In the Arms of the Dragon Princes

by Jessica Miller

  "Ye needn't worry," Lachlan said. "I'll respect yer wishes. I promise."

  "Thank ye," Lyla said, putting as much of her gratefulness into her words as she could. "It... it means much that ye would sacrifice so much."

  "From where I stand," Lachlan said, "ye sacrificed far more than I did. This is the least I can do t'... repay ye for that."

  A smile plucked at the corners of Lyla's lips. Lachlan kept his hand over hers for the rest of the meal, and continued to touch her throughout the day whenever they were in the same room. Lachlan had gifted her the books in his study, still feeling the need to give her a proper present to celebrate their wedding. Lyla was happy for the distraction from the homesickness that still rose up in her chest from time to time.

  *****

  When the time came for them to retire, Lyla stopped by her room, only remembering when she was half in the door that it was Lachlan's room she should be sleeping in. She could give him that much, even if she refused any advances he might have made. Mary was there, waiting, and helped her out of her dress. When Lyla stood in naught but her shift, Mary left, and Lachlan came out from the small wash room attached to the main body of the chamber.

  The two of them stared at each other, both fidgeting, until Lachlan gestured at the bed. Lyla fidgeted with her shift and moved to her side of the bed. Lachlan pulled down the blankets for her. She felt him watching as she climbed in and laid on her back, groping for the covers until she could pull them up to her chin.

  Lachlan ran a hand through his hair, succeeding in nothing more than messing it up even more, and climbed in next to her. Two candles burned on either side of them, casting enough light for Lyla to clearly see Lachlan's profile when she turned to look. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his chest.

  "I'm sorry," he said, his voice gravelly. "I'm... terribly sweaty. Perhaps I should... wash before I sleep. I wouldnae wan' t'... make ye uncomfortable." He began to move, but Lyla's hand on his arm stopped him.

  "Let me," she said, hardly believing she was saying the words even as they fell from her mouth. Lachlan blinked at her in alarm. "It'll go quicker," Lyla supplied, though she knew it was a poor reason.

  Lachlan nodded regardless, and she followed him into the wash room. It took only a few moments for the servants to be called and fill the tub, and though Lyla would have wished for a warm bath, Lachlan seemed not to mind the tepid water.

  Lyla blushed as he unabashedly stripped off his nightshirt, revealing his naked body in all its glory. The muscles of his shoulders and back were strong and well defined, rippling all the way down to his rear as he moved. Lyla forced herself to look away until she heard him sink into the tub with a gentle grunt and awkwardly cleared his throat.

  Hands shaking, Lyla picked up the cloth left by the servants and dipped it into the water, wringing out the excess. She was allowed to do this, she told herself, touching the cloth to one of Lachlan's shoulders.

  His body was tense beneath her touch. He reached up to touch her hand, only for a second, before letting her resume her task. Lachlan's sweat gleamed on his bare chest, replaced by tiny droplets of water as Lyla wiped it off.

  When her hand dipped below the water line to wash Lachlan's stomach, he gently grabbed her wrist to stop her hand and turned his head. Their lips were inches apart. Lyla sucked in a startled breath, her heart skipping a painful beat.

  Lachlan lifted one hand, water dripping from his fingers and the side of his palm, and cupped Lyla's cheek, the tips of his fingers pushed her hair behind her ear and pulled her closer.

  Their lips met softly, Lachlan gently sucking on Lyla's lower, drawing a soft groan from deep in her throat. Lyla splayed her hand out against his chest and stomach, feeling the heat radiating from his body even though it was submerged in cool water. Lachlan's fingers tangled firmly in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing across her lips until she opened them to meet it with her own. She could taste the whiskey he had drank with dinner masking something that was uniquely him. His teeth scraped over her lip and she felt her nipples harden, the soft fabric of her shift rubbing against them only adding to the stimulation until they were fairly aching for something more.

  Her wish was granted when Lachlan released her wrist to palm her chest, kneading her breast as he kissed down her neck. Lyla's eyes slipped shut, her head tipping back to give him more access to her sensitive skin.

  “Ye are...” Lachlan whispered against her throat, “th' most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

  A shuddery sigh escaped Lyla's lips as Lachlan kissed the jut of her collarbone and dipped his tongue into the hollow. She dropped the cloth, letting her hand slide up his chest to scrape against the back of his neck, then into his hair, tangling in the golden strands. Lachlan pulled at the collar of her shift, exposing the swell of her breast, but paused before his lips touched her skin, looking up at her through his fine lashes, his eyes black.

  “May I?” he asked, to which Lyla nodded, letting her own eyes close as Lachlan sucked tenderly on her breast.

  His kisses trailed softly across her chest and then his lips closed around one of Lyla's aching nipples and she arched into him. He brushed his tongue across the puckered flesh then replaced his mouth with his hand, leaning out of the tub enough that he could kiss her firmly, his fingers pinching and his thumb rolling, each touch going straight down to her core. His hand fell from her hair to press against her thigh, bunching her shift up around her hips until he could grab it and lift.

  “Am I meant to be the only one bare?” he asked.

  Lyla swallowed and inhaled shakily. “No.”

  Lachlan stood, slowly, water dripping down his naked form. He was glorious, Lyla thought, biting her lip as her eyes drank him in. He stepped from the tub and bent to slip one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back as he lifted her into his arms, the water beading on his body soaking through her clothes and into her skin. Lyla pulled his lips to hers.

  Somehow they managed to make it to the bed without Lachlan tripping over his own feet or dropping her flat on her rear, at least not until they reached the mattress and he could safely let her fall. Her shift was hiked up around the tops of her thighs, leaving her legs bared to Lachlan's roaming hands and eyes.

  “May I?” he asked again.

  Lyla lifted her arms, wanting nothing more than the feel of his lips on hers again. He pushed her shift up her stomach then over her breasts. Her back arched up into the brief skim of his palms across her chest. He threw her shift somewhere across the room and guided her further back on the bed, his hands on her hips to help. He thumbed one breast gently, body stretched out along hers. He nuzzled her cheek.

  “So beautiful,” he muttered into her ear before kissing just below it, right on the edge of her jaw.

  She slid her hands into his hair again. She was allowed to want, she told herself again. He was her husband.

  His hand slipped to the side, parting her legs, fingers finding her folds and slipping through, drawing a gasp. Lyla's grip on his hair tightened.

  Lachlan chuckled softly. “Tell me something,” he asked softly as he stroked her. Lyla barely managed a nod. “How could ye offer yerself up th' way ye did? I could have been anyone.” He shook his head. “I'd nae have had the courage.”

  “I couldnae let my home be burnt t' the ground,” Lyla said.

  “And ye consider yer life t' be worth more than a sleepy wee town? Yer body?”

  “It's my home,” Lyla said, looking up into his eyes. She could see a ring of clear blue around his pupils. Her heart pounded, desperate to be free.

  “My affection for you,” Lachlan said slowly, carefully, “whate'er 'tis worth... 'tis genuine. I hope tha' ye can see so.”

  Lyla nodded. Her hips were rolling, canting up gently into his touch. He leaned down to kiss her gently, his body a heavy, pleasant weight on top of hers. His fingers brushed up, over the little nub of pleasure where the ache between her thighs was c
entered. Lachlan drew her lip between his and sucked, his hips pressing flush against her thigh. Her stomach squirmed when she realized what she felt was his manhood rubbing against her. He would take her, unless she told him to stop.

  But she did not want him to stop. That was the last thing in the world she wanted. What she did want, was...

  “My wife,” Lachlan whispered. “My beautiful wife.”

  “Take me,” she said into his ear. “I’m yours, as you are mine. So take me.”

  Lachlan pressed his nose to hers. “Only ever with yer blessin,” he said in a gentle growl. “Aye?”

  Lyla swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. “Aye,” she whispered. She nuzzled against him then turned her face into a firm kiss, letting her hands drift down his back and rest on his slender hips.

  “I promise I'll never hurt ye,” he said, rolling his hips into her.

  She spread her thighs automatically, her muscles tight but her body willing. He stroked her thigh, rough fingertips seeking to smooth her skin.

  “Relax.”

  Lyla breathed in deep, filling her lungs with as much air as she could, then exhaled slowly, feeling her heart rate settle.

  Her eyes found his again in the almost darkness of the flickering firelight. He was waiting, still waiting, no matter how much she told him with her words that she was ready. For a moment she realized he might wait forever — and was that not love? Patience, she had been told, was love’s vestments, and so she reached up and cradled his hip. Her words would not suffice. She would show him she was ready.

  His brow creased as she trailed her fingertips down his thigh, mimicking his own motions, until she gently laid her hand upon where, she guessed from the way he jumped, no woman had yet touched. She kissed his chest, feeling his groan even before she heard it, urging him on with a squeeze and a gentle scrape of her nails.

  She met his eyes again, unafraid, and pulled him close. Lachlan arranged himself over her and kissed her as he slowly thrust in, his teeth tugging gently at her lip. It seemed an eternity, those first moments together, bound close by the pounding of hearts and the rush of pleasure, the drip of bathwater as their soaked bodies stained the bedclothes. She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, and he paused, an agonizing pause that made her shudder.

  “Lyla?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t stop. It’s — please. Don’t stop.”

  He was warm, and strong, and in her arms, and he rolled his hips again, thrusting deep. She gasped, loudly, pressing her mouth against his shoulder as if to muffle the sounds, but her lips found his neck, and she kissed him again, moaning into him as he thrust over and over. Her nails found a taut muscle in his back, clinging, and he grunted again. The sound coiled in her stomach, hot and tight, and suddenly her heart was racing faster than before, her legs clinging to him, driving him deeper —

  She almost missed the sound of his voice, murmuring something in her ear, so drowned out was his husky voice in the sounds of her climax, the desperate gasps of his name, almost a prayer on her lips. She crested, and fell, and crested again, and still he would not yield, until she met his eyes, and murmured his name to them — and then his lips were on hers, kissing a hungry, desperate kiss as his body surrendered and then it was all over.

  They laid that way for a long while, his body blanketing hers, all the warmth she needed in the world. When at last he withdrew and she laid against his chest, she smiled into the skin, repeating back what he had said.

  “You love me,” she said, almost coy. “And ye hardly know me.”

  “Then I shall love ye,” he replied, voice thick with drowsiness, “a thousand times more when I do.”

  Lyla’s fingers curled into the hair on his chest. She knew, then, it would be the same for her.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 19/40

  Alien Mate

  Anna

  “Welcome to the Trans Planetary Immigration Program, otherwise soon to be known as, T.P.I.P. This lucky group of individuals have been especially chosen to be the first humans to emigrate from Earth to Rolar. So yes, this means you lot are the ‘trial group’ so to speak…”

  I sat back in the comfortable conference chair and glanced down at one of the various packets passed around to each of the twenty people present at what can’t be called anything other than a debriefing. Officer Bardwell had just begun his presentation; I probably should’ve been paying close attention as I was about to willingly emigrate to an alien planet. But I was too excited about actually getting there and couldn’t focus on much of anything for a long period of time.

  “You will be given a few small gadgets to help you acclimate to being on your new planet. This pretty little necklace is a translator, you speak English and it sounds like Mandarolian to which ever native you are speaking to. They speak Mandarolian back to you and it will translate as English to your ears. If you want to speak English to an English speaker, simply turn the pendant over and switch the device off, the same goes for speaking Mandarolian. I strongly suggest you continue learning their language, it’s not much different from a romance language here…” Bardwell held up a relatively small silver pendant in the shape of Earth cut in half that dangled from a delicate looking silver chain.

  “That chain looks kind of flimsy Officer,” I spoke up, and there were a few smiles and chuckles heard from around the conference table. I didn’t think what I said was all that funny…

  “It may look it, but trust me it’s gone under scrupulous tests, each device we give you is made to last,” he said, not unkindly, and then continued his lecture. I glanced out of the huge floor to ceiling glass behind Bardwell, who stood at the head of the mahogany table. Washington, D.C. was pretty under a blanket of snow. The only thing I knew I’d miss was the scenery on Earth. White sand beaches, glittering cities, mountains, plains, and the like. The day before I had watched a video about tourist attractions on Rolar. They had their own unique set of natural landscapes. All in the form of rocky mountainous terrain, lots of hills and plains, and odd grey sand beaches. There were also a lot of volcanoes on Rolar which made me nervous, even if they had devices that would control a volcano’s activity should it become volatile. Nevertheless, I was excited for the adventure. New planet, new experiences and opportunities.

  “This next one is to help with the atmospheric pressure on Rolar, the planet’s mountainous terrain means that many of their cities and towns are a mile above sea level or even higher. Even those of you from mountainous countries or areas will need this…” Bardwell held up a flimsy looking metal ear cuff and I wondered how that thin piece of plastic would help with the effects of high altitude pressure. “You’ll get a pair of these, you hook it onto your ear and it will self-adjust so that it doesn’t fall off. It works with your sinuses, circulation, and a bunch of other medical stuff you can read up on in one of the packets given to you. Basically you wear this, and you don’t even have to worry about your ears popping on the shuttle ride off the planet. In fact, it is mandatory that you wear these while on the space shuttles to Rolar,” Bardwell reached into his open briefcase that was sitting on the table and he seemed to rummage around for something. I took the time to glance around the room at the few space officers posted against the wall, they seemed to be paying attention, but also their eyes looked distant, so I figured most of them zoned out.

  The people seated at the conference table, the other emigrants, were definitely paying attention. There were ten men and ten women, I wonder if that was done purposefully...

  “Ah, the next device is to help regulate your temperature, on Rolar the temperatures can get a bit extreme compared to Earth’s standards. The Rolarians have had years of evolution to grow tough skin, but we humans have not. This will keep you warm in their extreme winter and it will keep you cool in their hot summers. It’s just as easy to use as the other devices, what you have to do is stick the patch at the back of your neck and you’re golden. What nanotechnology has accomplished today is unfathomab
le to my ninety-year-old grandfather.” That got a laugh from the table and I smiled.

  “So that about covers it as far as what you need to help your body adjust and survive on Rolar, I strongly suggest you read your packets for a more in depth description of these devices and their recommended use. Next thing on the agenda is the food on Rolar. Yes, you can eat it, yes it will make you throw up, yes it is difficult to digest. If you want to be so bold as to eat Rolarian cuisine right out of the gate, be my guest. I tried it, the first time I threw up. The second time I was full for a week and backed up for two. Please, just stick to foods and restaurants that say H.G. it means ‘human grade.’” Bardwell made eye contact with each and every one of us at the table before continuing.

  “You’ve all been taking classes and reading books and watching videos about Rolarian culture. You are emigrating to their planet, so yes, the United Nations is telling you to assimilate. Earth has not created a colonialization program on Rolar. Each of you have decided to make the planet your new home. So learn their ways, and fit in, if you want to celebrate Christmas, and Hanukah or what have you of course you can do so. Just be respectful of their culture, their politics, their social structure, and try not to make waves. The very existence of this program means that the Rolarians have made policies. exceptions, mandates, set up embassies, allowed ambassadors, and a whole host of other things to accommodate humans living on their planet and in their society. Not to mention the mentors you’ve each been assigned to help in your process of settling in. The same as Earth is working out the kinks to do the same for Rolarians who wish to immigrate here. We need you to know that. You. Are. Safe. You are taken care of and there is nothing to worry about other than settling into your new life on a new planet.”