It couldn't be real. None of this could be real. It was a vivid and exquisite dream. A magical fantasy. And yet, from the feel of Duncan's powerful muscles beneath me, from the roar of the wind in my face, and the sharp exhilaration within, I knew that it was real—all of it.
Maybe it would all crash and burn. Maybe I couldn’t stay, but for now? I was going to enjoy the ride.
Chapter 10
Ahead of us, I now saw a break in the expanse of otherwise unbroken green—a clearing in the forest. With a lazy tilt of his wings, Duncan angled us down, gliding towards it. As we approached the ground, he pulled up, his wings rotating, slowing his descent. I marveled at the sheer strength of him.
We landed and Duncan crouched to allow me off. I climbed down with shaky legs, my heart still racing, pounding in my ears. With me safely down, Duncan reared onto his hind legs and sliced his tail sharply at the base of a tree. It fell to the ground and Duncan broke it up, the trunk snapping like a matchstick in his claws till it was the size of kindling. Carefully—those claws could be delicate, too—he built a fire, then motioned me back.
I quickly scampered away and even though I knew what was coming, it still made me jump when a thin streak of fire shot from Duncan's mouth, precisely lighting the pile of wood.
Was it wrong that I found that somehow sexy? To know that that power dwelt within him? Maybe not “wrong”, but certainly weird.
Again, Duncan changed quicker than MacKenzie, his body contracting back into human form with a suddenness that was breathtaking. His human muscles still gleamed with sweat from the dragon's exertions, and the sculpted mounds of his pecs rose and fell with deep breaths. I had always found Duncan attractive, and seeing that body builder's form naked was only going to enhance that, but I also found myself thinking that he was suddenly more attractive as a human now that I had seen him as a dragon. The aura of sexuality that hung around him was strong enough to taste on the air in those minutes after he turned back. Roaming across the contours of his honed body, my eyes inevitably travelled south. Nothing about Duncan was small.
I was not being very subtle in my staring and Duncan noticed me noticing him. There was another moment, as there had been at breakfast, when our eyes met, and the attraction between us became tangible and dangerous. But for all his youthful exuberance, Duncan had the maturity and self-control to look away, to end the moment. He stooped to the backpack, which I had placed on the ground, and pulled out some clothes, which he hastily began to put on.
"One thing about being a Dragon Shifter in the real world; you've got to plan ahead clothing-wise. It's like being a werewolf. Or the Incredible Hulk.”
I laughed. Dangerous attraction to one side; it was fun being with Duncan.
Over the fire, Duncan boiled water from a nearby stream and made cocoa—thick, hot and sickly sweet. He then pulled a flask from one of the pack's side pockets and, with an expression like a naughty schoolboy, added a dash of liquor to the drinks. We sat on one of the logs he had broken and sipped our drinks in perfect comfort.
"What was it like growing up as a Dragon Shifter?" I asked. There are certain questions you asked on a date—which was what this was rapidly becoming—and I tried to adapt those questions for my unique situation but it wasn’t easy.
Duncan shrugged. "I don't know, really. It's the only childhood I have so I have nothing to compare it to. We can shift from hatching—although we're always dragons when we hatch. I know human babies have to be smacked to make them breathe when they're first born—we're smacked to make us shift. That is our first act in the world, so it becomes as natural as breathing. But, of course, as a hatchling you don't know how to control it—you can't control it. It's an instinctive thing. So you shift back and forth for no reason. Like when babies cry; they do it because they don't know what's happening or how to react to the world and crying is how they deal with it. We shift."
"That must be difficult," I ventured.
"Maybe. Who remembers anything from that age? But it's good, too. We experience the world in two very different ways. It's important to know how to... to pick up a stick," he picked one up off the ground, "as a human and as a dragon. That's when we learn how not to kill things just by being in the same room as them, and how not to be killed by things that are harmless to a dragon but very harmful to a human. Fire, for instance. Human babies learn pretty quickly; fire equals pain. We have to learn that it equals pain in one form but not in the other." He half-smiled. "A lot of burnt fingers."
"Do you grow up together in groups?” I leaned in, fascinated and genuinely curious.
He nodded. "Dragons are communal, we do most everything in groups." His bright blue eyes flicked down to the forest floor for a moment. "That's one of the things that makes our dwindling numbers so... so difficult. Back in the day, I'd have been part of a brood of fifty to a hundred strong, tended by several females. But I grew up with just seven others. It may seem like a big family to you, but to us..." He stirred the ground with the stick. "Even at that age, knowing nothing, we still had a sense of something missing. I don't know if that will ever change, for the clan or our species."
I felt a tremendous sadness for him, and recalled how I had felt the night before with Alistair when he had told me about his mate. Along with the attraction that drew me to these men in an almost preternatural way, there seemed an empathetic connection as well. I felt their emotions as deeply as I felt my own—their sadness was mine. It brought us closer, but these moments were also when we were both at our most vulnerable, sympathy too easily spilling over into desire.
But I could rely on Duncan to not let that happen. The impish spirit of fun that dwelt in him would not allow melancholy to reign too long, and his sense of duty would not allow either me or him to give way to those pressing urges that tugged at us.
"But whatever I lacked in quantity I made up for in quality. I had great brothers growing up. Some are gone now—dead or moved on to other clans, which happens more now with the shortage of females. But those memories last." He laughed. "You've not played hide and seek till you've played it with a dragon—being able to change size by that degree really adds something to the game. Learning to hunt. Learning to fly—you can't imagine how it feels the first time."
"Breathing fire?" I asked.
"Breathing it comes naturally to us," Duncan explained. "Sort of like puberty—we only gain the ability when we're old enough not to kill ourselves. But controlling it? I could tell you stories."
“We’ve got all day."
So Duncan told me about him and his brothers learning to use their flames. About furniture accidentally lost to these early attempts, about pranks played with this new ability, and punishments meted down from parents, which just added a frisson of danger to future mischief. And as he told the stories we moved closer along the log. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if the air was becoming colder or the fire lower or if it just happened because the attraction between us could not be denied. As he talked, I felt his thrills and laughed with him at recollections that were not my own. To be linked together in happiness was a strange and wonderful thing, more powerful than attraction or sex appeal. And when you put those things together...
Looking back afterwards, I probably made the first move. There was something about Duncan at that moment, living in his childhood memories he seemed more sweet and adorable than ever, more bright and boyish. Simple happiness has a sexiness that often goes ignored. As he paused between stories, I stretched out and let my lips brush against his. I pulled away instantly, ashamed of what I had done, but he followed me, planting a peck on my retreating lips. We looked at each other and saw the guilt in the other's eyes, but saw the desire, too. Our heads tilted, our mouths opened and this time we kissed properly, and the relief was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure.
I wanted Duncan.
Yes, I wanted that body in my life but I also wanted that joy, that addictive energy and passion—I wanted something simply happy in my life. And
as I kissed him, I was as happy as I could remember being. Our hands had remained relatively chaste to that point, but they now began to move, exploring the other's body. His tongue traced my lips as I wound my arms around his neck. His palm cupped my breast as I arched my hips against him. And when I felt his thick length pressing against me, I gasped.
Good. So freaking good.
I don't know if either of us would have had the strength or self-control to pull back from the precipice on which we had placed ourselves.
But then the sun vanished and a chill shuddered through me, sucking away the warmth between us. Duncan pulled sharply away from me to look up into the sky, and as he did so I heard a hideous sound, ripping through the peace of the forest, an unearthly shriek, that was immediately joined by more and more. My stomach tightened in an instinctive fear—as if I had heard the noise before.
Before I could look up to see where the sun had gone and where the sound was coming from, Duncan had swept me up into his strong arms—as easily as if I was made of paper.
"What's wrong?” I demanded, heart hammering. “What's happening?"
He didn't answer, but ran across the clearing, with me pressed tightly to his chest. Just beyond the tree line, a ragged wall of rock burst through the forest floor, overhung with creeping plants that festooned it. Holding me now with just one arm, Duncan dragged back a curtain of hanging creepers to reveal a natural alcove in the rock. In here he deposited me.
"Stay here, and stay quiet." It was the most serious I had ever heard Duncan speak, and to hear his voice infused with gravity, or even fear, made my blood run cold.
"Duncan..."
"Don't come out, no matter what you hear. Promise me, lass.”
I nodded, terrified and rooted to the spot.
With that he was gone, hurrying back the way he had come, shifting seamlessly into golden dragon form as he went, the clothes splitting and tearing from his expanding body.
I dared to peer out between the undergrowth to try and see what was happening and from what we were hiding. The hideous shrieks continued, growing now in number and volume. Up in the sky, beyond the forest canopy, I saw darkness, as if the sky had turned black at midday. But as I stared, and found a way to see past the undergrowth and tree branches, I saw that the darkness itself was moving, moving with the flapping of dozens of leathery wings, blocking out the sun.
Chapter 11
I had a pretty good view of the clearing, while still keeping out of sight in my hiding place, and there I got my first good glimpse of these new creatures as one landed in front of Duncan, hissing viciously, a forked tongue protruding from its mouth. I had to describe them as dragons, because I had no other word to use, but they were certainly nothing like Duncan or MacKenzie—or I assumed Callum and Alistair. They were smaller for starters, less powerful and more snake-like, their bodies were jet black, their faces narrow and sharp. A row of wicked-looking spines ran down their backs and their wings looked to be edged with razors. Their eyes were malevolent and hate-filled.
They began to land around Duncan, small jets of fire escaping their mouths each time they breathed, as if they could not wait to destroy something. They snapped at him, their serpentine necks darting their heads forward then pulling back quickly, afraid to get too close for too long, marshalling their courage as their numbers increased. Duncan turned about, trying to watch all of them at once. He might have been bigger than them and stronger, too, but he was surrounded and outnumbered. My heart was in my mouth as I watched.
What were these things? Why had they attacked us? Questions that ceased to have any real meaning when one of the creatures finally summoned up the courage to throw itself at Duncan when he had his back to it. Duncan heard it coming, grabbing it in mid-air, making it scream louder, writhing in his strong grip. The scream seemed to ignite the fuse that had been smoldering in the others and more of them dived towards Duncan, hissing, snapping and breathing fire. In an arcing movement, Duncan swung the creature he had caught around, knocking down those that approached and making the others retreat, squealing harsh warnings at each other. They seemed incapable of acting independently, but would only attack in threes or fours, scuttling forward then dashing back again when Duncan rounded on them. They were scared of him, there was no doubt about that, but their hate seemed to push them on. I could almost smell their hatred in the air, an acrid stink, sharp and pungent. Whatever they were, they loathed Duncan.
A small group of them rushed forward and spat fire in Duncan's direction, and he spun to face them, opening his mouth wide and letting loose a huge seething fireball into their midst, making them scream and skitter away. It seemed as if Duncan was keeping them at bay, but it was not a victory, only a stalemate—they were getting braver all the time, now nipping at his tail and hind-quarters when they dashed in, their sharp, needle-like teeth drawing blood, enraging Duncan, who swung at them. But while he was stronger, larger, and braver than them, they were quicker. They were drawing closer now, running circles about him so he could not follow them all; jumping over him with wings beating just enough to keep them out of his grasp. They were distracting him, disorienting him, forcing him to try to look everywhere at once. They cackled with strange animal laughter.
They had also begun to slink around the outskirts of the clearing, noses twitching. However stupid they seemed—and while they clearly had some low cunning, they did not strike me as thinkers—they had enough animal intelligence to realize that Duncan should not still be here on the ground. In the air he had more of an advantage—they could not surround him, he was obviously a stronger flier, he could make better use of his fiery breath. He could even make a run for it back to his castle. Why was he staying here on the ground where he was hampered? The answer was me. He could not leave me. If he took to the air, even temporarily, then there was a chance they would find me and he would not let that happen. By staying, he was putting himself in danger, and I felt appallingly guilty for that, but he was also drawing their attention to the fact that he had a reason to stay, and they were trying to sniff out that reason.
Perhaps it was a fear of them smelling me that drove Duncan to go on the offensive, something he was in no position to do. With a rumbling snarl and a sudden turn of speed, he leapt at one of the sniffers, his golden body twisting in the air, landing with a thump on the creature, making it whine, spit flame in his face, and dart snapping bites at his neck and fore-legs. Now that Duncan's attention was focused on one of the number—and they were more than happy to sacrifice him—the other creatures took their chance and threw themselves at him with murderous abandon.
I bit my lip hard, tasting blood in my mouth as I looked on. He batted the newcomers away as best he could, but that meant taking his claws off the one he had pinned down, which bit at him savagely every chance it got. Unable to keep the one creature pinned as the others attacked him, Duncan rolled away, crushing some beneath him. Using all four legs to claw at his attackers, he beat them back, snapping his jaws at them. One, he grabbed in his mouth and shook it fiercely; another was grabbed and hurled against a tree, which it hit with a sickening crack; a kick from his powerful hind legs sent two more flying. Back on his feet, he leapt into the air, wings beating furiously to let him hover for a moment before diving back down into the fray, clawing, biting, lashing out at anything that moved. The creatures rallied, moving as one like a flock of birds. They twisted their sinuous bodies, avoiding Duncan's muscular blows, seeking out his vulnerabilities and nipping at his body, making him roar with pain and frustration.
I could see the blood now, flowing between the scales from Duncan's many bites and scratches. They couldn't beat him as such, even all working together they would never inflict a single wound large enough to take out Duncan, but by inflicting lots of small wounds they could bring him down from exhaustion and blood loss. Not even a dragon as powerful as Duncan could keep going forever.
The thought seared through my mind like a hot needle; this was my fault. If he had bee
n caught here alone he could have beaten them in the air or simply gone back to the castle—the four brothers together would easily have beaten these things. But Duncan had to protect me. That was what was going to kill him. And I was going to see it happen.
My heart rose as Duncan erupted from beneath the pile of smaller dragons that had begun to envelope him with their serpentine bodies, roaring like a volcano, hurling them off like a force of nature. With one mighty swat of his right fore-leg, he sent three of the creatures flying and they all scurried away, back into the circle surrounding him. They all knew that an injured animal could be more deadly than a healthy one, desperate, as it had nothing to lose. While Duncan was bleeding, he was a long way from fatally wounded, he was still stronger than any of them, still dangerous.
He paced in the center of the circle, a feral swagger in his movements; daring them to attack. Then he stumbled, as if one of his legs would not hold him. At this sign of weakness, all the creatures attacked at once, piling into him, flame flaring, teeth flashing, claws out. I couldn't bear to watch but found I could not look away as they descended on him.
But Duncan was gone.
For a moment, I thought he had actually vanished, then I saw the naked man forward roll out from the tangle of smaller dragons, bleeding from more wounds than I could count. He had waited till they jumped and then he had shifted, the sudden change in size confusing his attackers, who were now attacking each other. No sooner was he free than Duncan had shifted again, but now with the upper hand and with all his enemies in one place. A cascade of flame poured from his mouth, eye-scorchingly bright, like magnesium burning, making the smaller dragons howl. Before the flames were gone, Duncan launched himself at the burnt, confused and angry creatures, claws swinging, jaws closing on whatever was in front of them, tearing skin and flesh and bone alike, hurling his opponents this way and that.
Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem: A Paranormal Holiday Fantasy Page 7