Romance: Bought by the Dragon: BBW Dragon Shifter Romance Standalone (Paranormal Romance) (Studly Shifters Book 2)

by Ashley Hunter

  BOUGHT BY THE DRAGON

  ASHLEY HUNTER

  Copyright 2016 by Ashley Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  in any way whatsoever, without written permission

  from the author, except in case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

  character, person, living or dead, events, place or

  organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not

  have any control over and does not assume any responsibility

  for third party websites or their content.

  First edition, 2016

  1: Betrayal

  “I’m going to kill you,” Jenna told her aunt quietly.

  Margaret Applewaite, of the New England Applewaites, stared in horror at her niece and went dead silent. Jenna knew that she had gone too far. You didn’t threaten Aunt Margaret. Aunt Margaret did the threatening. Aunt Margaret made the demands. Aunt Margaret, who had taken Jenna in at fourteen when her parents died and never let her forget it, was the one who was allowed to get angry.

  Not Jenna. Good for nothing, round, orphaned Jenna, from the bad side of the family, her hair dark and wavy instead of lank blonde like everyone else’s, and her eyes brown instead of blue.

  She was to be tractable, and quiet, and polite, and alway say thank you, and always be obedient, and never ever forget that if it hadn’t been for Margaret’s generosity she would have been a ward of the state at fourteen. And Jenna had gone along with these unspoken rules for five years.

  But after today, all bets were off. Because today, Margaret Applewaite, who considered herself a holy martyr for her kindness toward her undeserving niece, had sold Jenna off to a stranger in a foreign country.

  “You put me up as a mail order bride? Without telling me?” Jenna walked around the carved wooden farmhouse table, and Margaret quickly edged away along the same path, so that the younger woman ended up chasing her aunt around the table in slow motion.

  “You put me up to get bid on by foreign guys from all over the world, who pay your skinny butt money so that I can basically be their slave? What the Hell is wrong with you?”

  “Now Jenna, be reasonable. Raising you cost money. Money that I didn’t have to spare.” They were in Margaret’s kitchen, a grand affair like the rest of the house, with terrazzo tile on the floors, a massive stove with a polished copper hood above it, and French doors that looked out on a twelve acre garden. Jenna wanted to laugh, but stayed quiet, simply taking down a large copper frying pan from the hanging rack as she passed it, and continuing to chase her now increasingly nervous aunt. “I--I had to recoup that money somehow!”

  Jenna screamed and flung the pan at her head, then darted forward. Margaret ducked, going pale as cream. Jenna grabbed for her sleeve but barely missed, and Margaret’s eyes rolled in terror as she scuttled away. “I am your niece, not a bad business venture! You make me sick! What the hell were you thinking you would do, just tell everyone I ran away? You sold me off like a god-damned slave and you’re going to profit on it!” She looked around. Too bad the knife block wasn’t in easy reach.

  “Jenna, come now, this is unfair. I’m only doing what’s best for the family. You’re a burden. If you marry some rich foreigner, than he can take care of you and your family won’t have to support you any more!”

  “I could support myself fine on the waitressing job if you would get off my back about how it’s too low-class for a member of our family and actually let me drive to my shifts on time!” She grabbed a saltcellar and threw it; it smashed against the wall behind Margaret. “Instead, I get to come out in the middle of getting ready and find some guys in suits outside waiting to take me to the airport! Because you made this arrangement!”

  “Yes, they are waiting outside, and really, it’s quite rude to keep them waiting. Jenna--Jenna, no, that’s my crystal wine decanter, it’s over a hundred years old--” she ducked the flying crystal with a little shriek of outrage. “You ungrateful bitch!”

  “Oh I’m a bitch?” Jenna threw herself across the table, grabbing for her aunt, but Margaret was too quick. “At least I don’t sell off my own relatives!”

  Outside the kitchen, in the sumptuous two-story entryway, a trio of tall, muscular men in dark suits and sunglasses stood waiting. The continued yelling and crashes caught the attention of one of them, who turned to the others. “This situation is developing unexpected complications. I’m calling it in.”

  “Don’t,” the second one, who had dark red hair instead of black, but could otherwise have been a brother to the first. “His Majesty has given clear instructions on this matter. He selected the female himself. If we allow emotional matters between these two humans to interfere with our task, he will be...displeased.”

  The first one swallowed...then looked at the kitchen door and let out a tiny sigh. He exchanged looks with the others. The third, a pale-skinned blond, shrugged, and removed a syringe from the inner pocket of his suit coat. “I will intervene,” he told the others quietly. “Prepare the older female’s payment.”

  He stepped in through the door and moved quietly toward the pair of women, now locked in a physical struggle with the younger slowly winning. She looked better than her picture in person--creamy skin, dark hair, enormous brown eyes and a robust figure that the blond actually gave a glance-over as he casually watched her try to strangle her aunt. Strong, too. A faint smile came to his face...and then he slipped up quickly and brought the syringe down into the side of her neck.

  Jenna stiffened at the sting of the needle, and then went limp; he caught her, withdrawing the syringe and then lifting her easily. The aunt, who apparently was the sort to sell her relatives for money, gaped up at him.

  “We will be taking possession of the girl now. Your cooperation is appreciated. Your payment is being brought in. It is in cash. We will expect that you say nothing about our retrieval to anyone else, in perpetuity. If you speak of this, there will be consequences.” He stared at her coldly until she slowly nodded. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, your niece moved out as she had been planning to do, and you have not seen nor heard from her since.

  Another nod. The man took a deep breath, straightened, and carried Jenna’s limp form back out to where the others were waiting. The two men looked down at her, and the redhead smiled as well. They exchanged glances with each other. “The Prince is rather fortunate, I think,” commented the blond.

  “Given his history, I doubt he will see it that way. What should we tell the King about the aunt’s deception? We were led to believe that the girl was coming willingly.” The dark-haired one smoothed back Jenna’s hair from her forehead and frowned. “The Prince will not be happy about this.”

  “I’m not particularly happy about this,” the blond commented quietly, “But orders are orders.” He turned for the door, carrying the human girl gingerly, as if she was made of soap bubbles.

  2: Captive

  Jenna woke in chains. At first, as she sat up on the narrow, padded bench that lined the back of her Medieval-looking cell, she thought she might be dreaming. But the manacles on her wrists and ankles, attached to long, bright chains fastened to the wall by a high hook, were very real, and very heavy.

  She had trouble bringing her hands up above waist level wearing the thin
gs, and she knew that her walking speed would be reduced to a hobble if she tried. She looked around, peering through the bars of her long, narrow cell, trying to get an idea of who had her captive.

  Her last memory was of fighting Aunt Margaret in her kitchen...and then something had stung her neck. Now, she was in cage, in chains, like an animal.

  Worse, someone had been messing with her as she slept. Her waitress uniform was gone, replaced by a pale pink silk gown, sleeveless, with a slit up the thigh and a jeweled neckline. Her hair had been pinned up elaborately. Her feet were bare. She looked, for all the world, like she was being prepared for life as a harem slave. The fact that she was naked under the gown only reinforced the impression.

  She got up carefully, the chains rattling musically as she moved, and walked up to the bars. She wondered if she should call out; instead, for now, she leaned forward, and looked as far up and down the corridor as she could.

  The other cells lining the corridor were currently empty, but there was something in the hallway proper that should have been in a cage and wasn’t.

  She only caught a glimpse of something gigantic, scaly and cream-colored lumbering down the high-ceilinged corridor in her direction before she screamed reflexively and stumbled backward. The bench hit the backs of her knees and she sat down heavily, her whole body shaking. What was that? What the hell was that thing?

  The shuffle and click of its claws on the stone floor grew closer and closer. Eventually its head appeared at the bars, followed by multiple yards of neck. The head turned to her. It was a lizard’s head. It was a snake’s head. Its armored scales were pure reptilian, its jaw reminded her of an alligator’s, and its green-gold eyes had heavy, beaded lids like a gecko’s. Then the rest of its body lumbered into view: somewhere between gigantic lizard, horse and wolf, it bellied low to the ground as it moved, all four limbs muscular and flexible, tail lashing. Wings folded neatly over its back. Wings.

  It’s a dragon!

  She gasped for air as she stared at the thing, which reached for the lock with a hand-like paw from which hung an ornate and enormous key. It unlocked her cell; she whimpered and pressed back against the wall, eyes huge, as it came partway into the cell with her.

  The creature looked at her as she whimpered and tried to push her back further into the stone cell wall, then sighed through its nose. Reaching up, it unhooked her chains from the wall and grasped them in one paw, then backed up and started shuffling out, forcing her to cooperate like a dog on a leash. Fear and wonder almost drowned out her humiliation and resentment as she followed the creature down the dungeon hall.

  They left the dungeon and entered a broad main corridor, again of stone. She caught glimpses of sky outside the windows, and got the impression that they were in some kind of very tall tower of very ancient design. Other dragons, wandering here and there in the corridor, paused to look as she was led past them in chains.

  They came in every color; some were enormous enough to have eaten an elephant for breakfast, while others were long, lean and smaller, barely larger than a Clydesdale. Only the painful weight of the manacles kept Jenna aware that she was awake and not having a particularly vivid and bizarre dream.

  Up a set of massive stairs at the end of the corridor, a turn to the left--and suddenly the landing opened out into an enormous pillared room with a massive carved marble throne dominating the far end.

  Perhaps a dozen more dragons sat or lounged around the floor, talking to each other in hissing, rumbling voices. Creatures from some Medieval fairy tale, come to life. But surprisingly, what sat upon the throne, chin on fist and elbow on knee, was a man.

  He was tall and muscular, his back straight despite his advanced age, and his red-touched gray hair cropped close like a soldier’s. His skin was pale and grizzled, his eyes sunken and yet hard and sharp beneath his brows, and his mouth was a line.

  He wore a set of steel scale-armor that looked to have been hand-shaped onto his body, a purple cloak lined with green, and a gold crown in the shape of outstretched dragon wings. He stared at her in cold appraisal, something bitter and grudging in his manner as she was dragged up the carpeted aisle between the pillars and made to kneel before the throne.

  “This is the girl, then.” His voice was low and businesslike, as if women in chains were part of his day to day life. He got up off the throne and walked over to her, then around her, staring down at her. She kept her head down, though she wanted to stare back at him; her blood was boiling defiantly despite her fear and confusion.

  The King looked up at the cream-colored dragon that had brought her in. “Why is she chained?”

  “My Lord,” the thing rumbled in perfect English. “Her aunt deceived her and us as to her consent to this union. When she discovered what her aunt had done, she became extremely violent and had to be drugged.”

  The King looked amused. “Hmm. Spirit. Taran should find her an interesting handful.” He looked back at the creature holding her chains. “Well, it’s a little bloody ridiculous to keep her in dragon-chains. What is she going to do, gnaw us to death with her tiny teeth?” He pointed. “Go retrieve the keys from the dungeon keeper. If she tries to escape we can always drug her again.” He seemed unconcerned by the circumstances of her retrieval.

  Instead, he looked her over appraisingly as the pale dragon slithered out. “Not bad. No family, no significant social ties to her homeland, and she’s even properly healthy instead of one of these fashionable twigs. She looks like she could endure a hybrid pregnancy well. If, of course, my idiot son does not balk at the prospect yet again.”

  “Father!” rumbled one of the beasts, a crimson and orange creature with eyes like embers.

  The man cut his eyes over to the creature. “My other idiot son, Grimald. Not everything is about you.”

  The dragon approached them...and seemed to blur and shrink as he moved, until his form reshaped itself into a younger man, red-haired and powerfully built, in scale-armor like the king. “Father, Taran was very specific about wishing his bride to come to us of her own will--”

  The man standing over her rolled his eyes and turned to face Grimald, fists on hips. “Do you actually expect me to drop the entire venture on such an unimportant detail? She’s a mortal. Who cares what she wants? These primates barely know enough of what’s good for them to avoid wiping their entire race out on any given day.”

  The younger man, whose hair flowed down his back, frowned worriedly at his father and shook his head. “Taran won’t have an unwilling woman, need for an heir or not. He’s been very insistent.” He glanced at Jenna briefly, his expression almost apologetic.

  “Ridiculous.” The King looked down at her disdainfully as she stared between the two of them uncomprehendingly. “It took months to find that boy a suitable mate. I’m not wasting any more time because of his fickleness. This whole farce should have been resolved years ago.”

  Jenna had had enough. She could be dead in a moment for all she knew, but she also knew that there was nothing stopping this apparently sociopathic king from murdering her on a whim. So why not speak up for herself? At least she would die with her pride. “So, what then, you’re going to arrange to have me raped by a guy who doesn’t even know he’s raping me?” She glared into the King’s eyes.

  The man blinked in shock, then scowled. “Rape. Preposterous! The idea that human women should have a say in who takes them to wife is a new development, and not a very workable one at that. These are arranged marriages. It happened to me, my father and my father before him.

  That is how things work in our society, how they worked for most of your society’s history, girl, and it works. Do you truly believe that those sent to marry by their relatives are rape victims? Should my son be called one as well? Should I? For I assure you, breeding with some glorified ape was never my idea of a good time!”

  “Actually….” Grimald ventured. “Most interbreedings between our races are entirely consensual, but--”

  “Quiet, you,�
�� the King tossed back over his shoulder. “Don’t complicate the matter.” He turned back to Jenna. “Your being here with or against your will is no concern of mine, girl. My only interest is in getting my son a mate and an heir. Once that is done, what happens to you is of no significance.”

  “So I’m a breeding animal then.” She wanted to spit in his face. But behind the defiant rage, horror knotted up her belly. This was a thousand times worse than finding out her aunt had sold her off. The men she had been sold off to weren’t even human, they planned to keep her prisoner, and she was expected to not only have sex with one of them, but also bear his child. And nothing she could say would stop it.

  “Don’t look so scandalized. That has been the position of many human women throughout your race’s history.” The King looked her over appraisingly. “Yes, you will do nicely, I think. My son, you see, is an idiot romantic, and believes in love, devotion, and of course, consent.

  And as a result, he got his heart broken by one of you females, and has refused to marry for three years. Meanwhile, the welfare of my kingdom is at stake. Even dragons don’t live forever, and unless he takes a mate and produces an heir, Taran will not be accepted as King after my death. That is far more important than either of your whining about the need for willing acceptance of the matter!”

  “What the Hell are you talking about? Is everyone here insane?” She didn’t care any more. Let him kill her. It was a better fate than being used as a baby-maker by a bunch of inhuman strangers.

  “You call yourself a King? You kidnap people, you lie to your own son, you plan to rape me by proxy so you can get a grandson, and you want to tell me it’s for the good of your kingdom? If any of these people have a scrap of ethics they’d see that the major problem this kingdom is facing isn’t inheritance--it’s that the current king is a fucking sociopath!”

  Gasps and growls erupted around them. The King scowled thunderously, yellow light trickling from his pupils like those of a cat caught in headlights. “How dare you presume to speak to me like that! I could have you killed at any time!”