The Barbarian Prince (5 page)

"You cannot run. The crystal will always find you."

* * * *

Ualan’s hand began to tremble as he tried to contain himself. He clenched it into a fist. His mouth tightened into a harsh line. By all that was sacred, what had he done to the Gods to deserve this aggravation?

Ualan knew she was fighting what he stirred in her. He was a warrior, up to the challenge of a good fight. Although, he did growl in frustration to find his bride had escaped his tent. He suspected she would try, though he was still disappointed. He forced himself to relax. She was a mystery, one he would have to figure out. He didn’t have a choice.

Truthfully, he was unnerved by her admission of many men. He would just have to watch her very carefully. It would not do to have her play him false. It was rare that it should happen, but it had happened.

Ualan remembered how she melted to his kiss. It seemed there was a way to quiet her spirited tongue after all. She might fight him, but she was not immune. Seeing her nearby, crouched by his brother’s tent, he smiled. It had not been hard for him to track her. Silently, he came up behind her. Forcing his face to be stern, he stated, "You cannot run. The crystal will always find you."

Chapter Four

Morrigan jolted in alarm at the bold words. Spinning on her heels, she saw Ualan standing, wine goblet in hand. The crystal at his neck pulsed. At the same moment a heat spread between her thighs and her nipples hardened. Her face drained of color, horrified at being caught watching the other couple.

"You don’t understand," began Morrigan, with a feeble lift of her hand to stop his progress.

Ualan glanced at the tent opening and grinned, holding out the goblet for her to take. Morrigan’s cheeks stained a bright, flaming pink that even the darkness couldn’t hide. She knew he understood all too well what she had been doing.

Morrigan balked. Refusing to take the goblet he offered because it would take her closer to his delectable body, she shook her head. Distracted, she tried to ignore the powerful draw of his chest. "It’s not what you think. My friend is in there and I wanted to make sure she was all right. I don’t want you barbarians hurting her or anything."

Again, his head moved but he said nothing. When Morrigan did not reach for the goblet, Ualan let it slide from his hand. It landed with a soft thud on the ground, spilling the wine into the dirt.

"Come," Ualan said with a curl of his fingers. Intent now burned hotly in his gaze and flooded into his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she detected some anger in his word, or was it exasperation?

The crystal pulsed in his frustration. Morrigan’s blood roared in her veins. The sound of moans came from within the field of tents. Sexual energy rose in the air. All the talk on the ship of sex with able-bodied men, combined with the largeness of Ualan’s form, filled her head. A chant was struck up in her brain, singing sweetly, what harm is there in one night?

Treacherous brain.

Ugh, most treacherous body.

Absently pushing the emerald on her finger to make sure the camera was off, Morrigan stepped forward. Laying her hand over Ualan’s heart, next to the crystal, she felt him tense beneath her palm. He eyed her warily, as if he expected her to try something deceitful. Her eyes dipped down to look at the glowing stone. She didn’t dare touch it.

"Come," he spoke tenderly, when she didn’t move.

Morrigan nodded her head. He wove a spell around her senses. It was a deliciously wicked curse she could not be free of.

One night, she promised herself. No one will ever find out.

Ualan’s eyes closed briefly and he seemed to sigh in relief that she was finally willing. Some of the tension he carried all night eased out of him. Taking her by the hand so she could not change her mind, he quickly led her through the pyramid-studded maze back to his tent.

Once inside, he did not let go. He took her hand and pulled her forward to him. His eyes shone from the slits of the mask, probing her. Pressing her fingers once more above his heart, he breathed, "Choose."

Morrigan quivered. His heart beat beneath her fingers in strong, barbaric thuds.

When she didn’t readily answer, Ualan groaned and took her free hand in his. Pulling it to the fur loincloth about his waist, he showed her how much he desired her by pressing her fingers boldly onto his potent erection. Almost like a plea, he said again, "Choose."

"I don’t know," she whispered, thinking how strange these silent warrior men were. She didn’t move her hand from the hard press of his desire, nor did she leave the excited beat of his heart. Her fingers flexed, easing slightly forward to feel him, but not too much as to be brazen or inviting. Frankly, the enormous size of his member terrified her. She looked over his mask with the sudden urge to rip it from his features, but part of the thrill was in not seeing.

Ualan grunted, rotating his hips against her hesitant fingers. His breath came deep. Closing his eyes, he saw she needed more persuasion. He nodded, before urging hoarsely, "Undress."

He did not wait for her to comply. His fingers met the flesh of her shoulders and with an urgent push he worked the material off her arms. With a quick jerk, her breasts were freed for his viewing.

Morrigan gasped, drawing her hands away from him. Like a man possessed, he touched her chest, cupping the tender globes into his eager palms. His heated fingers melted around her, massaging her nipples as if they were the finest things he had ever held. Ualan licked his lips. His eyes stayed focused, almost possessively, on what he did.

Morrigan tried to back away. He pursued her. Her hands tried to bat his. He ignored them.

"Stop," she whimpered. But, as her head rolled back on her shoulders and her mouth gasped for air, her body urged otherwise. She gulped.

Ualan held back, not giving her body what it begged for. Finally, after thorough torture, his fingers moved over her soft skin to her hips. Freeing her completely of the Qurilixian gown, he pulled back to stare.

Morrigan blushed, but did not back away. One did not back away in a dream. The fog was all around her, encircling them. She didn’t want to wake up just yet. Emboldened by the isolation of the planet and knowing that after tomorrow she would never see Ualan again, she stepped forward.

Devouring his chest with her eyes, she hesitantly ran her finger down the center of his throat, over his nipples and down his flat, tensing ribcage. Her nails tripped over the fur along his waist in an agonizingly slow journey across his stomach. Watching his mask, she saw his nostrils flare. His chest rose evenly and his eyes bore forward into hers. He didn’t stop her. In fact, it seemed he was silently urging her in approval. Turning her hand, she began the journey back up.

With a grunt, Ualan expressed his displeasure in her change of route. Unflinchingly, his eyes gazed forward into her as he pulled the side of the fur loincloth, instantly freeing himself when she would not. Morrigan gasped, stumbling back. Wide-eyed, she stared at his member. It looked nothing like the small protrusion on the droid. Her mouth went dry. Realizing she stared, her eyes pulled away, frightened. She quickly turned from him.

Ualan confidently looked his fill of her naked form. His gaze took in her brightly painted toenails, her smooth legs, her athletic thighs, and the divot of her navel, her strong hips, her lovely breasts, and slender arms. The soft dark hair of her nether region was cropped short and shaved into a narrow line that guarded her opening.

Ualan smiled in amusement, thankful for the view her embarrassment gave him of her backside. For a woman who claimed to have had many men, she wasn’t acting like it. Later, when the ceremony was over and they could speak more freely, he would have to teach her the dangers of lying to her husband. But for now….

"Turn," he commanded, his need for her hot. He was not finished inspecting his new bride.

Morrigan had been just about to reach for her discarded clothing when the word hit her like a blast. His accent was hoarse, thick, tortured. How could she not obey it? Her eyes met his, not daring to venture downward. He came to her, glorious and proud.

"Hold still," he ordered. She didn’t dare move. She whimpered when his finger touched her cheek. Lightly, it trailed her features, between her eyes, down the slope of her nose, into the indention above her lips. Her mouth parted. He traced her lips in a feathery caress.

Soon, the veil fluttered from her heavy locks. Her hair tumbled in dark silk waves over her shoulders. Ualan watched in obvious pleasure as her eyes dreamily closed.

Keeping his touch light, he drew his hand over her throat. He moved in aimless circles, taking his time with her flesh--purposefully tormenting it, as he made her more fevered parts wait.

Morrigan was in heaven, every nerve inside her radiated around his touch. Her mind followed its every whispering move. Her back arched, trying to push fully at his teasing hand when he discovered the valley between her breasts. Her mind relented, the fog deepened.

Her eyes fluttered open, almost frightened to see the look on his face. He was concentrating on his fingers, watching them figure skate over her heating flesh as if this was the most important thing he’d ever done. His touch danced figure-eights around her breasts, coming closer to the center with each sweeping pass.

Morrigan moaned, overwhelmed by her passion for him. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. He was like nothing she had ever seen before, and being a star-traveling reporter she had seen a lot.

Her hands began to disobey his order. They rose to touch him. As her fingers met his heated flesh, his hand stopped and he looked up with a challenging fight in his eyes. Morrigan quickly lowered her hands back to her sides. His fingers moved again.

The glowing crystal pulsed between them, giving off a heat that joined them even as it bit into their flesh. Just as his pass would have taken him directly over the peaked buds awaiting him, his hand changed course, dipping over her stomach.

Morrigan tried to fight it, but the whimper wouldn’t stop as it snuck past her throat. The soft, feminine sound of confusion and surrender was more than even the war-hardened Qurilixian could resist. Her fingers twitched nervously. Her breath came in pants.

For Ualan, what had started as a show of power quickly turned into a lesson in self-deprivation. He had to concentrate to keep from consuming her. Gripping her hair, he forced her head back, thrusting her breasts up for the delight of his lips. His mouth came down to lightly lick the tip of a nipple. He thought to only get a hint of what would come with marriage. But, as he soon discovered, one taste was never enough. Like a drunkard craving ale, he tasted her again. His mouth opened, taking a nipple into its depths, swirling it with the rough texture of his tongue, nipping it deliciously with his teeth.

Morrigan bucked. She felt as if she was drowning in a pool of turbulent sensations. He was dragging her under the tide of his passion, but she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to. She was his prisoner and, for the moment, nothing else mattered.

Ualan kept distance between their bodies, but all the while his mouth trailed kisses, now over the valley of her breasts to give ample attention to the other side. When she spasmed against him, he grinned against the creamy globe and pulled her closer.

Morrigan trembled, uncertain of what to expect. She only knew she didn’t want him to stop.

Ualan groaned, a low animalistic sound, against her heated flesh. His hands discovered the firm pleasure of her derrière. She felt the heat of his erection pressing dangerously close to her tender stomach, searing her skin. Morrigan froze, suddenly afraid of his demands. The fire was too much for her innocent mind to process. She needed to step back and think. She needed to … oh!

Ualan’s strong arms gripped tighter, refusing to let her pull away. Releasing her breast, he claimed her mouth in a swift, passionate embrace. Kissing her with the same fervor he had shown her chest, he tasted her lips before delving beneath the surface to suck her tongue into her mouth.

As abruptly as his assault on her body began, it ended. Quickly pulling away, he grabbed his loincloth and wrapped it around his waist before she could even think to protest it. Morrigan blinked in confusion. A cold chill swept her body as she watched him. His breath was calm and he didn’t look at all affected by what had transpired.

"Dress," he commanded softly.

Morrigan’s body stung, unfulfilled and burning with an ache she couldn’t possibly begin to explore with him staring at her dispassionately like that. With a long, irritated growl, she began gathering the Qurilixian gown from the floor. Slipping it over her body, she left the belt ties off her arms so she could move more freely.

Combing her fingers through her hair, Morrigan searched for a hair tie. Not finding anything of use, she tied the locks into a giant knot at the nape of her neck to hold it from her face. She refused to look at him until she had finished. When she turned around, he was gone.

* * * *

Ualan stormed through the encampment, too irritated to remain in his tent. His arms tingled with the desire to find a sword and lop off his bride’s frustrating, yet beautiful head. His lesson was finished. Anymore and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. The smell of her passion filled his head. But the law was strict. Until the women chose, the men could not push it further than he already had. Surely, once he explained her refusal to choose, he would be pardoned for it.

In fact, if she wanted, she could demand justice for his actions and put him on guard duty for a month in the lowest level of dungeons. It was a dreaded task, often used as a punishment for small offenders. Spending such a long time in the dark was hard on those used to this bright planet--not because they were afraid, for they could see very well in the dark, but because the blue sun nourished them and gave them life.

"This is no place to be on the bridal night," came an amused chuckle. "How do you expect to woo her if you aren’t near her?"

Ualan stopped. His solid blue eyes turned to study a pair of beast-like green. Agro was dressed in the traditional tunic and breeches of their people. It was an old style, one the men felt no reason to change. It worked well in combat and in practice.