WereSlave (Were Legends, Book One)

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stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of
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An Excerpt From: WERESLAVE

Copyright © LIA SLATER, 2009

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.

Chapter
One

In
a faraway land

Six
years after the great war between Werewolf and Human

Nothing
was settled.

His intense gaze from across the crowded, rancid dungeon
sent a strange shudder down Nayla´s back. Why he
stared at her so heatedly, she had no clue. He was her prisoner, a
subordinate. Many like him filled the room, but most lowered their eyes,
evading her scrutiny. Most of those remaining didn´t have the energy to
make the effort.

But the one with the blue eyes that shimmered from between
the caked-on dirt and god-knows-what didn´t even bother to blink when she
looked his way. And she did so now, with curiosity...and a tinge of fear.

Her awareness of him couldn´t be helped. He was a
peculiar one, somewhat larger and apparently bolder than the rest of the
werewolf pack her guards had captured just a month ago.

Was he their leader? Were they organized enough to have
a leader?

She cocked her head as she moved toward him, stepping
over the remains of some poor rodent that had dared enter the dungeon. The
rat had probably been a nice treat for the beasts. She pushed the thought
from her mind and tried to ignore the muffled groans and labored breathing
surrounding her. Her stomach churned but she refused to give them any of
her pity. A species that had proven to be dangerous and unpredictable
wouldn´t get mercy from her. It was best for the people of her kingdom to
keep these savages shackled and...human. If you could call them that. And she
didn´t. Wouldn´t.

They needed moonlight to change into their animal state
and they certainly weren´t getting that in this dungeon. No, here they
would remain until starvation or dehydration took them.

Or until her guards made an example of them in front of
the town´s people.

She stopped in front of the blue-eyed Were and met his
gaze. His body shook like the rest of them but instead of lying feebly on
the floor, he sat up on his knees. His broad, muscled shoulders were
straight and his strong chin jutted toward her. Pride? Was it pride she
sensed?

Couldn´t be. Weres were
savages in any state. They had two sides: kill or be killed. Sink their
teeth into an innocent human or run away with their tails between their
legs. She knew firsthand just how brutal they could be.

How could this one be any different?

"Do you not realize you´re about to die?" she asked him,
half hoping he wouldn´t answer. Lord only knew if he had enough wits to
form an intelligible response.

"Not..." He cleared his throat, causing himself to cough.
"Not today, my lady." His voice was startlingly deep. The heady masculine
tone stirred something in her belly and sent a surprising surge of warmth
and yearning through her womb and inner thighs.

She sucked in her stomach and straightened her posture,
frustrated and confused by her physical response. "No? How do you know
this?"

His gaze swept down her body and back up again. "Because
you don´t look like a killer to me, my lady."

She laughed, but even to herself, she sounded stilted.
Unsure of herself. Damn. Would she ever stop feeling like an imposter in her
own skin?Stop it, Nayla. She pursed her lips and quickly reminded herself
that her insecurities were unwarranted. She´d done something good here. A Were pack was captured and her kingdom was safe for
another day.

She met her captive´s forceful gaze, unwavering under
its heat. "That´s because I´m not a killer. You are. That´s why you´re
here..." She let her words drift off, realizing too late she´d been looking
for a name to call the beast.

"Mace Quinton." His husky voice echoed against the stone
walls. "Call me Mace. And I´m not a killer, my lady. You´ve got that
wrong."

"I´ll call you whatever I please."

He blinked once and his enormous body swayed, proving to
her no matter his level of strength, he was still vulnerable. And at her
command. She´d need to remember that and her reason for visiting this
dungeon.

She had to choose one of these beasts as her WereSlave. Her lover. All of her predecessors had
followed this same path and she refused to be the first to break the
tradition, although the thought of a Were touching her intimately had
churned her stomach up to this point.

"Would you like this one, my Queen?" her loyal guard,
Saul, asked over her shoulder.

"Queen?" the prisoner murmured. "You´re the Queen?"

Nayla ignored his question.
She had a difficult enough time proving to her people that she was capable
of running a country. Why should she have to explain her age to a Were?
Besides, she wasn´t a child. She was a grown woman of twenty-five years.

Old enough to protect her people from these vicious,
volatile creatures. They deserved to be in this dungeon, dying a painful
death.

And this one-she looked into the Were´s
vibrant blue eyes-this one deserved to be used by her. Just like the Queens
before her, she´d acquire a WereSlave to soothe
her sexual needs and help ease the loneliness.

As the chosen Queen, she would dedicate her life solely
to the country and its people. Doing so meant she´d obey Paqualette law and not take a husband. The people
expected their Queen to offer a life of devotion and extreme discipline. Nayla wouldn´t debate the law that had served her
country for centuries.

There were gray areas between the black and white lines
of the Palequette decrees, though. No, she
couldn´t have a husband, or even a human lover. But owning and using a WereSlave was a Queen´s right. Much like wearing the
finest gems or living in the largest castle.

A WereSlave was for the
purpose of her pleasure alone.

Pleasure from a Were? She let her gaze fall over the prisoner
who kneeled in front of her. Although his naked body was covered in filth,
she could still make out the strong set of his jaw and the cool, attractive
color of his eyes. She noticed the toned muscles on his chest, arms and
stomach. Curiosity had her looking down farther to his long, thick cock
hanging impressively between his powerful thighs.

She hated that her skin heated and the area between her
thighs grew moist. But an attraction was necessary if she was to share a
bed with him.

This Were was a pleasing sight
in his human form, no doubt. She hadn´t thought she´d find one amongst the
mongrels who wouldn´t nauseate her, let alone make her quiver with
anticipation.

"Do you like what you see, my Queen?" he asked as his
body swayed again.

Weak. He was very weak. Good.

"Do not speak unless I ask it of you."

He needed to learn his place if he were to be hers. She
didn´t know how this meeting was supposed to go, or how the Queens before
her had chosen their WereSlaves. She only knew
that the Were before her piqued her interest on so many levels, enough to
want to touch him. Unable to help herself, she leaned forward to glide a
finger down his angular jaw. But he jerked away from her and lost his
balance, falling back onto his rear.

Hmm... So he wasn´t as powerful as he made himself seem.

Masculine but vulnerable.

He´d be perfect.

"Yes, I´d like to take him." Nayla
pointed at her new WereSlave and looked over her
shoulder at Saul. "Please clean him, feed him and then secure him in the
transition cell."

"Yes, my Queen."

The Were rose up to his knees
again. "Where do you think to take me?"

She couldn´t help but smile. "Don´t worry, slave. Just
as you´d guessed, you won´t be dying today."

* * * * *

Nayla rushed through her
obligatory dinner with the visiting duke and duchess, holding back a
grimace each time they reached for each other´s hands or leaned in for an
affectionate kiss.

She´d never have the love of a husband or children and
no matter how often she´d told herself it didn´t matter, that her position
as the Queen was so much more important, she still felt the sting of
loneliness. She would live this life on her own.

The Queen before her had left her notes, stating the use
of a WereSlave would alleviate some of her
weariness. Nayla doubted it. She certainly wasn´t
expecting miracles. After all, he was merely an animal. Sure, he could
speak and he looked and seemed human but he was nothing more than a
barbarian.

One that undoubtedly needed to be tamed.

She said her goodbyes to the Duke and Duchess and then
anxiously took the castle stairs up to the transition cell. Once outside
the door, she adjusted her silk dress and combed her fingers through her
disobedient curls.

Why do you care what you look like, Nayla?

She clamped down the nervousness growing in her chest.
Who was she trying to impress anyway? He was her property, not her
companion.

This was his punishment, not his reward. She wasn´t to
treat him as an equal.

Holding her head high, she pushed open the heavy wooden
door and stepped inside. Five of her guards surrounded a bed where a large
naked man lay shackled. Each chain was bolted securely to either the brick
wall or floor.

Saul stepped in front of her, blocking her view before
she had a chance to see how well the WereSlave
cleaned up. "My Queen." He bowed. "He´s been washed and fed, as you
requested."

"Why so many of you?" Nayla
asked, her cheeks warming as she realized her guards were more than aware
of the point of all this.

To satisfy their Queen´s sexual urges.

But she refused to show her embarrassment. Not when it
had taken her four years to gain their respect.

Saul cleared his throat. "He put up quite a fight, my
Queen. I´m afraid we had to use force to get him to settle."

"A fight?" She peeked over Saul´s shoulder and noticed
blood trickling from the Were´s nose and a cut on
his cheek. His eyes were swollen and bruises and contusions covered his
naked body. "Oh, my. What´ve you done to him?"

Nayla pushed passed the guards
and stood over the bed. The WereSlave´s breathing
was even, at least. And he looked so much different now that he was clean.

Like a man.

Strong, feral, masculine. Muscles curved along his arms,
chest and legs. They rippled along his stomach. She leaned closer. He
smelled like a mixture of blood, soap and something she couldn´t pinpoint.
Something animalistic, but not in the way she´d thought.

Not in the way she´d remembered.

This Were´s scent was musky
and alluring. Seductive. She wanted to reach out and rake her fingers
through his long, raven hair as it spread out over the white sheets. But
even in his sleep his tanned, athletic body flexed with warning.

She licked her lips and let herself fantasize how he
would feel on top of her, pumping inside of her as she spread her legs for
him. He was hers to do with what she wanted. The mere thought of it forced
a wave of heat up her chest to her neck. This glorious man belonged to her.
Man? No, he was a Were. A beast. She would have to remind herself of that.

"He should be fine, my Queen," Saul said from behind
her.

"What?" Her voice cracked as she spun around to face the
guards. "Oh, yes. I´ll see to it his wounds are taken care of. But now that
he is the property of the Queen, I ask that you treat him gingerly." Right
as she said the words, she wished them back. What was she saying?

An echo of chuckles filled the room. Even her loyal Saul
couldn´t hold back a smile. "Yes, my Queen, we will try."

"Do you find something funny?" she asked them, annoyed
with their lack of decorum.

They each shook their heads no.

"Good. You´re dismissed."

"My Queen." Saul stepped toward her as the other guards
shuffled out of the room. "I´m afraid I can´t allow you to be alone with
him just yet. He hasn´t been tamed. The guards who washed and brought him
here are in the infirmary as a result."

"My God. Are they all right?" Instant guilt consumed
her. She hadn´t thought of anyone being hurt by this.

"They´ll heal. I only wish for you to take precaution.
The chains give him enough slack to, well, to complete his purpose but I
fear he may have enough leeway to harm you. As your majesty´s chief guard,
I must object. Your safety is my main concern."

If she hadn´t respected Saul´s opinion, she´d have been
offended by his candor. The man had been her devotee since the day she´d
walked into this castle. Though he´d been acting strangely since she´d
ordered the trespassing Weres to be captured and
imprisoned.

She watched him closely, noting his reddened cheeks and
the light perspiration on his forehead. Then decided to forgive his
frankness, thinking he must truly be concerned for her wellbeing. "Thank
you, Saul. I´ll be fine. You can go now."

"Yes, my Queen. Just know that I´ll be right outside the
door if you need me." He turned on his heel to leave but changed his mind
and faced her again. "You, uh, you don´t have to do this, you know. With
your past and all. People would understand if you decided not to take a WereSlave. A Vampire would also-"

"No." God, she did not want to discuss this with Saul or
anyone else. Her memories were her own and she wanted to keep them locked
hidden in the back of her mind, where she didn´t have to think of them.
"Enough, Saul. While I appreciate your concern for my safety, my word is
final and not open to debate. There will be no further discussion about
this matter."

"Yes, my Queen." The middle-aged man nodded and exited
the room.

Nayla drew out a breath and
turned toward the bed. Excitement and anxiety and that annoying tinge of
fear sat heavy in her stomach. First things first, his wounds needed to be
cleaned.

The maids had left a washcloth and a basin filled with
water on the bureau, so she grabbed the cloth, soaked it and wrung it out.
She sat on the mattress next to him, probably too close, but she needed to
be able to examine his wounds. She took in the sizeable length of his body
and was surprised to see the cuts and bruises begin to heal before her very
eyes. He stirred again and a growl rumbled in his chest.

"It´s all right," she whispered, desperately trying to
ignore the terror burning her eyes and making her woozy. Yes, he was a
dangerous creature, but he would need to learn to trust and obey her if
this was to work. When he realized it was either her or decapitation, she
was sure he´d make the right choice. She could only hope he was intelligent
enough to be reasonable.

And to not harm her.

With a trembling hand, she gently wiped the blood caked
under his strong nose and on his lips. She curved the damp cloth over each
lip, outlining the ridges of his mouth as it rounded slightly fuller at the
bottom. Then she angled it along his cut jawline,
clean-shaven as she´d requested.

His skin was warm, almost hot, as she ran the cloth down
his neck to his broad shoulder, over his muscled chest.

He was a gorgeous man. It was difficult to keep thinking
of him as a killer. But just as she thought this, the slack chain attached
to his arm rattled and he grabbed her wrist, his large calloused hands
firmly holding her in place.

She gasped and tried to lurch from his grasp and out of
his reach, but he was too quick and powerful. He gripped her waist with
both hands and pulled her to the bed. Too fast for her eyes to follow, he
pinned her on her back with the weight of his body. Once there, he easily
held her wrists with one of his hands above her head. The loose chains were
useless.

A scream lodged in her throat as he looked down at her,
his lips only centimeters from hers as his long locks of black hair
encompassed her face. She should have struggled but fear paralyzed her. Her
breath halted as she stared dumbly up at him.

How stupid was she for sitting too near him, allowing
him to capture her.

"What were you doing?" he growled and strengthened the
hold on her wrists.

"I...I was cleaning your wounds." Nayla
wondered how long he´d been awake, lying there and allowing her to run that
washcloth over his body.

"You mean the wounds your men caused?" His sapphire eyes
gleamed as a wicked smile twitched at his lips. "They told me I would be
your slave." He moved against her body, pressing his cock into the valley
between her thighs. "I´m no one´s slave, my Queen."

"Then you choose death? Those are your two choices." Her
voice came out as a whisper, making her threat useless. Her body shook with
anger, fear and curious desire all at once. She´d never responded to a man
like this before. Equal parts of her brain wanted to kick him and taste his
tongue in her mouth. Feel his shaft slide deep inside of her or scream
bloody murder as she fled from the room.

His solid cock wedged harder against her thigh and she
swallowed.

"Where are your protectors now?" He dropped his mouth to
her ear and his hot breath rushed against her cheek, prickling her skin.
"Are they so foolish, to leave their fragile Queen alone with a monster?"

"It was my choice to be alone with you." She kept her
voice soft, a small attempt to show him how being
her WereSlave wouldn´t be such an agonizing task.
She could be an enticing partner even if she was his master. If he found
her attractive, that was. "What would you do with me?" she dared ask.

A husky chuckle rumbled into her ear. "You´ve imprisoned
my pack and reduced us to dogs. I should throttle your thin neck until
you´re breathless."

"If I so much as let out a yelp
your pack will be put to immediate death by decapitation." The only way
they could die besides starvation and dehydration.

"Damn you," he growled. "Damn all of you."

"I don´t wish you to die, Mace." She used his name to
soothe him but it felt odd leaving her lips. As if she´d said it a million
times before. "I only wish your company." Slowly she caressed his calf with
her foot, gently running it along the solid muscle.

The first time wouldn´t be so bad. Oddly enough, she
wanted him. A Were. The same sort of creature who´d made her life a living
nightmare. But she wanted him because he was hers. No matter that he was on
top of her, pinning her down, she had the power. She was in control of his
destiny, not the other way around.

He lifted off her and looked down with narrowed eyes.
"My company? You wish..." Realization dawned on his face.

So he wasn´t an imbecile. No, he wasn´t that at all.