by Renee Field
Still kissing him, she snaked a hand down his chest, taking the time to feel her way past his throat. His pulse picked up when she pushed on the bruise still sensitive from their earlier far-too-fast romp.
“Are you going to keep your hands off me all night?” she asked, her fingers tweaking his nipples as if she knew her actions would send him over the edge.
He thought to answer yes, but knew it would be a lie. If he had to last another five minutes with his hand bracketed behind him, Geirsson thought he might go insane with lust. However, keeping the wild beast at bay and leashing that urge to take what she offered shook his confidence. One touch of her silky skin might be his undoing and he needed her to want him.
Gulping, he pushed off from the ledge. She came along with him. Since they were both tall and the hot pool shallow, their feet settled to the bottom and the water brushed past their waists. The cool winds from the mountain caves easily scaled over them from their torsos up. The combination of hot and cold was exactly what they needed.
“Do you bring many women to your lair?” asked Maeja, her breath panting with refueled need.
Speaking dragonese, he answered. “You, my lady, are the first and last.”
Shyly, she cast her eyes down but he saw the smile. His words pleased her. It was a step in the right direction. There were a lot more steps he hoped they would take together but getting her to admit she wanted him would probably be the biggest.
Moving slightly out of her reach, Geirsson looked at her, tilting her head up in the process. “I have admired your strength since the beginning. Admitting you want me will not diminish you.”
She laughed. “Is that what all of this is about? Your pride wants to hear me say I want you? What about my pride? I have a lot to lose with that declaration.”
This time he laughed. “Saying you want me does not equate to losing anything. Is it too much for you to put away that damn royal crown you always wear? Tonight this is about you and me. It’s about our want. Embrace the dragons we are and at least admit that to yourself.”
Maeja launched herself at him. She attacked his mouth with that beastly passion that had simmered within her, and as wild and wicked as it felt, he also tasted her anger. Geirsson wanted her passion but not her pissed off at him.
Forcing her off him, he said, “And how did that make you feel?”
“I thought that was what you wanted. Me, ripping you apart with want. Me, letting the beast free.”
Geirsson sighed. “No, Maeja, I want you to enjoy our passion and take pride in being a dragon, who just might want to please her mate for the night. This is not about duty. It is about wanting. Maybe bringing you here was a mistake.”
Geirsson stepped completely out of the pool. He felt her follow his movement but then she turned away from him to settle on the edge of the pool.
“This is not easy for me, Geirsson. I have fought being a dragon for centuries. I am not ashamed of who I am but if I ask my subjects not to change than how can I live with myself if I embrace who I really am? Do not answer that. You asked if this was about duty. Yes. Does it feel more than that with you? Yes. Teach me to be passionate. I want to please you because I have a feeling pleasing you will ultimately please me.”
Geirsson turned to look at her. She sat on the ledge, her legs swaying in the bubbling water, and for once she looked vulnerable. Maeja had been queen so long, putting her subjects above her own needs, that it was difficult for her to embrace her feminine part.
Still looking at her, he moved up behind her back, watching as her spine snapped to attention. Their dragon instinct did not like having someone, anyone at their back. The fact she willingly sat still told him more than her words.
Geirsson knelt down behind her. His hands skimmed her back. He pushed her still-wet hair off her neck and tilted her head back, the need to see her eyes clawing at him. “I will teach you pleasure, Maeja, of that have no doubt. Do you trust me?”
She gulped. He felt her throat constrict but kept his hand splayed along her neck. The submissive pose was provocative. His other hand cupped her right breast. She gasped when his thumb brushed her already-pebbled nipple.
“Answer the question, Maeja.”
“Yes,” she said. Her breath became a hot gush of steam and for once she did not look fazed by her body’s reaction.
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered.
Immediately, she complied. “Now show me how you pleasure yourself.”
“What?” she gasped, her eyes flashing at him.
“Do not tell me you do not know how, for that would be a falsehood. Show me, Maeja.” His fingers continued to tweak her nipple until it became a sharp, achy point. He moved his hand to her other breast and attended to its needs. Her panting was delightfully arousing.
“This is about trust?” she asked.
“Trust and pleasure,” he reminded her.
Closing her eyes, she inched her hand down to her wet cunt. Damn the murky water, thought Geirsson. Then he realized he could change into his dragon and see all her pleasure colors, but he wanted to save that for later.
He dragged her out of the water and she gave a startled gasp when he settled her exactly how he wanted on the outside ledge of the pool. Lying flat on her back with her legs bent and spread-eagled, she used her hands to leverage her torso up off the cool ground.
“I could not see what you were doing,” he stated, delighting in her small giggle. “Continue.”
“I seem to have lost my mood,” she said, giving him a look he immediately deciphered.
Leaning over her, he settled his weight on her satiny skin. His erection nestled close to her wet pussy. Her mood had not evaporated but he planned to add fuel to her fire. Puffing out a cold breath, he blew on her breasts. Her skin puckered with delight. Her head lowed back and her eyes closed. Then Geirsson started kissing her. His lips were slightly cool so that every nip, every kiss could be felt to the marrow of her bones. Her delicate skin blistered with goose bumps from his ministrations and from her growing panting sounds he could tell she loved what he was doing. Moving lower, Geirsson nudged her legs wider apart and settled his shoulders between the vee of her sex, inhaling her unique scent. Using his tongue, he gave a thorough lick to her cunt, causing her to buck up off the floor.
“That was cold,” she squealed.
“Do you want me to stop?” He did it again to emphasize his point.
Her head shook. “Yes, no…by the Scribes that feels…”
“Wonderful,” he supplied, forking his tongue deep inside her wet folds. Goose bumps flared along her skin but instead of pushing him away her hand gripped his hair, pushing his face deeper into her soaking-wet cunt. Lapping at her in earnest, Geirsson’s cold tongue soon started to heat from the fire within her. As she was on the verge of climaxing, he stopped.
She sputtered in outrage but he ignored her to settle on his heels.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself. I believe you are once again in the mood.” He teased and taunted her on purpose.
Icy-blue eyes stared at him. Openly she met his challenge. She licked her lips and he wondered who was being tortured.
Her hands began a slow perusal of her body and Geirsson felt his breath hitch. Tantalizingly slow, she let them travel across her silky skin like a lover’s caress down past her throat to her breasts. She tweaked her nipples hard as he had minutes ago until a rose-colored flush of desire spread across her skin. Giving her lips another lick, she lowered a hand to her cunt. This time it was Geirsson who gasped when she parted her swollen labia to showcase her small jewel of a clit. Expertly she lubricated her finger with her pussy juices and then moved it to play with her nub. He watched her clit swell with passion until it became a red-hued stone. Unable to stand another moment, he grasped her legs, hauling her ass up to his face. When he licked her puckered hole she bucked up off the floor with his name a cry of desire on her lips.
Unable to talk, Geirsson continued until the sensitive nerve
endings accepted the pleasure he was giving them. Then he snaked his tongue from her perineum to her pussy and all the way up to her glistening clit. Swirling his tongue around her nub, he laved at it until she became a writhing mass of want underneath him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and he loved it. Moving his hand lower, he reached underneath her to her slightly raised rump and gently stuck his finger in her ass. She came apart instantly, hot bellows of fire spewing forth from her mouth as the climax tore through her with an intensity that shocked her.
Faster than he could ever have anticipated she had him on his back, her body claiming his as she plunged her pussy down onto his rock-hard erection. She felt incredible. There was no going back now, thought Geirsson. He let her set the pace, riding him as if the wild beast she could become, wanted freedom. While she resisted the urge to turn into a dragon, her eyes had morphed to dark navy blue, clear evidence of the fight she fought.
Maeja licked her fingers. She used her might to hold him down and when one of her hands splayed across his throat to keep him submissive he found it oddly endearing. Reaching behind her, she used her other hand to find his ass. This time, he cursed in pleasure when she fingered his hole, her wet digit darting in to cause his cock to twitch and his testicles to tighten with the rush of pleasure she stroked with each push of her finger.
Geirsson fought not to come without her. With a lot of willpower he forced his hand to her mound. Seeking her still-pebbled clit that she was grinding into him with every up-and-down motion of her body, he tweaked it. Thankfully she came apart when he did. This time though his dragon appendage could not be stopped. Having scented her healthy egg it delved into the outer layer with relish, causing Geirsson to climax again and again. The effect of what was happening rocked Maeja also. Her pussy cream thickened with fertile desire to seep out of her cunt in earnest. Both were incapable of moving until his appendage snaked back inside his cock and then they were so sexually sated all Geirsson could do was clasp her rag-doll form, bringing her sweaty body to his.
A few minutes later she spoke. “What happened?”
Swiping her sticky hair off her forehead, he grinned at her. “Pleasure, Maeja, pleasure.” Geirsson knew she had no idea what truly had happened. While the idea of what he had done, fertilized one of her eggs, would please her, it wasn’t something he wanted to tell her at the moment.
Then the mountain began to shake. Startled out of their reverie, Geirsson pushed Maeja off him, grasped her arms and raced out of the mountain before she voiced one complaint.
Chapter Seven
Panting from their fast jaunt out of the mountain, they were both further startled when something large crashed into the side of the mountain. Both of them stood still, awaiting the danger that had fallen from the dark skies. Climbing out of the snow was a draconic man. A man who had obviously been in dragon form but had somehow managed to change in mid-flight to a humanoid. The notion was ridiculous. As the draconic man got closer Geirsson shook his head.
“Valdason, what were you trying to do?”
“You know this one?” Maeja’s voice was back to its polished ice-cold business tone. She did not cower or attempt to hide her nudity even from a stranger. Instead Maeja calmly crossed her arms over her chest and watched the man approach.
“My lady, this is Valdason, one of my newly appointed Dragonbane warriors. He is a member of my elite guard. What did you do, attempt to fly and get distracted?”
Valdason walked to within arm’s reach of both of them. Slowly, with an almost tired and sad expression on his stoic face he announced, “No. I came to inform you that a bomb blew up the palace.”
A scream of sorrow and rage tore free from Maeja, causing the mountaintop to shake its own displeasure.
“Take me back,” she commanded.
Geirsson fought within himself.
“No.”
Valdason’s word silenced Geirsson’s thoughts and stilled Maeja’s actions.
Valdason ran a shaky hand through his long, disheveled hair. “That is exactly what they want.”
Geirsson crowded in on his space. The warrior stood his ground, but it was Maeja who spoke.
“Who? Who wants this? I demand you tell me everything you know, Dragonbane warrior…and leave nothing out. Speak dragonese only.”
In the moment of turmoil, when war was ready to break out between the ever-increasing factions that wanted Castra to revert back to the ancient ways, Maeja was taking no chances. Forcing Valdason to speak dragonese was a smart move. With no ability to lie, Geirsson was about to learn Valdason’s secret. He had a sneaking suspicion it was not something he was going to enjoy.
Valdason could not believe how beautiful Maeja was. Dark was giving way to the dawn of a new day and his queen looked flustered and partly exhausted but one hundred percent regal. His lady, as the Ancient Elemental Priests had decreed. His task. His duty. His honor would be avenged with her death. Simple task, they had said. No, he reminded himself, they had ordered it so. The Elemental Priests were rulers of the insidious faction that worked to force Castra back to the old ways and more importantly they ruled his tribe of fellow Air Dragons. Revert to the old ways and all will be well. His tribe would once again rule.
Valdason looked into Maeja’s innocent blue eyes. Her pupils heated warily but with purpose, reminding him why she was his queen. She was smaller than he had thought. He noted how she flanked Geirsson while remaining alone at the same time. He also did not mistake the ritualistic bruising outlined in tinted black on both their necks. They had mated recently. The notion settled as if bad dirt lodged in his stomach. Jealousy, a feeling he had no time for, cascaded through him.
How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? Did she not know what she was doing to them? He was an Air Dragon, born of the elements of the planet and tied to Castra until his death. And like his tribe, if he did not change, turn into dragon form, he would go mad. That madness…that disease was what killed his father, mother and sisters.
“I ordered you to speak, Valdason.”
Her words, spoken harshly, sailed through him with a fierce fire that ignited something foreign with him.
Bowing his head to acknowledge her, he answered in dragonese. “I do not know what happened.” That was true only because the minute he was claimed by Geirsson he had informed his tribe not to keep him abreast of their activities, fearing an encounter such as this.
Geirsson moved closer. Valdason hated how he had come, in such a short span of time, to admire the captain-at-arms. Geirsson, while harsh, was equally fair with his treatment of his warriors. He trained all of them hard, expected each to hold their share in a fight, believed in honor, discipline and the truth. His reward to his men was that once a year he allowed them to change into their true form. That had astounded Valdason. Maybe he too feels the call of madness and knows. Valdason was not certain of that but Geirsson’s obvious leniency of the law allowed his men freedom when so few on the planet experienced it.
“The men. What of my men?” asked Geirsson. Worry was etched tightly in his face.
“I believe most were in the skies, so I think they are unharmed. I ran into Stavor and told him I would track you down to tell you.”
Geirsson turned to Maeja. “We cannot go back. They might be lying in wait.”
“I agree.”
Just then the ground shook. Castra slowed to a halt. All of them felt it. The harmonics that the blue diamond gave off pulsed in a slow-motion beat. With effort, the rotation of the planet resumed itself. The effects were instant. A large jolt and rumble vibrated the mountaintop, causing piles of rocks to rain down on them. Relying on instinct, Valdason morphed back into dragon form, the change so quick he did not think of his actions as he grasped Maeja to him, keeping her safe from the falling boulders. Even with his automatic reflexes he realized the irony. I was sent to kill her and end up saving her.
Maeja allowed Valdason to grasp her to him, and received her third shock of the night. He was an Air Dragon.
A true Ancient Elemental Dragon. A being that should not exist. She had thought Air Dragons belonging to the Ancient Elemental Dragon tribe had become extinct with the ice age.
She had been wrong. The knowledge of what he was did not warm her as it should have. He had deliberately kept his true identity hidden. She knew that instantly once Geirsson sharply sucked his breath in when Valdason morphed into a dragon.
Air Dragons were just that. When they changed they could became invisible, their form churning to become shimmering air molecules. They were the most powerful dragons known to exist. They were the first dragons created when Castra was formed. Ancient. Powerful. And now, one held her in his talons.
The minute the rocks from the mountains settled, he gently set her down. It was not lost on Maeja how carefully each talon retracted, almost with reluctance, as he set her on her feet. Naked like them, he was all muscle. Not as tall as Geirsson, Valdason was solid. Jet-black hair with a wavy curl framed his head.
His cock, unlike Geirsson’s, was circumcised. Maeja loved the rigid, purple hue of his desire, as it stood out sharply for her inspection. A red flush of embarrassment crested his face, reminding her he was a lot younger than Geirsson and her.
His long torso was equipped with six-pack abs and informed her swiftly he was a mighty warrior. His tanned skin was a shade darker than Geirsson’s and his legs were dusted with the perfect amount of dark hair that matched the swathe of hair that covered his chest.
She reclaimed her own space and Geirsson settled next to her. Both Dragonbane warriors had shed their dragon forms to return to their more acceptable humanoid forms. Maeja choked on a sigh. The sight of two powerful Elemental Dragons, Geirsson a Frost Dragon and Valdason an Air Dragon, fed the lust that Geirsson had earlier stoked.