“The chemicals combine when you shake them up and they force their container to expand or explode depending on what you use to contain them,” Ualan said. Plenty of Draig children had gotten in trouble for those pranks.
“Exactly. Just like that. Women are fine until they get shook and then they explode. It might be with anger. It might be tears. It might be some strange stealth warfare you don’t know is coming, but you’ll sit down to eat and she’ll have made your least favorite meal to punish you.”
“You mean shaken emotionally?” Ualan reasoned.
“And I mean literally.” Agro gave him a look that said he was confident in what he was saying. “It’s chemical. I think walking around the house can even do it if they have enough chemicals in them. Sometimes my wife will be doing wife stuff, like picking my boots off the floor or vigorously scrubbing mud out of my clothes, and all that shaking sets her off, and she explodes into a demon beast that takes after me with my own shoe.”
“Are you sure? This doesn’t sound…”
“Yes, I’m sure! The only reason why there aren’t more explosions is because men know how to take care of it naturally. I’m not surprised the king didn’t think to explain this to you. You’ve probably never seen it as a child because your mother is a dragon like us so she’s most likely not prone to extra emotions. But these humanoid women?” He gave a long, troubled sigh. “You have to carry those bombs softly, not barking orders at them and riling them up. I’m only telling you this because your wife is a slave, and you can’t diffuse her bomb properly so you might be confused as to what’s happening.”
“How do I diffuse it?”
“That’s the taking care of it naturally part,” Agro said. “You take her to bed and you shake and shake her until she pops the way you want her to. That’ll get all the chemicals out and trust me, she’ll be very happy and her mood will improve. If you keep taking your wife to bed on a very regular schedule and making sure she gets her pop at the end, you’ll have a very happy life. One word of caution though, if you smell bleeding, you’ll naturally want to get on top of that, but approach cautiously to diffuse and be ready to run cause...” He gave a low whistle and shook his head. “The bleeds are unpredictable times.”
Ualan hated to admit that the man’s words made sense. He was sexually frustrated and it affected his moods. He could just imagine what it was doing to Morrigan if she was predisposed to being chemically emotional like Agro explained.
Ualan nodded, feeling better. As he started to walk away, he saw his brother Zoran coming to disperse the men and command them back to practice. He gave him a quick nod but didn’t stop. Zoran nodded back.
“Hey, prince, what about eyes closed?” Agro cried to the merriment of the departing crowd.
Ualan stopped. Closing his eyes before he spun, he blindly threw the blades before he was even fully turned. Four landed in the pattern of a cross on the post, the last landed in between Agro’s feet. Agro jumped slightly back and let loose a hearty laugh. Ualan slowly opened his eyes, knowing the blades had made their target before he even looked. With a quiet nod, he thanked Agro for his council.
Agro smiled slightly before waving him away with an impish grin. Before Zoran could repeat his command, Agro gruffly yelled at the watching soldiers, “Ach now, you pups, back to work.”
Chapter 18
When Ualan emerged from his bathroom, his hair wet and his body wrapped in a towel, it was to the ringing of his wife’s laughter. Morrigan hadn’t greeted him when he came in the door and he didn’t even know if she realized he was home. For a moment, his heart soared at the sound. It was so light, so feminine. It left him longing to hold her. The knowledge that he couldn’t left his chest feeling hollow.
Looking up, he saw the dome curtains were closed to make his house dim. It would be approaching the evening hour, though outside the world would be cast with daylight, albeit, the hazier daylight of dusk. Drawing his hand past the torches as he walked, he absently lit them to cast a soft, romantic glow over the front hall.
Quickly moving to his bedroom to dress, he found he was excited to see Morrigan. Agro’s advice lingered in his head. He would not have thought of a softer control over the harder side he showed the fighting men. A softer handling. It was such a simple concept. Trust that a man already married would come up with it. The chemical theory was new to him, but it made sense. He knew he felt better when she’d given him release and was desperate to return the favor.
In one fluid motion, he tore the towel from his naked body. He scratched his stomach as he went to retrieve his clothes. Choosing a relaxed outfit of dark blue cotton, he tugged the shirt over his head and slid the loose pants over his hips. He tied the drawstring at his waist, not bothering with underwear. His house clothes were much more casual than the tunics he’d been wearing.
He took the stairs two at a time with his bare feet. As he neared the dining nook, his stomach growled. His meal was already laid out for him on the table.
Mirox was the first to leave the kitchen. Ualan smiled at the man. If the smell was any indication, he had done his job well. His smile faded when he saw the man’s expression. It was pale and drawn. Bowing before him, the servant whispered, “I apologize, my lord. If you must contemplate my punishment, please remember you did not inform me that her ladyship knew nothing about actual cooking, but only that I should instruct her how to prepare a traditional feast.”
Ualan watched, quizzical, as the servant quickly left his home.
Unable to resist, he stepped into the doorway of his kitchen. Morrigan was bent over wiping crumbs off the floor. Her luscious ass was to him, straining beautifully against the soft gray material of her gown. The passions of his dreams renewed themselves in full force. He must have groaned because she jolted in surprise and spun around. Having been caught staring, he shrugged, grinning like a greenknight.
Morrigan eyed him nervously. He pushed a strand of his wet hair back away from his face. For a long time she stood, barely breathing, barely moving. The bulk of her hair was tied into a knot at the base of her neck and he frowned, making a mental note to get her something prettier to hold back her locks. Ualan was the first to look away. He wondered what Mirox was so worried about. His kitchen was as spotless as when she started and it smelled of food.
“I put the food on the table,” she said needlessly. Her gaze wavered, as she nervously tossed the towel into the sink. Wiping her hands on her apron, she said, “It’s done. You should probably eat it before it gets cold.”
“Join me.” The request unintentionally came out like a hoarse command. Her eyes dipped down the length of him before darting back up. If she kept eyeing him like he was the main course, he might just throw her down on the table and indulge her.
He pulled out a chair by the table, waiting for her to sit. Morrigan looked at him warily as if she expected he would yank it out from under her. He didn’t, of course, and she relaxed.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any liquor? Something that doesn’t require me to lose my complete free will?” she asked.
It took him a moment, but Ualan realized she was making a joke. He grinned. He liked that she was being so agreeable all of a sudden, but he would have to tread carefully.
She filled the plates with food. Ualan glanced at the thick slice of wilddeor she gave him. Its color was a little off, but he could attribute that to the low lighting. When he looked at Morrigan, her face was so open, so watchful that he knew he couldn’t decline to try it.
“I could really use a drink,” she said, giving him a small smile in return.
Ualan nodded. Going to the wall by the kitchen he ran his hand over an offset stone. The wall parted and opened, revealing a bar.
Morrigan gasped. “Do you happen to have a food simulator hidden somewhere in here?”
His grin widened at her excitement. “Never found the need for one.”
“Oh.” She looked down at the table. “You should consider it. Your next wife might wa
nt one.”
Ualan’s expression faltered, but he didn’t rise to the challenge. He had decided he would kill her with kindness, even if it destroyed him. He never wanted to see fear in her face again, not directed at him. He glanced at her neck, remembering how he had threatened to strangle her. Before Agro pointed out his treatment of the knife blades, he hadn’t given the incident as much thought as he should have. He was sorry for it, but that is how the warriors acted with each other. However, now, it was very apparent just how little contact he’d had with human women in his lifetime. He tried to picture it from her side. Guilt forced him to look away.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“New Earth scotch,” was the instant answer. “Tall glass, no ice.”
He gave his bar a quizzical look. “I don’t think I have that.”
“Not surprising. If you had a food simulator I could at least have the fake kind. I’ll just take a whiskey or rum, whatever you have that’s stiff and strong.”
Ualan suppressed his laughter, not letting her see. It took everything in him not to respond that he had something stiff and strong for her between his legs.
Oh, this was going to be another long night.
* * *
Morrigan didn’t feel like eating. Mirox had insisted on placing two plates on the table, but she found that seeing food in its raw form and smelling it for hours was more than enough to take away her appetite. She did, however, want that stiff drink.
When Morrigan looked at Ualan, all half-baked plans in her head fell flat. Only the fact she’d spent the last four hours cooking kept her from leaping forward and begging him to keep her. She would not spend the rest of her days feeding him for one night of mindless, world blowing, galaxy destroying pleasure.
Nope, it didn’t tempt her at all.
Liar! her brain scolded.
Damned if he wasn’t a persistently handsome suitor. What was he up to now? There was something to the way he watched her tonight. It was almost…gentle. She’d have to be careful.
Looking at his firm backside, as he reached forward, she insisted, “tall, tall glass.”
Dressed in comfortable clothing, he appeared so warm and inviting. The flowing material hugged each curve just right when he moved. She leaned to the side to get a better view. Grabbing a bottle, he turned and smirked to see her eyes on him. “How about this? It’s a Qurilixian wine and will go well with wilddeor.”
Morrigan nodded. “Fine, so long as I don’t fall in your…”
She stopped, glowing pink with embarrassment. She really needed the scotch, a full bottle to knock her unconscious so she would be free of the feelings brewing inside her. Ualan took two goblets from the cabinet before motioning it closed once more.
Morrigan had to turn away. If she wasn’t careful, he would have her on the floor foolishly begging for his attentions. No thank you. Not again.
The silver metal of each goblet was etched with a dragon spitting fire. Morrigan chuckled inwardly. Ualan was obviously obsessed with the dragon motif. Trust a man to pick out such décor—not that her company spacecraft was anything to brag about. At least he had décor.
“Mirox mentioned I might have a title,” Morrigan said, trying to erase her last words. “What am I considered then? Besides a slave.”
Ualan hesitated. His hair had begun to dry into soft waves, framing his masculine features in the torchlight. He didn’t look at her as he filled the goblets and set one before her. Taking a deep breath, he said, “A princess.”
Morrigan smirked and shook her head. She didn’t believe him for an instant. “All right, I deserve that.”
Instead of answering, Ualan examined his plate and lifted the utensils. Morrigan watched his face carefully for a reaction. She held her breath. He cut off a piece of meat and slowly placed it into his mouth. The first taste was the last. The piece immediately launched across the table and over her shoulder. Morrigan jumped in shock. She turned to look at the partially chewed bit on the floor before frowning in irritation.
Ualan didn’t seem to care about what he had done as he grabbed the wine and began gulping. Finishing his glass, he took the wine bottle and chugged it down. Red rivulets ran down his neck, staining the cotton of his shirt.
Morrigan would have laughed if she weren’t so hurt. Staring at him, she demanded, “Stop it. You’re just being dramatic.”
A string of curses flew out in his native tongue. He panted heavily and his accent became thick, as he accused, “You’re trying to poison me. It’s not even cooked all the way and you put a whole bottle of liquid Qurilixian pepper onto the meat. No one ever uses more than a drop.”
“I should poison you, you big baby. Fine thanks I get after working my fingers off all day to cook for you. I did everything Mirox told me to do—everything.”
“Oh, yeah?” Holding up a forkful, he challenged, “Then, you try it.”
Morrigan looked at his flushed face, then at the red wine trailing over his neck. Slowly, she leaned back and shook her head in denial. Hurt flooded her at his words. Tears entered her eyes. Through stiff lips, she whispered, “No.”
Taking a deep breath, he sat back down. Looking guardedly at the ruined main course that a moment before had seemed so promising, he turned to eye the bread. It was a little lumpy but didn’t appear too bad. Taking a slice up, he sighed before biting into it.
Morrigan sat down and watched him, almost flinching in horror as he chewed.
Closing his eyes, he stopped eating and froze.
“Well?”
Ualan took his napkin and spit it out more politely than he had the meat.
“That bad?” Morrigan asked, dejected. She looked at her untouched food and pushed it away in despair. She’d worked so hard kneading the bread. Her arms were still sore.
“Better than the meat,” he said. “I apologize for reacting the way I did. I can tell by the look on your face, you did not mean to set my mouth on fire. It took me by surprise and I responded poorly.”
She nodded accepting his apology. “Tell me honestly. What did the bread taste like?”
“It’s an interesting combination of bitter and sweet,” he answered dutifully, but she could see he didn’t want to have to say the words.
She looked at her failed cooking attempt with a touch of mortification. In all fairness, she had warned him. Still it was disappointing, and frankly embarrassing, to have spent so many hours on something that turned out to be horrific. Weakly, she offered, “I didn’t make all of the salad.”
Ualan didn’t look ready to chance it. Standing, he threw his napkin down and held out his hand to her.
Morrigan eyed it despairingly and took his roughened palm in hers. “Are you going to give me to the soldiers?”
Ualan chuckled. “Not a chance. Come on. Let’s see what we can scavenge from the kitchen.”
Chapter 19
“What do you want me to make now?” Morrigan asked in dejection, as he led her behind him to the kitchen.
Ualan turned to look at her and thought, Not on your life.
“You can keep me company,” he answered more diplomatically.
Not touching her he walked toward her, forcing her to back up into the countertop. When she was trapped, Ualan grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up onto the counter. He held her like that for a spine-tingling instant. He caressed her lightly, before releasing her and turning to the refrigerator.
Ualan felt her eyes on him and he winked at her. Morrigan sat up straighter.
When he returned to the counter, he sliced fruit. Morrigan suspiciously watched him working for a long moment, before saying, “So are you a chef, then? That’s your job. You have excellent knife skills.”
“I will let you decide.” When he finished, he quickly mixed a stiff dough with his pinching fingers and patted it into a flat bread. Turning on the stove, he lightly toasted it. Morrigan watched, clearly amazed he knew his way around a kitchen.
“Who taught you to do that? I thou
ght only women cooked here. You keep talking about wife duties.”
“This is a planet of men,” Ualan said. “We have to learn to fend for ourselves.”
Morrigan shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. You actually seem to like cooking.”
Ualan finished toasting the bread and went to retrieve a can of cream from the refrigerator. When he came back, he started heaping piles of fruit and cream onto the top of the bread.
She lifted her fingers and brushed back a strand of his hair so she could see his face. “Ualan?”
His name was heaven to his ears. It was searching and tender all at the same time. Her expression was vulnerable. She didn’t readily say more, but she didn’t need to.
Something had happened to Ualan the moment he saw her vulnerability at the table. Agro was right. His vixen of a wife wasn’t as tough as she tried to be. She wasn’t immune to him. In fact, looking at her now with her trembling gaze full of unsure feelings, he would swear she had been very terrified by his actions in the past, though she had hid her fear amazingly well. Being a woman who claimed to have had many men and spoke with bold confidence, this surprised him. He would have thought she could handle his arduous onslaught. It wasn’t as if she had no idea of what she was getting herself into when she looked at him with her big, round eyes.
Were Earth men as inept as rumored?
Could it be she didn’t understand the game they played as well as he first thought?
“Here,” he murmured, lifting up a piece of cream covered fruit. “Try it.”
Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition Page 17
