by May Sage
The barbarian was rather normal, she could tell.
“If you want my clothes off me, intruder, you only have to ask,” he breathed against her skin, never touching it, but so close…
He was hot. That was, but also genuinely, twenty degrees higher than her own body temperature at the moment. There wasn’t anything she wanted more than to share that blistering heat.
Oh hell. Xian was a Klint; her society did not do the whole teasing thing: when they wanted to have sex, they did. She’d seen some aliens dance around each other and judged that it was some strange kind of torture. She’d been right.
His warm breath against her cold skin was like a shock wave aimed right to her clit and she was ready to party, wrapping her arms around his large shoulders and spreading her legs to give him all the access he might want.
But, incontestably proving that he was a sadistic heathen, Beneth Tharshen just laughed and pulled away from her.
“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly, retreating out of the room before calling out, “sleep well, wench. Tomorrow, you will be interrogated.”
The next hours were torture; horny, and still pretty damn freezing, Xian shivered away as each hour became even more frigid. Then, an eternity later, the barbarian was back.
She glared at him until she saw that he had a tray in hand. With food. More amazingly yet, there was a pot of something that was steaming.
She didn’t care what it was: it was hot. Xian unashamedly rushed to wrap her hands around the pot, and held it close to her chest.
Shocking her, Beneth put the back of his hand on her forehead, first, then her hands, and her legs, ending at the tip of her feet.
Casually, with a shrug for emphasis, he said, “You’re adapting.”
Asshole.
“Right. Start at the beginning. Do not lie.”
Xian had given her story seven times. She’d revealed her rank and even her family connection – she didn’t like to play that card but if it meant them getting her a damn transmitter, she was happy to recite her entire family tree backwards and forwards.
“So, you’re a princess,” Beneth grimaced at the word.
“I’m a freaking commander in the Imperial army, you wretched barbarian.”
“Mh. That makes you a valuable, probably flexible wench of average strength. Good.”
Xian’s mouth opened in shock, until she saw a smirk break free on his face.
Someday, somehow, she was going to kick his balls.
“Look, I ran into some trouble on my last mission. All I need is to get to call my brother or my cousin for help – I’ll pay the interstellar premiums.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
She hadn’t heard that right. She couldn’t have.
“What?”
“Not yet, in any case. Say I believe you – I don’t, but let’s just say I did. I give you a transmitter, but actually, you’re the spying cunt everyone else says you are. You give your friends the location of our city, our post of defense, a warfleet appears and boom, just like that, Dragnes is stripped of its only city.”
Xian massaged her temples, willing away the whole nightmarish situation she found herself in. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand his position, frankly, the Empire wouldn’t have just released a potential spy.
If they’d been allies, rather than systems that vaguely acknowledged each other’s strengths, things might have been different.
“Flip that story. Let’s say, you execute me, my brother and my cousin look for me, find out what happened – then, they will unleash hell on Dragnes, let me assure you.”
She might not have the best relationship with her relatives but that, she didn’t doubt for one moment.
“I did not talk of any execution, wench. Think what you must, but even us barbarians actually understand the concept of politics. You’ll be watched closely, for a time. If and when you’re judged worthy of our trust, I will see that you are returned where you belong.”
Thirty
Mate
His little wench was worthy of their trust; he’d known it on day one, and every day since, she’d proved it. She did her share of work, never complaining about any task she was given, and his warriors liked to train with her: the woman was ruthless. She would have been one fine rider if she’d been born in this world.
He knew it was time to call her family and let her go home. Every time he told himself that, he felt like snarling at himself, and went to kill something in the wilds just to settle down.
The problem was that she fit in; not only with his people, but at his table, and in his home. He did not interact with her overmuch, but he’d noticed just about everything she did.
That morning, their routine was interrupted when a large ship clouded their dark winter skies, hovering over the city.
Their scouts were back.
Dragnars had very little interest in conquering or discovering the world around them, but that did not close their eyes to the concept of those who would have wanted to own them. Whenever they heard of a new threat arising, they checked it out – and generally eliminated it before moving on.
A few thousand years ago, back when they’d had three suns rather than two, some of the scouts had wanted more for themselves – they called themselves Klints, these days.
He wondered how long it would take for Xian to realize that. He’d heard her remark upon the similarly of their traditions – the elders, the temples, their salute – but she hadn’t connected the dots, yet.
How she entertained him.
Beneth went to greet the returning warriors, hugging Karsh when he jumped out of his ship.
His oldest friend and first companion in arms was always sorely missed.
“How was this excursion?”
“Entertaining. Anything new around here?” Karsh asked jokingly, because frankly, nothing really changed.
Years passed. Children grew and had children of their own. Some men passed when the boredom and the solitude grew too much for their souls.
Beneth smirked, because for once the answer was yes. There was news.
A few hours later, he was not smirking; he was shooting bullets at his friend’s back. The man shamelessly hogged Xian, charming her all the way through dinner.
Beneth knew murder was not quite warranted, but surely no one would think badly of him for maiming Karsh for directing his smiles where they did not belong?
After dinner, Karsh joined him in his study, an annoying smirk firmly in place.
How infuriating.
“What a catch, B. You know she’s an Adelei, and an Asther?”
He had, in fact. Knowledge was power and Beneth liked power. He’d traced the linage of the Klint Emperor, and had been a bit taken aback to realize that the two most exemplary lines of warriors the Klints had taken with them when they’d left Dragnes had been unified in one family.
Anyone could become WarLord of Dragnes: it was simply a matter of fighting it out. When the previous ruler died or retired, those who dared battled until only one man stood, in the Trials. The Klints occasional revived that tradition, too. Yet since the beginning of time, only three families had made the cut: his and both of hers.
Reading the eager expression his friend shot him, Beneth realized what that overture had been about.
“You think I should bind her to me.”
“As your advisor, I’d certainly encourage you to at least consider it.”
Beneth frowned; he hadn’t considered it, not really. He knew she wanted to leave. She’d asked almost everyday, at first.
Besides, a woman such as her most probably had a fair few prospects back home – men who shared her values.
“If you don’t,” his friend added, “I certainly will.”
Without ever willing himself to, Beneth was holding Karsh by the throat and snarling.
Oh, boy.
“Sorry,” he said, startled at his own reaction. “That was out of line.”
; “Yes,” his friend chuckled, rather cheery for someone who’d almost met his maker. “That was rather bestial of you.”
Beneth stared, knowing exactly what Karsh was suggesting, and wondering why it had even crossed his mind.
“She is not my mate,” he claimed, wondering why his tone made it sound like a question.
They both knew it was an impossibility. Beneth knew his mate was dead, because over a century ago, he’d gone through the madness.
When a Dragnar grew apart from his mate, be it from distance or death, he became mad. So much so only death or strong, painful binding spells could deliver them.
One year, he’d suffered, bled and been tortured on a daily basis to control his inner beast. His mate must have died around that time.
Unless…
Unless he’d met her and unknowingly left her. He’d never considered that option, because he couldn’t recall meeting any stranger who’d stood out, that year.
Well, no females in any case.
“I asked Xian if she’s ever been here before. She came as a child, during your Trials. She came just before the madness claimed you.”
Beneth was silent, numb while he processed those words, turning them around to make sense of them.
For so long he’d taken for granted that he had no mate. That the children he might father would come from a political, strategic and necessary union, solely agreed upon to carry his legendary line. So long, he’d believed there would be no light at the end for him, no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much his people thrived under his rule.
Yet this folly Karsh spoke of made sense, on a basic level. As a child, Xian wouldn’t have been subject to the madness – not before puberty in any case. And if there had been a child amongst the sea of foreign diplomats he hadn’t bothered to befriend, he would not have recalled it.
“Fuck.”
“That just about covers it.”
Xian
That was it, enough was enough. She’d worked her damn ass off for months and she deserved it. It was past time.
That morning, after sparing with the warriors, she just walked right to Beneth, who stopped kicking his equally large and intimating friend when she approached.
She planted herself there, glared at him to show she meant every word when she stated: “I want my own dragon.”
It looked fucking awesome, and she fucking deserved a chance to ride, too.
The male had cleared his expression, on his guard, apprehensive; after her request, he looked relieved. Weird.
She was pretty sure he was going to be nice about it, but when it came, his response was simple and final:
“No.”
What the heck? He must be kidding. Kids of twenty got the chance to roam the wild and haunt their own dragon, for heaven’s sake!
Beneth’s friend, Karsh, was thinking something along the same line because, smiling from ear to ear, he said: “Come on. The girl wants a dragon. Seems like a good idea from where I’m standing.”
Thank you, she mouthed, and the guy winked as Beneth sent him a warning look she wasn’t really getting.
Then, he turned to her, surprising her by actually explaining himself.
“When a Great Beast bows to a Dragnar, we form a link – a binding of sorts. It gains a stronger understanding of the world from our mind, and we gain their strength, as well as their longevity. It’s a bond for life that both rider and dragon need to be healthy. How do you plan to charter your dragon around in those puny little ships you Klints like to prance around in?”
Oh. Her protest died on her lips; damn him for making a compelling case.
That explained why, while their crews were relatively small, the Dragnar warships were gigantic.
After considering his words for a minute, Xian realized what he’d just told her: letting her go home was part of the plan. She should have been elated; instead, her stomach dropped to her feet.
Home.
She had a great job and… that was about it. Her cousin and brother were ok, really, but they’d never been on the same wavelength. They didn’t understand why she felt more comfortable commanding an army than being a socialite. They didn’t get that she wasn’t happy unless she could let some steam out, preferably by kicking stuff outdoors.
Here, she did various tasks to earn her keep, but normalcy was spending two hours sparing, every single day, just because it relaxed everyone. What she considered essential for her wellbeing was accepted – better yet: expected.
She liked Dragnes, despite the cold, despite the slow, simple life everyone led. If that made her more of a barbarian than a Klint, so be it.
There was no place for her, though. People asked her to clean stuff and organize dull paperwork, because she knew nothing of their customs, their technology, their ways. She was the typical old fart still holding an entry level position.
Frankly, she was used to being at the top, in control of decisions. Her position just wasn’t satisfying her ambition.
Could she stay and change that? Find some sort of a job she liked?
Would they even allow her to stay?
“Fine. But I really would like to ride one; is there a way I can just hop in on someone else’s?”
Beneth growled and Karsh smirked – it was becoming a thing.
“You’d get torn apart for trying. You can ride with someone else, and then, only if the dragon does accept you.”
“But I’ve seen little kids riding dragons.”
“No dragon would harm a child,” he replied, offended and appalled at the very idea.
That showed her just how much she knew about this world.
“B, give the girl a chance,” Karsh pleaded. He was officially her new favorite person right now. “She wants to ride. Let’s see if the big guy lets her.”
Beneth
Beneth wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d called Tsargarst with the familiar clicks of his tongue.
Not that.
The dragon hadn’t been far; he was landing in the training area in no time, showing off his grand and magnificent wings as was his way.
Without waiting for instructions, Xian approached the beast, quite slowly, her eyes never leaving his.
The dragon was completely motionless when she tentatively put her hand on his belly.
Then she scratched it and a roaring, deep noise escaped him as his scale heated, glowing blue.
Oh hell.
“Back off. Back off now,” he ordered her, leaping on his feet to rush towards her before the worst happened.
He knew there would be no saving him from the madness if his mate burned before his eyes.
By the time he’d made it next to her, Tsargarst had dropped his head next to her and tilted his neck, offering it to her.
What. The. Fuck.
He wasn’t sure he understood.
“He’s not attacking me, he’s purring,” she gushed, scratching the spot he presented as the earth shattering growl got even deeper.
“Dragons don’t purr.”
“Well, that shows what you know.”
Beneth glared at his Great Beast, as if to say, really? This submission was pure and simple treason. The fucking dragon still jumped at his throat every single time he woke him up, yet he let a stranger pet him, and he purred, now?
But then, it hit him.
To Tsagarst, this woman was no stranger. She was his rider’s mate. Dragons were pretty black and white about that sort of thing. Many a warrior had recognized their mates based on their mount’s reaction.
“I can totally ride you, right?” she asked Tsargarst in the kind of silly voice people only use with babies. “Yes, yes I can.”
Then, without waiting for his opinion on the matter, she was climbing up his neck, and walking right behind his wings, where Beneth kept his saddle. She sat there, before poking her head above the wings and addressing him.
“You’re coming or what?”
Xian
Things shifted after t
he ride. She couldn’t exactly place her finger on it, but suddenly, she was let in the folds of the community. People asked for her opinion. She got hellos from random strangers –including those who’d glared at her not so long ago.
More noticeably, was her change of profession – she graduated from random busybody to head of the household; she’d kept that position for long enough to realize they were treating her as their master.
There was still plenty of work for her to do, but its nature had changed from one extreme to the next. The servants asked where things were to go and what dinner should be served. They came to her with their issues and she found herself falling into the familiar role without problem – she knew just how to check on the payroll and ensure vacation times were given justly. She could tell them how to organize the banquets. The question was, why was she suddenly treated like she’d married Beneth? He certainly didn’t give that impression.
When he looked at her, it was in a cautious, suspecting way; she’d ever seen signs of admiration. He hadn’t teased her like the first day, or even called her wench for a while, now. He kept his distance.
That was a problem because if there was anything as tempting as a hunky, sexy, mysterious, unapproachable piece of man candy, she was sure it was jealously kept by the gods.
Xian had never needed a recreational room as much as she needed one right now, but for some unfathomable reason, the Dragnars didn’t have one.
They were similar to Klint in practically every way. Xian had even seen some wounds – and they bled blue, just like her. If she had to give one, just one difference, it would be their approach to pleasure and release. Sex was not spoken about openly here. While some males were definitely attracted to her, she hadn’t been asked for a little relaxing mutual gratification, not even once. Good thing, too, as it saved her the trouble of turning them down. Annoying as it was, she wasn’t horny, unless she saw, spoke of, or daydreamt about a certain WarLord…
Xian was at a loss. She’d been led to believe she was attractive. The man was obviously single given the fact that she governed his home. Why didn’t he want her?