Dark Prince (2 page)

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 aide 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.

"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."

Olena rolled her eyes. She caught her reflection in a mirror. Weakly, she waved back the hands of the beauty droid who finished curling her locks. For a moment, she froze, not recognizing the woman in the plush white cotton robe staring back at her. Turning her head to one side and then the other, she frowned as she studied her upswept. The sides pulled up into a center knot only to cascade down her back in curls. She looked like a spoiled rich girl and it made her uncomfortable.

"Come on, Olena," a woman laughed, stopping to lean on her shoulder. "Let’s go get ready."

"You go ahead," Olena said, unable to take her eyes away. "I’ll be there in a minute."

Swallowing, she shook herself from the trance and stood to follow the others out to the hall leading to their suites. She took a deep breath, telling herself it didn’t matter. What was a little marriage if it would help her recover her freedom? It wasn’t as if she had any plans of marrying for love or happiness. Like everything else in her life, this adventure was just a means to an end.

Then, forcing herself to look on the bright side, she looked down at her painted toenails and thought, Won’t the crew get a kick out of this!

* * * *

Olena shivered, uncomfortably standing in her traditional Qurilixen gown of silk and gauze. At least it was black, a perfect color for her black mood. She felt like one of the female slaves being readied for the auction block of Phatar.

The revealing outfit hung low over her cleavage to give the men ample view of her pale white chest. The non-existent skirt hugged tight to her waist and hips, only to flare out around her legs in thin strips. A belt of sorts went across her back. But, instead of looping in the front, it continued to the sides, holding her wrists low like silken chains before winding half way up the arm to lock over the elbows. It greatly added to the whole slave auction affect the men seemed to be going for.

What was marriage anyway, if not voluntary slavery? she thought. She almost felt sorry for the guy who picked her. He would really have no idea what he was getting himself into.

The breeze blew over the line of waiting brides, who stood single file in the corridor leading out of the ship’s port. Olena was the first slave on the auction block and was provided with an ample view of what was going on below. Instantly, she took stock of her primitive surroundings.

Below her, men hollered in delight as her dress blew up around her thighs. Olena was too proud to push the skirt down. She let the wind blow it where it would, as her chin lifted into the air and she refused to smile.

Standing before her, shoulder to shoulder in two long lines, were the more silent bachelors. Their bodies formed an aisle of naked flesh. Olena had already been instructed that she was to walk through it so the men could get a look at her. As her skirt blew around her again, revealing her athletic thighs, she mused, There, let them have a good ole peek.

The reddish-brown planet was surrounded by a blue-green dusk. Stars were beginning to show overhead, winking down from above as they framed a large spotlight moon. Alien trees grew high with colossal leaves. They towered over the planet’s surface with trunks nearly a fourth of the size of the Galaxy Bride’s spacecraft. The forest stretched out around them on one side, reaching into the distance where a mountain grew high before them.

Olena could see the soft glow of firelight, crackling from a giant bonfire pit as the flames lapped at the starry night, sending sparks of ash into the cool air. Behind the rowdy men, near the back, the married men sat in throne-like chairs with their wives firmly upon their laps. The married women could be heard laughing as they watched the barbarians too young to participate in this year’s festival shout and pose for the prospective brides. The smell of burning wood mingled with the exotic perfume of nature. The couples kissed and petted each other freely and no one but the brides noticed.

Music and laughter resounded over the campgrounds. The grounds were set up with large pyramid tents. Torches lit dim earthen pathways. Ribbons and banners floated on the breeze in many brilliant colors. Olena was unimpressed.

The silent barbarian-grooms were larger than she first anticipated, though Olena was hardly a woman to back down from such a thing. They were every inch the proud warrior class they were rumored to be, some even appeared to tower nearly seven feet tall in height. Their pride would equal arrogance and she knew just how to play to arrogance.

The bachelors were completely naked except for three things--a fur loincloth that wrapped their thick waists to leave bare their muscular legs and chests, jewelry consisting of a bracelet of intricate gold around their sinewy biceps and a crystal necklace about their throats, and a black leather mask that hid their faces from view from upper lip to forehead.

Firelight illuminated their oil-glistened flesh. From solid neck to muscular legs, they were perfection. Their bronzed bodies were like statues, with only their lungs expanding and contracting to show they moved. They were waiting patiently for the brides to walk through so they could choose their mate.

Instantly, Olena saw their lust. It shone bright and feverish from the eye slits of their masks. Their heated gazes were like liquid metal--possessive, dominate, sure.

Yep, Olena mused, no longer feeling any guilt for what she was about to do. Slave auction.

* * * *

Yusef of Draig stared at the red-headed vixen at the front of the bridal line. He did not need to confirm his instant attraction to her by checking to see if the crystal was beginning to glow about his neck. He knew the moment she stepped out onto the deck that she was going to be his, even if he had to buck tradition and the magic he believed in to claim her.

Glancing down, he saw that such drastic measures wouldn’t be necessary. A sultry smile curved up the corner of his mouth. The magic of the Gods agreed with him. The fiery woman was destined to be his wife.

The black of her dress whipped boldly around her athletic body and she did not even try to hold it at bay. He saw the pride in her bright emerald eyes as she stood very still. Her lips curled with what could have been mocking disdain for the whole affair. He smiled. Yes, this one definitely had fire and Yusef always did love to play with torches.

* * * *

Olena sighed. Following the pilot’s signal to step down, she led the procession to the long aisle. The soft slippers on her feet were uncomfortable and she longed for her boots. Boredom was starting to set in when … bam. She was breathless, captured by a spell.

Eyes of a dark and dangerous gray rose to challenge her, glowing from the face of an ungodly dark creature of a man. This man was so unlike the lighter companions at his side. His possessive gaze sent chills over her skin in a way so unfamiliar to her that she had to shake herself to be sure she was still breathing.

The man smiled a dark, sultry smile she had seen so many times before. She wasn’t fooled. This man wanted her. He was staking claim to her with his animal magnetism. Even as she resented his confident smirk, she was stirred by it.

I’m surprised he doesn’t pee on my leg to mark his territory, she mused.

As she passed him, he had the audacity to bow to her. Olena snarled viciously at him, snapping her teeth in a saucy wench sort of way, which greatly upset the plans of his male vanity. Nevertheless, soon he was recovered and she saw the unmistakable light of daring in his gaze. His mask shifted as his brows rose in acceptance of her challenge. Again he bowed, blowing her a kiss just to watch her face flame.

Chapter Two

Olena was too angry to eat the great feast laid out before her. The presumption of that man! Thinking she would come to him willingly, just because he wished it. Oh, she knew what he wanted from her. It was clear in his very lecherous gaze.

Wearily, she admitted to herself, His very handsome, lecherous gaze.

Shivering as she thought about his dark, come-hither smile, Olena sighed.

A large buffet had been prepared, spread over the long wood table that the brides were directed to. It was a veritable feast of roasted two horned pigs, blocks of Qurilixen blue bread with whipped cheese, strange fruit, and crusted pastries. Olena grabbed a slice from the pig, taking a bite out of spite, just to prove to herself that she wasn’t distressed over this latest turn of events.

Glancing over, she saw the married couples feeding each other by the firelight. None of them bothered the brides who ate in isolation. The style was obviously long hair for both sexes. The women wore dresses of flowing material. The men wore simple tunic shirts and breeches, definitely appearing of a Medieval Earth influence.

Servants carried pitchers full of a strange berry wine and Olena eagerly waved one of them over. The man’s light blond hair fell over his shoulders as he bowed. The servants were more fully clothed than the bachelors had been. She held up her goblet, barely giving him a second glance.

"He makes for a peculiar servant," a thoughtful Pia pondered at her side.

Olena glanced over, drinking as she did so. The woman’s gaze was suspicious as she watched the blond man walking away.

Olena glanced at the blond giant. He looked like a servant to her, not a very good one by the way he spilled some of the wine on the ground as he walked away, but a servant nonetheless.

"They make for a peculiar race," Olena mumbled, secretly searching for the dark stranger. She absently ran her fingers through her hair, touching the firefly hairpin she had put in her locks. Its cold, black stones brought her a little comfort. After having been quarantined with a bunch of gossipy women, she was ready for a good challenge.

She smiled, knowing that the men were forbidden to have sex this night. That just might work to her advantage. She’d have the dark barbarian turned around in circles before he ever knew what hit him.

Pia laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Do you believe this whole deal?"

"What are you doing here anyway?" Olena asked curiously. "You hardly seem like the type to get trapped into coming."

"Free benefits," came Pia’s enigmatic answer. Her eyes shadowed for a moment and Olena wondered at the look. This woman was definitely hiding something. Before she could comment, Pia said, "I think I am going to follow that servant. He’s up to something."

Pia stood, when suddenly the grooms were before them, walking up to the platform table. They hadn’t changed as they came to claim their brides. Not all brides had been chosen and Olena grinned to see Gena still sitting alone, a look of horror on her stunned face.

"I am Yusef."

Olena glanced up. She had been pretending not to notice the dark warrior coming for her. She purposefully yawned, looking up at him. She felt Pia stand by her side and go around the table.

"Come," Yusef said, his accent as thrillingly dark as his gaze. He lifted his hand to take hers. It was a strong hand, with long tapered fingers. She saw calluses along the palm and shivered. Such a hand would feel so delectable against her skin.