Chapter One

Prince Rastrath sat on the bottom of his pool and looked up at the sky through the shimmering surface above. His Sheraen heritage allowed him to remain underwater for as long as he wished, and he found it one of the few enjoyable reminders of his mixed blood. There was a peace to be found here that could not be found in the palace above. A figure appeared at the edge of his circle of vision and his peace disappeared. With a sigh, he rose to the surface and blinked to clear the nictitating membrane from his eyes.

“Your Highness,” Marious stuttered nervously, and he bit back an impatient remark. His father’s retainers were only too conscious of the Imperial side of his ancestry. They seemed to think he could have their heads chopped off with a wave of his hand. Technically he could, but he was neither as capricious nor as vicious as they seemed to expect.

“What is it?”

“The slave trader is here.” Marious dropped his voice and took a quick glance around. “He has one of those humans you expressed an interest in, although she is not for sale.”

A spike of excitement filled Rastrath. A human slave had seduced Kievan Rus—one of the coldest and most controlled beings Rastrath had ever met—into challenging Prince Ustrod. Ustrod had been Rastrath’s most despicable cousin, which was saying something given the general state of the Royal House, but he was also one of the most powerful. Yet Kievan hadn’t hesitated to take him on in defense of his female. In killing Ustrod, Kievan had removed a cancer from the Empire, but he had also left a dangerous secret. That secret was one of the reasons he was here, on a planet he had vowed never to visit. The presence of a human was an unexpected diversion.

“You will accompany me,” he ordered Marious.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the steward responded and skittered backward. Rastrath reached for his robe, then hesitated. The simple silk garment was a far cry from the ostentatious clothing he usually wore but with a mental shrug, he pulled it on. There was no one here he needed to impress—or to mislead. Without giving it another thought, he strode out of the room.

Marious hurried after him and Rastrath reluctantly slowed down to accommodate the man’s shorter legs. He couldn’t bring himself to make the steward run behind. He might find him annoying but, so far at least, he seemed to be genuinely concerned with ensuring both that Rastrath’s wishes were fulfilled and that the household ran smoothly. Unfortunately, the man took advantage of the slower pace to start a conversation.

“Your Highness,” Marious said tentatively. “We were wondering…”

“Yes?” He knew his voice was not encouraging, but the steward was not deterred.

“The fall session of Parliament will convene soon. It would be a good opportunity for a coronation—”

The wave of bitterness that swept through him was so intense that it took all of his years of training to maintain his calm facade. “I am here for a brief visit, nothing more. There is nothing about Sherae that interests me.”

Marious opened his mouth but he must have read Rastrath’s expression. Instead of speaking, he bowed his head and stepped back a pace to follow quietly in his wake.

The spaceship was docked on one of the smaller islands surrounding the palace island. Given that Sherae was predominately a water planet, flat land was in short supply. The landing site had been carved from the natural coral that made up the many islands, and as they crossed the bridge toward it, he admired how his great-grandfather’s architect had inserted it so naturally amongst the lacy pink spires.

The Ceekat slave trader was pacing back and forth in front of the lowered landing ramp. As soon as he saw them, he hurried over. “I really must protest this delay. I have already informed you that the human is not for…” His words died out as he recognized Rastrath. He immediately plastered an ingratiating smile on his face, rubbed his hands together, and bowed. “Please forgive me, Your Highness. I did not realize that we were halted at your request.”

“An order from my servants is the same as an order from me,” he said coolly. “Where is the human slave?”

The Ceekat rubbed his hands again and cast a nervous glance back at his ship. “I apologize, Your Highness, but she is really not for sale.”

“Why not?”

After another look at his ship, he acknowledged reluctantly. “She is with young. By a Derian.”

“The humans are breeding compatible with other species?” He didn’t let his face reflect his shock, but now he understood the trader’s reticence. Beings able to mate outside their species were comparatively rare and considered highly valuable. “I wish to see her.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” With a resigned sigh, the trader accepted the inevitable and led the way onto the ship. Rastrath followed, glad to see that the conditions on board were basic but appeared clean and well-managed. Slavery was an economic force within the Empire but there was a vast difference between a reputable dealer such as this one and the more unsavory types that were only after a quick profit. They proceeded through several rows of neat white cells, most of them empty, until they stopped before an occupied one. A small figure lay on the bunk, her back to them.

“Get up, girl,” the trader ordered.

There was no immediate response and the man shot an apologetic glance at Rastrath. “I had to remove the collar to avoid harm to the young.”

He nodded, studying the still figure. The white slave gown barely covered lush curves that, even from this distance, had his cock stirring. Conscious that only the thin silk robe covered his body, he turned his attention to the trader.

“How long have you had her?”

“A little over a month. Her previous owner did not realize that she was with young when he purchased her. Apparently, the side effects are a little…unpleasant.” He tittered and Rastrath had to suppress a sudden impulse to slap the smirk from his face. When Rastrath didn’t respond, the trader cleared his throat and continued. “I saw it as an investment. I will be able to sell her again, once she has given birth, and the child will fetch a high price, as a curiosity if nothing else. Imagine a cross between a Derian and another species!”

“You are sure that the Derian is the father?”

“Yes, it is quite clear from the chain of custody on her title.”

“You’re going to sell my child?” The words were a low hiss and they both startled as the female appeared at the bars. Rastrath was struck speechless as he got his first real look at her. Even obviously ill, she was beautiful—a pale face with creamy skin drawn tight over an exquisite bone structure, huge dark eyes fringed by long dark lashes, and a ripe, generous mouth, currently drawn up in an angry snarl. The harsh lighting struck sparks of red in a mane of long dark hair.

Despite the fragile delicacy of her face, her body was unbelievably lush, full breasts straining at the thin gown over the gentle swell of her stomach. An electric pulse of arousal went through his horns and his cock immediately went to full mast. He shifted uncomfortably, aware that it was clearly visible beneath his robe. Normally he wouldn’t care, but here it seemed…inappropriate. Her eyes flicked down, widened, and then fastened on his with a fierce determination.

“If you buy me and let me keep my child, I’ll do anything you want.”

“You’ll do your master’s bidding, no matter who he is,” the trader blustered, but they both ignored him.

“Anything?” he asked, trying for a mocking tone but even he could hear the underlying hunger. He wanted this female with a completely unexpected intensity. “You would do that for your child?”

“Yes,” she said with no hesitation. A mixture of bitterness and longing swept over him. His own mother had certainly never been willing to sacrifice anything on his behalf. He gave one brief jerk of his head and her body sagged against the bars with relief.

“Your Highness—”

“How much?”

“You understand that you would essentially be purchasing two slaves?” The trader apparently realized that his protests were futile and switched to bargaining mode. “Both extremely valuable specimens.”

“Name your price.” He didn’t take his eyes off the female.

The man’s smile broadened, and he named an amount which made Marious give an audible gasp.

“Done.” His mother might not have done anything else for him, but she had left him a large fortune. A fortune which he had more than tripled through his own efforts.

The man’s initial delighted smile was followed by a frown as he obviously realized that he could have gotten much more for the woman, but he gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. I will bring the paperwork.”

“My steward will take care of it. Open the cell.”

Still frowning, the trader used the control pad on his belt to open the bars. Rastrath held out his hand, and the woman hesitated. “Come with me, pet.”

With another look at his face, she stepped forward and placed her hand in his. As she did, her body trembled, and she swayed. With a muffled oath, he caught her and swept her up into his arms before turning to the trader. “When was the last time you fed her?”

The look on his face must have conveyed his anger, because the man’s natural orange coloring faced to a sickly yellow. “We follow the Imperial protocols,” he protested weakly. “She is presented with food on a regular basis. I can’t help it if she doesn’t eat.”

The body in his arms jerked and he looked down to see that she was still conscious, her eyes angry. “Did he feed you, pet?”

“Yes. But it’s always the same things and I can’t keep any of them down.”

“They are standard rations, Your Highness. Nutritionally complete for her body type.”

“I don’t believe anything that cannot be ingested would be considered nutritionally complete,” he said scathingly. “Did you consult your medic?”

Another flinch from the body in his arms and rage swept over him. “Never mind. I will have my own medic examine her and if I find she has been damaged, I will expect a refund.”

Small fingers clutched his arm and despite his anger, he attempted to give her a reassuring smile. It must not have been successful because she bit her lip and tightened her grasp. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said soothingly before glaring at the trader. “But I am quite within my rights not to pay full price for damaged merchandise. As you well know.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the trader muttered.

“Marious, take care of the paperwork and arrange for the ship’s departure.”

Without another glance at the Ceekat trader or his worried steward, he headed back to the palace, his new purchase cradled safely in his arms.

Deb peeped up through her lashes at the alien carrying her so carefully. The combination of red skin, black horns at each temple, and arched black brows gave him an uncomfortable resemblance to traditional images of the devil, but her experiences over the last horrible months had given her little reason to put stock in appearances. The trader was a round little alien with orange skin and comically exaggerated features, but she had quickly learned that his harmless appearance concealed a ruthless businessman. Until today she hadn’t realized just how ruthless, but she supposed she should have guessed that he intended to take her child. She shivered and the man carrying her looked down.

“Are you cold?” His eyes traced approvingly over her curves, lingering on the tight buds of her nipples and she shivered again. “I will provide you with more suitable clothing.”

“I’ll bet,” she muttered, but apparently his ears were sharper than she had expected, and he frowned. She barely kept herself from cringing, already anticipating a slap, or worse. Instead, he only asked, “Do you doubt me?”

Was he serious? Her anger threatened to break through as she thought back over the outfits—or lack thereof—to which she’d been subjected. Her first master preferred her naked or bound in leather harnesses which dug into her skin harshly enough to leave bruises. The second one covered her in jeweled creations that were as uncomfortable as they probably were expensive. The current white shift was at least soft, although far too skimpy for her rapidly expanding figure. She wanted to yell at him, but she had made a bargain—and she couldn’t be sure that the slave ship had left yet—so she kept her voice even. “Let’s just say that my owners’ idea of suitable has not been mine.”

“I see.” The frown didn’t vanish, and she couldn’t help tensing but he didn’t say anything else, just kept walking. It was curiously soothing to be carried, his tall figure carrying her pregnant weight with no apparent strain, his fingers not digging cruelly into any part of her body. His skin had a fresh scent that reminded of the ocean and she could feel his muscles flexing as he moved. For a second, she almost relaxed into his grip, but then her memories from the past six months came rushing back and she dismissed such foolishness.

Determined to ignore him for as long as possible, she turned her head to survey her new prison and her jaw dropped. They were crossing over an arched bridge of lacy pink stone. Ahead of her was an island covered with buildings composed of the same pink stone, all climbing upward to what appeared to be one unified complex. Airy spires and arches accented the buildings, while flowering shrubs and vines spilled from every available surface. The whole island was surrounded by a calm turquoise sea. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

Eagerly taking in every detail, she barely noticed that they were at end of the bridge until they passed a small stall selling something fried. As soon as the aroma hit her, her stomach convulsed, and the ever-present nausea surfaced. “Put me down,” she demanded, pushing frantically at the arms enclosing her. Too concerned with her heaving stomach to be surprised when he actually obeyed her, she immediately bent over and lost the miniscule contents of her stomach. When the retching finally stopped, she was shocked to realize that her new owner was supporting her, even pulling back her hair with one hand. Her first owner would have shoved her face in the mess and the second one would have been as far away as possible.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, and immediately resented the fact that she had felt obliged to do so.

“Did the trader cause this?”

It was such an unexpected question that she almost laughed. “No. This little one is to blame.” Her hand went to her stomach, a small smile twisting her lips. “But it’s not her fault.”

“Her? You are having a female child?”

“How would I know?” She bit back another wave of resentment and patted her stomach. “Today she feels like a girl.”

“Is there a problem, Your Highness?” Your Highness? The man who had accompanied her new owner came rushing up. The two men were very different, the new one only slightly taller than her, his wiry body covered with pale gold skin accented with darker yellow markings. What appeared to be small fins flared on each side of his face, emphasizing bulbous blue eyes that blinked anxiously at her companion.

“Yes. My slave is ill. Bring me water and a towel from the custra stand, then find Doctor Mako and tell him to attend me in my rooms.”

“Yes, Prince Rastrath.” The little man scurried off.

“Prince Rastrath?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that your name?”

“Yes. What is yours?” The unexpected question sent tears rushing to her eyes and he almost looked...alarmed? “What’s wrong?”

“You’re the only person who has bothered to ask me that.”

He frowned. “What were you called?”

“Female. Human. Bitch. Slut. Worthless.” A tremor shook her voice, despite her attempt to remain emotionless. “My name is Debra Morgan.” She bit her lip as memories rushed over her. “But everyone used to call me Deb.”

“Here.” The little man had returned, and the prince handed her an odd shaped bottle of water and a small pink towel. “Cleanse yourself, Deb. Then I will take you to my quarters.”