by Abella Ward
© Copyright 2016 by Heartbeat Reads - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Slave to the Barbarian King
A Fantasy Romance
By: Abella Ward
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Bonus Book 1: The Alien Warrior's Secret Baby
Bonus Book 2: Slave to the Alien Dragon
Bonus Book 3: Abducted by the Alien Dragon
Bonus Book 4: Abducted by the Alien Warrior
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Prologue
Planet Estion in the Orion Star System.
Royal Palace of the Darrenkar.
Estion, Year 2268 (One Estion year is 395 days)
The night had grown cold when the boy woke with a start. The light from the blue moon streamed in through the huge windows and lit up his alabaster-white skin. Rubbing his emerald-green eyes, the six-year-old prince got out of bed wearing his dark night robes, and followed the sound that had woken him. He thought it had come from his father’s chambers. He tiptoed outside, crossing the hallway. The door to the king’s chamber was ajar. He peeped inside and found it dark and eerily quiet. Then he heard muffled voices from across the room. The large glass door leading to the terrace was open and the king and queen’s bed was empty. His heart racing, he slowly crept toward the window, staying in the shadows, and peered outside. In the pale light of the moon, he saw his mother and father held captive by two hulking men. The men held his father’s arms behind his back. His mother was held in the same manner as she silently cried. A third man stood in front of his father as he drew his sword and, before the boy could react, the man had plunged the sword into the king's heart. Blood poured out as the body fell. He went for the queen next and her scream died on her lips with her last breath. She, too, dropped to the floor. Their bodies lay motionless in the expanding pool of dark blue blood.
His breathing had become labored and he was rooted to the spot. The men turned and walked toward the window. A hand came up from behind him and covered his mouth, dragging him backward into the shadows.
"Do not make a sound, my lord," Ornek whispered in his ear as he quickly dragged him out of the chambers.
Ornek was the most senior member of the king's royal guard. His long silver hair was tied at his neck. His bright green eyes shone kindly and aging ridges on his temples betrayed years of wisdom. He wore the royal armor: silver steel over black leather clothing with a dark blue cape.
The invaders were at their heels. Ornek grabbed the boy's arm and they ran downstairs into the grand hallway.
"W-who are these people?" the boy stammered.
"The Rok... They plunder and kill anyone who gets in their way. We have feared this attack for months, but I didn’t know it would come to this."
"They killed father and mother," he sobbed, tears streaming down his face as tried to keep up with Ornek.
"Erdal, your life is in danger. We must get out of here now," he said as they ran down the stone steps toward the gravel driveway outside.
The royal guards were in a grave sword fight. Bodies were strewn all over the place. More hulking men with white hair and dark gray skin entered the palace and killed anything that got in their way. Swords clashed in the night and blood was spilled.
"Listen to me carefully, my lord. The throne is yours, but right now you must go into hiding.”
They got to a black vehicle, dodging a few attackers. Ornek was quick with his katana. Forged from the rare steel native to Estion, its blade was sharp enough to split a single feather.
He severed the head of one of the attackers and led Erdal toward the small shuttle. Erdal got inside and Ornek strapped him to the seat, pressing an amulet into his hands.
"It's the Erasmeth. Always keep it with you. When you come of age, this will help you to claim your rightful place as king," Ornek said as he quickly tapped commands on the panel inside and the engine revved into life. The aircraft levitated into the air. Ornek gave Erdal one last look.
“Go... Be safe!” Ornek said as he gazed at him. “We will meet again.”
Chapter One
Estion, Palace of the Darrenkar, circa 2370[1]
“He will be of good use, my lord,” Gezek said, as two guards dragged Erdal before King Zutaar in the throne room. His hands and feet were in shackles. He wore only dark leather pants and his bare, muscular chest revealed battle scars from years of fighting in the arena. Sweat gleamed on his alabaster-white skin as the sunlight streamed down from the huge skylight above onto his kneeling form. The light made the coppery streaks in his long, dark hair glint with fiery rebellion as it fell around his shoulders.
“He’s a Darrenkar, but he is the most experienced gladiator in the arena,” Gezek explained. “They call him DeathRaze there.”
Erdal felt the king’s eyes on him. He was a hulking man over seven feet tall. His sharp, silver-gray eyes glinted as he assessed the man kneeling in front of him as if he were an animal to be bought at the bazaar. His whole demeanor exuded haughtiness as he sat on the throne, head tilted to one side.
“He can show us what he can do on the training ground tomorrow. If he can please me, we’ll keep him. If not, kill him,” Lord Zutaar said.
“Yes, my lord,” Gezek said, as he bowed low and motioned for the guards to take Erdal away.
Erdal thought he had gotten lucky as the king appreciated his fighting skills. He was given the lowest rank in the King’s Royal guard.
***
It was two decades ago when the king’s advisor, Gezek, had found Erdal fighting in the gladiator’s arena on the Andromeda 13 space station. He had seen the man’s agile moves and the finesse with which he held his katana, the Light-Shard. Erdal had picked it up at the bazaar where the spoils of war were sold. He had felt the strength of the blade, deathly sharp, and ever since, Light-Shard had been his loyal companion. With some effort, Gezek had bribed his owner and bought Erdal that day. Since then, Erdal had been steadily rising within the King’s ranks.
It had been almost over a century since the Rok had invaded the planet. A warrior like any other, he walked the same palace halls as head of the Royal Guard and King’s mercenary, not knowing that he once lived there as Lord Erdal, heir to the ancient Urquiorra throne.
Erdal remembered nothing of the night his parents were assassinated. All he remembered was that he woke up one day shackled in a small room with a headache. Everything before that was lost. From then on, he had served his master and learned to sword fight. He didn’t like killing, but he had to survive. That was what he had learned. To survive.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember how he had ended up
a slave. His master told him that he had found him unconscious in an aircraft which crashed outside the city. Erdal didn’t even remember his own name. It was from the half-damaged record chip in his arm band that the slave master learned his real name, Erdal. Nothing else. He was told that the Rok had killed the king, queen, and the entire Urquiorra household. It was said that the bloodline had ended there. The Rok were the new rulers.
Sometimes he had vague dreams. Nightmares, mostly. He would see the bodies of a man and woman in royal robes sprawled in a pool of blood, and an old man telling him something important, although he couldn’t tell what. Then, there was darkness. Later, he would wake with a headache.
He didn't think much about the nightmares. He didn’t want to. Last year, his wife, Kira, had been killed in a space battle with humans. He had had a hard time coming to terms with the loss of her. She had been like a pleasant summer dream in the dark world he lived in, but that dream had been short-lived. They had only been married a month. She was a brave warrior like him – a Darrenkar warrior. But the lowly humans had killed her. He couldn’t accept that. He wanted to go numb, to stop the pain gnawing at heart. Nobody saw the growing torment in his intense, emerald eyes. Nobody would care even if they did.
Now, King Zutaar wanted him to go the human planet, Earth, to find a bride for him. As the King gave him the orders, he felt like slashing the man’s throat with his Light-Shard. Abducting women for the king hadn’t bothered him before. He was usually indifferent. But this time he hated it. If he had had a choice, he would have refused. Yet, knowing King Zutaar was ruthless and rotten to the core, he did it to survive.
Everyone knew the king was a corrupt philanderer. He had taken over a hundred wives during his reign on Estion. They were all different women as he preferred virgins from different planets. The king chose the planet, and the rest was Erdal’s job. He would travel to a planet and observe the culture there, scrutinizing the inhabitants and familiarizing himself with their norms. He would look into their bloodline records and then choose a woman he thought might suit the king. Then, he would abduct her. But this time, rage clouded his judgment. He didn’t bother to check on the planet or the people there. He just packed up to go.
He wore a dark suit, dark pants, and a long hooded cloak that partially shielded his eyes. His v-neck shirt was slightly open at the front, revealing his muscular chest. He sheathed his katana and slung it across his chest as he strode toward the spaceship’s control room with determinedly. He tapped the controls on the panel and set the course for Earth, a small planet in a far-off galaxy called The Milky Way. He sat back in his chair, his cold emerald green eyes gazing out of the huge windows of the cockpit as he left Estion’s atmosphere. The moment it was out of the planet’s orbit, the ship went into warp drive, rocketing far into deep space.
Chapter Two
Earth, Present Day
She stared at a ghost of a woman reflected in the mirror. Long, dark hair was matted to her pale face and her bloodshot eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Her mascara had trailed down her cheeks and her lipstick was smeared. It was an ugly sight. Natalie Donovan knew it then. She was one ugly woman. Ugly and fat. That’s why he had left her for another woman. A much prettier one. She must be a skinny bitch, Natalie thought, fresh tears springing to her eyes. At that moment, she really hated the pathetic sight in front of her. She should have known. At twenty-six, she was twenty pounds overweight, ugly, and unsuccessful. Who would want an ugly woman like her?
Her stomach twisted and her head reeled. Nausea rose up inside her as she bent over and retched in the sink. Her body shuddered and her breathing became labored as she gripped the rim of the sink with trembling hands, steadying herself. She had downed more than a few margaritas and her thoughts were becoming fuzzy. She splashed cold water on her face, wiping it clean with the back of her hand.
She had been trying to reach Matt like crazy, but he hadn’t returned her calls or texts in the past two days. She had tossed and turned at night, wondering why he wouldn’t return her calls. It was very unlike him. Tonight, she had texted him to meet her at the bar. She had been constantly checking her cell, and when it finally beeped, her brown eyes lit up hopefully. Yet, her heart sank when she read his reply. The text clearly stated that he wouldn’t be coming and he was not going to be seeing her again. He was engaged to Tyra.
Tyra? Tears streamed down her cheeks as she blinked. Oh, Tyra. She was the skinny model he was going to be working with in New York on his next photo shoot.
Oh why, why, why, Matt? She furiously texted him back, asking him why he was leaving. Did she do anything wrong? Oh, she had been so careful not to displease him and to take care of his every need. Although he had never said those three magical words, she thought he was happy with her.
Natalie was working at a coffee shop as the assistant manager when she met Matt almost a year back. She thought she had finally found the right man – a man who loved her. At least she had thought he did. He was ruggedly handsome, with blue eyes and dark hair. He’d been sweet to her, and he’d always told her she was good in bed.
That was it, then. He was just having fun. Men didn’t like fat girls, and they definitely didn’t marry them. She had been a fool. Why else would he break up with her and marry that model?
She heard the door to the restroom open, and she quickly applied red lipstick and straightened the hem of her knee-length black dress that clung to her curvy figure. Then, grabbing her clutch, she walked outside.
She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the fluctuating neon lights. Her head spun as the loud music thrummed in her chest. Staggering, she made her way back through a throng of swaying bodies to the bar on the left. She sat on one of the stools and thought about going for another margarita.
Erdal had frequented this very bar nightly for almost a week without any success. He had a hard time trying to control his rage as he imagined unsheathing his Light-Shard and ripping every human there apart. To add to his frustration, he just couldn’t find the right girl. He was running out of time; tonight was his last chance. He had to go back and report to the King. He didn’t care what punishment Zutaar had in store for him.
He was about to give up when he saw the woman stumble up to the bar. She sat next to him, oblivious to the world around her. His cold, emerald eyes were half hidden under the hood of his cloak, and his piercing gaze took in her full breasts, her waist and her black dress, which clung deliciously to her softly-curved hips. But what interested him most was her face. His breath hitched when he saw her big eyes, her lips, her nose... It was all so much like her. For a moment he thought he was seeing a vision and that Kira was there with him. But that was ridiculous. He was far away from home, on an alien planet. This human was not Kira. She was gone. But the resemblance was uncanny. The only difference was her hair color. It was darker. And she was on the chubbier side, but he didn’t mind that. He thought she looked good.
Natalie didn’t notice the stranger who sat next to her, quietly observing her every move. She didn’t even notice the tiny, round translation device he slipped into her ear as he moved up next to her.
“May I buy you a drink?” he asked her, in the way that he had observed other human males do. His voice was deep and had an unusual lilt to it.
She turned toward him and looked up. Her red-rimmed eyes were bright and he saw that she was drunk.
“Y-yeah. I would love that,” she slurred, giving him a crooked smile. She saw the way he looked at her, and his cold, piercing gaze made her shudder.
He ordered a cosmopolitan for her.
“So, what do they call you?” he asked, gazing at her with those piercing eyes.
She giggled, unable to wipe that stupid smile off her face. He sounded funny, she thought.
“I’m Natalie. And you are...?” she asked him as she bent forward, gazing into his penetrating emerald-green eyes. He seemed thirty-five or thirty-six, maybe? She couldn’t see his face properly. What was it? He seemed differe
nt and he didn’t seem to like her. No, she was being stupid. Why would he buy her a drink if he didn’t like her?
“Erdal,” he said, in his deep voice. He took a swig of his beer, his eyes still locked upon hers, as she sipped her cosmopolitan.
“C’mon, dance with me,” she said, slipping off her stool. She grabbed his hand and led him onto the dance floor as the music changed to a slow number.
Natalie leaned in on him, resting her head on his shoulder and slowly beginning to sway. He stood rooted to the spot. He didn’t understand why these humans were moving like crazy – sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly – to the noisy beat. To him, it seemed like some sort of weird mating ritual… or maybe more of a prelude to the ritual.
“We should get going,” he said in a sober tone. He was growing a bit uncomfortable with her body against his, her scent unnerving him – her sweet, intoxicating scent ensnaring his senses. His breath hitched and he felt like getting out of there.
What was it with this woman? He would have to find out later.
“Umm, okay...” Natalie said as he led her outside into the warm, balmy night. I should spend the night with this handsome stranger, she thought. It would get her mind off of Matt. She might regret it later, but she didn’t care at the moment.
Erdal opened the door to his Ford Mustang and she got in. He came around the other side and got in, then quickly revved up the engine. He quietly drove out onto the street and into the night. He still wore the hood on his head. Why won’t he remove it? Natalie wondered. It seemed as if he were hiding something.
Her mind drifted to Matt once more as she stared out the window. Just before he had left for New York, she had been making plans for his upcoming birthday. He hadn’t said anything – just smiled and went away. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face at the memory.