by Meara Platt
He ignored her request and knelt to speak to his dogs in a language she did not recognize, perhaps an ancient pagan tongue. The words were enchanting as he spoke them, so she turned away to avoid accidentally being caught in his spell. There was something eternal and magical about this man, but not in a good or appealing way despite the masculine beauty of his form. “Please, don’t leave me bound like this.”
He continued to ignore her.
She released a shaky breath, her mind suddenly filling with thoughts of wild creatures, for he moved with the powerful grace of a beast from an ancient world, one that her heart recognized and wanted to protect. “My name is Georgiana Wethersby. Lady Georgiana, to be precise.”
She’d given away nothing that he hadn’t already known, for she didn’t believe he was innocent in her abduction or ignorant of her identity. “Won’t you please tell me your name?”
“You’re Georgiana?” Despite the brutal coldness of his stare, she sensed a sudden surge of volcanic heat within him and feared he would unleash his molten fury upon her. “The daughter of Penrith?”
She shook her head. “If this is revenge for a business dispute, I can assure you–”
“I have no business dealings with your father.” He moved close, and although he stood a full head taller than her average height, he seemed as big as a mythical leviathan looming over her. “I’m known as Dragon Lord Bloodaxe,” he said in a husky rumble and then turned to show her his back and the black dragon emblazoned in ink along its broad and muscled expanse.
“I know this dragon,” she said with a gasp. “It’s the coat of arms of the dukes of Draloch.” She reached out to touch it with her bound hands, spreading her fingers across his back so that her open palms pressed against his warm skin.
A flood of heat washed through her and seeped deep into her bones. Her heart began to pound with such force, she thought it might burst. “Dear heaven!” She struggled to hold back the tears suddenly threatening to spill onto her cheeks. Loss. Sadness. These were feelings that overwhelmed her. “Who are you to me?”
He shook his head as he turned to face her, his Draloch eyes the same compelling crystal blue as those of the black dragon etched on the muscled planes of his back. “I am Lord Bloodaxe,” he repeated, but she knew he purposely avoided giving her the answer she sought. “I live and rule as a Dragon Lord in my realm.”
She knew he was feeling the same powerful connection, he had to be. Her hands were still on him even though he’d turned to face her, now resting on his chest and splayed across his heart. She tried not to show her disappointment at its calm and steady beat. Hers was wild and pounding through her ears. She drew her tingling hands off his body. “What is a Dragon Lord?”
“A creature of the Underworld. One who reigns over the dead.”
She shuddered, unwilling to believe the vibrant sensations he roused in her heart had anything to do with death. Was this a dream? Or had she somehow lost her sanity? Had he lost his? The man appeared fully in control of his senses, but spoke of a world outside of the quiet Lake District where she had been raised or the fashionable London society where she’d spent the past several seasons paraded on the Marriage Mart. “Is this a hoax? We must still be in England. You would not have had time to bring me somewhere else.”
“I did not bring you here,” he reminded her, unfastening the silvery bonds he’d wrapped around the bedpost moments earlier and taking her by the arm to lead her to the window. He opened it and allowed the hot wind to blow inside. The gentle gust unsettled her, for the winter air should have been biting and cold. “Look up there, Georgiana. Tell me what you see.”
He stood close, his big body reassuring as she gazed at a red sky and the shadows of two moons. But she also saw a lake in the distance and several mountains that appeared much as one would expect an English lake or mountain to look. A bird flew by and landed on the ledge immediately below the window.
Georgiana peered out see what sort of bird it was, but it suddenly leaped up and tried to bite her. That fanged creature was certainly not a bird and would have embedded its sharp teeth into her skin if Lord Bloodaxe had not struck it with his fist and sent it tumbling back onto the ledge.
“Have a care.” He slammed the window shut. “This isn’t England.”
“No, indeed it isn’t.” His world was the one warned of in biblical tales and church sermons. She hardly got her words out, for they stuck in her throat like lumps of coal. Her hands were still shaking from that frightening encounter and her legs were about to give way. “Am I dead? Is this why I’m here?”
“No, Georgiana.” His voice was husky and soothing. In the next moment, he gave a slight wave of his hand and the last of her bonds magically disappeared. “You’re very much alive and don’t belong here.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Then you’ll set me free?”
He traced a finger lightly along her cheek, as though he also needed assurance that she was safe and unharmed. But he was a sorcerer of some sort, wasn’t he? Could he heal her if she were injured? “It isn’t up to me,” he said and drew his hand away.
“Who then?”
“I don’t know yet.” His crystal blue gaze stole the breath from her. “Maybe you.”
“Me?” She wasn’t certain what he meant by that. Was he suggesting that she pay for her freedom?
Mother in heaven!
What price?
Chapter Two
“If I don’t belong here, will you take me back home?” Georgiana’s eyes were soft and green as dew-soaked grass, big eyes that sparkled as she pleaded to be returned to the arms of her betrothed. Dark, velvet lashes enhanced their appeal. A riot of golden curls as vibrant as a summer sun tumbled over her slender shoulders. “Will you, Lord Bloodaxe?”
She tore at his soul, the very one he was certain had been lost for all eternity.
“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions,” he grumbled, uncertain whether his anger stemmed from finding her in his bed or from knowing that he somehow had to deliver her back to Wethersby Hall untouched. Untouched. She stirred the fires of his dragon lust and that was a dangerous thing.
Her green eyes widened and he noted a spark of fear in the emerald gaze she’d fixed on him. “Who should I ask if not you?”
“By the Stone of Draloch! Will you not give me a moment’s peace?” The urge to stop her mouth with his was overwhelming. The urge to kiss her and take her into his arms, to feel her soft, sweet body pressed against his, had his own body shaking. He wanted to couple with her and feel the beat of her heart hammering against his chest, hear her breathy moans of ecstasy against his ear as he pleasured her.
She’s an innocent.
Indeed, he had to deliver her back to her family soon. It was the only way to protect her, especially from him. He’d last seen Georgiana when he was a mere boy of ten and she was an infant, a baby girl too young to remember him. But he was a man now, and his body was responding as any man would to the beautiful woman who stood before him.
He turned away to finish dressing. She had regained consciousness shortly after his return from Brihann’s royal hall, and he’d just gotten out of his bath. He always washed after an audience with the High King because he needed to scrub the pervasive stench of that foul demon off his skin.
Now that she was awake, he didn’t know what to do with her. He’d been forbidden to return her to her own realm, yet he dared not leave her to roam free in the Underworld. He needed to come up with a plan to protect her. But who was the greater danger to her? Him or Brihann?
He made the mistake of glancing at her and saw her beautiful green eyes staring back at him. “My father is a man of means and I’m his only child. My betrothed is wealthy, too.”
“Do not speak to me of your betrothed.” Georgiana roused not only his dragon lust, but his possessive nature as well. A roaring heat now coursed through his veins and spread through his body like a wildfire out of control. It would take nothing for him to slip through a port
al and turn her bridegroom to ashes with one blast of his dragon fire. She’s mine. No one else can have her.
He turned away once more in a futile attempt to calm himself down.
But he heard her soft footsteps as she approached him. He ought to have kept her tethered so that she could not move around his chamber at will. “Am I forbidden to speak at all? You said not to ask you questions, so I didn’t. I’m merely trying to make conversation.”
The scent of wildflowers filled his nostrils. This was her fragrance, wild and delicate as the sweep of flowers across a summer meadow. She stood so close, he ached to touch her. He knew her skin would be soft as a rose petal. He yearned to kiss her as well, for she would taste as sweet as the wild strawberries that flourished in those summer meadows.
“Must we speak at all?” He pointed to his bureau. “I need a shirt to wear. May I dress in peace?” He arched a dark eyebrow. “Unless you prefer me as I am.”
“As you are?” Her cheeks turned pink and she began to stammer, a sign that she indeed liked what she saw of his body. Dragons were not celibate creatures until they found their life mate. Till then, they indulged in carnal pleasures. He was well aware of the signs of desire in a woman, and Georgiana was exhibiting all of them. “Indeed, not! By all means, Lord Bloodaxe, cover yourself. I merely thought… I didn’t…”
It pleased him that Georgiana desired him, no matter that she denied it.
She tipped her chin up in defiance when he grinned knowingly at her. “I forbid you to smirk at me.”
“Forbid?” He slipped the shirt over his head. “This is my fortress. You are in my Underworld kingdom.”
Now she was furiously nibbling her fleshy lower lip in dismay. “Yes, but you claim I’m not your captive.”
“You’re not.” He slammed the bureau door shut, knowing the sound must have startled her. “Neither am I your servant. Do not ever issue orders to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a contrite whisper, the gentleness of her voice like a punch to his heart. “If I appear flustered, it is merely because I’m scared. Please don’t walk out and leave me behind.”
He raked a hand through his still damp hair. “I have no intention of leaving you, Georgiana. You are under my protection now.”
“Oh, I see.” She rubbed her hands along the sides of her wedding gown. Wedding. To another. He had to get that odious garment off her before he did something foolish such as fly off and torch her betrothed. “Well, thank you for that. I… you must…” she said, continuing to stammer. Her eyes followed his every movement. “I’m sorry that I’m a nuisance to you. Are you in mourning?”
“No.” He always dressed in black, for this was his dragon color. He took his time donning his battle leather, preferring the taut, tanned animal hides that clung lightly to his body and allowed him to easily wield his axe. The chain mail favored by many in the demon armies was too cumbersome.
He also found that he particularly enjoyed dressing in front of Georgiana. She could not hide her curiosity and blushed whenever he caught her gaping at him. The innocent. He was struggling mightily to keep her that way. “I’ll have my servants bring clothes for you. Your wedding gown looks uncomfortable to wear.”
“It is.” She gasped. “I mean… the beading is very delicate… the laces are a little tight.”
He’d noticed, for her bosom was pushed up so that the swells of her breasts were on tempting display. But her words signified more than a gown that was pulled too tight. He sensed that her wedding ceremony was an uncomfortable thing for her. No doubt she felt the same about the marriage itself. She did not love the man she was about to take as her husband. “I could loosen them for you.”
She shook her head furiously. “No! It isn’t necessary.”
“You don’t trust me yet.” Or herself, he suspected, for the emerald glow in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks were unmistakable signs of passion. She was afraid of what might happen if he touched her.
So was he.
There was no telling what the demon part of him would do if he did not keep an iron control over himself. He was struggling already, his skin beginning to form dragon scales and his throat beginning to burn. She had ignited his dragon fire. “Remain in this chamber. Bolt the door behind me and allow no one in but me.”
“You just said you wouldn’t leave me.” Her eyes grew wide with fright. “Where are you going?”
“To scout my borders.” But that was not his only reason for escaping his chamber. He needed to shift into his dragon form and roar and spew flames until his dragon lust was spent. “I’ll be back in a moment. Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
“Very.” She glanced at her stomach and nodded.
“I thought so. I’ll bring us some food to share. I dare not take you into my dining hall just yet. We’ll dine in my chamber this evening. You’ll sleep here as well. It isn’t safe for you to be anywhere else.”
She grew deathly still at the mention of sleeping arrangements.
They’d discuss it when he returned.
He instructed his dogs to protect Georgiana while he attended to the true purpose for his departure, a purpose that had nothing to do with food, although he would remember to bring some back for them. The dragon fire now consumed his body. He had nymphs to take care of that need, but they no longer interested him.
He could have no other woman while Georgiana remained in his fortress. “By the Stone of Draloch, what’s happening to me?” But he knew, for this was the curse of dragons. Georgiana was meant to be his mate. He’d known it even in childhood, felt that tug when he’d peered into her crib and first set eyes on her. She had been swaddled in blankets and had gurgled at him when he’d bent forward to kiss her on her drooling lips to seal their betrothal.
Their marriage had been arranged in that long-ago time when he was a boy in England and eldest son and heir to the Duke of Draloch.
None of it mattered any more.
Arik Blakefield no longer existed. He was Lord Bloodaxe now and his soul was beyond redemption. But he understood why Brihann had brought her to him. Brihann was the black dragon who ruled the Underworld, but as his power waned, so grew his fear. Especially fear of him, for he was Bloodaxe, the one who would take Brihann’s place as High King. He was the next black dragon in the line of succession, the one who would eventually grow strong enough to depose the cruel and bitter king that was Brihann.
For some time now, Brihann had been plotting to weaken him. What better way to accomplish it than to deliver his dragon mate to him? “Georgiana,” he whispered her name with an agonized groan. She was meant to be his. She was his weakness. Brihann would use her to destroy him.
Bloodaxe climbed to the parapets, shoving open the heavy door and allowing the tension to flow from his body as the hot wind blew on his neck. He removed his battle leather and clothing, the very garments he’d made a great show of donning in front of Georgiana because he’d enjoyed shocking her and thrilling her. Mostly, he enjoyed the feeling it brought to his heart, for that organ had lain dormant for so many years.
He felt his wings begin to form along his back. His body began to writhe and twist as he grew black scales and a black snout. His black tail was long and spiked and flicked through the air like the crack of a whip. He was no longer Bloodaxe or Arik, but an ancient terror who soared above his fortress and flew across the fertile lands and blue lakes that were within his realm.
His dragon eyes scanned along his borderlands searching for signs of Brihann’s demon scouts. He peered over the mountain peaks, looking for signs of Brihann’s armies on the march. All was quiet, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long.
While Brihann meant him to be the next High King, he also feared his growing power and intended to keep him subdued until the very last.
But Bloodaxe felt his own power growing, and he was not one of Brihann’s mindless toadies who would always bend to his will.
He raised his dragon neck and roared. He flapped his dragon wing
s and soared toward the clouds.
He blew fire across the water until his lungs ached.
Only when spent of his lust did he return to the parapet and quickly shift back into his human form. He picked up the clothes he’d neatly stacked upon the stones and put them back on. How long had he been gone? Perhaps half an hour at most.
He hurried downstairs to his vast kitchen. Cooks and scullery maids were bustling about to ensure food was always available to feed his own demon armies. He gathered bread, cheese, and a flask of wine. “I’ll dine in my quarters this evening, Thomas. Bring me enough food for two.”
“Aye, m’lord,” his steward replied, casting him a knowing grin. “Only entertaining one nymph tonight?”
He winked back. “Bring up breakfast as well.”
His demon minions were as trustworthy as any demon could be, which meant that most were not trustworthy at all. Thomas and a handful of others had his confidence, but within limits. The fewer who knew of Georgiana’s existence, the better. He left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time, eager to return to his chamber.
He hoped Georgiana had obeyed his instructions to keep the door bolted.
He trusted Charon and Styx to keep her close.
But as he approached his tower bedchamber, he saw the door flung wide open and heard his dogs barking fiercely.
Where was Georgiana?
Was that a pool of her blood on his stone floor?
*
Georgiana knew she’d made a terrible mistake the moment she opened the door, but the woman who’d spoken to her through it had said she’d brought food at Lord Bloodaxe’s instruction. She’d sounded sincere, and the dogs hadn’t barked a warning. Of course, that did not excuse her mistake in disobeying a simple command to keep the door bolted.
Three women pushed their way in the moment she’d thrown the bolt. “Witch!” the first one cried and spat in her face. Charon and Styx growled and immediately moved between Georgiana and these women.