The Barbarian Prince (2 page)

Morrigan looked down over her nearly exposed body and gave a wry smile. Since this was undoubtedly a male planet, men had assuredly designed these outfits. The gowns fell low over the breasts to reveal a generous cleavage. A belt of sorts went across their backs. But, instead of looping in the front, they continued to the sides, holding the wrists low like silken chains, and winding half way up the arm to lock over the elbows. The women couldn’t lift their arms over their heads.

Qurilixian women were rare due to the blue radiation the planet suffered from. Over the generations it had altered the men’s genetics to produce only strong, large male, warrior heirs. Maybe once in a thousand births was a Qurilixian female born. In the old days, they had used portals to snatch brides from their homes, bringing them back to their planet. There were even rumors that their species originated on Earth, but there was no proof.

The fact that they had no women of their own was why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable to them. In return, the Qurilixian would mine valuable metal that was only found in their caves. The metal was a great power source for long-voyaging starships, all but useless to the Qurilixian who preferred living as simply as possible. They were not known as explorers.

Sensing the line was about to move, Morrigan looked forward and pressed the emerald on her finger two times to take a quick picture of the waiting women for her article. The recorder in her eye blinked black, signifying it was working. Later, she would be able to download the images.

Outside the ship, she could see the soft glow of crackling firelight from a giant bonfire pit. The smell of burning wood mingled with nature’s exotic perfume. The Qurilixian moon overhead was large and bright, the biggest moon she had ever seen standing on a planet’s surface. The bonfire flames lapped at the starry night, sending sparks into the cool air. She could not see into the distance, she noticed, and only got a vague impression of a mountain.

Morrigan stepped forward and the cheers of rowdy men on the festival ground washed over her. Morrigan blushed despite herself, feeling almost naked in her ‘sacrificial’ attire.

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. Near the back, the married men sat in throne-like chairs with their wives firmly upon their laps. Morrigan was happy to discover that her information so far seemed correct. By their long hair and tunic style clothing, they appeared very much like the Vikings. The married women could be heard laughing as they watched the spectacle of those barbarians too young to participate in this year’s festival shout and pose for the prospective brides.

Morrigan swallowed nervously. Some of the women in front of her modeled before the watching crowd. She had the sudden urge to walk around them in an attempt to avoid the direct stage the docking platform had become. Dealing with slime-dwelling slugs was one thing--but humanoids? And not just any humanoids--strong, virile, women-starved, healthy, male humanoids. At the last minute, she remembered to snap a picture of the married couples and of the campgrounds.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Gena in a breathless murmur, leaning forward to peer over Morrigan’s shoulder. "Do you see them, Rigan? With men like that, who cares if you marry the gardener?"

Morrigan followed the woman’s eyes, curiously looking down the docking plank to the ground. The bachelors, standing below them, were indeed handsome. Although those behind the men laughed and a few continued to pose their muscles, the true bachelors held perfectly still. Their bronzed bodies were like statues, with only their lungs expanding and contracting to show they lived.

Morrigan wanted to run back inside. Her feet refused to move. That was until Gena gave her an eager shove to get her descending down the plank.

The Qurilixian males were every inch the proud warrior class they were rumored to be, some even seemed to tower nearly seven feet tall in height. Fur loincloths wrapped around their fit waists to leave bare their muscular legs and chests. The fire glistened off their smooth, oiled skin. Golden bands of intricate design clasped around sinewy biceps. From their solid necks hung crystals bound with leather straps.

Morrigan’s heart began to pound, partly in fear and partly in excitement. The sexual tension on the ship had been potent for the last month. Until that moment, Morrigan had been able to resist its lurid pull. But there was something to being at the campground--something erotic in its smell of burning wood and its rustic, yet colorful, sights. Music played, primal and earthy in the background, hypnotic, enticing, gyrating in its rhythms.

Black leather masks covered the men’s faces, hiding them from forehead to upper lip. Their lustful eyes shone bright from the eye slits, like liquid metal, or was it her imagination? Morrigan didn’t know.

Captured by a spell, she suddenly realized she was walking down an aisle made up of hot flesh on each side. They were so tall that the crowd behind them disappeared from view. She glanced to one side and then the other. Her heart continued to pound. Blood rushed inside her ears, deafening her.

Somehow, her feet managed to keep moving, propelling her forward in line. The watching crowd had gotten quiet as the bachelors studied the women, concentrating on them with their serious eyes and harshly pressed lips. Then her heart--and time--stopped. Her breath caught in her throat at meeting a solid blue gaze beneath a mask. The man’s eyes narrowed and a slow, leisurely smile commanded her attention to his lips. The crystal about his neck began to pulse and glow with a white light.

Morrigan felt the cool night breeze caress the tops of her breasts, as real as a hand against her skin. Chills worked their way over her bare throat and face. Her short, blue veil fluttered over her dark locks. Her hand lifted without her commanding it to, as if to reach out. It was held back by the silk shackles of her belt.

Blinking slowly, the man nodded at her in greeting. She turned her head to watch as she passed by him. His smile dropped from his features, replaced by passionate intent and electrifying promises. Morrigan shivered as her heart began to race anew.

As she moved forward through the remaining line of men, she looked around. The others were handsome, but none caught her notice or returned her gaze for very long. And none were as spellbinding as the man with the radiant blue eyes had been. She wondered at the curious feeling in her veins each time she thought of it. She wanted to look back, but her neck refused to turn. He was so like all the others and yet somehow different.

Making her way to a raised platform laden with a gigantic feast, Morrigan forgot all about the emerald on her finger and her newspaper assignment.

Chapter Two

Ualan of Draig smiled as the Earth woman walked past him. She was clad in his people’s traditional garb. The material wrapped around her body, hugging her curves in a way that made a man ache to watch it. Whoever made up this tradition had been sadistic. Already he was tortured, tight with longing.

His bride had hair the color of midnight and wide eyes that he would gladly spend the rest of his life looking into. Slowly, he felt a change beginning in his limbs as the crystal glowed about his neck with untold promises. Ualan smiled. The Gods had indeed been kind to him.

As her hand lifted to him, he was surprised. The brides rarely moved, except to walk, while inside the procession of finding. If they did, it was ultimately considered a good omen, though some of the elders believed it meant for a hard beginning. Ualan was optimistic. His marriage would surely be blessed. His body had instantly felt the fiery connection between them when she looked at him.

When the last bride passed, the mighty Qurilixian bachelors turned to trail in the other direction. They were abnormally quiet, as was tradition. Those who had been blessed needed to go to the temple and give thanks. Those who hadn’t needed to regroup. Besides, it was good to let the travel weary women rest. For those who were chosen by the crystal, it would be a long and pleasured night.

* * * *

The feast was laid out on large trenchers, set directly before the brides, and spread over long wooden tables like a buffet. The married couples dined on their own, around the campfire at a distance from the prospective brides. Morrigan saw that the wives were feeding their husbands by hand.

She was hesitant to taste the roasted two-horned pigs and blocks of Qurilixian blue bread with whipped cheese laid out on plates in front of her. Though it smelled wonderful, she had never had a meal that wasn’t first purified in a food simulator. Thinking of all the alien parasites that might be in it, she held back. She had done a story on this issue once. What the little critters did to humans hadn’t been pretty. Thinking of the popping stink pustules she had been forced to photograph, she gagged. It was enough to keep her stomach from rumbling.

In curiosity, her eyes roamed over the campground. The bachelors were missing. She had been in too much of a daze to see where they had headed. The dreamlike fog had astounded her at first, until she had determined it was just nerves. She was used to watching the spotlight from the sidelines, not being in the middle of it.

Servants carried pitchers full of a strange berry wine. Morrigan vaguely remembered its name roughly translating to mean ‘Maiden’s Last Breath’. Thinking that the liquor would definitely kill any adverse critters floating in the drink, she tried it. The sweet taste was intoxicatingly wonderful.

Most of the other women dined in jittery silence. Some flirted with the handsome servants who were too young to participate and who were more fully clothed than the bachelors had been. It was hard for the brides to lift their arms, so the attractive servants retrieved anything they desired for them. Some even went so far as to offer the women food by their own hand.

The sparkling emerald on her finger caught Morrigan’s attention. She set down her goblet of the berry wine. She realized she spent most of the meal without taking a picture or video feed. How could she have forgotten her assignment? Shaking her head, she put her hand under the table and pressed the emerald once to begin recording.

Looking again for the men, she leaned to Nadja at her side and asked, "Where do you think they went off to?"

Nadja jolted, surprised to hear Morrigan speak. Lifting her glass, the woman began to answer but was cut off by the servant who rushed to fill her half-empty goblet. Nadja started in surprise, but let him.

"They go to make an offering to the Gods," said the young man. Nadja lowered her goblet to the table when he finished. The servant topped off Morrigan’s goblet, urging her to drink with a wave of his hand. Morrigan smiled timidly at him, seeing that he had a thin scar across the tip of his nose. "They ask for blessing this night in finding a wife."

"Oh," Morrigan said. She smiled at the servant, thinking his superstitions adorable. He didn’t move away. He looked down at her drink, again urging silently for her to drink it. Morrigan lifted it and took several obvious gulps. The servant grinned and walked away to attend some of the other ladies in need of more wine.

"Are you nervous?" Nadja asked in a hush when they were alone. She didn’t wait for the woman to answer. She giggled apprehensively. "I can barely sit still. I think this drink has a lot of liquor or something in it."

Morrigan’s head was becoming a bit light. She continued to drink anyway, knowing it would take more than a little wine to get her drunk. But, when her head spun lightly with a fog, she rethought her assumption about the drink and mustered up her courage to try the blue bread. She hoped it would soak up the liquor and keep her head level. She wouldn’t be able to write her story if she were too drunk to remember what happened.

"Rigan," began Nadja in a hush. Morrigan looked over at the woman’s pale face. Her blue eyes danced around in her porcelain skin. Leaning forward, she whispered, "I’m scared. I think I’ve made a mistake. Do you think they would let me go back to the ship?"

"What’s wrong?" asked Morrigan. She had spoken to the woman a few times, but mostly Nadja had kept to herself.

"I…." Nadja paused and shook her head. Her eyes seemed close to tearing. "They’re very big, aren’t they?"

"Who, the men?" asked Morrigan needlessly. She thought of the magnetic blue eyes of the warrior, visualizing them as if he was before her. Oh, yes, they were very big.

"Yes," whispered Nadja. Her wide eyes looked down as she swallowed nervously. "Do you think they will … will hurt us? They seem bigger than most Earth men."

Morrigan looked at the woman in surprise. "Nadja, have you been with a man before?"

Nadja shook her head, embarrassed.

"Not even a droid?" insisted Morrigan. She herself wasn’t exactly a virgin. She had been with a droid once and, though it was fine, it was nothing special. A quick mind sweep on her home computer could repeat similar sensations in less time and with much less energy.

Morrigan had known that she would have to get rid of her virginity in order to get her story. Though, to her disappointment, none of the technicians had said anything to her about it, except to clarify her status as they went through her records. However, she decided it was possible that they suspected who she was after the history scan.

"No." Nadja gulped. Her gaze roamed over the fluttering tents in the distance. Shivering, she admitted, "I was always too embarrassed to go to the clubs and try one. But, I’ve seen pictures. Do you think that these guys are … shaped differently?"

"I haven’t given it much thought. I think galaxy law requires the species to be, uh, physically compatible before they are matched up. Otherwise, the marriage would do no good. Besides, I hate to sound crass, but the whole point of this is so they can propagate their species."

"I suppose," Nadja said, not seeming to relax at Morrigan’s cold examination of their situation. She drank more of her wine. Without having to be asked, a servant was right there to fill it for her. She drank that cup too.