Claiming the Dragon King: The Elite Guards Book Two

by Amelia Hutchins

  “Infant hearts, no doubt,” he muttered.

  “The hearts of our enemies,” she retorted. “We don’t do children, that’s your thing, isn’t it? I mean, you did just try to steal the future of Faery from their cribs. Us? We don’t go after children,” she pointed out frostily.

  “If you find a weakness, you exploit it.”

  “Then don’t be so shocked when we do the same,” she countered.

  “Shut your mouth,” he growled.

  Ciara watched as he secured the rope around her wrist silently. She’d made her point, and was shockingly surprised by how much it had sounded as if it should have slid off Ristan’s tongue instead of hers. And where was he? Where were they? Why hadn’t anyone come looking for her? They couldn’t be untraceable; they were the fucking Horde, for Pete’s sake.

  “How many days have we been gone?” she asked softly.

  “Why does it matter?” Blane asked as he finished securing her hands. “Just noticing you’re inside the outer realm and that it’s been over a week?” he asked, lifting a dark brow as he watched her.

  “We’re in the outer realm? Are you insane? There are monsters here!”

  “You think we’re afraid of them? I grew up here, far from my lands. I teethed on their hides, Ciara. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Is that so?” she asked carefully. “Why bother? Your end game is to kill me, isn’t it? Like my father did to your sister. If you’re king, you are the son of Fury, the one killed in our court. So I’m already dead,” she said with a thoughtful tilt of her head. “I’m so fucked right now,” she laughed as if it was funny.

  “She’s not right in the head,” Fyra said from beside them as she shook her head. “She should be afraid.”

  “I told you already,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. “I do not fear death. It’s not dying that you should fear. It’s what happens before you succumb to it.”

  “Tell me, Ciara, what do you fear?” Blane asked as he pulled her close to him. Her eyes grew large, rounded, and she pushed back, away from him. “You fear me.”

  “Not,” she said and had to force her tongue to stay in her mouth as it was the best she could speak without admitting the truth. It was hard enough to play on words and keep her wits intact where he was concerned. Childish, yeah, but he was dead-on. She felt things with him. She felt emotions when he touched her, and she didn’t like it one bit. Over the years, she’d touched men or been touched in passing. A bump of the shoulder here or there, an innocent touch, but she’d never connected to another person. Ristan said it was because she’d been broken in transition; that her mind had unhinged. That it had done something to her which prevented her from connecting with others. Or, it could have been the endless torture she’d endured. It was a toss of the coin.

  Ciara had issues with being touched by anyone. It didn’t pertain to just one person, but more anyone who tried to get too close. She’d had a difficult time even with her niece and nephews and had forced herself to endure it to appear normal, or as normal as she could around her family. She knew she was damaged from her father, from what he’d done to her. It wasn’t something she could force to go away and had learned to live with it. Ristan had explained to her that she needed to appear normal to outsiders, and she’d somehow managed it. But Blane could touch her, and she didn’t recoil from him, and that bothered her. A lot.

  Damn right she was scared of him, but she wasn’t sure why exactly or that his touch should make her sick, and it didn’t. She hadn’t been able to say more than not, which meant saying she was not, was a lie. She glared at the smile that spread across his full mouth, needing to wipe it from this world.

  “You fear me,” he mused as Fyra started back towards camp. “Why is that?” he wondered aloud.

  “I don’t like you,” she said softly with a deadly glare. “You’re a lizard, and I fear lizards. I mean, especially flying ones.”

  “That’s not why you fear me,” he laughed as he pulled her closer even as she struggled to maintain a safe distance between them. “So why would a princess who doesn’t fear death fear me?”

  “Hold your breath while you try to sort it out,” she said with a saccharine smile on her lips.

  Chapter Nine

  They didn’t make it to the village or wherever they were heading to by nightfall. Ciara was lost in her mind when Blane halted the horses and announced that they’d make camp beneath the stars again. She was helped from the horse by Remy and watched as Blane dismounted smoothly. They’d ridden for hours, and the weather in this place was insanely off. It changed from smoldering heat to bone-chilling cold in seconds without warning.

  Blane hadn’t offered her a cloak again, but then she figured this far away from home no one would notice her anyway. He didn’t seem bothered by her discomforts, but then she wasn’t his guest either. His arms had been the only warmth she’d been given, and it seemed to work for the most part, minus the rest of her body that heated at his treacherous touch.

  It was starting to turn cold again already, and none of the party seemed aware of it but her. As if being dragon meant they were immune to the cold elements in the outer ring. She wasn’t, and she preferred home where she could curl up next to a fire with one of Synthia’s books when the weather turned cold.

  “No fire, we’ll rest for a few hours and then make the rest of the journey home.”

  Ciara huffed at the news, unable to stave off the cold that seemed to wrap its icy fingers deep in her bones. Her strength was waning, her hunger a never-ending reminder that she was fucked. Not in the satisfying meal kind of way either, not that she’d know from experience, other than what Max had been able to do with her. It wasn’t as if she could sift either, with whatever lack of magic continued to prevent her escape in these parts.

  “Give me your hands,” he growled, irritated by the fact that no matter how fast they had trekked into the outer realm of Faery, they’d failed to make it to their destination. Ciara, on the other hand, was grateful they hadn’t. “Make the bed,” he ordered as she rubbed feeling back into her hands.

  “As you wish,” she snapped coldly, watching as his gaze held hers captive. “You want a sandwich too?” she smarted off, unsure why her mouth refused to stop when he pissed her off.

  “You and that tongue of yours are going to go too far,” he warned.

  “Don’t like sandwiches?” she asked with an impish grin. “Oh, maybe it’s because you think you haven’t earned one yet? Synthia is always telling Ryder he has to earn it. Maybe you should do the same.”

  “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

  “What? No,” she rushed out the words, appalled that he would even think it. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded as it hit her. “That’s not what that means…son of a bitch!” She hooted with laughter. “Those assholes,” she smiled as she rolled her eyes. “I have to get out more.”

  “Make the bed, Ciara. I’m tired,” he snapped.

  “Make it yourself then,” she challenged as she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a brow in challenge.

  “Make it or I’ll earn that fucking sandwich,” he warned.

  “Only sandwich you’re getting from me is upside your head. Why would anyone want a sandwich after that anyway?” she asked and his eyes narrowed at her as if he was trying to figure something out.

  “Stop playing games,” he hissed.

  She tossed up her hands in frustration and shook her head as she turned to the tent that had been erected while they’d argued. She pushed past the flaps and started on the bed, rolling out the pelt that eased the discomfort from sleeping so close to the ground, then the furs which she unrolled and placed on top of it.

  Ciara closed her eyes, picturing a thick pair of pajamas and then frowned as nothing happened. She had no glamour. Either they were in anothe
r part of the world which held little to no magic, or she’d drained everything she had trying to escape him.

  Her hands rested on her head as she shook it, unwilling to believe she’d tapped her reserve only to run face-first into a dragon, of all things. Her fingers wiped away the tears that threatened to slip as she considered what to do. Leather sucked in the cold, and right now she was freezing. Her teeth chattered, and her fingertips were turning a lovely shade of blue.

  She closed her eyes, praying to Danu that she brought her brothers quickly to end this unexpected vacation. She craved the laughter of her brothers, the endless chatter of the handmaidens, and the protection of the Horde stronghold.

  This sucked, big time. She turned, expecting to march out and tell the dragon right where he could stick it, only to run face-first into his massive chest. Her hands lifted, settling on his thick muscles before she yanked them back as if he’d burned her.

  “You should announce your presence instead of letting me walk face-first into your surprisingly…chest. Your chest,” she amended.

  “Surprisingly what?” he inquired.

  “Nothing,” she whispered as she lowered her gaze away from him. “I don’t have anything to sleep in, and this leather is freezing.”

  “You’re cold,” he pointed out.

  “Very,” she admitted with a deep frown marring her lips.

  “Good,” he said, and her eyes snapped to his. “Take your clothes off,” he continued, ignoring the shock that registered in her eyes.

  “I will not,” she scoffed indignantly, digging in her heels.

  “Don’t make me ruin Fyra’s clothes. She’ll be bent over it,” he warned.

  “She can get bent,” she laughed crossly. “I’m not getting naked with you.”

  “You are; one way or another, you will strip. The cold here is too much for your kind, one of the reasons we chose it in the first place. Without my heat, you die, and I need you alive.”

  “I didn’t need you the first night,” she said pointedly.

  “We weren’t deep enough into the outer edges of Faery, now we are. Don’t worry; I won’t fuck you, princess. You’re not even my type. I like mine innocent, untainted, and without so much blood on their hands.”

  “Well then, that should make my clothes melt right off, shouldn’t it?” she asked as she turned away from him to start removing her clothing. She knew he spoke the truth about the cold; she could feel it even now, creeping deep into her tissue as it fought to take hold of her. It wasn’t regular cold; it had the greasy touch of magic in its scent. If she was right, they were close to the Winter Court, which meant she was far beyond where her brothers would be searching for her.

  She shed the pants and shirt and stood there shivering with her back to him, hoping her waist-length dark hair kept him from checking out her ass. She felt him closing the distance between them; the heat his body radiated sent her body tingling with need.

  “Turn around,” he demanded huskily.

  She did as he asked, lifting her eyes to his as he stared down at her. His fingers cupped her chin, forcing her to concede as his other hand slowly touched her abdomen. Panic took hold, and she jerked her body away from him, uncaring that the icy air bit her flesh.

  Triumph lit in his eyes as he oversaw her. “You’re terrified of me.”

  “Not.”

  “Tell me you’re not afraid of my touch.”

  “I don’t like you,” she said, hating that the words she wanted to say didn’t come out. Fae couldn’t lie, which meant she had to find a way around it. “Terrified? No.” She wasn’t terrified, his touched terrorized her senses.

  “You can’t say it, can you?”

  “I say a lot,” she replied icily, shivering as the air bit at her naked flesh. “Blane,” she hissed as a tremor rocked through her, ice nipping bitingly against her flesh as if frostbite was setting in. She was red, bright red from the cold that threatened to consume her and ice slid over her fingertips, putting proof to his claim. She wouldn’t live through the cold without him.

  “Bloody hell,” he snarled as he pulled her closer and held her body to his as he shed his clothing. His flesh touched hers, and she moaned as the cold faded away, replaced by comforting heat. “Walk to the bed so you can get into the covers while I take off my pants.”

  “Leave them on,” she babbled as she pulled away and walked to the pelt, slipping into the furs. Her teeth chattered, freezing cold air threatened to devour her flesh. “How does anyone live here?” she demanded.

  He chuckled as he used his thumbs to remove his button and push his pants down. Her eyes moved of their own volition. His cock was massive, even in its current state. Her eyes closed, tightening as she trembled from the biting cold. Her entire body jerked as the covers were lifted and he slid in, pulling her body flush against his.

  “We live here because your kind cannot,” he purred as he tested her curves, allowing his fingers to trail over her bare hip. His heat was instant; it filled her with it, removing the bone chill she’d thought would end her life as he dallied with his jeans. One way she didn’t want to die? Freezing to death, which was very possible here.

  “We can’t die from it,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, you can,” he corrected as his hand moved to her belly, slowly trailing his fingers up the globes of her breasts. She shivered, and it had very little to do with the cold air around them. Her breath made clouds in the air, and she lifted her face, staring up at him as he leaned over her. “You share a mother with Ryder, don’t you?”

  “And Dristan,” she confirmed.

  “And she’s dead?” he asked carefully.

  “No, she’s alive. She’s…very broken,” she admitted. “She was the only female to sire more than one child for Alazander. He…preferred her screams to his other women’s, I think. I used to hide from him, and when I did, he would hurt her to get me to come out of where I had hidden. My brothers begged me to stop, but he was a monster. One who liked to hurt me.”

  “And yet you bear no proof of it,” he pointed out. “The Horde King scars with his touch, I know. I’ve seen many scars from him.”

  “In the beast form, yes,” she answered. “Not in his true form,” she said before she worried her lip with her teeth. “It wasn’t the beast who terrified me as a child. It was my father.”

  “And what did he do, spank you?” he growled. “Poor Ciara, abused by the monster that created her,” he sneered. “You were probably spoiled by him and trained to torture from birth.”

  “He threatened to kill my brothers as I watched it. When they grew older, stronger, he threatened to toss me to the red caps so that they could breed me. Then when he realized he would not sire another daughter, he placed me in a cage. For years I was kept away from everyone, even my brothers. When I was finally allowed out, it was only because the time came for transition. He wanted to watch me suffer, to see how strong I was, and whether I could come out of it whole.”

  “And did you?” he asked with a frown.

  “No, not at all,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t transition fully. I was stuck in it, unable to feed, unable to find release. Eventually, Ryder came.”

  “And you took him as your lover?” he asked, staring down at her with a look of disgust burning in his eyes.

  “No, he’s my brother. He brought a male to me, and he helped me through it. He risked his life to save me.”

  “And you killed him for it?” he questioned.

  “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” she snapped. “Max was different, he was…uninterested in me. He never touched me, and yet he fed me. He stopped the pain that had been endless until him. He didn’t expect anything or ask for anything in return. He risked his life to help me, so no, I didn’t murder him. He is the one male who is allowed to touch me, to feed m
e.”

  “And does he satisfy your needs other than hunger?”

  “My needs?” she asked with a dark look. His eyes were doing things to her, bad things. She moved her gaze away from them before his voodoo magic could muddle her brain.

  “Did he make you scream? Or fuck you so hard that you crawled the next day because your pretty pink flesh was too sore, too swollen to walk?” he asked, and her gaze drifted back to his.

  “Max doesn’t like girls,” she pointed out crossly.

  “But he feeds you?” he asked curiously, disbelief layering his words.

  “Yes, he does. And yes, it’s amazing.”

  “Amazing, huh?” he whispered huskily before he lowered his mouth to hers and let it hover there as his breath fanned her lips. He let his lips brush against hers, growling as he pushed them flush with hers, pushing his tongue into her depths.

  Ciara moaned, opening to Blane’s slow invasion. She’d stop him in a moment, but her curiosity was piqued. Her tongue dueled with his, slipping around it and caressing it as his body leaned further against hers. His fingers captured her hair as the other one pushed her beneath him. Her hands caught his face, holding him in place as she struggled to get more of him.

  Her legs parted, allowing him to cradle his body between them. She felt his dick rubbing against her and paused, knowing she had to stop this. Curiosity was about to kill the pussy…or was it cat? She needed to pay more attention when Ristan spoke.

  “Blane,” she murmured as he adjusted his cock, pressing it against her entrance. She pushed him away, untangling her limbs from him, and then grabbed for him again as the air instantly burned her flesh with its chill.

  He struggled to get his breathing under control as she did the same. She lay there freezing as he stared at her as if she’d started this thing between them. His gaze was loathing, as if he’d hated what they’d just done. Her sex ached, literally ached to be filled…by him. Her pussy was wet, embarrassingly so. Her body had never reacted to Max like this, or anyone else. It was as if she had no control over it. She turned on her side, facing away from him to hide from his penetrating stare.