by Abella Ward
“The Draco’s Eye... You need to learn to use its powers. It’s a great gift to those who bear it,” she said.
Merelith’s communicator beeped just then. It was Dr. Wyern.
“We must go now,” she said, panicked. “Ella is in labor.”
***
Anxiousness flitted across Darilth’s sapphire blue eyes as they made their way to the docking station.
They chose the fastest ship to take them to R13, making the journey in almost half the time a normal spacecraft would. For Darilth, the next hours on the ship were the most torturous ever. What if she didn’t make it?
Please hang in there, Ella. Mekarth wailed, already restless and pacing around.
Merelith sat in her seat and checked the messages on her communicator. “The Council has made their decision. Keralth will be tried for the murder of his father and the misuse of power against his brother and his mate,” she said with a smile.
Darilth nodded and continued brooding, and Merelith noticed the drained look on his face. He seemed to have aged.
“We must arrive before she delivers the baby,” Merelith said, concerned. “Her life is in grave danger. She won’t survive for long after the birth. She needs you now more than ever. Only your Drakonaar blood can save her.”
Darilth took a swig of his wine. Taking a deep breath to calm his frantically racing heart, he raked a hand through his long hair. The ship wasn’t moving fast enough. All he could think of was how much pain she must be in. The feeling of helplessness brought tears to his eyes. He roughly wiped them away with the back of his hand. All he could do was wait and see what fate had in store for him.
Chapter Ten
Birth of the Half-blood Prince
Ella writhed in pain as Darilth stood there helpless, holding her hand. The baby was too big and she didn’t have the strength to push. Dr. Wyern was trying to keep track of the contractions. But he was getting hopeless. The baby was too big and might break the mother’s bones. He would have to go for a C-Section.
Merelith stood by, reciting incantations that would ease her pain a little, but the situation seemed grave. Ella was pale and gray. Her skin was clammy and her hands were growing cold. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Yet, Darilth saw that there was still a glimmer of hope in her eyes, even though it was quickly contorted by pain.
“D... Darilth,” she gasped, “If I... die... please... take care of my baby.”
“No, you are not to die, Ella!” Darilth’s voice broke as he blinked and held her hand tighter. He kissed her face, again and again, trying to rid her of the horrible pain she was in. “You will live! You are not going to leave me alone!”
But she was too weak to respond.
“I can’t give her anesthesia. I need her to be conscious. Spinal Epidural will do,” Dr. Wyern said as he injected her with the drugs. Then he made the first incision.
Soon, the cries of a baby filled the air and eased some of the tension. It was a beautiful boy. Ella smiled faintly as she looked at her son. He was half human and half Drakonaar. A true half-blood prince. The subtle scales on his temples were there but he had human eyebrows too.
Ella was relieved but could feel herself slipping away.
“Darilth, you must do it now,” Merelith said.
Darilth nodded and cut his wrist with his knife. He then sucked his blood filling his mouth. Then he cupped her chin with one hand and closed his mouth on hers, slowly draining his dragon blood down her throat with the swift movement of his tongue. All the while, Merelith recited incantations.
He made her drink his blood until she drifted into a deep slumber. He knew she would be fine when she awakened and arose like a phoenix. Yet, she would have changed. She would be one of them, a Drakonaar. It would take some time for her to cope with the change. The Ella he fell in love with would still be there – her soul just the same. The same innocent woman he adored. But she would be much stronger than before. And she would be his Queen forever.
***
Darilth walked down the great halls of the castle toward his chambers. The Council meeting had just ended and the Chief had finally sentenced Keralth to death. He would be executed the next day. The dagger Keralth had used to stab his father was found as well as the assassin who killed the guard and the maid. Before they could get him to confess, though, he killed himself.
Darilth was at peace, but part of him felt sad. He just wished his father were alive to see his grandson. He would have seen then that his son was truly worthy of the throne. But it wasn’t destined to be. He took a deep breath and quietly entered his chambers.
***
Ella woke up. The first thing she saw was the light coming through the large window of the room. She was at the castle. She tried sitting up, but her head spun. Otherwise, she felt better, rejuvenated, as if filled with some kind of renewed energy. She looked at her hands. They were the same, but she felt different and she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Suddenly, she thought of her baby. Where was he? She slowly got out of bed and walked up to the window. She stopped halfway when she caught her reflection in the mirror at the opposite wall. She wore an ivory and gold chiffon dress. The gold, laser-cut, intricate motif covered her neck up to her breasts in a halter fashion. The fabric beneath the motif clung to her breasts, and the sheer fall of the gown just below her waist gave her an ethereal look. What caught her attention was that she was no longer an albino - no longer even human. She was one of them: a Drakonaar. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was confident and beautiful. Her hair was silver-white with a beautiful sheen. Her eyes were now a deep shade of sapphire blue. Her skin was still pale, but a different shade of white. She touched the subtle scales that appeared on her temples and forehead. The brow-line was prominent with its subtle scaly ridges. She thought she looked strange but beautiful.
She was still gazing at her new image when Darilth came up behind her and wrapped two strong arms around her waist, his hard body against her soft one. He kissed her neck, his nose in her hair. Her scent was more exotic now, headier even.
“Darilth...” she whispered and turned in his arms, facing him. “How did this happen?” she asked him.
“I promised you that I would make you my queen, remember?” he said with that gorgeous smile of his. “I couldn’t let you die so soon.”
She simply gazed back at him in wonder. He claimed her mouth by his own with a passion so fervent and demanding that it took her breath away.
“Where’s our baby?” she asked.
“Come here,” he said in his low voice as he led her toward the other end of the room. A crib was placed there alongside one wall and in it slept their son peacefully.
“Thank you, Ella, for this wonderful gift. Thank you for giving me a reason to live,” he said, kissing her again.
“You are welcome, husband,” she said smiling her dazzling, alluring smile. She picked up the baby and held him close to her heart.
“What should we call him?” she asked.
“Prince Zoralth Rothgar,” Darilth said, smiling down at his son. “It means brave warrior.”
“I like it,” she said as she rested her head on his chest, the baby between them.
Epilogue
Six months later, Prince Darilth Rothgar was crowned the King of the Rothgar throne, and Ella Darilth Rothgar was crowned his Queen. The ceremony was grand and the people of Iovis celebrated their new King and Queen.
It took Ella a few months to adjust to her new form. The dizziness and headaches went away eventually and Darilth taught her how to summon her inner dragon. It was a strange and thrilling experience for her when she first shifted form. It was as if she were discovering a whole new side of her inner self. Her dragon was pure and graceful, a manifestation of her soul. Darilth named it Saphira the Magnificent.
Their son grew up fast – faster than a human child. He seemed to be two years old when he was actually six months. He was an unusually intelligent ki
d with bright blue eyes and dark hair. Merelith predicted that he would grow to be a strong warrior, stronger than other Drakonaars as he was a half-blood prince. Ella knew that she was finally home, and she was eternally grateful for that.
*****
THE END
Did you like what you read?
”Mated to the Barbarian Heir“ is a standalone book in a series of scifi romance novels, featuring the Space Station Andromeda 13. Other parts of the series:
- Slave to the Barbarian King
- Auctioned to the Barbarian Warrior
The books each have a guaranteed HEA and contain plenty of action, lust, violent warlords, steamy sex and surprise pregnancies.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading “Mated to the Barbarian Heir” as much as I liked writing it. Please consider leaving an honest review here; it means a lot to me to hear from you.
Abella Ward
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Description
“Without manners, we all turn into animals,” he said.
“And what’s wrong with animals?” she whispered.
Sylvia
All my life I’ve been on my guard, looking over my shoulders because my dad’s a mobster. And now he has made me a prisoner in one of his friend’s homes. Fedor Volkov, the big Russian mafia boss.
I expected a cold-hearted monster, but he’s sexy as hell with a beard that sets my belly on fire. He stands for everything I despise, yet I can’t stop thinking about him. I want him to be the one to take my virginity. Especially since that would royally piss off my dad.
But I got way more than I bargained for...
Fedor
Every two years I take a vacation in my holiday home, alone. But this time, Will Stern has begged me to take in his daughter and protect her against his enemies. I couldn’t say no. Will is one of my best friends.
I didn’t expect her to be all grown up, though, a sexy young twenty-three-year-old with endless legs and a cleavage to drive me mad. But I can’t break the code, I am her guardian. I know I should stay away from her, but it’s almost like she’s out to make me fall.
How much longer can I resist?
Chapter One - Sylvia
“I don’t understand what the need for this is!” Sylvia stood aside while her father threw open the doors of her cupboard and started flinging clothes into a large duffle bag that he had brought with him.
“Think of this as a vacation, sweetie,” Will Stern said, barely looking at his daughter while he continued the task at hand - packing his daughter’s belongings.
“A vacation? I don’t need a vacation, dad! I just got done with college. I need to find a job.” Sylvia took a few steps in her father’s direction, trying to follow him around the room, but he now laid an arm on her dresser and just swept all her makeup and boxes of little trinkets into the bag. Sylvia shrieked with fright.
“Be careful with those, dad!” she yelled, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He had only one thing on his mind, and he didn’t look like he was going to take a break.
“I’ll get you a job when you come back. It’s just for a couple of weeks. It’ll be a nice break for you, after all the hard work you’ve put into your studies. You’ve never been to Puerto Rico,” Will said, finally zipping up the bag. He thought he had packed everything, but Sylvia had already made mental notes of all the stuff that he hadn’t put in - her shoes, the scarves, her prized collection of perfumes.
“Okay, dad,” she said softly, hoping that a gentler approach might work better. She walked towards him as he stood bent over the duffle bag and put a hand on his shoulder. Will Stern whipped around with a crazed look in his eyes.
“Dad, I thought those days were behind us,” Sylvia asked, the color rising in her cheeks. She was so tired of this. All her childhood had been spent running away, hiding, always looking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. It was what had killed her mother. All that nerve wracking will to survive, to live. Her father had been a small-timer then, he worked for someone else, one of the Russian mob bosses. But now that he had a gang of his own, his own security, his own source of income, Sylvia thought that those days of looking over their shoulders were over. That their lives were never going to be in danger anymore.
“It’s never truly behind us,” Will said, sitting down at the edge of her bed with a thump. He looked exhausted.
Sylvia put her hands on her hips, standing with her legs apart. She could feel the rage rising up her shoulders, she was exhausted too. When would she ever be able to lead a normal life?
“You have the money now, dad. You can pay off people. Frighten them…I don’t know what. You can do something. You don’t have to run away!” Sylvia breathed in deeply, nearly pleading with her father. She didn’t want to leave New York. Not when she was just beginning her job hunt. No matter what promises her father made, the kind of work he’d find her was not the kind of work she wanted to do. She wanted to get away from the mob world, away from the world of money laundering and thugs and stories about people getting killed or beaten to pulp for not paying their dues.
Sylvia wanted to lead a normal life, work at a startup, have a regular desk job, get a cat.
“I’m not running away. You’re going to Puerto Rico by yourself. I just don’t want you to get caught up in this. I don’t want your life to be in danger,” Will said, running his hands through his closely cropped dark curly hair. Sylvia noticed the graying of his sideburns. She hadn’t realized before but her father was getting old. But this didn’t mean that she wasn’t still angry with him. For trying to snatch a normal life away from her, again!
“Well, I’m not running away either. I’ve had enough of this. I’m staying right here. What the Hell am I going to do in Puerto Rico of all places?” Sylvia folded her arms across her chest, and then she saw the shift in her father’s eyes. He was determined. She had seen that look in his eyes very often in the past. She knew it scared people, but it didn’t scare her. She looked back at him directly, defiantly.
“You’re going. You’ll be staying with my friend. He owns a mansion there. He’s on holiday there and he’s agreed to take you in for a few weeks. You’ll be safe with him.” Will stood up from the bed and picked up the duffle bag up. Sylvia could feel tears bubbling up in her eyes, from the rage. She knew she had lost the fight. There was no convincing him now.
“I know what all your friends are like. They are all like you. Dirty criminals. You’re all alike. You’re all disgusting!” Sylvia screamed after her father as he left the room, expecting her to follow him as he went.
Sylvia clenched and unclenched her fists, she stamped the floor repeatedly, and then breathed out deeply to calm herself. This was not going to work. Her father would eventually get his men to physically drag her to his waiting car outside if he had to. Her struggle, her reasoning was useless.
So instead, Sylvia just opened her cupboard again. She pulled out one of her Louis Vuitton bags and started stuffing in the shoes her father had forgotten to pack, and then her scarves and her perfumes.
Just a few more weeks of this life, she told herself as she packed. Then it’d be over. Then she’d be done with this life and would start afresh. Maybe she’d leave the country. Maybe she’d move to London or Sydney or somewhere else where her father couldn’t hunt her down. Sylvia could feel the blood boiling in her veins, but she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do about it now.
Chapter Two - Fedor
Fedor Volkov swirled the glass of Scotch in his hands. It was only midday, but he was on vacation now, so he allowed himself the treat. Back in Chicago, he didn’
t take his first drink before all the day’s work was done, not before midnight. He needed to be thinking straight at all times.
He definitely needed this break. Puerto Rico was good for him. His mansion was isolated, well-guarded and he never invited any of his friends or associates along. A few weeks at his getaway meant just that: a getaway. In complete isolation. It gave him somewhere to think, to actually think.
But Will Stern might have spoilt it all. He had called on his direct line the previous night, sounding crazed, afraid. If Will sounded afraid, it had to be something big. He nearly begged Fedor to hide his daughter, to give her protection till he could sort out this gang war. Fedor couldn’t say no, he couldn’t say no to one of his closest friends. Will and he had both risen through the ranks together. Will was an outsider, he wasn’t Russian, but he had the guts to play with the big boys. They always had each other's backs, and this poor girl didn’t even have a mother anymore. He couldn’t possibly say no.
“Boss, she’s here,” he heard Pyotr’s voice say in Russian behind him.
“Bring her in,” Fedor replied and folded one leg over the other, sinking a little further into his leather chair.
He heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor outside, and he immediately had an impression of Will’s daughter. She definitely walked with a lot of confidence. He hadn’t met her since her mother’s funeral. She was only twelve then. She was twenty-three now, practically a grown woman.