Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1)

by Jade Lee

  He groaned, indecision making his sword arm shake. She was an amazing woman, no doubt about it. And yet, for all that, Sabina's words echoed back to him.

  She is crafty, I will give you that. And resourceful. But she is still an amateur in this game.

  And in games against the Emperor, amateurs died. And worse, if he didn't go through with this now—with what he and Sabina had planned—Bina would take everything. He would be penniless. Powerless. And completely lost. He simply couldn't risk everything he'd worked so hard for—his financial security, a governorship with real power, his real chance to make a difference—on an amateur, even if Natiya was intelligent and resourceful and so damn beautiful it broke his heart.

  He couldn't give those things up. And so, with a curse that blistered his lips, he slammed down his blade with all his strength.

  Chapter 18

  Kiril cursed himself. Over and over, with every sobbing breath, he cursed himself. Cursed the dragons. Cursed Natiya for beginning this in the first place. But most of all, he cursed himself. For being a fool. For being weak. For slamming his sword down into the sand beside her head, not even close enough to cut her glorious blond hair. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill her. And worse, he couldn't watch her suffer either.

  He knew what he had to do, bastard that he was. He knew, and he didn't hesitate. Having already thrown away all of his convictions, why not go for broke? Or perhaps, having risked everything on her, why not make sure he helped her every way he could? So he did.

  According to his mother, Jaseen's egg had been cut from his arm. The worst his cousin experienced was a torn muscle, which healed within a day. But Natiya had incubated the egg in her belly. Cutting the egg out of there could very well kill her. She had to push the thing out on her own. But her contortions were doing nothing. They were disorganized and weak, unable to wrench the egg from her belly. She had to have a rhythm, damn it, an overriding wave of contractions until she tossed the damn dragon from her body like so much bad meat.

  She had to have a frelling orgasm, and a big one. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He dropped to his knees between her legs, using his hands to open her wide. The sunlight was fading now, bathing the clutching cave in glorious shades of red and orange. But all he could see was her. And he was smitten.

  Natiya.

  He kissed her. He did more than kiss her; he stroked his tongue in long, sensuous waves across her sex. He knew how to do it. D'greth, in some things a court education was most thorough. And thank Amia he was strong enough to hold Natiya down while he administered to her.

  A kiss. A stroke. Even a hum. Everything and anything he could do to begin her contractions.

  She was incredibly sensitive. Even his breath had her squirming, and not just from the damn hatching. All too soon she was crying out his name instead of just crying. And sweet toutch, when he pushed his fingers inside her and her flesh contracted around him, it was all he could do not to join her.

  And yet, it wasn't enough. Her body was still twisting, writhing in a spastic fashion.

  "More!"

  He wasn't sure he had heard her at first. She had been gasping, crying, sobbing, the Father only knew what she was trying to say. Until, of course, her legs locked around his head and she reared up.

  "Kiril! More!" Then, as she screamed and fell backward, one last word slipped past her lips. "Please." With every gasping breath, she kept repeating it. Over and over. "Please. Please. Please. Please."

  And so he did what he knew she desired. He rolled her onto her side, doing his best to use their body weight to shove the damn egg from her belly. He spooned up behind her, his prock hard and eager.

  "Yes!" she gasped. "Now. Now. Now. Now."

  She arched back against him, and he thrust. He didn't even think about it; he just acted while her ecstatic scream echoed in the chamber. Cursing himself for a bastard, he thrust, burying himself so deep inside her that he didn't think he would ever come out. And then he reached down, wrapping his arms around her thighs, spreading her legs with his hands so he could slip his fingers where she needed him most.

  She helped as best she could. She arched against him and writhed and sobbed. "More. More. More."

  Amia, he was a bastard for loving it, but he did. She clenched him and he rammed into her, using his fingers and all his skill. At last it began—one quick contraction, followed by another and another and another. Power built inside her. He knew, because he felt each incredible wave. And bit by bit, he helped her recruit other muscles to join in the glory. Stronger wave after stronger wave. Growing, pumping, moving together until her entire body—and his along with hers—was one great fabulous explosion of power.

  That kept going on.

  And on.

  And...

  "YES!"

  The egg sprang free, pushed from her body with enough force to crack it against the wall. He didn't know what happened after that. All he knew was Natiya was still contracting, still shuddering with him, around him.

  Together.

  Until they both sank into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Air. Sun. Beautiful sky.

  Flight, at last.

  Natiya was soaring again, riding the wind while the sun beat hard and hot against her back. What joy there was in this—the flap of her wings, the cool caress of a cloud, and then the abrupt and welcome sight of prey.

  Her stomach rumbled in hunger, and her wings faltered, but the prey was bound and could not run. The humans had obviously left it for her, knowing her great need so soon after the hatching. She adjusted her wings for a downward attack, but it was difficult to control her flight. She overran her target. Thankfully, she had time now to practice, and this tethered prey was useful for such things.

  Below her, she heard the animal scream and was startled to realize how the sound fired her blood. She opened her mouth, instinctively wanting to purge her fire gases, but she was too young and so no flame leapt forth. No matter. She would grow, and the fire gas would come. In the meantime, she was tired of practicing. Her shoulders ached and her belly rumbled. No matter how awkward the approach, it was time to eat.

  She misjudged again, but this time adjusted in mid-run. She was too small to bite off the creature's head. Instead, she used her claws, narrowly grasping the creature's spine.

  D'greth, the thing was heavy, double her size. Though her claws kept hold of it, the weight toppled her down onto the ground. She landed painfully on her nose and cried out, though the sound was muffled by the crash. Fortunately, the jerk of her landing had snapped the creature's back. Once her annoyance faded, she was able to feast. It was good to have food.

  "Damn it! Not the mount! Oh, d'greth, not our mount!"

  Natiya looked up, seeing the male human stumbling toward her, sharp stick extended. She frowned. Not sharp stick. A sword. And he was most skilled with it.

  She opened her mouth to tell him to put it down, but her mouth was full and all she managed was a hoarse gurgle. Instead, she extended a hand to stop him, but her claws were also buried deep within her prey and her wings reached forward instead and she overbalanced, toppling onto her nose once again, gurgling in distress.

  Meanwhile, she heard the man—Kiril—moan as he left her side to move back into the cave. His steps were noisy, his sword scraping the sand in defeat.

  "Natiya! Natiya, you must wake!"

  Natiya stirred, trying to right herself once again. All she managed was to turn her head. Fortunately, that brought the food directly against her snout, and the scent was heavenly. Warm and full. She could resume eating without even adjusting her wings. Her arms. No, her wings. But she didn't have wings.

  "Natiya! Wake up!"

  She opened her eyes and saw the human. She saw Kiril kneeling in the sand beside her, his jaw darkened with hair and his face clenched with passion.

  No, this wasn't passion. It was... fear? Hunger? Anger? What was the word?

  "Natiya! Can you hear me?"

 
She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words she heard a loud cry, muffled because of food and sand and awkward position.

  "Natiya, you are not the dragon. Separate yourself from it. Natiya!"

  She blinked and tried to move, but she was already moving. Already eating. What was happening?

  "Listen to me," the man continued. "You have to remember who you are. If you are only the beast, then I must kill you. I must! Show me that you are still in there. Please, Natiya!"

  She heard the desperation in his voice and struggled to understand it. Of course she was still here. She was Natiya. Eating her breakfast. Except, she was not. She was Natiya, lying in aching pain upon a sandy floor.

  What was she?

  Again she blinked her eyes, trying to resolve her dual vision. She had an excellent view of Kiril, his eyes searching hers. She also saw her food, warm and still flowing blood, the energy fading with the death of the creature.

  Energy fading? That was dragon sight.

  There was no energy surrounding Kiril. Therefore, that was her human sight.

  "Natiya." He was begging her now. "I don't know how long this takes. I've never stopped to question it before. I don't even know if you're in there at all. Please, for the love of the Father, don't make me do this. Show me you can hear me."

  "I am here," she said. Or she thought she said. She heard only the gurgling sound of the dragon.

  No, this was not right. She needed her human voice, human words. So she tried again. Another hoarse gurgle. This wasn't working.

  "Natiya?"

  She had to move, had to see him more clearly. And so, with her wings folded up behind her, she abandoned her food. It had been a large beast, well able to fill her belly for many days. Still, she was reluctant to leave it because the energy faded more and more after death. But it was more important to talk to Kiril now, so she left her food behind with only small regret. Then she waddled awkwardly over stone and sand until she made it to the mouth of the clutching cave.

  And watched as Kiril turned away from her to stare at the golden dragon. He stood slowly, his sword tip rising slowly before him.

  "Natiya? Are you in control of it? Because I swear to you, I can still kill it."

  "Don't!" Again, her word came out as a hoarse cry as she continued to waddle forward.

  "Natiya..." His voice was a low growl that made her hunch her wings. "Keep it back. Even hatchlings can kill a man. I won't let it have that chance."

  She had to stop moving. She had to—

  She stopped. No, the dragon stopped. No, she stopped the dragon. D'greth, this was so confusing.

  She sat down. No, the dragon sat down. No, she sat the dragon down. And it grunted in disgust.

  "Natiya? Are you in control?"

  She snorted through the dragon's nose in response. And wasn't that just the oddest feeling?

  "You have to try and separate yourself from it. Try and move your arm."

  Her wing extended.

  She looked at it, moving both her human head and her dragon head so that she got a view of herself—of the dragon wing—with both human and dragon vision. She slammed her eyes shut. Both sets.

  "Work slowly. Carefully. Do not let it gain control of you."

  She opened her eyes—both sets—to once again look at Kiril. Her human eyes noted that he was gloriously naked, his body in a ready stance, his sword poised but not raised. Her dragon eyes saw the strength of his energy flowing around him, coloring the air with the bright red of his aura.

  The color red? When had she begun to differentiate energy flow by color and source? She didn't have an answer, nor did she need one. Instead, she began to look around, seeing the ebb and flow of energy in a rainbow of different colors as it permeated everything.

  She ought to be nauseated by the sight. Her head ought to be throbbing with the strain of trying to sort through her vision, but it wasn't; somehow filtering the images through the dragon's mind made everything more recognizable.

  Even Kiril.

  She turned her human head to look at the Golden Queen, its short, squat body plopped in an ungainly heap on the sand. And since she could not speak with her own voice, she decided to think at it just as she had done when it was an egg in her belly.

  Queen, are you there?

  Of course. And then, apparently for emphasis, the Queen released a soft, purring kind of hum.

  I am having trouble separating my body from yours.

  Of course.

  Can I release your body to you and my body to me?

  Of course.

  How?

  You must simply do so.

  Just do so. Right. Why was everything so simple for the dragon and confusing for her? And then, as if the Queen were suddenly in an expansive mood, the dragon explained further.

  You have always had complete dominance over your body. But now you have two bodies. You must learn to specify which body must move, which muscles contract and relax.

  She tried to do as it suggested. Once again, she raised her arm. Her human arm didn't move. Her dragon wing did.

  Why does your body move and not mine?

  Because I am the dominant body.

  And I am the dominant mind?

  Yes. For now.

  As usual, Natiya detected no emotion in the dragon's voice, merely a statement of fact, and Natiya couldn't suppress a shudder at the implication. Clearly, the Queen believed that at some point she would have dominance.

  Is that true? Natiya asked. How long before you will be able to control my mind?

  Never. Unless you cede control to me.

  But right now you are ceding control of your body to me?

  I am sharing as we were meant to do. It is part of the process.

  Every time Natiya asked a question, the answer spawned a hundred other questions. But she didn't want to focus on them right now. Her current concern was making sure Kiril didn't kill one or both of them before she could sort out matters. So she concentrated her energies on regaining control of her body—her human body.

  She began with her breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

  The Queen was almost comical in the way her cheeks and belly expanded and contracted. Natiya focused more deliberately. Human inhale. Human exhale. She felt her human body respond with pain. With a lot of pain. She heard herself groan.

  Kiril reacted immediately, whipping around to stare at her. "Natiya? Are you coming back to me?"

  "I never left," she snapped. Of course, the Queen growled at the same time, but Natiya was sure her human body had spoken. So, apparently, was Kiril, because he abruptly dropped to his knees before her.

  "Are you in pain?"

  Stupid question. Now that she was beginning to separate sensations, she was able to sort through what inputs came from the dragon and what from her human body. Indeed, it wasn't all that hard. Pain was from the human. Youth and vitality came from the dragon.

  Damn pleasure hog. Now she knew why babies gurgled all the time. It was a joy just being in a young body, whereas hers felt like it had just... had just been carrying that huge dragon around like it was a suitcase strapped to her belly. Then she'd popped it out like a cork from a bottle.

  She frowned, knowing her images didn't make sense. But, d'greth, now that her mind felt centered back in her human body, she was in pain! Everything ached, and... She looked down at her naked belly where she'd once carried the egg. There was blood everywhere—dried and mixed with sand—but mostly she saw her navel with thin ugly veins drooping out of it. That was what had connected her to the egg. And all around her and Kiril, her flesh sagged, lying on the ground like the bloated skin of a fat gommet.

  Sweet Amia, she was hideous!

  "Well, at least I know you're in there," Kiril grumbled as he sat back on his haunches. "I seriously doubt a dragon would care what you look like. And only you could look at your naked body and make sounds of distress."

  She concentrated hard, and was able to lift her human head to look directly at him. />
  He grinned, even as impatience laced his tone. "Yes, you are still beautiful to me. No, there aren't any stretch marks—or at least none that won't fade pretty soon. D'greth, Natiya, you are an amazing woman, in more ways than just your body. Now can we please get back to deciding if I have to kill you or not? Can you control your dragon?"

  It was time to stretch her skills. She had mastered moving her head. She could control her vision, switching back and forth between the Queen's and her own at will. Now it was time to conquer speech.

  "Frrrrreeegnoooow."

  "What?"

  "Frmrr. Nowwwww."

  "One more time, Natiya. Really concentrate."

  "Foooorrrrr. Nowwww."

  "For now?"

  She nodded.

  "For now. For now what?"

  She glared at him.

  "Oh, right. For now. You can control your dragon for now." He frowned as her words at last sank in. "For now! Natiya, how long is now?" He abruptly stood up, his sword raised.

  "Op!"

  He froze at her loud tone. She concentrated harder.

  "Ssssstop!"

  "Natiya, I can't risk—"

  "Shhhhut up! Sworrrrrrd away!"

  "But—''

  "Lisssten."

  He hesitated, then sighed, dropping his sword into the sand. She didn't fool herself into thinking she was safe; Kiril was still lightning-fast if he wanted to be. Whatever she said now had to be good.

  "Dragon nooooot evil."

  He didn't answer that, and she could have kicked herself for her stupidity. This was old territory for them, an old disagreement. Just repeating the same thing was not going to change his mind. She needed another tack.

  "Have plan," she lied.

  "Great," he answered evenly. "What?"

  And wouldn't she like to know that as well? But then she focused her thoughts away from self-pity. She did have a plan of sorts. She just needed to expand on it, figure out the details.

  "Kill Rassssshad."