by Delia Castel
She whimpered at the loss of contact. “N-no… Please, do it again.”
Berrin let out a jubilant breath, and using both hands, he rolled her nipple and clitoris between his fingers. Marigold moaned, mentally urging him to go on, go faster, go harder, and never stop. She leaned into his chest, threw her head back and gasped. The pad of his finger skimmed her nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure to her core.
“Y-yes,” she said between gasping breaths. “That’s it.”
His hips rolled against her back, and he slid his length up and down her buttocks. His moans joined hers, and the sound of his pleasure, and the feel of his clever, questing fingers brought her to a pleasant ache. Her breathing quickened, her legs trembled, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. Throbbing, pulsing, and panting, she longed for release.
Berrin let out a low, guttural growl, which sent shivers straight to Marigold’s nub. All her built-up pressure exploded in one, massive wave of ecstasy. “Berrin!”
Wave after wave hit her body, making her back arch. Her toes curled, and her hips lifted out of the water. Spasms, which started from her core, radiated out to every extremity. Her entire being vibrated with pleasure, breaking apart, dissolving and becoming one with the pool.
When the contractions ebbed, she drifted back down through the water, panting hard. A satisfied breath eased itself out from between her lips. That had been wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. After so long without male attention, she needed to be opened and stretched and filled. She needed Berrin’s body inside her, covering her, claiming her.
“Oh, Mari… you make me so happy!”
The words and longing in his voice gave her pause. Tomorrow morning, she would leave for Habilis and never see him again. Was it fair for his first experience of sex to be with a fugitive who had needed a kind and handsome source of distraction and comfort? During those bleak months in the House of Corrections, hadn’t she regretted having taken up with Unwin? Hadn’t she cursed the day she'd accepted the traitor's proposal of marriage? If she had known he would betray her to the authorities for a paltry reward, she would have remained a maiden. If she was going to take Berrin’s virginity, she would make sure he knew her intentions.
But for now, a little more fondling wouldn’t hurt.
Pressing her back into his chest, she wriggled her hips. “Put a finger in me.” His thick digit slid between her folds, stretching her open. Marigold clenched her teeth as he entered her. “Pull it out.”
Berrin continued this rhythm, and Marigold panted, gritting her teeth. From his heavy breathing, and the speed of his thrusts against her buttocks, it was clear he was close to climaxing again. She rolled her hips, feeling that edge coming close. Once they had sated their passions and rested, she would see if he was amenable to giving her a good, hard, thrusting farewell in the morning.
Chapter 7
Matheson stormed through the upstairs hallway, clenching and unclenching his fists. How dare that whelp disrespect the family home? He kicked at an imaginary blemish in the marble-tiled floor. Did he even know what to do with the woman? Matheson was sure that St. Fafnir’s Academy for Male Fledglings didn’t teach the art of lovemaking. The human was wasting her time if she sought gratification from his little brother.
He passed Berrin’s bedroom and punched the door. Pain shot through his knuckles and radiated up the bones in his hand. When it reached his wrist, he flinched and snatched his hand away. The woman probably realized the extent of their family’s wealth and was using his little brother’s inexperience to secure herself a benefactor. No doubt, by noon tomorrow, Berrin would offer her a nice apartment in Sigma Central with a generous allowance for treats and fripperies.
The turning of a door handle behind him on the left made him pause. Polaris emerged from his room, still clad in most of his uniform. His dark hair hung loose on his shoulders, as though he had been interrupted getting ready for bed.
“Is there a problem?” asked Polaris. “You were shouting loud enough to wake the neighbors.”
“Do you condone his behavior?” Matheson pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
Polaris raised his eyebrows. “Whatever do you mean?”
“He’s in there, splashing about with that wench!” Matheson threw his arm out for emphasis. “Surely you see the wrongness in his actions.”
Polaris fixed him with a hard stare. Matheson supposed such an expression might be intimidating to the underlings in the King’s Regiment. He, on the other hand, had experienced far more ferocious glares from better dragons. Father, for instance, had been the sternest dragon in the whole of Austellus. But underneath his harsh demeanor was a kind and loving dragon, misunderstood by his unfeeling and self-centered sons.
Raising his chin, Polaris said, “Both Berrin and Marigold have had a trying day. If they can seek comfort in each other, who are you to judge?”
Matheson’s nostrils flared. How typical of Polaris to brush off such flagrant disrespect to Mother and Father’s memory with a remark that made Matheson look oversensitive. He clenched his teeth. “There is a time and place for debauchery, and if that brat—”
“Brat?” Polaris folded his arms. “I would hardly use that word to describe a dragon ready to commit his life in armed service to the King.”
Irritation surged into the marrow of his bones, worsening the ache in his hand. Matheson clenched his teeth. No matter what, Polaris always took Berrin’s side. “One would think you were the boy’s father with how you coddle him.”
Polaris raised a shoulder. “Who else was available to give him guidance? Berrin is eighteen now and old enough to make his own decisions. If Marigold’s company can ease his grief, what difference does it make to you?”
“I want her out,” Matheson spat. “As the heir to the Auburn estate, it is my right.”
“We will keep her here until we discover what she is hiding. I told you this before.”
Matheson's face drained. The events of earlier had been a blur of grief and anger and fermented wormwood. And the papaver he’d taken for pain relief hadn’t helped, either. Groaning, he rubbed his temples. Until now, he had dismissed the delusions and hallucinations of papaver as pleasant bonuses, as opposed to dangerous side effects.
He remembered having accused the girl of murdering Mother and Father. Now in the cold light of sobriety, it was clear that she could never have struck the fatal blow. “Do you think she is somehow involved?”
“Of course not.” Polaris gave him a curious look. “Do you not remember? I told you that her story didn’t completely make sense.”
Matheson rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t in the mood for his brother’s riddles but saying the wrong thing might reveal that he had gaps in his memory. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and adopted a neutral expression. “How so?”
“When you barged in on them just now, what did you see?”
Matheson jerked his head back. “If you think I went in there to peek—”
“No. I mean to ask if you found burn marks on her body.”
“I don’t understand,” said Matheson. “First you tell me she is innocent, and now you ask if I saw evidence of Mother and Father defending themselves with fire.”
Polaris stepped forward and placed a hand on Matheson’s shoulder. His indigo eyes bore into his soul, making Matheson’s pulse quicken. Polaris leaned in, intensifying his gaze. “Think back a few moments. How was her body?”
Matheson raised his brows. Had he been wrong about his brother? Polaris didn’t seem the type of dragon who would linger over lurid details. Especially when they involved the brother he doted on as if they were father and son. Polaris’ fingers dug into the meat of his shoulder, and Matheson’s memory dredged up the image of Marigold’s curvaceous, nude body. A bolt of arousal shot to his groin, making him harden. He shook off his brother’s grip and stepped away. “Her body was fine.”
Polaris’ gaze darted in the direction of the bathroom. �
��Come inside. No one should overhear this.”
Matheson furrowed his brow. If what Polaris had to say didn’t involve finding Mother and Father’s murderer, he would walk out. He stepped inside the room and sneered at the picture-less walls and lack of rugs adorning the wooden floors. Polaris kept the room bare as a way of broadcasting that he didn’t consider the Auburn mansion as home. With nothing but a dress uniform and a couple of swords on the stand providing decoration, the space was devoid of personality, much like Polaris himself. Matheson folded his arms. “What’s this all about?”
“Marigold slipped in dragon’s blood. Is that right?”
A lump formed in his throat. “Yes. It soaked her hands and the front of her dress.”
“Think hard. When you walked in on them in the bathroom, did you see any red marks on her skin?”
Despite his attempts to shove away the glimpse of full breasts, a tiny waist, and rounded belly, Matheson’s groin stirred. “There wasn’t a single blemish on her creamy, white skin.”
Polaris raised his brows. “Indeed?”
“What is this about?” he snapped.
“Dragons’ blood burns human skin.”
Matheson curled his lip. “Thank you for the anatomy lesson, big brother. Are you going to inform me that mermaids live underwater, too?”
“Save the sarcastic remarks for when you haven’t rotted your brain with fermented wormwood.” Polaris strolled to the little desk in the corner of the room containing a single piece of parchment, quill and ink-pot.
Fury burned through Matheson’s veins. “You sanctimonious—”
“Think!” Polaris whirled around, his eyes blazing. “If a human cannot be burned by dragon’s blood, what does that make them?”
“A nonhuman, I suppose?”
“Exactly. Marigold slipped in Mother and Father’s blood. When Berrin and I found you throttling her a—”
“Must you phrase everything so dramatically?” Matheson balled his fists.
“A dragon willing to beat a female of any species must accept the scorn that such a despicable act attracts.”
The self-righteousness fueling Matheson’s anger extinguished, leaving behind the dying embers of shame. They settled around his throat, making him gulp. Not wanting to see his brother’s smug expression, he turned his head and addressed a knot of wood on the oak floor. Heat gathered around his eyes, and he spat, “Have you never made a mistake? I drank too much wormwood, all right? Then I saw a woman escaping from our home, covered in blood. When I found Mother and Father dead in the parlor, I thought she had committed the murder. Even you would have reacted the same in that situation.”
A silence hung in the air, punctuated by the labored breaths forcing their way through Matheson’s throat. He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course perfect Polaris wouldn’t understand. Fermented wormwood hadn’t been the sole cause of his confusion. Prior to attacking the human, or whatever she was, Matheson had come from the Papaver Palace still under the influence of that wretched poppy extract.
Polaris sniffed. “I wouldn’t have gotten myself so addled that I couldn’t tell the difference between a hardened assassin and a terrified servant girl seeking help.”
Matheson folded his arms. “Did you call me to this desolate room to showcase your moral superiority, or have you yet to make your point?”
“Fine.” He let out a weary sigh. “All evidence points towards Marigold being something other than human.”
“What?”
“That is what I wish to discover. I believe her account of events, and I have contacted the Priory Orphanage in Boreas to obtain more information about her mother.”
Matheson’s brows drew together. “What will you do with this information”?”
“That depends entirely on what we find.”
Matheson nodded and left the room. If Polaris wanted to conceal his lust for the human by fixating on her origins, he wouldn’t comment. His two brothers could form a haremage with her, and he wouldn’t care, as long as they conducted their business somewhere other than the Auburn mansion. The most important thing in his life was to find Mother and Father’s killer. He walked down the hallway in the direction of the grand staircase. As he passed the bathroom, a lusty cry echoed from beyond the door. His feet stopped, and his heart accelerated like a cart hurtling downhill. Blood pooled in his groin, filling his cock until it ached and throbbed in time with his sore hands.
Berrin’s low, sexual growl rattled in his eardrums. Matheson’s face twisted, and he bared his teeth. Did they have no sense of propriety?
His member filled, and he clenched his throbbing fists. Damn her for distracting his brothers from what was really important. A soft moan filled the air. Flaring his nostrils, he stepped away from the door. He had to get away and focus.
“Berrin!” cried the wench.
Matheson curled his lip. Obviously, the little charlatan was faking her pleasure. Those loud noises were a form of insurance. If Matheson didn’t know what to do with her in the morning, she’d attract Polaris and live the pampered life of an officer’s mistress. Rubbing his sore hand, he nodded. She would be expecting him to stand outside the door with his cock in his hand, eager to poach her from his brother… Just like Kaida had stolen his heart, only to betroth herself to his cousin.
The female’s moan made his member pulse. Obviously, the papaver he’d taken earlier to dull his pain was now dulling his cock’s sense of propriety. Matheson scowled down at the traitorous organ tenting his nightshirt.“You, too?”
He walked away from the pair’s wretched noises, down the stairs, and into the parlor. The forensic wizards had cleansed the room of blood, fixed the furniture, and even removed all the scents, leaving the room sterile. There wasn’t a trace of Mother and Father left. Grief wrapped around his shoulders like a shroud, spreading and tightening and binding him until he could no longer breathe. A gasp escaped his throat. Polaris had been right. He should have stayed home instead of smoking and drinking and fornicating at the Papaver Palace. Maybe then, he might have lent his strength against his parents’ attackers. Now, the responsibility fell to him to seek and destroy the killers.
Moving around the room, he examined it for anything out of place. It was the usual, pristine parlor, restored somehow to its former glory. Shaking his head, he let out a frustrated breath. He imagined that the wizards had taken anything incriminating as evidence. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips and groaned. If this was the work of the Assassin’s Guild, they would have left nothing for the wizards to find. The Guild even employed their own wizards to nullify the spells of their forensic counterparts.
Perhaps he needed to read through Father’s journals and discover if he had any enemies. Matheson scratched his head and sighed. From there, he could identify the killer or whoever commissioned the murders.
As he walked out of the parlor and towards Father’s study, his mind drifted to the female. He could understand Berrin’s fascination with her. She was likely the first woman who had shown him interest. It would be easy enough to dismiss her as a young man’s experiment. But Polaris’ obsession with uncovering her origins rankled.
He bowed his head and padded along the marble-floored hallway. Pausing at Grandfather’s portrait, he sighed. The dragon’s wavy, light auburn hair reminded Matheson of his own. Maybe that was why Father had chosen him to be his heir. He bowed his head. It certainly wasn’t because he was cursed as a child, as Polaris had once spat at him in anger.
“What are you doing?” Polaris approached from the foot of the stairs.
“Thinking.”
“You should be asleep.”
“Do you know that Father once suggested bequeathing the estate to all three of us?”
Polaris folded his arms. “Outside of a haremage, I can’t see how that is possible.” Matheson raised and lowered his shoulders, and Polaris widened his eyes. “That was his idea? It would never work.”
“Negotiations with Kaida’s father failed. He wa
sn’t keen on marrying off his daughter to a haremage of dragons committed to the King.”
“Wait. Is that why she decided on cousin Kennett?”
A lump formed in Matheson’s throat. “She was a one-dragon female, but in the end, she wasn’t very discriminating on which dragon.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your pity is neither required nor welcome,” Matheson said through clenched teeth. Dragon males outnumbered pure-blooded females by a factor of five. Beautiful ones were rare, which was why Kaida’s betrayal stung.
“Father should never have—”
“She is no longer of consequence.” Matheson failed to mention that the loss of Kaida had made the agony of his childhood curse flare. Blistering pain had spread up his arm, settling into his heart. The anguish of not having her tormented him day and night, mingling with the agony of the curse, until he could not even rise from his bed.
Distilled wormwood had taken the edge off his torment, enabling him to seek out the most powerful painkiller in existence: papaver. He didn’t mention any of this to Polaris because it would only result in further outpouring of pity.
“Good night, brother,” said Polaris. “You should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be an arduous day.”
Matheson gave Polaris a noncommittal nod and headed for Father’s study. As his brother’s footsteps didn’t recede down towards the grand staircase, Matheson assumed that Polaris was still standing in the hallway scrutinizing him. Not bothering to check, he turned into the study. Father’s old parchment and soldering iron scent filled his nostrils. It caused his steps to falter and his heart to sink to his feet.
The Auburn Flamberge lay on its stand in pride of place atop the cherrywood mantle. It was the weapon their ancestors used a millennia ago to drive out the last of the fairies from Igneous. Its wavy, fifty-inch blade of ensorcelled steel was said to drain a fairy of his magic and then burn the creature from the inside.