The Barbarian Prince (4 page)

"Thanks, I can get it from here," she mumbled. Chewing the delicious morsel, she swallowed it and licked her lips, before wiping her mouth on her hand.

Ualan was puzzled.

"Listen," began Morrigan. "I--"

"Shh," whispered Ualan, shaking his head. His eyes closed briefly, and when he again looked at her it was with a puzzled expression. Morrigan thought that for a man of many actions, he wasn’t a man of many words. Softly, he said, "Your name."

"This isn--" Morrigan began anew, frustrated when he cut her off.

"Name," he stated louder, turning more serious. His arms stiffened in warning.

"Rigan," Morrigan answered at his hard tone, only to correct, "I mean Morrigan Blake. But, you can call me Rigan, everyone does."

Pleased by her answer, he nodded in approval and began to reach for her again. Morrigan continued to ease out of his range as he rounded the table for her. He stalked her like a beast, his eyes intent and focused on her every movement.

"Now, if you please, I’ll just be going," Morrigan said, easing her way to the tent flap. She did her best to smile as she waved tentatively at him. The gesture was more one of protection than of departure. Ualan looked like a wild creature perusing her, with his molten gaze and physical prowess. "Thank you for everything and good luck with that wife finding thing. I hope it goes well for you."

"It would not please me," he uttered darkly. He dropped his hand and sighed in growing frustration. Looking down at his crystal that burned brightly, he appeared bewildered by her rejection. There was a long silence, his stance challenging her to try and escape him. Morrigan knew that he would easily overtake her if she were to run.

"Listen," reasoned Morrigan. She tried to keep the condescending tilt from her tone, but it was hard. "I know you must be disappointed to have your little plans here spoiled." She waved her hand over the erotically charged tent as she spoke. "But, no means no. So, better luck next time. There are plenty of other women out there who weren’t chosen by your fellow warriors. They would be most willing to come here with you, I just don’t happen to be one of them. All of the other girls are most eager to get hitched up--"

Ualan took a threatening step forward at her words. Morrigan flinched.

"Back off, caveman!" she warned, going rigid and giving him her most menacing glare. The withering look didn’t have the desired effect, because he smirked in arrogance. Still, it wasn’t amusement she saw in those deep blue eyes of liquid fire. He was livid.

Ualan watched the Earth woman before him. His whole body tensed in aggravation. This is not how the elders foretold the bridal night. He wanted to yell at her, but honor forbid it. He could only say as few of words as possible when interacting with her. It was tradition. Maybe he wasn’t as blessed by the Gods as he had been wont to think. This wench was proving to be the most aggravating of….

Urgh! Blast it all, anyway.

"Now, let’s just calm down a little, okay sparky," Morrigan said, forcing her shoulders to relax. She eyed him warily, wondering if his English was bad. That could explain the confusion. Slowly, she began to enunciate her words. "I do not wish to get married."

He frowned.

"Now you," she said pointed at him with her hand before walking her fingers in the air, "walk out there and find another woman from the ship. Grab her." She shook her fist. "And lead her back to your bed."

By the time she had finished illustrating her words, she was pointing at the bed.

"Do you understand?" she continued slowly, perhaps a bit too slowly in her ire.

His frown deepened.

"Great," she muttered to herself. "Out of all the warriors out there, I have to get the gardener who can’t speak my language." Looking at him, she fumed, stating louder, "It’s called research, barbarian. You know, studying up before you take on a new task so you know what you are getting yourself into."

His frown turned into a full-blown scowl.

"I can’t talk to you, caveman. I’m leaving."

Spinning on her heels, she almost made it to the tent opening. Almost.

Ualan darted forward, stalking his prey with deathlike speed. Taking her firmly by the shoulder, he stepped around her and blocked the exit. His eyes burned as he stared her down. It was either try to mow him over bravely or slowly retreat like a coward. Morrigan grimaced warily. She was definitely a coward.

Ualan watched the timid creature nearly jump out of her skin as he again touched her. He forced himself to calm down. Perhaps she was just nervous. Her wide gaze kept looking over his body in a half-fascinated, half-wary sort of way. He knew she desired him. The crystal proved as much. Besides, even without the crystal, he could smell the potent flavor of her sex.

He knew that the tents were rumored to intimidate some Earth women with delicate sensibilities, unused to a man’s attentions. Seeming to have an idea, he asked bluntly, but quietly, "Have you been with a man?"

Morrigan blushed in horror. Her mouth worked, as she uttered, "I … I…."

His jaw lifted, waiting.

"That is none of your business!"

"Answer," he urged patiently, heartened by her discomfort. Being a male dominated race, his people were not so shy when it came to discussing such things. But he had been told that women were different. When he instructed her to her new role, she would not be so shy--not that his vanity minded the way she would blush when catching herself looking at him like a starving mirascat.

"Answer," she mocked, with a snarl. "Me Ualan, you woman--uh, uh."

He cocked his head. His stiff mouth saying he was unamused by her humor.

Morrigan sighed. Out of the blue, an idea struck her. Her eyes were shadowed over her lids, as she said, "Yes, yes I have."

Ualan managed to glide forward before she knew what he was doing. When Morrigan blinked, he was standing directly before her. All right, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. It didn’t seem he was dissuaded from his task--so much for the theory that the Qurilixian preferred virgins.

Bending over, his hand caught her arm in its callused grasp. Murmuring against her throat, he groaned, "Then you have no reason to deny me. Choose."

Morrigan shivered at his nearness. Seeing his lips bending so close, she was tempted to give up the battle. Why was she fighting him so hard? It wasn’t as if she had a lot of male suitors back home vying for mattress time.

Then, she saw his arrogant smirk when she hesitated answering. Oh, the battle was on. This barbarian was not going to get the best of her. It was a matter of principle now. She didn’t care who this caveman thought he was. He could be the King of the Seven Galaxies for all she cared. You just didn’t treat women like a piece of steak to be pushed around and chewed on at will.

"You don’t understand," whispered Morrigan, blinking her wide eyes in a way that seemed so innocent and disarming. Ualan’s nostrils flared. "I’ve been with several men. In fact, that is what my job is back on Earth. I’m a prostitute."

There! Morrigan thought, hard-pressed not to laugh when her words sunk in. The mean old barbarian didn’t like that one, did he?

"So, you see, you won’t want me." Morrigan’s will was weakening against the teasing promise of his lips as he moved closer to study her. She was scared of him, but thrilled by the assurance of his body. He sniffed her like a dog in heat. Morrigan tried to lean away. Her words not as confident as she caught the virile scent of his exotically oiled body, she weakly muttered, "Why don’t you just wait another year for a virgin if you don’t like the other women here tonight? Surely you’ll have first pick since you struck out this year."

Morrigan knew she needed to get out of the tent and work, but her eyes begged her to stay for just a moment longer so they could look more fully at him. In light of his touch, work didn’t seem so important at the moment. However, since work was her life, Morrigan was puzzled by the revelation. Maybe it was the wine. That was it--she was just a little drunk.

"The crystal does not lie," he whispered throatily and with confidence. "The Gods have spoken."

"What--?" Morrigan began, glancing around his neck at the glowing pulse of the crystal. Instantly, she could feel its power over her--tempting, inviting, demanding--just like its wearer. Her blood sang with the powers of the Qurilixian wine. But, in contrast to the wine on Earth, the Qurilixian blend did not exactly encourage sleep. "I don’t believe in your Go--"

"Silence!" His hand began to slide more insistently over her, pushing down the silken strands woven around her arms. His tilting, thick accent rolled over her in waves. "You question too much. You want this. Make your choice."

Morrigan gulped. He appeared very sure of himself and that fact.

Her mouth opened as if to protest. It would seem she would need more convincing. Ualan immediately pressed his lips to hers in a bold kiss. His tongue parted her mouth, drawing in her bottom lip to suck gently.

Her plea turned into a moan of surprise. Ualan growled, pulling her fiercely to his chest. Every hot, oiled inch of him molded to her skin. Her desire flowed into his nostrils, strong and potent.

The silk and gauze of her dress was no match against his fire. It was insanity and Morrigan knew it. She tried to fight his touch, tried to pull back, but her brain kept insisting, just one more feel, just a little longer, just let him touch you a little longer, longer….

Breaking free of her mouth, Ualan stared boldly at her chest. It heaved with deep pants. He smiled, tasting victory. With a purposeful finger, he flicked at the strap holding her gown up.

"Choose," he commanded her.

Morrigan looked around the tent, intrigued by the hot water, drawn to the bed, shamefully curious of the throne. She couldn’t utter the words. She couldn’t decide. She couldn’t ask for it. She was too overwhelmed. Her body sung in ways she had never known possible. Between the wine and the power of the crystal and man, she couldn’t think straight.

"Wine," Morrigan answered weak of breath and limb. Her hands trembled where they lay pinned against him, against the strong beating of his heart. She tried to push. It was a sorry effort. He was too strong, too tall, too overwhelming. "Please, can you go get me a different wine?"

His mouth opened as if to protest. Morrigan felt his fingernails clawing lightly at her back. She put her hand to his firm lips to stop him from speaking. Her wide eyes took him in with their desperation. Lying, she promised, "Go, I bid you. Then, then when you get back, we will finish this--all right?"

Ualan glanced over her body with a brutal growl of barely contained passion. His stomach tensed. Slowly, he nodded and took his hands from her skin.

Morrigan’s flesh jumped in instant protest. Her body ached. Her thighs and stomach quivered with stinging need. Her breasts were swollen with the anticipation of his touch. Morrigan watched him stride from the tent, taking her at her word.

"Oh," she breathed, too stunned for a moment to move. "The corporation said nothing about meeting you."

Morrigan was slow coming to her senses. When she was sure Ualan was away from the front of the tent, she poked her head out of the flap. With him gone, her body shivered as if chilled to the bone.

He was a strange man to be sure, acting on tradition and primal instinct. But what had she expected? He was a Qurilixian, not an Earthling. He grew up around men, probably used to spouting orders and having those orders followed. Although they were almost the same genetically, their customs were completely different.

Well, thought Morrigan, with a wry twist of her mouth. Not completely different. Had it been the Middle Ages on Earth, we would understand each other fairly well.

Though, Morrigan imagined a medieval Earthling would have spoken more, especially while trying to seduce someone. However, there was something dangerous and alluring about Ualan’s silent perusal. It was almost animalistic, the way he looked at her. It was as if he was unashamed of his desires and expected her to be unashamed of hers. What he didn’t say with words, she could read in his eyes and feel on her skin, as if he put the thoughts into her flesh with his will.

Morrigan frowned, vowing that, as soon as she got home, she was going to purchase the biggest damned sex droid her savings could buy. Robo-man would put this barbarian to shame--she’d make sure of it.

Seeing no one was outside the tent, Morrigan snuck out into the night. Dipping behind a blue tent and a red, she stopped to get her bearings.

"Do not fight it, Olena," she heard from within the red tent. "I can feel that you want me. You chose me."

A woman’s throaty moan followed the confident decree. Morrigan shivered, half tempted to go back to Ualan’s tent and see what else his firm body had to offer her. It wasn’t like she had to stay married to him or anything if they just had sex. And, who would know? Not her editor. Not anyone who mattered.

"Focus, girl," she whispered to herself. "He’s the big lug who thinks dragging a woman off into the sunset by her hair is romance."

Morrigan heard the woman Olena moan again, this time louder. Her body shivered. She wasn’t sure what she was doing outside of the tent. She had really thought there would be more talking before everyone got to know each other so intimately. If this was dating, she really had been off the scene a little too long.

Crossing quickly over to a green tent, Morrigan stopped near the flap opening. Seeing a crack, she couldn’t help but peek inside.

"Choose," a man said.

Morrigan leaned closer, trying to see who he was with. What was with all this choosing? Did the Qurilixian English teacher have a serious vocabulary problem? Suddenly, she felt as if they were abducted by aliens--handsome, virile aliens, but strange ones nonetheless.

"I … I can’t choose, Olek," she heard Nadja answer. "Not yet."

Morrigan saw a flash of skin as the woman moved past the opening. Soon, the man was behind her, his naked buttock flexing as he walked.

A dangerous jolt overcame Morrigan. She knew she should turn away. But these men were just too delicious for the eyes. Licking her lips, she tried to get another peek. It wasn’t as if she was a peeping-tom. She was an investigative reporter. Then, to her horror, she heard a low voice behind her.