by T. S. Ryder
Cheryl stepped towards the warriors. "If it's a crime for the queen to shed blood, then it is a crime for any person to shed blood. I killed a man. I killed him to defend myself and my kings. When Bjorn and Maskin were presented to me and I was told I had to choose one or the other, I couldn't make the choice. I know now it was because my choice was both. But this priest insisted I choose one or the other. When I couldn't, he declared that the Gods would choose which one to be king, by the first to put a child in me. But he knew that warrior-slaves are unable to have children. The will of the Gods? Or his own? He was choosing my king for me when he made that declaration."
"You're a slave!" Quincy shouted, his fists balling. His medium-dark blue skin had a darker tinge in his face, belying his anger. "You are a slave. It is your duty to bow to the will of your superior!"
But even as he was speaking, Cheryl moved forward and the warrior-slaves parted for her. The human chewed on her lip, a brief look of uncertainty coming over her face. But when they did not stop her, she went to Bjorn's side and took him by the hand. She smiled at him and turned back to the warrior-slaves.
"They fear us. Men like him." She pointed at the priest. "They fear us because we are strong. They don't want us to know our own strength. They don't want us to choose because they know as soon as we do, we won't choose them."
"She's not even Temadian. Kill her!" Gobs of spittle flew from Quincy's mouth. "Kill them both! They'll destroy our world. They'll let the Apdratee people take our resources, they'll—"
"No." One of the warrior-slaves turned. "No, they won't. Maskin, Hero of the Apdratee Invasion, was chosen with the prince. He would never allow any other species to steal our resources. A slave and a prince as our kings. A queen who chooses both of them… Is it possible?"
He turned back to Cheryl. Bjorn could feel her shaking, but she nodded. "I never thought I had a choice in my life, in my fate. But we all have that choice."
"You are all traitors and—" Quincy cut himself off as the swords that had been pointed at Bjorn spun to face him. The priest's face took on a sickly turquoise color and he backed away. His head swung from side to side and he swallowed hard. "The Gods will punish you all for this. You'll all die!"
Cheryl reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out the dagger. She gripped it tightly in her hand. "I came here, having made the decision to kill you, Quincy. I was going to kill you so that you couldn't force me to be your queen. But… a part of making choices is the ability to change our minds. Isn't it?"
She looked at Bjorn, uncertainty warring in her eyes. The prince nodded. He held his breath as he watched her move through the warrior-slaves, towards Quincy. Two of the warriors grabbed the priest's arms and held him still, waiting for her decision.
Bjorn held his breath.
"Priest Quincy, you have a choice. You live to serve me and my kings, or you die." Cheryl's hands shook. "Choose."
Quincy glared at her, but shook off the warriors and knelt. "I swear to serve you and your kings. If I ever raise my hand against you in rebellion, may the Gods smite me dead."
Bjorn let out a breath. Whether the priest was truthful or not, he would be spending the rest of his life under constant surveillance. Cheryl nodded in satisfaction and ran back to Bjorn. The prince welcomed her into his arms gladly.
When he had decided to become king, he thought that he would be changing the world. He never expected to be able to share the burden, and now he had a queen and a fellow king. For the first time, he thought that it was really, truly possible.
"Maskin. We have to get him back to Thoutle or he'll die." Bjorn looked at the warriors around them. "Do you have a ship?"
"Yes. If you'll show us where the Hero is, we'll make sure the three of you return to the planet safely."
Bjorn nodded his thanks. He squeezed Cheryl's hand as they headed back to Maskin, and to their new life.
Chapter Thirteen: Cheryl
Two Months Later
Cheryl almost danced as she went down the corridors to the rooms she, Maskin and Bjorn shared. Her two kings were inside, talking in low voices. Bjorn was twisting a silk belt in his hands. Cheryl eyed the belt with longing, but while Maskin's wound had healed with only a scar left behind, he didn't quite have his old strength back yet.
She would have loved to start playing their old games again, but his health came first.
"Cheryl." Bjorn moved across the room and retrieved a drink. "I was just reminding Maskin about how you disobeyed my instructions when you faced Quincy."
"I don't want to talk about him." Cheryl had been more than happy when Quincy was stripped of his position as priest and was instead assigned to repair acolytes when they broke down. She didn't trust his vows of loyalty but also didn't want to kill him. In a strange way, she did owe him the life she had now. "I have something very exciting to tell you."
"Don't try to change the subject. You could have gotten yourself hurt." Maskin caught her around the waist and pulled her closer. "You should never have put yourself in danger, Cheryl. What if Quincy had wanted to kill you? We want you to be comfortable with making your own choices, but with choice comes consequence. You understand that, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Cheryl twisted in his grasp, but he didn't release her. If anything, his grip tightened. A familiar predatory look was in his eye and her heart jumped. She stopped struggling. "Are you certain you're well enough?"
From the other side of the bed, Bjorn nodded. "He's more than strong enough to give you the consequences. Just don't do it too hard, Maskin. Remember, it's my turn with her delectable ass."
Cheryl opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but before she could, Maskin had pulled her over his lap. His knees dug into her stomach. The human yelped as he flipped her skirt up over her. Her heart was in her throat as the heat began building in her core. Still, she half-heartedly struggled, pinching at Maskin's leg. He laughed at her efforts.
"Stop," he said.
"I'm not going to stop." Her voice had dropped low. "You'll have to tie me up."
Bjorn circled the bed. "Sounds good to me."
Cheryl put her hands behind her back, grinning. Bjorn tied her quickly with the silk belt while Maskin removed her underwear. His heavy hand came down on her bare butt, the sting making Cheryl wince. She giggled as the slight pain made the fire in her core twist. It was echoed by Bjorn's chuckle as he began to undress. Maskin spanked her again. A quick gasp escaped this time. Her warrior brushed her hair from her face.
"What do you think? Should I punish you more?"
"That didn't even hurt." She tried to give him a rebellious look but ended up giggling too hard.
Maskin shook his head. "What will we do with this defiant woman, Bjorn?"
"Maybe try adding this." He uncapped a vial, and Cheryl smelled rosewood oil. He poured it generously on her ass. "That might add to the sting."
Maskin slapped her ass again. The extra moisture made it hurt enough that Cheryl yelped. He stopped there, though, instead massaging the oil into her. The queen wriggled, trying to encourage him to keep spanking her, but apparently, he was done. Bjorn picked her up off the warrior's lap and laid her on the bed, kissing her hard as he followed her down. He was already ready, and so was she.
"I thought I'd go crazy with need before you were ready to join us again," Bjorn grumbled to Maskin as the warrior stripped off his clothes.
Cheryl held her breath, eyes brightening. They weren't just teasing her–after what felt like far too long they were finally going to make love again. She groaned as Bjorn rolled off her and shifted her to her side. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but she liked it that way. He positioned himself behind her and eased in slowly. Cheryl's eyes rolled into the back of her head as all her nerves started tingling, already making her legs tremble.
"I'm not going to last long," she moaned. "Maybe I should—"
"No." Bjorn began fondling her breast as Maskin laid before her and lifted her leg over his hip. "We
've been waiting a long time until we could both share you like this. So just relax, Lapis Lazuli. We've got this."
As Maskin eased in, Bjorn withdrew slightly. The fire exploded to all parts of her body. After all this time there was no more pain as they took her together, and they began an alternating rhythm that had Cheryl screaming until she was out of breath. Their grunts matched the rhythm, the three of them building at the same pace, harder and faster. Cheryl gasped, the air seeming to thin as their heady scents surrounded her. It was all too much and she scratched at Bjorn's belly against her hands. She bit down hard on Maskin's shoulder.
The three of them finished together, Cheryl's body writhing between the kings, their arms clamped over her to keep her still. Maskin's face buried into her neck, kissing her feverishly. Bjorn rested his head on hers. Slowly, the three of them grew still.
"Well. I think you learned your lesson," Maskin whispered. He moved away carefully, Bjorn following suit. They lay flat on their backs, Cheryl rolling to her stomach.
A lazy smile crossed her face. "If that's my punishment, I'll be disobedient more often."
"Not too often, I hope," Bjorn said. "But you said you had exciting news. Have your new dresses come in?"
"No. Well, yes." Cheryl tried to push herself up, but with her hands still behind her back, it was impossible. "But that's not what I was going to tell you. I went to the fertility temple today to be checked."
Both men froze.
"I'm pregnant! And the DNA scans show that our cloning idea worked. The baby will be of all three of us."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Bjorn hurried to untie her. "You shouldn't have let us be so rough with you, Lapis Lazuli."
Cheryl's brow furrowed as Maskin picked her up and tucked her into the bed. Worry shone from his eyes as he stroked her hair from her face. She opened her mouth to tell them it was okay, but neither of them let her talk. Bjorn got water for her, Maskin tucked the blankets to her chin, worrying about a chill.
"It's fine, though," she protested. "I asked the acolytes and they said—"
"Do you need anything to eat?" Maskin asked. "What about a foot rub?"
Cheryl shook her head. She smiled at her two kings as they crowded around her, firing question after question about her wellbeing without giving her a chance to answer.
Well. There was one thing for certain. This was going to be a great nine months.
*****
THE END
Mated to the Barbarian Heir
Description
He’s harsh, cold and he wants me. And there’s no way I can escape
Prince Darilth has plundered the universe for decades, but still hasn’t found the right woman. Time’s ticking. Unless he finds a mate and produces an heir very soon, he will never be King.
The moment his inner dragon sees Ella, he knows she is his mate. She is the one who can awaken the Draco’s Eye, an ancient stone with healing powers that has been dormant for centuries. What better way to have her than to abduct and claim her?
Ella is a nun by force. She has taken vows of celibacy, but longs to break free from the convent. One night, she sees a strange light. The next thing she knows she is pinned to a tree by an alien who claims her mouth and has her thinking sinful thoughts.
Should she marry this harsh and cold alien, like he wants her to? Will she be a sinner if she does? Either way, she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. He won’t take no for an answer.
But enemies are on the lookout. Darilth’s brother wants the throne and the stone and will destroy anyone in his way. Ella is thrown into the dark dungeons and used as bait. She has only one hope: Darilth.
Will he come and save her and the baby growing inside of her? Will they make it out alive? Can Darilth claim his throne and rule his kingdom?
Prologue
There was a time when he thought he was born cursed. Yes, cursed, because he was past his age according to the Elder, the King, and he still didn’t have a mate. His pride hurt, rage took him over and he became reckless, plundering planets and invading cities. It had been a few decades since he was exiled to R13, a distant moon of Iovis.
As a Drakonaar, Prince Darilth was heir to the Rothgar throne. They were an ancient race descended from dragon-like creatures who had first lived on the ice planet of Iovis for thousands of years.
When the Drakonaar first invaded the planet centuries ago, they didn’t have the ability to shape-shift. The Rothgar King at that time mated with the native Dragon Queen, birthing the first hybrid Drakonaar with the ability to shape-shift into a dragon form and also convert his mate into a shifter. Thus, over the years, the bloodline evolved into powerful shapeshifters.
Now, as heir to the Rothgar throne, Prince Darilth’s duty was to find his true mate, produce an heir, and regain the power of the Draco’s Eye. The Eye was an ancient blue stone with ultimate healing powers – one that could only be awakened by his true mate.
The power of the Eye could heal the sick and injured and make the bearer a powerful ruler of the galaxy: a protector of his home planet and of the worlds in his star system. But at the same time, in the wrong hands, it could become a dark force of destruction, giving the bearer limitless power to invade and annihilate planets, enslaving their people.
The Eye’s magic had been dormant since the last worthy bearer died a few centuries back. It had been handed down to the next successor, his great, great grandfather. Unfortunately, his mate could not awaken it. They could no longer protect the planets that belonged to their kingdom. War broke out some time later as barbarians from a distant galaxy invaded, attacking the neighboring planets. Now Iovis was threatened as well.
So, the burden of finding a true mate fell on his shoulders.
It was a challenge, and the Prince feared he would end up like his ancestors, unable to find her. He remembered the witch’s words all those years ago. He had stood before her and looked straight into her eyes while she had the vision. She had said his true mate was of another world. A woman who was different even among her own kind.
His men had searched far across the Delta Quadrant for this woman. Yet, all efforts had been futile. What was he missing? As the years rolled by, he became ever more doubtful of the witch’s prophecy.
His failure to find his true mate had made him cynical. When his commander told him he might have a better chance at finding her on the distant space station Andromeda 13, he reluctantly agreed to embark on a new search mission. They were on their way there, crossing a galaxy they had never been to before, when one of the ship’s engines failed. They were forced to crash land on the nearest planet - a small world called Earth.
It had been a few Earth days, as he had come to know them, since they had crashed. Earth was warm. The air was thick, gravity heavy, and walking difficult. The breathing pills they always carried helped him through the day.
As he gazed at the woman standing outside the stone and brick building tending to her garden, he wondered why he was so fascinated by her. There was something about her that made him gaze at her as she worked throughout the late afternoon. Her stark white skin almost made her seem like a ghost – a wraith. Her long, ice-blonde hair glistened in the sun. She seems unusual, he thought. Totally different from the others. She had the same features as other humans, but her hair and skin made her look different. Odd, he thought. She almost seemed one of his own kind. His breath hitched then, the witch’s words storming back to him...
She would be of another world, but different from her own kind...
She is the one, his inner dragon, Mekarth, hissed. She’s your true mate.
He had to be careful, yet he knew she couldn’t see him. He had hidden among the trees almost a hundred yards away, his hood pulled down over his face and his dark clothing camouflaged against the thicket. He didn’t want to draw any undue attention from the inhabitants of this planet. The humans. They were known to be violent, thus it would be better if he didn’t interact with them. He saw her go inside. For a brief momen
t, he had the strange urge to follow her, but he stopped himself. He took a deep breath as he turned, returning to fix his ship.
Chapter One
Earth – Present Day
She was a ghost. A wraith that walked the silent and gloomy halls of the Convent dressed in her white habit. Born with albinism, Ella Stewart had stark white skin and silver-white hair that made her an outcast.
The night was eerily silent as she stood at the small window of her room staring out at the night sky. Sleep evaded her. Almost all of the girls had left for summer holidays, gone home to their families. Except her. Nobody came to pick her up. Nobody called. She was alone and nobody cared. She still remembered the day her aunt had decided to send her there. Her aunt’s words still rang in her ears, cold as ice. She was only nine... And she had stood at the top landing of the stairs, frozen, listening to her aunt and uncle’s conversation.
“I can’t take care of her anymore. She’s already having problems at school with other kids,” her aunt Nora had said. “She would be better off at the Convent.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” her husband said. Within the next few days, she was sent packing here.
Tears blurred her vision until she took off her glasses and wiped them off her face at the bitter memory. She thought she would be free when she came of age. She thought she would leave the Convent and go out into the world, but fate had decided otherwise. She was forced to take the vows when she turned eighteen. Her aunt thought she would be better off as a nun since her “condition” would not allow her to do any other job. She began teaching at the convent’s senior school. Since then, her life hadn’t become any better, losing a little more color every day.