Dragon's Curse: a Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy Book 3)

by Jasmine Walt

  Unfortunately for him, Drystan was thinking the exact same thing. He smirked at Lucyan over Dareena’s shoulder as he lay down on the floor, pulling her back with him. Dareena squirmed a little as he positioned her over his cock in such a way that her back rested against his chest. Lucyan watched intently as Drystan took his cock into his hand and slowly guided it into their mate’s swollen, glistening folds.

  “Drystan,” Dareena moaned as he impaled her from beneath. She braced her feet on the floor on either side of Drystan’s hips and rocked back and forth, sliding him in and out of her. Lucyan’s mouth watered at the sight of her breasts bouncing with the movement, and he dropped to his knees between Drystan’s legs so he could lick and suck at her tits again. Gods, they were so round and juicy, with such perfect nipples that strained against his tongue, begging for more.

  But they were not the only things Lucyan wanted to taste.

  “More,” Dareena panted as Lucyan blazed a path down the center of her abdomen. He dipped his fingers between her legs and slid his tongue along her upper folds, searching for her clit. He knew he had found it when Dareena cried his name, sinking her hands into his hair again and pressing his mouth against her. Lucyan was more than happy to oblige, tonguing her sweet spot while Drystan fucked her.

  Once upon a time, the thought of sharing his mate with his brothers would have repulsed him. But now, it was as natural as breathing. She did not merely belong to them. She owned them, body and soul, and as she was the savior of their race and the one who laid claim on their hearts, they would do anything to serve her.

  “Lucyan,” Dareena cried as he sucked her clit hard, driving her over the edge. Her nails dug into his scalp as she came, and he lapped up her juices eagerly, loving the taste of her. Her body vibrated between them, and Drystan groaned, his body going rigid as he came inside Dareena. For long seconds, Drystan clung tight to his mate as they came together, and then the two of them relaxed on a long sigh.

  “That was wonderful,” Dareena said, her voice filled with tired satisfaction.

  “Yes, it was.” Lucyan kissed her, then scooped her up and set her on his bed. His cock ached, wanting more, but he didn’t have the luxury of time. “And we’ll do it again when I come back.”

  “You’re leaving now, brother?” Drystan asked. He’d gotten to his feet and was pulling up his trousers.

  “Yes. Ryolas is waiting for me in the courtyard.” Lucyan picked up his own trousers and shoved his legs into them. He would have to take them off again when he shifted, but he couldn’t very well walk through the Keep without a stitch of clothing on, even at night.

  Drystan nodded, his expression solemn. “Be safe, brother,” he said gruffly. They clasped each other in a brief but heartfelt embrace.

  “Lucyan.” Dareena snagged his wrist as he turned away, pulling him back to her. She kissed him again, slow and sweet, her soft mouth eating away at his resolve. “Please, be careful. I want Basilla and you to come back.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lucyan said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I won’t be getting my arm chopped off. And even if I do, I can grow it back.”

  Dareena swatted at him. “You know what I mean,” she said, and he laughed. “You’re taking a piece of my heart with you, Lucyan. Bring it back safely.”

  Lucyan’s smile faded. “I will,” he promised, giving her one last kiss. He pulled her into a fierce hug, imprinting the feel of her body against his one last time. He knew the stakes—if he, or either of his brothers, died before the babe was born, the curse might never be lifted. He would get in, grab Basilla, and get out.

  And if he could find some way to win the war while doing so, all the better.

  3

  Lucyan met Ryolas in the courtyard, as agreed. The elf traveled lightly, carrying only a short sword, bow and arrow, and a small pack, for which Lucyan was grateful. Though the elf was slim of frame, he was still bound to be heavier than Dareena, and Lucyan did not want to be weighed down any more than necessary.

  “You’ll have to hold onto my pack,” he told Ryolas as he stripped off his clothing. “Please don’t let go of it under any circumstances.”

  “I’ll keep it safe,” Ryolas promised. His eyes glimmered in the moonlight as he watched Lucyan shift into dragon form.

  Lucyan wondered if the elven prince had been spending his last hours at the Keep with Tariana, as he had been doing with Dareena. Then he quickly shoved that thought out of his mind before it started producing images he’d rather never see.

  Pain rippled through Lucyan as his body stretched and grew, trading skin for scales and teeth for fangs. But with the pain came power rolling through him like thunder. As he reared up on his hind legs and stretched his wings to their full span, he couldn’t help feeling like a god, even knowing that he was still puny in the face of the real dragon god. Was this how his father had felt every time he’d shifted? Had he let the power go to his head and turn him into an avaricious wretch who had nearly brought down their kingdom?

  The thought sobered Lucyan, and he lowered himself back to the ground. He would not let that happen. Ever. A man who let himself be blinded by power was a fool, and not worthy of wielding it.

  “Are you done showing off, then?” Ryolas asked dryly, looking him over. “I’d like to get on, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Lucyan huffed, lowering his belly to the dirt and stretching his wings out so Ryolas could climb up. The elven prince could pretend not to be impressed, but he saw the awe in his eyes and the caution in his gait as he approached. Lucyan held still as Ryolas climbed on, waiting until the prince was seated between his wings. He didn’t want to accidentally impale the elf on his spikes—Tariana would murder him.

  Satisfied that Ryolas was safely situated, Lucyan gathered his weight in his legs, then launched himself into the sky with a powerful flap of his wings. He soared fifty feet, then flapped again, his wings straining as he pushed himself higher into the sky. Finally, he caught a draft, and snapped out his wings to ride the current, letting it propel him east.

  To Shadowhaven.

  “Phew.” Ryolas let out a breath of relief. “That was far more intense than I’d expected.”

  Lucyan chuckled, the sound coming out like a rumble. “Watch it,” Ryolas scolded. “If you laugh too much you might knock me off my seat.”

  Pussy, Lucyan wanted to say, but alas, he could only speak to other dragons when he was in dragon form. Dareena hadn’t been this twitchy when he’d carried her. But then again, Dareena was the Dragon’s Gift, and she trusted him with her life. Ryolas was an elf, and elves were never meant to ride the wind. Perhaps Lucyan could forgive his apprehension.

  As they soared across the terrain, barreling forward at far faster speeds than one could ever hope to achieve on horseback, Lucyan pondered the mission ahead. He’d packed illusion amulets for himself and Ryolas—the two of them would pose as humans, since any attempt to pretend to be warlocks would immediately be foiled if either were called upon to perform a spell. Lucyan hoped that Ryolas’s resistance to metal was as strong as he claimed; the stuff was everywhere in Inkwall. The warlocks were very proud of their magical prowess, but they put equal amounts of energy into developing machinery and new technologies. They considered themselves an advanced civilization and viewed Elvenhame and Dragonfell as antiquated, perhaps even barbaric.

  It bothered Lucyan greatly that the warlocks had not only managed to become a thorn in their side without them noticing, but that the thorn had also dug deep, heading straight for the heart. That they were not aware of Shadowhaven’s plan to pit them against the elves told Lucyan that their spymaster was focused on the wrong thing. Perhaps that was not entirely his fault—his father’s enmity against the elves had undoubtedly distracted Shadley from keeping a better eye on the warlocks. Now that their attention was focused on the correct enemy, they would not allow such a thing to happen again.

  The border between Dragonfell and Shadowhaven came into view just as dawn crested the hor
izon, caressing the land with her delicate fingers of pink and gold. Lucyan put on a burst of speed and flew over the border. Hunting for a place to land before he was spotted, he caught sight of a small herd of goats grazing in a clearing in the middle of a thickly wooded forest. He tucked his wings at his sides and dove for the clearing. He thought he heard Ryolas yell, but the wind roaring in his ears masked the sound, and hopefully no one below would hear it either.

  The goats saw him coming from a few hundred feet up and bolted, bleating in terror. But one of them had a lame leg, and Lucyan snatched him up in his claws seconds before he landed. The animal struggled in terror as Lucyan touched down, its hooves kicking against his scales, and Lucyan quickly broke his neck to silence him.

  “By the gods,” Ryolas said in a shaky voice as he dismounted. “Were you trying to kill me? A little warning would have been nice!”

  Lucyan snorted as Ryolas stumbled about the clearing on shaky legs. His skin was paler than usual, his eyes round with shock. Dumping the dead goat on the forest floor, he shook out his wings, then shifted back into human form.

  “How was I supposed to warn you?” he asked, pulling his clothes out of his pack. “I can’t speak, remember?”

  “There are other methods of communicating,” Ryolas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Perhaps we could develop some sort of signaling system.”

  Lucyan shrugged. “I suppose the idea is not without merit.” It could be useful when they were carrying Dareena. “Let’s table that discussion for later. I’m starving.”

  The two of them started a fire, then hung, skinned, and gutted the animal before placing it on a spit. Ryolas had brought some herbs, which he rubbed into the meat, and soon enough, a heavenly smell filled the clearing. Naturally, the scent drew some predators—a bear, a wildcat, and a few coyotes came around the clearing. Ryolas reached for his bow on all three occasions but had no call to use it. As soon as Lucyan met their stares, the animals turned tail and ran.

  It didn’t matter that he was in human form. They could all sense the dragon within him, now that it had been awakened. He was the superior predator, and they knew it.

  It took a few hours for the animal to cook, so Lucyan and Ryolas took turns watching it while the other napped. It was hard to sleep while hunger gnawed at him—all that flying had made him ravenous—so Lucyan was grateful when Ryolas finally called him over and told him the food was ready.

  “Mmm,” Lucyan said as he bit into the meat. “This is delicious. Those herbs you brought did the trick.”

  Ryolas smiled. “The blend is courtesy of Basilla,” he said. “She has loved cooking from an early age, even though it is beneath a lady of her station.”

  “Really?” Lucyan rose an eyebrow. “And the cook lets her?”

  Ryolas laughed. “When Basilla wants something, there is very little you can do to stand in her way. The cook eventually realized there was no getting rid of her as a child, so she set up a workstation for my sister when she was ten. Now that she is older and has other duties, she spends less time there, but she will still go every so often and help whip up a fresh batch of bread. Or at least, she did.” His eyes dimmed. “I’m not sure the warlocks will allow her the same liberties.”

  Lucyan felt a pang of sympathy for Ryolas. “She will be back in Elvenhame’s kitchen in no time,” he assured the elf, “and we will all sit around the table together and enjoy some of that bread you were talking about.” He pulled out a piece of bread from his pack and bit into it. It was tough beneath his teeth, already cold and a bit hard. What he wouldn’t give for some fresh bread now…

  “Do you think the warlocks could be listening to us, even now?” Ryolas asked, glancing around furtively. They’d moved out of the clearing and into the forest proper, finding a place where the ground was clear enough for them to camp while still being shaded by the trees, hoping that the canopy would shield them from prying eyes. “I wish I understood how their scrying spell worked. Can they actually see us, or can they only hear what we are saying?”

  Lucyan sighed. “It would be nice if we had some sort of device that could detect it,” he said around a mouthful of meat. “I doubt they are watching everybody all the time. That would require an extraordinary amount of manpower, not to mention magic.”

  “True.” Ryolas tore off a strip of meat with his teeth and chewed in silence, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you any ideas where they may be keeping Basilla?”

  “I can tell you she won’t be in the royal palace,” Lucyan said. “Warlocks are a prudish sort and love to gossip, so if they want to present her as queen later on, they’ll have to keep her secreted away. But Inkwall is a large city, and the crown owns many buildings, so it may not be easy to find her.”

  “That’s if she is even in the capital,” Ryolas said grimly. “They could have stashed her away in some countryside estate.” He sighed. “Normally I could trace Basilla with my magic, but all that metal will interfere with my powers. Even so, I could probably still locate her if we are close.”

  “That is a useful talent,” Lucyan said, perking up. He had no idea elves could do such things, but then again, he wasn’t very familiar with elven magic. “I’m familiar with her scent, so I’ll be able to detect her if she’s nearby as well. The trouble is pinning down her location, but hopefully we can ferret that out by asking the right questions of the right people.” Shadley’s man on the ground could help with that.

  “Do you think their god is helping them?” Ryolas asked. “If they have divine intervention on their side, that will make matters worse for us.”

  Lucyan pursed his lips, drawing up what he knew about Rumas, the warlock god, from the recesses of his mind. He was usually represented as a giant accompanied by a large, tusked boar that signified prosperity and guile. A fairly accurate representation of what the warlock people themselves were like.

  “From what I have read about Rumas, it is likely he would approve of the initiative the warlocks are taking,” Lucyan said. “However, the current monarch, Wulorian, killed the previous king to seize power, so there is always a chance that he is out of favor with their god.”

  “Or, Rumas could have tired of the previous monarch and given Wulorian his blessing to take him out,” Ryolas said darkly.

  Lucyan nodded. “I suppose we won’t know for certain until we arrive,” he said, “but the legends have always stated that the three gods are related, and that they created Terragaard together. When I spoke to the dragon god a few weeks ago, he did not seem to hold any enmity against his fellow deities. I wonder if the gods are merely reluctantly estranged and are hoping to repair the rift by settling this war once and for all.”

  Ryolas scoffed. “If they truly are gods, one would think they could sort out their family affairs without our help. I have enough problems to worry about without trying to solve theirs.”

  Lucyan smiled wryly. Once, he would have agreed with Ryolas wholeheartedly. But now that he’d stood in the presence of the dragon god, he was not sure it was as simple as all that.

  4

  The next morning, Alistair and Tariana flew out bright and early for the city of Glastar. They’d spent nearly the entire day discussing their plans for the strike forces, and today, they would visit the largest military base in the country to recruit soldiers.

  “I received a raven from Ara shortly before we left,” Tariana said as they flew. “She and Xenai will meet us at the base.”

  “Good.” They’d already decided yesterday that their sisters would lead the other two strike forces, while Alistair took command of the first. As the general of their armies, Tariana would not participate, but would help him select and train the soldiers, and she had the final say on which targets they would hit first.

  It only took an hour for them to arrive at the base, but Alistair was already starving. All this shifting and flying took energy. The base was on the outskirts of a large fir forest, an ideal location with plenty of game, which was used to feed th
e soldiers, and herds of pigs, goats, and sheep. They landed just outside the base, then shifted to human form and donned their clothes before approaching.

  The base commander, who must have seen them flying in, waited at the gates to greet them. He was a tall, brawny fellow by the name of Kastin Rommar, with a stellar reputation, though Alistair had never met the man before.

  “General.” He saluted Tariana, then bowed to Alistair. “Your Highness. It is an honor to have you both.”

  “At ease, Commander,” Tariana said. “It is good to see you again. Have my sisters arrived yet?”

  “No, but I imagine they will be here soon,” Commander Rommar said. “I’ve taken the liberty of having a late breakfast prepared for you. I imagine you’re both starving.”

  The commander led them to a private dining room, where a delicious spread of food waited, enough for several people. Alistair and Tariana dug in, and a few moments later, Xenai and Ara joined them. Of all their sisters, these two looked the most alike, with their long, curly black hair and tall, slim builds. Ara was a bit more buxom, and Xenai’s facial features a bit more exotic, but the two were close enough to almost be twins.

  “Glad to see you’re still alive, little brother,” Xenai said, clapping him on the shoulder as she took her seat beside him. “From what I heard, you went through quite an ordeal in Elvenhame.” She glanced at his arm. “All in working order, I hope?”

  Alistair’s elbow twinged at the reminder. “Yes, thank you,” he said, forking up a mouthful of eggs. “It was hell, living under that anti-dragon spell all that time. It seems like it happened an age ago.” He shook his head.

  “I’ve felt the effects of it myself,” Ara said sympathetically from across the table. “But I’ve never had to endure it as long as you did. I don’t know how you managed.”