Cairngorm Dragons 1
Dragon's Mate
Braemuir is the chieftain of the Clan and a shape-shifter. He must find a mate and impregnate her before the Gathering of the Clan at the Summer Solstice if he is to stave off a challenge for the leadership.
An unknown black dragon and his mate are trying to get rid of Braemuir in order to keep the Clan treasure for themselves. When Eilidh NicDhoughal mates with Braemuir, she becomes able to shape-shift, too, but being Braemuir’s mate puts a target on her back—and if one of a mated pair dies, the other will die, too.
As Braemuir struggles to keep Eilidh safe from the black dragon’s attempts to dispose of them, a battle ensues amongst the dragons. Just when the identity of the black dragon is finally discovered, Braemuir gets another shock that will change his world forever.
Genre: Fantasy, Historical, Shape-shifter
Length: 21,828 words
DRAGON’S MATE
Cairngorm Dragons 1
Clair de Lune
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
DRAGON’S MATE
Copyright © 2013 by Clair de Lune
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-129-9
First E-book Publication: February 2013
Cover design by Christine Kirchoff
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
To my five grandchildren…follow your dream!!
DRAGON’S MATE
Cairngorm Dragons 1
CLAIR DE LUNE
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Solus changed into his man-shape. Now he was Braemuir of Braemuir. He walked down the main street of the small settlement. There was so much history there, so much violence and death. He could feel it in the very cobbles of the street. It was past time to end the violence, but if he did not find his mate and impregnate her before the summer solstice, there could well be more blood shed on these cobblestones.
He could follow the tendrils of her thoughts as she hurried out of the town and up the hill to the caves. The odd word she muttered to herself was borne to him on the wind. He might be in his man-shape, but his dragon senses were still available to him. He was Braemuir.
“Stranger. Harm. Hide.”
Those were the fragments he picked up.
She is heading to the caves where the ancestors are buried. She thinks hiding there will shield her thoughts from from me. She is my mate! Nothing and no one will shield her thoughts from me!
He had the plaid wound around him and the end thrown over his shoulder in the time-honoured tradition. The huge brooch with the cabochon emerald and the golden dragon held it in place. He strode purposefully down the street, looking neither to the right nor the left. All men avoided his eyes today, all kept out of his way. He was known! He was the laird of the Clan! Usually he was gregarious, but there was something in his countenance, on this day, that made men wary. He was Braemuir of Braemuir after all.
He was six feet four inches tall. His muscular frame was broad at the shoulders and narrow at the waist and hips. His legs were long, lean, and powerful. He was well used to walking great distances. His hair was long, blue-black, and glossy. He wore it pulled back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. He carried a huge broadsword at his hip. It was long and heavy, with a matching cabochon emerald in the hilt. Not many men could lift that sword, let alone wield it in combat! None had ever bested him in combat, hence Oidhche’s machinations.
Oidhche, black as the night his Gaelic name suggested, was a huge male dragon, with malevolent yellow eyes. But who was Oidhche? That was what Braemuir would like to know. He was of the Clan. He had to be! Whose was the treacherous mind behind the huge black dragon? Now that was a mystery. If Braemuir knew, he could deal with the man. So far, glimpses of the dark mind had been afforded to Braemuir, but no more. He suspected that Oidhche was someone closer to him than he cared to admit to himself. If Oidhche faced him in a fair fight, Braemuir would win. Oidhche’s mind-shield was very powerful, but not so powerful that Braemuir couldn’t penetrate it, provided he could trace the man. What Oidhche couldn’t obtain by fair means he was attempting to take by foul. Knowing he could never hope to gain the upper hand in a fair fight, he had resorted to trickery.
Braemuir was angry with himself for being so taken in. He had been led by the cock, by the Egg! Ciarda had been Oidhche’s creature all along and Braemuir hadn’t had the wit to see it. Ciarda was a voluptuous creature. Her figure was delightful, lush, and curvy. She was of medium height with black hair. Her name meant “dark” in Gaelic and she certainly had dark desires. She had misled him, fucked him, and left him because he’d refused to beat her as she liked. Was he being led by the cock now? He didn’t think so. His mind ranged forward and made fleeting contact with Eilidh’s as she fled to try and hide from him. No, he was sure he wasn’t! There was an innocence and a candour about the feel of her mind that had never been there in Ciarda’s mind. He incr
eased his pace.
Leaving the small settlement behind, he climbed the slope easily. He could have shifted back to his dragon but chose not to. He had iron control over his man and his dragon but didn’t want to frighten her. It would be soon enough to reveal all he was, when he had mated with her. He came to the entrance to the caves and perceived she had only just entered. Calling forth his dragon senses, he used the superb sight he possesed to locate her heat source and headed straight for it. As he approached, he sensed her panic, so he radiated soothing thoughts and soon calmed her fears.
“Come to me, my love, my Eilidh!” he said aloud, his voice seductive and compelling.
She fought his control, but she was no match for him. Her resistance lasted longer than he expected. She would make him a worthy mate, he thought. Eventually, she left the wall she had been trying to blend in with and, on reluctant feet, approached him.
“Come into the light, Eilidh!” he said, his tone low and caressing. His voice had a wide range, from seductive purr to enraged bellow. She wouldn’t be hearing the bellow. She wasn’t able to resist the seductive purr, coupled as it was with the subtle compulsion he exerted over her. Soon she, and only she, would be able to compel him to her will. If she learned how.
He was not going to reveal that to her willingly!
* * * *
Eilidh found herself walking forward, toward the huge warrior. She couldn’t see him clearly, silhouetted as he was against the light of the sun. She didn’t want to abandon the comfort of the cave wall at her back. Nevertheless, abandon it she did. Something compelled her to go to him. Why did she go to him? She felt the compulsion of his mind, calling her, but it was more than that. She felt this man would never harm her, on the contrary, he’d complete her. There was something missing inside her. She’d never realised that before. He would fill that void, she was sure.
“Who are you? What do you want of me?” she asked.
“I am Braemuir of Braemuir.”
She gasped. She’d heard of his prowess on the field of battle, and with women. He was a legendary warrior. The number of women who said he’d bedded them was astonishing, if it was true. She had caught glimpses of him in the settlement. She and her family had never had any direct dealings with him. Now he was here and wanting her.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
He had retreated from the cave mouth, out into the light and she followed him, whether she would or not.
Braemuir dwarfed her! She has such plump, firm, full breasts. Her waist is narrow but her hips are wide. Ideal for childbearing.
Why did I think that now? Then she realised it had been his thought she’d caught before he suppressed it. How could that be? She blushed. She knew her face must be fiery red.
What beautiful hair she has in that long, neat braid hanging down her back. It shines chestnut, with red highlights, in the sun. Her heart-shaped face holds a pair of wide-set grey eyes, as grey as the stormy sea of Skye. She caught more of his thoughts before they were quickly suppressed. Her nose is so small and pert. Her cheeks are as plump as apples. What a wide, generous mouth with lips as red as cherries. Lips that beg to be kissed. His next thought shocked her. “You’re my mate. I’ve come to claim you.”
He held out his hand, and to her astonishment, she walked into his arms. She hadn’t intended to. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d done it. She felt at home in his strong arms, in his warm embrace. She felt as if she belonged there! She felt as if, all her life, she’d been waiting for this moment.
“You feel it, too,” Braemuir said. It was a statement, not a question. Then he tipped up her chin, and the world exploded into fragments, millions of tiny stars, points of light. She felt his mind invade hers. She was powerless to resist. She didn’t want to resist. All her objections were swept away, as his mouth closed over hers. She closed her eyes, but the stars didn’t fade. If anything they grew brighter, until she was engulfed, consumed. His mouth was insistent on hers. His large, warm hands began to roam over her body. He awakened sensations she couldn’t name, and didn’t recognise. She was on fire and he fed the flames. Her nipples were hard little pebbles as he caressed, stroked, tweaked, and pinched them in his strong fingers. She burned, she ached, she wanted, and she needed.
“Yes, mo run, I know, and you shall have it, now.”
How did he know? she thought.
Then she realised that he hadn’t spoken out loud. His mind and hers spoke to each other. No spoken words were necessary.
How could that be? she wondered again.
“I will explain soon,” he said soothingly, again inside her head.
She felt the cold air upon her body and realised she was naked.
When did that happen? Panic hit her. No man had ever seen her naked. Soothing thoughts flowed into her head.
“It’s all right to allow your mate to see you naked. Don’t fret, little one. I’ll take care of you.”
The voice in her head was insistent, soothing, compelling. It calmed all her fears. She allowed him to take her hand and lay her down by his side on the plaid he spread out on the grass. She couldn’t help a start of fright, as she saw that he was naked, too. She was no stranger to a man’s bare chest, as all the men worked bare to the waist in the fields. They always wore a breechcloth. This man had taken off his plaid and spread it upon the ground for her to lie upon. He was as naked as the day he was born. His chest was broad, bronzed, and bare of hair, but there was a nest of dark curls at his groin. From it jutted his erect cock, a monster in very truth. She was familiar with the mating of animals and, though a maid herself, she well knew what went on between a man and a woman. The walls were thin. She had heard things aplenty. This was reality, however, and this man’s cock would never fit inside her!
“Yes, it will, mo run. I’ll be gentle with you. You’ll see, we shall fit one another. Women’s cunts were made to stretch to fit their mate’s cocks.”
He began to stoke and pet her. He held both her hands above her head in one of his large, warm hands. His other hand and his mouth were busy, on her eyes, her mouth, her breasts. He licked, he sucked, he stroked, and he kneaded.
She was so hot she could scarcely breathe. The pleasure he lavished on her spun her wits away. He chuckled.
“That’s it, mo run, don’t fight it,” he said aloud.
Fight? She couldn’t fight this. She could only give in to the pleasure, with the occasional nip of pain to season it, that he lavished upon her.
Soon she was arching her back, begging for she knew not what, but she knew he was going to give it to her. That insistent, compelling voice in her head repeated that over and over. Then he was on top of her. Resting on his elbows, he framed her face with his hands.
“There will be pain. I won’t lie to you, my mate. It will be fleeting, and it will only occur this once. All the next times there will be no pain. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said, and she meant it. She knew now that she, too, was communicating with him wordlessly. Their minds enmeshed.
She felt his hand on her cunt. She was hot and swollen, wet and needy.
“I know,” he said. “I will give you what you need, my love.”
Two strong fingers parted her swollen cunt lips and entered her. He stretched her. He stroked something inside her, and she cried out in ecstasy.
“What are you doing to me?”
“I am making you a woman, my woman, my mate.” He growled.
He continued to stroke inside her, and then he withdrew. As she protested, his fingers pinched the little pearl nestling inside its hood, inside her swollen folds. She’d never felt anything like it. He rubbed his fingers over her little bud until she felt tingles in all her fingers and toes. Her toes curled up and her limbs shook. A pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, took possession of her, and washed over her in wave after wave of pure delight. Nothing had prepared her for this. She was hot, she burned, and she wanted more. As the pleasurable feelings began to abate, she felt h
is hot, swollen cock demanding entrance. Slowly, but inexorably, he pushed into her. When he encountered resistance, he withdrew a little way and, with one mighty thrust of his hips, he breached her! The pain made her scream, and he stilled. His powerful mind, still inside her head, soothed and calmed her. His gentle hands on her face reassured her. His beautiful eyes, hot with desire and love, searched her face, and he waited. The pain receded, and she moved beneath him. Evidently, he’d been waiting for some such sign, because he began to pump his hips. His cock filled her. She’d taken all he had to offer. He’d been right, she’d stretched to accommodate him. She felt full, and it felt so good. He was right once again. There was no more pain, only pleasure. As he pumped in and out of her, the pleasure he gave her, made her writhe and moan. She threshed her head from side to side. She heard him say, “You’re beautiful, mo run. You’re mine. We belong together. How well we fit. Your tight little cunt caresses me and holds me. Come with me now. Fly, my darling Eilidh!”
As their release overtook them and they came together, she had a revelation. A huge dragon presented itself to her mind’s eye. It had the voice and presence of Braemuir.
“That’s right, my mate, you’re the dragon’s mate, too. You will be a dragon, too, from now on.”
She looked at the dragon in fear and she trembled. It was huge. She’d seen dragons in the sky and she knew the chieftains of the Braemuir Clan were shape-shifters. It was one thing, however, to see one in the sky and altogether something different to have one a few inches from her. It looked anything but benign. Would it consume her? Would it harm her? Why was it here now? What was going to become of her? She fainted from shock.
Dragon's Mate [Cairgorm Dragons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 1