him felt sorry for her. She aggravated him so much, yet he still wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her. None of this made sense. He was a good man. Why did the gods give him this difficulty in marriage? He should be kissing her now, not scaring her.

  “Ualan?” Her face scrunched up and he could tell her next confession was causing her great pain. He widened his stance and lifted his jaw, not giving her an inch. “When I said I don’t clean and I don’t cook, I wasn’t making that up. I really can’t clean or cook.”

  He raised an eyebrow, doubtful.

  “No, really,” she insisted.

  She tried to take a step back to put more distance between them—or perhaps between herself and the front door. “I have three maid units and a backup in case one of them breaks. Every meal I’ve ever made was materialized in a food simulator and you don’t have those here, do you?”

  Ualan smirked, he couldn’t help himself.

  “I don’t even know what raw meat looks like, unless you count a cow grazing in the field on New Earth. I’ve never prepared a dish in my life.”

  “A person should know these things, Morrigan,” he stated seriously. His gaze dipped to the cords working in her neck.

  “I know. That is what I have been trying to tell you, Ualan. A woman who stays with you should know those things. I don’t. I haven’t the faintest clue. You don’t want me here. You can’t want a clueless wife. Can’t you just do whatever it is you need to divorce me and let me go on my way?”

  “You seem smart, slave.” Lifting his hand, he brushed a piece of hair from her cheek. She jumped a little in surprise at the contact. He drew back.

  “Thank you,” she said at the compliment.

  “Smart women can learn these things.”

  Morrigan gasped, her temper flaring when he didn’t give in to her. “You rotten—”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he scolded. “I have yet to give you your last option, slave. Be quiet or I will deliver you and your harsh tongue to the queen straightaway. Let her have you and your ill temper.”

  She scowled, but bit her tongue. Grumbling, she asked, “What is it?”

  “You can be my slave until the royal family will hear you speak.” Though he tried not to let it react, his body stirred at the words. The way the damp material of her gown clung to her chest revealed the subtle sweep of her nipple. He wished they could just reverse this day and go back to this morning. Even if that were possible, he wasn’t sure how he could change the course of these events.

  “Yours?” she prompted.

  “Yes. You would be allowed to stay here…with me.”

  Morrigan began to deny him with a shake of her head, but then evidently thought better of it. “What would I have to do?”

  The sexual implications of her question were very clear. Her eyes turned up to his bedroom and she visibly shivered.

  God’s bones, he wanted to say yes to that stipulation.

  “No, little rebel. You will not be permitted there. The bed is for a wife. Are you ready to be a wife?”

  Morrigan shook her head in denial.

  “Very well.” Ualan didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

  “Then you would have me where?” She glanced at the table and then at the couch.

  His mind answered silently with all the things a man like him could do to a beautiful, fiery temptress like her, and all the ways he could easily bend and lift her in lovemaking. The images made him tense as he tried to control the raging desire that had already lifted his cock beneath his tunic shirt. It seemed to point in her direction, begging its master to let him out to play.

  “Slaves are too low to take to bed. I cannot lower myself. Honor forbids it. Unless you agree that you are my wife and I your master husband, then there is nothing I can do…to you.”

  He felt the heat of his lust burning in his gaze when he looked her over. The maid uniform seemed a little too snug, but that wasn’t a bad thing as it clung to her curves.

  Morrigan’s cheeks pinkened at the inspection. “So if I agree to be your slave, then…?”

  “You will only have to clean my home and cook my meals, unless you choose to serve me in other ways. What was it you suggested, Rigan? Rubbing my feet?”

  “I told you,” she answered carefully. “I don’t know how to do those things. What happens if I make a mistake? What happens if I…what will you do to me?”

  “I will punish you.”

  “Oh. All right, I will do that.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll stay here and clean this up. How hard could this one room be?”

  “There is only one problem,” Ualan responded, stepping forward.

  Morrigan’s mouth opened, sucking in a deep breath. Her head was forced back to look at him as he towered over her.

  “You haven’t asked me if I wanted a slave,” he said in a low, sultry tone. “Your list of skills is very lacking. You might be more trouble than you are worth.”

  “Do you…?” Morrigan stared at his mouth again, her lovely eyes fixated on it. She began to lift up on her toes and lean toward him, but then held back.

  “Why would I consider it?” Ualan inched closer. His breath fanned over her neck and she shivered in response. “What would be in it for me?”

  “What do you want?” Morrigan closed her eyes. Her lips pursed slightly, begging to be kissed.

  “No,” he said softly, pulling away. It was hard denying her, denying himself. “I don’t know that you have anything I want.”

  Morrigan looked as if he’d slapped her.

  “I will give you a trial, slave, because I do not wish to embarrass my name with your mistakes before the queen.” Stepping away from her, he took up his sword and slid it into the scabbard at his waist. “Have my home clean by the time I get back tonight. Then we will speak more on it.”

  * * *

  Though he had not held her upright, Morrigan felt as if she was going to fall at his departure. She wanted to believe she acted like she wasn’t bothered by him, but in truth her heart stuck in her throat. Her skin stung with the memory of his intimate touches in the wedding tent.

  Ualan glanced back when he reached the front door. His gaze studied her so intently she felt as if she was on fire. The warm scent of him still lingered in the air around her, a cologne of soap and flesh. When he was near, she wanted to fall against his broad chest and be enfolded into his arms. When he spoke, his words were low and sultry, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her senses.

  Blast it all, but he was a fine barbaric specimen.

  She saw the piercing color of his blue eyes as he stared at her from the doorway. His gaze moved over his home, to the mess she had childishly made of it.

  Morrigan trembled and was almost sorry she’d destroyed his home. Almost. But what choice had he left her? Had she not had the unfortunate slip of the tongue to put the word “slave” into a ranting sentence, her plan might not have backfired.

  Now she had to clean it up. She grimaced to think of how she hated cleaning and cooking. She was terrible at it and had gotten lazy since she had maid units to pick up after her. Although this one home was certainly a better offer than the whole castle…

  Morrigan shivered. She had to figure this cleaning thing out or risk being thrown to the soldiers. Being made to repeatedly pleasure a regiment of warrior men wasn’t exactly her idea of a
good time. Better this handsome warrior than the whole Draig guard.

  Her hands trembled with the effort it took to hold back the memory of his mouth against her, of his whip teasing her flesh, of the unfulfilled ache that even now simmered below her skin’s surface. Without the mist of the crystal, she had no excuse to feel such a way.

  At the same time she was fighting the spine-tingling thrill of his nearness, she wanted to fight him. One look at his smug face and she wanted to irritate him. It was reckless and foolish and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. To get the story, confrontation was often a part of the job. Arguing and baiting was pretty much in a journalist’s genetic coding.

  Morrigan kicked at a stray tunic shirt near her foot and sent it flying to the wall. Well, the cleaning had to start somewhere. She kicked a stray boot in the same direction. “What in all the firepits was I thinking? I should never have gotten up from the feasting table. I should have taken my pictures, wrote the accursed romantic story, and left.”

  Chapter 12

  “Well,” the king asked of his son. They had been waiting anxiously for his return to the hall. Mirox still sat, pale and worried, on the lower seats, where he had been ever since he ran to inform the royal family of Ualan’s wife’s charge. “Did she indenture herself?”

  The main hall had steep, arched ceilings. The center light dome was larger than the one in his room. Lines of tables reached across the floor for dining. The red stone floor was swept clean and the hall was all but empty. Banners of the family crest lined the walls, one for each color of the family lines—blue-gray for Ualan, purple for his parents, and green, black and red for each of his brothers. Each had the silver symbol of the dragon. Seeing the dragon reminded him his position as a prince. Some days that burden seemed heavier than others. He wondered if marriage would be this hard if he’d been a simple farmer. Maybe then the gods wouldn’t have felt the need to test him.