Once Bitten: A Dragon-Shifter Fantasy Romance

by Viola Rivard

  He turned his head so that he was kissing the inside of her hand, and then pushed himself up into a sitting position. As his arms came up to stretch, Eloisa stared up at him, marveling in his bare chest.

  She’d drawn several depictions of bare-chested men over the years, but none of them could compare to seeing the real thing. After seeing nothing but women for so long, it fascinated her that a chest could look as his did. She wanted to run her fingers down the line that separated the panels of his torso and trace the rippled muscles that guarded his belly.

  Thankfully, he didn’t notice her gawking at him. Eloisa looked away as he climbed from the bed, not prepared to see any more of him than she already had.

  Did all Cal’derache men sleep in the nude?

  She brought her hand to her chest. She could still feel where he had kissed her. His lips, like every other part of him, had been cold, yet the inside of her hand pulsed with heat.

  Eloisa glanced his way as she heard him take the robe from the floor. She saw him put it on, but not before getting a glimpse of his smooth, unblemished back.

  It reminded her of her own back. The night before, she had been afraid that when he found out about her scars he’d wouldn’t want to marry her and it would jeopardize Atolia’s future. Now, she had that fear and a new one. He thought she was fasyna—pretty, beautiful, or whatever wonderful word that it meant. There was no way he would think that after seeing her back.

  She would have liked to spend the entire morning in his company, but a few moments later Graja and two of her fellow maids arrived to escort Eloisa back to her room. Caleth helped her from the bed, finally unwrapping the blankets she was wound in.

  As he pulled her up, his other arm went around her back to press her against his body. With only the thick fabrics of their clothing to separate them, Eloisa could feel the contours of his muscles and it made her knees tremble.

  He kissed her full on the lips and in plain sight of the maids. Eloisa could barely reciprocate, as she was preoccupied with wondering what the maids must have thought of her.

  She could still feel the pressure of his lips when she was back in her room. She hadn’t known how cold she was until she went the the fire and felt numb extremities begin to thaw.

  Graja and the maids brought her a dress that she didn’t recognize. It was green and gold, with lavishly embroidered vines on its bust. Though pretty, it had no sleeves and a low neckline, which made it suitable for nowhere outside of her room.

  It was awkward having to dismiss the servants in favor of Lidia. She knew she caused offense, and she wasn’t sure how long it would be until their auras began to flicker with suspicion. Eventually, they would catch on that she only sent them away when it was time for her to undress. Protecting her secrets felt more important than ever now, and it was yet another thing for her to worry over.

  By the time Lidia arrived, Eloisa had already combed the morning tangles from her hair. She’d spent a wickedly long time in front of the mirror, examining her features and wondering what the sovereign must have thought as he’d stared at her.

  “Good morning, Ma’am,” Lidia said as the door clicked shut behind her.

  Eloisa turned to smile at her, but when she saw the wariness in Lidia’s curling aura, she remembered how cross she’d been with the maid the night before. She was certain that if she could see her own aura, it would be burning with shame.

  “Lidia, about last night…”

  “Think nothing of it, Ma’am. I did not take it personally.”

  It was not so easy for Eloisa to banish her shame, but she didn’t know what more she could say.

  Lidia gestured towards the green dress, which Eloisa had left lying over the back of the sofa. “I see you discovered your new clothes. They arrived in the evening. I took the liberty of unpacking them, though there is still more yet to do.”

  “Graja brought that to me, actually. I wasn’t aware that there were more.”

  “Oh, yes, Ma’am,” Lidia said, walking over to the closet. She opened the door to reveal row upon row of dresses.

  Eloisa approached the closet, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “Are these from the sovereign?”

  “No, Ma’am. I think he would send you more practical clothes,” Lidia said, holding up a dress for emphasis. It seemed to be made entirely of cream-colored mesh. “Milara sent them along. I imagine only a few will be useful in this climate, but it’s more for appearances. People would think it strange if you showed up with nothing to your name.”

  “Yes, but this seems so extravagant. I imagine the queen could restock the coffers just selling half of these.”

  Lidia wrinkled her nose. “The king’s gambling isn’t the only thing that’s bankrupted the kingdom. Milara is well known for her lavish purchases. I’m certain these all belong to her, and they’re probably a fraction of her wardrobe.”

  Eloisa spent a few minutes perusing the dresses. Most were absurd and impractical, but she did find a few that were simple in style, if not suited for the cold.

  After a long moment of silence, Lidia asked, “How was your night?”

  Eloisa had been expecting the question, and despite how much she’d enjoyed her time with Caleth, she hadn’t wanted to discuss it with anyone. Admitting what happened felt like confessing a sin, even if Lidia wouldn’t see it that way.

  “He kissed me,” Eloisa said, as if she had no part in it. “And then we went to sleep. Nothing more.”

  Lidia pursed her lips. “Did he seem to enjoy it?”

  “I’m pretty sure he liked it,” Eloisa said with a shrug. “I was, well, I suppose I was surprised when he stopped. I got the impression that he wanted to do more, but for some reason, he didn’t.”

  “He must be keeping with tradition,” Lidia said. “As I told you before, Cal’derache don’t typically consummate their relationship in the early stages of courtship. They prefer anticipation over fast gratification. It is one of their finer qualities.”

  Eloisa reflected on the night before and how frustrated she’d felt. If not for being shackled to her vow, she wouldn’t have hesitated to let Caleth have his way with her. Had he felt the same sort of yearning she had? And if so, how had he been able to bear it?

  Now that the subject had been broached, Eloisa couldn’t help but continue talking about what they’d done.

  “I always knew that kissing could be romantic, but I never thought that it could make one feel so…stimulated.”

  Was that the right word?

  Lidia gave her an impish grin. “He was good, then?”

  Eloisa’s cheeks warmed, and she compulsively glanced over her shoulder even though she knew the room to be empty.

  “I think so,” she whispered. “I’ve never kissed another man, so I’ve nothing to measure it by, but… I enjoyed it.”

  “Truly?” Lidia seemed surprised. “I’m not sure I would enjoy kissing a frostkind. They’re so cold. I hear they’re cold everywhere. That’s why they enjoy being with females of the southern races. The difference in temperature gives them a particular sort of pleasure.”

  “What sort of pleasure?”

  Lidia gave her a coy look. “Ma’am, are you sure you want me to speak of such things? I won’t offend your delicate sensibilities?”

  Eloisa’s laughter had a nervous edge. Lidia was joking with her, but in truth Eloisa wasn’t sure how much she wanted to hear. She might have changed the subject, if not for her curiosity.

  “I think Caleth has already offended my sensibilities. Tell me.”

  “So it is Caleth now? Not Lord?” Lidia asked, her brows rising. “When did that begin?”

  Her blush deepening, Eloisa said, “I think sometime after he put his tongue in my mouth.”

  Laughing, Lidia took Eloisa by the hand. “Come with me, Ma’am.”

  They went out onto the balcony, where the heavy deposits of snow had yet to be swept by the servants. Eloisa was still in her nightdress, and the bitter cold, coupled with the wind, was almos
t more than she could bear.

  Lidia guided her down to a crouch, and then pushed Eloisa’s hand into a pile of soft snow.

  “Ah!”

  “Keep it there for as long as you can stand it,” Lidia instructed.

  “I already can't stand it,” Eloisa said, but she kept in in place for several seconds longer before yanking it out and cradling her hand to her chest.

  “Good, now come back inside,” Lidia said, helping Eloisa to her feet.

  Chilled to the bone, Eloisa’s teeth didn’t stop chattering until the balcony doors were closed and locked behind her. Lidia guided her over to the hearth and instructed her to hold her hand out to the fire.

  At first, the difference in temperature was so stark that Eloisa almost yanked her hand away from the pain, but as she adjusted to the temperature, the burning subsided and feeling began to return to her fingertips. She let out a sound that was part sigh and part moan as she eagerly soaked in the fire’s warmth.

  “That’s it, right there,” Lidia said. “Imagine that pleasure, but magnified threefold. That’s what it’s like for one of them when they’re inside one of us.”

  “That makes no sense. Wouldn’t it be painful for them, given how much they hate heat?”

  Lidia’s aura twinkled with mischief. “Apparently, their manhoods are the one part of their bodies that is averse to cold. From what I’ve heard, most of the highest ranking men in the kingdom have either a southern wife or consort. And it’s more than just pleasure. Their wives are also a symbol of wealth. See the logs and coals that keep your fire burning at all hours? They have to be imported from the central lands. Even a month’s supply costs a small fortune.”

  “Where in the world have you learned all of this?”

  “Being stuck in the servants’ quarters has its advantages,” Lidia said. “I swear, those women have nothing better to do than gossip. Despite how it may seem, we actually get on well. I’ve been teaching them little phrases of Atolian here and there, in order to ingratiate myself. They hope that if they can speak your language like Graja, they’ll be better able to earn your favor.”

  “You’re faring well down there, then? You’re not too cold in the night?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but the quarters are just above the kitchens, so it’s not so cold as the rest of the fortress. It is strange to be shivering when the others around me are bemoaning the heat.”

  Eloisa touched a hand to her shoulder. “Perhaps I can talk to the sovereign about getting you better sleeping arrangements.”

  Lidia smiled. “How about we focus on getting you to your wedding day, and then we’ll worry about me.”

  As the morning progressed into the afternoon hours, Eloisa noticed a small shift in her relationship with Lidia. Lidia had stopped calling her Ma’am as much, and was far more candid in her speech. Eloisa fancied that this must have been the way she was with Lusia, and she was glad to feel as if she had a friend.

  When the food arrived, it was just as Lidia had predicted. There were so many platters that they had to set some of them onto the end tables and the writing desk for lack of space in the dining area. There was an abundance of fruits, and for this she blamed Lidia, who had been picking at them the day before. For her own part, there were over thirty different types of bread in all shapes and colors. Eloisa picked at a few of them, noting sadly that the chocolate cake had been replaced with fruit pastries.

  Long after the sun had risen and set, there was a knock at the door. Eloisa feared it might be more food, but when Lidia opened the door it turned out to be Jedora, accompanied by a tall, pale-skinned Cal’derache man.

  As always, Jedora’s first act was to dismiss Lidia. This time, Eloisa tried to put up a protest, but her efforts were ignored, both by Jedora and by her maid, who bowed her head and shuffled from the room.

  “This man is Goldrech,” Jedora said, pointing a thumb in the man’s direction. “He’s going to tutor you. I’ll be supervising.”

  Eloisa noted that she wasn’t wearing her armor for once, though her outfit was far from proper attire for a princess. Jedora wore pants, and not just any pants, but leather ones that clung to her like a second skin. Her shirt was nearly as tight, and cut down her chest in a manner that gave anyone who looked a view of the sides of her breasts.

  Now that Eloisa knew she was Caleth’s daughter, she could recognize the faint similarities in their scents. More telling, however, was her physical makeup. She had her father’s ebony hair, though hers was long and straight, and she kept it tied back. She also had his same skin tone, chiseled lips, and swooping brows.

  As much as she disliked Jedora, she had to respect the fact that she was Caleth’s daughter and do her best to make nice with the bullish woman.

  Eloisa offered her a smile, but if she noticed, Jedora didn’t return the gesture. She’d flopped down onto where Eloisa had been sitting on the sofa, and had taken the entire platter of meats and cheeses into her lap.

  While Jedora began eating, Eloisa directed her attention to the man that had arrived with her. By his scent, she knew that he was a frostkind, and by the deep wrinkles in his forehead and around his lips and eyes she knew that he had at least a little bit of human in him, though it didn’t tell in his scent. By his aura, softly undulating waves of carob, she knew that he was kind and intelligent.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Goldrech,” Eloisa said, bowing her head.

  Through a mouthful of food, Jedora said, “It’s Gol-drech, not Gold-drech. And don’t bow. You bow to no one but the sovereign.”

  Goldrech smiled serenely. “Jedoraja, I thought you were supervising, not instructing.”

  He spoke in pitch-perfect Atolian, but with the faintest accent that added a touch of charm. Eloisa liked him at once.

  Jedora rolled her shoulders and muttered, “Revasojcre.”

  “Eshandru, Eloisa,” Goldrech said, giving her a polite bow. “Or should I call you asejana?

  “Not yet, you shouldn’t,” Jedora said, her lip curling.

  “What does that mean?” Eloisa asked. “Both of the words, actually. I’ve heard eshandru several times now. Is it a greeting?”

  She worried she was sounding terribly Atolian, with her barrage of questions, but Goldrech’s aura glimmered with delight.

  “Ah, I can see it in your eyes. A hunger for knowledge. I already know you will learn our language quickly, just as Jedoraja learned yours. Let us sit.”

  They took a seat beside one another on the sofa where Lidia had been lazing not long before. Eloisa sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, while Goldrech gesticulated in sweeping gestures as he spoke.

  “Eshandru is a friendly and polite way of greeting someone. It has no direct translation, but it is similar to how Atolians might say, good day. However, as you can see,” he gestured to the balcony doors, “day and night, they make no difference here, and the language reflects that. Eshandru can be used at any hour. You may also hear eshandrushta or eshandru ka shta, both of which mean good day to you and add a touch of formality. We’ll get into the nuance later.”

  Eloisa said, “Eshandru ka shta would be the Cal’derache equivalent of High Atolian, yes?”

  Goldrech clapped his hands together and smiled. “And here I was informed you knew nothing of our language!”

  “My maid has been teaching me a little,” she confessed.

  And the sovereign…

  “Ah, I see. Well then, you’ll have to tell me what you have already learned, that way we do not waste your time.”

  Jedora reinserted herself into the conversation. “Whatever her maid has taught her, it’s probably wrong. That woman speaks Cal’derache like a whelp barely off of the tit.”

  “What a lively metaphor, Jedoraja,” Goldrech said. “But please, do try to keep the vulgarities to yourself while we are in polite company.”

  Jedora gave him a look of disdain, but her aura flared with embarrassment and the simmering flickers of resentment.
r />   Eloisa did her best to ignore the hostility and focus on the lesson.

  “As for asejana, again, there is no direct translation,” Goldrech said. “It is something like a queen, or an empress. It is what you will be when you marry the asejan, the man you would call 'the sovereign.'”

  Eloisa repeated both of the words, finding that they rolled off the tongue nicely.

  Afterwards, she and Goldrech went over what little vocabulary she did know, including her confusion over the particle ka.

  “I want you to put ka out of your mind for now,” he told her. “You will learn by hearing it spoken, and in the meantime, everyone will understand you with a little effort, even if you aren’t using it correctly. How about we start with the most basic of concepts? To be.”

  He pointed to himself and said, “Hakcre ka Goldrech. Now, you.”

  Feeling nervous, particularly with Jedora listening on, Eloisa started and stopped several times before completing the sentence.

  “Hakcre ka Eloisa.” I am Eloisa.

  “Good, good. Now, I want you to focus on the 'r' in 'cre.' The Cal’derache 'r' sound is like a marriage between the Atolian 'l' and 'r' sounds. Listen to me and repeat. Don’t worry if you get it wrong. We’ll do it as many times as is necessary.”

  As the hours passed, Eloisa was increasingly glad that Lidia had been dismissed. Her maid would have surely disapproved of how much progress Eloisa was making with the language. Goldrech had a gift for teaching, and when coupled with her understanding of the very similar language of Ye’derache, Eloisa was able to make so many connections and strides that by evening she was able to carry on short, simple conversations.

  “Ketshta ka paja?” Eloisa asked, pointing at the bread platter.

  “Ketnesh ka cre ka paja,” Goldrech said. I do not like bread. “Kashcre ka fajal.” I prefer fish. He motioned to Jedora. “Now, ask Jedora what she prefers.”

  Jedora was leaning back on the sofa, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

  Eloisa cleared her throat. “Jedora—”

  “Jedora,” she corrected. “Not Jedora. Like doe, not door.”