by Marie Daye
“That is not for you to decide. Eskil is my responsibility. Do you understand that?”
Gaalin nodded slowly.
“He will not harm anyone, and he is not to be harmed. That means you do not touch him without my permission. Understood?”
Gaalin nodded again, despite his desire to argue with her. Why should the death bringer be protected? He had slain so many mortal men and women, he had prevented their souls from ever reaching Valhalla. He was a vile creature, worse than the most evil of men in the land. Why, why should such a being be offered sanctuary?
Despite his many potential remarks he could use in an argument, and disregarding his frustration, he backed away from Libelle. She lifted Eskil’s less injured arm over her shoulder and aided him to return to his feet, guiding him towards the stairs.
“My, my lady. You can't be intending to allow him onto that floor. What if he were to try something?”
She paused a moment, then glared back at him. “Return to your quarters Gaalin, and do not disturb me for the rest of the night. I have to repair what you have done.”
She started up the stairs again.
“My lady, what if he were to try to harm you?!” Gaalin called, panic in his voice.
This time the threat in her eyes was empty of compassion, her power emitting from her as she spoke was more dragon-like than any normal mortal could possess. “I guarantee you he won't. But if you speak to me one more time this evening, it will be you who has to fear my wrath, and it will be you who will be left bleeding on my floor.”
Gaalin swallowed hard, watching Libelle escort Eskil up the flight of stairs where they disappeared down the dark hallway. He felt cold, frozen with pure terror that was inflicted for the first time by the dragon slayer.
She did not speak to him as his friend or as his lord; she spoke to him purely as the slayer, a very hostile and formidable one at that.
Chapter Seventeen
Gaalin glowered at the empty stairwell while kneeling down to pick up the two bloody daggers on the floor. He gritted his teeth in frustration, his eyes squeezing shut while he turned and slammed his fist down against the leg of the table. Damn it, he silently cursed.
He stood up and turned towards the closed double doors to the right of the dining hall, angrily pushing them open before slamming them shut behind him. Entering his living quarters, he walked across the room. He threw the stained blades onto his desk before slumping down into his cushioned chair.
“Curse that dragon scum.” He snarled.
He didn't understand anything right now and it was incredibly frustrating. Libelle had done a poor job at explaining the whole situation to him, she had ignored most of his questions while he filled her tub. Then when he had offered his assistance, for the first time ever she avoided his touch and refused his help.
“The priests tasked me with him, I could not disobey.” He mockingly repeated her, so childish he corrected himself. The priests of Uppsala? He had met the men only a handful of times, but he could not be of such high authority to govern a slayer. Why would she listen to the command of such a man, when half the time she ignored the words of the king’s?
He understood if she went to them for help, but why could she not have told him about it? Such an elaborate plan involving the dragon prince, she could have lost her life! Instead of fighting with Eskil again, she wanted to use magic against him. Had she lost her mind?!
Gaalin stood, beginning to pace back and forth in his room. “I understand that no one has been successful in taking that demon’s life. Hundreds have tried; swords, bows, magic, none have worked. Why would you be so reckless in trusting the word of a mischievous god to try and defeat him?”
He stomped his feet, his hands waving in the air.
“Curses Libelle! You could have died! You could have been struck down by that winged devil and I wasn't by your side.” His fist cracked against the wooden bed frame.
His lord had been so incredibly reckless. She had never stopped him from joining her on an adventure, he was always permitted to be by her side and be of assistance. Why had she chosen now, during such an event, to force him to return home?
He was glad that she had not been injured, she had returned home safe and seemingly like the same person. However, it filled him with fury that her longtime foe now had shelter within the walls of her home. The vile being did not deserve to sleep with the pigs!
“Gaalin, he could never harm me.”
He paused mid step and almost tripped at the recollection of her words. He could never harm her?
“Now what in all creation does that mean?!”
Had Eskil already attempted to hurt her? What was he thinking, of course Eskil had. The ancient dragon had already attempted to take her life more times than he could count. He remembered traveling with several other slayers, it was the first time he had encountered the first dragon who was created by the gods. He had nearly lost his own life at that battle, the cowardly dragon had finished devouring their comrades before burning the entire area and fleeing.
He had only seen the aftermath of one of their worst battles, she had returned weeks later than she was supposed. Upon her return he discovered how badly she was injured, she had barely survived and he figured he owed thanks to the priests for their aid in her care.
That was when she had received the scar that was clawed from her jaw to her chest. She had fought a terrible infection for weeks, he tended to her every need and waited on her like she was royalty. He had changed her bandages, healed her, he had saved her life. It was the only wound she had ever received that scarred, no healer in the land was able to remove it. It was her own curse, an everyday reminder that she had failed to take the dragon princes life.
How she had struggled to fight off the meager dragons that attacked the land. How he had struggled to fight by her side. For years he had faithfully served Libelle as her retainer and friend. He had fought valiantly with her since his youth, he spent his younger years with her and now almost thirty; he was nearing, if not past the age men would typically settle down with a lass and marry her.
Instead, he refused to marry. He didn't refuse a woman to his bed, but he made it clear he would not betroth himself to them, even if they carried his bastard child. His place was here, with Libelle. He would faithfully serve her until she had no need of a retainer, or a companion in war; then he would stay by her side as her husband, if she would have him. He did no doubt she would not refuse him.
He was the only man who knew her well, and he was of a select few who knew her identity as a dragon slayer in this area. He was the only man who was suitable for her.
Gaalin pulled off his shirt and loosened the leather ties of his pants, kicked off his boots and fell back onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, counting the veins in the wood while breathing slowly. How he boiled with rage, filled with jealousy and angst over the current situation.
He sighed, “There’s nothing I can do right now.” He decided.
The beast is here to stay until she decides otherwise. She takes her responsibilities seriously, and as foul as he is: he is her responsibility now. If she was tasked to take care of him, to watch him, that's what she will do. Gaalin would help her, even if it disturbs him.
So here he was, staring at his ceiling while his enraged lord was upstairs tending to the wounds of her mortal enemy. He would try to believe her that the bastard could not harm her, her or any other mortal being. The horned fiend may be behaving for now, but he would be there when he barred his fangs. When that happened, he would be ready for it, he would defend his lord and take the world-eaters head.
Gaalin sighed again, propping himself up on his pillows. As frustrated as he was, his member was as hard as a rock. His head fell back on his pillow. “My lady, my Libelle.” He murmured to himself. “My lovely, beautiful Libelle.”
His mind turned perverted and his lips curled upwards in a sadistic smile.
Envisioning her porcelain skin against the darknes
s of his own, her hands were on his stomach, her lips trailing kisses on his chest. Her hands moving up and down his body, long locks of hair tickling his skin, eyes smoldering with passion.
Gaalin’s hand slid beneath his pants, his fingers twisting around his cock and rubbing up and down. A soft moan passing his taut lips as his imagination went wild with the images he was creating. His desire to have Libelle was growing needier, he wanted her so badly. Yet there was nothing he could do about it, he was forbidden to touch her.
"So, do you want me then?"
Libelle’s words from weeks earlier echoed through his ears, the plumpness of her lips as she spoke made him want to kiss her. The emptiness in her eyes that day, made him want to pleasure her until her eyes filled with life and desire. He wanted to hold her until she never dreamed of another man holding her.
Gaalin’s hand pumped up and down faster, massaging his member with increased speed as his desire reached its peak. With an exasperated moan, he stared down into his hand, slick with his own cum.
“Yes, I want you lass.”
Chapter Eighteen
Libelle closed the door behind Eskil, a dragged out sigh passing her trembling lips. She rested her head against the door, staring down at the brass knob and twisting the lock. The strong smell of blood stained the air and she turned around to face Eskil, his wounds needed treatment or he risked infection.
She led him towards her bed, silently directing him to sit down while she examined his wounds. His lip was cut, his cheekbone bruised, his left hand bloody with a clean hole pierced straight through the tendon-filled area. His forearm was the worst, the dagger did not slice cleanly through his limb, and by pulling his arm from the chair he inflicted more damage. Blood continuously oozed from the wound, the blood bright red and oxygenated.
She placed her hand over the wound, a faint and familiar glow emitting from her palm as she once again used magic to heal him. Eskil watched her quietly, his energy sapped by the effects of the magic the gods had gifted her with. Her rage had seemed to subside, her expression growing tenderer as she sat beside him.
Eskil followed a tear that fell from her long lashes, traveling down her rosy cheek. Another tear followed, then another, not long after a current of tears she could not control rushed down her face. Instinctively, he pulled her into his lap and against his chest; stroking her damp hair and whispering comforting words to her.
“Calm yourself my little elf, calm down.” He cooed. “Shhh, I am alright.”
Her body shook with her tears, and her slender arms wrapped around his neck. He gently rubbed her back, his hand still needing healing as blood attempted to stain the red silk fabric.
“Shhh,” He whispered again. “Calm down, I am alright. My wounds are not serious.”
She sniffed back her tears, the effort futile as the salty liquid dampened his shirt.
He kissed her temple, a faint smile on his lips. “Libelle, easy now love. Beloved, look at me.”
She raised her head, her delicate fingers wiping away her tears before she made eye contact with him. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.
Eskil kissed her forehead. “Beloved, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“Gaalin, he-he hurt you. If I hadn’t left-”
“If you hadn't left he would have grown suspicious, and like you said: we’d both be on our way to the chopping block if someone was to find out about us. I understand, you separated us to protect us. Just because the grey skin felt like throwing a tantrum, doesn't make it your fault.”
He kissed her nose this time and she stared up at him, her eyes showing her pain.
“I felt it, I felt your pain and your anger. How is that possible?”
He pulled her back to his chest, his arms protectively wrapped around her. “Libelle, you’re my lifemate.”
Her arms wrapped around his neck even tighter. “What does that actually mean? I, I understand that it's similar to a soul mate?”
He inhaled her scent with a slow inhale. “Libby, beloved. A lifemate is so much more than what a mortal considers a soul mate.”
“Explain it to me. Explain how I can feel an incredible attachment to you, after years of fighting you. Explain how I lust over you, how I can't get enough of you, how I feel like I am growing to love you.”
“I will. I’ll explain everything.” He pushed themselves apart so he could look at her face. “First though, let’s tend to my wounds so I don't bleed all over your room. Alright?”
She lightly chuckled and nodded.
Eskil soaked in the faintly warm water that smelled of lavender while Libelle gently scrubbed his chest with a soft cloth. His head was resting back on the copper rim of the tub while he spoke to her.
“A dragon’s lifemate is not chosen at random, nor is it something we can decide. Our lifemate is chosen by Freyja, the goddess of love. Its fate, and nothing we do can change fate. Freyja and Freyr made it so only male dragons sense their lifemate, the females can sense it when we are near: but they don't have a constant drive to find him. Some sick twist that makes us go crazy searching for her, and until we find her we are nearly mad. Some dragons are fortunate enough to find their lifemate at a young age, while others can go almost their whole life without ever finding them. I told you before that somehow, when we see her: we just know. We look at her, then it’s as if the world stops and begins to revolve around her.”
“It sounds very special.” Libelle whispered.
“It is. A dragon's lifemate, there can only ever be one of them. They mate for life, never sharing each other with anyone else. The desire to betray their partner, it's never been felt. We become hopelessly devoted to the other. A dragon’s desire is to make their lifemate happy. We want her to always smile, to never feel fear or pain. We want to protect her. We would do anything for her, even if it meant dying for her.”
He smiled when a flicker of fear crossed her expression, he rubbed her cheek and traced his thumb over her lower lip.
“Dragon's bind to their lifemate on a deeper level than some verbal contract. Our souls are two pieces that make one. Our physical souls bind together, bound by vows that can never be broken. Only death could separate us, and by all the gods in existence I would never let that happen. When our souls are bound together, so are our hearts and minds. We can feel the other's emotions; their joy, sadness, anger and fear. We can feel their pain as if it were our own. We always know where the other is, and we will always be by their side.”
He sat up and pulled her close when the soapy washcloth paused against his chest, he kissed her lips, the kiss gentle but full of his desire for her. “It’s how I always knew where to find you. It’s how I always knew what you were feeling. It’s how you felt my pain tonight, and it's why you felt such rage when I was hurt. I am yours beloved, I belong to you for now and forever. You are mine, and you belong to me for now and forever.”
Libelle nodded at him in understanding, her eyes puffy and red. She squeaked in surprise when he pulled her over the metal rim of the tub and into the cooling water, it was still pleasantly warm, but he was much hotter. He untied her silk robe and removed it from her body, wringing the fabric out, then tossing it onto the floor. He wrapped his arms around her nude body, holding her close to him without uttering a word.
She looked up at him expectantly, “We shouldn't. He could hear.”
“I know, just let me hold you for a while.”
They sat silently in the water for several minutes, his fingers caressing her back while she twisted thin braids into his hair. Eskil opened his mouth his a yawn, his head still resting back on the tub.
He felt a timid and gentle kiss on his neck, the touch leaving a mark of fire on his skin. He smiled wickedly. “By the gods, I don't give a damn if he hears us.”
Chapter Nineteen
Several days had passed since Libelle and Eskil had returned to her manor. The days had been passed by quickly while she attended to her home and livestock, and both men bickered the days away.
Gaalin being his usual, overprotective and aggressive self towards the man-beast. Eskil had been sadistic and sarcastic, constantly taunting the dark elf in front of Libelle.
He had grumbled with her when she had forced him to sleep in the fully furnished room opposite of hers, yet despite his grumbling he still managed to sneak her away from prying eyes. Which was not often due to Gaalin’s constant hovering, Eskil had grown tired of the male servant and his sexual frustrations were growing overwhelming. When Eskil began playing practical pranks on the servant, Libelle knew she had to get them out the house or she would lose her mind.
“Gaalin, will you please take Eskil to the tailor and have him fitted for more… appealing clothes?” Libelle asked, examining a delicious looking red apple before adding it to her filling basket. She weaved through the markets of Edinburgh during the early afternoon, the trio leaving her home before dawn.
Eskil stood behind her with his arms crossed, a forced frown on his face while he followed her around the city markets. He glared from beneath the hooded cloak she had provided; the clothes he wore were tattered and smelt like a specific, foul smelling, grey skinned elf.
Gaalin was rummaging through his satchel, handing a few coins to the merchant. “Would it not be best to leave him in his current attire? He’s not worth spending the gold on.”
Eskil’s glare became less forced when he curled his lip at the man. “You’re not worth the air you breathe.” He hissed, loud enough for the drow to hear it.
Gaalin whipped around, raising his hand to strike at Eskil when Libelle’s slender fingers curled around his wrist. Her eyes narrowed, she spoke to him calmly.
“I’ve had enough of your ill-temper. I do not allow such treatment to my servants, and I will not allow such treatment of my captives.”
Gaalin’s hand lowered, and in a hushed tone he spoke to her with his back to Eskil. “My lady, you have still yet to explain to me what you're planning to do with him. Why exactly, are you wasting your coin on such a… creature?”