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  Daryk Rogue

  Denise A. Agnew

  Daryk World, Book Two

  Ruled by treacherous desires to mate…

  He would kill and die for her.

  When Xandra Shorenus’ husband murders her family in retaliation for her defiance she escapes, but a huge wave wrecks her ship. Rogue Daryk One Rayder Tyrus saves her but commands her allegiance with one kiss. She is his now, in and out of bed.

  Rayder has infiltrated a dangerous faction, his need for redemption and retribution absolute. Desire to protect Xandra mixes with powerful carnal needs that demand he show her pleasures she never could have imagined in her sheltered life. They discover a fiery connection forged between hot kisses, adventurous touches and mind-melting unions. They must learn to survive the wrath of the breeder-slaver who hates Rayder, the elements of jungle and desert that rule the land, and a war about to erupt that could separate them forever.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Daryk Rogue

  ISBN 9781419932137

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Daryk Rogue Copyright © 2010 Denise A. Agnew

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication December 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Daryk Rogue

  Denise A. Agnew

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband Terry for his encouragement and understanding. You’re the best husband a woman could ever have.

  To Lena Robinson for your constant friendship, brainstorming sessions and for sharing this publishing journey with me.

  To the Wednesday Night Discussion Group. You know who you are. Thanks for knowing how to make every step of this journey even that much better.

  Chapter One

  Planet Croan

  Near the Supercontinent Magonia

  Protican Ocean

  For an eternity Xandra Shorenus gasped for air. She hung on to the few breaths her lungs allowed as she was tossed upward by the ocean’s waves and thrown into the chilling water with incredible force.

  She wheezed, swimming through the icy water, and caught a glimpse of the ship as a monumental sheet of water hit the vessel and obliterated it like a wooden toy.

  Terror choked off her breath as brutally as the mighty wave that sucked her down. Water churned and frothed and pounded. As she went under, she held her breath, lungs bursting with need to inhale.

  No. I can’t. I have to survive this. I haven’t come this far just to perish in a storm.

  She kicked to the surface and used formidable swimming skills to outwit the ocean.

  Thousands of thoughts ran through her with lightning-quick precision. Her home in Magonia. The man she hated and was supposed to marry. Her brother and parents. Grief flooded her along with water. Her mind couldn’t stop regretting, wondering if this horrible moment was the wrath of the god Magon.

  Had her sins caught up with her?

  Had her rebellion led to this horrible death?

  Rain clouds tried to obliterate the starlight sky and the two moons that gave the water a silvery sheen. The swamped ship still floated, but within a blink it groaned as it slipped into the ocean with a sigh.

  She glanced around frantically. What of her newfound friends Ketera and Mia?

  Time seemed to crawl as she treaded rough water and scanned for any survivors. She couldn’t be the only one alive. No one appeared, and tears burned her eyes as much as the salty ocean. She floated as best as she could, hoping to outlast the tempest and find her way to shore. But she had no idea which way to go. Despair mingled with regrets. She’d made a hash of her life, and now she couldn’t do a thing to repair it. Her strength waned, and she struggled with gripping cold and horrible despair. Cold iced her to the bone, her body racked with shivers. Ignoring the fact that water this cold killed quickly, she kept her mind active. She couldn’t allow herself to forget why she’d sailed in the first place.

  I vowed to bring justice to my family’s death.

  To atone for my own sins.

  I can’t fail now.

  Moonlight speared through storm clouds and in the distance she saw another enormous ship. Her heart leapt with hope. The ship moved with incredible speed, cutting through the water and coming right toward her. Could they possibly see her? It didn’t seem likely, but she wasn’t going to take the chance they’d pass her by.

  Desperation fueled one last cry. She screamed. Yelled at the top of her lungs. Her body shuddered, ached with a horrendous cold and weariness that threatened to drag her back into the depths. The shipped slowed and before long it was close by.

  A dark figure appeared at the side of the ship and looked down at her. Then many more men came to the side and looked down. The first dark man shouted orders, but she didn’t know if it was at her or people on the ship. She couldn’t understand him above the noise and her own panting breath.

  So cold. So…cold…

  She closed her eyes. Just for one moment.

  That’s all.

  One moment.

  * * * * *

  A loud noise broke Xandra straight from unconsciousness. She gasped as she bolted upright. Daylight streamed through a porthole, blinding her, and she blocked it with one hand. Breathing heavily, her entire body aching horribly, she sat up and swung her feet off the bed. Taking in her surroundings quickly, she noted several things. The sway and motion of the room suggested she was back on a ship, as did the porthole and the scent of salty water. Wood creaked and groaned under the pressures required to sail on the ocean. She sniffed and caught a not-unpleasant scent, something spicy and earthy all at once.

  She jolted into full awareness. Her hands smoothed over a soft dress. She wore a loose dress, nothing like the simple pants, boots, long-sleeved tunic and full-length coat she’d chosen to wear when she’d left Opali with her betrothed watching her every move.

  Shock held her breathless a moment. Someone had changed her clothes.

  She brushed away her surprise—at least these clothes were dry.

  At least she’d survived.

  Shaking with cold, she took in the desk in one corner cluttered with writing instruments, an inkwell and paper. A dark brown pair of men’s breeches lay over the chair in front of the desk. In one corner, a breastplate was propped along with a sword so long and heavy-looking she couldn’t imagine how anyone would lift it. She’d heard of swords and seen them in a museum on Magonia, and yet she’d never seen one in anyone’s hands. She tossed the question out of her mind, aware that she had far more important things to worry about.

  Her stomach sw
irled, uncomfortable with the ship’s movement. She’d suffered during the trip, never quite feeling well the entire time. Near the end, before the wave came, she’d found some normalcy. Then the wave had come. She lifted a shaking hand to her aching head.

  By the god Magon, had everyone but her perished on her ship? Tears sprang to her eyes. Part of her filled with enormous pain at the thought of her newfound friends Ketera and Mia being drowned. Another part rejoiced that perhaps her enemy Taris Elian had died. Perhaps she was free of him. She’d have to be cautious. If he’d survived, then she could be in danger right now.

  She’d heard that Dragonian slavers roamed the oceans, ready to kidnap Magonian women for their slaves. If she’d been rescued by one of them—no. She didn’t want to think on the horrible things that could happen. She’d also heard that Dragonian men had little scruples when it came to women, and if one decided he wished to claim her, she could be his forever. Apparently all the man had to do was kiss her as a stamp of ownership. She shivered in revulsion at the idea.

  Desperate to find out if her friends had lived, she stood on wobbly legs and noticed her boots and socks by the bed. Both were dry, so she put them on and moved slowly for the door. She opened it with difficulty and the hinges creaked. Stepping outside cautiously, she held on to the door as if it could keep her on her feet.

  Several men moved about the deck. Suddenly a hairy man with enormous arms stalked toward Xandra. Impressions flew at her. Far over six feet, he had the bulk and brawn capable of hurting her easily. His nose looked half smashed, as if he’d grown a panatan root for a nose, all bumpy and bulbous. Lank, thin dark hair hung to his chest. A red bandana circled his neck. He wore a dirty white tunic and filthy black breeches. Watery green eyes held nothing but hostility.

  She stepped back and bumped into the doorway.

  “What are you doin’ out here, girly?” the man’s gravel-filled voice asked.

  “I’m— Where am I?”

  The big man stopped too close in front of her. “You’re on the Beast.”

  His hand came up to touch her hair and she flinched. She threw her hand up in front of her, alarmed. “No.”

  “No?” He laughed and touched her hair anyway, his eyes hot with an emotion she didn’t recognize. He smelled sweaty and her already unstable stomach lurched. “Girly, you don’t have the right to say no on this ship. You belong to us now.”

  “I do not.” Anger twisted inside her, and she stiffened her spine. “I was on the Hydrasoseles. A passenger ship. She was destroyed by this huge wave—”

  “We ’eard of the ship, little lady,” another man’s crackling voice said nearby. An older man with long gray hair and a wobbly gait strode up until he stood nearby. “Barely escaped that wave ourselves. A fierce storm, it was.” He winked. “But not as strong as the Beast.”

  His hand made a waving motion that presented the craft. Enormous sails reached for the brilliant blue sky. The ship cruised through the water at a pace the Hydrasoseles couldn’t have managed, and the sheer size astonished her.

  “Very nice, but I need to get back to Magonia,” she said.

  Two other men watching the conversation dropped what they were doing and closed in, their eyes intent and curious, but not as overtly dangerous as the men in front of her. Still, she was encircled, and if she wanted to escape this crowd of stinky, awful men, she’d have to think of a defense soon. But where could she go to hide on a ship? What if Elian were nearby? Fear leaked through her bravado, but she shored up her bravery. She couldn’t crumble now. Perhaps a man would come along who would have some principles and decency. If she spotted a possibility, she’d peck him on the cheek, and that would keep these disgusting men away from her.

  The gray-haired man’s small eyes scanned her with evil intent. “Magonia, eh? Now that’s a fine thing. You shouldn’t have told us that.”

  She swallowed. “Why?”

  “Why you’re our enemy, little lady.”

  “Enemy—” She cut herself off as she realized what they meant. “Then you are a Dragonia ship?”

  The bruiser glared at her and laughed. “We ain’t Dragonian. We don’t belong to no country. We’re on our own and better for it.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. Every ship flies under the flag of Magonia or Dragonia.”

  The men all laughed, and through their guffaws the bruiser leered. “Yeah, but we have our own country. The ocean is our home. Ain’t no need for dry land. A man is free here to do as he sees fit and not by another’s leave.”

  “We don’t cotton to no man’s word except for the admiral’s,” another man said nearby.

  He gestured to a flag that flew above the craft. It was solid black with no insignia.

  Fear tingled along her spine and sent screams of alarm to every part of her body.

  The old man laughed softly. “Maybe I should let this here rotter have a taste of you before I get my own.” He touched her hair and she flinched. “No harm in having a little play, is there? You Magonian women are as sweet as they come, I hear tell.”

  Bruiser nodded emphatically. “I done had one not too long ago. She was from the Hydrasoseles too.”

  Oh Magon. Had they hurt Ketera and Mia?

  Panic stirred inside, but she refused to show it. Gulping down the tightness in her throat, she remembered what she’d learned from her friend Mia about defending herself. A swift kick to this hateful man’s bits and—

  The old guy reached for her.

  She took a step forward and brought her knee up with raw force. Her knee made contact with the old geezer’s manly parts and he screamed. He doubled up in pain and collapsed on the deck.

  Sickness washed over her, a weakness that she’d never experienced before and that threatened to cut her legs out from under her. She tried to slip past the bruiser.

  “Magonian bitch whore!” He grabbed her by the throat. His huge fist clenching around her throat with such force a fierce pain pierced her throat.

  “Release her at once!” A deep and commanding voice, dark with anger, cut the air.

  The bruiser didn’t, and she choked, grabbing the man’s forearm and digging in her nails. He didn’t budge. She kicked out, made contact with the man’s knees. He grunted but didn’t lose loosen his grip.

  A dark shadow swiftly launched at the man. Through her fading vision she saw the shape bring a baton down on the man’s head. Bruiser released her and she gasped for much needed air as the big man yelled in pain and fell to the deck. Coughing, she touched her throat gingerly.

  Her vision cleared as the man who rescued her roared at the other men. “Farcam! Touch her again and I’ll cut off your cock and feed it to you.” He threw a deadly glanced at the old man. “Oscan, you’ve been warned before. Into the brig with you.” He gestured at the other men. “Get these bags of guts below and put them in chains.” Her rescuer said with deadly coldness to Farcam, “Admiral Aramus will have your hide for dinner.”

  “Fuck you,” Farcam said, giving her rescuer a flash of a middle finger.

  “Sorry, mate.” Her rescuer threw a disgusted look his way. “Not my type.”

  The other men dragged Farcam and the old geezer away.

  Her rescuer turned his gaze on her and his eyes stayed predatory, hungry almost as his gaze traveled her face and body with clear appreciation. “You, however, are.”

  The man who’d saved her hooked his baton to his belt and walked toward her, his stride self-assured and as authoritative as his voice. His face was young, maybe thirty years, but there was a wealth of age imprinted in his eyes. Thick hair as inky as the night came to just above his shoulders. Danger and fierceness in his almost black eyes sent two spears of emotion through Xandra. Stark fear and unaccountable attraction. He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her. Or perhaps kill her.

  She blinked, amazed at this new threat that stalked toward her. He was as big as the creature who had dared to touch her, but the difference between the men was marked. Her rescuer wore a sl
eeveless black tunic open down the front to reveal a muscular chest covered in a generous sprinkling of black hair. The tunic was cinched at the waist by a wide black belt. Black breeches curved over muscular thighs and calves. Black boots covered his feet and ended mid-calf. This new predator didn’t have a modicum of extra fat. He moved with grace, muscles rippling in his tanned arms.

  Fear sizzled along her body. So this lug had saved her from the ugly man only to waylay her too?

  Dizziness swamped her and she blinked quickly, trying to right her vision. She had to think quickly, and she held one hand out in front of her to warn him off.

  Her throat burned as she managed to croak, “Don’t touch me.”

  “I won’t harm you.” He frowned and his gaze landed on her hand, which she held up toward her throat, rubbing at the sore flesh. “You’re hurt.”

  She shook her head, afraid any sign of vulnerability would set these men on her like a predatory animal. “No.”

  He stared at her with a mixture of vexation and curiosity, and that’s when she made a rash decision. At least this man seemed decent enough that he didn’t want to hurt her and he had some authority.

  She found her voice. “I hear that if a Dragonian man kisses a woman, then she is his and no other man is permitted to touch her.”

  The man smiled, but his eyes burned with a raw heat that she’d never seen in a man’s eyes before. “That is true.”

  “Very well then.” She leaned forward, aiming for his right cheek.

  Her savior had other ideas.

  He snatched her into his embrace. Banded to him by steely arms, she couldn’t move. His eyes burned into hers, and then his mouth touched her lips. Not softly. Not hard. But with swift, enveloping, amazing skill. She’d been kissed twice, but never like this. His mouth was tender, tasting, brushing, and then—