Sons of Lyra: Slave Princess

by Felicity Heaton

  He poured himself a glass of sapphire blue Lyran Aquan, the strongest liqueur in the Lyra system, and leaned back into his seat.

  His thoughts drifted to the woman.

  Would she understand when he dumped her on some planet where she didn’t know anyone?

  Perhaps he should talk to her. She didn’t look Sekarian or Minervan, and she didn’t appear to be a Lyran. She hadn’t spoken a word to him so it was hard to tell where in the universe she came from. She could be from any one of the humanoid species. He wondered if she’d talk to him even if he tried to talk to her. Could she talk?

  In Iskara’s name, how had she got herself stuck in that port as a slave anyway?

  He remembered the Minervan and hoped that he wasn’t going to be trouble. Even with running repairs to the ship, it was in no state for a battle. All he wanted was a quiet trip back to the nearest space station for maintenance and a break. It had been three months since they’d left Lyra Seven, the outermost planet in the system, and they’d faced nothing but battle after battle. He was weary of them now, and longing for the stretching blue skies and warm volcanic baths of his home world.

  A little pampering wouldn’t go amiss either.

  Sometimes he thought his eldest brother, Sebastian, had things right. Stay at home on Lyra Prime and live a life of luxury and safety.

  Other times, he wanted nothing more than to embrace the adventure and excitement that being a captain in the Lyran Imperial Army offered him.

  Today, he just wanted to shut himself away until everything blew over, everything including the woman.

  The door intercom buzzed.

  “What is it?” he hollered.

  “Sir,” a female voice came through the speaker and he realised it was the woman he’d sent to check on their new guest. “I think you should come and see this.”

  He frowned, downed his drink, and was on his feet before she’d even finished her sentence. He opened the door and stared hard at her. He just wanted a quiet life.

  “See what?” he said and then realised that the woman was holding her arm. There was a gash in the sleeve of her tight blue flight suit and he could see blood. “What happened?”

  The woman looked at her arm and then back at him. “It seems she doesn’t like me, sir.”

  “What did you do?” he said, unable to believe that such a slight girl could have inflicted so much damage without intense provocation.

  “I offered her some clothes... that’s all. She took the water I gave, but when I tried to get her to dress, she turned wild. I had to run out of the door... she...”

  “Enough,” he said and walked past her, striding down through the corridors towards the woman’s room. He’d find out firsthand what the problem was. It was time he had a little talk with his slave girl. “Get me two translators, quickly.”

  The woman nodded and broke away from him.

  He opened the door to the girl’s room and entered cautiously, his hand resting over his pistol. He flicked the dial down so it would only stun her if he was forced to use it. He didn’t want to. Judging by the scars on her body, she’d suffered enough for several lifetimes. There was no need for him to add to her trauma unless she became life threatening.

  The door closed behind him.

  He scanned the room. There was no sign of her. The place was a mess. The blue silk covers had been torn off the double bed, the pillows tossed across the room. One of them had been split open, spilling the fine Friskin feathers inside. He edged further into the room. The table and chairs were tipped over. The vase near the window had been smashed, littering blue glass across the pale grey floor. He leaned to the side and peered towards the bathroom. She had to be in there. There was nowhere else for her to hide.

  His steps were slow and measured, his breathing level and steady as he approached the bathroom. He pressed his back into the wall that separated the room from the corridor outside and slid towards the bathroom door. It opened to reveal an even bigger mess than was in the main room. Everything was scattered across the white glass floor—towels, beauty products, even what little clothing she’d been wearing before. Shards of the mirror created a dangerous assault course. The soap dust container had been left in the wet of the shower and had turned into a gelatinous blob. There was blood on the floor. He presumed it belonged to the poor woman he’d sent in to tend to the girl. The broken mirror explained how she’d got the cut. The girl must have used it as a weapon.

  He eased inside the small room and frowned when he saw her.

  She was curled up in the corner holding her knees to her chest. The chain attached to her collar snaked across the floor towards him, the end near his foot.

  “Are you alright?” he said and she tensed, pulling her knees tighter against her chest. She looked so incredibly tiny.

  Her black hair hid her face. Her skin was milky now that she was clean, tainted only by pinkish scars that hadn’t healed yet.

  “Are you alright?” He tried again. She buried her face into her knees and turned away so her side was facing him.

  She couldn’t understand him. She probably thought he was coming back to do all the terrible things to her that the Sekarian had spoken of. He crouched down near the door, keeping his distance. He had to get her out of the bathroom and dressed. There was no way he could have a conversation with her until she was in a decent state of dress. He’d never be able to concentrate and he would definitely give her the wrong impression, especially if his body kept reacting as it was now. He stifled his urges and stood.

  Moving across the room, the shattered mirror pieces splintered under his heavy boots, crunching against the glass floor tiles.

  The second he went to touch her arm, she launched herself at him, scratching down his face and pushing him backwards into the shower area of the room. He slipped on the wet tiles and went crashing to the ground. She bolted.

  He was on his feet before she could make it halfway across the main room and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the floor. Her legs flailed, catching him hard in the crotch and killing any urges he might have had. He gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and tightened his grip on her.

  She elbowed him in the face.

  He threw her onto the bed and grappled with her until he was sitting astride her hips with his hands pinning hers to the bed.

  She breathed hard and screwed her face up as she struggled again, trying to break free.

  His eyes raked over her against his will. Her breasts heaved as she breathed and he tried to look away from them but couldn’t. They were so tempting—luscious mounds peaked with hard dusky nipples. The door opened.

  He looked across the room to see his first lieutenant standing in the doorway with the female co-pilot he’d sent to get the translators.

  “I thought there might be trouble,” the woman said in a quiet voice, a stunned look on her face.

  That stunned look was echoed on his first lieutenant’s face.

  He knew how bad it looked. He was kneeling astride a naked woman after all. How good could it look?

  “Just hurry up with those,” he said to his first lieutenant when he saw the man was holding the translators.

  The man hurried over to him and put the small device into his ear for him, and then into the woman’s.

  “Now leave,” he said and was thankful when they did.

  The woman looked up at him with wide green eyes. They sparkled at him. Beautiful.

  “If I let go, will you behave yourself?” he said, hoping the translator would pick up her language when she spoke.

  “I can understand you,” she said with an air of disbelief.

  “The thing he put in your ear is a translator. If I let you go?”

  “Yes,” she whispered and he released her. He went to the clothes that lay on the floor and picked them up.

  “Put these on.” He tossed them across the room to her and kept his back turned.

  He tapped his toe impatiently and stared at the dull grey wall wh
ile she dressed. She was taking a long time. He wondered if it had been a while since she’d worn clothes.

  “Done,” she said and he turned back around to look at her.

  She was truly beautiful without all the filth. She was sitting on the end of the bed, the tight blue flight suit hugging her lithe figure and undone to halfway down her chest. The material squashed her breasts together and formed a modest cleavage. He swallowed at the memory of how good they’d looked when she’d been below him. It had been too long since he’d had a woman, and she was more beautiful than any he’d had.

  “Why did you attack me?” he said.

  “I thought...” There was fear in her eyes again.

  “I wouldn’t do that to a woman,” he said and paced across the room to the windows. He opened the shutters and her attention was immediately with the dark space outside.

  She moved to the window and pressed her hands against the glass. He’d never seen anyone look so fascinated before. When she looked at him, there was a smile in her eyes.

  “It’s been a long time since you left the port,” he said and she nodded before looking back out of the window. “How long have you been working down there?”

  “Working?” She snorted in contempt. “I’m a slave.”

  “Not anymore.”

  She scowled at him. “I still am a slave. He gave me to you because he thought you liked me... he thought you wanted me. Don’t you want me?”

  He frowned. His better sense said to deny her words, even though they were true. He did want her. Something drew him to her, lured him in until he could only think of her.

  “How long have you been a slave?” he said, choosing to ignore what she’d said.

  “As long as I can remember really,” she said and then pulled the translator from her ear. “How does this work?”

  “It’s Lyran technology—” He cut himself off when she looked confused and sighed as he put the device back into her ear. “It’s Lyran technology. It knows all languages of the universe and can automatically translate them.”

  Her brows rose. “Lyran. You’re a Lyran... and you’re speaking Lyran? And I can understand you because of this?”

  He nodded.

  “What language are you speaking?” he said, figuring it was a better way of asking her where she was from than asking outright.

  “In the port, you couldn’t understand him... but you understood the other man... you spoke a different language to him.”

  “Minervan. Pray to Iskara that that other man, as you put it, doesn’t follow us. We’re in no shape for another battle with him.” He caught hold of her hand when she went to take the translator out of her ear again. She could look at it all she wanted later. Right now, she was going to answer his questions. “What language are you speaking? It’s not Sekarian or Minervan, or anything that I recognise.”

  She flashed a smile and hopped onto the bed. He looked at her where she knelt on the pillows, staring out of the window. He was beginning to get the impression she didn’t like answering questions.

  “What planet did you call home?” he said, losing patience.

  She looked at him with wide beautiful eyes. “I never had a planet to call home.”

  He frowned and walked over to her, sitting down beside her on the bed. His hand remained close to his pistol. She’d already cut him once because he’d tried to get too close. Just because she was speaking to him didn’t mean he was about to let his guard down.

  “No planet. Do you know what language you’re speaking?” He held her gaze. A hint of sadness entered hers.

  She was quiet for a moment as she turned away and stared off into the distant darkness.

  “Terran,” she whispered.

  Terran? The Earth system. She was a Terran. He’d never met one before. Most never did. They had been scattered to the four winds when their system had been destroyed.

  It had been destroyed by his great great grandfather.

  “You knew I was Lyran.” He watched her closely for any sign of a reaction to the name of the species that had killed so many of hers.

  “I knew,” she said with a small, joyless smile. “At least I suspected as much and then I heard the Minervan call you Captain Lyra II... which makes you royalty.”

  “And makes you more informed than I thought.”

  Kayla gave him a real smile this time. She’d figured he’d think her an ignorant and uneducated woman. Just because she’d been forced into slavery didn’t mean she hadn’t been raised well. She could remember her parents. She knew the story of how the Lyrans had destroyed her home world and that they could never return there. They were orphans of space like so many others whose systems had been caught up in wars. Earth hadn’t been in direct conflict with either the Lyrans or the Vegans. It had merely been in the way of their fight.

  She looked at him as he stared out of the window. Never in all her short years had she imagined that the one species she hated above all would be the one species to rescue her. Now she didn’t know how to feel. He was royalty. Her parents had told her of the current rulers and their children, the famed sons of Lyra, handsome from the day they were born. When she was younger, she’d made a pact with her friends Tyla and Serena. If they ever met a Lyran, they’d get revenge for their species.

  Back then things had been simple.

  Back then the Lyran in question hadn’t been her rescuer.

  And he hadn’t been so gorgeous.

  Now she didn’t know how to feel.

  He touched his cheek and the scratches she’d inflicted. A smile curved his beautiful bow lips. Amusement shone in his dark eyes but was quickly replaced by a serious look.

  “Is this why you attacked me?”

  “I was defending myself.” She would have done a lot worse if she’d wanted to hurt him and get revenge. His pistol had been within easy reach. She could have taken it and killed him. Why hadn’t she? She reasoned that it was because she was on a Lyran ship and had no chance of escaping it alive if she killed him.

  The voice at the back of her head said that it was because he’d rescued her. She felt as though she was caught between a terrible reality and a beautiful fantasy. Why had he had to rescue her and why did he have to be a prince? Now she couldn’t stop imagining he was a knight of old in shining armour.

  She looked him over. Not quite armour and she was sure that when her grandmother had whiled away the dark hours with her that the armour she’d spoken of wasn’t quite as revealing as his flight suit.

  “Are you going to keep me?” she said, aware that she was his property now. He could do whatever he wanted with her. Why wasn’t he? She wasn’t naive or blind. She’d seen the hunger in his eyes when he’d been on top of her.

  He shook his head and she frowned when a strange feeling of disappointment swept through her.

  “What will you do with me?” She turned to face him.

  His eyes met hers again, sending a warm rush through her.

  “I will set you down on a planet between here and the space station we’re destined for.”

  There was no emotion in his voice or in his expression. He would set her down. Just like that. He didn’t care what happened to her really. He was a typical Lyran after all.