EXCERPT

Dragon Lords Book Three:
THE DARK PRINCE

By

Michelle M. Pillow

Dedication:
To Tracy Sutherland
For something you once said

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 aide 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 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."

"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.

"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 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.

The fact that they 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 she almost stopped there for repairs. Even though they didn’t land, a pirate always remembered a 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 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.

© copyright Michelle M. Pillow, September 2004

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

 REVIEWS

4 ANGELS! Fallen Angel Review

Ecataromance

4 STARS! "Once again, Michelle M. Pillow has written a phenomenal futuristic romance. THE DARK PRINCE continues the intrigues present in the previous two Dragon Lord books, but from the point of view of Yusef and Olena. Like the other princes, their relationship has a very rocky start. I thoroughly enjoyed watching these two fall in love. As Ms. Pillow is known for, passion and spicy scenes abound. The sparks fly between these two and lead to some steamy encounters. I cannot wait for the next installment in this series, which will be THE WARRIOR PRINCE. If you want a fabulous and sexy futuristic romance to read, you can’t go wrong with THE DARK PRINCE." Nicole Hulst, eCataRomance Reviews

The Romance Studio

4 HEARTS "The Dark Prince is another installment in the Dragon Lords series and Michelle M. Pillow pulls off another excellent plot. Prince Yusef is sensual and confident in his seductive abilities to make Olena give in. Olena on the other hand is just as determined to resist his seductive powers. It is a battle of wills and the victor will take all. There is also the problem that Olena is a fugitive and hiding out. This story will keep you turning the pages in anticipation to see just what will happen next. I can't wait to see what the next book in the series will bring and who will be the next Lord to fall."

Reviewer: Angel Brewer
November 22, 2004

Coffee Time Romance

4 CUPS Ms. Pillow has created a fascinating world of shape shifting dragons and the women who come to love them. I am sure fans of the previous books in the Dragon Lords series will enjoy this book just as much as I did. I cannot wait to read the next book in the series, The Warrior Prince, which is due to come out in January of 2005. The Dark  Prince is most definitely a keeper!

Susan White

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