Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel

by Daniella Wright

  “I know you think me a villain,” he says, and my lips tighten at the statement. I don’t know where he intends to go, and I’d rather keep him silent and have him fuck me, along with Makita, instead of having to brood about the immorality of it all. “And perhaps cruel. And you wouldn’t be wrong, I suppose. I’m in the process of finishing what I intend to do. And then once you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement, you may be released.”

  I narrow my eyes in suspicion, even as Makita strolls in, stops dead at the sight of Balthier, and then quietly sits on the sofa in front of the television.

  “Admittedly,” he says, “I wanted to punish Makita for his ignorance, and you for your interference. But it turns out I ended up enjoying this little arrangement between us more than expected. After all, you are both quite… delightful.” His tongue probes out of his lip, slow and seductive, and I exhale sharply. “I’m fairly sure it’s against most rulebooks to grow attracted to your prisoners, but… it happens.” For the first time, he appears a little anxious. Something cracks in his otherwise smooth mask.

  “Great,” Makita says. “So you like us now?”

  Balthier shrugs. “I don’t know. I look forward to… imagining what I’m going to do with you two. Thinking what sounds you’ll make. How you’ll react. How you’ll feel. But I also know that it’s not right. I’m working harder to secure things. Once I’m safe, you’ll go.”

  “Why, Balthier?” I walk towards him after putting the kidney beans onto the kitchen surface, feet pressing into the carpeted floor. “Why do you do this? Do you care about the people you’re shipping at all?”

  Balthier gestures for me to seat down, next to Makita. I do so, though I’m obviously a little puzzled. “There’s two major problems in the world. Two that won’t go away, no matter how much I like to pretend they don’t exist. Problem one,” and he puts up one slender finger, his gray eyes furrowed in concentration, “shifter society is geared towards needing human women. Most will not come to them willingly, and if they don’t obtain women, they will die out. So it’s become sunk in tradition that they must obtain such women at all costs. Either by extensive grooming, or by dipping their paws into the slave trade, with the help of other humans. It’s not right, but it’s what happens.”

  He pauses, as we process the words, and I see the heavy guilt in Makita’s eyes again. He knows about this. Perhaps all shifters do. They just never would admit it to humans. Because it’s confirming the dark rumors that saturate human society. That these people do want our women. They need them. So they hunt them, or scoop them up by any means necessary.

  Surely I have a moral obligation to report this. Just as I’m soon done with the animal part of the people who trap me, the magnetic lure they seem to ooze within their bodies – and figuring a way out, of course.

  “Problem number two, is that there are more women than should be, stuck in gaps of society without any hope for them. They’re forgotten by the system, and it’s these ones in particular that are exploited. The tales you hear of respectable people being taken from the streets? That’s one percent of what’s really happening. My aim,” he says, waiting to make sure we’re both listening intently, “is to seize the women who are already taken. And I pair them up with shifters that I know will not mistreat them. I tap into the clients, friend or foe, who will find drug ravaged, wasted individuals. I send them to rehab centers I’ve built, and I have contact with shifter communities all over the world. They will be forgotten by the human world, but they will be welcomed into the shifter one. That’s my aim. And I’m sorry, Alyse, but I can’t let you interfere with it. If you blow the lid, it will drag this operation through the mud.”

  I stare at him, utterly astonished at his confession. It’s taken him some time to say this, some time to get it off his chest, and I’m baffled. I instantly want to yell at him that he’s still feeding into the sick cycle. I even want to call him out for lying. Instead, I say, “You’re no better than them. You’re still take advantage of vulnerable individuals.”

  “I’m working with what I have, sweetheart. Two impossible situations that will create dangerous conflict in the future. The very least I can do is find a compromise. I take these lost girls, I pump out all the drugs from their systems and whatever abusive upbringing they’ve been exposed to, and then I give them over to a shifter who I trust. You don’t believe me? Take a look at this video.”

  He takes out his phone, and Makita and I crane over his shoulder as he flicks through a video section, landing on one dated 8th July, 2016. Almost a year ago. The video starts with a girl with long, jet black hair. Balthier appears to be the one recording, and the girl is sat opposite a man with a panther tag around his neck.

  “Okay, Freda, this is Anton. Anton, this is Freda.” Balthier’s voice comes out loud, and the camera is shaky as he turns it to catch the both of them clearer. Freda is rather nervous when she says, “So you’re going to be the one taking care of me now?”

  Anton gives her a shy smile, his brown eyes rippling in warmth. He leans forward. “Yes. If you’d let me. How’s your treatment going?”

  Freda swallows something in her throat, like a lump of fear. “Good. I still… I still struggle. But there’s nothing for me. I can’t go back to the human world. I’ll just become that person again. Balthier says you’re a good person, but I know I can’t always take someone’s word for it.”

  “I know.” Anton’s lips twitch, along with one of his eyebrows. “But I’d like you to get a second chance. To show you that you can find happiness. I know maybe a shifter community isn’t what you would expect, but the women that are there – they’re at peace. You can belong.”

  A flicker of desperate hope blazes in Freda’s eyes, and she quickly hides part of her face in a shroud of blonde hair. “I’d… like that.”

  The video continues running with more conversation, but Balthier stops it. “I have others like this, too. I’m serious. I’m taking these women, the ones with a disconnect from the world, the ones who have every reason to hate it – and I give them to idealists like Anton. People who take respect seriously.”

  Except taking the women in the first place is the opposite of respect. Still, I sigh, something lodged in my lungs, a fish flitting in my stomach. I don’t know what I expected.

  But I do realize that the world is complex, and depressingly so. I’ve unearthed enough awful stories, and raised a few beautiful ones, too. But this one is neither beautiful or horrible. It’s neither sad or fulfilling. It just is.

  A story where there are no winners or losers. That hurts. I’ve known this, somewhere. That people are both good and bad, and can do bad things for the right reasons, or good things for the wrong reasons. That they can love their neighbors but loathe people from different countries. That they love their dog but would kick a cat, or care about their community, but not the rest of the world. They care deeply about their beliefs, but hate those who share different beliefs and opinions. It’s all exhausting, really. And this is exhausting.

  Balthier sees me sink into myself, getting lost in the storm of my thoughts, and he loops a comforting arm around me. I don’t know if I want that arm around me, or to push it away. My body trembles, both in the confused lust it feels, as the unbalanced hormones inside me decide that they really like the presence of him, whilst my mind is choosing to shatter into little pieces.

  It hits me, then. I know why this is upsetting me so much.

  It’s upsetting me because I realize that if I do come out with the story, I’m going to fuck it up for the girls he’s rehabilitating. They might be lost into the system, they might be given away to shifters – but from the sounds of it, shifters are going to do this anyway. They’re going to take, whether I like it or not. These girls are going to be scooped up by bastards, whether I like it or not. People are just going to keep falling through the abyss. The knowledge hits me and weighs down my soul. My fingers, usually so eager to tap away at whatever crime-biting story I’ve discovered
, feel numb and useless at my sides.

  “Why can’t it just be so straightforward?” I ask. It’s a slight whine, it’s a useless question, but I need the words to try and channel out this sense of helplessness. “Why can’t people not be bastards?”

  Balthier lets out a small chuckle, and I glare at him. “If the world was like that, we’d all be living in a utopia right now. But unfortunately, it’s not. But it’s good you feel strong enough that something should be done.”

  Is it? It doesn’t feel good. It feels like my energy is wasted, and going nowhere. It feels like the truth is burning down my stories and the intent behind them.

  If what Balthier is doing is true, I can’t let that knowledge out. The public will vilify the shifters more. The ones involved in the trafficking will do everything they can to oust Balthier himself and whoever he has working for him. And through the guise of good, I’ll actually inflict deeper evil. Because maybe people will be aware of this one ring, but the others will vanish into the city like smoke. And the pain will continue.

  Sometimes it feels like it never stops.

  Chapter Four

  I still don’t know why Balthier even ended up attracted to me. I don’t stand out in a crowd, though he says, even when he suspected I was there for something else, there was a passionate kind of conviction about me that made me stand out.

  Once I’ve signed the confidentiality agreement, I phone up Marvin and tell him I’m okay. It takes a bit of fast talking, but he’s at least convinced I’m not suffering, and he tells me that he’s still with that panther shifter, and so far things have been going great. My editors are relieved I’m okay, and the police who were alerted to my missing by my friends have received assurances as well. The official story I’m going with is that I was taken by some human traffickers, and Balthier helped break me out. I don’t know how this version of events will hold up, though we have a small paper trail that collaborates with it, and I simply ask to not be interviewed.

  The thing is, I now feel slightly directionless in my life. Like there’s something missing. It wasn’t until Balthier dropped in one day, sharing more videos of what he’s done for the girl’s he’s getting out of evil’s clutches, that I start to appreciate it and him a lot more. He’s certainly not a bad person.

  In a way, I miss him. I don’t miss the sliver of fear that came with my former incarceration, but I miss those smiles and the steady affection he showed.

  I miss it to the point that when he tentatively invites me to return to Alaska (I was in Alaska, holy shit), I accept.

  When I arrive over at that cabin a few weeks later, Makita is there as well. He’s free to go, but he wants to help Balthier in his operation. He wants to become a reverse pimp, funnily enough, and Balthier and I are encouraging him.

  The dynamic that now exists between us confuses me. We’re free, but we don’t want to leave one another.

  Inside my chest, something has grown, past anything I could have expected. Affection covers the secret lairs in my heart. My memories fondle over Makita and Balthier’s faces, their gruff and pleasant voices, and the odd gentleness we treat each other with.

  It gets to the point where Makita simply asks out loud, as I’m sat on the sofa, watching television with Balthier after he flew in from a hard day’s work, “Are we in a relationship? Because… I don’t feel envy. Or, well, odd. Being here. And I’ve never tried out the idea of a, um, open relationship before. Yet we’re all just hanging out here like it’s nothing.”

  “How Bohemian of us,” Balthier says, with a faint smile. His arm drapes around me, and the warmth of his touch sends shivery ripples of delight inside. He’s a little bit like a wild animal that is tame to my touch. A beast lurks under his skin, same with Makita, but he reins it under control in my presence. We still all enjoy the thrill of being dominated, of feeling the lights in us switch on, and our stomachs hum in anticipation.

  “Look, the last relationship I was in was four years ago,” I say, inviting Makita to sit on the other side of me. When he does, I’m basically sandwiched between two incredibly hot men, with very little chance of escape. A blizzard swirls outside – the weather is perpetually murky at the moment, but the fires indoors and the central heating blaze merrily, keeping us warm despite the abysmal cold outside. “I’m no expert on these things either. But, despite Balthier being a bastard, I don’t know. I like you both. Maybe I even love you.” The word sticks in my throat for a moment, and I see the glint of surprise in their expressions. “But it just feels like the circumstances in how we met is wrong. So that wrongness will persist. If we… pursue this.”

  There is a pregnant silence. “I know what you mean,” Makita says. “The way we met was wrong. It doesn’t matter we might have enjoyed it, somehow. It doesn’t make up for the fact it shouldn’t have happened.”

  Balthier nods, and sighs. His pale gray eyes appear sorrowful, with a slice of guilt. “You think it will fail?”

  I shake my head. “No. Maybe. I think it just depends how we approach it. So we get to know each other better. Treat each other right. And take things one day at a time. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t – oh well. At least we tried.”

  The words stir confidence in me. The more I mull them over, the more convinced I am that they are true, and right. The two shifters nod after a time. We are bound by our shared memories, but we want to change the foundations we currently stand upon. Those foundations mean we’re all approaching this as free people, all with a knowledge of what each other does, a respect for it, and a will to assist.

  It’s the best we can hope for, I think.

  To consolidate the new deal we have, I reach over to kiss each of them on the lips. Makita’s thin, pale ones, Balthier’s plump, soft ones. We gauge the mood – and the desire for sex bubbles within me. It’s what I want, and I hope this time, we can do it without the thrill of fear, and just the presence of joy.

  I can make new stories, not just ones hunting down atrocities or evil, but ones that leave good memories, and ones that help.

  When I’m lowered onto the sofa, with Balthier leaning over me, kissing my wet, ready lips, and Makita gently taking off my clothes, I feel positive about the way things are turning out.

  Maybe I still can make a difference. Not in the original way I expected, but the chance is there. If I can help those who need it more actively, rather than just putting a few pretty words in a newspaper, I might feel more satisfied, than to know that my words will be read and perhaps forgotten. Although sentences are still powerful under the right gazes. As for relationships, I might be happier to try things out with Balthier and Makita, and endorse their kindness with some of my own. Share our warmth together. Swap secrets with the way our lips touch. Find the weak points, and strengthen the strong ones.

  I can’t do it alone.

  Fingers brush my skin, sending fiery trails all along. Balthier’s lips press into my neck, making me groan and sigh, arching my back into the touch. Makita’s worked off my pants and panties by now, and is slowly kissing up my thigh, straight to that throbbing, hot and wet core which burns so hot, I’m surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted yet.

  When that mouth presses against my core, and a warm tongue flicks into my bundle of nerves, the electricity jolts through me, sending me almost insane with desire, though I hold it in as best as able, even as Balthier works his way down to my breasts, and caresses each one.

  This day, I will lose myself to the two of them again. The next as well.

  I will drown in sweet desire and ecstasy, and make them experience it in return. And I will do everything I can to make the wrong right, to find my way and place. And I’ll do it with these people, in my own manner. I’ll do it with words, and with actions.

  Just as soon as I’m done enjoying this session…

  ~*~

  EROTIC & ARRANGED MARRIAGE COLLECTION

  ~*~

  Trapped

  ~Bonus Story~

  An Outlaw Western
Romance

  Tessa Goings is a bounty hunter. Her job is to bring outlaws to justice. She is a specialist. She is tough, gritty, has a no nonsense attitude, and she is dead sexy.

  Her newest assignment is Lightning Isaac Swayne, the fastest gun in the west. He has been on a nonstop spree of armed robbery against banks, saloons, and hotels going town to town throughout west Texas.

  Tessa knows that capturing Isaac will be no easy task, but she is the right woman for the job.

  But when she finally tracks him down, she finds that Lightning Isaac is no ordinary fugitive. He is smart, gutsy, intense, and the sexiest man she has ever laid eyes on. Isaac has an effect on Tessa that no man ever has. He has penetrated through her shield that keeps the world at bay and touched something she long thought dead inside of her.

  Will Tessa be able to stay focused on her job? Or will she fall victim to the charms of renegade outlaw Lightning Isaac Swayne?

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  West Texas. 1964.

  “The man is a menace to society.”

  Tessa Goings watched as Harlan Williams, the mayor of the small town of Jumper, Texas almost had a nervous breakdown. For the past five minutes he had been going on and on, his mouth moving a mile a minute and barely taking a breath, about Lightning Isaac—said to be the fastest gun in the west and soon to be public enemy number one. He had already hit five banks within a fifty mile radius in just over a week. Jumper was the latest.

  Tessa had missed the action by little more than two hours, which meant that if Isaac had a fast horse he already had a huge head start on her. If she was interested in the job, that was.

  "You have to help us. He came into the bank and held everybody up at gunpoint. He stole darn near every cent and he did it all with a smile on his face. The man is the Devil incarnate, I tell you!" Harlan Williams took another huge swig from his flask. The scent of cheap whiskey wafted up towards Tessa's nostrils. She could have gone for a drink or two right then, but there was work to be done.