Amber Kell - Dragonmen 1 - MATE HUNT

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Amber Kell - Dragonmen 1 - MATE HUNT, Dragonmen
 
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Dragonmen Book 1
Mate Hunt
Amber Kell
A Literary Road Press Publication
Literaryroad.com
6523 California Ave SW, #193
Seattle, WA 98136
ISBN: 978-1-934037-62-1
Copyright © 2009 Amber Kell
Cover design by RDF
Photos provided by Stock Exchange
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of
communication without author or publisher permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
With a spectacular flip through the air, Joriah Eprion landed behind his opponent and slammed his foot into the back of
the soldier’s knee, knocking him to the floor.
“Match.” The deep voice of the trainer rang through the arena. “Nice move, my prince.”
Jory gave the fallen man the traditional final bow before helping up his defeated adversary.
The other soldiers looked at him with varying expressions of respect and amusement. They were always fascinated
when he took them down with his shorter body and slighter frame. The very things that made him work harder.
Outside of the arena he was the fashionable Prince Joriah, youngest son of the High Galactic King. Inside the arena he
was just another soldier fighting. His men didn’t take it easy on him, and those of his honor guard wore his personal
emblem of three interlocking dragons with pride.
Luckily Jory’s half Talivvian blood made most injuries heal within minutes, giving him a fearsome reputation among
his men. They saw him as a man blessed by the gods. Jory saw it as a convenient way to not hobble from the arena after a
sound thrashing.
Jory bid his men goodbye and hit the showers. After bathing and redressing into nicer clothes, he left the arena wing
and was entering the great hall when the voice of his boyfriend stopped him in his tracks.
“Why do you waste your time training like a common foot soldier?” Peter’s voice was thick with disapproval. “You
could do so much more with your life. With our life.”
Joriah turned to examine his lover. Over the past few months he’d become less and less enamored of the pretty dark-
haired man. It was time to face facts. Peter was a self-centered, annoying prick.
“And what is it you think I should spend my time doing?” He considered himself an easy-going man, but his lover
was quickly depleting his famous patience.
Peter smiled.
He used to find that smile charming.
“You could start by picking up the reins of leadership and become your brother’s right hand man. You know your
father adores you and would give you any position in the government you wanted.”
Jory gave a shudder of distaste. Just the idea of a life trapped in politics was enough to make him want to slit his
wrists. Unfortunately, they would heal right back. At twenty-three Jory still didn’t know what he wanted to do when he
grew up and he wasn’t in any hurry to figure it out.
“Detrius does just fine with the help of my other siblings. He doesn’t need my assistance and besides I have no
interest in politics.”
“You lack ambition, Joriah. You split your days between playing with your swords and meeting with your tailor.”
Jory decided now wasn’t the moment to mention the fortune he’d diverted from his father’s funds to build hospitals
for poverty stricken cities. Or the complex pirating system he coordinated to thwart his uncle’s slave trade. His father
wasn’t a bad man; he just didn’t understand that some people needed the freedom to control their own lives. As a father
the man was a loving, kind patriarch who cared for his children, especially Joriah. But as a Galactic King his father was
dictatorial and ruthless.
“I’m not political,” he said mildly, “and I like to look good. What do you think of this shirt?” He held out a sleeve so
Peter could feel the texture.
Jory learned over the years that the public expected beautiful people to act a certain way and they rarely looked
beneath the surface.
A fact he used to good effect.
After all if he spent all morning sequestered with his tailor he couldn’t possibly be spending the afternoon plotting the
interception of his uncle’s slaver ships or the freedom of a certain planetary colony that ran afoul of his second cousin
Leon.
Peter rolled his eyes. His usual response when Jory started going on about his clothes.
“Beautiful clothing can’t hide a damaged character.” A disapproving voice said behind him.
“Captain Transen.” Jory turned, giving his father’s Captain of the Guard a respectful nod. He felt guilty over the rush
of relief he felt in getting out of another argument with his lover.
“What can I do for you?”
He knew it was a mistake to ask. The older man’s cool grey eyes looked him over neither approving nor disapproving
just cold. It was close, but he avoided shivering like a teenager caught in an illicit act.
“Your father’s looking for you, my prince.”
Jory shrugged. It wasn’t like he was hard to find. Avoiding his father was a fine combination of luck and being
unavailable in plain sight. Unfortunately, it looked like his luck just evaporated.
He flashed the captain his best smile. Mother always said try charm first. Of course it was followed by ‘if that doesn’t
work kick them in the balls’.
Mother was a brilliant source of insight. Some days he missed her so much it hurt.
“What does father want?”
Those glacial eyes warmed briefly. The captain wasn’t a bad man he just had a difficult job keeping an entire planet of
soldiers in check. It was rare that father used him as messenger boy. Of course Joriah usually charmed the little messenger
boys into forgetting they found him.
That wasn’t possible with the captain, which was probably why he was here doing a task way below his position.
“Come with me. He wants to break the news himself.”
“This would be a good time to talk to him about a greater leadership role.” Peter said in a low voice. Had his
boyfriend always been so oily or was he just now seeing his true colors? Disgust with his lover and a little guilt over his
father putting Transen on the spot, had Joriah following with only a brief nod to Peter.
Yep, that relationship was over.
They were halfway through the palace, walking side by side, when the captain spoke again.
“You could do much better than him, my Prince.”
Joriah almost broke stride. He’d always thought the captain didn’t approve of his relationships with men, now he had
to rethink that maybe it wasn’t men but his particular choices.
Jory sighed. “I know. No sex is good enough to put up with that amount of manipulation.”
For the first time in his memory Jory saw the captain laugh. Not a smirk or a half-smile but a full out ring-the-halls
laugh. A meaty hand slapped Jory on the back moving him forward a few paces.
“Now I
know
you’ve become a man.” The captain declared. The pride in Transen’s voice warmed Jory through. It was
rare that the older man ever declared his personal feelings.
They reached the dining hall. At his entrance the guards leapt to attention, backs going straight, knees locking into
proper position.
He could feel all eyes tracking his every movement as he made his way over to the royal table.
“My son.” High Galactic King Rufeus Eprion waved from his seat at the head table, his usual collection of political
sycophants surrounded him on both sides along with an amazing assortment of breakfast foods on the table before him.
Pastries, eggs and bits of the finest meats littered the surface.
At well over six feet the king dominated the room. It wasn’t just his body that overshadowed the other men at the
table, it was his presence. It was one of the reasons his men followed him damn near anywhere with a smile on their faces
and pride in their hearts.
“Leave us. I need a moment alone with my boy.” He barked, his jade eyes never leaving his son.
Jory stood still under his father’s scrutiny as the nobles fled. He always felt less in his father’s gaze. At barely five
feet nine inches with a sleek build he was a more masculine version of his mother and, unlike his half brothers and sisters,
resembled his father little. When they were all together it was like being the only greyhound in a room full of pitbulls. He
never doubted they could rip him apart in a feeding frenzy.
The king took a bite from the flaky pastry in his hand, his dark eyes watching his son like a bird of prey.
“What’s so important you sent the captain to find me?” He wasn’t going to play the king’s waiting game. Father was
up to something he could feel it in his bones.
“Sit down and have a bite.” The king waved at the bounty before him.
Unsettled, Jory grabbed a roll to nibble and sank into the padded seat across from his father; the better to watch his
opponent. It didn’t help that he had to look up at the man. He knew his mother had always been disappointed that he
hadn’t gained his father’s height but genetics could be an evil bitch.
He could see from the look in his father’s eyes that the king was plotting.
Sipping coffee from the cup a servant thoughtfully placed at his elbow, Joriah waited.
It didn’t take long.
“I’m sending you to Dragait. They’re having a mating festival. It will be a good opportunity for you to form an
alliance.”
Jory set his cup of coffee down with a thud. “You can’t just send me off to find a husband, father, I have
responsibilities.” There had to be something that required his immediate attention.
Wait a minute did he say Dragait? Joriah adored dragons. For years he’d dreamed of the flying beasts but never had
the chance to travel to their world. Normally the thought of going to a planet of dragon shifters would excite him. It was
the circumstances that sent chills down his spine.
The king’s green eyes went flat. “I can do whatever the hell I want or hadn’t you heard I am the head of this family.”
Jory put his palms over his eyes trying to rub away the tension headache he could feel building inside. Maybe if he
tried hard enough he could turn back time and find a way to escape this meeting. He had other abilities why not that one?
Of course flying would be great too then he could get the hell out of here.
Hopelessly he lifted his head and watched his father gloat. “I thought you decided I was useless politically?”
“Hah.” The king rubbed his hands together. “But that was before I learned there’s an entire group of noblemen who
go to this mating thing every year to search for mates. The dragon men would be powerful allies if I could get you married
to one.”
“I’m not some primped up prima donna waiting to catch the perfect husband. Why can’t I just keep living like I
have?”
The king laughed. “Joriah, even if you don’t meet your mate I expect better things from you. Your mother wanted you
to be happy and I don’t see that happening in the confining walls of this kingdom. I want you to go out and explore the
possibilities. You need to find your place in the universe, my son. And if it takes sending you to a dragon world and
kicking you out of the nest, than I will.”
Jory piled food on his plate searching for an exit route in his head. Who knew his father could put his love of men to
political use? Snagging a piece of ham with a vicious stab of his knife he sorted through ideas in his head and came up
blank. It was his goal in life to be a political liability, apparently there was no end to the ways he was failing in his
personal life.
“My place in the universe is to be prettied up and married off to some rich, titled bastard who’s going to want me to
fetch his slippers and rub his hairy feet? Pardon me if I don’t just jump at that offer.”
Subtle he wasn’t. He shoved a bite of eggs into his mouth and glared at his father.
The king leaned forward, propping his chin on one elegant hand. Bejeweled fingers flashed at Jory from across the
table. “Son, I hate to be the one to tell you, since you’re obviously in denial, but you’re already a pretty, pretty man. A
fact I put down to your beautiful mother, may the gods bless her soul. Do you know how many royal women I have
denied a political marriage for you?” In one of his famous shifts of emotion, Jory’s father slammed his hand down on the
table. “I have always had your best interests at heart.”
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