Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I want an upload of the Qurilixian language,” she said pointedly to Ualan. “And this dress better be decent.”

  The dressmaker forced Morrigan to lift her arms higher.

  “We don’t upload,” Ualan said offhandedly. He gave another suggestion to the woman and Bara nodded in agreement, pushing at Morrigan’s breast to lift it up.

  “Hey, watch it,” Morrigan warned. Ualan’s grin widened. The dressmaker ignored her swatting hand. “Why does she keep calling you Draea Anwealda? What does it mean?”

  “Dragon Lord.” Ualan waved his hand in dismissal. “It is just an address of sorts.”

  “Like a title?” She glanced over to his wall and then laughed. “Oh, it’s a nickname because you like dragons so much. Does that mean I’m going to be called a Dragon Lady now?”

  Ualan gave one last order to the dressmaker before stepping up to his slave-wife. Kissing her cheek in an act of public affection that took her off guard, he whispered, “I already told you, Rigan, you’re my princess.”

  Chapter 21

  The days before the royal celebration passed in a blur of dress fittings and etiquette lessons. Mirox brought two women for the latter task—Lyna and Mary. Both were from humanoid backgrounds, and very pleasant when it came to explaining the Qurilixian customs.

  Morrigan found the more she learned about her husband’s rich culture, the more fascinated she became. It would seem they were creatures of very old tradition and exact habits. There were several small ways in which you could insult honor, most of which Morrigan thought she could easily avoid. She didn’t think she would be kissing anyone’s boot in public anytime soon.

  By the time the dressmaker finished her gown, it was the day of the celebration. Morrigan was very excited, despite herself. She had been cooped up in Ualan’s home for so long, the days ran together. She became convinced she would go mad if she had to stay another minute indoors. The curiosity to see more caused her to plan various ways of escape from the home—none of which were feasible.

  Her blue-gray ball gown was a slinky medieval affair made from a thin silk-like material. It had sloping shoulders that greatly exposed and displayed her lifted cleavage, long flowing sleeves that nearly touched the floor, and a high waist that gathered beneath her breasts and pulled seductively at her ass when she walked. Ualan’s favorite symbol of the dragon was fitted in the valley of her breasts to hold the gathering together.

  The material was so light she felt naked. Morrigan nearly fainted when she discovered that Qurilixian women never used undergarments—except for the bustier that was sewn supportively into the chest—and she was to be left bare beneath the gown.

  A hairdresser was sent to fix her hair. He brushed the sides up and let ringlets of curls fall over her shoulders. A circlet of silver with a little dragon pendent was placed low on her forehead, the delicate chains sweeping up into her locks. When he was finished, Morrigan hardly recognized herself.

  All week Ualan kept a respectable distance. She assumed it was because the house was always full of the company of her instructors. Whatever the reason, she was glad for it. His heated glances and few stolen touches were full of promise and had made for a very long, painful time for both of them. When he spoke, his words were bold with hints of passion and invitation. He made sure Morrigan knew that, after the celebration tonight, he would be coming to claim his wife—completely.

  It was that ‘completely’ part that left her shaking in her delicate slippers. For with the words, a present was delivered—a nightgown of silk and lace straps. The lingerie was like nothing she’d ever seen before, with barely enough material to cover her most private of parts. She was very embarrassed and couldn’t look Ualan in the eye for the better part of a day.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Morrigan turned from where she sat on the couch and quickly rose to her feet. Ualan’s words sent a rush of pleasure through her, as did the look of desire that flooded his features when his gaze roamed freely over her form.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Dragon Lord,” Morrigan answered huskily, eyeing his tunic jacket. It was bound together with a cord that matched her headpiece. She detected a lighter shirt beneath the jacket. It was thin and hugged each of his muscled curves. His hair was brushed back, out of his face, framing his strong features. The breeches he wore were tight and clung to every dip and curve of his legs in harmonious perfection. Morrigan was thankful the jacket and shirt hung low enough to hide his more significant parts from view.

  “If you keep looking at me like that,” he said softly, coming forward, “we will not make it to your pardon.”

  “I—” Morrigan blushed, realizing she was staring at his hips. “I have to get something, one second.”

  Ualan watched as Morrigan ran up the stairs as deftly as she could in the tighter dress. She hurried to her belongings and pulled out the eye camera. She’d almost forgotten to wear it. When she returned seconds later, she slipped the emerald ring on her finger and held it up for him to see. Ualan raised his brow in question.

  “It’s for luck. I always wear it when I go out,” she said.

  As he led her from his home, Morrigan’s eyes devoured everything. Tapestries, paintings and statutes decorated the hallways. The wide passages of red stone continued in various directions. Ualan explained that the halls led to different suites and parts of the fortress. Pointing to a symbol on the wall that looked like a bunch of lines and dots, he said, “This is how we tell where we are going. I will teach you to read them for yourself so you don’t get lost. But, for now, do not wander anywhere alone.”

  Morrigan stopped and looked at the design. Pointing to a line with a curve, she said, “This must be a dragon and these dots must mean—”

  “Later,” he said. “Though, not bad, I’m surprised you managed to get that far with the hieroglyphic code.” He walked with her through the hall. “You are expected before the festivities to receive your pardon. Do you remember what you must do?”

  She nodded weakly. Her fingers worked on his arm, clutching at him.

  “Good.”

  “How long will it take to get there?” she asked.

  “Not long.” The sound of voices welcomed them as he stopped her before a set of arched doors.

  Morrigan heard the murmuring of laughter behind the thick oak barrier. She studied the carved hatching on the wood before looking at Ualan. His eyes were liquid pools. “We’re here? I thought we’d have to take a land cruiser. I thought I’d have time to—”

  “You must enter alone for this,” He hooked one of her curls onto his finger so it clung to him. Leaning over, he lightly kissed her cheek. “You’ll do fine.”

  Morrigan swallowed and nodded. When he stepped back, she bravely pushed her way in. The heavy oak was pulled from her grasp and two servants bowed silently as she entered. She was too nervous to study the main common hall, as she stepped down three stone stairs onto the main floor. The crowd grew quiet at her arrival. Morrigan found the head table exactly where he had said it would be. Going forward, she bowed to the king and queen who she vaguely recognized from the crystal crushing ceremony.

  “Queen Mede, King Llyr,” she said, curtseying. Her voice wavered.

  The royal couple both motioned their hands in acknowledgement. She glanced to her side, seeing several sets of eyes on her.

  Morrigan had been told the royal couple was also honor bound not to speak to her until she asked for her pardon. Turning her eyes down, as instructed, she said the words Ualan taught her. “I come to you as a humble slave, begging for your royal pardon. I have restored my honor and wish to seek your blessing.”

  Morrigan couldn’t resist peeking up to see how they would react. The queen and king shared a look.

  “Prince Olek?” the queen asked.

  “Yea,” said a man to the queen’s side.

  “Prince Yusef?”

  “Yea.”

  “Prince Zoran?”

  “Yea, my queen.”
<
br />   Morrigan tried to calm her thundering heart. She itched to snap a picture of the royal table, but couldn’t get a good photograph with her eyes lowered. A picture of the princes and their brides in their natural habitat would be perfect for her story. She wondered which of the girls from the ship would be with them, if any. Hopefully it was someone she got on with so she would have an excuse to question the newly made princess extensively.

  “My husband?” the queen continued.

  “Yea,” the king answered, his gruffly booming voice full of authority.

  “And I say ‘yea’,” Queen Mede stated. “She has spoken well.”

  Morrigan began to curtsey at the compliment when the queen’s words stopped her.

  “We have agreed. Now it is up to you, my son. Will this slave receive her pardon, Prince Ualan?”

  Morrigan’s sharp gasp resounded over the hall. Her eyes darted up of their own accord to stare at the royal table to see if they were joking. There, standing by his mother, a crown of silver metal atop his head, was her husband. She felt the blood draining from her features.

  Ualan stepped down the platform at her direct attention. How did he dare to smile at her? You didn’t just smile innocently after a public bombshell like that. Morrigan was horrified, mortified, terrified. As soon as her senses recovered, she was sure she was going to be livid and there would be hell to pay.

  The hall was quiet with respect as he stepped up to her.

  “Tell me you are the royal gardener and this is a joke,” she whispered through her tightened throat.

  “No, my princess,” he answered so none could overhear.

  Morrigan panicked. It would be much harder to bail on marriage to a prince. Ualan would have the resources to send many alien races to find her. If he wanted, he could have every military and police force in the galaxy armed with her picture.

  So much for her career as an undercover reporter.

  “Do you still wish to be pardoned?”

  She nodded. How could she not? Everyone was looking at her.

  “Yea,” Ualan announced. “I shall pardon my wife. She has proven herself very worthy of her title and of my family’s honor.”

  Cheering and pounding erupted at his words. She gave a little jolt of surprise at the sudden rush of sound.

  Ualan led her forward to the royal table. Morrigan’s eyes flew over the royal couples. A prince who looked much like her husband sat next to Nadja. She blushed, recognizing him from his tent but also well aware she’d last seen him without clothes on. Another crowned brother sat next to Pia. She didn’t really know the woman, but nodded when Pia acknowledged her attention with a strained smile. The fourth prince, and ungodly dark specimen of male splendor, sat alone.

  “It is glad I am all my sons have found brides. We are a house blessed,” the king announced when Ualan and Morrigan were seated. “Preost, crown the princesses.”

  Morrigan trembled in outrage as she numbly felt a crown being fitted on her head. She refused to look at Ualan. If she did, she just might kill her royal highness of a husband in front of a palace full of witnesses.

  * * *

  Although a grand meal was served, Morrigan couldn’t eat. Ualan wasn’t the only son with the dragon symbol prominently displayed on his clothing. It was the royal seal. She thought of the upload that claimed the seal was a tiger. She was definitely going to write a story about the shoddy business practices of the Galaxy Brides Corporation. She didn’t need remade virgins. The corporation flat out lied about the planets they sent women to. When she got done with them, they’d be out of business. Clicking the emerald several times in her ire, she made sure to get several pictures of the dragon emblem.

  Musicians played lively tunes. The crowd laughed, breaking into spontaneous song at the oddest moments. She was very aware of people looking at her, curious and judging. The weight of the crown felt heavy and she had to resist pulling it off.

  Morrigan noticed her husband’s people were much freer with their affection than most humanoid cultures. They openly kissed and caressed each other as if it were no matter. To her relief, nothing got carried too far—not like the couple having sex out in the open during the wedding ceremony.

  What was she going to do? How could she escape a prince?

  Suddenly, a hand found its way onto her knee. Morrigan tensed, her eyes shooting daggers at Prince Ualan.

  “Relax.” He kneaded her thigh muscle through her thin gown. “Eat something. Enjoy yourself. It’s a celebration for all the princesses.”

  “Is that a royal order, Prince Ualan,” she ground out through the side of her mouth. She was very aware of how on display they were.

  “You’re upset.”

  She shot him a look that said, No kidding, caveman.

  He took his hand away, clearly realizing this wasn’t the time to discuss it further.

  “What are the Var doing here?” Ualan turned to ask Prince Olek, Nadja’s husband.

  “They are our guests,” Olek answered. The brothers spoke in the Old Star language and Morrigan listened intently to every word. Ualan sounded concerned. She turned to study the blond men at a distant table. They seemed to be the only ones not enjoying the lively celebration.

  “See that they are watched,” Ualan said. “I won’t have their deceits in the House of Draig. There will be a big price to pay if we must punish them.”

  “Yusef is taking care of it.” Olek glanced quizzically at Morrigan, catching her staring at them. Switching into his native language he continued talking. Morrigan scowled when Ualan answered in the same.

  Out of spite, she took a picture of Prince Olek and his bride. Nadja tried to smile at her. Morrigan nodded stiffly in return.

  Is it just me? Morrigan wondered. Or do all the royal brides look peeved.

  “I want to leave,” Morrigan said when Ualan finished his lengthy, serious conversation with his brother. “I’ll find my way back.”

  “You cannot go. This is your coronation.”

  “Your dark brother’s wife isn’t here,” she pointed out with a stiff nod at Yusef. The tall, serious prince saw her irritated look and scowled back at her.

  “That is because Princess Olena is in chastisement. She isn’t allowed.” Ualan lifted his drink, allowing his plate to be taken by a servant. Morrigan lifted her full plate and handed it directly to the man. The man seemed surprised to see her clearing her own meal, but when Prince Ualan nodded at him to go, he took the plate and left.

  “Well, I want to get put in chastisement, too. What do I have to do?”

  Ualan glanced down at his lap and visibly flinched. “Now is not the place to have that conversation.”

  Now she was even more curious to learn what chastisement meant.

  “You forget already, wife, I have given you punishment aplenty. But if you insist, I will happily give you more after the celebration. After all, I am an honorable man, duty bound to see all is in order.”

  Morrigan read the fire in his gaze as his hand reached beneath the table to touch her intimately on her thigh. He slowly gathered her dress in his palm, pulling the slinky material up until his fingers were rewarded with warm flesh. She tried to swat him away, while retaining her dignity. He squeezed tighter, sending a chill over her. The more she hit, the tighter he squeezed until she was forced to give up. Gradually, his hand slid higher, finding the place where her thigh connected to her sex. With the evidence of her attraction to him so easy to discover, there was nothing she could do to hide the fact she was wet. Morrigan prayed the results of his touch wouldn’t ruin her gown and embarrass them both.

  * * *

  Ualan smiled, pleased by his wife’s response to him.

  “Stop, brother.”

  Ualan blinked, dropping his hand as he turned to Olek’s knowing smile.

  “Before the whole hall detects her desire,” Olek added, so the brides couldn’t understand the words. Nadja looked at her husband quizzically, but hastily turned away before he saw her watching
him. “Let it not become one of those celebrations. I have no wish to share.”

  Ualan smiled and shrugged, unashamed, but properly reined in.

  A shout of laughter sounded over the hall, drawing attention. Morrigan leaned forward. Ualan followed her eyes to the small boy sprawled on the floor. Several large warriors watched him from the table, laughing harder when he limped to his feet. One foot turned in slightly and started to drag.

  “What—?” Morrigan started to whisper. She was cut off when Princess Pia suddenly jumped up from the table. The woman rushed to the boy’s side. The child looked surprised to see her standing beside him and tried his best to bow. It was awkward moving on his foot.

  “Leave him be,” Pia loudly ordered the table of laughing warriors. They quieted and looked at her in confusion. Ualan frowned, not sure what the woman was trying to do. He shared a look with his father. The king appeared stunned.

  Pia turned her attention to Zoran who also seemed surprised by her outburst.

  “What do you want with Heinrich, my lady?” Teggen, one of the burly warriors, asked while scratching at his beard. “Does he offend you? I will have him removed.”

  Pia turned a visible shade of red. Her blonde hair flew around her shoulders as she spun to glare the warrior down. “He does not.”

  A commotion ensued. Morrigan leaned closer to Ualan and he missed what was being said as he turned in surprise to look at her. He placed his arm around her waist.

  Pia shouted, “Well, I am a princess and he will be my personal warrior.”

  Ualan turned his attention back, shocked at the proclamation.

  “If my lady wishes for a warrior, let us battle for the position. Do not insult us by naming a boy,” Teggen returned. Zoran moved down the platform, finally going after his wife. The other warriors stood up support of Teggen’s request. They growled in agreement of the idea and shouts were called for a tournament.