The Lady Prince (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  The Lady Prince

  Born into a society where women are possessions, Lyra refuses to become property to any man. She defies all odds and survives the trials for becoming a Lady Prince, a title that gives her the same rankings and privilege as a man. Intent on helping other women seek the same status, she often risks her life to give them freedom.

  On one fateful night, a betrayal puts her in the precarious position of losing her freedom and identity forever. Lyra has but one chance at hope, which lies in the hands of Daene, a handsome and notorious thief and whispered murderer.

  He has but one stipulation, which Lyra finds both rebellious and tempting…

  Sensuality Rating: SCORCHING

  Genre: Fantasy

  Length: 33,000 words

  THE LADY PRINCE

  Toni L. Meilleur

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK VERSION: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

  THE LADY PRINCE

  Copyright © 2008 by Toni L. Meilleur

  E-book ISBN: 1-60601-053-0

  First E-book Publication: June 2008

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  True mates challenge one another and grow together. They experience the world through the other’s eyes, and share the same passions. No matter what twists and turns happen in life, they always find each other again. You have enriched my life more than you know.

  I love you.

  Toni

  THE LADY PRINCE

  Toni L. Meilleur

  Copyright © 2008

  Chapter 1

  “Father, I won’t change my mind.” Lyra sniffed as she stuffed the hard bread into her satchel. “I’m sorry I can’t be Nateen.” Lyra pulled the rope on the satchel and flung it over her back.

  “You realize you can never come back here, Lyra!” her father bit out in anger. “You have shamed me and your mother. As far as we’re concerned, we have only one daughter now. Nateen.” Disgusted, he raked his gaze over her. “A Lady Prince! You can never—”

  “I know, Father. You’ve told me this before.” Lyra lowered her eyes. She would not allow her father to see her cry. “If this is the penalty I must pay to lead my own life, then so be it.” She stiffened her spine and forced herself to look into her angry, disappointed father’s eyes.

  “You– are– dead– to– me.” He turned and grabbed her mother by the arm before she could reach out to Lyra. “You have no sister, no father, and no mother. Don’t ever come here again!”

  “Mother!” Lyra cried out.

  “Mother!” Lyra bolted up, the word dying from her lips as the cool night air shook off the last of her dream. Each time she had the dream, the events were just as fresh as the day it happened. Lyra got up from her pallet and crouched in front of her dying fire. Idly, she tossed pieces of wood onto it. She had no time to dwell on dreams or the past. There were more pressing matters at hand.

  As her eyes adjusted to the firelight, she turned her gaze to the sleeping girls. She was their only hope. Lyra rose and began a perimeter check. She stretched her muscles groaning in relief at the sensation. Lyra was small for a woman. At five-foot-three, petite, and finely muscled, her size didn’t seem to matter in combat. She was as finely trained or better than any male warrior. She even probably had more scars than many of them. Lyra didn’t regret one.

  Those scars were the reason she had the freedom to live as she chose. She chose to live life, not to be someone’s possession. Lyra wanted to be treated as an equal, and she wanted to be loved, not bred like a horse. But what were the odds of a man loving what he couldn’t own? Everything was about possession to a man. Even their daughters were possessions, not people.

  She listened attentively for the slightest sound that was out of the ordinary. Her hand always hovering near the knife at her hip, she was ready to spring into action. As she began to make her way towards the deeper line of the woods, she felt the sensation of ice-cold insects crawling down her spine. She knew she was being watched. She had to figure out how many there were and where they hid. She hated opportunists.

  The dark hindered her vision, so Lyra did the one thing that most people wouldn’t do in her situation. She closed her eyes tight and let her senses take over. Her vision was nothing in the dark so relying on it was foolish. She had taken a mental note of the campground during the day and now relied solely on her senses and her memory. Her steps were even and sure. Then she heard it–easy breathing, meaning whomever it was, was quite sure of himself.

  His steps were almost inaudible. She only knew he was approaching because the night insects in a small pocket of the forest went suddenly quiet. He was behind her. With ease, she pulled her wicked blade from its sheath. It was soundless, the move perfection. Preparing herself to kill, Lyra took a deep calming breath.

  This foe was calm and calculating and could prove to be worthy. He didn’t rush in like most men, which signaled intelligence and control. This was a dangerous combination when dealing with a man. She knew it was a man on instinct alone. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade with familiarity. The moment she felt him ready to pounce, she turned and lunged.

  He reacted swiftly shifting his body weight to the left as she brought the knife up in line with his throat. The long blade nicked him lightly, and Lyra crooked her arm to elbow him in the cheek. Strong fingers grabbed the wrist with the knife, but Lyra used her elbow to jab him anyway before he could render her arm immobile. Her attacker stumbled back with a grunt. Before he could recover, Lyra executed a powerful kick to his abdomen. His hard abs absorbed the blow. Those strong fingers again captured her airborne foot and twisted. The move sent her spinning in the air.

  She ignored the sharp pain that radiated up her leg as she landed on the ground with a thud. The impact vibrated up her spine, but Lyra was quickly up with her knife poised for killing. Keeping her eye on him, she inched her way towards the fire. Fighters worth their salt fought on their own grounds. She needed to see this attacker. Size him up. Find his weakness. Kill him. Almost dutifully, he followed her. With each step she took to close the distance between them he countered. This dance continued until she was back on familiar territory-her campground. She now stood on one side of the fire as he was on the other. With the girls at a safe distance, there would be no distraction. She could take care of this annoyance quickly.

  “I’ve no tolerance for you,” she said arrogantly. “Get out of here while I am feeling generous.” Lyra looked at her attacker. He was extremely tall, his muscles well formed all over his body. Clad in form-fitting black clothing to blend into the night, he looked quite the predat
or. A curious-looking necklace that seemed to be missing a stone or gem hung from his neck. His jet black hair shone glossy in the soft light of the fire. But the ends of his hair were a wonderful display of yellow, orange, and red. It looked liked the tips of his hair were on fire. Coal black eyes seemed to mock her. Something in her belly clenched as she perused him.

  “You call not killing me generous?” A small grin played on his handsome face, causing a reaction that startled her. His eyes raked over her. The smile grew bigger.

  “I’ve no desire to exchange words with you. Now leave or die,” she said, emphasizing her ultimatum with a threatening gesture of the knife.

  “Ah, I do know you.” His voice drummed low and sensuous. He, too, slowly circled the fire.

  “Good, then you know I don’t piffle my time away with small talk.” She pointed toward the woods. “Have a goodnight.”

  “You’re the famed Lady Prince,” he said, watching her with keen interest. She stiffened and squinted at him. “I watched you the day you fought for your title. You were magnificent.” He bowed in respect. “I had no desire to harm you, Lady Prince, only to show you how vulnerable you and these women are out here all alone.” His hands made a wide, sweeping gesture. “I am humbly offering my services.” He smiled warmly at her.

  “I know you as well.” She took a step closer, the blade however stayed in position. Her eyes glistened with recognition. “You are the murderous thief Daene. I thought you’d be dead by now, your head hanging as a trophy on the wall of a lawkeeper.” She smirked. “I don’t need your protection.”

  “Are you sure of that?” He quirked his head to the side and seemed to study her for a moment.

  “As sure I am of the fact that I wouldn’t want to sleep in a pit of Barra serpents.”

  He moved quicker than any man she’d ever fought. Somehow, he’d jumped over the flames, and when he landed, he used one leg to sweep her legs out from under her. Lyra, surprised but seasoned, rolled and kicked out, preventing him from standing over her while she regained her footing.

  She felt it more that saw it. Despite the contact and the small sound of surprise coming from him, he managed to grab a hold of her ankle and pulled her toward him. Lyra used her other leg to kick at the strong wrist that supported the ironclad grip about her ankles. Small rocks bit into her exposed side as she slid toward him. With her hand still on her knife, she planted the knife into his forearm and ripped it out as soon as he stopped dragging her. He drew back. Lyra took the opportunity to smash her head into his face. He grunted in surprise and hesitated. He then used his body to lay her out flat on her back.

  Lyra twisted under him, feeling every ridge of muscle and sinew in his body. Warmth came over her as she struggled under his. Something hot zinged down into her belly between her legs, and she fought to get out from under him. Why she didn’t just stab him was beyond her, but it was too late. The knife was wrestled from her fingers and was flung too far out of reach. Lyra went completely still under him. His breathing was heavy in her ears, and she shivered at the warm breath against her neck.

  As soon as she stopped fighting, he relaxed, propping himself up on his elbows as looked down at her. He opened his mouth to say something when Lyra crooked her leg up for leverage, and with her hips, she threw him off. Surprised, he rolled over. Lyra jumped up immediately and kicked him in the side and any place she could land a kick. She was pissed. He’d gotten the better of her.

  The victor, however, did another amazing move too fast for her brain to comprehend, and he was on his feet—laughing. This pissed her off even more. “I’ve heard your hide is thick, perhaps this is the only reason you continue to breathe,” she hissed at him.

  Daene beamed as if she had paid him the greatest compliment. “So you really have heard of me.” He ignored the wounds she had given him.

  “Yes, and all the reports were quite negative. You and my brother were friends once.” Lyra picked up her knife, keeping a wary eye on him.

  “Yes, that’s true,” Daene replied wistfully. “How is Baxton?”

  “Dead. The night the rogue invasion happened, he was killed.” Lyra took a deep breath trying to steady her breath. Normally, she wouldn’t be winded from such a short exertion. He was affecting her in a very different way. “Everyone thought you had died as well. That is until we heard reports of your murders and thievery.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.” His eyes seemed to glisten against the light of the fire. “Keep in mind, Lady Prince, you can’t murder murderers.” Daene began to make his way slowly to the treeline. “It is called justice. It seems you don’t need my protection, this eve.” He bowed to her again.

  “It is called whatever makes you sleep at night,” Lyra responded, sheathing the blade. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Lady Prince.” Daene looked at her one last time before he disappeared.

  Lyra waited until he was gone before she took another deep breath. She looked down at her sheathed blade. Why hadn’t she killed him outright like she would have done anyone else? The moment his body was atop of hers flashed in her mind, and her cheeks burned with the memory. Lyra shook her head, trying to dislodge it. She had other things to worry about than some rogue murderer from her past. With too much energy running through her veins, Lyra decided to check on the girls and once and for all put the firm, hard body of Daene from her mind.

  * * * *

  Daene didn’t go far. She was far more beautiful than he remembered. Her body had filled out in soft, womanly curves, and she had an arrogance that he had only witnessed in self-assured men. She piqued his interest. Her short hair was cut almost as if she were a young boy. Her body was toned to perfection. She was used to physical exercise. Her skin was dark and beautiful. She wore earth-colored breeches of a man, and her top was nothing more than a vest that could probably fit a young boy. Amber eyes that looked almost feline stared at him with murderous intent. He had observed several battle scars. Her scent seemed to inebriate his senses. Her words, however, had brought back painful memories.

  He unsheathed his claws and climbed the tree swiftly. Settling on a thick limb he braced his back against the trunk, he glued his keen eyes on the fire below. He watched her look in on the other women then settle next to the fire again, taking the position for sleeping. Her words had brought back memories of a night he well remembered but tried to keep at the back of his mind.

  His lineage had been kept in layers of secrets. If the neighboring clans and her father had known what he and his family really were, they would have been run from their homes. Their land would have been seized their possessions burned. It was easy to recognize one of their own species. Three other families in the land were like them. Those traitorous clans with covetous eyes had betrayed his family’s trust. They had invaded the land, killing everyone in their path, to cover their true goal. He had not known his good friend had died that night. Soon after the invasion, Daene had started his quest for revenge. He had lost more than he thought that blood-filled night. But Daene was righting that wrong.

  He had one more man to make pay, and he would find what he had been looking for. He would restore what was taken from his family. His eyes drifted to the small form on the ground. He looked down at the cut she had inflicted in his arm and smiled. Within her small frame hid quite the capable fighter. The injury was almost healed, like the nick in his neck. He gave no more thought to the wounds.

  * * * *

  Sleep eluded him that night. Perched high in the tree, he kept going back to the lithe strong body that fought underneath him in his mind. He wanted her under him. Only he wanted her writhing in passion. When Daene closed his eyes, he could still smell her. Her eyes had been so fiery and defiant. Her blade had been wicked and sharp. She fascinated him. Unlike any woman he’d ever run into, she challenged him.

  Daene had been hoping she’d be a weak female who would have been grateful for his protection and willing to show him just how much. He should have been disappointed by
the turn of events, but curiously enough, he wasn’t. If he were any other man, he would continue and try to take advantage of the situation. Daene laughed to himself. He was any other man, and he fully intended on taking advantage of the situation. Lyra was, if nothing else, a challenge. Had he not been so caught up in the feuds of his clan, he would have gladly watched all her trials for freedom.

  Daene recalled the actions of the young woman. She had refused her father’s demands to be taken to Feznik’s Hostel to be made a bride. She had undertaken the challenge to prove that as a woman, she deserved the same rights of a man. The princess had indeed been successful at fulfilling the required tasks. She had survived on her own in the harsh winter woods for a year as part of the challenge. He had been there the day she had to defeat a crazed male prisoner with nothing but a blade.

  He had not witnessed the last task, but he had heard that, although barely escaping with her life, she had accomplished capturing the Barra Serpent. They were ugly and highly aggressive, and their poison was potent. One usually avoided entanglement with such a creature. He knew the last challenge was set to dissuade women from independence. It had been her last task. While capturing it, she had been bitten. Many believed she would not survive.

  Other strong-headed women had issued the challenge. They had either died or given up the quest. She was the first Lady Prince in four generations. She was free to live her life as she chose with the rights of a man. It did, however, come with a stipulation. She must fend for herself. Her family legally could no longer aid her. He also had heard the rumor that her father had disowned her.