by Ava Sinclair
She comes, her climax milking my cock in a cadence of clutches that draw forth my seed. The release marks the most pleasurable of my life. Once a Drakoryan male takes a true mate, his desire is for no other. I know as I come that no woman has ever pleased me like Isla, my fiery warrior, my perfect flame. I’d sought to put my mark on her, but she has surely marked me as well.
Chapter 12
ISLA
Jayx takes me to the pools. More accurately, he carries me to the pools. I allow myself to relax in his strong arms, because I know he is true. He has offered me his protection and made the same vow as his brother to teach me how to best protect myself. I am surrounded by strength, even as I find my own.
When I think of what I’ve suffered, I still feel the wound in my heart open and bleed. It would be easy to lie down and let my seeping grief drain me of the will to carry on. I am beginning to see that Lady Lyla was right. Perhaps there was some providence to my having survived. Perhaps the fate that had Turin snatch me from that well and bring me here as mate to him and his brothers is shaping a future that will reunite me with my sister.
I sigh with relief as Jayx lowers my love-bruised body into the healing waters. He explains that this is where he and his brothers came to heal after the battle I witnessed from the wall. I lean back, watching the steam rise around me as I recall the battle.
“The combat was far more brutal than I thought it would be,” I confide. “I was afraid Zyvis was going to drive you into the rocks.”
I look over, noting tension in Jayx’s jaw.
“Can a dragon fall to its death?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“You could have died fighting for me?” The thought upsets me, and it occurs to me how much I’m coming to care for Jayx, and for Turin. While Zyvis has been kind to me since my arrival, the fact that he could have dashed Jayx to his death is unsettling.
“I didn’t die.” Jayx turns to me and smiles. “I’m alive, with you. And that’s all that matters. The battle is best put behind us.”
I nod. I am new to the ways of the Drakoryans. If Jayx doesn’t want to relive the battle, there must be a reason.
“What is Zyvis like?” I turn my thoughts to the remaining brother who will bed me.
Jayx removes his skirt and slips into the pool with me. He’s told me that some of the pools are stronger than others and has taken me to the weakest one. I already feel better. The water feels so good; it feels even better when he pulls me to him.
“I don’t want to talk about my brother when you’re naked in my arms. It’s difficult enough to think of leaving to bring in the harvest tomorrow, of knowing once we return, he will take my place in your bed.”
His huge hands slide down to cup my ass and I wrap my legs around his waist, my soft inner thighs pressing against the hard muscles of his torso. The steam from the pool has dampened his hair, causing it to curl slightly in the moist heat. I feel his cock enter me from below, the surface of it changing from smooth to knobby, the textured surface rippling inside me to create sensations that are different from what I experienced in the bedchamber. Jayx fucks me slowly. I whimper as his girth increases, stretching and filling me.
I lean forward and bite his shoulder. His skin is warm and salty. I break my grip and cry out when he pushes his finger against my bottom hole.
“Jayx!” I try to wriggle away, but his cock is lodged so tightly inside me that it holds me fast. I’m locked onto him, and he’s smiling wickedly as his persistent finger breaches the defensive ring of muscle and finds its way inside.
“New pleasures,” he says, fucking my ass with his finger as his cock begins to pulse. It feels so wanton, riding the swell of this pleasure. Yet I cannot stop. Passion rises in me like lava and erupts. It ripples through me as Jayx joins me in mutual climax.
I cling to him, thinking how just a day ago I could not imagine letting myself experience such closeness with a second man. I close my eyes and lean my head on Jayx’s shoulder. He strokes my hair. I know he fears the moment I go to his last brother. I fear it, too, although I don’t know why.
He lifts me from the water and sets me on the edge, settling beside me. There’s a bowl of candied fruit between us. I pick a piece and bite down, enjoying the burst of sweetness on my tongue. I’m still getting used to the variety of food at the castle.
As if sensing my thoughts, Jayx nods towards the morsel in my hand.
“While I am glad we were allowed to take you as a War Bride, I do wish you’d been able to enjoy the feasts that come with claiming day. When this is all over—when we have defeated the ShadowFell once and for all— we will celebrate our victory, and then hold a special feast just to honor you.”
He shifts towards me, a wistful smile on his face. “You’ll love it, Isla. Whole roasted boars stuffed with apples and plums —their skins rubbed with exotic spices—geese, pheasant, more fruits than you can identify. Each village grows a different kind of food. You’ll see when we bring the harvest in tomorrow.” He balls his fist. “Berries as big as your hand. Melons with juices that increase passion or prolong the act of love. Pastries, cakes…”
“We never feasted like that in the village.” I cut him off. Then he looks away as he realizes he has been describing the privilege of rulers to a woman whose village supplied what his kind has forced us to grow.
“Isla. You’re one of us now,” he says. “Once Zyvis takes you, once we are bonded, you’ll be the Lady of Za’vol.”
“Do you think it will be so easy?” I ask.
“You will manage.” He pushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Just as my mother did, just as other Drakoryan brides have done.”
“It’s different for me.” I stand and reach for the sheet Jayx wrapped me in before we left the chamber. I wrap it around myself once more before facing him. “The other women were taken away from village life. It’s easy to forget who you are when you no longer see it. Yet each day, I look out to see the villages from my window.”
He stands. “But for Branlock. It is no more.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “A village is a village. We all grew up with the same rules, the same structure, the same…fear. Fear of your kind.” I pause. “I feel like a traitor, living here in this castle while all those villagers huddle in wind-battered tents until their homes are built.”
“Before our kind, kings of men took women from the villages; it was considered an honor.”
“Is it really that hard for you to understand that a family would find it easier to give a daughter to a man than to a half-dragon?” I sigh in frustration, then soften my tone. “I did not think it would be so, but I believe I can love you, Lord Jayx of Za’vol. And I can love Turin, too. I hope I will be able to love Zyvis. But I will not pretend my old life did not exist.”
He smiles. “You sound like Lady Lyla of Fra’hir.”
“How so?” I cock my head.
“Tythos said she remained loyal to her kin as well. I think this loyalty is a good trait. It shows your strength.”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. “I am glad it pleases you, my lord. For I plan to become even stronger.”
Chapter 13
ZYVIS
It is the day of the harvest. Tonight, after the last of the baskets of grain and fruit have been brought over the mountains I will lie with Isla.
A Drakoryan’s urge to couple is strong. For the last brother to mate, the wait can be painful. The harvest has provided not only a distraction, but an outlet for the heat and energy that have been building inside me since the day of my failed attempt to best my brothers.
“It’s a fair day. Good for the harvest.” Jayx appears at my side. He looks relaxed and happy. He was with her last night. I feel a bubble of jealousy rise within me and look away so he doesn’t see the resentment in my eyes. His very presence reminds me not only of my defeat, but of my shame in having lost control of myself in battle. Jayx has not mentioned it. I should be relieved, yet his mercy in thi
s matter makes me feel even weaker by comparison.
Turin walks over to clap us both on the back. “Harvest day!” He’s grinning broadly and like our other mated brother, looks cheerful and at ease. “By nightfall, our storehouses will be full, and there will be enough to fill the villagers’ storehouse as well. This winter will find us all well-fed.”
“I told Isla once the ShadowFell are defeated, we will hold a feast to honor her,” Jayx says. “A feast worthy of the most beautiful bride in all the Drakoryan Empire.”
“We can’t defeat them until we find them,” I remind my brothers.
“With villages full of maidens and the Mystic Mountain under our constant watch, we won’t have to find them.” Jayx’s tone is certain. “They’ll come to us. And when they do, we will destroy the ShadowFell once and for all.”
The other dragon lords have gathered. We are standing in the valley in an open space beyond the growing settlement. The villagers, who are working to complete the nearly finished storehouse, stop to watch us change into the very dragons that used to terrify them when they lived across the mountains. Today we will be coming not to take their harvest, but to deliver it. I think of what Zelki said when we were in the fields. If he is right, seeing their own storehouse filled with food should soothe some of the anger.
We burst into towers of colorful flame as we shift into our dragon forms. Clouds of dust stirred from our mighty wings billow from the ground as we rise into the air. The air that greets us at the edge of the valley is cold. There is already snow on the south-facing slopes, portending a harsh winter. While Drakoryans can handle the cold as both man and dragon, we prefer warmth. We spend much of the winter feasting in the hall as massive logs crackle in huge stone fireplaces.
This winter, we will have Isla to warm our beds on those long nights. I pump my wings harder, eager to get across the mountains, gather the harvest and return to Castle Za’vol, to mate with Isla and once again feel equal with my brothers.
We fly on, the wind at our backs making the journey an effortless one. As we crest the highest ridge on the range that separates the Drakoryan valley from the villages on the other side, the wind shifts. We are flying into it now.
I hear Jayx’s voice in my head. Brothers … The word is weighted with concern.
I do not have to ask him what worries him. The wind carries a scent from over the mountains—faint but unmistakable. It is the smell of smoke.
The other dragons smell it, too. I look left and right to see their yellow eyes scanning the horizon. Their voices rumble in my head.
No, they are saying. No.
We fly faster, beating our huge wings hard against the wind. There is no mistaking the smell as we near the end of the range where mountains give way to hills. The sense of dread increases the closer we get to the first village.
What we see is as shocking as the cold wind, and as bitter. The ShadowFell have returned to burn Stonecross. But it’s not just the buildings they destroyed. The harvest is burnt, too, the brimming baskets of grain and fruit and vegetables reduced to piles of ash. Columns of smoke rising in the distance reveal that this is not an isolated attack.
Beside me, Jayx roars in anger, a cry echoed by other dragons as we split up to fly to different villages, where our worst fears are confirmed. Not a head of grain remains. Not a grape. Not a turnip. We fly around, circling like carrion birds until we land amid the ruins of villages that once fed us. The air whipping around us feels colder now, the wind more ominous.
My brothers and I have landed in Branlock, where Turin found and rescued Isla. Ironically, while this village had been burned first, the dragons that stole away the maidens and killed all the villagers save for Isla had left the crops. That they return to burn all that we harvested only magnifies the intent.
“This is dire.” I glance over at my brothers.
“Dire may not be strong enough a word.” Turin’s eyes scan the devastation, falling on what was once a mature grove of olive trees. All that remains now are smoldering black nubs on ground burnt to the bedrock. This act of sabotage was carried out with savage glee.
“This is the work of more than one dragon.” Jayx squints his eyes in the haze of drifting smoke.
“Far more,” I agree. “And look…” I point to crisscrossed burn marks on earth outside the village. Not all the attacks were accurate. Those remind me of the trails we would leave when we were just learning to direct our flame.”
“It hardly matters,” Turin says bitterly. He’s picked up the blade of a scythe, all that remains of the tool now that the handle has been burned away. In a gesture of frustration, he hurls it away. We watch it land among the rubble of a cottage. “Their aim was true enough.”
We hear a rush of wind and turn to see four dragons of green, red, blue, and gold winging towards us. They drop down and shift into the human form of our closest friends and allies. The brothers of House Fra’hir — Drorgros, Tythos, Imryth, and Zelki— walk towards us, their grim expressions mirroring our own.
“All gone.” Drorgros puts his hands on his hips. He shakes his head. “We should have brought the harvest back with us each day rather than waiting to gather it all at once.”
“It was impossible,” Jayx replies. “We were transporting villagers back and forth in our haste to gather the harvest ahead of the cold. With the village houses destroyed, they had no shelter.” His voice trails away. He’s not the only one second-guessing our strategy now. We all are. When the ShadowFell returned to find the villages empty, they’d burned the buildings.
“Imryth…” I turn to the middle Lord of Fra’hir. The most scholarly, he has studied the ShadowFell more than the rest of us. “What do you make of this?”
“That this is a different ShadowFell than we have fought before, one as calculating as it is visceral.” He furrows his brow. “This destruction serves a larger purpose, and they know it. They could have burned the harvest along with the villages. Instead, they deliberately waited until Drakoryans and humans had toiled to bring in the harvest before destroying all we had accomplished.”
“So, they wanted to deprive us of food to feed the villagers,” I say.
“It’s more than that,” Imryth replies. “There was another purpose in mind, to sow discord among us and the villagers we protect.”
He turns to us. “How safe will they feel if we couldn’t even protect their crops?”
Chapter 14
TURIN
Despite what he’s done, it’s hard not to feel pity for Zyvis. He’d expected to come home to Isla, not turmoil. But that’s what awaits us.
We return to find that the villagers have finished the storehouse that will now stand empty. They have resumed working on their cottages, but stop working as we approach, no doubt puzzled to see us flying back earlier than expected, then more puzzled still to see we carry no baskets.
Drorgros of Fra’hir is first to land. He is shifting as Jayx and I touch down and transform back to human form. As other dragons land and change, a villager named Releg approaches us, flanked by a group of other men who’d helped gather the crops.
A refugee from the village of Dalry, Releg could easily be mistaken for a dragon lord himself given his unusual size. He nearly stands eye level to me. Were I not Drakoryan, I would fear this man with the bald head and heavy brow.
Releg comes to the empire having lost more than his home. He was a man of influence in Darly, which was the largest village over the mountains. It was also the wealthiest, having produced the most variety of food. His people worked hard to grow it, and this year the crops had been bountiful.
“Where is the harvest?” His voice is gruff, his tone mistrustful.
The last of the Drakoryan have changed. The Lords of Fra’hir are at our side now, the other lords behind us. We Drakoryans face the villagers. There are more of them than there are of us.
“Well?” Releg steps towards us. “Where is the food?”
“Burnt,” Drorgros says. “By the ShadowFell
.”
A muscle in Releg’s grizzled jaw twitches. He looks past us at the other lords, then back at Drorgros of Fra’hir. “By the ShadowFell?” He tilts his chin upward, clenching meaty fists at his side. “Those…terrible dragons you claim destroyed Branlock and Kenrick then returned to burn our houses after finding them empty?”
“There is no claiming.” Drorgros keeps calm. “It is truth, Releg of Darly. They came in the night and burnt the harvest.” He pauses. “All of it.”
Releg stares at Drorgros. His boldness is infectious. The men behind him are staring us down, too. “Is there no food in this place you’ve brought us to?” He asks the question loudly, his voice carrying to those behind him, who begin to grumble.
“There is still food.” I join the conversation, not wanting Drorgros to bear the entire burden of the villagers’ anger. “Our storehouses are well stocked. If we ration…”
“So the only food in the Drakoryan Empire is in the lords’ storehouses? What of our storehouses?” Behind Releg, discontent ripples through the crowd like a wave.
“We cannot help what happened,” Drorgros raises his voice so that it carries above the buzzing of the agitated villagers. “Had the ShadowFell not destroyed the harvest, a portion would have been put in your storehouse.”
“They are false!” From somewhere in the crowd, a voice emboldened by anonymity cries out.
“We are not false!” Jayx steps forward, composed but obviously angrier than Drorgros. He points back towards the mountains. “We are your protectors, not your enemy. Your enemy is out there—the black ShadowFell dragons who burned your crops and took the maidens of Kenrick and Branlock!”
Releg sneers. “ShadowFell? We’ve never seen these black dragons.” His eyes rake over us with disdain. “The only dragons we’ve seen are the ones who change into the men standing before us…those are the only ones we’ve seen take our daughters.” He glares at us. “And now they steal our food!” He turns back to the crowd. “Be not deceived by this trickery! They have hidden the harvest! They keep it for themselves.”