by Mandy Rosko
Safe sex at its finest. But the warmth and the burning and the spreading of nerve-nuking fires under her skin did come, quickly, too, and she released a breathy moan.
Then she looked down and saw him similarly enjoying himself, his head thrown back against the golden cloth he used to protect the tree, his jaw open just a little as he breathed at an unsteady pace. She laughed.
Confusion sprang through the flush of pleasure on his cheeks. “What is so amusing?” he asked in a huffing, panting voice.
She bit her lip as one especially strong sensation rocked her. Then she got back into focus. “I bet you’re glad you married me now.”
One of his gloved hands left her breast and smoothed its way up to her face, cupping her cheek.
It must have been just the natural impulse, the nearness of it, but she kissed his palm, and his fingers, again and again. Even sucking his thumb into her mouth. It was thicker because of the glove and tasted of leather, but damn, her mouth needed something to do, too.
Then she felt it coming on her, that pressing weight and heat that always signaled the end. She thrust against him harder, desperate for more friction against her clit. She bit down on his thumb, but Aaron made no complaints even as he yanked it away.
She wasn’t really a talker during her sexual encounters, but he seemed to take all her body language as hints enough for what was happening to her. He used both of his hands to work on the clasp of her belt, flinging it open, then her button, and finally dipped his hand inside, using his fingers to add more pressure against her sex so that she was now pushing down and against him. She wanted those fingers inside her. She could feel her juices making them wet, but she couldn’t voice her wanting, not with the risk of waking the other two elves and ruining this time alone with Aaron.
Despite her concerns, Dawn couldn’t even pull together enough self-control to listen for their heartbeats to determine if they still slept. Not when her heart and Aaron’s were drumming so loudly, so in tune.
She shuddered hard and let go, unable to control herself as she cried out just how damn good that felt. She would have fallen on top of him had his hands not shot out to stop that from happening.
“Sorry,” she said, noting the slight panic on his face. It wasn’t like she was about to fall on his face or anything, but she still wanted him to be comfortable with what they were doing.
He brushed it away quickly. “I would ask you to finish what you have started, princess.”
She laughed at him, doing her best to keep the sound quiet, but when were real laughs ever quiet?
Well, if the two bodyguards woke up then, they were going to learn how to plug their pointy ears really fast.
Dawn shimmied off him, the wet in her pants uncomfortable now, and brought her face closer to his nether regions.
He lifted himself onto his elbows in time to watch her place a soft kiss over his clothed cock. Little Aaron jumped at the attention. Big Aaron released a tortured, longing sound.
Right. She probably shouldn’t tease him about doing that. Could she ever even do that? She could probably get her hands on some condoms, even on this island out in the middle of the ocean, but the second it touched him, it would turn into gold. Would he be able to feel anything through a solid gold condom?
That was a weird thought right there.
“Dawn, please,” he begged, pulling her back into the trees.
“What are you wearing beneath this? Any underwear?”
Confusion clouded his features. He even looked around a little. “Under what?”
Safe to say the whole medieval thing did not cover boxers and briefs. He had to be wearing a second pair of pants, otherwise the ones Dawn had just put her lips on would have been gold long ago.
She found his waist. The breeches were held together with strings.
“No,” he said, putting his hands on hers when she started to work on them.
“Trust me.” She smiled at him as dazzlingly as she could. Considering her fangs, and the general distrust elves had toward vampires, she was kind of stunned that it worked.
His hands slipped away, allowing her to do whatever she wanted to him, bringing a flutter inside her.
She got the breeches—pants, whatever they were—down with his help, and, yeah, there was another pair underneath, their sole purpose to protect the ones above. They weren’t solid gold like the snake, but definitely made of the real deal. The giant bulge underneath was certainly real.
She wondered what it felt like against his cock. Was it rough, scratchy, itchy? Not that she was about to start up a question and answer session while he was waiting like a saint for her to begin.
Still, it couldn’t be too much of a hindrance on his pleasure considering how she’d ridden him not two minutes ago, but just in case it felt as bad as it looked, she went for the gentle approach.
He stared at her expectantly as she put her hand on him. His eyes slid shut and head fell back. There was never a more handsome sight.
“I wish I could touch you here for real,” she said. His eyes flew open. She grinned. “I wouldn’t be just using my hands either.”
That seemed to do it for him. He threw his head back so hard she heard the conk of it against the tree branch. His moan was a twist between satisfaction and pain as his cock jumped and spurted beneath her hand.
Dawn kissed his thigh, his chest, and up to his shoulders. This was by far the most intimate thing she’d ever done with any man, and the unfortunate part was that everywhere her lips touched had to be clothed. He didn’t seem to mind. His gloved hand touched her hair, massaging her scalp. That felt nice.
She settled next to him. Nothing as normal as laying her head beneath his chin, but she did rest her head on his covered chest, allowing him to continue to play with her hair.
“I bet most wives don’t have that much fun with their husbands,” she said, pleased with herself.
Aaron didn’t say anything, and although she couldn’t remember drifting off, she must have, because when she opened her eyes next, he was gone. It was hotter than hell with the sun rising, and her spider senses were tingling.
A wonderfully warm scent tickled her nose, and the rapid beating of a heart somewhere nearby indicated exactly what that scent was.
Dawn sat up, adjusted her tank, belt, and leather jacket, grabbed her helmet, and leapt from her spot in the tree. She landed with bent knees on her feet and, at a run, proceeded to follow her nose.
It was a heartbeat, a strong, heavy drumming that could hardly belong to any insect or rabbit, but was also too small for another monster snake. Another elf? Could be.
All heartbeats were unique to their species, and even the person to whom the heart belonged—Aaron’s heart had a beat that sang gently in her ears.
Not the time to be thinking about that.
Right, time to identify the heartbeat. The problem was that she couldn’t. This heartbeat was about the same size as of those in her party, but the sound was muffled, as though it were beating under a stack of quilts, and the pace was a fast drum that hinted at either stress or too much exercise.
Whoever it was, elf, or something else, she didn’t know them.
Whatever, it didn’t matter. Dawn hadn’t forgotten about the dragons who had supposedly taken Aaron’s father. If it was a threat to anyone in her group, she planned to destroy it as quickly as possible.
The drumming sound became stronger as she neared it, louder in her ears, and she slowed her pace to better sneak up on it. She pushed past the branches and scratching shrubs she was growing to hate. Every twig seemed to snap under her feet.
Whoever it was, whatever it was, hadn’t heard her because otherwise it would’ve run off as she closed in.
Dawn abruptly halted as she came within sight of a small clearing in the trees. Just ahead, on the other side of the open space, was a mossy boulder. Dawn sensed the heartbeat and smelled the blood coming from the other side of the rock. What was back there? Was it too weak to move?
The scent of blood had grown stronger, not enough to suggest anything life threatening, but it was definitely there. Could it be Aaron’s father? Could he have escaped the dragons and made a run for it in the forest?
As an elf, he should have survived anything the trees would have thrown at him—giant snakes notwithstanding—but if the dragons had hurt him…
She stepped forward, then abruptly leapt back with a hiss, nearly crashing on her ass with pain and clutching at her face as though a whip’s lash had licked it.
“Ugh, Jesus.” She pulled her hand away from her cheek. Speckles of blood dotted her palm. The sun. Perfect.
She should have been paying more attention, should have sensed the heat at the very least, but whatever was hiding behind that rock had taken all of her focus. The canopy was not as thick here as it had been in the rest of this forest, and a stray breeze had ruffled the leaves above, allowing a small ray of UV horror down to ground level to smack her face just as she walked right under it.
Her whole face hadn’t been burned. She could tell that much. But the space that had been stung like a bitch. It began at her chin and worked its way up her cheek, before curling into her eyebrow. She hated to even think about what she looked like, but thank God it had missed her eye. It would’ve healed, but being blinded in one eye would make her all but useless to Aaron.
She surveyed the spot again, this time watching patiently until another warm breeze ruffled the trees. A hundred glimmers of light passed over the grass, fallen tree logs, and soft baby trees still spouting from the earth that were meant to replace the dead ones. It almost looked like a Thomas Kinkade painting.
Dawn waited for the wind to pass and the trees to still, blocking out the sun once more, though she had to admit the scene had been prettier gleaming like it had been doused in a thousand diamonds. She took a breath for courage and took a step.
A light but strong hand yanked her back. Her fist flew on autopilot right into Aaron’s cheek. It was really saying something for the strength of elves that his entire body didn’t launch backward at the blow. Her fist pillowed in his cheek didn’t do much for his looks, however. Good thing she used the glove that had already been turned gold.
She pulled back. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
He nodded, his lips curving even as he rubbed his cheek with two fingers. “Whilst there are better ways to be greeted by one’s wife, I am well. Ye, on the other hand, should show more restraint.” His eyes stared hard at the burn on her face then went down her the hand she’d punched him with. “The next time ye may not have so much luck.”
“This does not explain yer presence hither,” Kehn said, appearing from trees the way the elves seemed to always do. Bell was at his side. Both sets of their eyes darted from her to Aaron. They’d seen her punch him, but were choosing to ignore it, however grudgingly. They, too, knew the risk of putting her hands on their prince, only they weren’t being so nice as to remind her of the dangers of that.
Aaron looked at her, also awaiting an answer. She nodded toward the boulder, still shimmering in the flickering sunlight. “Someone’s sitting behind the rock.”
They all leaned to the side to see beyond her.
“The trees have not told me of any presence.” Bell said, her shoulders suddenly stiff with irritation.
“Isn’t that why you brought me along?” Dawn asked. “There’s a quick heartbeat, and I can smell blood.”
She didn’t need to explain to them the dangers of the scent of blood in the air.
Aaron shoved something into her gut and stepped around her. She barely caught it before it fell. Her helmet. He must’ve picked it up after she dropped it when the sun scorched her.
Aaron quickly made for the boulder. “Father?”
Bell and Kehn followed, but he’d already made it around the rock. His body stilled at whatever he saw.
Dawn clumsily shoved her helmet over her head, careful not to irritate the damn burn and jealous as hell that the elves could walk across the little clearing without fear of burning themselves. She didn’t bother with sliding the visor down as she ran across the clearing, keeping her face ducked low. Bell’s hands were at her mouth, and Kehn was shaking his head.
Dawn ran around the lot of them, begging to God that she wouldn’t find a dying pointy-eared man in a crown.
It was nearly as bad. Her heart lurched. “Jesus.”
A boy. It was a kid. Not a king. He couldn’t have been older than ten years, and he was badly messed up. He wore only a red tank and beige shorts that stopped at the knees—curiously modern—and no shoes on his overly large, black-crusted feet.
His flimsy clothing gave her a better view of the dried blood that trickled down his arms and legs, and the broken wings dangling from his back, which were still wet and beginning to attract flies.
His breaths came heavy from his chest. The boy stared at Dawn through half-lidded eyes. She could smell fear as he held his arms for warmth—one of which looked to be oddly twisted—but exhaustion prevented so much as a movement of protest against them, or even a scream.
Chapter Eight
Aaron stepped away from the child, still fearful as ever of touch, despite Dawn’s lesson to him the night before. “Bell, Kehn, lift the boy up. ’Tis damp there, and he is cold. Bandage his wounds before any predators catch his scent.”
Dawn stepped back while Kehn lifted his bloody body. Bell gingerly took the wings, holding them to keep the bit of skin they were holding on by from ripping off entirely.
They were as large as the kid himself, bat-like. No feathers or anything, just skin and purple veins. They were a dark red along the bony joints—with actual bone popping out in some places—but pinker along the paper-thin middle, the veins spidered along inside the spots that hadn’t been shredded.
She didn’t need to ask to know this kid was part of the dragon clan she’d heard so much about. But she hadn’t expected to see something that looked fragile. This kid was injured, bleeding, his crying slowly becoming louder as he realized he was in no danger in this new company. Even a clan of dragon warriors started off as children.
The boy hissed and cried out as Kehn and Bell attempted to move him, fresh tears creating lines in the dust and dirt that caked his face. Bell whispered to him gently, attempting to soothe him, but to little effect.
Bell removed her cloak and tore it into strips with her dagger. The boy’s eyes fell on the knife and stayed there, his chest heaving and muscles clenching as he suddenly became silent.
“She’s not going to hurt you,” Dawn said. If his heart pumped any harder, he’d pass out, and that wouldn’t be good.
Actually, maybe it would be merciful to just let the kid clock out.
The boy turned his eyes to her, and his panic seemed to subside—the slow of his heart and blood a great indicator of this—but now he looked at her curiously, like he had when he’d first seen her. He squinted his eyes and cocked his head as though he’d never seen a woman in black leather and a motorcycle helmet before.
She somewhat doubted that considering his modern summer clothes. Dragons obviously came and went from the island as they pleased. Maybe he’d just never seen anyone, who wasn’t another dragon, who was dressed like her before on this island.
Well, at least his curiosity kept him still and occupied while Bell poured the last of her water over his wounds. She cleaned them as best she could with the little she had before taking the strips of her cloak and wrapping the boy’s cuts and scrapes.
“Kehn, find more redthorn for his wounds,” Aaron commanded. “The water will hardly do, and we need what little we have left.”
Kehn nodded and disappeared into the brush, and for the first time, Dawn no longer thought his instant obeying of orders was robot-like and annoying.
Aaron watched as Bell worked on the boy, his eyes hard and focused on every hitch in breath and tear that fell. He didn’t take off any of his layers to make them into makeshift bandages, but Dawn didn’t miss the
way his hands gripped his robes. Aaron settled for pulling out a small loaf of bread wrapped in leaves and a golden waterskin from his sac and handing them to the boy.
The kid snatched the bread first and dug in with savage intensity, hardly noticing how the giver of his gift all but jumped back when there was no longer a need to be so close. Dawn took the thousand-dollar waterskin from Aaron’s hands and set it within reach of the kid when he went no closer.
Bell worked gently, but didn’t go near his wings, despite how desperately they needed treatment. Maybe there just wasn’t enough fabric to do anything for them. That or she didn’t know how to go about mending them.
Bell finished by tying the kid’s bad arm in what passed for a sling, before coming to sit on her knees in front of him. When he finished wolfing down the bread, she took his good hand into both of hers—despite his age, it dwarfed her hands—and she smiled.
Dawn watched as the boy fell into Bell’s eyes.
Bell had everything under control. She radiated calm and motherly affection from herself directly into the boy. At least he’d stopped crying. He looked like he was being hypnotized.
“Little one, are you feeling better now?”
“My back hurts,” he said, wiping his face on his shoulder, smearing the dirt all the more, and putting on a brave face now that he’d been tended to. “You’re elves?”
He hardly needed to ask with the way his orange eyes stared at her high, pointed ears suspiciously. He knew the answer.
“Some of us are,” she answered, leaving out what Dawn was. “My name is Bell, and these are my friends. Dawn, Kehn, who went to retrieve redthorn for ye, and His Highness, Prince Aaron. What is your name?”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly at the discovery of who Aaron was, but then his teeth chattered. A torn up cloak used as medical supplies still left him damp and bare, and he quickly forgot about his shock. “D–Devon.”