The Fifth Moon’s Dragon

by Monica La Porta

  The sentiment had been brewing for a while, festering his thoughts, but Dragon wished he could look at his brides with the same all-encompassing attention Valentine showed that night of more than a year ago.

  18

  Jade could not believe what was happening to her.

  After trying to push and pull at her restraints to no avail, she was forced to acknowledge a truth she couldn’t stomach. She was strapped to a man’s bed, truly helpless for the very first time in years. The idea of waiting for the High Lord to come back and decide what happened to her next repulsed her.

  Jade had been the master of her destiny since she was sixteen years old, when she swore to herself that no man would ever touch her again and live to tell the tale. And yet, she allowed the High Lord and his man to handle her, when in the last ten years, no one had ever come close enough to approach her unguarded.

  Since that first arrow didn’t reach its target, her meticulously planned strategy to kill the High Lord had unraveled. Like a tsunami of bad luck, every action she took resulted in the opposite effect she was aiming for. Error after error, the result of her failure was horrifying.

  Death didn’t scare her. Torture might test her resolve, but she would endure. Even the notion that a friend, someone she had trained with for years, was looking for her, sent to terminate her, didn’t faze Jade. She grew up knowing that was the price to pay for a botched mission. But to submit to a man against her will, forced to receive him in her body, that terrified her beyond words.

  When the High Lord restrained her to the bed, with the two other Solarians standing by, watching, Jade could barely contain her panic. For a moment, images of them taking turns upon her overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t force air into her lungs fast enough. Then her captor spoke, his voice soothing, gentle as he promised he wouldn’t touch her.

  Now, she was waiting, again, for something to happen.

  Restless, she moved. The skin on her wrists and ankles was raw. She couldn’t see past her flat chest, but was sure she was bleeding from the cuts she procured when she tried to free herself. Pain was good. It gave her something on which to focus her erratic thoughts and it calmed her.

  She had managed to slow her breathing to a normal pace when the door swung open, and the large silhouette of the High Lord filled the space. He talked with someone behind him, probably the guards she heard pacing outside, then closed the heavy wooden panel.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him approaching the bed. Her body trembled of its own accord.

  The High Lord wore formal clothes. The black jacket hugging his bulky frame strained at his pectorals and muscular shoulders. A black kilt covered his thighs, but did nothing to hide how formidable his legs were as he strode through the room.

  “Do not be afraid of me,” he said, his voice but a whisper as he lowered his heavy frame to the bed, dipping the firm mattress. He adjusted the burgundy sash draped over his shoulder before his hand reached for her wrists over her head, and her shivering intensified. His fingers hovered over her skin, warming the spot where her pulse point lay without touching her. The moment protracted for several heartbeats, then he switched his focus to her ankles, his eyes caressing her while his hands remained on the mattress.

  “It displeases me to see you hurt yourself.” He pushed himself up and reached for the nightstand’s drawer. He picked a red jar and opened the lid. “I’ll tend to your bruises.”

  For a moment, she lost herself in the turquoise pools of his eyes.

  His hand poised at her ankle, he waited a moment as if waiting for her rejection. She could say nothing one way or the other, and he lowered his fingers to her ruined skin. His ministration was respectful, merely a brush to cover the abrasions with the cream after he loosened the binding. At first, the soothing, cold ointment numbed her discomfort, but when his hand lingered for a few heartbeats longer than necessary—even though still barely touching—warmth enveloped Jade. The sensation spread, swathing her entire body.

  He moved to her other ankle and took an equally long amount of time to finish a task Jade had performed in seconds so many times before. During her five-year training, she had suffered more injuries than she could remember, and her instructors taught her how to take care of herself in the most expedited fashion.

  “Better?” he asked when he finally leaned back, his voice low, his chest rising and falling as if he struggled for breath.

  Jade nodded, watching his large hand move over her head. His gaze remained riveted on her for a long moment before he looked away and repeated the process, moving the leather straps up her arms, and spreading the salve over her bruises and cuts with the utmost care.

  The High Lord’s tenderness overwhelmed her.

  Blinking, Jade forced her head back in the game. “I’m going to kill you,” she said, only her tone lacked menace.

  “You can try.” He smiled, removing his hand at once and leaning away from her.

  A foreign sense of loss weighed on her chest.

  “I’m dead if I don’t complete my mission.” The words left her mouth before she could think better of it. Why was she explaining herself to him?

  “I know and am trying to keep you safe, but you aren’t helping.”

  “Why?”

  His face showed an array of emotions she couldn’t decipher because she had little experience with human sentiments, but he looked as confused as she felt.

  “What’s your name?” he asked after a silence that stretched too long.

  All along, her ingrained training told her that the man was manipulating her with his kindness, but she still answered his question with the softest of whispers. “Jade.”

  His eyes widened before a slow smile curved his lips. “Hard as stone and exquisitely delicate.”

  A foreign sentiment stirred in her chest, sending a flutter of butterflies against her bruised ribcage, but it wasn’t pain that made her hold her breath.

  He leaned away and grabbed a filigree carving of a draglet resting on the nightstand. “Like this statuette,” he said, his eyes holding her gaze with a hypnotic clutch. “Dragon. My name’s Dragon,” he added, and his voice sounded huskier than a moment before.

  Jade knew the name of her targets, but would never use them. And yet, she realized that at some point she had stopped thinking of this man as her assignment, and started attributing him personal traits, individualizing him. It was wrong. A rookie mistake. Unexperienced mercenaries died every day because they humanized their marks, but an assassin should know better.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  Stronger than her ingrained training, the compulsion to obey tore at her. Only her resolve gave her the strength to fight and win over the need to utter this man’s name. It was pure madness. Kindness would be her downfall. She was unaccustomed to it, and it caught her off guard.

  “I want to hear my name in your mouth.” His order was soft-spoken, and more dangerous for that because it eroded her defenses. It promised her respite from having to decide her next move.

  How easy would it be to simply yield to this man’s will and let him guide her for the next few minutes. Not worrying about her following decision, wondering if it would kill her or not. Since joining the Academy, she had dealt with the same question. Is this my last breath?

  What would it feel like to let go?

  Dragon, she thought, savoring the weight of the letters and vowels as they rolled in her mind.

  This is how you die, she chided herself.

  “Jade—” His fingers—Dragon’s fingers—skimmed her cheek, then slid to her throat, down to her collarbone. He traced the marks on her skin, his eyes bright with hunger.

  She shuddered. “Don’t touch me.”

  He blinked as if waking from a daze and jerked his hand away.

  A knock on the door broke the heavy silence that ensued.

  “Come in,” Dragon called without averting his scorching gaze from her.

  Warmth spread across her exposed skin, and Ja
de was glad when the door opened and a guard entered, creating a momentary diversion. She wouldn’t say the High Lord’s name out loud, but in the safety of her mind, he was now Dragon.

  Jade hoped the arrival of the other man meant the torture would start soon, because only pain and cruelty would save her now.

  Instead, the guard announced, “The food has arrived,” and let in a maid holding a large tray.

  After thanking the girl, Dragon grabbed the tray and closed the door behind him with his boot.

  “You’ll eat something.” He sat on the edge of the bed, balancing the platter on his knees as he lowered a spoon into a deep bowl. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, bringing the spoon to her lips.

  Not knowing when she would eat next, Jade eagerly accepted the offering. Dragon gently fed her spicy rice congee and small bits of meat and vegetables. The tasty porridge filled her empty stomach, but she still felt queasy. Not because she was starving, but because the act of receiving food from Dragon was too intimate, and she wished the guard had done it instead of him.

  “There—” His thumb wiped her mouth, removing smudges of porridge. He licked his finger, looking at her with a hunger in his stare that had nothing to do with food. “You must be thirsty,” he said after he coaxed her lips apart for the last spoonful of congee.

  His hand slipped behind her head, holding it, as the other brought a tall mug to her mouth. Jade gulped the warm beverage that was slightly sweet and tasted of red lavender and Solarian berries. A few drops escaped her lips, wetting her chin and throat, and his eyes followed their trail on her skin, making her shiver. As he placed the mug back on the tray, she expected him to touch her where his gaze still lingered. Instead, he reached for a braided roll and tore a chunk from it for her. The freshly baked bread was savory and spongy and it melted on her tongue.

  Dragon kept feeding her until the tray was empty and her emotions were in disarray.

  An unsettling silence stretched between them. Jade’s training included how to defend herself against psychological warfare, but now, she was out of her depth and barely knew what to do.

  Finally, someone knocked at the door, and the sound acted as a much-needed cold shower on her senses.

  “It’s Valerian,” the lieutenant’s voice resonated loud inside the bedroom, even though he was outside.

  “Come in,” Dragon said, moving the tray to the nightstand.

  Jade braced for the torture to finally begin.

  19

  “News?” Dragon asked, looking over his shoulder at Valerian.

  He had asked his lieutenant to report back when he finished the recon, but now resented the interruption. He needed more time alone with his little mercenary. Jade. Her name held an alluring appeal that lured him in deeper, like an intoxicating scent he couldn’t stop following.

  Soft-stepped, Valerian ambled to the bed and stopped at the footboard. “The perimeter is secure, and Lars checked the caves. I have reallocated the men guarding the bridges to patrol outside both the Bridal Chambers and your bedroom.” His eyes roamed over Jade, causing a frisson of rage to surge inside Dragon’s chest. “Is your prisoner talking yet?” There was a slightly irritated inflection in his question.

  “She will,” Dragon answered.

  “She better.” Valerian raised a brow, his gaze sliding toward the empty tray on the nightstand and back to Dragon. “By now, the Academy has most assuredly sent a second assassin, and we can’t keep Sol Palace under lock forever.” He grimaced, shaking his head slightly. “In case you’ve forgotten, you have a wedding to attend in a few weeks, and your werewolf and vampire friends are arriving soon.”

  Lobo and his family, alongside Gabriel, were coming to celebrate Dragon’s nuptials. The guest quarters were being prepared presently, and a nursery had already been added for Valemir, Valentine and Mirella’s son.

  “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Dragon loved Valerian as much as he loved Lars, but sometimes, his lieutenant tested his patience to its very limits.

  “As you asked, Carellian is being herded to the terrace.” As Valerian spoke, the draglet whinnied from the outside, flying to the edge where he met Contessa, who promptly turned her back to him.

  Valerian stepped onto the terrace to speak with the riders who had just flown with Carellian, waited for them to leave on their steeds and remained outside a moment longer as if he needed the time to calm himself. A minute or two later, he came back inside, bowed as was due to the Solarian High Lord and turned on his heels, heading toward the door. His forced formality grated on Dragon’s nerves since Valerian rarely bothered with it, but at least his friend had decided against confronting Dragon in front of his prisoner, and that counted for something.

  In truth, Valerian’s concerns were legitimate, and as the head of the High Lord’s personal guards, he was entitled to act upon any threat against Dragon, real or perceived. The one acting out of character was Dragon, and he well knew the truth behind his erratic behavior.

  The woman staring at him with eyes the shade of the darkest night was the reason for his temporary insanity. It was a spell, he told himself, and it would pass as soon as he solved the puzzle that was the assassin.

  “Leave me with your lieutenant,” she said.

  Sharp pain stabbed his chest as if an incandescent poker had pierced flesh and bones, reaching his heart. His hand lowered of its own volition and pressed against her flat stomach, his thumb resting beneath the waistband of her leather pants. The unyielding fabric pushed his finger deeper down and solicited a gasp from her parted lips.

  Mine, his dragon growled loud in his mind, puffing heated breath.

  “You’ll stay here, where I can see you.” He should have raised his hand, honoring his promise not to touch her unless necessary. But the need to mark her was growing stronger, and Dragon was only a man after all.

  “You know I won’t talk.” Jade breathed in short pants, her body writhing under his hand. Her blood pulsed fast under his thumb, and he couldn’t help but moving it in small circles, pressing against her abdomen.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he admitted.

  With each passing minute, Jade’s pull became harder to resist, and he grew tired of fighting his dragon.

  His head dipped, but he still had enough control over his body to stop before his mouth crushed hers. Hovering over her lips, he waited for her rejection.

  20

  Jade froze. From a distant corner of her mind came the notion that she should say no, because this man would honor her will, but she couldn’t talk, wouldn’t talk. If she did, then Dragon’s lips would never touch hers. Her enemy was that kind of man. She knew it, deep inside her heart, that he would never take what wasn’t freely offered.

  The pressure of his thumb deepened against her skin, touching something inside her, provoking a tsunami of feelings that sent her senses reeling. A moan formed in the back of her throat, but she didn’t let it out. Instead, she closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, inviting him to close the gap.

  The moment his lips brushed hers, tears welled behind her eyelids.

  She had never been kissed before.

  He felt like velvet, warm and soft, but also refreshing, and moved against her lips with slow movements. Her heart exploded in her chest when his tongue traced the seams of her mouth, back and forth, then gently pushed, demanding entrance. Suddenly, her training kicked in, reminding her that she should take full advantage of the moment and bite his nose, his lips, even his tongue, but she didn’t.

  Goosebumps covered her skin as if she were falling, even though she was strapped to the bed. Dizzying vertigo spun her head, but amidst the assault of sensations she had never experienced before, her mouth parted for him. His tongue entered her, caressing, stroking, awakening a side of Jade she had repressed a long time ago.

  She arched her back, pulling at her restraints, needing to touch him, needing him to touch her. Only his hand splayed against her stomach and his mouth united them, and it wasn�
��t enough.

  His lips kept sliding over hers in a subtle dance that ignited her senses, stoking the flames of her desire to unbearable heights until she couldn’t help but whimper. His tongue prodded deeper inside her mouth as his thumb slid lower, edging closer to her mound without moving further down. The pressure titillated Jade, causing the fire consuming her body to burn hotter.

  “Dragon—” she whispered when he leaned away, severing the contact between them.

  She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, a look of wonder in those ultramarine pools that had gone a shade of blue so bright it blinded her. Only then did she realize what she had just done, and shame replaced the swirling emotions keeping siege to her body and mind.

  For the first time in her career as an assassin, Jade had surrendered to her enemy.

  “Don’t,” he said when she shied away from him, and his command was the sweetest of whispers. “What happens between us is nothing to be ashamed of.” The hand that had coaxed her visceral reaction left her stomach and traveled up to her face. Caressing her cheek with tender strokes, he cupped her chin and dipped his face low, capturing her lips with his.

  This second kiss broke through her barriers faster than the other one had, and it had taken little to yield to him the first time.

  For once, Jade’s body commanded her actions, shutting off her mind. His mouth encompassed her entire universe, the softness of his lips meeting hers as he led her down an unknown path. For all her years of training, she was grossly unprepared to stand up against this man’s demands. Had she been in possession of her brain, she would have hated herself for being so weak, so easily manipulated by the mere hint of what could happen between lovers. But her body craved for his touch and didn’t care.

  The door opened, Dragon cursed and jerked away from her before addressing the source of the interruption with a harsh, “Valerian—”