Warlord Read online

  Warlord (Mine To Take 1)

  Jacquelyn Frank

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2017 Jacquelyn Frank

  BIN: 08302-02681

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Margaret Riley

  Cover Artist: Angela Knight

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Table of Contents

  Warlord (Mine To Take 1)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Jacquelyn Frank

  Warlord (Mine To Take 1)

  Jacquelyn Frank

  Valerian is brother to the vicious warlord Vicktor, who destroys and dominates in every land he conquers and with every slave he captures. Valerian is made of a different stripe. While he is dominant, there is balance to his view of the world and how he treats others. This is readily apparent when his brother offers him a rare gift, a defiant slave of surpassing beauty and a spirit begging to be reined in.

  Melena Ni Coro despises her captor. She fears her brother has been killed by the man who now holds her leash, and she wants him to know she would rather die than be tamed by him. She is prepared to fight him every step of the way. Yet in spite of her hatred, Valerian begins to tear away at Melena’s defiance and anger. He teaches her there is much more to life and passion than she might think. All he asks is that she remains true to herself and honest with him. Together they will learn there is more pleasure to be found in each other than either of them realizes.

  Chapter One

  “Vicktor,” Valerian said firmly. “We need to talk.”

  Vicktor had been doing an excellent job of ignoring his brother… despite the fact Valerian was standing right in front of him. But now it appeared Vicktor had little choice but to acknowledge him. “Why are you irritating me, Valerian? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Valerian’s lips turned up in a cynical little smile that was not lost on Vicktor. “I thought you might want to manage some business in the outer territories.”

  “Isn’t this what I have you for? You are my general, after all. Why are you even here in the fortress? Should you not be out there managing my acquisitions?”

  “I was. But now I am here. I need to discuss some things with you. I need instructions on how you wish me to proceed with --”

  “Can you not figure these things out for yourself? Are you so inept? Perhaps I should have someone else in charge of my armies in the outer territories!”

  Valerian seemed unmoved by the insult and the threat, which only got under Vicktor’s skin all the more. Anyone else would be cowering and offering effusive apologies. But not his brother. Never his brother.

  “So you are saying all decisions regarding the outer territories are solely my own? You do not wish to be consulted in any way?” Valerian asked.

  “No, that is not what I mean. Only that you can communicate with me through my vizier. You do not and should not be here to report to me in person. The travel time back to the outer territories is such that anything can happen in your absence.”

  “I have many trusted lieutenants caring for things in my absence. Men you and I have both agreed upon. We don’t agree on much, but we have agreed on their competence.”

  “Perhaps they are so competent I no longer need you.”

  “In which case I will have nothing to do but lurk about the fortress. And we both know how much you enjoy my company,” Valerian said dryly.

  Vicktor’s temper boiled. Valerian always had a reply to anything Vicktor said that was guaranteed to irk him. It occurred to Vicktor he could simply assassinate his brother and be done with him, but Valerian was his only heir and he would not see the dynasty he had worked so hard to build crumble into obscure dust. He wanted to go down in history as the greatest conqueror who ever lived… and he wanted his legacy to live on long after he died. “Very well. You’re here now so you might as well get on with it.”

  “The eastern plains are now ours to do with as we please. The king of the Moglus has handed his surrender to me.”

  “You mean to me,” Vicktor said darkly.

  “Of course,” Valerian said, with another of his sardonic smiles. Those smiles annoyed Vicktor. They bordered on condescension. On insolence. “The Moglu people are notoriously savage fighters and to wrest their lands from them is an impressive victory. There remain clusters of rebels, but we will soon have them under control.”

  “See you do. Rebels can cause many problems.”

  “They become folk heroes to the people and encourage them to fight against us. Yes, I know. We will set them down quickly, I assure you.” Valerian paused for what seemed like a dramatic moment. “I have brought new slaves from the Moglu people to grace both our harems. Yours more than mine,” Valerian was quick to assure him. “You may have your pick of them.”

  “When?” Vicktor demanded. “I want one now. I want a Moglu slave. Bring the selection before me. I will have my pick and then you may choose from what remains, Brother.”

  “As you wish. Bring forth the slaves!” Valerian called to two soldiers waiting by one of the four sets of grand double doors leading into the throne room. The doors opened and a male eunuch led a string of straggly-looking slaves, both male and female, into the throne room. There were twenty in all. Vicktor knew the males were for his tastes. Valerian did not partake of the sexual favors of men. A true sign of his closed-mindedness. There was pleasure to be had from all quarters. Especially in the domination of a male the likes of a Moglu warrior.

  These warriors stood proud and angry in their bonds and Vicktor grew hard at the thought of forcing them to his will. The women were also proud and defiant. There wasn’t a weak one among them. He would pick the most defiant of their ranks and bring them all to heel. Nothing would give him more pleasure.

  Suddenly he had something to look forward to and this excited him. He even looked on his brother more favorably. This gift of spoils would not be immediately forgotten.

  Vicktor stood up and walked along the line of slaves presented before him.

  “Yes, yes. Very nice,” Vicktor said as he eyed the merchandise. “I am most pleased, my brother. This is worthy of a reward.”

  One of Valerian’s eyebrows lifted. And no wonder. It was unprecedented that Vicktor should reward anyone. He was not one for compliments or praise of any kind. But he was in a very good mood now. The male slaves were
beyond good.

  The females came in second. “I will let you have first pick,” Vicktor said magnanimously. He spoke with confidence, knowing Valerian would not choose any of his coveted males. “The first one,” he stressed. One was enough. Not that Valerian was one to increase his harem by much. His brother seemed satisfied with an incredibly small harem. There was something wrong with that, in Vicktor’s opinion.

  Valerian did not question Vicktor’s generosity. He simply stepped forward. He did as his brother had done, slowly walking down the line of women and men. He walked back and stopped in front of a fair-skinned beauty. She looked a little worse for wear, having been carted from her distant lands, but it was very possible she would be quite promising. Vicktor frowned, regretting his generosity. Valerian would pick her. He knew he would. She was just the sort of thing both men liked. Her strong will and her beauty would appeal and delight.

  “This one,” Valerian said, predictably. He reached out and touched two fingers beneath the girl’s chin. She jerked her head away and glared at Vicktor’s brother. Then she shot her head forward and spat in Valerian’s face.

  Vicktor laughed as his brother dabbed away the spittle with his fingers. “Perhaps you have bitten off too much, brother. Let me take her off your hands.”

  “No. I thank you. She will do fine for me.” He turned to one of the guards. “Remove her from the line.”

  They disconnected the slave from all the others and handed her lead rope to Valerian.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, brother,” Valerian said to Vicktor, “I will take my prize away. The rest are for your pleasure.”

  “What, all? You want no others?”

  “No. This one will do.”

  Vicktor shook his head. He would never understand his brother. Well, fine. If he wanted to spend his time with only one of the slaves that was his business. All the more for him. And he wanted more. He reveled in more.

  Valerian left the room and Vicktor turned back to his spoils.

  “Now. Who will be first?” he asked.

  * * *

  She trailing behind her captor, resisting his lead, but he kept a firm hold on her and brought her along. She was forced to move forward or be dragged. She wisely chose the former. But he did not jerk her around like the guards and other handlers. His lead was much more considerate as he led her into an antechamber and crossed the great expanse. Several men fell into step beside him.

  “Valerian, how did you fare with your brother, our emperor?” the taller one asked.

  “As expected, Frere,” her captor replied. “Hankon, have there been any reports from the Eastern front?”

  “Several are waiting in your working chamber. Are you headed there now?”

  “No. I have other business I would like to attend to first. There is nothing too pressing?”

  “No. Nothing pressing at all. We are easily maintaining our border there and are routing out the Moglu rebels quickly. Their ringleader, a man named Grulon, has evaded us for now, but we will have him soon. We are backing him into a trap.”

  Melena stumbled and gasped and Valerian looked back at her.

  “What is the matter, my little blonde dove?” Valerian asked. “Upset to hear your hero will soon be vanquished?”

  “Grulon will rout out the lot of you,” she growled defiantly.

  “I highly doubt that,” Frere said with a snort of laughter. “Perhaps you will learn how determined we are at your master’s hand,” he added.

  “I could say the same in return! I will never give in to you!”

  “Never is a long time, Pet,” Valerian said softly. “You will expend a great deal of effort keeping me at bay, and it will take very little effort on my part to break you down. We will see who holds out the longest.”

  “I despise you!” she hissed, jerking back on the rope he led her by.

  * * *

  He turned more fully toward her and took a step in her direction. He wasn’t menacing so much as he was intimidating. As he drew closer, the slave girl began to tremble with pent up rage and fear. Despite all of her bravado, she was afraid of him. Afraid of what her future held. Afraid of her powerlessness. But he would teach her not to be afraid. “What is your name?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

  “Melena Ni Coro. Sister to Grulon Ni Coro! And my brother will have the best of you yet!”

  “I’ll be damned,” Frere said, his eyes widening. “She’s the rebel’s sister! We can use her to lure him out.”

  “No,” Valerian said softly. “We have other ways of finding him. She will better serve me here for now. We will reconsider if you haven’t caught him in a month’s time. I have other plans for Melena Ni Coro.”

  “Do not say my name in such a tone!” she spat at him. “I will defy your plans with my last breath!”

  “We shall see.”

  Valerian walked on again, his tug on her lead rope firm. She tried to strain back, but he was having none of it. He jerked her forward; the rope tied her hands together and so she was pulled forward by her arms. It was better, she supposed, than being tied by her throat as had been done to her early on in her captivity. It also made it easier to resist him. However, her strength was nothing to his. He was a battle-hardened warrior, the muscles of his body apparent through his clothing.

  He wore a loose shirt in the manner of his culture, with a vest that buttoned across his midsection tightly. Both were lined in tiny braids of gold, silken gold also woven into the fabric itself. She had never owned such a fine garment. She had only known rough cloth, the clothing of a farm girl. She was used to a hard toiling life. Her brother had gone off to be a soldier in the Moglu armies and had risen in the ranks, but a soldier’s pay was not enough to see them in fine clothing.

  They walked into a pair of floor to ceiling double doors inlaid with beaten gold. Two servants opened the doors for them, their muscles straining under the weight of the grand doors. These were the doors leading into the throne room, but now they were headed out of it and into a hallway. Valerian led her firmly down the corridor and they approached another set of doors. These were not so grand, nor so heavy. They were serviceable and ornately carved wood. There was a scene of a warrior in a chariot in the door. He was whipping a pair of stallions forward, his hair streaming behind him. It was not lost on her that the depiction resembled Valerian a great deal.

  “These are my private chambers,” he said to her as he pulled her into the large room. There was a fireplace in the room taking up nearly half of the wall on one side. Deeper in the room on the far wall were a bank of mullioned windows, light streaming in through colored glass. The tops of the windows were pictorial stained glass, more scenes of warriors and battles.

  The lower part of the windows was clear glass and looked out on a vista of ocean waters. The fortress was built backing onto a cliff, making its rear easily defended by the nothingness of the drop off. No one could possibly scale those cliffs… never mind launch an offensive from them. The rest of the fortress was surrounded by soaring walls. Nearly impossible to scale as well. Not to mention they were manned by soldiers of the first order all day and night.

  There was no entering the fortress and, she realized as she stared out at the water, no escaping. She was trapped there, prisoner to a man she despised. An enemy. If only her brother had known what had become of her.

  Then what? What would he do? Nothing. There was nothing he could do in the face of the emperor’s great army. It was hard enough being a rebel in his own lands. Lands where he had the advantage of knowing every hill and valley. But here, leagues and leagues away, he could never hope to rescue her. She was doomed. Doomed to remain this man’s prisoner for all time.

  A sense of defeat overwhelmed her, but she fought the dread off. If her brother could fight then so could she. She would not make things easy for him. She would spit in his face every chance she got until he got sick of wiping the spittle out of his eye.

  But then what would become of her? What would he d
o to her if he lost patience with her? Well it wouldn’t matter. If her brother could endure hardship then so could she. She must not be afraid.

  Valerian led her to an enormous bed, which was four times the size of her bed at home… the one she shared with both her sisters. She wondered what had become of them. They had been captured together, but separated shortly after. Her elder sister had been raped right before her eyes by a gang of soldiers. She would have met the same fate had she not confessed she was innocent of men. Her virgin status, as well as her beauty, made her ten times as valuable as a slave. She had not known what was worse, to be coveted for her untried state and her beauty, which would see her enslaved for her sexual favors, or the outright abuse her sister had suffered.

  She did not have to consider the question long. She had been fortunate to escape the rough manhandling of the soldiers. But that did not mean rape was not in her future. She suspected this man who held her captive was not going to keep her around just as a typical servant. He would want to bed her. She would have to suffer under his brutish and barbaric touch. But again, she would not make the situation easy for him.

  Perhaps if the opportunity presented itself to her she could emasculate him. She would have to hope for the best. She would no doubt have to endure the worst. Perhaps if she fought him she could somehow make herself unattractive to him. Make herself not worth the effort. Although, it was as he had said… it would take more effort on her part to fight him than it would for him to fight back. He had all of the power. She had none.

  Valerian drew her up to the bed, to one of the large posts. There was a metal ring embedded in the post and he tied her lead rope tightly to the ring. He turned to her, picking up her chin and making her look into his eyes.

  “Do not try to untie the rope. You will not like the consequences if you do. If you unbind the rope I can only assume punishment is what you want. If you wish to avoid punishment you need only leave the rope alone. Simple, yes?”