by Ruby Dixon
Jesus, that sounds insulting. I don’t know what to think. Has he done that to a lot of women? Now I’m the jealous one.
Do not worry over it. It will never happen to you, sweet one. He nuzzles my neck again, even as I feel the heat of his cock press against the entrance to my core. You have taken my fires. You are mine entirely. Your scent will change to match mine, your thoughts are mine…all of you will be mine.
All of me? I shiver.
All, he agrees. Especially your cunt. And he pushes into me.
I gasp because it’s tight and my body strains against the invasion. A split second later, though, it’s as if my pussy welcomes him, because all the tension eases and then I feel amazing. It’s like he’s scratching an itch I never knew I had until today, and I can’t help but rock back against him as I feel him straighten, his hands on my hips. He kneels behind me, his thighs pressed against mine, his cock so deep inside me it’s shocking.
You have no more questions? he asks, and rotates his hips even as he speaks in my head.
It’s awfully hard to think when he’s inside me like this. Gosh, it’s even hard to breathe. I just want to curl my fists in the blankets and wallow in the sensation of being filled up like this. My toes curl when he strokes into me, and when his next one is as hard and demanding, my gasp turns into a half-sob. I’m overwhelmed with emotion and sensation both. But…questions. “I…yes,” I choke out. “You…you’re a warrior?”
A general, he tells me proudly. It is why my claws are so long. He pauses over me. Used to be long. It does not matter now.
“A general?” I echo. “In an army?”
Of sorts. All drakoni serve our Salorian overlords. A surge of hate floods his thoughts. May they burn in all the fires of every hell imaginable. I will not think of them when I am inside you, though, he tells me, and gives me another deep, rocking thrust that seems to shake me to my core.
Oh. “You remember so much,” I breathe, barely able to focus. Zohr and Emma—because I have to think of them as a pair—mentioned Salorians. “You’re not like the others.”
He goes still over me. Others? Rast asks, and I can feel him searching through my memories, looking for answers. What others?
“Other…other dragons,” I manage, and my pussy ripples around his hard length. Oh god, I’m going to come just from him being inside me like this. I’m too sensitive, too full of everything. I can barely think. I’m swamped with his erotic thoughts and the way his cock feels inside me.
One big hand grabs the back of my neck and holds me down on the bed, and I have to admit, it makes me even hotter to realize I’m pinned and can’t get up. I moan loudly, my body clenching tight. Other drakoni? he asks. They seek to mate you?
His thoughts are frenzied, furious. “No,” I manage as he reaches down with his other hand and manipulates my clit, as if he’s determined to make me come before I can think of anyone else. “Sister…mate. Friend…” Oh god, he touches me and then it feels like my entire body is igniting. I sob again, because it’s so incredible and I’m so close.
There’s a rush of furious pleasure that sweeps from his mind to mine. Good. You are mine. They cannot have you.
Yours, I agree, lost in my need. I’m talking in my head now, because I’m too overwhelmed to form words. I’m just whimpering over and over again.
You belong to me, Rast asserts again, and thrusts into me hard. He anchors my hips against him and then begins to slowly pump, picking up a slow, steady rhythm that has me crying out within a matter of moments. Each stroke makes me come even harder, until it feels like my orgasms are just cascading on top of one another in one big, endless, ongoing climax. Between this and the fever, I’m barely aware of when he stops, when his come floods inside me with heat and he pins me under him, licking my neck with a surge of possessive thoughts.
But then he’s sliding off of me and pulling my body back against his, tucking my bad leg gently over one of his thighs, as if he knows it needs to be propped up when it aches. He settles me against his chest, and this time his cock is still deep inside me as he relaxes, his legs twined with mine. He hugs my breasts with one hand, stroking and teasing my nipples idly.
I like touching you like this. I feel it in your cunt. As if to prove that, Rast caresses my nipple and it makes my pussy clench and tighten in an aftershock.
Please, I sigh heavily, exhausted. His constant torrent of thoughts and the touches he keeps giving me are suddenly too much to take. Weariness falls over me like a blanket. I think I need to rest for a bit.
He nuzzles my neck, licking my ear. Very well. Let the fires finish their work. You are still too cool yet. His hand slides to my belly and he strokes me there, as if he cannot help touching me. Then he pauses. These others. Are they the ones that harmed you?
Harmed me? A flash of my bad leg passes through my mind. Oh. No, that’s an old wound.
He grunts. Good. If they hurt you, I would destroy them all.
I don’t know whether I think that’s sweet or disturbing. A little of both, maybe. Claudia’s my sister. Her mate is Kael. Sasha’s like a sister to me. And Emma is a friend. They are all mated. We should fly back toward Fort Dallas and meet them soon—
No.
No? I echo, too tired to even look at him. I’m drifting off into sleep, the throb of my pussy being replaced by the throb of my headache as the sickness takes over me again.
No, my Amy, Rast promises. You are mine and no one else’s.
Before I can protest, I’m unconscious once more.
14
RAST
My mate falls into an exhausted slumber at my side. The fever that comes with fires consumes her, and her eyelids flutter even as she sleeps. I watch her, unable to tear my gaze away. She is so perfect, so fragile. I have never felt such contentment as I have just gazing upon her. She has saved me.
Even this terrible world, which I have hated for so long, does not seem as bad now that she is in it.
I brush my fingertips along her shoulder and down her arm, because I cannot stop touching her. It is still hard to believe that she is here and she is mine after so long. Even as I fill my thoughts with Amy, other things flood in.
Memories.
Now that the fires that have consumed my mind for so long are nothing but smoke, I am beginning to remember other things. Not all at once, but thinking of what I told her earlier has jarred a few fragments loose.
I remember Salorians. The ominous elite of my people. I remember them in their long robes and their tall, austere buildings filled with gardens and sculptures. I remember the feasts they would throw, when rich, luscious scents would pour out of the city walls even as my people struggled for food. I remember how it felt to be selected from the ranks of soldiers and made into a general. It gave me a position of authority…even though I hated who I served. I was important. I was powerful. I could use my title and my skills to leverage privileges for my people, more food for my family.
None of those things came to pass, though. Instead of saving my family, they enslaved them and betrayed me. I think of my brother, Hitaar. I remember him, his kind expression and laughing eyes. I remember he loved music and did not like fighting, even in battle-form. I remember his gentle smile.
I remember the Salorians crushing his mind like an eggshell and turning him into a soldier. I remember desperately using my title, my privileges, anything to try and free my brother from his conscription. To send him back to our poor village out in the sands, where he might have a chance at a happy life, free from the poison of Salorian mind control and their endless wars.
They laughed at me.
My hands curl, my shorn claws desperate to latch on to something and destroy it at the memory. At Hitaar's violent death in the first battle he went into, unable to resist the mind-numbing orders of his Salorian leader.
What good is being a general if you lead your people to slaughter?
Next to me, Amy whimpers in her sleep, and I lean over her, brushing her sweaty hair
back from her pale face. My mate. The ultimate prize. I remember how the Salorians held the promise of a mate back from us. That we could serve our time and then return to the mating lands to fly and challenge worthy females. I remember that all males fought for that honor.
I do not know of a single one of my friends that ever got that chance. I struggle to think of faces, of names that served well enough to receive such an honor, but I recall nothing.
I wonder if the Salorians stripped my mind of that as well.
Frustration and rage swell inside my mind. The more that I remember, the angrier I am. This world is bad, with its foul smells and its strange atmosphere that brings me so easily to rage. But I think of my homeland, and I want to destroy every Salorian I ever see. I want to crush them beneath my claws and rip their heads off and make them suffer. I want them to grovel and sweat and serve like slaves like we drakoni did.
I want them humiliated.
I want vengeance for Hitaar.
All of these thoughts flood back in as every moment passes, and I feel the rage slipping back in through the cracks, ready to consume me again. I lean closer to my mate, breathe in her scent that even now mingles with my own.
That world is my past. She is my future.
I can rage against the unfairness of my past, the treatment of my people, my brother's murder. I can let it consume me, or I can focus on this new world that I have come to. I think of the Rift, and it is like a pulsing wound in my mind with its presence. There is no way I can return to my homeworld through that tear in the heavens. Like it or not, my place is here now, in this world.
At Amy's side.
I can make a new life with her. I can even be happy, I think, with her to focus my thoughts and her lovely body to claim. We can breed half-drakoni young and set ourselves a nest and live our lives quietly. It sounds pleasant, I think.
Hitaar would have loved such a life.
Grief makes my throat close, and I lean down against my mate, hold her close. I cannot change the past, I remind myself. The Salorians are on the other side of the Rift and I am here. I must forget them. My need for vengeance does not matter when there is no one to avenge myself upon.
Amy is the only thing that matters now. I nuzzle her skin and wait for her to awaken, for her body to accustom itself to my fires. Once she returns to me, we can begin our life together.
We can start anew.
It will be enough. It has to be.
I drowse next to my mate, keeping my senses alert for interlopers that might come into my territory. This far from the human nests, it is quiet in the skies, and nothing brushes against my mind. It is almost peaceful to be alone like this, without the buzz of other drakoni thoughts at the edges of my consciousness, but it is also…different. When I was lost in the mind-fires, it was easier, I think. Now that I have returned to myself, everything feels strange. Perhaps it is just that this human world is strange and I will eventually grow used to it.
I sense her rousing, and remain still, curious to watch her and see her reaction. I can feel her mind open to me, like a flower. She does not know how to keep any of her thoughts private yet, and they flood into my head. There is a flurry of confusion and wonder, of muscle aches and fever, and then an overwhelming wave of shy pleasure as she realizes I am still pressed against her. I revel in that, drinking it in.
She thinks for a moment and then slowly slides out of my grip and then out of bed. She glances down at me to see if I am sleeping, and so I keep my eyes closed, feigning it for a moment longer. Her mind stabs at mine, clumsy, but there is no question there so I do not respond. After a breath’s time, she turns and heads for the water-box where she challenged me.
Odd.
Her thoughts are a chaotic flurry. There are notes of pleasure mixed in with the awkwardness, and every time she thinks of me, her thoughts grow warm. She thinks of my possessiveness and I can feel her shiver. Images of others—a sister with red hair, another dragon, other females and their dragons—float through her head, and then I feel her overwhelming sadness and confusion. She turns on the water and steps under it, shivering at the chill of the rain as it patters on her skin.
More sad thoughts slide through her mind and I get up to confront her. I do not like her sadness. If I must chase it away with repeated matings, then I will do so. After all, if she is climbing into the water-box, does that not mean she wishes to mate again? My cock rises in response to that. How lusty she is, how giving. It is a welcome surprise. I knew having a mate would be enjoyable, but I did not realize the depths I would feel for her so quickly.
I open the door and step into the room.
Amy turns and gasps, nearly dropping the slippery bar in her hands as she squeezes it. “Oh my god, you scared me!”
How? I am in your mind.
She covers her breasts and pussy with her hands, and a wave of flustered emotion enters my head. “I…I thought you were sleeping.” She glances down at my cock, which is already erect with need for her, and I can feel the arousal that threads through her mind in response.
Ah, my mate. She is perfect. You are in the mating box, so I thought I would join you.
“Mating…box?” she echoes, and her cheeks turn red with embarrassment. “This is for showering, not mating.”
We mated in it, I reason with her even as I move to her side. I slip an arm around her waist, careful to hold her against me so she does not lose her balance with her bad leg. Is it not a mating box then?
“I guess it can be.” She pretends to pay no attention to me and makes lather in her hands, then rubs them on her arms and stomach. After a moment, she glances over her shoulder at me. “Are you going to watch me bathe?”
Why not? I enjoy the sight of you. I slide behind her and caress her hips. Or do you prefer that I wash you before we mate again?
Again? It stabs through her mind with surprise. “You want to mate again?”
I chuckle at her astonished reaction. I plan on mating with you repeatedly for many, many years to come. So yes, we will mate again. I lean in and press my mouth to her shoulder. And again. I lick her skin lightly and then nip it with my fangs. And again.
Her arousal scent begins to perfume the air. “I…I’m sticky. I should clean up first.”
Then clean, I tell her. I can wait.
Her flustered thoughts dance through my head, and it is a joy to pick through them. I love how open and unshielded she is. I can feel her pleasure as I press my body against hers, and I also feel the aching soreness between her thighs as she washes herself there. Ah. I forget that she is so new to mating, and I have been a very enthusiastic partner. I nuzzle her wet hair. You are sore. I will wait for your cunt to feel better. Perhaps I will just lick it to watch you scream, instead.
Heat flushes through her body and she whimpers. “Are all dragons this forward?”
With their mates? Undoubtedly. I take the bar of soap from her hands and lather it against my palms as I watched her do, then clean her skin for her, taking my time to rub over her breasts and stomach. Her nipples are hard little points as I touch her, and her breath hitches with every slick caress. This is such a pleasure, and I feel myself rumbling in response to simply holding her like this. I did not realize having a mate would bring such intense joy so quickly. I thought it would be gradual, like the rise of the sun over the horizon, but this is more like an explosion in my spirit, thundering through me and growing more powerful by the moment. My mate, I tell her as I press my face against her head, rubbing against her. How perfect you are.
Her thoughts fill with adoration and she leans back against me. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she tells me shyly.
You did not. I have been waiting for you. My fires have taken a lot out of you.
“Is that why I feel so feverish and weak?”
Yes. It will subside as your body adjusts. I move a slippery hand to her stomach and caress it. And eventually you will carry my young. But there is time for that yet.
It is the wrong t
hing to say, because a memory of another female—the red-haired sister—flashes through her mind and the sadness returns. “Oh,” is all she says, but there are so many emotions in her head.
You do not want to be with me?
It is unthinkable. Just like that, my mood goes from calm to blistering. The very thought makes my spirit rage and howl with pain. The fires, always licking at the edges of my mind, threaten to return.
“That’s not it at all,” she whispers even as I cup her breasts in my hands and tease the slick, soapy tips. She sighs. “I just know my sister will be missing me. She’s going to worry.”
I do not understand. Did you not say that you left your skin for me to find? I send her a mental image of the bit of fabric I keep around my wrist, always.
“My panties? I did,” she admits, then sighs and leans back against me. “I just…didn’t think things through. I’ve been lost in fantasies of my own making. I didn’t think what would happen once I called a dragon. I just knew I was lonely and that if you found me, you’d love me.” Amy glances up at me, an apologetic smile on her face. “Does that seem silly?”
No, I tell her. I want to press my mouth to hers and capture her tongue once again. I want to taste her all over…but I need her to want that, too. A mate is the greatest joy one can have. I have been searching for you, as well. I gaze down at her. Do you regret that I found you? That I won your challenge?
Her brow furrows and there is a flash of confusion in her mind at my “challenge” comment. She does not see it as a challenge at all, which is curious. “Regret you? Never. You’re wonderful.” She smiles shyly up at me. “I still can’t believe you want me.”
How can she think that? She is perfect in all ways. Her scent is the most glorious thing I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. I love her sweetness, her gentle nature. It is a perfect contrast to my angry, bloodthirsty nature. Then you will stay with me.