Dragon Ensnared: A Viking Dragon Fairy Tale (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 7)

by Isadora Montrose

  “No,” he said curtly.

  “Then I will sleep in the room Lexi assigned me,” she said.

  He put an arm around her shoulders, halting her. “Didn’t Aunt Anna and Lexi buy you a nightgown?”

  “They bought me a sleeping garment. Two, in fact.”

  “Don’t you want to show me?”

  “Why? There is not much to them. They do not seem very warm.”

  He hid his smile and smoothed her newly cut hair behind her shoulders. It was pretty, but it made her look like all the other girls, rather than his wild nixie. “Let me have a peek.”

  She obediently opened her door and led him into a large and attractive room. It was furnished with light-blond modern furniture. The king-sized bed had masses of fluffy pillows and a thick down comforter with a blue and white floral cover. Like his room, this one had windows that looked out over the ocean. Unlike his, the blinds were tightly drawn against the night.

  Iliana opened the dresser drawers until she located what she was looking for. A deep pink scrap of transparent fabric. “It is hardly worth wearing,” she complained.

  His mouth dried as he imagined it draped over her lovely body. “It’s a pretty color.”

  “When it’s bunched up,” she corrected. “When it is spread out, it is so pale it is just about invisible. See.”

  He gulped. “I look forward to seeing you in it.”

  “Oh.” She put it back in the drawer. “Why?”

  “Because looking at you clothed yet unclothed will be a great pleasure.”

  “Really?” Her eyes opened wide.

  “Really.”

  “And then you will wish to rut and give me a baby?” she checked.

  “I will wish to make love to you, and make us a baby,” he corrected. What was up with her emphasis on rutting? As if they were animals. Or he was one. Or had acted like one.

  She frowned. “Is making love different from rutting?”

  He stroked her cheek. “As different as singing a lullaby to a baby is from shouting at it to go to sleep. And as different as our first time in the freezing north. A warm room and no hurry will make all the difference. I promise.”

  Her skeptical expression remained.

  “This has been a long day for you, sweetheart, hasn’t it?”

  “And wearisome. Despite the fine clothes and the lim-o. And the helicopter. They were all exciting, but fatiguing.”

  She did look tired. “I would like to just hold you until you fall asleep.”

  “Why?”

  “It would make me happy.”

  She looked longingly at the bed before turning back to him. “Then of course. Do you wish me to wear the sleeping garment?”

  Her courtesy broke his heart, but he had to try to please her. “Not if you will be cold. What did you sleep in before?”

  “My skin.”

  “Were you cold?”

  “Not at all. This room is very warm, even though it has no fireplace.”

  He suppressed his laughter and led her to the vent under the window. “This is where hot air blows. It keeps the room warm. There are three of them under the windows, and another by the bed. You won’t be cold.”

  “Is the fire below?”

  “You could say so. This house uses heat from the earth. The fireplaces are just an unnecessary frill.”

  “Oh. I must wash my face before bed. The priestesses said this face-paint must be removed before sleep.”

  “Priestesses?”

  “At the spa-temple.”

  He swallowed his smile. He could only set her straight so many times in a single day. “They were correct. I’ll go brush my teeth and come back.”

  When he returned, the comforter was pulled up to her nose. To keep out drafts? Or him? He slipped off his bathrobe and raised the covers just enough to get underneath. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yes. But the wind has changed. There is a storm coming.”

  “So there is. Still, the house will stay warm even if the outside temperature drops very low. And dragons do not feel the cold much.”

  “Don’t they?”

  “Not usually.”

  “Good. I am tired of being cold.”

  “And just plain tired too?”

  “Yes.”

  He stretched out a cautious hand and felt for the edge of her nightgown. It felt silky and thin. Probably that diaphanous garment she thought would not keep her warm. “Will you hold my hand as we did when we walked through Hel?”

  She slipped hers into his. “I was so afraid,” she confessed. “I thought that at any moment we would die.”

  “That did seem the likeliest outcome to venturing into the realm of the dead. I did not expect to survive either.”

  “I wonder why the goddess let us go?” she mused.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Luck? Or maybe we have a destiny that she wishes us to fulfill?”

  “I’m glad to be alive.” She moved slightly closer to him.

  Their hips bumped. He felt the spark right to his toes which curled involuntarily. He squeezed her hand. “Me too. And gladder than I can say not to fear to fall asleep.”

  “Because of the countess, you mean?”

  “Yes. As long as I can remember, she tormented me at night with visions of my parents’ death and threatened the same death for me.”

  “And yet you became a sailor.”

  He shrugged, although she could not see him. “I am a Swede. And a Lindorm. We live surrounded by water. We sail and swim and join the Navy. I like the life, although I’m not a very good sailor, I’m afraid.”

  “Are you not?”

  “I have yet to earn my promotion, and I have hardly any honors. Not like Theo.”

  “And yet you fought the apparition by my side, and went boldly into Hel. And brought us out alive. That is honor enough for any dragon.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I do.” She rolled onto her side. “Jareth, are we going to live here with Lexi and Theo?”

  He ignored the zap to his senses brushing against her gave him. “Always, do you mean?”

  “Yes. Or do you have a house elsewhere?”

  “We won’t live here forever. I do not yet have a house. At least not one I live in.” He thought. “Actually, I suppose I have many houses. But I have not been inside any of them since my parents died.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I was very young when they died, and I went to live with my aunt and uncle on Lind Island. Older members of my family looked after my property. I believe my houses are all rented out. If you wish to live in one of them, we can. Or we can build or buy a new house just for us.”

  “I think we should live in the warmest one.”

  He kissed her hand. “I promise you will always live in a warm house.” Maybe she would never love him, but she could be warm.

  “Thank you.” She kissed him shyly.

  He returned her kiss, but did not try to turn it into a sensual experience. She needed her sleep. “Did you like Helsinki?”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure. I like having pretty clothes. And I liked the spa-temple. The priestesses were very kind. But Anna and Lexi took me to someone’s house to eat. I thought our host was most peculiar. He welcomed us, Jareth, and fed us like honored guests. But he did not wish to feast with us, nor share our conversation.”

  He controlled another urge to laugh. “The place where you ate your meal is called a restaurant. You paid for your lunches. The man who brought it to you works for the restaurant and never sits with the diners.”

  “How very odd.”

  He thought of a medieval equivalent. “It’s like a cook shop for rich people,” he explained.

  She thought for a long while. “It is still odd.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Iliana~

  This was pleasant. More than pleasant. When Jareth had said he wished to hold her until she fell asleep, she had believed he really meant to
persuade her to rut. But he had meant he wished to talk privately. It was comforting to lie beside him in the darkness. It made it easy to say things she had concealed earlier. It made her happy. Not deliriously joyful, but as if she had finally found a home. Which was ridiculous because despite his promises, she still didn’t have one.

  And he was correct that dragons were warm-blooded. Lying beside him was like lying beside her own personal brazier. She wasn’t going to be cold or damp with him by her side. Some of her dread of becoming cold faded. He had let go of her hand when she turned to face him. She groped for his. He clasped hers and squeezed it gently. Reassuringly.

  “You said you would hold me until I fell asleep,” she reminded him.

  “Of course.” He pulled her gently toward his chest until they touched all the way along the fronts of their bodies. He kissed her forehead. “Good night.”

  His arms were around her waist. Her forehead leaned against his chin. She felt safe and warm. And happy. And something else. She could smell his scent, a delicious masculine blend that was his alone. I would know him anywhere, she thought sleepily.

  She could feel her breathing keeping time with his. His heart was a steady beat against her skin. And then she was no longer sleepy. His drill lay between them, thick and hard, pressing against her hill. Her kunta softened and grew damp. Her pulse leapt in surprise at her response.

  “What is it?” he murmured against her hair.

  “You wish to rut,” she said. “Your thing is hard.”

  “My cock is.”

  She giggled. “Is that what you call it? Cock of the hill?”

  “Yes.” He stroked her arm and shoulder gently.

  “Does that make my kunta a hen?” she asked curiously.

  He gasped and then chuckled. The sound went right through her as a pleasant vibration that set off a sort of humming all through her body. “Not a hen, a pussy.”

  She giggled again. Curiously, she was having fun.

  His voice too was full of laughter. “Cunt or cunta is not a suitable word for you to use – except with me. You may say what you please to me. But since you learned that word, it has become an insult.”

  Oh. Well, she had seen language change over and over. It never stayed the same. Look how breeches had become pants. If a pussy meant the same thing as a kunta, she could learn to use it. “Meow.”

  He crowed like a rooster against her head. Softly, as no rooster ever born had ever announced sunrise.

  She snuggled closer. “We can rut if you need to,” she offered.

  “I don’t need to make love, Iliana.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’m hard because that is my response to you. It’s not a problem. Go to sleep.”

  Why was he so hard to convince? To seduce? Her body must not please him, despite the hardness of his cock. She tried again. “You may rut if you wish.”

  “I like being hard. Doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it. You go to sleep.”

  His voice was making her feel things she had not felt before. She tingled there. In her pussy. “Meow,” she said again and stretched like a cat, rubbing lightly against him. The sleeping garment might as well not have been there. She could feel his hard smoothness as if it were not.

  “Not sleepy after all?” he asked softly. His words vibrated against her earlobe.

  She tried to be honest. “I don’t know.”

  His lips brushed her earlobe. Pulled it into his mouth and tickled it gently with his tongue. She stretched languidly. He took his hot mouth away from the lobe and blew softly. The tingle made her jump.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  “I do.” Her voice was a breathy purr. Was she becoming a cat?

  He blew again. Took the earlobe back into his mouth and suckled it. The tingles spread down to her breasts which swelled with pleasure. He ran kisses down her jaw to her neck and back up again. Now she was wriggling like a cat being stroked.

  His nose nuzzled her at the junction of neck and shoulder. He breathed in deeply. Moaned with pleasure. His fingers lightly traced her collarbones and circled her aching breasts. He softly rubbed her silky sleeping dress against her flesh. Those teasing touches made her nipples tighten into throbbing peaks.

  “What are you doing to me?” she whispered. Her huskiness had increased.

  “Playing. Am I pleasing you?”

  “Very much.”

  “If you would like to, I too would like to be touched.”

  “I’m not sure how to stroke a rooster.”

  He snorted. An abortive laugh. “You could begin with my chest.”

  She ran her fingers over his collarbones as he had done to her. Except that he was entirely naked. His breathing became as ragged as her own. Emboldened, she traced his muscles. They stood out, hard and sleek. He too had nipples. Small flat ones.She could feel that they were bumpy and puckered. She thought he twitched when she played with them.

  She wet her fingertip in her mouth and touched his nipples harder. They stiffened further. His cock nudged her. He groaned. Accomplishment made her giddy. Or his scent. It was hard to say.

  “Do you like that?” she asked.

  “Yup.” He imitated her by tickling her stiff nipples with wet fingers. She had been correct. The sleeping costume might as well not be there. But she liked the way it smoothed over her aching flesh.

  Her moans of pleasure grew louder and louder. She could no longer concentrate on touching Jareth. And when he put his mouth to her breast and suckled, that tingle became flashes of lightning that struck her pussy in waves that grew stronger and stronger.

  Deep inside her, and especially through her bottom, her muscles tightened and released. She moaned aloud. She was hovering on the brink of great pleasure or great pain. Iliana wanted to halt Jareth. No, she wanted him to continue. His mouth suckled in rhythm with the lightning in her pussy. And then he covered her bush with his big hand and rubbed lightly.

  Her legs fell open of their own volition. He roved between them and all around her sex, patting, stroking, tickling.

  “May I?” he begged.

  What? He wanted to drill her pussy now? At this moment when something wonderful lay just out of her grasp? But she had promised to obey him. “Yes.” Her voice was strangled.

  Jareth pushed a finger slowly into her and circled just the entrance to her passage. His finger was much smaller than his cock and felt good in her aching pussy. She could hear how wet she was and feel her juices when his finger dabbed them outside. That feeling of an impending earthquake grew stronger.

  His finger probed her again. He stroked the top of her passage with a curled finger, while his thumb drew circles outside where her kunta was most sensitive. She screamed. He pressed down with his thumb and up with his fingers and the threatened earthquake convulsed her entire body. She screamed as loudly as the wraith.

  She was floating. She had shattered into tiny pieces. She was radiant joy and sweaty exhaustion. Stars danced before her eyes. Jareth’s arms held her tightly against his damp body and let her body rejoin. Her soul sought his. The difference between his body and hers vanished. She felt his happiness as well as her own. Their mouths met, his opened, and she shared his breath.

  How long they lay like that breathing and exchanging breath and scent, she did not know. Her soul felt complete. Her body trembled as fresh ripples spread through it. She surrendered to bliss as body and soul attained a peak in the safe harborage of his arms.

  “Go to sleep,” he said.

  She had promised to obey. Between one breath and the next she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Jareth~

  It was astounding how connected he felt to Iliana. He had enjoyed her orgasm almost as much as she had. Well, probably not as much. But he had certainly enjoyed it. And the feeling of bliss had lasted longer than any climax he had ever given himself. As the last of her aftershocks faded and her lips relaxed against his, utter contentment suffused him.

  Somehow his urgency had left
him, even though his erection had not. He could finish himself. He was a bachelor. Iliana was his first and last woman. He had had years of practice. Yet disturbing her was not worth the prize. Not tonight. Holding her, letting her aura resonate with his, felt too wonderful, too complete.

  Was this what falling in love felt like? Iliana was lying on him, a limp, damp, relaxed weight. She felt like part of him. He did not want to let her go. He would never let her go. He would let her sleep on him while he savored the delight of holding his mate against his heart. And his cock. Or rooster.

  In the darkness he laughed aloud for sheer joy. Iliana did not rouse. She nestled closer and her breathing became even slower and more rhythmic. Something better than physical satisfaction warmed his heart. He foresaw a happy life for himself and his fated mate now that he had shown her the difference between rutting and making love.

  He was dreaming. He knew he was. And yet he did not wake. He let the dream take form and lead him where it would. He was flying with his cousins and fellow sword bearers. Soaring over Lind Island in the dark of the moon. Training. Twelve dragons flying as one unit.

  This way and that they darted and turned at the command of their leader. Darius took them through their rehearsed maneuvers, ensuring that they all performed with perfect synchrony as they would need to do in battle. The buzz of comradeship and coordinated movement turned the physical exertion of the nighttime drill into hour after hour of perfect happiness.

  At last Darius signaled that it was time to return to base. Instantly, everyone turned into the wind and flew south. All except him. He and Darius watched the others land and become men again. They vanished indoors. He and his squadron leader wheeled in the sky. In the pale pink light of dawn they flew northward.

  Usually Darius was much larger than he was. Yet as they skimmed over the sea, Jareth easily kept pace with him. His squadron leader led him over the waves to Iceland. And then out into the archipelago. Further and further they flew, past island after island.

  Until, between one stroke and the next, Darius vanished. Jareth no longer had a guide. He circled the islands in bafflement. Dark green trees grew in lush profusion. Jagged volcanoes puffed smoke. Where was he? And why?