Warrior Prince Read online

  Table of Contents

  Warrior Prince

  Copyright

  Praise for Nancy J. Cohen

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  GLOSSARY

  A word about the author...

  WARRIOR ROGUE

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Warrior Prince

  The Drift Lords Series, Book 1

  by

  Nancy J. Cohen

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Warrior Prince: The Drift Lords Series, Book 1

  COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Nancy J. Cohen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Faery Rose Edition, 2012

  Print ISBN 978-1-61217-357-3

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-358-0

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Nancy J. Cohen

  Nancy's first book, CIRCLE OF LIGHT, won the HOLT Medallion Award. SILVER SERENADE, her fifteenth title, won Best Book in Romantic Science Fiction/Fantasy at The Romance Reviews.

  ~*~

  Praise for SILVER SERENADE:

  “From start to finish, SILVER SERENADE throws an action packed thrill ride. It's fun and adventurous, and left me begging for more!”

  ~Siren Book Reviews

  “Get ready for an epic adventure, as vast as the universe in which it is set! With a touching love story, a great blend of humor, action and passion, and a great cast of characters, this is a book that won't let you go until the very last page.”

  ~The Romance Reviews

  “SILVER SERENADE is a smashing good combination of two genres: romance and science fiction.…The author draws a fascinating world of intergalactic politics, futuristic technologies, and clashing moral priorities.”

  ~Fort Myers Magazine

  “Ms. Cohen has not only given her readers a fabulous new world, but also a fantastic new galaxy to explore. This fantasy erotic romance has a strong, sexy hero and an even stronger, sexier heroine…Fans of Nathan Fillion and Firefly are sure to enjoy this futuristic romantic fantasy.”

  ~Coffee Time Romance

  “An urgent quest to save humanity leads to surprising adventures and dangerous passion. Nancy J. Cohen has penned a wild ride that will leave readers breathless and eager for more!”

  ~Allison Chase, author

  Chapter One

  “Hi, I’m Nira Larsen, here for an interview,” she told the receptionist, whose solemn stare and black attire would have suited the funeral home she’d visited earlier.

  “Please be seated until you are summoned.” The woman’s blunt-cut dark hair swung as she pressed a button on her console to announce Nira’s arrival.

  Nira glanced at the small waiting area with its threadbare carpet, row of vinyl seats, and musty odor. Why was no one else here? And why did this place appear so seedy, with peeling paint and grime-coated windows? Maybe she didn’t want to work for people who treated their applicants with such disrespect.

  Nonetheless, she’d like to land a position at Drift World. On her budget, she couldn’t afford a ticket to the role-playing adult theme park, but getting a job there would solve that problem. Plus she needed the money for other reasons.

  She took a seat, an odd buzzing in her ears. It had started when she walked into the place. But even weirder had been the way the theme park’s temporary employment office appeared to materialize out of thin air.

  The address specified on the classified ad had taken her next to a popular cafe on Orlando’s International Drive. Maybe she was just tired after her last two disastrous interviews, but she could have sworn this log cabin hadn’t been in the parking lot when she’d arrived.

  Her thoughts scattered when the inner door burst open, and an attractive blonde smiled at her. “Come in, Miss Larsen. My name is Algie Morar. I understand you’re applying for a position as a makeup artist?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  Nira followed her into a corridor marked by closed doors on either side. At the far end, the hallway opened into a large room from which low male voices rumbled in a strange guttural tongue. A curtain made of fabric strips obstructed the view.

  The woman halted and opened a door, gesturing silently for Nira to enter. But instead of facing a desk and chairs as she expected for an interview, she spied a treatment table, a sink, and a console like in a doctor’s office. A supply of cosmetics laid spread out on the counter: brushes, eye pencils, powders, and other familiar tools.

  “Wait here.” Algie turned on her heel and left Nira alone. A moment later, she returned with a burly man in tow.

  Nira’s mouth fell open. The stocky fellow had oversized ears, a long bulbous nose, and abnormally large hands and feet. His small beady eyes glared at her from beneath bushy brows. He wore a workman’s clothes, stained trousers and a plaid shirt.

  “Jek is a test subject to see if you suit us for employment.” Algie’s brow wrinkled. “See if you can make him look more normal.”

  Nira stifled a nervous cough. Aren’t those huge cauliflower ears prosthetics? “Uh, I’m not sure I—”

  “Just use those makeup supplies.” Algie pointed to the counter. “Shadowing, for example, can de-emphasize certain features. You’ll know what to do.”

  The blonde sauntered closer. Her porcelain features were so refined, she could have been a model. She leaned inward, her ocean blue eyes shining brightly, her rosy lips parting as though about to confide a secret. Nira couldn’t drag her gaze away. Her nostrils picked up a floral scent that held her spellbound.

  It seemed so natural when Algie placed a palm on her arm like an old friend.

  No. Nira sprang back, the buzzing sound in her head increasing to painful decibels.

  Algie’s eyes blazed. “How are you resisting me?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, just do as I said. Fix Jek to look more human.”

  Human? She shook her head. That annoying buzzing sound must be affecting her brain.

  However, it didn’t affect her instincts. An inner voice hammered at her to leave. She backed awa
y, but at a simple nod from Algie, the door slammed shut from an invisible force.

  “You’re not going anywhere until I find out how you’re blocking me. Jek, seize her.”

  The big man’s beefy hand clamped onto her arm.

  “Let me go.” Nira fought to elbow him in the gut, but his strength overwhelmed her. He hauled her toward the treatment table. “Stop, or I’ll scream.” Panic laced her voice.

  The woman’s sinister chuckle chilled her blood. “Go ahead. No one will hear you.”

  The brute thrust Nira against the hard metal table and pressed her in place with his thighs.

  “You’re different.” Algie’s smooth tone belied the enmity in her eyes. “You can block my spell. We haven’t met any humans like you before. It could be a danger to us.”

  Nira swallowed against rising alarm. These people must belong to some cult. Get out while you can.

  She stomped on Jek’s instep, hoping to dislodge his grip. He merely chuckled and dumped her supine on the table. When he reached for restraints, she screamed.

  “Help! Someone help me!”

  Jek had secured one wrist in a leather strap when a crash sounded from outside in the corridor, followed by shouts and loud blasts. The door burst open, and black-clad masked figures poured inside. They aimed weapons at Algie, who repelled their fire by dodging aside in a blur of speed and then vanishing. Air rushed by Nira’s ear. Then Jek was gone as well, leaving her at the mercy of these formidable men.

  They stood in a huddle, murmuring in low voices. One of the terrorists slid his gaze her way and pointed.

  “I’ll take care of the woman,” he said in a commanding tone. “Algie and her troops have probably vectored out by now, but search the place anyway and see what you can find.” As the others scrambled to obey, he strode over to where Nira lay helpless on the table.

  Wriggling against the strap holding her down, she cursed when it wouldn’t give way. Now what? Was she a prize to be claimed by their leader? She cringed when he stroked her cheek.

  “Who are you, little one?” His gentle tone surprised her. “And how did you resist the Confounding?”

  “Untie me.” She attempted to twist away, but he gripped her shoulder, holding her down. Flat on her back, she gazed into his intense turquoise eyes. She couldn’t see the rest of his face, hidden behind a hooded mask that covered his head. He smelled like pine trees and peat smoke. Calm trickled through her, quieting the buzz in her mind.

  Strange that she didn’t abhor this man’s touch as she had Jek’s. Far from it. She squirmed under his scrutiny, aware that her situation wasn’t much better and yet she felt no fear. The stranger in black continued to study her, his eyes narrowed as though he contemplated a decision.

  Banging noises sounded from outside as his men searched the building as per his orders. A single lightbulb glared overhead, casting the room into a surreal light. Dust motes floated in the air.

  “I will release you, but you must come with us.”

  Ice water sluiced through her veins. She didn’t want to go anywhere with these fierce looking men. “Look, I won’t tell anyone what’s happened here if you let me go home.”

  “I understand you are frightened. Be assured no further harm will come to you.” He spoke soothingly, as though to a child. “I promise to keep you safe.”

  “Please, just set me free.” She hated the way her voice quavered.

  “How about if we make a deal? My men and I will take you home, but then you must listen to my proposal. We could use your help.”

  She nodded, having every intention of bolting for the door when on her feet. As he untied the strap around her wrist, tingling warmth raced along her nerves. Before she could jerk away, his strong hands grasped her by the waist and lifted her off the table.

  Standing, she rubbed her arms, grateful for her mobility. Her glance skittered toward the exit. Unfortunately, the stranger obstructed her route. His tall physique overpowered the room.

  “What’s your name?” Maybe she could gain his sympathy.

  “I am Zohar Thorald. Let us leave this place before the displacement field reactivates.” While the man spoke in a soft tone, his authority brooked no arguments.

  Whatever that means. He must be a foreigner, judging from his stiff manner of speech.

  He stalked into the hallway, calling for his comrades to follow. Nira trailed after him, frustrated when she still couldn’t reach the main entrance. As if reinforcing her plight, Zohar snagged her elbow while he addressed his men.

  “Find anything?”

  “It’s too late,” one guy answered. “They must have taken anything of value before we arrived. It’s almost as though they expected us.”

  The wall shimmered, and Nira blinked.

  “Everyone outside.” Zohar yanked on her arm, dragging her into the anteroom and out the front door. Daylight pierced her vision.

  “My sunglasses. I left my purse in there. Let me go.”

  She twisted sideways but couldn’t break his grip. No way would she leave her Coach bag behind. It had been the first designer item she could afford, even if she’d bought it at the outlet store.

  Zohar nodded to one of his men, who detached from the group and raced inside. He reappeared in the doorway and leapt onto the pavement just as the entire structure faded before her eyes.

  “Okay, that wasn’t real. I must be hallucinating.” Nira accepted her bag from the man who’d retrieved it.

  “No hallucination. You were nearly ensnared.” Zohar prodded her toward a parked white van. “This is why you need our protection. Secure her.” He handed her off to another masked man before heading toward the driver’s seat.

  “I have my own car. I can meet you wherever we’re going.” Nira thought it worth a try.

  Zohar whipped around. “Give your keys to Kaj. He will follow us.”

  “I don’t think so. Hey, what are you doing?”

  One of the men flashed a pair of stormy gray eyes as he snatched her purse. He fished inside until he found her key ring. Tossing the bag back, he strode toward her vehicle as though it emitted a beacon. Along the way, he ripped off his mask. She got a glimpse of unruly wheat hair, even features, and a taut jaw before he turned his back on them.

  “All right, how did he know that’s my car?” She held her ground, refusing to budge.

  “Your signals are strong, little one. You left your essence on your automobile. Even we are not immune.”

  Zohar tore off his hood, making her inhale sharply. If kidnappers competed for looks, he could win a spot in GQ.

  Deep set turquoise eyes sat under emphatic brows and above a straight, aquiline nose. A firm mouth spoke of a man who set himself high standards, his upper lip a bit narrower than its fuller bottom. He wore his dark brown hair swept back over a regal forehead like Captain Kirk on the original Star Trek show, although his was a bit tussled from the mask.

  He grinned, transforming his stern expression into one of devilish amusement. An answering coil of warmth rolled through her.

  Okay, get a grip. You’re trapped with four hunky guys who could easily overpower you, and you have no notion of their true intentions. She had to give them credit for rescuing her, though. Maybe they were undercover agents working with some federal agency on a drug bust case.

  “Can we take off our masks, rageesh?” another man asked in a respectful tone.

  Zohar shrugged. “Why not? The lady is one of us now. Tell me where you wish to go.” His deep voice flowed over her like warm honey.

  The police station, big guy. Unfortunately, she didn’t know where one was located on International Drive.

  She gave him her address while the rest of his men tore off their disguises. Crammed inside the second row of the van between two hulks, Nira clutched her precious handbag.

  When her friend and mentor, Grace Miller, saw Nira trooping in with a gang of men, she’d probably call the cops herself.

  Nira hoped so. Now that she was free to pursue he
r research, she didn’t want anything to interfere.

  Her glance dropped to her wristwatch. She’d received the timepiece from her mother as a gift while her mother rested on her deathbed, along with a confession that Nira had been adopted. This keepsake, left by her biological parents, remained the only clue to her true identity. It ran with no visible mechanism and no battery.

  Once Nira discovered the inscription on its face was runic lettering, she became fascinated with Norse legends. She studied comparative mythology in grad school, hoping to teach after she’d earned her doctorate degree. In the meantime, she’d meant to trace her origins but lacked the funding to carry out her plans. So far, she wasn’t having much luck finding a summer job.

  She couldn’t worry about that now. First she had to get away from these men.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the curb in front of Grace’s house. As the driver of Nira’s car joined them outside, the elder lady meandered into the yard. She wore a silk blouse and slacks with not a hair out of place on her teased gray head.

  Nira’s heart swelled with affection. Grace was a kindly neighbor who’d offered support when her mother died six years ago. After raising her two younger sisters, Nira had moved into Grace’s house to save money. While the arrangement suited them both, Nira yearned for freedom, not to mention a measure of privacy. This was another reason why she wanted a job, to afford her own apartment. It would mean leaving Grace alone, though, and the eighty-two-year-old woman became frailer each year.

  “Nira, what happened? I didn’t expect you back so early.” Grace peered at Nira’s companions. For her advanced age, her eyesight was still fairly sharp. “Who are your friends?”

  The one with rangy black hair and a beard spoke up. “We are…cousins.”

  “Really?” Grace propped her hands on her slim hips. “I didn’t know you had any relatives besides your sisters, dear.”

  “No, I, uh—”

  Zohar strode to Nira’s side and spoke in an undertone. “If you need credits, I am prepared to offer you a job.”

  “Say again?” Leaning forward, Grace cupped her ear.

  Nira shot Zohar an inquiring glance. She’d ask him what his remark meant later. In the meantime, she raised her voice so Grace could hear.