He offered her his arm. She wanted to skip to her quarters, but she matched her pace to his, content to be in his presence. Once in her room, however, she shed his cloak and spun around, arms wide. “I flew!” She could taste the wind on her lips and wanted more.
“You did indeed.” He caught her around the waist with one arm, swinging her close.
The touch, skin to skin, made her heart race. He spun her to face him, his gaze, surprisingly tender, roved over her.
“Navarre.” She touched his cheek.
His eyes gleamed, emeralds set in golden skin. “Erifydal.”
She closed her eyes and felt his lips upon her neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
He planted kisses in the hollow of her throat while his hands wandered. Cupping her breasts, he kissed their tops, and breathed in the scent of her.
“Navarre,” she repeated, burying her hands in his hair. He kissed her silent.
He tasted of wild things, the wind’s breathy secrets and promises of what was to come. The man and beast were one, but she felt as if she were being devoured. It was she who stopped the kiss, taking a moment to look deeply into his eyes.
“What does sh’niedra mean?”
He paused. “Beloved, loved one.” His brow furrowed. “It does not translate well. It means so much more.” He kissed her forehead, his fingers tracing her shoulder blades. “I should make sure you are unhurt.”
She trembled.
“Do I frighten you?”
Jade eyes slit like a cat’s watched her. She spotted the dragon in their depths and saw herself reflected back as he knew her. Would she really know him until they were scale to scale, beast to beast? Until she clawed his back and shrilled her pleasure? She shuddered again, locked in those thoughts.
He shook her gently. “Another time.” He kissed her until the dreams fled. “There is just me.”
“That is all I want.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“The beast or the man?” His breath tickled her ear.
“Both.” She nipped him on the neck.
With a growl, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He covered her with himself and laid a line of kisses between her breasts.
His touch was so hot she felt as if she were being seared. She wriggled free of his arms, unbuckled his tunic and worked it over his head. Arching her back, she pressed her breasts to his bare chest.
The air hissed out between his clenched teeth. “It has been a long time.”
Acting shocked, she pulled back. “You mean you didn’t save yourself for me?”
He fumbled. “I… Lady, it is not uncommon…” Then he saw the merriment in her eyes and stopped. “Blast you.”
Giggling, she kissed him on the tip of his nose. Touched that he wished only to please her, she murmured, “Don’t worry, you aren’t my first either, you know.”
Her slim fingers splayed across his chest, ivory to his gold. He was not overly muscled, just a hint of pectoral muscles and a taut belly. She missed seeing the teasing line of hair that should have marched its way from his navel to his darker secrets. The Dragoon bore no body hair. Her fingers tickled his ribs, then slid beneath the waistband of his breeches and traced a line around him. She could feel his heart hammering next to hers and was pleased.
Tugging down his breeches, she rolled him over, so that she was sitting on top. Her eyes widened. He was ready for her. She shivered, this time in anticipation. He was thick. Thank God she wasn’t a virgin. Someday she’d take great delight in playing with his manliness, but not tonight. Tonight was for gentler things. Besides, she wasn’t sure how much longer either of them could wait.
A thin sheen of sweat slicked his body. She stroked his muscled thighs, her hands brushing ever higher with each stroke.
“Enough,” he breathed, sitting upright and pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her. His lips took then, not at all gentle, seizing her lips, her earlobe, leaving marks on her neck and suckling at her breast until she whimpered.
They rolled together, tangling in the sheets. His hand covered her vulva. His finger explored, touched her gently there and circled.
“Oh lord.” She arched against him, seeking more. She wasn’t a porn queen, someone who could orgasm with two quick licks and a flick of the fingers, but she was ready for him. She needed him.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her eyes opened and she glanced wildly around. “Now, oh please now.” She couldn’t believe she was begging.
He caught her chin with one hand and forced her to meet his eyes. Then, with another touch, he sent her careening over the edge. His green eyes bound her to him. The green grew, surrounded everything, blotting out the pearlescent walls of her room, everything except what she was feeling. The warmth of it all shimmered through her, leaving her spasming in its wake.
Only then did he enter her. And the slow exquisitely torturous buildup to orgasm began again. She matched him stroke for stroke. The second time she went over the edge, she clung to him, breathed his deep wild scent and almost transformed beneath him. There was no concentrated thought behind it. The change seemed as simple as breathing, although her breath was far from easy at the moment. She needed to feel him scale to scale, would be torn asunder if she did not feel his wings wrapped around her.
“Steady now, my love,” he whispered. No fear laced his voice, but he held her to her human form.
She writhed beneath him, trying to assert her will over his. His arms wrapped tighter around her body. Breast to chest, he stroked inside her, whispering shreds of a language into her ear she felt she understood but could never repeat. And then he linked her mind with his own and took her with him when he exploded.
White-hot fire, exquisite clenching and a release that positively throbbed through every nerve ending she possessed. It was her body clenching around him but she could feel both herself and what she did to him. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples determinedly bored holes into his skin. Her sweet smell of wetness filled her nose, her small cries her ears.
She had not been honest when she told him she wasn’t a virgin. Where he was taking her was a place no man had brought her to before.
They rolled onto their sides, sweat slicking their bodies, he still inside her. She didn’t want to ever move again. Death could come at this moment and she would welcome it. She was complete.
When Navarre shifted his arm to get in a more comfortable position, she growled a protest.
He chuckled. With her head pressed against his chest, she heard the sound bubbling up long before it erupted. “Gentle, lady, your passion will kill us both.”
She didn’t want to speak, but since he broke the silence first, she whispered, “Is this…is this what it’s like when we’re dragons?”
He tucked her head beneath his chin. “That is for us to find out, for we’ll both be virgins there.”
She liked the thought of that. Being a virgin together. Discovering the passion that lay locked within the beast. It put them on level ground. They breathed in rhythm for a while.
“Does the prospect scare you?” he asked finally, when she did not respond.
“With you, nothing scares me.” Although that wasn’t entirely true. The thought of being pregnant, of actually passing eggs, eggs, out of her body, was pretty frightening. “If we succeed, later I mean, what happens after that?”
He pulled them apart far enough so they could look eye to eye. His face showed only concern. Tenderly, he brushed the hair away from her forehead and laid a kiss there. “If the Gods finally smile down on us, and we have a daughter, I doubt any one of the Dragoon will be sober on the day of the Hatching. But you need not concern yourself about that now.”
His lips seized hers in a drugging kiss and she let herself be swept beneath the sheets again.
PART TWO
Chapter Sixteen
Adrianne woke up long before she should have. She lay quietly in her bed, listening to the stea
dy hum of the ship’s inner workings. How easily she had shed her old life and embraced her new one both surprised and disturbed her. Like a snake discarding its used skin, she thought. Stretching her arms above her head, she reveled in the feeling of total contentment.
She would shapeshift and fly again today, Navarre by her side. She couldn’t wait. Every day she grew a little stronger, her landing a bit neater.
Something was different about her today though. She analyzed her normal bodily processes as Navarre had taught her. Her heart beat a little faster, not so much so as to be alarmed about. All seemed well. She felt so…so…alive.
Sliding out of bed, she swung her feet to the floor. Her thighs were wet. No, wait, she was wet, dripping with her own slick juices. She touched herself, rubbing the slickness between her fingers. What was this?
Oh, please let it not be a wet dream. No new surprises, please.
She felt Navarre’s touch at the back of her mind startle to wakefulness with her burst of dismay.
Is something amiss? he asked, drowsy.
Normally, she loved to touch his mind when he was only half awake. The sensuousness of it, the slow languid way his mental touch rolled through her was more stimulating than coffee. Today, it left her oddly yearning. I’m not sure if something’s wrong or not.
Just the sound of his voice, though, sent another trickle of juice sliding down her inner thigh. She shivered, feeling herself pull deep inside, inner muscles clenching. Trembling, she tugged the sheet off the bed and rubbed herself dry.
Immediately alert, Navarre ordered, Stay where you are.
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. She stood, wrapped herself in the sheet and padded to the bathroom.
There was a rap at her panel.
“The coast’s clear,” she called.
The panel slid open. “I am not familiar with that response.” Navarre stepped into her room, but remained beside the panel. “Are you well? Should I summon Altarre?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” She was embarrassed to tell him about her “leakage”. She stepped out of the bathroom, caught a whiff of his scent and felt herself clench again. Another river of wetness shimmied down her leg. “Not again,” she muttered. Holding the sheet around her with one hand, she dabbed at the wetness with a hand towel.
And then the impulse hit her… The uncontrollable urge to pounce on Navarre, rip off his clothes and rock her brains out, her lips consuming his shaft, one inch at a time. The thought was so ridiculous it almost made her laugh, but the need was there, like a tickle at the back of one’s throat. She was wet with need and the need was something that possessed her, would consume her if she didn’t feed it. And Navarre was convenient fodder.
Navarre took a step farther into the room.
“Stay back.” She threw her hand up, his scent surrounding her.
Navarre paused, tipped his head to the side and actually sniffed. “You are…ready?” He seemed puzzled but his voice held a note of wonderment.
“Ready for what?” She backed away from him awkwardly, thighs pressed together. But she suddenly knew what he was talking about. She was in heat, like a lovesick I’ll-hump-anything-that-stands-for-it dog.
He hesitated.
“What?” she said irritably. “Afraid someone’s going to sneak in and get a piece of the action before you do?”
“There are procedures and protocols to follow. I… We had not thought this would happen so quickly.”
“Well, it has.” Five days of shapeshifting flight under her belt and now she was in heat. What in bloody hell was she supposed to do about it? She sat on the bed. She was positively sopping. If she didn’t get a chance to fuck something soon, she’d take matters into her own hands. All the blood in her entire body had all pooled in those overeager labia of hers.
Navarre continued to stand there, hands at his side, looking as confused as she must. “If you don’t leave now, you will get fucked, one way or another, and you probably won’t like it and I won’t care.” Which was true. Reason and control were slipping away like sands through an hourglass.
“I will return shortly.”
She’d never seen him flee before, but he did now, and he took his familiar mental touch with him.
She stood, dropping the sheet, and prowled the room. She should take a bath. She should get dressed. She wanted nothing that was smart or wise or sensible.
Sweet Jesus, what was taking him so long?
The panel slid open without so much as a “here I come” and Benito stepped in. He held something white and slippery in his outstretched hands. Oh great. Just what she needed. More slippery things to deal with. What she wanted was long and hard and had nothing whatsoever to do with clothing.
“Dragoness.” Benito kept his eyes carefully averted from her nakedness. He presented her with the garment like it was the Shroud of Turin.
She snarled her frustration, startling them both.
Benito inched into the room. “I will just set it on the bed. When you get dressed, I will escort you outside the ship.”
She eyed Benito. He suddenly didn’t look so old.
He was quicker. He made it to the panel before she had finished crossing the room.
“Benito,” she purred. The clenching sensations deep inside her were driving her mad. “Why don’t you wait in here with me?”
Benito’s eyes glittered. “Unlike many of the others, I have flown a Queen before and am wiser for it. I will wait for you outside your room.”
“Damn it, Benito, doesn’t anyone here want me?” She struck a pose, thrusting her breasts out and arching her back.
Benito chuckled. “You will fly high and far, Dragoness.”
“Ugh!” She flung whatever she could grab at him, in this case a book.
It hit the panel as it was sliding shut.
She felt lascivious. She was burning up with this hunger. Stalking to the bed, she picked up the garment. It was a simple white robe, the fabric cool to the touch. Edged with gold symbols she was only learning to read, she recognized the dialect as second-level Labyrinthine, the language of the Gods. She prided herself on retaining control of at least that portion of her mind.
The sleeveless robe fit snugly to her chest and breasts, flaring at the waist to descend in a puddle of fabric at her feet. It confined her too much. She plucked at the collar, then strode to the panel.
Enough! She was going hunting and the Dragoon were her prey.
In the hallway, Benito watched her from a safe distance. “Outside, Dragoness. They are all outside.”
She turned on him, then decided at the last minute that if one was good, many might be even better. One man could never ease her hunger and she had an appetite for young, hardy, virile flesh. She’d kill Benito with the passion racing through her right now.
Making her decision, she ran down the hallway, her breasts aching with each bounce. Had they mutinied as well? Her body had become alien to her.
No ladder to crawl down today. Today, a ramp sloped gently to the surface, the Dragoon assembled at its end. She could smell each one. When had her senses become so keen? Composure was impossible at this moment, but at least she managed to walk up the ramp. She paused at the top, trembling.
The wind swirled around her, fluffing her skirt. She turned her face upward. The sun’s rays were just beginning to streak the sky with pinks and reds.
“You need to choose, Dragoness.” She didn’t know whether it was spoken out loud or in her mind nor who actually spoke.
Navarre’s name was on her lips. But he had left her in this state, hadn’t he? She prowled before them, eyeing each as if they were nothing more than delectable morsels. Even Quince was present. How had he gotten here so quickly?
But the hunger had no patience. She needed to be filled now.
“Navarre!” She didn’t recognize her own voice, his name both a demand and a plea.
Navarre stepped forward and reached for her hands. She drew back, just out of reach.
He stopped, waiting.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” she insisted. “Fly, damn it!”
“I will fly when you do, my lady.” As always, his voice was level, unperturbed. But there was a sheen to his skin, a barely contained edginess her new senses picked up. He still wanted her. Her heart soared.
Another snarl of frustration tore out of her. Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed his face and kissed him. His lips were warm and responsive, but restrained. He kept his arms at his sides. She seized his lower lip between her teeth and bit. She tasted a hint of blood.
The blood set her off.
She’d blame it later for all the wantonness.
Pulling back, she glared at him. “Don’t you want me?”
“Fly, my lady, and I will show you how badly I crave you.”
With a growl, she stalked to Quince’s side. “Kiss me,” she demanded.
Quince would not meet her gaze. “You have already chosen, Dragoness.”
Lords, these men were maddening. She spun away, threw her hands up and changed. The change poured through her like molten lava. Her arms split, became wings and forearms. Her tail lashed the ground in agitation. She was halfway into the air before the change was fully complete, her still-human lungs searing as they tried to capture enough oxygen to fuel her exertion.
Then she was airborne. The wind gibbered around her, tugging at her scales and teasing her with the scent of the Dragoon below.
Damn them all. She pumped her wings and soared higher, reveling in her strength. She was muscle and need and no more, nothing more than a twinkling mote in the broad expanse of sky.
And then there was another shadow beside her. Dark green, moving as fast and as high as she, matching her every move.
Fool!
She twisted away from him, clear of the dawn’s beckoning light, to dip low and fast. Tucking her wings, she plunged toward the ground, caught herself at the last possible moment and veered away, wings pumping. Navarre matched her, and crept closer.
Hah! He had his chance on the ground. She’d never let him catch her now.
But the jade devil was quick. He darted just out of reach when she made a pass at him with her foreclaws. Encouraged, she twirled closer, her wings brushing his.
The Last Queen Page 19