Barbarian Outcast (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 1)

by Aaron Crash

  They finally went with a white dress that Jenny pinned in place, careful not to stick the Sullied elf. She did kiss Lillee’s back after giving the soft skin a little lick. All that fighting and drama had the swamp woman’s juices flowing. Lillee, with her essess in place, wasn’t moved by her lust.

  For Jenny, however, it was better she focused on her own desires than the memory of killing Siteev Ckins. That murder felt like a scream inside the princess.

  Jenny had engineered the death of her enemies in Josentown—she’d hired killers and she’d mixed poison, but she’d never taken a life herself. This was her first, and her mind wouldn’t let her alone. Wine would help. Or the thick beer they brought up for the Harvest Festival.

  Better, she’d kiss Ymir, get him randy, and then run him back to their apartment where he could unleash his passion on her, on Lillee, on them both.

  First, though, the dancing.

  Jenny stepped back and appraised her work. With Lillee’s brown sandals, the lacy white dress was cute, if you didn’t look at it too long.

  “We’ll have to buy you a whole new wardrobe,” Jenny said. “That tunic you wear has me dying—no, really, dying of boredom. The blue cape doesn’t help, Lillee! It doesn’t help at all!”

  The elf girl rolled her eyes.

  A little hair styling, a little makeup, and out of the apartment they went. The pair raced through the corridors, through the Librarium, and into the Throne Auditorium.

  Nellybelle Tucker was with the Swamp Coast women, and they swayed with her near the side of the hall where a few of the pews had been set up. Darisbeau, Odd Corry, and the Viscount Roger Knellnapp were with them, which shouldn’t have happened. The Cujans and the Josens were enemies, yet Daris seemed to be getting familiar with a few of the women.

  Jenny and Lillee both drew stares, from them and from everyone at the dance. Already the rumors were spreading about them. For one instant, the Josentown princess wanted to run back to her room.

  Then she realized Nelly didn’t know a thing about her and Ymir. And in return, the two hadn’t talked about the toad spell Nelly had cast on the clansman. So each had their own secrets.

  Doubt seized her. What was she doing with Ymir? Nelly and the others would exclude her. Auntie Jia might very well send assassins. This was unwise.

  Then Jenny’s eyes went to the main floor, where Ymir stood in a line across from Professor Issa Leel, who seemed like she was five minutes from unleashing an ice storm on her least favorite scholar.

  Of course Ymir knew the steps. He’d read three books on courtly manners and arts, and at least one tome had gone into great depth on certain dances from the Akkridorian Empire that had remained popular.

  Watching him step, with that shit-eating grin on his face, put a smile on Jennybelle Josen’s face. That was why he’d wanted to get to the dance. He’d wanted to rub the professor’s face in the fact that he was staying.

  Jenny exchanged glances with Nelly. The smiles they gave each other were as fake as they were frigid.

  Ymir had told Jenny about the Princept’s message to him after his First Exam. Someone had intercepted the messenger. That someone? Nelly, of course. She’d wanted Ymir expelled so they could take him home right away. Seeing her old friend fed the anger in the swamp princess’s belly. That anger turned into certainty. She’d made the right decision in sleeping with Ymir and Lillee. Together, the three of them were going to take over the world.

  Might as well start with Old Ironbound.

  WHEN THE SONG FINISHED, Professor Leel didn’t say a word to Ymir. She stomped her way out of the Throne Auditorium.

  The clansman had told the elven teacher he’d dance with her. It took a minute to figure out his placement in the line so that he’d end up as her partner, but he’d figured out the math. Poor Professor Leel. She’d so hoped that she’d be done with him forever.

  The Princept had already sent messengers to tell the faculty that Ymir had been reinstated. They’d reconsidered his performance during the First Exam, and he had passed. Then there was the unfortunate matter with Siteev Ckins, which would be addressed at a later time.

  That night, Ymir was free to do what he wanted. First, he’d drink a bellyful of beer. Then he’d talk with his friends. Lastly? He wanted to spin with Lillee and Jenny, who were both gorgeous, their hair fixed, and a bit of makeup marking their faces. He was getting used to the paint. It did make their eyes pop.

  Ymir had to show them the basics of another kind of dance, but both picked up the moves quickly. Lillee was a natural dancer, but then, she did all the arts so well. The three of them moved through other threesomes. Since this particular dance was from the Age of Withering, it had been designed for threesomes.

  There was still so much he didn’t know about Theran history, and he was anxious to delve deeper, to figure out this strange land that he’d found himself in. There was still the matter of Siteev’s friends, her mysterious “we,” and he knew he’d not seen the last of them, whoever “they” were.

  There were other items on his list...to talk to Toriah Welldeep, who stood alone. And he wanted to mend his friendship with Professor Slurp, who sat with his many Gruul wives on a bench, quaffing down cup after cup of the thick, bitter beer.

  Brodor Blackfoot danced along with Nile Preat, his history professor, and another woman, a tall shapely woman with greenish-blue hair and skin that sparkled. She had huge, round eyes, also greenish-blue, and her movements were graceful. She wasn’t an elf—no pointed ears—yet she didn’t appear to be exactly human. Then it struck him—she was a mermaid, out of the water, on two legs barely covered by her shimmering silver gown.

  He’d heard about merfolk at the Majestrial, but there weren’t any in the Flow imprudens class. Then his eyes caught a few flittering fairies, twelve inches long, and nearly naked. Their flight matched the rhythms to the music, and it was like they were dancing.

  He’d not seen fairies since the opening ceremonies. He wondered why. Perhaps there were also Wingkin from Reytah at the school equally as hidden.

  His education had only started. He thumbed the Black Ice Ring on his hand. He’d take it off. He’d secret it away. But was he done with the Akkiric Rings? No, there were seven others, and if one could focus his power, wouldn’t he be more powerful with two? Or maybe he’d craft two others for Lillee and Jenny. Either way, he was curious. Were the rings evil? He’d do research and find out. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t feel any different with the ring on.

  As he danced, he reminded himself he couldn’t become too comfortable with this magic nonsense. His true power was in his muscles and his cunning. Magic was only a weapon he would yield when it made sense to do so.

  And he had to be careful as well, since the dusza had been a curse from the Lonely Man. And who was the sleeper? It seemed to Ymir that it was him, waking up to his own power.

  His heart still longed for the tundra. He knew the homesickness would never leave him, but he had found a new home at Old Ironbound.

  After the dance, Jenny left first since for the time being they had to be careful. As for Ymir and Lillee, both walked through the ranks of the Swamp Coast women. He marched up to Nelly, curled his fist, and went to hit her. He was quick. She was surprised. She offered up no defense.

  He tweaked her nose between his index finger and his thumb. “I know you cursed me, Nelly. This is the only warning I’ll give you. Stay away from me, witch, or I’ll do worse than pinch your fucking nose.”

  He turned and nodded at Daris and Odd the Smirk. “You two will still cover Lillee’s work study. I’ll do my own for now. I’ll be throwing cards more in the Unicorn’s Uht, or maybe I’ll take my game to StormCry. I’m in need of money, and while you southerners believe differently, I find money relatively easy to come by.”

  Both were as speechless as Nelly.

  Ymir patted Lillee’s hand. “I need to do one more thing before I leave. Are you okay to go back to Jenny’s alone?”

  Th
e elf girl nodded, kissed his cheek, and walked away. The white dress didn’t flatter her figure any, but he knew what lay underneath. And a naked Lillee was a fine thing indeed.

  Ymir approached Toriah Welldeep. She was so pink, so wide, so pretty. Her gorgeous red hair framed her cute freckled face in a waterfall of braids. Her green eyes were so bright and cheery.

  Then she saw him approaching. The Morbuskor woman blushed, turned, and nearly ran out of the auditorium. Tori had said they could never be together. What could that mean? He didn’t know. Sometimes these Theran woman could be as mysterious as the coastal clouds.

  Speaking of which, Ymir strode into the Librarium Citadel to find Gatha reading under a Sunfire lantern. He went over and closed the book right under her eyes.

  The orc woman leaned back in her chair. “I should cut your throat, boy. I’ve killed others for less. But I won’t.”

  He laughed. He took in her white hair, rose-colored eyes, and green skin. With her wide jaw, she was a strange-looking woman, yet so strong, so muscled, still so beautiful. He imagined that fucking her would be very close to fighting. “So many of the women I’m meeting tonight have murdered before. And why won’t you cut my throat, Gatha?”

  “Because it seems you fought and won tonight.” She nodded at him. “I respect strength, boy. Keep being strong, and you might win the honor of my scrutiny.”

  “You, girl, can keep your scrutiny. I don’t want it.” He opened her book back up to the exact page she’d been reading. He stabbed a finger at the paragraph where her eyes had been.

  Then he walked away from her, a little thrill in his belly. Getting a kind word from Gatha was just one more victory. He really didn’t need her scrutiny. Her hate-filled flirtation was amusing enough.

  He walked to the archway leading out of the citadel. The cloudy gray skies continued to pound rain onto the Flow courtyard’s cobblestones.

  He crossed the bridge over the moat and hurried through the downpour to the covered walkway which led to Jenny’s apartment. He pushed open the door to find the two women sitting on the couch. Rain streaked down the glass doors and windows.

  He heard Lillee say, “They’ll find out about you and Ymir eventually.”

  Ymir closed the door behind him. “Nelly will,” he agreed.

  Jenny shrugged. “I get love, and I get trouble, and ain’t that the way it’s supposed to be?”

  They talked more, until the dawn brought a cold wind that rattled the apartment and churned the sea. The sea alley would have a foot of water in it, at least. The sea cells would be misty and freezing.

  Not Jenny’s suite.

  Ymir sat on her bed.

  Jenny had stepped out of her slippers and unzipped her dress. It was creeping down her big breasts, her nipples still hidden in the fabric. She stepped up and put Ymir’s hands on her hips. He squeezed them and kissed her cleavage.

  Lillee was already naked and smiling at him and at Jenny. Her essess cuff lay on the table in the other room.

  “I thought I’d never find another home,” the Sullied elf said. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

  Ymir had never seen anyone look so naked and vulnerable. He felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I didn’t think I would either. But here we are.”

  “Welcome to our home.” Jenny slid her dress down. “Soon enough, you two will be the only family I have.”

  The three outcasts made love until sleep claimed the two women.

  Ymir lay awake. He knew they would have other enemies and other adventures, but they could find rest in the warmth of each other as the cruel winds brought freezing rains.

  He thought of his first day at Old Ironbound, the day he’d passed the Open Exam. His father’s words came to him once more: When you strike, strike hard. Always use your full strength in whatever you do.

  He’d done that at the Majestrial Collegium Universitas. He would continue to use his full strength in battle, in learning to control his dusza, and in loving his women.

  The magic in him thrummed. He felt grateful for the power.

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

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  Looking for more sexy harem adventure, and need it right this minute? Check out: Denver Fury (American Dragons Book 1). Or keep reading to take a sneak peek.

  Gather an escort. Acquire a dragon hoard. Build an empire...

  STEVEN WHIPP, A NORMAL, poor college student, is kissed and shot on the night of his twentieth birthday. He realizes three things: he’s bulletproof, he’s a dragon, and everything he’s ever wanted is within his reach. But the attempts on his life are just the beginning of his troubles.

  Steven is a Dragonsoul—a magical race of beings who have thrived, hidden from the eyes of humans, in control of the world. And not just any Dragonsoul, but the last in a long line of Arch-Sorcerers, thought long dead. Now he is being hunted, and he must unlock his powers through battle and sex or ancient forces and old feuds will destroy him and all he loves.

  From the author of the LitRPG epic War God’s Mantle comes a brand new Pulp Harem Adventure!

  Chapter One

  IT WAS GOING TO BE one of those nights at the Coffee Clutch. You’d think midnight in a Denver coffee shop would be pretty chill, and it was most of the time. But then things can get weird on the night before a guy’s twentieth birthday.

  Steven Whipp grabbed the mop out of the cleaning closet just as Bud came in and kicked the water bucket. “Oops,” Bud sneered. “I just gave you more to mop up. Gotta earn that minimum wage, Cool Whipp.”

  Steven tried to ignore the guy. What was the point of getting in a fight and losing his job over some bully messing with him? The cleaning company job was the one job that Steven actually liked. His other two jobs—shelving books at the Denver Metro University’s library and working in the cafeteria—were stupidly boring. Besides, there was no Tessa Ross there to make them bearable.

  Bud swaggered back to the employee lockers to grab his jacket and backpack. He’d leave early and let Tessa close down the latte machines and other equipment. It was unfair to Tessa, but Steven could relax once the jerk-off left.

  Steven maneuvered the rolling bucket and mop out of the cleaning closet and into the main area of the coffee shop. Chairs crowned the tables, and while the bright overhead lights had been turned off, the neon signs cast a multicolored light like a buzzing rainbow. Tessa cleaned behind the bar, wiping off the machines with a rag and listening to music on her phone through one earbud. The other dangled free.

  Even late on a Wednesday night, traffic still moved down Broadway in a parade of lights.

  Before Steven started mopping, he inhaled and smelled the sweetly bitter coffee and Tessa’s perfume. He so wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but she was light-years out of his league.

  She was a hipster chick—tattoos, piercings, and one side of her dark hair shaved. She dressed in black and wasn’t afraid of showing a vast valley of pale cleavage. She was a thicker girl, but Steven didn’t mind a bit. He liked women with hips. While Tessa was ultra-cool and li
stened to music he’d never heard of, Steven was just an everyday average normal guy—medium height, medium weight, medium everything. He did like his hair, though, which was thick and inky. That was all he had going for him. He was too busy dealing with three jobs and working his way to a bachelor’s degree to be cool. He’d never be able to afford even a single tattoo. He wasn’t exactly shy, but he wasn’t all that outgoing either.

  He splashed the mop down and started in the far corner by the door. If he timed it right, he’d get to the coffee bar right when Tessa finished. On good nights, she’d stay, and they’d talk. On bad nights, she’d leave to hook up with someone, guy or girl. Tessa was pansexual and proud of it. On those nights, Steven wanted to burn the entire city down out of mad jealousy.

  Bud walked out of the back room wearing what he called his extroverted bomber jacket and sunglasses, even though it was past midnight. He tossed Tessa a look and then did what he normally did. He pointed to a spot and said, “Hey, Cool Whipp, you missed a spot.”

  He laughed at his own joke. Instead of leaving, he paused. “What kind of a name is Whipp anyway?”

  Steven felt Tessa watching them. He wanted to shove Bud, or come up with a snappy comeback, but his head was blank. Truthfully, he didn’t much like his last name either.

  “It’s a name,” Steven said. “Just leave, Bud.”

  The guy smirked. “That’s the thing. You can’t tell me what to do. You’re just the cleaning guy. Tessa and I are baristas. We’re important. You’re not. We’re the lords, and you’re the servant, Cool Whipp.”

  Steven could picture himself slapping Bud across the face with the mop, but then Bud would contact the owners of the Coffee Clutch and there went that job. He’d have to spend a fortune on coffee just to spend time with Tessa.