by T. S. Ryder
A shout from inside the forest made her jump. It was Bjorn's voice. The sound was followed by a clash of swords. Her heart began racing and she clutched the dagger more tightly, retreating to the far end of the hollow tree next to Maskin's still form. They had been discovered. Again.
Her eyes closed briefly and she whispered a prayer to the Gods to protect her and her kings.
A shadow darkened the exit to the tree. Cheryl's heart nearly stopped. She stared with wide eyes as a head emerged into the tree. In the darkness, she couldn't see his face.
He did not give the password. It was not Bjorn.
Cheryl yelled as she threw herself forward. In the darkness, she found the joint between neck and shoulder and stabbed her dagger in. It sunk, feeling like she was cutting through a melon. The man yelled in pain. The smell of blood filled the hollow tree.
She would never eat meat again after this.
The man tried to back out of the tree, but Cheryl grabbed a fistful of hair and stabbed again and again into the neck. A horror rose in her but so did desperation. She wasn't going to let Quincy take her. She wasn't going to let him kill her kings.
When the man no longer moved, Cheryl released him. He slid out of the tree like a rock thrown from a cliff. The human rolled over and vomited. Her chest heaved and sweat coated her arms and face. Every muscle in her body trembled.
But somewhere in killing that man, she had made a choice. There was only one way to end this before her kings were killed. She hid the dagger in her skirt and wormed out of the tree.
Cheryl took a deep breath to brace herself. She ran from the tree, praying to the Gods that this would work.
"Quincy!" she shouted. "Quincy! Do you want me? Come and get me!"
Chapter Twelve: Bjorn
His back was against a tree, his arms feeling like water as he swung his sword from side to side, parrying the blows that rained down on him. The warriors all stood just outside his reach, forming a semi-circle to block him from running. Two or three darted in closer every so often. He was able to withstand most of their strikes, but some slipped through, slicing his arms and torso.
The priest stood a little away, a retinue of warriors around him, watching. An impatient sneer twisted his lips.
"Just kill him! We are not on the shrine grounds. Kill him and be done with it."
Bjorn tensed, tightening his grip on the sword. Two warriors came at him. He blocked one blow. The other struck his arm with the flat side of his sword and both retreated again.
"Kill him!"
Bjorn laughed, taking a moment to find his footing again. If the warriors wanted to kill him, he would be dead. If they were loyal to the priest, he would be dead. So he had an advantage here.
"These warriors swore loyalty to the noble houses. You are a priest. You belong to no house. What you are doing, trying to kill Maskin and I and claim Cheryl for yourself, naming yourself king, is nothing short of treason."
"You are the traitor. The houses ordered him dead, Warriors! You swore loyalty to them, so complete the mission you were given."
"The mission you gave them," Bjorn cried as looks of determination came over the warrior's faces. "The first loyalty is to the crown, and now that crown rests on the head of the queen alone. Will you give her to this man when she has no choice in the matter?"
Quincy edged forward. "The queen does not choose her king."
"Perhaps she should. Perhaps the reason the Gods brought both Maskin and me out of the last tournament alive was to signify a new age–an age were slaves are no more, where every man, woman and child can choose their own fate."
The warriors looked shocked for a moment. Their swords dropped a few inches.
"Kill him!" Quincy shouted. "Kill him or be traitors yourselves!"
"Stop!"
Even as the warriors lunged forward, their heads turned. Bjorn's heart spiked as the blades stopped within inches of his throat. But he didn't care about them, hardly even noticed how close he was to death. Cheryl ran between two trees and stopped. The red nanite armor protecting her was slick with blood, her blonde hair billowing like a storm cloud around her. Blue eyes glittered.
What was she doing? Didn't she know that Quincy would just kill him and take her away now?
Or was that what she meant to do? Did she hope that by giving herself up to Quincy, he would let the prince and Maskin live, that they would be allowed to leave the moon with their heads on their shoulders?
"See what they've done?" Quincy recovered quickly, pointing at Cheryl. "They have forced the queen to spill blood—"
"No." Cheryl's voice rang clear. "You did."
Quincy's head jerked, as though taken aback by Cheryl interrupting him–and given the quiet, submissive woman that Bjorn had first met, it was no surprise that he wouldn't expect her to talk back to him.
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 spe
nding 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 kno
ws 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.