Barbarian's Prisoner: An Alien Romance

by Abella Ward

  He pulled back then. The way she responded to him made his dragon stir fiercely inside.

  Mine... She’s mine.

  He ran a finger lazily up and down her bare arm. The feel of her velvety skin was heavenly.

  “Arathor?” she said looking up at him.

  “Hmmm?” he pulled her closer, burying his nose in her hair. She rested her head on his chest.

  Claim her... Claim her now...

  “How can I awaken my powers?” she asked him.

  “Dragon blood will awaken your magic,” he said in that deep low voice of his.

  “Can you do it?” she looked up at him then.

  “Yes,” he said shifting sideways. “But on one condition. You must use your powers to break this collar,” he gestured toward his neck.

  She pulled herself out of his arms and walked toward the wall on their left. She pressed a button on a panel and the wall shifted to reveal a huge rectangular window which overlooked the vast space and the stars beyond. She stood near the glass with her back to him and stared at the stars.

  “Okay, do it,” she said without turning.

  “Do what?”

  “Awaken my powers,” she said. “I want you to do it now.”

  He lay back in bed with his arms behind his head. “Sure, but you should know that you may feel a bit overwhelmed once your magic is awakened,” he said gazing at her, admiring the lush cascade of red hair flowing down her back and those softly rounded hips. She pulled her hair up in a loose bun with a small clip. She wasn’t aware he saw the whiplash scars on her back, and his jaw clenched.

  “I think I can handle it,” she said, grasping her arms with both hands as if feeling cold. Although the room was fairly warm.

  “Are you sure? You might feel headaches for a few days,” he began.

  “I’m good with that,” she said.

  “And you might see things around you that humans can’t. Dragons can see beings with magic, and even objects infused with magic. And what you humans call the supernatural – we can see beings from the spirit race too.”

  “Oh...” she gasped. “I think I’ll have to live with it. I want you to do it.”

  He got out of bed, pulled on his pants, and grabbed his sword as he walked up to her.

  “I like it this way,” he said pulling out the clip and letting her hair fall to her waist. “You just relax,” he said, cutting open a small gash on his palm drawing blood. Then he quickly put his hand to his mouth. He sucked in some blood and before she could react, he pulled her closer. The sword dropped to the floor with a clang, as he cupped her chin tilting her head up. And then he locked his mouth with hers, slowly draining his warm dragon blood down her throat with the swift movement of his tongue.

  She almost gagged at first, but then got used to the metallic taste. After a while, he pulled apart and when he looked into her eyes, she seemed a bit dazed and pale too. He held her then, wiping the dark blue blood from her lips with his thumb.

  “Try not to throw up,” he said gently. “It will only take a while.” He let her go and stepped back.

  And then it happened. It started with the stone at her neck beginning to glow. She felt a strange, tingling warmth run through her, some force of energy she had not felt before as she stared at her hands. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs as her breathing became labored. An orb of light surged up from her chest and filled her blood as an invisible force that levitated her up a few feet from the floor, her hair flowing out in waves as the energy surrounded her. The scars on her back disappeared. And her hair turned a deeper red.

  Then, the light dissipated and she found her gravity as her feet gently touched the ground. Her skin glowed, and her cheeks flushed. He helped her slip into a satin dressing robe. “The scars are gone,” he said.

  “W-what?” she felt lightheaded.

  “The scars on your back, they have vanished,” he elaborated, taking her hand and leading her to the chaise longue. A throbbing headache was beginning to hammer at her temples.

  “Oh...” she gasped.

  “Drink this,” he said in a demanding tone as he handed her a glass of water. She took a sip and felt much better within seconds.

  “You are bleeding,” she said softly.

  “Uh... it’s nothing. My blood usually heals on its own, but this damned collar has weakened me too much,” he said as he tore off a piece of rag from his shirt, and wrapped it over the cut.

  Arathor walked up to the cabinet in the corner of the room and tapped in commands. “What would you like to eat? A sandwich and tea?” he asked her.

  “Yes, thanks,” she said, still getting used to the surge of energy that she felt. And the dull headache was getting better, but it was still there.

  He got sandwiches for them both, tea for her and coffee for himself. The things materialized in the tray. He placed the tray on the small table in front of the chaise longue and sat down beside her.

  She took a bite and he watched her while she ate. His chest still bare, his skin gleaming in the light, she noticed. It wasn’t there before...

  “Why is your skin glowing? It wasn’t like that before...” she frowned as she sipped her tea. He looked almost ethereal.

  “What you see is magic. It was always there, you just couldn’t see it,” he said as he finished his sandwich and drained his coffee.

  “Oh, just like the scars disappearing...” she said quietly as old memories of her punishments flashed through her mind. He could sense she was suddenly tense.

  “What is it?”

  Arana stared out the window at the stars. “Lorcan. All that time, he would find ways to punish me and I wished he would let me help him. Arathor, he has a damaged mind, and I wish I could heal it,” she said.

  “Some wounds can’t be healed, Arana,” he said, taking her hand.

  She placed her hand on his injured one and closed her eyes. In the next few moments, she took off the rag and the cut was gone.

  And then she saw the vision. The old memory of his mother dying. She could hear what his mother was trying to tell him.

  She gazed at him intently. “Your mother was trying to tell you something the night she was murdered.”

  “What?” he asked her.

  “I saw it... Your dream is actually a memory.”

  “And you could hear what she said?” he said amazed.

  “Yes. Right before she got killed, she said, Remember the who you are, and find the chain of Huzosh...”

  “Find the chain of Huzosh...” he said, “She was talking about you... You have the chain and you are my mate...”

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked him.

  “I have a plan. But first I need to get rid of this thing,” he said.

  “Okay, so what’s the plan? What will you do once the collar comes off?” Arana was sure he wouldn’t go back to Lorcan, but she knew her brother too well. He would not leave them alone.

  “I’ll take you home, Arana,” he said grinning. “We will go into hiding for a while, where they can’t find us. I know of a distant planet where I have friends.”

  “Arathor, you think Lorcan won’t come after you or me?” she said anxiously. “Trust me, he won’t leave us alone,” she whispered. “Not until we are dead.”

  “Then I will go back and kill him.” Arathor realized she was right.

  “No, Arathor... No more killing. I will go with you. I can heal him,” she said quietly, looking up at him.

  “No, it’s too dangerous. I don’t want you anywhere near that psychopath,” he said adamantly, and she thought she saw his eyes glow.

  “Arathor, listen...” she began.

  “No, Arana. You will not go. And we are not talking about this again,” he said with a finality in his tone while she glared at him, exasperated.

  “Okay, forget it. How do I break the spell?” she asked, changing the subject and pointing to his collar.

  “I know this old spell which might work with your greater power,” he sa
id. “Repeat after me.”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  “Erasthrill, alloroth ne kahil...” he uttered.

  She put both her hands on the collar and repeated, “Erasthrill, alloroth ne kahil.”

  After a few seconds, the light on the collar went out and it the lock opened. The collar came off with a hiss as smoke rose from it.

  “It worked!” Arana laughed delightedly. He pulled the metal ring off and ran a hand over his sore neck. It had left a purple mark there.

  Within minutes, Arathor felt his strength returning, along with his magic. He could feel it in his blood. He got up and pulled her to her feet.

  “Arana, do you trust me?” he asked her as he gazed deep into her eyes.

  “Er... yeah,” she said slowly.

  “Then come with me. I want to show you something,” he said as he led her outside.

  Chapter 9

  They stood in the deserted area of the great warehouse of the station. On one side., huge rows of containers and boxes were filled with various suppliers.

  He started taking off his clothes and stood a certain distance from her.

  “What are you doing?” Arana blushed and was suddenly self-conscious.

  “I want to show you my dragon. Do not freak out, okay?” he said.

  “Unhuh...” she said, biting her lower lip.

  It happened quite fast, but she saw his hands lit up with fire as they turned into talons, and his eyes became burning embers, and his pupils turned to black slits. Leathery wings came out his back as horns grew on his head. The magical fire leaped up his arms and legs and almost engulfed him The man disappeared, and in his stead stood a large dragon towering over her as he spread his leathery bat-like wings wide.

  He lowered his long neck, taking a closer look at her. His head had two big horns curling upward from his temples and a row of small horns rising from the brow line all the way up to his temples. His tail was strong and pointed, and his eyes were deep golden amber. His nostrils, mere slits, breathed smoke. A few pointy teeth showed through his open mouth and she saw he was actually smiling. His talons were big and intimidating, giving the dragon a potent presence. Arana sensed an aura of dignity and royal grace that surrounded the beast.

  “Arana...” His deep, low rumbling voice wasn’t intimidating, but she got startled by it. She staggered backward and almost fell.

  “I’m alright... I’m ok...” she quickly recovered. She found it rather sexy, the way he called out her name.

  “Arana, I don’t want you to fear me...” he said gently as he came closer, gazing at her, and held out a talon.

  “I... I don’t,” she said, gazing at him in awe, admiring his grace. She touched his talon and found it sharp and hard.

  “Can I turn into a dragon too?” she wondered aloud.

  “No, Arana, you can’t, but your magic holds more power than I could ever have,” he explained as the flames engulfed him once more and he shifted back.

  Still naked, he took her in his arms and kissed her hard. “Thank you, for setting me free,” he said, pulling away, and she saw the darkening storm in his eyes. “It truly means a lot. I’m gonna take you home.” His mouth claimed hers once again as he untied the knots on her robe and it slipped to the floor.

  After a while, he pulled her into the corner, up against the towers of large boxes and crates. And then, gazing deep into her blue depths, he slid inside her, filling her... She moaned, loving the feel of him inside her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took her breasts in his mouth and sucked, licked, and bit her nipples till she moaned louder. He started moving then. Her fingers kneading his silky hair, she moved her hips, matching his rhythm as he thrust into her faster and faster. She was on the brink and screaming. She fell again and again. And he came loudly with a force that warmed her insides with his seed. And as he held her in his arms, listening to her heartbeat until it calmed, she wondered what she had gotten herself into, falling for this handsome alien – a Slayzaryn, to be exact. She didn’t know what their future was or even if they had a future together. Being with him was healing for her battered soul – the scars that had been left there for years. And she just wanted to live in the moment for now.

  And Arathor didn’t want to face the reality. He was the last of his kind and she could be the only one to save his bloodline... if that was possible. He knew they did not have a future together on Trorth, as his kind would be hostile toward her and punish him by cutting off his wings. And he knew if he claimed her as his mate, he would be putting her in great danger. For centuries, both the races had kept at a distance. If she, a Magi, mated with a fire-breathing Slayzaryn, she would risk losing all her magic. And since she was born with magic, losing the magic meant she would lose her identity. Arathor couldn’t imagine doing this to the only woman he had ever loved. His dragon screamed at him to tell her the truth, but every time he thought about it, he faltered. She would hate him, leave him. And the thought of her leaving him was more painful than any torture wound he had ever endured in the arena.

  He called out to the gods that if he could claim her as his own, he would give up his wings for her. Anything for her, for she was the one good thing in his dark life. And part of him even nagged at him he didn’t deserve her. She deserved a better man. Someone with a pure soul. But his dragon would get extremely possessive and the man in him would give in.

  ***

  One month later...

  Arana was working the night shift that day at the sickbay. It had been quite a busy day and she felt unusually tired. They had been living together, as Arathor moved in with her. He was still being stubborn and didn’t want to talk about leaving for Tirron yet. He said he had time, and he wanted to spend it here, with her, before he went back to deal with the king. Arana tried to reason with him, but he had made up his mind. He just wouldn’t listen. She didn’t bring up the subject again and let him be.

  And it was on this very day when she forgot to wear the chain of Huzosh.

  Arana walked toward the enclosure where a sick old man had been brought in. She checked his vitals and took notes for the doctor. The old man’s eyes snapped open and he suddenly grabbed her hand by the wrist.

  Arana felt a tightening in her chest and at the same time, an enormous amount of pressure began to press inside her head. The old man’s grip was strong, his hand like a claw. She looked at him, and saw his face morphed to a very familiar one. She was staring at Lorcan’s man. Fear gripped her as she tried to pull her hand from his death grasp, but he was too strong. He was not human... He was something else altogether. She tried using her magic... willed herself free. He loosened his grip a little. But again, he tightened it.

  She screamed. The pressure in her head was building, and she felt it might explode. And then her hand started burning and turned black.

  She didn’t know any spells. And all she could do was will herself free. She tried again. With her other hand, she held the man’s wrist and was about to pry it off when a force surged through her and pulled them apart with a jolt. She fell back on the floor as an inhuman scream ripped through the air. The man burned in a strange green colored fire that engulfed him. And she saw him morph into something dark and evil as his arms and legs lengthened and twisted, his face becoming dark and his eyes turning red. And then he turned to dust, a dark cloud of smoke, and disappeared.

  Staggering, she gripped her injured wrist and ran out of the enclosure.

  The pressure she felt inside her head was gone. She collapsed on the floor, unconscious, just as she reached her desk.

  ***

  He saw her... Those blue eyes, empty and lifeless, stared at nothing as her naked body stained with red lay on the ground. He stood over her body and glanced at the sword in his hand, dripping with her blood...

  He had killed her...

  Nooooooooo...

  Arathor woke up and found he was alone in bed. His breath came in gasps as sweat beaded his brow. The dream was a foreboding of evil. Somethi
ng was very wrong.

  Arana...

  He got out of bed and quickly put on his pants and shirt. Then he headed straight for the sickbay.

  Someone else was at the reception desk. A man of some race he didn’t know.

  “Where is Arana?” he asked him.

  “Oh, she is in the enclosure 346. She got sick herself this morning,” he said. “Hey, I need your ID,” he called out after him. Arathor ignored the man and ran down the broad corridor, looking for the enclosure number.

  He found her unconscious there. She seemed unusually pale. And when he held her hand, he saw it was blue-black – as if singed. His chest constricted terribly as his jaw clenched. He could see the darkness surround her. He had a hunch Lorcan was behind this.

  “Oh, good. You are here,” Dr. Qizet said as she entered. “Arathor, right? Arana told me about you. I’m Dr. Qizet, Arana’s boss. We need to talk,” she said.

  “What happened?” he demanded with an edge to his voice.

  “She has a strange illness. Her vitals are fine, but they won’t be for long. The infection in her hand is spreading. It’s as if she has been poisoned,” she explained.

  “What kind of poison?” he asked her with concern in his gray eyes.

  “It’s complicated. I...” she hesitated.

  “Doctor, please... Tell me what’s going on here.”

  “She has been marked by a demon,” she said anxiously. “Look at her hand. It’s a death mark. I know because I have seen this kind of thing before. It’s amazing that she is still alive. Nobody survives the death mark. Do you know what’s going on here?”

  “Her magic saved her again,” he whispered.

  “What?” Qizet said confused.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said, lost in thought. The thought of losing her made him sick. With her magic awakened, she should heal on her own. “You said the infection is spreading?”

  “Yes, it is. We have given her drugs, so let’s see. But this is more than just a poisonous infection. I have seen it. Drugs only slow down the spread.”