The Dracons' Woman: Book 1 of the Soul-Linked Saga

  The Dracons’ Woman

  Book One of the Soul-Linked Saga

  by

  Laura Jo Phillips

  DEDICATION

  For my husband. Thank you for having an imagination as big as mine, and spending so many hours talking about a fantasy world with fantasy people and fantasy rules. I never could have done this, and had so much fun doing it, without you.

  For Mom, Grandma, and Great-Grandma---Thank you all for the creativity you passed along to me, as well as the heart to do something with it. There is a little bit of each of you in these books, just as there is a little bit of each of you in me.

  Visit the home of the Soul-Linked Saga online at:

  www.laurajophillips.com

  or email Laura Jo at:

  laurajophillips.books@gmail.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Kathleen Honsinger

  Cover art/design Copyright © 2011 by Kathleen Honsinger

  All rights reserved.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek of

  The Lobos’ HeartSong

  Special Bonus!

  Turn to the back of this book for Chapter 1 of

  The Lobos’ HeartSong

  Book Two of the Soul-Linked Saga

  by

  Laura Jo Phillips

  Available Christmas 2011

  Chapter

  1

  Lariah Daniels huddled in her seat near the back of the shuttle, watching as the other passengers prepared to disembark. The majority of her fellow travelers were young women contracted to be brides on Jasan. One of the reasons she had selected Jasan as her destination was the scarcity of women on the planet, and the high regard in which women were held as a result. Another reason was that she had dreamed of visiting Jasan since seeing images of it as a child. There was something about the wide-open plains of blue grass, the lavender skies and gigantic fresh water lakes set against a backdrop of enormous white rock mountain ranges that had appealed to her, even then. The planet seemed to her to be a pastel dream of earth, water and sky, evoking a feeling of cleanliness, peace and simplicity that touched something deep inside of her.

  Sighing softly, she listened to the excited chatter of the young women as they gathered their bags, smoothed their clothing, checked their makeup and fussed with their hair before lining up in the aisle, waiting to step off the shuttle and embark on their new lives as treasured wives. She was honest enough with herself to admit that she envied them. The beauty of Jasan had captured the imagination of the child she had been, but it was what she’d learned of its inhabitants as an adult that had captured the fantasies of the woman she now was. Just thinking of it had her squeezing her thighs tightly together.

  “Stop it,” she admonished herself silently. “That’s not why you’re here, so just forget it.” Unfortunately, thinking of why she wasn’t here reminded her why she was here. That was a memory that made her shudder and hunch her shoulders, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. For a long moment she couldn’t breathe as unwelcome images and sensations crashed through her mind.

  Lariah closed her eyes and forced herself to relax her shoulders and breathe deeply. There was nothing to be afraid of here, she told herself. Nobody knew where she had gone except the Director himself, and he had promised her that the information would remain classified indefinitely. No one would ever suspect that she would willingly choose to flee to Jasan. Although she had always had an interest in the planet, she had never shared that interest with anyone. Even the Director had expressed surprise when, upon being offered her choice of destinations within the Thousand Worlds, she had chosen the rural, low-tech planet of Jasan. And he was a man who never showed what he thought of anything. Well, almost never.

  She jerked her attention back to the present. She would NOT think about that. Not now. She opened her eyes and focused on the dwindling line of young brides as they made their way toward the exit. They reminded her of images she had once seen of a flock of butterflies and it suddenly occurred to her how different she was from them. They were all dressed in brightly colored, high fashion clothing: short skirts, tight slacks, high heels, their hair and lips and eyes shining in the dim overhead lights as they talked and gestured and laughed with unrestrained, nervous excitement.

  In contrast, Lariah herself was dressed simply in jeans and a long sleeved white top, her clothes a couple of sizes too large for her slender frame. She understood why the brides were decked out as they were, but she thought they were a bit overdone for Jasan. After all, it was a planet known for raising the best livestock in the galaxy, and its simple, almost backward, culture. From what Lariah had read, life on Jasan was styled much like the 19th century Old West of North America on Earth. That was actually one of the things that appealed most to her about the planet. As a historical librarian she had her pick of reading material, and 21st century romance novels set in the Old West had always been her favorite.

  There were only a few passengers left on the shuttle when Lariah finally took a deep breath and stood up. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair with a little grimace and slipped her arms into her jacket. She had no idea what the weather was like outside but, until she found out, it was easier to wear the jacket than carry it. She opened the locker next to her seat and removed the single canvas tote bag that contained all she had left in the universe, bent to retrieve her handbag, and made her way up the aisle to the end of the line.

  Suddenly, Lariah felt the blood drain from her face as her entire body tensed with fear. She looked around frantically, searching for the cause of her unreasoning terror, but saw only the nearly empty shuttle cabin, two women ahead of her still waiting to disembark, and one of the stewards moving slowly up the aisle, checking the empty seats for forgotten belongings. She had experienced just such a feeling only once before, the memory of what had happened afterward causing her body to shudder violently. The inexplicable fear was swept away before the overwhelming horror of the memories that mercilessly flooded her mind.

  “I will not think of this,” she told herself firmly. “Not now. Not ever again.” She held her breath as she waited for the waking nightmare to fade. Her heart was pounding so hard she pressed her palm to her chest, her other hand gripping the handles of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “Are you alright Miss?”

  Lariah looked up into the concerned eyes of the shuttle steward. She made a fleeting effort to smile, but quickly gave up. “I’m fine,” she said, wincing inwardly at the breathless sound of her own voice, wondering again if her full voice would ever return to her, or if she would have to get used to sounding whispery for the rest of her life.

  “Perhaps you should sit down for a few moments,” he suggested. “We won’t be taking on passengers for the next launch for a while yet, so there is no hurry.”

  This time Lariah was able to offer the man a small, but genuine smile. “Thank you,” she said, appreciating the kindness more than she could say. “I just had a bad moment, but I’m fine now.”

  The steward looked i
nto her eyes for a second. “Very well,” he said. “However, there is a med-station in the spaceport. It’s not big, but it is well equipped. It’s just to your left as you enter the main hub. Even if you just need a place to rest and get your bearings, they will be happy to accommodate you.”

  Lariah blinked in surprise. Her journey from Earth to Jasan had taken her over a month—exactly 39 days of transport pods, warp ships and short range planet shuttles. While none of the various stewards, officers and crew had ever been less than polite, this man’s sincere concern was a definite first.

  “May I ask you a question?” Lariah asked.

  The steward nodded. “Certainly.”

  “Do you live on Jasan?” she asked.

  The steward grinned, an open expression of genuine warmth. “Yes, Miss,” he replied. “I do have that privilege. And, as a citizen of Jasan, I welcome you and hope that you find our world to your liking.”

  Lariah couldn’t help but return the man’s smile. “Thank you,” she replied sincerely, “for the welcome, and the kindness.”

  The steward nodded his head deeply, almost a bow, and swept his arm toward the exit. Grateful that her heartbeat had returned to normal, Lariah tightened her grip on her bag again and, feeling more optimistic than she had in months, stepped off the shuttle and onto Jasan at long last.

  Barc Landon was feeling twitchy. His supervisor had already caught him standing around watching passengers disembark once today, and two other times over the past week. He really didn’t want to lose his job. It had taken him longer than he’d thought possible to reach his current rank of Class 3 Security Officer on this backward, end of the galaxy planet, but it was an easy job in a quiet port with fair pay. Better than the job were the “fringe” benefits of being stationed on a planet with such a shortage of women. The oh-so-secret interstellar traffic in kidnapped off-world females was his real reason for being on Jasan, and it was more profitable than his wildest dreams. All he had to do was turn his head now and then when certain cargo holds were emptied. Even better than the money, (which was very good indeed) were the occasional opportunities to sample the charms of some unlucky female before she was whisked away to begin her new life as a sex slave. Of course, he got to sample only those who were so difficult that they pissed off their handlers, but he didn’t mind that at all. In fact, he preferred it. If a female got them irritated enough, they not only let him be as rough as he wanted, they encouraged him. Just thinking about it made him hard as he allowed his concentration to wander for a few moments.

  A brief flash of a black uniform out of the corner of his eye brought Barc’s focus back with a jerk. He breathed a sigh of relief when he identified the black uniform of a maintenance tech, not his supervisor, but he took a step back into the communications alcove anyway. He could not afford to get caught out of his area again today. As a single human male, and non-citizen, his security job was the only reason he was permitted to live on the planet. If he lost the job, he’d be transported out of the system so fast he might not even have time to arrange transfers of his secret bank accounts. He could do it off planet, but that might bring a bit more attention to them than he would like. After all, why would a lowly Class 3 Security Officer with Inter-System Transport Lines have so much money? If he transferred the money directly, it would be a lot safer.

  Barc’s twitchiness increased ten-fold and he broke into a cold sweat as he thought about the loss of all of his money. He almost gave it up and walked away. Almost. Reason saved him from such a foolish act at the last moment. If the woman he was supposed to be watching for got by him, it wouldn’t matter how much money he had stashed. He would never live long enough to spend a single credit of it. Barc shuddered at the thought. By the time he saw his target step off the shuttle, Barc had worked himself into a state of nervous desperation that was impossible to hide. He didn’t even try.

  Garen Dracon watched through the view-port as the sleek, private shuttle carrying his parents lifted slowly off the ground, hovered for a moment, and then suddenly shot into the sky in a blaze of silver light. He clenched his jaw tightly to prevent a sigh from escaping, and turned to his younger brothers.

  Treyen, the middle brother, had the same expression on his face as Garen knew was on his own. Jaw clenched tight, shoulders stiff, eyes filled with a sadness that most would never notice behind the otherwise stern expression. Valen, the youngest of the three, was the only one who didn’t bother trying to hide his feelings at their parents’ departure. His face was just as stern as his brothers’, but he didn’t hold his sigh in.

  “It sure was nice having a woman about the place for a change, even if she is our mother,” he said softly.

  “Yes, it was,” Trey agreed. “I just wish she hadn’t been so sad for us the whole time they were here.”

  Garen knew his brothers were waiting for him to say something, but the conversation he felt coming was not one he wanted to have. He slapped his black Stetson against his denim clad thigh, put it on his head and turned away from the view-port.

  “Let’s go,” he said shortly. His brothers fell into step alongside of him, Trey on his left, Val on his right, each half a pace behind him, a formation bred so deep into their bones that none of them gave it a thought. Even here, in this high-tech spaceport filled with travelers from a dozen systems all around them, even after centuries of living as ranchers on Jasan and blending in with the human and humanoid populations, the three brothers looked, moved and thought as warriors. That was something they could never change, and wouldn’t even if they could.

  The trio collected more than a few stares as they stalked through the spaceport; stares they didn’t appear to notice. Over six and a half feet tall each, the three brothers were nearly identical triplets. They had strong, masculine faces with square jaws, bold noses and high cheekbones. Their skin was deeply tanned, with a cinnamon tint to it, reminiscent of the Native Americans of Earth, or the Tisla of Sheara 5. The only differences between the three were the color of their eyes, and a minor difference in height. Garen, as first-born, was the tallest of the three with golden eyes. Trey, three minutes younger, was an inch shorter, with blue-green eyes. Val, the youngest by another three minutes, was yet another inch shorter than Trey with eyes the deep gray of a stormy sky. All three men had long blue-black hair held back with a leather thong and dark, slashing eyebrows that made them appear stern even when they weren’t. They all wore jeans, boots and cowboy hats suited to the work they did, and white t-shirts that hugged their broad, muscular chests and shoulders.

  The spaceport was laid out like a wheel with a central hub and dozens of hallways running out from it like spokes. Many of the spokes ended in a passenger lounge, then a gate which opened to a shuttle landing pad. As the brothers walked toward the main hub which would lead them toward the exit on the far side of the spaceport, they had to slow their pace a bit to weave their way through the groups of people coming and going.

  Val cleared his throat, warning Garen he was about to start the conversation he didn’t want to have.

  “Gregal suggested that maybe it was time we gave up the search,” he began. In spite of the underlying emotion in his voice, his eyes remained as sharp as his brothers’, none of them relaxing their vigilance as they moved through the crowds.

  Garen sighed quietly, but didn’t respond or slow his pace.

  “Leonal and Benal said the same to me,” Trey added. “We’ve waited so long, and Mom wants grandchildren. They said she gets her hopes up each year before Enclave that when they arrive, we will have a wife for her to meet. And each year she is disappointed. I hate seeing her so sad.”

  Garen kept walking as they reached the end of the spoke and entered the busier hub. He knew what their fathers had said. He had been told the same thing by all three of them. The truth was, he had thought about it himself more times than he cared to admit in the past few years. Did they think he wasn’t tired of being lonely? That the long years of waiting had not worn on him as much as i
t had on them?

  “Garen…” Val began, but Garen suddenly stopped and turned to face his brothers.

  “Is that really what the two of you want?” he asked softly. He stared into each of their faces for long moments, measuring the depth of their desire and frustration.

  Val dropped his eyes first, but flashed them back up at once. “Yes and no,” he replied finally. “We want our true Arima, Garen, you know that. But you know as well as we do that the chances of that happening are about 12 billion to one at last check. It has not happened for over three thousand years.”

  Garen arched an eyebrow at his youngest brother. Val shrugged. “I know you are as aware of the statistics as I am. But damn, Garen, how long are we going to wait?”

  “Aren’t you tired of dreaming Garen?” Trey put in. “I am. Watching everyone we know take wives and have families makes it harder, especially knowing that we could have it for ourselves. Right now if we want.”

  Garen nodded. “Yes, we could,” he agreed. “We could take a wife, a human woman like our mother, and have male children like everyone else. There is nothing wrong with that. I revere our own mother as you do. But do you really want to do that, knowing that we, of all of our people, have a chance to find our Arima?”

  “Perhaps a chance,” Trey corrected stubbornly. “Many believe that the hope of the prophecy died with our brothers.”

  Garen was aware of that. There were times when he too doubted. “We agreed to wait,” he said.

  “Yes, we did,” Val replied, “and we have waited. For centuries. Will we wait forever?”

  Garen shook his head. “I believe that we will find her,” he said quietly. “I believe that she exists, or will exist, and that we will find her if we wait long enough. What if we take a wife, and then we find her? What then?”