The Twin Dragons: Book III in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  She couldn't do it. She needed something big—bigger than the wall of shields and swords, and she searched, with her eyes and with her powers...searched frantically for something large she could move all at once.

  A giant fallen tree, freshly jagged at its separation from its trunk—had Strelzar splintered it? Had Virro sliced it? She had no time to wonder, just latched onto its scarce Earth energy, deep in its woody core, and pulled it toward her, setting it on a rolling trajectory down the hill. It spiraled wildly and quickly toward her, and she ran, sprinted, as fast as she could until she was at its end with only a matter of inches sparing her from being wiped out in its path. She latched onto it again, for a moment, to speed it on its course toward the wall of shields that pursued her, and it pummeled into the row of foot soldiers, knocking them all down to a chorus of smashing metal, wailing and groaning.

  Not a second later, another volley of arrows descended upon her, these without fire and from the far end of the path that cut through the training area. As they neared, she stopped them just in front of her, throwing them to the ground with a clatter that sounded like applause. She strode toward the row of archers as they pulled their next arrows from their quivers and prepared their next shots.

  Grabbing onto the thin, stringy, tense energy of their wooden bows, she held them in their taut state, not allowing the archers to release. They squirmed and groaned against the ache of being forced into the strenuous position, unable to move out of it. She strode toward them powerfully as she lifted all the wooden bows, with their archers, several feet in the air simultaneously, and sent each of them flying in different directions, each archer vocalizing his agony when he hit the ground, or crashed into a tree. They all stood and scurried, just as the others had.

  She knew it wasn't over. She could sense it. And her senses proved to be correct when, farther back on the path, behind where the row of archers had just been, two knights on horseback with large, intimidating jousting poles prepared their runs at her.

  They approached so fast—the horses were so much faster than men on foot. She tried to latch onto the horses' metal shoes, but they were moving too quickly for her to track, and she was wasting time—they lowered their poles at her and closed in on her faster than she could think. She turned and started to run toward the carriage, her breath panicked and trying to keep up with all her exertion. She tried desperately to remember everything she had noticed, everything she had felt here before. The trees, the metal, the bricks—the bricks!

  As she continued her dash to the carriage, she latched on to the bricks that lined the path behind her, grabbing onto one, two, three at a time, as many as she could handle with her dwindling energy before grabbing a new batch, maneuvering them into a wall behind her. The horses and riders slammed into it with the thud of flesh and the crunch of wooden poles and the whinnies of angered horses, unable to stop or swerve around it in time.

  She sighed in relief and stopped running, but her relief was short lived as she turned around to see the knights circumvent the wall on their still standing steeds, pulling swords from their sides to replace their damaged jousting sticks.

  Her stomach lurched and she tried to catch her breath as they began to pursue her again.

  All she had wanted to do was impress the King, she thought with frustration—the King with his constant adoration and affection, and then his waiting and withdrawal. Why did he tempt her? Why did he tease her? Why did he want her, then make her want him, then do nothing about it? her own voice screamed in her head.

  Her fists and jaw clenched in anger and frustration and she plunged down into a kneel, her knee hitting the ground sharply and painfully, driving her hand into the dirt of the path, clutching a fistful of it and closing her eyes.

  Connecting to the ground, the soil of the forest, the Earth that connected all, and letting her anger toward Browan fuel her, she found the roots of all the trees in the patch of forest that surrounded the training ground. She connected all the way up the roots to their bases, a dozen of them at least, if not more. She shook them, cracked them, pulled at them, and felt the ground quake as the massive trees quivered and trembled.

  The horses stopped in their tracks, dancing in agitation in their spots. Veria stood, opened her eyes and stared down the knights, letting the dirt in her fists trickle slowly through her fingers.

  “This is going to hurt,” she warned.

  With the drain of all her elemental energy, she pulled every tree she was connected to as hard and fast she could, each cracking completely at its base and beginning a slow, swooping descent to the ground. She watched as trunk after trunk hit the forest floor, each with a thud, each shaking the earth under her feet, several landing on the knights and their horses, taking them to the ground. She didn't wait to see if they got up and left like the archers and soldiers. She spun on her heels in determination and ran to the carriage, flinging the door open and climbing inside.

  Browan stared at her in disbelief.

  “How was that?” she asked, her breath broken and panting from her efforts.

  “That was...” he trailed off, staring at her with his mouth open. He held a pocket watch in his hand.

  “Well?” she pressed, reaching for the watch. “How did I do? Better than Strelzar?”

  Browan swallowed hard and continued to stare at her, but his mouth closed and his eyes went wide and wild as they bore into her face.

  “How much of his skill set do you share?” he asked, his tone urgent and serious.

  Veria continued to try to steady her breath as she collapsed into the carriage seat in exhaustion. “I don't know,” she sighed. “I assume he knows everything there is to know about his element. I just do the earth shifting...and can hear desires. And can place them,” she admitted, realizing suddenly what he was worried about.

  “And have you...?” he asked, trailing off, seemingly incapable of finishing a thought or statement on this day.

  “No,” she said. “Well, I heard your desires the first day, but, I stopped. And I haven't manipulated you in anyway.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because you're my friend,” Veria said. “And I respect you.”

  He didn't respond, just continued to stare at her with unbridled intensity.

  “You can get a verifier—”

  “I trust you,” he stated firmly.

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?” Veria snapped furiously.

  “Are you angry with me?” he scoffed.

  “Yes!” she yelled angrily, crossing her arms.

  He stared her down, leaning closer to her as he did. “Why?” he murmured.

  She swallowed hard, preparing for another one of his infuriating moments of lust followed by sudden retraction. “Your maddening self-control,” she snarled, pulling herself up from her reclined pose in the carriage seat.

  “Well, you're in luck then, honey,” he growled, leaning even closer. “I didn't bring any today.”

  Veria only had a moment to fully grasp what he had said and meant before he had closed the gap between them, grabbing her by her neck and waist and pulling her into him swiftly and urgently. She gasped as their lips met, and his spread into a satisfied grin against hers. He pulled her into a kiss, pressing his lips into hers, eager to explore for the taste of honey and rose oil he had mentioned the previous night at the feast.

  Suddenly, his hands were firmly grasping the undersides of her thighs, and he lifted her into his lap with no effort. She moaned as he positioned her legs on either side of his, and he echoed her utterance of approval.

  “Do you know how long I've wanted this?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.

  She nodded, unable to speak, her breath even more staggered and desperate than when she had been out on the training grounds, her mind riddled with desirous thoughts as she pressed her body against his and ran her lips across his sinewy neck.

  “No one will see us together for many weeks to come,” he breathed in h
er ear.

  She pulled away and took in his face. “You did this just—?”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Not just for this. It needed to be done. But ever since I knew it needed to be done, I knew it was a chance to get away from the castle. From everyone. From the eyes and ears and scandalous gossip—”

  Veria plunged her lips onto his, stopping him from uttering another word for the moment, drinking him in, finding that he tasted of the musky treebark he wore as cologne and a smooth, creamy sweetness that reminded her of custard, his favorite dessert.

  “Strelzar beat you by a minute,” he said, breaking from her lips and gasping for breath. “But only because he lit the entire second half of attackers on fire. You were vastly more impressive. I wanted to get out of this carriage the whole time and—”

  “Did he take the dragonskin?” Veria interrupted.

  Browan nodded. “You were the only one who refused.”

  “Did you?” Veria asked, knowing the goal of the exercise was to protect the carriage, and thus, him.

  He shook his head.

  “What is wrong with you?” she snapped, punching him in his solid chest.

  “Hey!” he protested, grabbing her hands to prevent any further hits to his person. “I could ask you the same! There were dozens of arrows pointed at you. Ten of my finest swordsmen! You could have been killed if you slipped up even a second—you put yourself in the path of that giant rolling tree trunk!” his voice raised to a yell.

  “I can take care of myself!” she shouted in return.

  “Oh, I've heard that before,” he rebutted in matching volume, “right before you got this,” he barked, ripping her vest and shirt open effortlessly, causing her to cry out, and revealing the long, still-fresh scar just under the bottom of her ribs. His hand ran over it softly, her skin prickling, her chest flooding with so much agony and desire at his fingertips against her bare skin that she thought she might burst into flames.

  “Browan,” she pleaded.

  “Oh, Veria,” he moaned, burying his head into her shoulder, continuing to run his hand along her scar.

  He slipped his hands into the waist of the pants of her uniform and, with seemingly little effort, began to rip the seams along the sides. She inhaled sharply, biting her lip as he pulled the pants away from her slowly. She instinctively reached out and ripped down the center of his button-front shirt, sending buttons flying across the interior of the carriage, exposing the hard cliffs of his barreling chest, which she knew were there but had yet to see until this moment.

  “How many uniforms would you like?” he asked with a smirk.

  “That's up to you,” she purred, repeating his words from the infirmary back to him.

  He grinned, and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, running his hands across her naked skin. When she pulled his shirt completely off of him, he bucked urgently against her, alerting her to the last layer of fabric separating them. She grabbed his pants by the waist, lifting herself just enough to slide him out of them. He aided her by shimmying out of them the rest of the way, then pulled her back down into his lap once they were out of the way.

  She threw her head back and gasped as she felt him against her, ready and waiting.

  “Veria,” he groaned urgently. “Veria, I need you,” he gasped, his breath ragged against her lips. “I've needed you for a long time.”

  She lifted herself above him, and he grabbed by her hips and brought her back down to him, joining their bodies with a synchronized moan from both of them.

  Her body trembled with the weeks of tension, of building desire that flooded every inch of her as they finally became one. He grasped for her face and pulled it into his desperately, kissing her passionately as they began to move in unison in the rigid seat of the carriage.

  Browan dropped his head back and cried out in ecstasy. Veria felt like she might explode at the sound of it, but not from her own satisfaction—from his. He lifted her again by the hips, and pulled her back down with desperation and necessity, his entire body shaking, her entire body coming alive as he reached a new depth within her.

  He continued, fervently, passionately, lifting her slightly and pulling her back into him until neither of them could stop the trembling, quaking, ecstatic release that had built within them. He sucked her lips into his and pulled their bodies as closely together as he could before he broke, and she whimpered and swiveled against him madly, trying to take him in deeper as she joined him in the conclusion of their weeks of tension and arousal.

  Their lips broke apart as they both struggled for air, burying their heads into each other's bare shoulders.

  He laughed against the thin skin of her collarbone, letting his teeth graze it hungrily.

  “You exceed all my expectations, Veria,” he murmured.

  And before she had a chance to respond, he placed a hand on either side of her face and held it in direct line with his eyes, satisfied and grateful, but yet, still hungry and salacious behind the immediate pleasance.

  “There will be weekly barracks checks, with at least sixteen hours notice of your barrack check time,” he explained, his eyes intent and ravenous. “I will be alone, and you will be alone in your suite.” She nodded, swallowing hard. Aching, agonizing heat rose up from her stomach through her chest again, despite having just been fulfilled by him. “The trials will be weekly, as well,” he said. “The soldiers only leave the training ground after the last trial, of which there will soon be five. Would you like to be last, Commander?”

  She nodded fervently, her breath catching in her chest as she realized how thoroughly he had been planning their future private meetings, all the while she had thought he had been distancing himself from her.

  “Good,” he murmured. “I'm pleased to hear it.”

  She felt him arouse within her again and she instinctively tightened around him, the fire of desire erupting throughout every inch of her body.

  “No one will come looking for me until after lunch,” Browan whispered, his lips against hers.

  They wrapped their arms around each other and began again, and stayed intertwined in the carriage for as long as time would allow.

  - VIII-

  Turqa and Aslay, an exquisitely attractive woman with wild brown hair, a bit younger than Veria's mother, arrived that evening. Veria didn't have to stretch her imagination to see why Strelzar had pushed her to come, nor did she have any doubt that he had vastly enjoyed every minute of her apprenticeship, whenever it had taken place. She was quiet, though, about as quiet as Virro, and not from shyness or nerves. A frigidity surrounded her that Veria thought odd for a Fire Mager, most of whom were generally on the charismatic and passionate side.

  Turqa, on the other hand, did seem nervous and unsure of his decision. Strelzar constantly assured him he made the right choice, and told him that if he didn't feel comfortable drowning people with pond water or flooding entire armies, then he could just focus on trying to recreate dragonskin and being the Guard's physician. Veria tried not to be so morbid in her reassurance and pep talks, which she felt awkward doing to someone twice her age and experience, but she knew it was part of her post to lend morale to the Guard.

  The two new recruits settled into the barracks before another welcome dinner, where Browan alternated between behaving distantly and fondling Veria under the table, which drove her mad and set her on a course of desperate desire for the next five days until the barrack checks.

  Their lives went like this, week in and week out, a succession of training during the day, which all five of them rotated through—when you weren't training, eating or sleeping, you guarded the King in four hour shifts—then the weekly barrack check mid-week, weekly time trials that constantly changed format and difficulty at the end of the week, the occasional new recruit, the occasional the occasional welcome dinner...

  And every opportunity given to them, Veria and Browan used fully. The regularity and routine to their meetings did not diminish the longing and desire for them,
at all. In fact, Veria was surprised at how intensely she still ached for him and wanted him every moment she was around him or thought of him. Her guard shifts, and the occasional strategic meetings that he had her sit in on, since she was the Commander, were awful. Worse than the dinners. She walked next to him, stood next to him, listened to his warm honey voice, saw him sneak glances at her, all the while behaving indifferent and reserved.

  More than once, however, they had found a few short moments of complete solitude, in the strategy room after the others had left, or in quiet hallways where no guards stood post. He would change in an instant as soon as he realized his window, turning into a hungered animal, grabbing her and laying her across the nearest table or pressing her into the stony wall of the nearest nook, feeding on her lips in a frenzy. In those instances, they never had time for more than a prolonged, intense kiss. Even knowing the situation, and even though she craved every minute of his affection she could have, when his lips would break from hers and he would switch back to the King, and not her Browan, she could feel all the heat in her body break and turn with sickening celerity to ice and emptiness.

  Most nights, she sat in her den, which had become a sort of communal room for all the Elementals, which now totaled eight, and drink and chat, mostly with Strelzar and Turqa and the newest recruit, a young and talkative Wind Mager they had found at a seaside Mager Fair in South Londess named Sureven. Sureven had an interesting combination of deeply tanned complexion, ice blue eyes, and scruffy pale-yellow hair, which Strelzar had tried to get him to trim many times, and Sureven, almost as vain as Strelzar, mostly because he was so young and had apparently had a bevy of female admirers in the South to stroke his ego, always declined.

  Virro and Aslay generally sat in the library and read in quiet, though Veria always wondered if Virro was sending her private wind messages about the rest of them, as sometimes they would both suppress a chuckle or snort through their noses, but never looked up from their books.