Bated: Reverse Harem Dragon Shifter Fairytale (Goldilocks and The Three Dragons Trilogy Book 1)

by Delia Castel

  Marigold’s nostrils flared. Even if she couldn’t fight back, she would not allow herself to be thrown around and throttled like the prey of a mad dog. Gritting her teeth, she spat, “Use your brain! How could this so-called weakling overpower two dragons?”

  “You b-bitch!” His words were an anguished roar.

  Marigold’s blood ran cold, and her skin puckered into goosebumps. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the endless, inhuman sound, which rattled her eardrums and penetrated her bones to the marrow. Matheson’s grip became so tight, it seemed like his body was expanding. Her breath caught. Was he turning into a dragon? A whimper escaped her throat. He would tear her apart with his claws! She made herself go limp. Complete and utter submission was an effective way to avoid further enraging shifters. It had saved her on many occasions when she had been at the mercy of the House of Corrections guards.

  Footsteps thundered down the stairs towards them, accompanied by the soft glow of light. Berrin emerged from around the corner holding a lantern. “What the name of Vulcan do you think you’re doing? Unhand her!”

  “She was trying to escape!” Matheson spat.

  “Is that any reason to kill her? She can’t breathe!”

  Marigold’s heart rattled in her chest. Berrin needed to do something, now, or his brother would turn into a fire-breathing monster and kill them both. Reasoning with a madman wouldn’t work! As the shifter’s arms squeezed out the last of Marigold’s air from her lungs, she shot Berrin a beseeching look and mouthed, ‘Please.’

  A low growl rumbled from Berrin’s throat, and his eyes shone like blue fire. “Let. Her. Go.”

  Marigold’s eyes bulged. In theory, she had known Berrin was a shifter, but seeing those eyes burn brighter than the lantern made the bottom fall out of her stomach. At that moment, the fury in sweet, handsome Berrin’s eyes made Matheson’s hotheadedness seem cool in comparison.

  The crushing arms released her, and Marigold fell to the ground, landing on her hands and knees. She gasped, sucking in lungfuls of air through an already sore and ravaged throat. A surge of lightheadedness overcame her senses, making her arms collapse at the elbows. She rolled to the side, out of the way of the two scuffling males. Whatever insults they were hurling at each other were drowned out by her pulse pounding in her ears. Hiccuping sobs escaped her throat. Although the violence had been mild compared to what she had endured earlier, the fear of immolation had been more than she could bear.

  The two brothers continued to fight until Berrin punched Matheson with so much force, he fell onto his back. The ginger-haired dragon snarled and scrambled to his feet. “You would side with this trash against your own brother?”

  “Polaris told you to stay in your room,” said Berrin, his voice as hard as steel. “Not only did you disobey his order, but you brutalized an innocent young lady. I am truly ashamed to call you my brother.”

  Marigold pressed her hand on her chest, her face slack. Glad that she was sitting, she glanced from Berrin to Matheson, not quite believing the vehemence behind Berrin’s words. No one had ever spoken up for her, let alone defended her with such vigor. She had only known the youngest dragon for mere hours, yet he was proving to be more loyal than the fiancé who had sold her out to the shifters in exchange for a reward. In the lantern light, Berrin’s caramel-blond hair glistened like honey. The fire in his eyes had dimmed to the barest of flickers, but with his fists balled and ready to strike, he radiated his desire to protect her from Matheson’s wrath.

  Matheson backed into a pile of barrels stacked against the wall. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  Marigold glared at the violent hypocrite but held her tongue.

  “I could say the same for you.” Berrin walked back to Marigold, landing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Marigold pressed her lips together and offered him a hesitant nod. If she spoke, she might break down. Everything she had endured—from fighting off Poda in that brothel to being nearly choked to death twice in this mansion—piled on her chest. It was too much. If anyone else attacked her, she was ready to commit murder herself.

  Berrin’s brows drew together. “No words can express my sorrow for your suffering at my brother’s hands. I should have—”

  “Why are you treating the murderer of our parents like an honored guest?” Matheson roared.

  The General emerged from around the corner still clad in his uniform. Rage made his eyes burn like smoldering coals. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Berrin and Matheson spoke at the same time. He held up his palm, silencing them both. “Two scrolls arrived this evening: one from Uncle Hertz, and the other from the Chief Forensic Wizard. Marigold’s account of events is consistent with the reports. Mother and Father’s injuries took place in the early hours of the morning. According to Uncle Hertz’ report, Marigold escaped parole in Boreas an hour before sunset.”

  “I could have told you she was innocent.” Berrin’s arm wrapped around her back, and he helped her to her feet.

  The General nodded. “She would have still been traveling down from Boreas at the time of the attack.”

  A shuddering breath escaped Marigold’s throat. Finally! She glared up at Matheson and bared her teeth. “What do you have to say to me now?”

  Matheson’s eyes gleamed with malice. “She could be an assassin who took on someone else’s identity.”

  Berrin shook his head and gave her waist what felt like a warning squeeze. “I saw her disembark from the Boreas stagecoach myself, so I know what time she arrived in Austellus. Marigold’s presence at the murder scene was an unlucky coincidence.”

  Marigold stilled. She was certain that Berrin’s coach had arrived after hers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and warmth spread through her chest. He had lied to protect her! She turned in his supportive embrace and offered him a smile, which he returned with a softening of his eyes. For the first time in nearly two years, hope fluttered in her heart.

  “If she wasn’t involved…” Matheson’s voice broke. “Then who killed Mother and Father?”

  Marigold turned. Matheson’s posture sagged, and he rubbed at his eyes. The dragon reminded her of some of the inmates who had suffered so much at the hands of the officers that they had surrendered to defeat. A pang of sympathy struck her heart, and she leaned against Berrin’s side. She would never know what it felt like to have parents. Right now, her closest relationship was with Holle, who had taught her many skills she would need as a free woman. Her thoughts drifted to the wellbeing of her friend. Marigold hoped she was coping on her own.

  “Are you all right?” murmured Berrin.

  She gave him the tiniest of nods. “It’s been a terrible couple of days, but I’ll survive.”

  The General stepped forward, placing an arm around Matheson’s shoulder, and led him around the corner. The echo of two sets of footfalls receded up the stairs, accompanied by the General’s whispered words of comfort.

  “Once again, I am truly sorry.” Berrin withdrew his hand from her waist, and Marigold felt the loss of his touch. “My brother’s behavior was unforgivable.”

  She raised her shoulders. “I might have done something similar in his situation.” A memory of the day Lord Arctos confiscated her bracelet resurfaced. At the time, she had gone mad with the grief of having lost her only connection with the mother she had never known. For two years, she had planned and schemed, even working for the aristocrat for the chance to steal it back. Even after she had been caught and imprisoned, the bracelet had consumed her thoughts. An obsession with an inanimate object was nothing compared to the love someone had for a real parent. “I’ve experienced worse than your brother.”

  Alarm crossed his features, but it was so fleeting, she almost missed it. Berrin offered his hand. “I didn’t agree with having you locked up, you know.”

  “Thank you.” She took his proffered hand, and a gentle warmth spread in her chest.

  His brow crinkled. “Whatever for?�
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  “You did what you could to take care of me.”

  “It was the least I could do. We might be dragons, but we are not monsters.”

  Marigold nodded, not knowing how to respond to such a comment. She glanced towards the door. If she walked back to the stagecoach station, she might reach it by dawn. Then, she could rest for a while, pretending to wait for a coach and then head towards the port. It wouldn’t take long for her to find a ship headed for Habilis and stow away. While it was a dangerous venture, nothing could be as perilous as being held captive by an enraged dragon.

  She gave Berrin a wistful smile. He was the type of male most women dreamed of: tall, handsome, kind and protective. Now that the brothers were assured of her innocence, she wouldn’t have minded having Berrin’s arms around her while she slept on a fancy, feather mattress. A flush crept to her cheeks. Was she so desperate for affection that she would fall into bed with the first kind male she’d encountered? The ache in her heart gave her a resounding yes. Averting her gaze from his shining, blue eyes, she said, “Thanks for your help, but it’s time for me to go—”

  “It’s too late for you to leave.” He placed both hands on her shoulders, his gaze boring into hers. “I insist that you stay in one of our guest rooms. In the morning, I will give you anything you need for your journey.”

  Matheson’s angry bellowing from afar made her jump. Glancing away, she shuddered at the thought of being cornered alone in a room with that hot-tempered lunatic. Even if he stayed in his own room, she didn’t want to sleep in such close proximity to him. Taking her chances on the road was far safer. She was about to voice this, when Berrin tilted her head up, so their eyes met.

  “A young lady caught walking the streets at night will be subject to rogues, drunkards and opportunists. Any law-enforcement officer could pick you up for vagrancy. If your wanted poster has already reached Austellus, it would be a simple matter to hand you over to Boreas officers at the border. Please, don’t venture out alone.”

  Marigold chewed on her bottom lip. All that prison talk about Governors sending each other letters to negotiate cross-district bounty hunts meant nothing. The Governor of Austellus was dead. Staying overnight now seemed her best option. Her stomach dropped. If she did that, Matheson would strangle her while she slept.

  There was only one way she could survive the night in this mansion. Peering up at Berrin through her lashes, she rubbed at her throat. “Can I sleep in your room? I wouldn’t feel safe otherwise.”

  His cheeks reddened. “I-I only have one bed.”

  She placed a hand over his chest. “One is all we’ll need.”

  Chapter 5

  Berrin stared down at Marigold’s shimmering eyes. In the lantern light of the wine cellar, they looked like orbs of the finest jade. With his heart thudding louder than the beat of a marching drum, he wondered if she felt its reverberations under that delicate palm. Her cheeks bloomed in a way that stirred his loins and tightened his breeches. Swallowing hard, he tried to tamp down the panic ringing through his insides. What in the name of Vulcan had she meant? Did she need his protection from Matheson or did she want more?

  Marigold lowered her lashes, and her hand fell from his chest. “If it’s too much trouble, I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

  The loss of contact made his heart ache. Straightening, he inclined his head as gallantly as he imagined Polaris might act if a beautiful lady had beseeched him to share his bed. “O-of course not.” He cleared his throat. “My room is at your disposal.”

  She gazed up, offering him a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

  “After you.” Berrin gestured towards the staircase.

  Marigold stepped in front of him, picked up her skirts, and ascended the stairs. He followed, keeping a respectful distance. Terror clenched his heart in a punishing grip, squeezing it against his ribs. In all his time at St. Fafnir’s, he’d had limited contact with young ladies. He had not even kissed a woman, let alone lain with one. Raising his lantern, he gazed ahead at Marigold’s retreating form. The dandelion-colored light made the blonde curls cascading down her back shine like gold florins, and he wondered why such a beauty would choose to rest with him and not Polaris.

  His hand shook over the oak banister, and he took each step with a gait made awkward by his burgeoning arousal. What would he do if she wanted him to perform? His only formal knowledge of carnal matters came from husbandry classes, where he learned about the mating habits of farm animals. The professors at the Academy had been a prudish bunch, focused on propriety and gentlemanly ways. They did, however, inform the upper class that a dragon’s instincts would take over when he was presented with his mate. A surge of irritation made his nostrils flare. In the presence of a delectable lady who wanted to share his bed, he had become tongue-tied. All of that advice about letting the instincts take over now seemed glib.

  At the top of the stairs, she paused before the door and turned. Her frightened eyes met his, and his steps faltered. Shame wrapped around his throat, expelling all thoughts about mating. This was a time of mourning and comfort, not seduction. Marigold was frightened out of her wits and needed a strong shoulder to cry on. With the tightness in his breeches now dissipated, he ascended the stairs two at a time and reached her at the top. “Marigold. Please, don’t be frightened. I will keep you close at all times.”

  Her pretty lips curved into a smile. “I appreciate that. Your presence makes me feel safe.”

  Berrin’s heart flipped. He reached out and pushed open the door to the ground floor hallway. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he guided her out of the stairwell. “Let’s go up.”

  They headed over the white, marble hallway towards the grand staircase, passing oil paintings of ancestors clad in costumes from different historical periods. Before the servants had left for festival week, they had arranged giant vases containing magnolia flowers mingled with other blooms from around the gardens. Berrin glanced at Marigold, hoping this display of beauty would calm her nerves.

  He was thankful that the route would avoid the parlor in which Mother and Father had been killed. Blinking hard, he swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. Now was not the time to curl into a ball and wail. Heroes such as Polaris could not afford to fall victim to their emotions when their troops relied upon them to be strong. He stared down at Marigold who met his gaze with wide, glistening eyes. His heart twisted. The poor lady seemed broken by her experience.

  Berrin straightened and pushed aside the last of his morbid thoughts. Marigold needed his protection, and he would be strong for this brave, beautiful creature who had suffered so much.

  At the foot of the stairs, the gas lanterns brought to his attention the stiffened, blood-stained patches in her clothing. His stomach churned with a mixture of revulsion and guilt. He had not even thought of offering her a change of outfit.

  As they ascended the grand staircase, he asked, “Would you like to bathe before retiring?”

  A relieved breath escaped her lips, and she gazed up at him with eyes that seem to shine with admiration. “I would love to!”

  His lungs expanded with a satisfied breath, and he smiled back. “It would be my pleasure.”

  The staircase separated into two sections: one leading to the east wing of the mansion, and the other to the family’s living quarters.

  As they approached the bathroom, a sharp scent tickled his nostrils. Berrin furrowed his brow. In all the times he had visited the Auburn mansion, he had never noticed the smell of the hot water. He glanced down at Marigold, whose serene expression indicated she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind the odor. “I hope you like the bathroom,” he murmured. “It isn’t the most relaxed of spaces.”

  The room in question was an expansive, marble-tiled space, complete with a sunken pool on the far-left corner, large enough for a dozen humans or two fully-transformed dragons. Surrounding the rim of the pool were sculptures of maidens pouring the contents of their jars into its depths.

 
; He guided Marigold inside and entered. “The water comes from a nearby hot springs… That’s why it smells of sulfur.”

  She glanced around, eyes wide, arms wrapped around her front. “I can’t smell it.”

  “Oh.” Of course. Human senses were not as refined as those of dragons. Berrin walked across the room and pulled on a red, silken cord. Hot water cascaded out of the stone maiden’s jars and into the bathing pool. “Pull this cord when the bath is full, but don’t worry about spillage. There are holes in the floor that drain the overflow.”

  She glanced up at him and nodded, an expectant look in her hazel-green eyes. Berrin’s heart jumped. Did Marigold expect him to make an advance? He wouldn’t even know how to start! Her hands rose, fingertips skimming over the knot at the neckline of her blood-soaked dress.

  He startled, and a flush crept across his cheeks. She had been waiting for him to leave in order to disrobe! “I-I-I apologize! Forgive me!” He backed out of the bathroom, bending nearly double to compensate for the stiffening of his member. Despite his mortification, images of an unclothed Marigold whirled through his mind. “E-enjoy your bath!”

  He pulled the door shut and bumped into another body. Berrin spun to find Polaris holding a small bundle of what appeared to be women’s clothing. His dark hair hung loose on his shoulders, and he seemed less imposing without the red, General’s jacket. “I found these in the delivery room. They are brand new.”

  Berrin’s jaw dropped. “I was only…”

  Polaris placed the items against Berrin’s chest and raised an eyebrow. “Set the girl up in an apartment in Sigma Central,” he said in a voice low enough not to be heard above the running water. “If you are serious about a career in the King’s Regiment, you cannot get attached.”

  The flush on his cheeks deepened and spread down his neck. He spluttered. “I would never keep Marigold as some kind of mistress!”