by Grace Draven
She looked at the raven, who was hopping in a circle around her as if playing a child’s game.
“My only choices are,” she said, “either the agonizing death of being burned at the stake in the village, or the slow death of starvation in the woods, or…” She swallowed. “A swift death delivered by sharp dragon teeth.”
“Caw.”
“You’re right. A swift death would be best.”
She returned to the flat stone by the creek and slumped onto it. She needed just another moment to gather her courage. She gave a deep sigh, then lay back and stared at the sky. Midnight kicked off and rose to the air, flying circles above her.
The sun shone warmly on Einin’s face. She closed her eyes. She thought of the village, and she thought of the dragon, but soon those thoughts drifted from her. She had not slept nearly enough the night before. Anxiety had kept her awake for most of the night, until she’d bolted in panic like a rabbit. Now sleep pulled her under.
Dusk was falling by the time she woke, shivering. At first, she didn’t see Midnight anywhere, but the raven came quickly enough once Einin opened the bundle that held her meager leftovers. She shared her remaining boiled egg and the wrinkled old apple that was the last of the previous year’s harvest. She drank again from the creek and washed her face. Then she filled her lungs and turned toward the dragon’s cave.
“No sense in delaying any further.”
“Caw.”
“Just once, I wish you said something helpful. And if you could, just once, now is the time.”
“Caw,” the raven responded.
Einin shook her head and began rebraiding her hair, her locks loosened from her mad dash through the woods and then by sleep. After she finished, she straightened her clothes. Then she started out on her path, steeling her spine as she went. At least by going to the dragon, she would die with honor, having kept her word.
“Ready to pay the dragon’s price,” she muttered under her breath, and this time, the raven didn’t answer. The bird had disappeared again. Einin rubbed her arms against the chill. “Off to see the dragon, then.”
Truly, from one such as the great beast, where could she flee? Where could she hide? And if she acted the coward, the dragon might bring harm to the village. Even if the village rejected her now, the people were still the neighbors and friends she’d once loved, had grown up around. And what about the children? Einin would not see them burn in dragon fire. She kept her eyes on the darkening path and marched forward and up the hill.
She tried not to think of the very strong likelihood that by morning, the dragon would be picking her bones out of his fearsome teeth. Every night since she’d met him, in her dreams she’d seen nothing but the death that awaited her in his black eyes.
It had to be near the middle of the night by the time she reached the end of the faint trail. Then she walked past the last outcropping of rocks, and the dark mouth of the dragon’s cave opened menacingly before her. Her knees weakened at the sight. She thought she heard the flapping of wings high above, but if the raven was there, it didn’t call out.
Einin’s feet wouldn’t move forward. The urge to flee washed over her, stronger than ever, but she held her ground. She did not turn back, not even when the sound of sharp talons on stone reached her, and, in the very next moment, the dragon appeared.
Fly, Midnight, fly, and don’t come back. You don’t want to see what happens next.
The beast was as frightening as Einin remembered. More so, even. The moon was full, and for the first time, Einin could fully see him. The inside of the cave had been dim.
His blue-black scales glinted in the moonlight, as did his curved fangs. He appeared rounder. Must have fed since. Einin shuddered at the thought. He’d feed once again before the night was over. She shuddered again, unable to stop herself.
He was twice her height, and twice as long as he was tall, not counting the snaking spiked tail. He kept his great wings folded, and she had no desire to see them spread. He looked beastly and stark, his obsidian eyes fixed on her, his attention holding her immobile. She couldn’t run now if she tried, couldn’t move a muscle.
“So you came.” His deep, rumbling voice filled the clearing before the cave and reached inside her to surround her trembling heart.
A long moment passed before she could gather herself enough to draw her shoulders straight and hold out her hands to the side to show that she brought no weapons this time. “I’m here to fulfill our bargain. I’m here to slake the dragon’s hunger. Of my own will.”
Her voice did not shake, and that provided her with some small consolation on the eve of her death. Mayhap her father would be proud of her. He’d always called her a strong lass, and not with disapproval as many other fathers would have.
She wasn’t brave long, however. The dragon’s lips curled back, and she blanched. A smile was a fearsome sight on a full-grown dragon. For certain, she would have happily gone her whole life without seeing such a smile. She hadn’t realized he had quite that many wicked teeth.
She could barely squeeze out the words, “May I have a last wish?”
The beast stared at her with a speculative gleam in those all-seeing eyes. “What would you wish for, Einin of Downwood?”
“That you make it quick.”
“Such I cannot promise.” His lips curled back once again.
Ack, those teeth! Another shudder ran through her. In fact, once she started, she couldn’t stop shivering.
He looked up at the full moon that slipped under clouds as gauzy as a funeral shroud.
“Wait here.” And with that, he pulled back into his cave, disappearing into the shadows.
Cowardice pushed Einin to run. Honor made her stay. She squared her shoulders and prepared herself for the imminent bloody violence.
I chose this.
Not the stake and fire in the village.
Not the slow starvation in the hills.
I chose.
She had a choice, which meant she was free. She would die, but she would die free. The thought gave her courage, even if it couldn’t stop her shivering.
The man striding forth from the cave a few minutes later startled her.
She blinked hard at him, taking a quick step backwards. Where did he come from, so sudden like, in the middle of the night?
He stood a full head taller than she did, as wide in the arms and shoulders as a blacksmith. He wore black leather, reinforced with dragon scales in the front. His hair was the dark silk of the night, his teeth gleaming white as he flashed a predatory smile. His eyes, the color of a moonless midnight, traveled over her.
Unfamiliar sensations suffused Einin’s limbs, the invisible flames that licked her unexpectedly in the cool night surprising her. Even her shivering stopped.
The black knight stepped closer while surprise still rooted Einin to the spot. He had a slightly smoky scent, not unpleasant, similar to her father’s when in winter he used to smoke their hams and sausages and bacon. The knight’s features were rough and scarred. His eyes seemed immeasurably old, belying the obvious virility of his body.
He stood very close now, closer than was proper. Yet Einin could not protest, even had she found her voice, being the village wench that she was and he obviously a knight.
A knight as powerful as he… Hope unfurled inside her chest. “My lord, Sir Knight—” She wasn’t sure how to address him. She’d never had the occasion to address a man of such high station. “What have you done to the dragon?”
A smile curved up his sinful lips, lips such as were made to make maidens weep. “I’m one and the same. And I have a powerful hunger to slake.”
Einin was too stunned to move. She could do naught but stare at the dark fires that burned in the man’s eyes.
“I am the dragon Draknart,” he said as he reached for her. “And you are mine, Einin of Downwood, by your own promise.”
Chapter Four
Draknart expected the wee maiden to tremble with desire in his arm
s.
She kneed him in the groin.
“You black-hearted bastard! I’m not here for swiving! I’m here to die for my village.”
While she backed away, Draknart breathed evenly and deeply against the abrupt explosion of pain. The weakness of his cursed human form still caught him by surprise now and then, and it enraged him every time. As a dragon, he was nigh indestructible. His nightly turns as a man were a gross indignity. Although, he hadn’t minded it so much tonight—until the abrupt contact with Einin’s pointy knee.
He breathed through his nose and calmed himself before he spoke, so as not to frighten his amber-eyed maiden. “Why the rush, sweeting?”
She wore britches once again—probably to ease her journey. The hillside was steep in places, the bushes thick and thorny. He took a moment to admire her fine form. If the gods were kind, mayhap they’d see to it that britches would catch on among the young maidens and come into fashion someday. For a moment, he envisioned a world where the lasses ran around in the same tight leggings as the men, and he sighed to savor the image.
Einin eyed him with suspicion and undisguised loathing. “So you’re half man, then?”
“All the man a woman can handle and then some,” he reassured her.
Her expression only tightened. “But before, you were a dragon.”
“I am a dragon. Cursed to take human form from midnight to dawn,” he admitted his great shame. Cursed to be a halfling. ’Twas like a sickness, an insidious disease that had taken over his body. He’d spent a century searching for a cure, but to no avail.
For a moment, she only stared, then her voice grew unsure as she asked, “Old magic?”
He nodded and could smell her unease, a new layer of fear.
Her amber eyes grew wider and more luminous. She eased back another step. “To have been cursed by an ancient power… What have you done?”
Regaling her with old tales had not been among his plans for tonight. However, since she appeared disinclined to disrobe for his pleasure, and because in the slope of her shoulders he could see her exhaustion… Draknart turned and strode into the cave. “Come along.”
He resented his human form, so he didn’t indulge it. A couple of furs on the rock ledge where he slept were his only concession. He turned back before he reached that ledge, pleased that she followed.
The cave was shrouded in near darkness, but his human eyes retained the ability of his dragon vision. Einin’s hips swayed as she moved. She was well shaped, her body likely formed in fights with her brothers and in hard work. Slim but strong arms; lean but strong thighs.
She had the roundest breasts he’d ever seen. He ached to taste her, ached to have her on those furs next to him, under him. He pulled off the dragon-scale reinforced leather tunic he’d donned to dazzle her and tossed it aside, leaving only the linen shirt he wore underneath.
All for her. He rarely wore clothes at all while in his hated human form. ’Twasn’t as if he regularly entertained visitors.
She stopped a good distance from him, smartly out of reach, her jaw clenched, her loathing gaze stabbing at his heart.
Mayhap the sleeping ledge would be too soon.
He sat on a natural rock formation that resembled a throne he’d once admired in a church in a faraway city whilst eating the congregation. He’d done some of his best thinking here, in the middle of the night. He contemplated her with more attention than he’d ever given a human before. Their first meeting had not gone as he’d expected, and this second one was quickly following tradition.
She stood still and straight in the darkness of the cave, as if waiting for the executioner’s ax. When a single tear came into her eye, she quickly blinked it away. Her chest rose as she drew a deep breath, then said the most unlikely words, mumbled them to herself, but his sharp dragon hearing caught them. “I wish I were a runaway goat.”
He blinked at her. “You are a strange one.”
Her shoulders sagged as she nodded. “And twisted too.” Misery laced her tone, her fingers picking at her britches. “And unnatural. Out of the natural order.”
“No need to be too hard on yourself, sweeting. No human’s worth a spit. ’Tis the way the gods made your kind. Not your fault.”
Instead of thanking him for consoling her, she glared at him. When she glared, her fiery eyes sparkled even more. The dragon fire inside Draknart responded.
They watched each other in silence, Draknart with anticipation, Einin with her fiery resentment, likely seeing nothing more than a shadow among shadows. ’Twas that spark inside her that drew Draknart the most. How she’d fought him just a fortnight before! But now he wanted to tangle with her another way.
His body stirred. He leaned forward in his throne, ready to lift her astride his lap if she came to him. “Submit to me, Einin of Downwood.”
Her chin—managing to be delicate and stubborn at the same time—rose a notch. “I’m in your power. You have the strength to take me. But know this, Draknart, be you dragon or man, I will never submit to you willingly.”
Heat pooled in his loins at the hot flames that burned in her eyes. “You are mine, Einin, by your own pledge. I will claim your sweet body and savor it. You will plead with me not to stop.”
She rolled her eyes hard, thinking he couldn’t see her. And because he knew she couldn’t see him, he allowed himself a grin.
He let his gaze travel over her, thoroughly investigating every inch. “Take off your boots.”
“I will not disrobe for your lecherous eyes.” Her hands fisted at her sides. She was probably wishing for a weapon, regretting that she’d come unarmed.
He caught a small tremble in those hands. She was angry, but she was scared too. He meant to have her in another mood and soon. “I merely wish to see that you are not hiding any more knives.”
When she neither moved nor responded, he added, “You did have that hidden kitchen knife the last time. A longer blade, and you would have been the end of me, sweeting.”
Dragons were tough bastards as a lot, but a direct hit to the heart could be lethal if the blade was angled to slide between the scales. And the way he was now… Curse the goddess, Draknart’s human form had any number of deplorable weaknesses.
Einin lifted her chin. “I’ve given you my word. I will not fight. My life is forfeit.”
“Even so.”
With a furious frustrated growl, the likes of which he had never before heard from a maiden, she shoved off her boots and kicked them away. Her voice was pure bravado as she asked, “Satisfied?”
Not nearly so.
“Now shed your britches, sweeting. Best to make sure you have no knives stuck in the waist.”
Her full, ripe lips thinned as she pressed them together. He did not know whether her fingers trembled with fear or anger—probably a combination—but she did untie her britches, then let them drop. The worn material pooled at her ankles. She stepped out of them, another step away from Draknart.
Her coarsely woven shirt hung low enough to cover her to her knees, but as she moved, he did catch a glimpse of lean, naked thighs. His body hardened. He shifted in his seat. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time.
“Now come to me, sweeting.”
“I have pledged to return to you,” she said, standing immobile. “I have come to the dragon’s lair. I’ve come this far, but I will go no farther.”
Blood rushed faster and faster in Draknart’s veins as he watched her, the familiar urge to take rising in his blood, and at the same time, a strange new urge to make her unafraid. She was a brave lass, but courage had limits, and she’d reached hers. Instead of grabbing her in haste as Draknart’s body demanded, he slid off the rock throne and strode to her slowly, lifted her into his arms gently, though she flailed and fought, slippery as a spring eel.
“On my dragon’s honor, I will not violate you, lass.”
At last, she stilled. Did she believe him? He happened to have meant the words, but… Had no one told her that dragon
s had no honor? Did humans leave their pups completely uneducated? Draknart shook his head as he carried her to his sleeping furs.
He was large, even in his despised human form, and she a slight maiden. He took care not to hold her too tightly. He also reminded himself not to rush his seduction, even if his body was hard and ready.
She was stiff as battle armor in his arms, and as cold. He looked forward to softening her and filling her body with his heat. He’d never before met a woman he wanted so much to savor.
At least, not this way.
Einin held on to her fury so she wouldn’t give in to her fear. Draknart. Even in his human form, he was a great beast.
“I’ve come for a swift end, you perverted spawn of Satan!” She scrambled away from him on the stone ledge until her back hit the cave wall. “Is a quick death too much to ask?”
He seemed intent on debauching her in the night before devouring her in the morning. And what if he did not eat her the very next morn? The blood ran out of her head at the thought. What if he kept her to torture her for who knew how long? To be at his mercy like this… Never!
The moon dipped to an angle where its silver light now shone straight into the cave, and she could see better. Draknart watched her, reclining in the middle of the “bed,” blocking her only path of escape.
The soft furs of his bedding stood in stark contrast to the man, with everything hard about him. She fought to keep her gaze above his chest. He was larger than any of the men in her village, made entirely of muscle, the thick cords bunching and relaxing under his shirt as he shifted closer.
“No!” She snapped out the word, holding up her hands, palms out, to ward him off.
She didn’t truly expect him to obey, but he stopped and stayed where he was. Then he said, with exaggerated patience, “Einin, sweeting. I am a man, for the moment. You are a woman…”
“I have come to die. Not for…that!”
Yet his words echoed in her head. I am a man. And then a thought formed in her overwrought mind, one that brought a small spark of unexpected hope. Must be easier to kill a man than a dragon.