The Dark Prince's Prize (Curizan Warrior Book 2)

by S. E. Smith

  Adalard gritted his teeth. Chad’s appearance couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Samara’s confession that she could see his colors confirmed what he already knew—she was his mate. It was the fear and confusion in her eyes and voice that worried him.

  Ha’ven had warned him that humans were unaware of the power they held inside themselves. Arrow suspected, from Ha’ven’s description of what happened when he met Emma, that a chemical and physical bond, latent inside Emma, had been awakened. Adalard didn’t care how it had happened, just that it had! He would leave the biology of it to his anal twin to figure out.

  “Mason went over the rules with you, didn’t he?” Chad asked.

  “Yes,” he replied in a curt tone.

  “Good, good. Is there anything specific you are here for? Anything I can help you with?” Chad continued.

  “Yes. You can leave,” he answered.

  Chad stopped and faced him. Adalard didn’t care that he was being rude. He wasn’t used to being nice to anyone except Emma—and Jaguin’s mate, Sara, and his mother. His irritation grew as the list of people got longer.

  I am going soft, he thought, stiffening with dismay.

  The mental image of the Twin Dragons throwing knives at him helped relieve a bit of his worry. There were also enemies still trying to kill him.

  Reassured that his soft spot towards women was normal and not much else had changed, he focused on what Chad was saying.

  “I see that the alien sense of humor is still intact,” Chad dryly replied.

  “There are a few matters I need to take care of. I do not need your assistance… unless…” he began.

  “What is it?” Chad asked.

  Adalard glanced back at the barn. Perhaps Chad could give him more information on the men who were a threat to Samara. There was a shrewd look in Chad’s eyes, and the man was shaking his head by the time Adalard looked at him again.

  “Rule number one: no fraternizing with any of the women on the ranch,” Chad reminded in a stern tone.

  Adalard shrugged. “At the moment I’m trying to avoid committing rule number two: no killing anybody,” he responded with a flash of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Chad paled. “Shit. You should know we have one of those communicator things for emergencies,” he threatened.

  Adalard chuckled. “Your intimidation skills are good, but they could use some work,” he replied.

  “You’re about to show me how to do it better, aren’t you?” Chad warily asked.

  Adalard nodded. “If necessary. Now, I have some questions for you,” he stated.

  An hour later, Adalard was seriously contemplating breaking rule number two as Mason and Chad drove away. When Chad suggested they take the conversation indoors where it was warmer, he should have suspected the man was up to something. He discovered soon enough that Chad Morrison was an attorney.

  There were legal counselors back on Ceran-Pax. They were the bane of his existence at times. The worst part was that their powers were comprised of the ability to pull the truth out of their victims. Chad hadn’t yet displayed that ability because Adalard had nothing to hide, but his sheer doggedness was exhausting.

  Mason reappeared ten minutes after they found seats inside, and the next hour consisted of their constant explanations that Samara was off-limits. Adalard wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating these two men again. He had received more information from enemy assassins than from Chad and Mason. Of course, being able to torture them might have helped.

  If it wasn’t for the buzz of his communicator, he would have been tempted to string both men up by their ankles and apply some good old-fashioned Curizan electro-shocks to their asses, or at least imagine doing it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Ha’ven and Paul would have his hide and more if he did, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

  Instead, he curtly bid the men a good day. If he didn’t answer the vidcom this time, he suspected Ha’ven would be requesting an away team to find him. He was greeted with Ha’ven’s scowling face.

  “You interrupted me,” he informed Ha’ven.

  “I know you aren’t on the ship. Where are you? Why haven’t you checked in? I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour,” Ha’ven snapped.

  “Since when did I start reporting to you? In case you’ve forgotten, the Rayon I is under my command,” he dryly responded.

  “Quill contacted me. After he checked over your transport, he was concerned that there might have been a tracking device placed on mine,” Ha’ven replied.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked.

  “No, I checked it thoroughly.”

  Adalard studied his brother’s tense expression. “What’s wrong? I can tell something else is bothering you,” he commented.

  Ha’ven glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “I worry about Emma,” he confessed.

  “You are worried she may want to stay on Earth. She loves you, Ha’ven. You have nothing to worry about,” he said.

  “I know,” Ha’ven replied with a grimace. “We are going tomorrow to retrieve her mother. She wishes to gather a few personal things to take back. We should return in a couple of days at most.”

  “Take your time,” he encouraged.

  Ha’ven’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Adalard pursed his lips and debated whether it was safe to share everything that was going on. The frequency they were using should be secure.

  “I suspect whoever placed the tracking device on my transport also placed another type of device. I need time to locate it,” he explained.

  “What kind of device?” Ha’ven asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Whatever it is, Ha’ven, it is dangerous. It was draining me,” he grimly replied.

  Ha’ven’s expression hardened. “Let me know what you discover. I haven’t had any issues. I recommend that the Rayon I and every transport be thoroughly searched,” he suggested.

  “I was about to brief my officers aboard,” he said.

  Ha’ven nodded. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  Adalard opened his mouth to reply before he shook his head. “No, I will need longer before I return. I don’t want to endanger anyone or the ship,” he said.

  “If you need my help, let me know,” Ha’ven replied.

  “I will,” he promised. “Stay safe. I’ll notify you if there are any issues.”

  Ha’ven nodded and ended the link. Adalard stood and stared out of the window. Samara had emerged and climbed into the transport while he was talking to Ha’ven. Once again, she had eluded him.

  Shaking his head, he decided to take care of business first so he could focus all his attention on his mate. A wry smile curved his lips at the thought that after all his boasting, he was well and truly caught—he had a mate. He sighed.

  “I’m never going to live this down,” he murmured, thinking of his brothers’ reactions.

  He pushed the thought away and pressed the vidcom link to the Rayon I.

  “Rayon I,” the communication tech responded.

  “This is Commander Ha’darra. Set up a secure link with Adur—Primary Code 1,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” the tech replied.

  “Adalard, what is your situation?” Adur Jalar, his First Officer, asked.

  “I’m fine, but I want the Rayon I searched. Talk to Engineer Tech Quill. He can fill you in on what was found on my transport. It may be an isolated issue, but I would rather be sure. I believe there is a second, more serious threat—a device that drains the energy from our bodies. I want a complete search of the ship to make sure it is clean. I will give you more information when I have it. Until everything is completed, all crew members are to remain onboard,” he instructed.

  Adur grimaced. “The men aren’t going to be happy. Fortunately, there aren’t very many who are unattached onboard,” he replied.

  Adalard grinned. “Give them a copy of Trelon Reykill’s PVC. That should keep them happy for a while,”
he said.

  Adur laughed. “I want them happy, not comatose. Let’s hope a thorough scan doesn’t take too long.”

  “Agreed. Out,” Adalard responded, ending the connection.

  First things first, he thought. I need to look like a local.

  With a wave of his hand, the clothing he was wearing changed to mimic Mason’s with a few alterations. His black leather pants became faded denim jeans. He kept his boots, black shirt, and vest. His outer jacket changed to dark brown with an interior thermal lining that would keep him warm.

  He held out his hand, and a black hat similar to the ones Chad, Mason, and Samara wore appeared in it. He looked at it with distaste before placing it on his head. A glimpse of his reflection in the window made him laugh. He looked human enough in this outfit.

  Chapter Seven

  Snow was falling again by the time Samara guided the horse into the corral next to the barn. Despite promising herself that she wouldn’t look, the first place her gaze went was to the main house where the new guy had disappeared with Chad. He had been the only thing she could think about all morning while she worked.

  Well, the alien and the strange northern light show coming off of him, she thought.

  She dismounted and tied the reins of the mare to one of the posts. Chad’s truck was gone. She vaguely wondered if the man had gone with him or if he was still in the house. The thought that he could be inside, watching her, made her nervous.

  “Get a grip, Samara,” she scolded herself. “You’ve barely shared six—okay, maybe more—words with him, but that doesn’t mean anything. What you think you saw was just static electricity. Maybe whatever he was wearing had wool or polyester in it or whatever in the hell causes your hair to stick up.”

  She continued lecturing herself as she took care of the horses she had brought down from the upper pasture. She brought them inside the barn one at a time, brushed them, fed them, and made sure they were secure. Bear must have taken a few because there were only five including the mare. She would have to call him later to check.

  A movement outside drew her attention. She hurried over to the partially open door and peered out. It took her a few seconds to realize the man striding across the yard was Adalard. He glanced in the direction of the barn and stopped. She quickly pulled back so he couldn’t see her.

  She heard a low curse, but when she peeked back out, he was gone. Surprised that he could disappear so quickly, she pushed the door open wider and scanned the area, but it was empty.

  “What the heck?” she mumbled.

  Curious, she stepped out of the barn and closed the door behind her. She walked across the yard, searching the ground for his tracks. They led off into the woods. She bit her bottom lip in indecision, scanning the woods for any sign of him.

  “Hey, new guy—Adalard. Are you there?” she called.

  She looked at the ground and focused on following the faint traces in the snow. A few yards into the woods the tracks disappeared. For a rock star, he was pretty light on his feet. She turned in a semi-circle, trying to pick up his tracks when the tips of black boots came within her line of vision.

  Swallowing, she slowly lifted her eyes to his face. She stumbled back a step and almost fell when she realized how close he was. Her gasp froze in her throat when he wrapped his strong fingers around her wrist and pulled her against him.

  “Careful,” he cautioned.

  “You’re pretty good at doing that,” she muttered, pulling away from him.

  “Good at what?” he asked.

  She gave him a rueful grin. “Scaring people,” she replied, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I wouldn’t go too far in the woods without a guide or you may be practicing your survival skills a bit sooner than expected. It’s easy to get lost, and there’s a storm front moving through in a couple of hours. You definitely don’t want to get stuck out here without better clothing.”

  “You care about what happens to me?” he inquired with a pleased smile.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Hell no. I just don’t want to have to pull your dead, frozen ass out of the woods. I’m part of the volunteer rescue team. Freezing my ass off to save your dumb butt is not on my list of things to do today,” she said.

  His smile turned to a scowl. “I can assure you that I can survive very well without assistance,” he stiffly answered.

  “If I had a dollar for every time some know-it-all said that, I’d be rich. Listen, we’re short-handed today. I’ve still got work to do. Did you at least tell Mason or Chad where you were going?” she inquired.

  “No,” he replied in a clipped tone.

  She pulled her hands out of her pockets. Shaking her head, she bit her tongue against saying anything more caustic. He was a paying client, and she was only the hired help. It wasn’t her place to babysit those that came here. She was positive Chad and Mason would have gone over the rules with him and had him sign the waiver releasing the ranch and all personnel of any responsibility if he decided to do something stupid—like go off into unfamiliar woods right before a snow storm while dressed inappropriately, and without telling anyone.

  “Did Mason and Chad go over the rules with you?” she asked in a brisk tone.

  “Yes, and as I explained to them, I don’t follow rules,” he announced.

  She took a step and patted him on the chest. “Well, that is very selfish of you because while you may not give a shit about your own life, what you do can endanger others. I’ve fulfilled my responsibility by warning you. Now I’ve got work to do,” she snapped.

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from walking away. Her eyes locked with his. There were flecks of gold mixed in his glowing eyes, and it didn’t look like he was wearing contacts.

  She looked down at his hand. His grip was strong, warm, and there was a tingling feeling through her clothing. Biting her lip, she reached out to touch the colors swirling between them.

  “What is going on?” she asked, running her fingers through the colors.

  “It is—complicated,” he replied in a measured tone.

  She gave him a wary look. “Explain ‘complicated’,” she said.

  He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. A truck driving by caught her attention. When she looked back, Adalard was gone. She glanced wildly around, searching for him. She turned back to the road when she heard a truck door slam.

  “Hey, Samara, you around here?” an all too familiar voice called out.

  “Damn-it-all-to-hell! I swear if any of the others got thrown in jail today, they can rot there ‘til next spring,” she growled, clenching her fists.

  She exited the edge of the woods in time to see Gary wander into the barn. Cursing under her breath, she jogged across the yard. She untethered the mare she had been riding from the post and led her into the barn.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Gary jumped and twisted around, facing her. She sneered and shook her head when she saw his black eyes, along with a busted nose and lip. He also had a bandage on his forehead that was stained with blood.

  “No,” she said, walking by him.

  “I didn’t ask for anything,” he defended.

  She stopped and looked him up and down before turning and leading the mare into a clean stall. Gary stood in the doorway as she removed the mare’s saddle, blanket, and bridle. Pushing past him, she placed the saddle and blanket on a sawhorse outside of the door before hanging the bridle on a hook. She retrieved a horse brush from the box attached to the wall next to the stall door and walked past him again. With long soothing strokes, she began brushing down the mare.

  “Rob said you were going to help,” Gary began.

  “I’m not giving you the money. I’ll stop by Pat’s on the way home. I didn’t have time this morning. Unlike some people, I like being on time and keeping my job,” she said.

  “You don’t have to—go by Pat’s, I mean. You could give the money to Brit. I k
now you trust him,” Gary suggested.

  “No. I’m not throwing away half of my savings so that you can bully Brit and lose it,” she retorted.

  “Half—so you’ve got more,” Gary excitedly commented.

  Samara groaned at her slip of the tongue. Her life was going to be a living hell if Mason didn’t agree to let her rent the place above the barn. If Gary didn’t hound her, Rob would. Brit would give her the poor-pitiful-me look and beg her to give up every last penny to shut them up. Jerry would steal the money and blame her for making him do it. It was Jerry that she worried about the most.

  She looked over the mare at Gary. “Be very careful what you say, Gary. I have no problem telling you to go to hell for what you did and leaving you and the others to deal with whatever fallout comes from last night,” she warned.

  “Geez, Sam, I didn’t mean it. I was on a winning streak. I’ve never seen a pot that big before. When that city slicker came in and asked to join, it was like winning the lottery over and over. I was winning—” he explained in an earnest voice.

  She paused and shook her head. “You were played, Gary. There is no lottery winning for us. You were set up and you fell for it. Those men played you and you… fell… for… it.” She bit out the last four words in a slow, teeth-clenching growl. “The problem is… you made me a part of it without my permission. I said I’d help you as much as I could, and I will, but this is it. I’m done with all of you. Leave me out of your messes,” she said.

  Gary looked down at his feet. “You don’t know what it feels like to always be a failure, Sam. Mom and Dad…,” he muttered.

  “Freakin’ hell! Are you listening to yourself? Didn’t you hear a thing I just said? The answer is NO! You are not using Mom and Dad as an excuse. I am not going to allow you to use me anymore. You know what… you can get yourself out of this mess on your own. I rescind my offer. One way or another, I will be out of the house tonight even if I have to sleep in my truck. I AM DONE with all of you. Which one put you up to this?” she demanded.

  He looked at her with a pleading expression. “Which one?” she demanded.