Ragnar - Lord of Jaegar Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Kept by the Billionaire - Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  The Virgin’s Tale - Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Sasha Gold

  Please note that this is a work of adult fiction and contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity. It is intended for mature readers aged 18 and over.

  Visit Sasha’s home page and sign up for her mailing list by clicking here. Mailing list subscribers receive information about future releases, exclusive offers and bonus material.

  When you finish reading Ragnar, Lord of Jaegar, turn the page and start another steamy romance, Kept by the Billionaire. Click here to jump to that story, or click here to view the book on Amazon.

  There’s more… you also get a bonus Western story from Alix West, The Virgin’s Tale. Click here to jump to that story, or click here to view the book on Amazon.

  Chapter One

  Natasha

  Natasha ran down the hallway to the send-off meeting, muttering a few curse words under her breath. Major Sebastian, the commanding officer, liked to say, “If you’re not early, you’re late.”

  Sebastian’s lieutenant stood at the doorway with a smirk on her face. She held out Natasha’s dossier, the red and black folder containing her flight assignment. “Lucky you, Captain Petrov. You get to make a trip to the Penal Colony. And your passenger is a particularly nasty prisoner.”

  Natasha pursed her lips, but said nothing. This was not the place to show emotion. If she gave any reaction whatsoever, backing down, a flinch, even a raised eyebrow, it would be interpreted as a sign of weakness. She took the dossier and stepped into the meeting room, moving to the empty seat at the end of the table.

  All the pilots sat quietly, listening to Sebastian drone on about the importance of following protocol. Natasha kept from scoffing, but just barely. As if anyone would step out of line. There wasn’t a single pilot in the squadron who would assert herself against Major Sheyanne Sebastian.

  “Ah, Captain Petrov, so nice of you to join us,” Sebastian announced, focusing her cold gaze on Natasha. “It’s good to know you’re keeping up with your beauty rest.”

  A few pilots snickered. Feminine qualities, like beauty, gentleness and grace, were attributes that were openly disdained by the Maiden Class. While some Maidens might pride themselves on their looks, they would never do so publicly.

  Natasha had been a member of the Maiden Class since age thirteen, when she’d received her directive from Parliament. When girls on the planet of Andromeda reached puberty, they were assigned to their respective class. They were either Maidens or Nymphs. Maidens held jobs, while Nymphs married and raised children. Nymphs didn’t work outside of their homes.

  Men were scarce on Andromeda. Most Nymphs married. Very few Maidens did.

  “I’m sorry, Major,” Natasha answered. “I was delayed.”

  She could have given Sebastian details about why she was late, that she’d been combing radio transmissions, searching for a sign of Elise, her twin sister. That excuse would have gotten nowhere. Elise had been missing almost three months. She was presumed dead.

  Andromeda had strict rules on mourning the loss of immediate family members. Forty-three days had been deemed sufficient by the Parliament. Any grieving beyond that point was viewed as a scheme to shirk one’s duty. Natasha drew a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back and tried to ignore the sting of tears.

  Sebastian either didn’t see her reaction or didn’t care. She set her hands on her narrow waist. “Your assignment is simple enough. Pendleton and back. But your passenger is a Jaegarian male. He killed four sentries last week and has been sentenced to ten years hard labor.”

  A hush fell about the room. Every eye was on Natasha. She knew they waited for her to beg for a different task. Outwardly, her squadron was a tightly-knit group of highly-trained pilots, but the group was anything but loyal. In-fighting and back-stabbing was constant and pervasive.

  Natasha nodded. “I look forward to the challenge, Major.”

  Dangerous missions look good on a resume. She might just volunteer for every prisoner transport. She steeled her emotions to keep from showing any trepidation.

  “Of course, you do. The sentries were found with their throats torn open. Security checked video surveillance. They found nothing. No one saw the actual killings, but everyone swears he’s a wolf-shifter.”

  Natasha’s blood ran cold. Stories of Jaegarian men abounded. They were a head taller than the average Andromedin male, vicious in battle and, it was said, sexually insatiable. The notion struck her as bizarre. Men on her planet used tonics to fulfill their marital duties, even on their wedding nights. But wolf shifters were said to be even more fierce and totally invincible. What would such a man look like, she wondered.

  Her face burned with embarrassment as carnal images turned in her mind. And just as fast, she thought of Elise, her sister who vanished three months ago. All she could feel was shame. How could she entertain such filth? What would Elise say if she knew? Probably tease her mercilessly. Elise was always the fearless one, the one who’d raise her middle finger to both authority and propriety.

  “Is Captain Petrov going to be given extra security?”

  The question came from Celeste, a pilot Natasha had mentored.

  Sebastian arched a brow. “Is that what you’d like, Captain Petrov? A babysitter?”

  It was a test. If Natasha agreed, she’d lose face in front of the entire squadron. Prisoner transports came up rarely. They were always the subject of debate. Should the prisoner be manacled? Sedated? Treated humanely or vindictively? Justice or mercy?

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” she replied, keeping her tone even. “The bars on the prisoner cell are made of solid titanium. The trip is less than three hours.”

  Celeste turned to her. “Not the way you fly. Knowing you, you’ll be there and back in three hours.”

  A few pilots chuckled good-naturedly, cutting through some of the tension.

  “I will manage alone.”

  “Good.” Sebastian turned away and headed for the door. “And Captain,” she said, as the door slid open, “don’t let your soft heart get the best of you. Murderers don’t need to be mentored.”

  A wave of laughter move
d across the room. The few allies she had, covered their mouths to keep from showing their amusement.

  A bell pierced the air, announcing it was time for departures. The women filed out quietly. Sebastian stood just outside and watched her pilots with a scowl, her brows knit. She kept her disapproving gaze on Natasha for a little longer than usual, but didn’t make any more disdainful comments. Natasha heaved a sigh of relief when she was well away. She wouldn’t have to endure the woman’s scorn until the beginning of the next rotation.

  She trailed the rest of her squad out to the docking station. Her ship would be the last to leave because of her dangerous mission. If the prisoner turned on the sentries, it would be best if there were few people around to get hurt.

  She could feel Sebastian’s gaze burning into her back as she walked down the hallway. Some of the cadets spoke of the Commanding Officer’s late-night meetings. There were whispers of money changing hands from wealthy donors to Sebastian. Cadets suggested the woman was taking bribes on construction of a new docking station in the southern hemisphere, an allegation almost too outlandish to imagine.

  Before turning the corner, she looked over her shoulder. Sebastian and one of her minions glared back. Natasha turned away and entered the docking station.

  Chapter Two

  Ragnar

  At times, Ragnar Helmsgaard disliked his wolf. Most of the time the creature remained amenable. He didn’t snarl or interfere. Not usually. But in the last year, his wolf had begun insisting on his way, demanding a mate. For some reason, his wolf insisted on coming to Andromeda. Ragnar went along with the plan with the idea of participating in the Blood Games, a set of brutal competitions the primitive planet of Andromeda offered every three Solarai.

  Why not? He’d assumed his wolf was mistaken and simply restless, and at the very least, Ragnar could take the winnings and spend them on something he didn’t need. A new set of weapons. Or maybe a gift for his ailing mother. Birgitta wanted her three sons to find mates. She wanted grandchildren. If Ragnar didn’t return with a woman by his side, at least he could offer his mother a bauble or trinket. Maybe diamonds or pearls.

  Everything had gone well, up to a point. He’d won the games, handily, defeating the favorite, a young Vrandarian sapling that, amusingly, went by the name of Thunder. In the final round, the hand-to-hand round, Ragnar pinned him and finally the man submitted. A hush fell over the stadium as the Andromedins stared in shocked dismay.

  As Ragnar released the man, he scanned the quieted crowd and saw the leader of the Vrandarians, a fanged, hideous man with deep set eyes. Riddeal. A man who should be in prison, or worse.

  He saw Riddeal motion to one of the judges and a brief conference was called. Moments later an announcement was made that Ragnar, because he could purportedly shift into other forms, was not eligible to receive the tournament prize. Members of the Parliament declared him the winner, but the prize money would go to the runner up, the Vrandarian.

  Enraged, Ragnar headed into the stands, directly for Riddeal. Several Vrandarian soldiers formed a shield around Riddeal, and Andromedin police pulled their guns. Ragnar did not want to start an intergalactic fracas, mostly because he did not want to upset his ailing mother, so he backed down and offered to leave peacefully, provided the decision be reversed and he be awarded the prize.

  He saw Riddeal smile and shake his head. The magistrate announced again the decision to award the prize to the runner up, and Ragnar lost control. He knocked three guards to the ground before six others were able to bind him and lead him out of the stadium, handcuffed. He could have easily shifted and killed them all, but in that moment the wolf within him whispered for him to relent. His wolf sensed his mate was near. And Ragnar somehow knew his animal was right. His mate was here, on Andromeda. All thoughts of his Vrandarian nemesis faded.

  Ragnar allowed himself to be imprisoned in the jail that lay in the depths of Andromeda. He could have escaped, easily. Instead, he waited for a sign of his mate. What he got instead was a visit from four sentries. During the night, they crept into his cell, armed with iron bars, intending to beat Ragnar and teach him a lesson. His survival instinct took over. He shifted and killed all four.

  Two days later they sentenced him to Pendleton. A joke. The moment his transport left Andromedin airspace, he’d contact one of his brothers. They’d dispatch a ship to meet him at the penal colony and that would be the end of that. His wolf must have been mistaken. Ragnar had imagined one of the lovely Andromedin Nymphs might reveal herself to him. Perhaps she would come to his cell. But days had passed. Nothing happened. Now they wanted to send him to their excuse for a prison.

  He smirked as five sentries entered his cell. Two shackled his hands and feet while a third kept his telum aimed at Ragnar. The other two stood circled behind him and waited.

  “You’re going on a little vacation,” the sentry said, his mouth twisted into a smile.

  “I hope they have better food,” Ragnar replied. “And women.”

  “Your pilot is a woman, but she’s a Maiden.”

  Ragnar shrugged as the men secured a padlocked belt around his waist and then bound his wrists to the belt. He could easily rip the restraints off, but his wolf told him to comply. Why that was, he couldn’t imagine. Perhaps today he would finally meet his mate, and his wolf knew this.

  Andromeda had many acceptable females, all Nymphs. If he was destined to mate with a Nymph that was fine. The other females of Andromeda, Maidens they were called, were trained in warfare and medicine and scientific fields. They were small, wiry and athletic. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had their natural, feminine submissiveness trained out of them. They sounded more like adolescent boys than women.

  The cuffs, clearly made for a smaller man, cut into his skin. The iron probably came from Minos, a planet that belonged to Ragnar’s people. Wouldn’t his brothers be amused to know he was bound by Minoan iron?

  “We’re taking you to the docking station and loading you onto the prisoner transport,” the armed sentry said.

  Ragnar nodded. “I’m ready for some more Andromedin hospitality.”

  The sentry scowled. “Muzzle the prisoner.”

  Ragnar remained still as the men struggled to attach a leather muzzle over his mouth. Two sentries stood on stools. The men worked to affix the gag. Their panicked breathing told him all he needed to know. They’d seen what he’d done to their companions and were terrified.

  They should be. In the last few days, Ragnar had decided he despised the Andromedins. All of them. He wouldn’t kill these men because he wanted to leave their planet. Killing them would delay his departure. Once he was on the ship, he wouldn’t kill the pilot either, for a different reason.

  Jaegarians didn’t harm women or children.

  Over-powering the Maiden pilot would be simple enough. The sentries had gloated about the titanium bars on the ship’s cell. Did they think titanium would stop him from escaping? Let them delude themselves. By the time he was out of Andromedin airspace, the little Maiden pilot would be inside her own cell. He’d return to Jaegar with her as his prize and give her to one of his favorite generals if she was comely. Or put her to work keeping his chambers clean if she was plain.

  The sentries finally finished securing the muzzle. It not only prevented him from speaking but it covered his entire head. He could see through eye holes but other than that he was hidden.

  The sentry with the telum swung the cell door open. One of his companions shoved Ragnar toward the opening. Ragnar growled. The men scrambled away. The sentry with the telum raised it and pointed the barrel at Ragnar’s head.

  “One wrong move,” he muttered. “And I’ll shoot.”

  Ragnar nodded. He exited the cell and together the group moved down the darkened hallway. Chains clanking, Ragnar shuffled past the other cells. He heard other prisoners scrambling to the front of their cells to get a look at him. They pressed against the bars. Taunted and jeered. Some banged their tin cups against the bars. O
thers spat but were too far away to hit him.

  The loudest catcalls came from a prisoner from the Bode Galaxy. The alien was set to stand trial for the murder of his parents. The first night Ragnar had spent in his cell, he’d heard him brag to another prisoner that he’d killed them over an inheritance. What kind of monster killed his parents?

  “Look at the big brute now,” the Boder jeered. “Where’s your wolf when you need him?”

  Ragnar shook his head. One of the sentries behind him jabbed him in the ribs, a warning not to respond. No one wanted more bloodshed, it seemed. Bloodshed never bothered Ragnar. If he had his choice he’d kill the alien right then. Killing him would remove the possibility the beast might be found innocent and set free.

  The heckling faded as they drew closer to the jail’s portal.

  One of the sentries hurried to the controls. “Permission to open jail portal. Removal of Jaegarian prisoner initiated.”

  A voice crackled through the speaker. “State your destination.”

  “The flight decks. Prisoner to be transferred to Pendleton.”

  “Permission granted.”

  The door lurched open, creaking on rusted wheels. A breeze wafted over him. Carried on the cool air was an intoxicating scent, soft, sweet and seductive. His breathing grew shallow. He curled his hands into fists and resisted the urge to explode out of his restraints. What was that fragrance? Closing his eyes, he shuddered. Deep inside, his wolf growled softly.

  Chapter Three

  Natasha

  Natasha entered the flight deck. The enormous room echoed with the bustle of activity. Pilots climbed into their ships, one by one they fired up their engines. The floor shook. Her encounter with Major Sebastian faded rapidly from her thoughts. Exhilaration grew inside her, as it always did before takeoff, a sense of anticipation and excitement unlike any other thing she knew.

  When she’d first become a pilot, Andromeda warred with an alien species. Her training involved angles of attack and defensive maneuvering, tactical skills for fighter pilots. The duration of her training was cut in half, partly because they needed her to fly, and partly because she learned so quickly. Her first fifty missions all involved combat, either directly or in support of other troops. She knew that, in part, her skill had brought an end to the alien incursions. Andromeda was at peace now, but her heart still beat double time when she stepped into the loading station.