by Pearl Foxx
The Draqon’s Brat
The Shifters of Kladuu Book Five
Pearl Foxx
The Draqon’s Brat is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, place, or event is purely coincidental and not the intention of this collection.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without the proper written permission of the appropriate copyright holder listed below, unless such copying is expressly permitted by federal and international copyright law. Permission must be obtained from the individual copyright owners identified herein.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Draqon’s Brat copyright © 2017 Pearl Foxx
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Author
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Chapter One
Veronica
Through the massive windows of the Zynthar International Space Station's banquet hall, just off the station’s starboard side, a gas storm brewed. Celestial gases erupted beneath the stars’ glow, forming a beautiful, hazy disaster of colors that played out in technicolor, seemingly inches from Veronica Gideon’s fingertips.
She dropped her hand from the glass and sighed heavily, blowing a piece of chestnut colored hair from her face.
Her father's reception bored her silly, a complete bust. The invited guests were non-humanoid crawly things with four legs and no visible mouth. They gave her the utter creeps. Despite the translators for easier communication, she couldn’t muster the interest for a long discussion about her father’s massively impressive plans for the Falconer exploration programs and how the entire universe would benefit from the resources he would discover on faraway planets.
It was just a bunch of ships after all.
She wiggled her fingers around the stem of her champagne glass and looked back out at the many stars, billions of years away. The time difference between what she saw and the “now” of those lights always amazed her. She would never see them in their current state. Even if she could travel such distances, those stars and any life forms residing near them would be long dead by the time she arrived.
The idea made her unusually morose, and she disliked the feeling. Much better to lose herself in the sensation of her flowing gown twirling around her as she danced. If only there were humanoid males here, other than her father's toy soldiers.
Veronica glanced over her shoulder and found her personal guard’s sharp green eyes trained on her.
Maxsym. What kind of name was Maxsym?
Men of a high enough rank to be assigned to her personal security force should have had better manners than the brute who had escorted her to the reception. He’d been rude, disrespectful, and knee-shakingly hot.
Those green eyes tracked her no matter where she went in the room. Worst of all, they called to her like a siren’s song. They zeroed in on her senses, raising goosebumps along her flesh, and bored right into her mind. Not to mention she couldn't help but be impressed with the mass of muscle underneath the guard uniform or the hard cut of his jaw.
Dammit, he’d caught her staring. Again.
He met her gaze with a slow, crooked smirk that reminded her of the mustache-twirling villains in the old murder-mystery holovids she so loved to watch. Then, infuriatingly enough, he pursed his lips and blew her a kiss.
The nerve.
Scowling, she turned away. No woman of her stature should lower herself to even think about men who behaved as he did. Blowing kisses? Smirking? And all the times she’d caught him checking her out just in the last hour. She wasn’t above a good romp with a guard—she'd been exploiting that desire since she was a teenager—it was this guard who set her teeth on edge and had her pussy quivering.
Veronica dispatched the next auto-server who came her way, still not finished with her champagne and not wanting to lose her head to the bubbly. Last time she’d gotten wasted at a party like this, she’d found herself in bed with a Grelian, sticky and confused. She didn’t even want to think about what might have happened that night.
If she hid by the windows much longer, she risked her father commenting on her lack of social grace and nothing withered her spirit like her father’s disappointment. Weaving through the oblong-shaped four-legged Frenoids, she made her way toward the band.
It was a rare display of wealth for her father to arrange a human string quartet to play live music. The instruments were ancient, strangely shaped, and made of real wood. They looked warm to the touch, soft and supple. Yet they elicited the most vibrant sounds. Veronica swayed to the slow beat, her layered gown swishing around her in rhythm.
Someone placed a warm hand on her hip, and for a moment, she imagined it was Maxsym, his touch hot and strong. Despite the fantasy, it couldn’t be him because he was a guard, standing sentry and watching her with those green eyes. She turned and stared up at the face of her father’s favorite lieutenant.
"Lieutenant MacGuire, lovely to see you this evening," she cooed and drank the last of her champagne to clear her mind of the vexing green-eyed guard. She placed the empty glass on an auto-service tray.
“Veronica.” MacGuire’s vein-riddled nostrils flared as he spoke her name. She smelled his penchant for expensive scotch on his breath. “What a lovely night. I knew from the view of the reception room it would be a pleasure just to attend, but now that I see you have graced us with your presence, I'm sure the evening holds only magic in its future."
Veronica’s smile was automatic, even though the only magic she saw in her future was a breath of fresh air away from MacGuire. “You flatter me, Lieutenant.”
His perfectly white teeth flashed beneath his lips. “May I have this dance?”
He posed it as a question, but the lieutenant took her hand in his without waiting for her response and directed her into the flow of dancers around them. He was attractive enough for someone who had spent years as a Falconer and had the red-tipped nose of an alcoholic. But his deep brown eyes and soft-looking lips were undoubtedly more attractive than the creatures her father was entertaining, so she allowed him to guide her around the dance floor without complaint.
After all, things could be worse. She could have tentacles around her waist instead.
He quickened their pace to the music. The string quartet played a lively tune and filled the metal room with its harmonies. She couldn't imagine a place more beautiful than the Zynthar station. She was lucky to have grown up living amongst the stars and planets instead of down on Earth.
She leaned her head back and al
lowed herself to enjoy the effervescent effects of the champagne and the strong arms around her. When Lieutenant MacGuire pulled her closer, she felt the press of her breasts against his chest and laughed a little too loudly.
He squeezed her hand and continued their dance through the room.
Three dances and two glasses of champagne later, Veronica forgot her father's reminder to make him look good regardless of her thoughts on the attractiveness of his guests. And while she had taken his word seriously and intended to be as friendly as possible, the arms around her waist and the alcohol spinning in her head gave way to a flirtatious smile, which MacGuire responded to with a leer of his own.
Before she’d properly processed it, MacGuire had maneuvered them to the edge of the dance floor. Taking her hand, he pulled her from the reception room via a darkened doorway Veronica couldn’t recall noticing. The door opened into a service corridor where the guards and station’s worker bees flitted about out of sight and out of Veronica's mind.
"You have grown into a beautiful young woman," MacGuire whispered in her ear, voice husky.
He stopped them beneath a darkened auto-light and pressed his body against her, one hand grabbing her breast in a firm grip, his lips dipping to her neck.
"Wait.” Veronica moved to the left, out from beneath his crushing bulk. He leaned in, leveraging his weight against her, much stronger than he appeared. Clearly, the impact of interstellar flight wasn’t as significant as she thought. "I need to go back to the party. Perhaps we can take this up later." She offered a placating smile to soften her rejections.
But the lieutenant boxed her in with both hands and pressed his already hard cock against her, wrinkling her handmade designer dress. Veronica wasn't sure what offended her more: his presumption or his disregard for her attire.
"You've been teasing me for enough years now, little girl. I've been waiting so long for you to be old enough to steal the right moment. I'm not about to wait even another hour."
MacGuire brought his lips toward hers, but she turned her head away, not wanting the kiss of a man who had lusted over her as a child. He grabbed her chin with his strong hand and smashed his lips against hers.
She kept her mouth shut, but her futile attempt to fight him off only fueled his desire. She smacked his shoulder in the close confines, trapped between the wall and his body. A tremor of fear ran through her body as MacGuire's cock rubbed hard against her belly and his mouth dipped down to leave stinging bite marks on her neck.
She’d never been one to cower in fear, especially to a man, and tonight was no different. She slammed her knee right into his balls.
The older man crumpled to the ground, his face turning blotchy and red. "You bitch,” he spluttered around a wheeze of pain. “Who do you think you are?"
"I know exactly who I am," Veronica spat. "I'm the single most important woman on the station, and you would do well to recall that fact, you disgusting asshole." She kicked him in the side for good measure with her pointed Ancin Frey shoes.
In a swish of organza, she stalked off, heels clicking through the service hall. Pausing at the door, she smoothed her dress so the material once again flowed around her knees and ankles, although the wrinkling would remain until her personal seamstress could press it properly. Not that there was any reason to; she wouldn't be wearing it again. She should perhaps shred it and throw it out the airlock, lest it remind her of this encounter.
She sniffed and pushed her way through the service door. The party was still underway, the music thrumming through the room, the lights dimmed and the stars on full display. No one appeared to notice her reentry, and she took a deep breath and headed back into the fray of the party when a large, hulking body dressed in black blocked her way.
"If you're going to leave this room, you need to tell me first."
Veronica tilted her head up to look into the glaring green eyes of her personal guard. Maxsym. Where had he been when she’d needed him?
"I’ll go wherever I fucking please," she replied, sick and tired of an evening full of men telling her how to behave. She slipped past the guard but felt his piercing eyes follow her.
Good, she thought. Let him know exactly where his place is: by the wall, waiting for her to beckon him.
She approached her father to tell him about what had transpired with MacGuire. Perhaps getting the man demoted or even thrown off the space station and back to the crumbling deserts of Earth would help elevate her now sour mood.
When she reached the imposing height and silver-haired visage of Commander Gideon, she found her wisp-like mother swaying at his side. One look and Veronica knew her mother had already indulged in the steady supply of champagne.
"Veronica," her mother said in an exaggerated accent that sounded ridiculous. "Listen to this beautiful music. Your father won't dance with me. He won’t pay attention to me at all. But you’d think I'd be used to it by now, wouldn't you?" Her voice carried through the room like a harpy’s screech, drawing more than a few looks.
Veronica glanced over at her father, who merely rolled his eyes and returned to his conversation with the short, strange creature whose head was indecipherable from its ass. Why did all these aliens look like caterpillars?
"Mother, why don't we get you back to your room?" Veronica suggested, taking the bird-boned older woman by the arm. Her mother would have looked beautiful in her dress if its silver hues hadn’t played up the yellow tinge to her skin. She had once been the most beautiful woman in any room she entered, and a fragment of that beauty remained, if not well hidden and long forgotten.
"I wish only to dance the night away amongst the stars and relish in the adoration of my beloved husband. Except he’s busy talking about his newest Falconer ships with his little worm friends. Darling, will you dance with me? Please? Just one.”
Everyone ignored her mother, especially her father. Most in attendance were used to her outbursts and looked away, embarrassed.
“Get your mother out of here,” her father hissed, voice low and seething.
Commander Gideon was not a man anyone disobeyed, even his only precious daughter.
"Yes, Mother. Let's dance."
“I could always count on you, Ronnie,” her mother slurred.
Veronica wrapped her arms around the frail woman’s waist and spun her toward the door. On the way out, she caught a glimpse of Lieutenant MacGuire limping back from the service hall where she'd left him. He glared and she laughed to herself.
When they reached the main entrance, Maxsym appeared at her side.
"I need to get my mother back to her rooms," she said discreetly, not wanting anyone to think she would demean herself by speaking to her guard.
"Doesn’t she have her own battalion of men who can attend to her?" the surly man asked.
"I didn't ask for your input, only that you assist me." Veronica swiped open the main doors and danced her mother into the hallway. As expected, the guard followed, taking her mother's arm when the older woman stumbled.
They made their way through the silver halls of the upper deck. On their way to her father's quarters, they passed the central command, the Elite Corp galley, and a smattering of smaller rooms Veronica didn't know the purpose of. Probably something complicated and uninteresting. Men who spent all their time with numbers and calculations bored her. She was much more interested in having her own adventures.
At Commander Gideon’s private elevator, she used her hand to swipe open the sensor pad. She input her personal code.
"Ronnie, is the elevator tilting?”
"Computer, take us to the commander’s quarters."
"Yes, Veronica Gideon."
Her mother leaned against the broad chest of Veronica’s guard.
"Mother, I think it's time for you to rest," she said as the elevator doors opened. The antechamber was lavishly decorated with antiques of old Earth. Marble, wooden furniture, and even some botanical life.
"You, wait here." She pointed at Maxsym and narrowed her
eyes to make sure he understood.
His only response was to quirk a dark brow at her, his lips teasing a smile as if he were mentally laughing at her.
Did he not realize she could have him removed from his post? His ranking stripped? Was he that stupid?
Veronica grit her teeth to hold back a nasty comment and guided her mother into her personal room. Once she sat her on the chaise lounge she so loved, Veronica patted her hand. "Mother, would you like to get into bed?"
"Oh, Ronnie, I did it again, didn't I? I didn't mean to act such a fool." Tears welled in her mother's eyes, and though Veronica hated to see her hurting like this, she was also embarrassed. Just once, she wished her mother could pull it together and act like a commander’s wife.
But being the commander’s wife was precisely the cause of her mother’s excessive drinking and shot nerves.
"It's okay. He won't even remember in the morning. Just don't let Father get you too upset. Would you like to lie here, or shall I help you to bed?" She rubbed her mother's upper back gently, not wanting to disturb the woman's already frazzled mind.
"I’ll just lie here for a moment, dear. Could you have Penelope bring me something to drink? Brashin wine, perhaps." Her mother leaned back in the chaise lounge and curled onto her side, asleep before she'd even fully shut her eyes.
Veronica grabbed a wool blanket from her parents’ bed and draped it over her mother. Something as beautiful as her mother certainly deserved something as priceless as real wool to cover her as she slept.
She placed a kiss on her mother's forehead and looked down at her. If only her mother were smart enough to figure out how to manage her father—or at least how not to let him bother her.
