Ragnar: Dragon Lord of Wye

By Nancey Cummings

Sometimes you just need a break...
Ragnar needs some time away: no security, no women, just the quiet of space.
Holing up here seems like the best thing to do while he tries to figure out what to do.

Pretending to be a prince hasn't gotten him any closer to what he needs.

Then he sees her, like a dream out of some old dragon story. And he must have her. He must possess her before the mating fever overtakes him.

Sometimes you can't catch a break...
Priya's desperate.
She's got her wits and her spaceship, but how much good will that do her when her father can't stay out debt? Now the F*^% warlords have kidnapped her family, and it's only a matter of time before they collect what's due them.

Priya needs a paycheck. Fast.
When she finds he prince alone, she thinks it's her lucky day.
Turns out- he's just some lying fraud. And her last chance to save her family is gone. Poof.

But sometimes the enemy of your enemy…
Then Ragnar starts talking. As though he has some plan that might save her family.
He doesn't even want his freedom. That's the most unbelievable thing.

He said he wants her. ...Something about 'mates' and 'fever' and needing her to be his bride.
The guy is hot. Sizzling.
No wonder he's been through so many women, yet they keep on coming.
Priya can't trust him, can she? But the heat between them is setting her on fire.

Can she really trust -- let alone tame -- a dragon lord?

Standalone Story! Happily Ever After! No Cheating!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Oct 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094462509

Nancey Cummings

Nancey writes fun, fast and flirty scifi romances featuring feisty heroines and out-of-this-world heros. Nancey lives in an old house with her husband and two cats who have complaints with management. When she’s not writing, she enjoys video games, horror movies and anything involving time travel.

Book preview

1

PRIYA

This was a mistake.

The heavily armed security guard kept leering at Priya as if she was a meal he was dying to devour.

No, scratch that. Taking in the size of the overly-muscled males and the weapons they carried, she knew she was just a snack.

Sorry, kitten. Those are the terms. I’m not running a charity. Gracious leaned against the cargo crate, careful not to snag the fabric of his dark blue suit while still trying to appear cool and unconcerned. He buffed the back of his nails on his lapels. Deep red and black tattoos on his neck and hands bled through the creamy tan color of the light fuzz covering him. The Talmar male’s tail swished back and forth, lazily.

The crook. The smug, condescending crook.

My family—

His whiskers twitched at the desperation in her voice and his large triangular ears swiveled toward her. Your father knew the penalties when he agreed to the terms of the loan.

Penalties. Loans. Gracious could use financial terms all he liked but he remained a loan shark at the end. And Priya’s father had agreed to the terms. He knew the risk. But no one could have predicted the historic flooding that ravaged the Blackborn colony or the years of blight that followed. He had been desperate for the credit to keep the orchard afloat; desperate enough to do business with a crook like Gracious.

Her father, Hamish Barber, had been a fool to move the family to the cursed colony. And a greater fool for not being able to keep snow apples alive. Snow apples. Engineered to grow in poor soil, with no water, minimal light and extreme temperatures, the fruit grew without trouble wherever humanity settled.

Except in the Barber Orchards.

And because Blackborn was an independent colony, there existed no oversight on unscrupulous business practices, no protection from loan sharks or creditors who trapped an entire family into indentured servitude to work off a debt. There was no governing body to appeal the unjust debt of Hamish and Nora or their minor children, Nathaniel and Nisha; no one to fight for their freedom.

No one except Priya.

I’ll do anything, she said.

Anything? Gracious’ leering gaze swept over her body, lingering on her hips and bust. My harem could use some fresh blood.

With a shiver, Priya zipped up the front of her blue hooded jacket.

You shouldn’t put anything on the table if you’re not ready to deliver, he said, pushing off the crate. Shame. I like the feel of Terrans. So soft and smooth.

Her gaze fell to the bare concrete floor of the loading bay. She loved her family, wouldn’t rest until her mother, father and the twins were free, but she would not sell herself to do it. The thought of Gracious touching her made her stomach flip-flop. Not that. Anything else.

Hmm. I’m afraid all I’m interested in is credits. He quoted a figure that made her heart stop. One and a half million credits.

There’s no way my father owes that much, she sputtered. One and a half million. Hamish would have been insane to take out such a large loan.

Oh, Gracious said casually, the original amount was much more reasonable. Walk with me. He motioned for Priya to follow him. But when you add up the cost of late fees—and Hamish was perpetually late—, collection and administration fees and, of course, the cost of repossessing the farm and the debtors, I’m afraid the debt has increased substantially.

They’ll never be able to work that amount off, Priya said, thinking aloud.

Probably not. But the female is strong and pleasant enough to look at. She’d fetch a good price at auction. And the twins. Matched sets always do well with collectors…

No. Please. The Talmar male would make her beg. Not Nathaniel and Nisha. They were only twelve years old, far too young to be sold at auction, to a collector.

Only dumb luck kept Priya from being included in the family’s debt. She bought a second hand—more like third hand—old rust bucket of a ship and contracted out courier work. It was lonely work but she didn’t like people so much and enjoyed the quiet. She loved her family, of course, but they were loud and Priya had a hard time hearing herself think. On the Dashing Canard… She had all the peace and quiet she’d ever desire.

The Dashing Canard wasn’t much to look at but it was fast and had a small footprint, which kept docking fees to minimum. Fast, cheap and good enough to deliver small packages: exactly what she needed in a ship. What the ship didn’t eat up in fuel, maintenance and repairs, she dumped directly back into the orchard. She’d been out of the system on a delivery when Gracious’ crew arrived and took the Barber family into custody. Pure, dumb luck.

Because I like you, kitten, I’ll keep the whole set on my compound.

Hope sparked in her chest.

But not forever, Gracious cautioned. I’m a businessman.

Not a charity.

He nodded.

How do I know you still have them? I want to see my parents. And the twins. Priya crossed her arms over her chest, hoping it made her look tough and not like she was trying to hug herself. She relaxed her shoulders and dropped her hands to her hips. There. Tough.

Good, good. You’re much better at bargaining than your father. They are well cared for. I make no profit in injured merchandise.

The hair on the back of her head stood up as Gracious referred to her family as merchandise. I want to see them.

He nodded and snapped at a nearby henchman. In a matter of seconds, Nora Barber shuffled forward. She wore a shapeless blue jumpsuit and had more gray hair than Priya remembered.

Mom! Priya hugged her mother tightly. Nora felt as solid as ever. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and pretended that everything was copacetic. Are they feeding you? The twins? Dad?

Priya, sweetie, we’re fine. Don’t worry about us.

I’m going to get you out. Just wait.

With another snap, Nora was escorted away.

One point five million. How am I supposed to get that kind of credit? Priya kept her eyes fixed on Nora’s receding figure.

You’re a smart female. Figure it out.

Back on the Dashing Canard, Priya cleared the atmosphere and set the autopilot. The ship wasn’t much to look at and rattled alarmingly every time it entered the atmosphere, but it was hers. After the repossession of Barber Orchards, it was her only home. Narrow and tall, the ship had a small living space and galley kitchen on the first floor and a bedroom on the top. All the furnishings were built in, original to the aging relic, and in desperate need of replacement. The couch sagged and the bed was lumpy. Home sweet home.

Priya sat crossed legged on the old couch, scrolling through the jobs board. Half-heartedly she examined the listings. If only she could find a job that paid enough... But, no single job would pay enough. Maybe a series of high risk jobs. She could fly to zones no one else wanted to go to, go beyond the Fringe territories of the Interstellar Union.

The uncontrolled space beyond the IU territories was filled with pirates and worse, the aggressive and hungry spider-like aliens known as Edder. Venturing beyond the safety of the IU borders was dangerous but what choice did she have? Nimble and small, the Dashing Canard might be too small to appear on long range scanners. Maybe even small enough to avoid trouble.

An entertainment news program played in the background. Priya got up from the couch and grabbed an instant noodle bowl. She removed the foil lid and heated the contents, cooking the mediocre noodles in a matter of seconds. Slurping up the noodles, she tried not to think about the bland taste. Cheap and filling, it fit her budget perfectly.

The presenter of the news program blathered on about some prince from a planet that wasn't even in the Interstellar Union. Ever since that Fremmian prince ran off with a common Terran woman, alien royalty had been all over the news networks. In this case, the alien royal in question had broken up with a film star. Priya found herself watching old footage of an insanely photogenic alien male with green scales on his face smile to the cameras. An equally photogenic human woman lightly holding onto his arm, her smile vacant. The expert analyzed their body language and determined that the famous couple were already heading for a breakup when the actress's latest film premiered.

Ragnar. That name was familiar.

Computer, Priya said. Run a search on Prince Ragnar of Wye.

Twenty seconds later she got a hit. Prince Ragnar, famous for his headline grabbing antics and deep pockets, had a bad habit of being captured by pirates and held for ransom. Currently the prince resided at Aslan Station, living the high life. Recently constructed, the luxury resort catered to every decadent indulgence credit could buy.

Not her kind of place but a good place to find a prince.

A prince who was willing to pay a ransom.

Priya turned off the video and shut down the tablet screen. She wasn't honestly considering kidnapping and ransoming the prince, was she?

Right?

It's not like she intended to hurt him, she rationalized. She just needed to incapacitate him a little and collect the credit. She’d even use a stunner instead of a bolter or pistol. She wasn't going to kidnap kidnap him. She wouldn't injure him. A big male like him would barely feel the stunner. And a prince was worth a lot more credit than a dozen risky flights to the colony fringes.

She would have her loud, boisterous family back in no time at all.

And was it really wrong to kidnap and ransom a wealthy person who already expected it? No. Prince Ragnar probably had ransoms worked into the royal budget. He needed to expend a certain ransom amount every fiscal year. She tried to convince herself it'd be irresponsible not to ransom him.

The justifications were thin but what were her other options? Scrimp and save and pray that she made enough before Gracious' generosity wore off and he put her family up for auction.

Priya had said she was willing to do anything, after all.

She really had no choice in the matter.

Ragnar

The sound of the nestling fussing unhappily kept Ragnar awake. The soundproof walls in his cabin did no good when Korven walked the corridors, passing by the decidedly not sound proof door every few minutes.

Barefoot and wearing sleeping togs, Ragnar found his bleary-eyed cousin in a room with dimmed lights.

Korven stood at the window, the bright stars of distant systems shone through the dark. The nestling waved a brightly colored ring in one chubby hand. His wings stretched and flexed with every step. The nestling watched with fascination, continuing to wave the teething toy. The nestling beat the teething toy against the side of Korven’s head, trying to catch his wings with a free hand.

Nothing in Ragnar’s life prepared him for the stab of envy he felt.

Ragnar had wealth, a title, and fame but he did not have what his cousin, Korven, had. A mate and a nestling. People who needed him.

"You should rest. You have an