Dragon Lords III:
THE DARK PRINCE
By
Michelle M. Pillow
Dragon Lords: The Dark Prince © copyright 2004 - 2010 by Michelle M. Pillow
Second Electronic Printing August 2010, The Raven Books
First Electronic Printing November 2004
Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2009-2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Published by The Raven Books at Smashwords
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
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Dragon Lords III:
THE DARK PRINCE
By
Michelle M. Pillow
Dedication:
To Tracy Sutherland
For something you once said
About the Series
The four Qurilixian Princes have no problem with commitment. In one night, using the power they were born with, they will meet and choose their life mate in a simplistic ceremony involving the removing of masks and the crushing of crystals. With very few words spoken and the shortest, most bizarre courtship in history, they will bond to their women forever. And once bonded, these men don’t let go…
Dragon Lords is the first installment in the bestselling futuristic romance series. After the four Dragon Lords books, the series continue with the Lords of the Var series. They can be read alone, but the author recommends reading books in order of release. For details please visit www.michellepillow.com
Chapter One
Olena Leyton’s calculating eyes shot hot sparks of angry fire, as she met her reflection in a broken piece of glass on the ground. She swallowed, scowling in annoyance at the seeping wound in her arm. Moving to press her fingers to the ripped black spandex of her top, she cursed, feeling a chunk of metal embedded deep within her skin. She gritted her teeth, digging her fingers into the wound to pry out a jagged strip. Dispassionately, she eyed the metal before dropping it to the ground.
Her arm continued to ooze, but she ignored it. Now was no time for weakness. She was in the crate storage of some metal space dock. The large open door let in a cooling breeze from outside, making her shiver as it hit the layer of sweat on her skin. Leaning forward, she squinted, trying to read the address label on one of the crates. X Quadrant, Earthbase 5792461.
X Quadrant?!
She let loose a long breath. Her ship really had gone off course. Glancing out over the lush alien countryside that she had just run three miles through, she took a calming breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, more from the sprint than the pain in her arm. Her escape had been too close a call.
Damned bounty hunters, trying to get back what she rightfully stole! They shot up her ship, scattered her crew, and now she was stranded in the X Quadrant. Things couldn’t get much worse.
Olena was wrong. With a frown, she watched as an orange ball of fire lit up the distance. She cursed and closed her eyes as she saluted the last breath of her ship. With that kind of beacon, the bounty hunters would be all over this planet like flies on manure, not to mention the local law enforcement. Wouldn’t they love to get their hands on this little pirate?
“Not going to happen,” Olena grumbled, darkly. She looked around. She had been in tougher spots than this. Granted, she usually had her crew with her.
Seeing a row of small luxury crafts and personal transport ships lined up for pre-flight maintenance, she grinned. Oh, this was almost too easy. Standing, she was instantly sorry. Her head became light and she swayed on her feet. Blinking to keep from blacking out, she glanced at her arm. Her blood had spilled onto the floor, staining the black spandex of her pants and dripping onto her leather boot. She needed a medic and fast. But, worst of all, she was in no condition to fly. She could very well pass out during the gravity shift of take off.
Creeping stealthily forward, she began looking into the windows of the personal transports for a first aid kit to tide her over. The rich people who owned these crafts were always good for a supply of painkillers. Right now she needed both.
Seeing a kit, Olena glanced around. The place was empty. With a swift kick, she smashed in the window and unlocked the transport. Within moments, she had her arm bandaged and a couple pills stuck and dissolving in her dry throat. She tried to work them down.
“Who’s there?”
Olena froze in her search for a bottle of liquor, cursing silently. Accursed dock security guards! Why didn’t they find themselves a real job?
Olena edged to peek over the side of the transport. The security guard came into view. She cursed again. Her arm was in no shape for self defense. Looking down at her waist, she saw that her gun was registering empty. She had used all her ammunition to fire her way out of the ship’s metal side. The hatch had been jammed by the ground.
Hearing a rush of feet coming from the other direction, she stiffened. A woman hurried near them, covered with a rich fur cloak from head to foot and laden down with numerous suitcases. As Olena watched, she shifted her bags and pulled the cloak tightly around her, jerking it over her head, as if frightened of the dark and lonely docks at night. Olena smiled. She might not be able to drive, but this rich woman would definitely have her own vehicle.
Olena heard the guard move. He stopped to smile at the rich lady. The woman jolted in mild surprise to see him, but managed a weak nod of acknowledgement back. The guard appeared to know her, because he waved at her and pointed down the docks. Olena looked in the transport. Seeing a coat, she slid it over her shoulders and buttoned the front to hide her pirating attire. Then, grabbing a hat, she sat it atop her flaming red hair, tucking ponytailed locks up beneath it.
Some floral bags were sitting in the back seat and she took all four of them. She loaded them on her shoulders, trying not to flinch at the pain, as she began walking after the cloaked lady. She smiled innocently at the security guard who had forgotten his investigation and was going back to the monitor room. He waved at her, pointing the same direction down the docks he had for the other woman. Olena smiled brightly like she knew what he was signaling about.
She took the plank reserved for first class, again seeing the rich woman. She was next to a uniformed man with a clipboard. Her hood was down, her brown hair looking very respectable pulled back into a bun. Olena squinted, seeing the glittering of diamond earrings on the woman’s ears. Instantly, her mind calculated the worth of them. Oh, she’d love to get her hands on those! It might make this little detour worth it.
Olena pasted a smile on her cunning face as she saw a bunch of women loading into the spacecraft, beneath a banner that read, Galaxy Brides, in curving script. Carting her new bags, she came forward.
“Perfect, Miss—ah--Aleksander,” the uniformed man was saying to the rich woman. “Welcome aboard the flight to your future!”
Olena didn’t pay the woman’s answer any attention as she set her bags down. She turned to dig through her gun belt.
“No, Miss. Galaxy Brides Corporation owes you.” The man answered whatever Miss Aleksander had said.
Pulling out the first ID she came across, Olena quickly pushed the coat to cover her weapon. She pushed her luggage closer, kicking it lightly across the floor with her foot. Glancing over her shoulder, she thought she heard air sirens outside the dock. They would be going to investigate the explosion. She could only hope the blast had made her ship unrecognizable.
“I wish to evoke the right of privacy law. If anyone asks, I’m not here,” the rich lady said.
“Police?” the man questioned in surprise, though the idea did not seem to concern him. He obviously had a quota to fill and Olena knew that these corporations were notorious for looking the other way.
Olena didn’t hear the woman’s answer, but saw the man nod in understanding. She tried to edge closer, taking another peek at the pricy earrings.
“I’ll make a note, Miss. That won’t be a problem.” The man began writing on Miss Aleksander’s file.
“And, by the way, where are we going?” the woman asked, her voice again mild and unwavering.
Olena stepped closer. She knew what Galaxy Brides was. They were a corporation who peddled marriage to barbarian planets in need of women. Once she had been asked to shanghai a load of brides by a lower breed of humanoids. It was one of the few jobs she had turned down. Not even she could take profit from delivering hapless women to men who squirted slime from their… well…
The man chuckled. “Most women ask before they come down here. It must be some maniac you are trying to get away from.”
The woman gulped but said nothing.
The man reigned in his humor, and answered, “You’re heading to Qurilixen, Miss.”
The woman nodded before she walked away, following a droid who carried her bags. Instantly, Olena turned her sweetest smile on the uniformed worker. He nearly flushed in response.
“Hi,” she murmured in a sultry vixen’s tone that she knew drove men to instant distraction. Pouting out her lips, she said, “Oh, these bags are so heavy. I never thought I would get them all the way up the dock by myself.”
“Are you here for a last minute replacement?” the man inquired, his breath beginning to pant at the look she gave him. Coming forward, he took her bags for her and moved them forward.
“Oh, thank you,” she gushed. Olena blinked, innocently. “I’m so glad I made it on time. Rick at the office told me it would be all right if I tagged along. This is the flight to Qurilixen, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Miss. I know Rick,” the worker lied. “Fine man.”
“Why yes, he is,” Olena giggled with a toss of her hand and a playful bat of her eyes.
“Sign here,” he said, handing over the clipboard. “We are several girls short so they’ll be more than happy to have you. Your health screenings will be done in flight. You’ll have room 209 on platform two. It’s the room all the way to the back, left side. Ship orientation is tomorrow at 9:00 AM Earthtime.”
“That is perfect,” she whispered, as she set her ID on top of the clipboard. To her surprise, it was her real name. It was too late to grab an alias, so she signed her name with flourish.
The man looked at the ID and handed it back. “Here you go, Miss.”
“Oh,” Olena said. She looked down at the man’s name tag. “Rick said it would be all right if I evoked the right of privacy law. He said just to tell Bernie and you would personally see to it my privacy isn’t violated.”
“Stalker?” the man asked.
“Oh, is it that obvious?” Olena pouted, trying her best not to laugh at the all protective man look the guy gave her. She dabbed fake tears from her wide eyes and sniffed.
“No, Miss,” Bernie answered in a self-important tone. He motioned to a droid to pick up her bags for her. “There just seems to be a lot of that going around lately.”
* * * *
One month later…
Olena sighed, resting back in her seat in obvious comfort. A droid massaged her feet in the pedicure basin and another rubbed her neck with two hands as the other four of its hands did her hair. Looking around the beauty parlor, she had memorized almost every one of the bride’s names. It was an old habit, one that had saved her hide more than once.
Besides, what else was she going to do during the last month of space travel? Plan her future with a barbarian husband? Knit him and their future children a sweater?
No thanks. Not likely. Never going to happen.
The brides were being prepared for the Breeding Festival that was happening that very night on Qurilixen. It was the one night of darkness on the otherwise light planet and considered the only night the men could choose a bride. Olena had every intention of finding a poor sucker to marry her. What easier way to lay low for a few months as she plotted her escape? Besides, free room and board? Who could resist?
Smirking, Olena inwardly laughed at the other women aboard the Galaxy Bride ship. They were all such dopes, with their high hopes of royal marriage. Yeah, like anyone ever found true love at the end of a glowing crystal. Olena knew what these foolish women would find, and it had nothing to do with love. When it came to men, they didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Olena chuckled, a grin forming on her lips. Why else would the Qurilixian men call their wedding ceremony a Breeding Festival? It was so laughably obvious. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with a planet full of horny males, with no females of their own, who needed to find release. Hell, it was easy to say ‘I love you’ to one of the only women on the entire planet. How else were the poor bastards going to get laid?
Olena took her feet out of the water at the droid’s gentle push. Setting her feet on the edge of the basin, she watched the droid staining her toenails with permanent polish. She couldn’t help thinking of what the Qurilixian males must be like--a whole planet of Medieval Earth warrior types. Qurilixian women were rare, being as the planet suffered from blue radiation. Over the generations, it had altered the men’s genetics to produce almost nothing but strong male heirs.
Maybe, I’ll find a Prince and make them all worship at my feet, Olena mused with a whimsical smile. Queen Olena has a nice ring to it.
She would never do it. Though it might be fun to play queen, the truth was the wanderlust in her veins would eventually get the better of her. No planet could hold her interest for long.
The fact that the Qurilixen had no women of their own was why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable to them. They could use portals to steal brides, but nowadays the intergalactic commission frowned on such practices. In return, the Qurilixian would mine ore that was only found in their caves. The ore was a great power source for long-voyaging starships, all but useless to the Qurilixian as they were not known as explorers.
Backwards as they sounded, she hoped they at least had a space port so she could hitch a ride off the planet. If her situation wasn’t so dire, it would have been hilarious.
The planet of Qurilixen was on the outer edge of the Y Quadrant. Olena was familiar with the territory. She had once escaped a renegade hunter a few years back by flying into an asteroid belt that ran through its outer edge. She had seen the red-brown planet briefly and had almost stopped there for repairs. Even though they didn’t land, a pirate always remembered a potential hiding planet. You never knew when it would come in handy.
She closed her eyes briefly as the droid at her feet finished.
The Qurilixen men worshipped many gods, favored natural comforts to modern technical conveniences, and actually preferred to cook their own food without the aid of a simulator. With the right crew, she was sure she could have scammed the superstitious kingdom for all their valuables in a month’s time.
The trip hadn’t been so bad. She’d traveled in far worse accommodations. The spacecraft was a nice one, but the only company she had been allowed in the last month of travel had been the other women. They were quarantined, to ensure nothing unseemly happened, which caused some of the women to jokingly refer to their quarters as the harem.
The pampered brides were valuable cargo. But, after a month of traveling with the giggling twits, Olena was sure not taking that shanghai gig had been one of her best calls. She would have dumped the brides out of her smaller rust bucket of a ship in a lunar second.
Personal droids were assigned to each passenger and she had used hers to no end, spending hours making a mess just to watch the thing pick up. It never complained. As soon as she heisted a new ship, Olena was going to make sure she got a dozen of those little numbers with it.
There were cooking units in each of their quarters that could materialize almost any culinary delight. Olena, having known firsthand the pangs of starvation, gladly feasted more than her share. Plus, the ship had a medic unit. She’d found it that first night, typed in her room number, and seconds later her arm was fixed without even a scar to show for it.
Yep, her accommodations could have been much, much worse. She could have been tied up in a prison hold at the mercy of some half-wit bounty hunter who’d more than likely try to take an advance on his wages out of her unwilling body. Then, she’d have to kill him, she’d be left helpless, the ship would crash… disastrous.
Hearing Gena make reference--again--to her own genetically enhanced breasts, Olena forced a false smile and giggled with the rest of them. Oh, yeah. This was getting old. Good thing they were docking in a few hours or she might have tried to squeeze out of the small window in her room into deep space.
“Those Princes won’t be able to resist me. Maybe I’ll marry all four of them just for fun,” Gena said. The woman tossed her auburn hair and dropped the examination of her new body. She’d been flat when she arrived and now she lugged around two gigantic luxury crafts.
Olena looked down. She had taken advantage of the services, having the hair on her legs and armpits permanently removed. She didn’t care much for the body altering, though she did get one annoyingly puckered brand removed from her backside.
“How will you know who the Princes are?” came the cynical reasoning of Pia Korbin. Olena looked to her right. Out of all the women, she liked sarcastic Pia the best. “I’ve heard that all the men wear disguises. You could end up with a royal guard.”
“Or a gardener,” a brunette offered with a laugh.
“I hear they wear practically nothing at all,” Olena said, just to get a rise out of the women. “Except the mask and some fur.”
She wasn’t disappointed. They nearly tittered over in excitement.
“You can’t miss royalty,” the self-important Gena announced, tossing her hair. “You’ll see it in the way they move.”