The Barbarian Prince (15 page)

"And if the slave gives the master pleasure? Does the slave become the master?" asked Morrigan, completely enthralled with the custom she stumbled upon. If she could control Ualan and make him a slave … She grinned. There were a lot of things she would want her little slave to do for her. Oh, yeah, and she’d make him break up with her too. Pushing those thoughts aside, she forced herself to hear the answer.

Mirox cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed by the forward question and the look on her ladyship’s face. But she had asked, so he couldn’t deny answering.

"It is allowed," Mirox said. "It is a great honor to for the master to receive such a gift."

"So they can’t demand it?"

"No, they cannot," he agreed. Then, smiling, he said, "If the master is particularly persuasive, he can convince the slave to please him. But he can never force her."

"If what you say is true, then your law does not apply to royalty?"

Mirox furrowed his brows, not following her.

"I mean, if the Queen is displeased with her slave and can make her whore for the soldiers … what?"

Mirox chocked on his own spit, coughing at the very idea. Chosen women could never be made to whore. No woman could ever be made to whore.

Morrigan knitted her brows at the look he gave her.

Cordele clapped her hands for attention, secretly saving Mirox as she waved him away from her student. Morrigan shrugged, following a twirl. Mirox had given her a lot to think about. If she could just enslave Ualan, then she could make him let her out of the house.

Cordele smiled at her student. Morrigan was doing rather well, for a beginner. Her husband should be pleased enough with her efforts this day. With a little practice, she would be able to dance for him in the common hall for all to see. It would be a great honor for both of them if she did well.

It was probably a good thing Cordele couldn’t share her thoughts with her student, for Morrigan was determining that dancing might be great exercise, but Ualan would never be seeing her talent for it first hand.

* * * *

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Standing, barely clad in the disgustingly revealing dance costume, Morrigan scowled in displeasure. It seems Mirox neglected to tell her that at the end of the lesson, she was supposed to give a little dance recital for her husband to prove she had been working.

"I should have chosen cleaning," she growled bitterly.

The costume was no more than a pink gem-studded bra and a matching hot pants that formed at sort of g-string in the back. A long veil was pushed into her hair to hide her backside--that is until she swished her hips to the side.

"I’m not going out there like this," Morrigan told Cordele who was smiling at her like a fool.

Cordele didn’t answer as she placed a music bracelet on Morrigan’s wrist.

Morrigan frowned. She was going out there. She knew she was. Ualan’s decree had been clear and there had been just enough threat in his gaze, daring her to disobey.

Become the master, chanted Morrigan silently. Make him the slave. Then you will make a deal for your freedom.

Hum, maybe dancing would be a good thing. Already she knew that such an idea would be easier said than done. She would just have to keep her wits about her.

* * * *

Ualan’s body was already tense. He knew this was going to be one of the longest nights of his life. He’d caught just a glimpse of Morrigan’s shaking waist when he came home. It was enough to make him regret what he was forcing her to do.

She’s got to learn her place is as my wife if we are to have any chance at a happy marriage, he told himself.

He was sitting on the couch, facing the center firelight. When Morrigan disappeared into the bathroom to change nearly a half hour ago, he had dimmed the lights and set the mood. He had changed into loose cotton pants with a drawstring tie in the front. The dark charcoal color was a nice contrast to the lighter cotton shirt he wore. His bare feet flexed in front of him, and his arms lifted to the back of the couch. If he had anything to do with it, she would be repenting her slavery tonight.

By all that was sacred, he wanted her. She haunted his dreams with the memory of her lush lips. She haunted his days with the persistence of her stubborn fire. Ualan was fast learning that he wasn’t a patient man. He wanted her and he meant to have her.

Ualan nearly jumped up in anticipation when he heard footsteps. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Cordele and nodded. The woman smiled secretly back at him.

"She will be out in a moment," the woman whispered in the Qurilixian tongue. Her words were well pronounced, but the accent of her birth still carried with them.

Ualan nodded at her. His throat was too dry to thank the woman. He forced himself to hold still as she left.

"Should we get this over with?"

Ualan froze, forcing himself not to whirl around to see her. Lifting his hand, he motioned her forward with the tilting of his fingers.

Morrigan made a face at the back of his head, sticking out her tongue and rudely mocking him with silent curses. Taking a deep breath, she went forward. She wished she could have been more confident, but inside she shook. It angered her, but her eyes sought desperately for his approval. Standing before him in the center ring, but not to close, she waited. His eyes stayed with the fire, as if he was being forced to do an unpleasant task. His disinterest stung and made her waspish.

Become the master, she chanted silently. Make him the slave. Then you will make a deal for your freedom.

"Ready, master?" she murmured with what she told herself was false sweetness.

Ualan’s neck almost snapped as he turned to look at her. Her words were husky, excited. He swallowed. Her round eyes were looking at him expectantly. Her lush lips were parted in even breath, tempting him to her. He held back. He had to.

"Proceed," he answered, keeping his tone hard. As she moved to stand between him and the center flame, his voice was lost. He couldn’t have spoken more if he wanted to.

The firelight outlined her body, haloing around her barely clad hips, sparking like stars off the crystals of her bodice and panties. Her feet were bare, as was tradition. The little dancing lights hypnotized him and he stared at her chest and waist with an intense male hunger growing within him. His loins, which seemed to be in a constant state of half-arousal at all times anyway, gladly stirred as they hardened with lust to torment him.

Morrigan watched as his eyes flashed with liquid gold before he caught himself. He didn’t move. His hard tone was just an act. She grew empowered. Soon, he would be eating out of the palm of her hand.

Ualan’s feet were still lounging forward crossed at the ankles. His clothes were comfortable, hugging carelessly to his strong flesh. She never in her life saw a man who made clothes look so … so delectable.

Morrigan had the strangest urge to kneel before him and run her fingers up the strong legs. Making him her slave would have its privileges, she decided, so long as he finished what he stirred so easily in her body. Maybe then she would not be tormented by thoughts of him. He would be out of her system.

"Dance," he whispered, aware of the sparks between them. His arms stayed lounged over the sides of the couch. He gripped his hands to keep them there.

Morrigan smiled, she couldn’t help herself. Running a finger over her wrist, music softly sounded. It was archaic in its primitive rhythms and she felt like she was before a sultan. At first she was a little nervous and her movements were stiff. But, remembering what Cordele had told her, she closed her eyes and imagined she danced alone. When her body loosened and she could feel the seductive music inside her, stirring up a primal passion, she looked boldly at Ualan.

He was frozen, his chest heaving in animalistic pants. As she turned away from him to shake her hips in undulating motions, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened in bewilderment. Her nearly bare backside peeked from the sides of the long veil. His fingers gripped into tight fists. He quickly snapped his jaw up and loosened his hands before she could see his dumbfounded expression.

The music continued. When Morrigan saw she had Ualan’s undivided attention, she slowly worked her way forward. A battle lit in his narrowing eyes, to match the look she gave him. A half smile curled his masculine lips as she danced within his reach. Twirling, her legs spread over his as she turned from him.

Morrigan hid her mischievous expression. It was time to add her own moves to the routine. She was suddenly thankful she had made friends with the exotic dancer she lived with while being undercover for a month in the Zigar complex. She had been investigating a secret romance between the Zigar president and his brother’s wife. What a mess that situation had been!

Morrigan suddenly leaned over, tossing the long veil over her shoulder to expose her back as she dropped to a crouch. Knees to the side, she leaned over to dance astride Ualan’s feet. Her buttocks came up before her head, making slow circles as it climbed.

Ualan’s hands shot forward in surprise. He almost came completely off the couch. He’d never seen anything like it before. His mouth opened, wanting to take a love bite into his wife’s very luscious backside. Her long legs were bare, clad only in firelight.

When Morrigan moved her way back up she turned, swinging her legs to straddle him so she faced him. Ualan’s hands were crossed over his chest. His eyes were transfixed on her, eager to see what she would do next. The smell of her engulfed his enthralled senses.

Morrigan knew the song was nearing its end. She worked her hips in agonizing circles, moving her feet and hands in waves as she made the journey closer. Ualan’s head tilted back to watch her. With a swing, her hips dipped low, almost low enough to touch him. Ualan straightened, pulling his legs in as she wove her arms near his head. Her dark eyes glittered with the power of an enchantress.

The music faded. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath. Seeing his passion-laden eyes, she was as seduced by her performance as he was. Slowly, she lowered her hands from near his head and pulled to stand before him.

Blinking heavy lids, she said, "Is my master pleased?"

Ualan’s answer was a growl as he grabbed her roughly and pulled her astride his lap. Instantly, he began kissing her neck. His fingers traveled her spine, forcing her forward. Morrigan grabbed his shoulders, frightened by the passionate press of his body to hers. Ualan didn’t feel her struggle, thinking she knew what she was doing. Her dance said she knew what she was begging for. And so help him, his body wanted to give it to her.

Ualan released her neck pulse from his searing kisses. Taking her hips, he slid her forward to press into the hot, throbbing length of him. Cotton and a g-string was no match for the fire burning in his loins. It shot a potent spark along her body, filling her with moisture and heat.

Morrigan gasped at the power of him.

"Do you feel how pleased I am, Rigan?" he groaned, undulating into her.

She gasped again. Maybe her plan had worked a little too well.

When she didn’t speak, he insisted, "Do you feel what you do to me, slave?"

Morrigan gulped, nodding.

His eyes flashed with golden fire, smelling her desire like an animal in heat.

"Where did you learn to dance like that? Cordele does not teach such a thing."

"Zigar complex," she uttered weakly, too far gone to lie.

Before Morrigan realized what he was doing, her top loosened and fell forward to bare her breasts. His hands pulled the studded material off her with a deft flick. Her hands didn’t move from his shoulders. His fingers took to her hips. Massaging them gently, but unrelentingly, he urged, "Dance for me again."

Morrigan tried to stand. Ualan shook his head in denial. His fingers moved to her arm to start the music anew.

"Here, dance for me here."

The hands on her hips pulled her forward so she was intimately close to his fiery erection. His eyes bore into her, waiting.

Slowly, Morrigan began to move her arms. Ualan nodded, pleased. His eyes devoured her, starting with her breasts. Her hips circled near his waist in a slower mimicry of what she had done earlier. Her body brushed up against his erection in teasing strokes.

"Oh," he groaned, closing his eyes in ecstasy. To her surprise and pleasure, he growled, "You will be the death of me, woman."

His hand began to move on her before his eyes again opened. His body swayed slightly beneath her, dancing with her in a private rhythm.

"You make me burn, Rigan," he sighed. His hair fell over his shoulders. He moved as if he would take her breast in his mouth, but then held back with a bite of his lips, denying them both.

Unable to stop the words, her body too on fire to think straight, she begged shyly, "Make love to me, Ualan."

She stopped dancing, her arms falling to his shoulders.

With a rip, he tore at her panties, opening them at both hips. Tugging them from between her thighs, he watched her tremble at the caress. It would be so easy to lower his cotton pants just so and slide into her.

Taking her now naked hips, he felt her buttocks, squeezing them as he pulled her to him. Blocked by the barrier of cotton, he slid her along his member, letting her get a feel.

She nearly fainted.

"Is this what you want?" he commanded with a tempered thrust, his voice leaving no doubt who was in charge.

"Yes," she panted weakly. Her heart hammered in her veins. She clutched his shoulders, letting him control her movements.

"You want me inside of you, don’t you, Rigan?" he whispered to her hotly. "You want to ride me?"

"Oh, God, yes," she pleaded, not completely knowing what she agreed to.

"Then say it, Morrigan, say the words."

"I want you inside me," she panted, near frenzy. "I want to ride you."

Ualan grinned, satisfied. Leaning over, he nipped at her peaked and sweaty breasts. Growling against her skin, he demanded, "Who am I to you, Rigan?"

"My master."

"Who am I?" he insisted again, biting the solid nub slightly as punishment when she didn’t answer correctly. He licked the hurt right after with the full press of his soothing tongue.