NAGO, His Mississippi Queen: 50 Loving States, Mississippi (The Brothers Nightwolf Trilogy, Book 1)

by Theodora Taylor

  But no matter how she felt about it, the release of heat drained Fensa. She didn’t have the strength to fight off the dragon anymore. Her body went soft and pliant beneath his, even as tears streamed down her face at the thought of being taken like this.

  She waited, eyes squeezed shut…only to open them again when the pressure on her neck suddenly eased up. No, not just eased up….

  She wondered what was happening as the dragon unhinged his jaw and took a step back, giving her space to turn around. Which she did—

  Only to be surprised by the sudden protraction of Dragon Man’s forked tongue. It swiped across the wound on her shoulder, right where he’d bitten her.

  The bite healed, just as her head wound had. Fensa touched the side of her neck and found it cauterized, if somewhat numb. Her brown eyes flew up to his red unblinking ones in question.

  But Dragon Man only hissed. No, wait, he wasn’t hissing. She watched closely as he began signing the way those other shifters had, to indicate the wall of tubing. He was trying to tell her something.

  Something she somehow understood. The wall. It contained drugs. Drugs that would put her out of her misery. Permanently, if she so wished.

  Oh God, Fensa thought as realization set in. He understood her situation even better than she did. When she-wolves went into heat, they didn’t just want to mate; they needed to mate. Getting pregnant became their primary imperative, with all other biological functions—like hunger, thirst, and pride—taking a big back seat.

  The consequences of a she-wolf not mating were dire, verging on fatal. The list of what could go wrong began with complete mental breakdown and ended with total heart failure. Before the heat control shot was created, she-wolves in heat had two choices: get fucked, or die from not getting fucked. Sometimes a she-wolf could be sedated if doctors reached her soon enough, but Fensa was so deep into her heat, she was already leaking arousal down her leg. There was no going back from this one.

  She cursed inwardly, then looked from the tubing to the dragon shifter in front of her. The one who’d killed every available shifter male she could have mated with.

  There was nothing else for it. If she wanted to live, she had to let him mate her. No matter how extreme their biological differences. But did she want to live that much?

  Fensa thought of Knud hanging from the belt in his room. Thought of her father, walking drunk into oncoming traffic after his fated mate left him. Not a suicide, but…

  What side did she fall on?

  As if in response, her body released yet another wave of pulsing heat scent.

  The dragon’s tongue flicked out, seeming to catch the scent the way her nose did. His entire body shuddered, his matched penis set swelling—how was this even possible—larger. Then he turned his red glowing stare back to Fensa in a very silent, but very intense question.

  And that’s how after spending years at the facility, Fensa Greenwolf came to find out in the most unbelievable way possible that she did want to live. Consequences be damned.

  Breath hitching, she turned and faced the wall. Trembling, but determined to endure. Head down like a sacrifice. A surrender. One she hoped the dragon could understand—

  He was at her back again, hot breath on her neck. She could feel, but not see, his jaw unhinge. Don’t cry, don’t cry, she begged her human as the points of his teeth grazed her neck.

  But this time the biting action didn’t happen quite so fast. Instead of chomping down viciously, his teeth sank into her soft flesh in an almost sensual claiming. Then a foot pressed into the front of her thigh. Large and…oh, God…webbed.

  Fensa breathed hard, short breaths, trying to keep her human from completely freaking the fuck out. However, neither her human nor her wolf fully realized what was happening. Not until one large leg bent at her hip and pressed down. The action effectively holding her in place with his webbed foot on her right side, while his teeth kept her trapped on her left side.

  He was mounting her.

  Mounting her like an animal.

  An animal that wasn’t a wolf. Or a human.

  There was no way she could stop herself from freaking out at this point. But she couldn’t move. He had her pinned so tightly to the ice wall, Fensa could only whimper as his hips dipped behind her, then came up in a sharp strike.

  Her eyes went wide with the shock. She’d expected many things to happen. But none of them did. Only one penis was inside her. Not two. And it wasn’t hard and cold like a dildo, but warm, verging on hot. Radiating inside her, like a cozy fire.

  She’d heard and read so many stories about the pain of hymen loss, but there was no pain. Just an overwhelming surge of relief, as if she’d been searching for something all her life and had finally found it. At that moment, the only thing she knew was hunger. A craven wolf’s hunger to keep this flesh inside her. To…

  Somewhere in the distance, someone made a pained sound.

  But it wasn’t her.

  She was the one stretched beyond belief around one of his two penises, but his sharp groan made it sound like he was the one being pushed past all his limits. Dragon Man once again unhinged his jaw, and the next thing she felt was his forehead on the back of her neck. His breath hit the skin between her shoulder blades in short, panicked bursts of steam. As if he was trying to get ahold of himself. As if he was as afraid of her as she was of him.

  “It’s okay,” she found herself saying, in a weird reversal of positions. “Just start moving. You can do it.”

  Suddenly she could move. With a strength she hadn’t possessed before, she made a few experimental circles, hoping maybe he’d…

  But in the end, she didn’t have to hope for shit. With his forehead at her neck and his foot in her thigh, his hips started rolling beneath hers. Fucking her impossibly slowly, as something lodged into the top of her wet slit. A finger?

  No, not a finger, she realized when the end of it pressed directly into her clit.

  Definitely not a finger. It was the other penis. Stimulating her pussy while the first penis stroked into her. So unnatural. So wrong. So—

  The orgasm shut down her mind without warning. Like a vintage computer suddenly switched off after a full system crash. Fensa lost all sense of time, her mind wiped of anything but pure pleasure for eons on end.

  And when she finally rebooted, it was to the sound of the dragon’s big body slapping frantically into hers. Moving faster as he made a new sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between an animal’s chuff, and a human sob.

  And then…a near boiling ocean of seed flooded her insides.

  Crash. Restart. Crash. Restart. It was a struggle to stay conscious because she couldn’t stop coming, couldn’t stop quaking around his dragon cock as he spilled wave after wave of his seed into her.

  Fensa desperately milked him, even though she knew, scientifically speaking, it was an impossible request. Her she-wolf was dumbly trying to get him to knot inside her, but her human knew dragons most likely didn’t work like that.

  Then…

  A voice inside her head: “It has worked. In truth, I did not believe it could. This seeding is the one outcome I did not expect.”

  “Me neither,” Fensa answered, pushing the words into his mind.

  Pause. “Did you…did you just speak in my mind?”

  “Yes, when wolves mate, that’s what we—”

  Her explanation cut off when something weird happened where they were joined. It felt to Fensa like the hood of the dragon’s cock suddenly exploded inside her…with dozens of soft spikes…soft spikes that rubbed against every inch of her vaginal walls. Rubbing, stimulating…

  And, okay, that was it for Fensa. Buh-bye, dignity.

  She screamed as another orgasm racked her body. And this time, there was no crash and reboot.

  Just crash.

  12

  The female anomaly never answered his question. Most likely because she had lost consciousness. Her almost-drakki body little more than limp dark flesh
inside his arms, despite her healed concussion. But even in this unconscious state, she continued to milk the penis he’d used to seed her. Curious…

  However, his other penis was not quite as interested in the female’s still clenching sex. It remained swollen in a painful way that he now realized must signal arousal. He could feel it at the front of her. Writhing, but unable to reach the other available hole because his first penis was embedded at an angle in the female’s vertical slit.

  MY fated mate, the non-seeding penis seemed to shriek on a drakkon’s caw, wanting little more than to also sow its long pent up seed inside this female.

  But how could this be? She was of an entirely different species. A far inferior species, at that, with barely enough IQ to hunt dumb beasts with rudimentary handmade weapons. Yet, here he was…

  Xenon knew not which was worse. That he’d just rutted an animal. Or that he wanted to do it again. With an intensity so fierce, he knew, protocol or none, he’d seed her once more as soon as she passed another round of heat. Because one thing was certain: lupin or not, he’d wanted her. To the point that she was now his mate. And when she next released her pheromones, he’d take her again.

  Fensa thought of nothing. Dreamt of nothing. Then woke alone on the red metal examination table. This time, she was covered in a heavy blanket, but there soon came the tug of tubes withdrawing. Pretty much erasing any comfort she might have taken from waking beneath a warm and cozy fake polar bear fur.

  When she sat up, lights came on, revealing the dragon. He was seated naked atop the pile of polar bear blankets, but at the edge farthest from the examination table. As far from her as he could get without leaving the room. And Fensa couldn’t help but notice, he’d gone back into reptile Ken doll mode.

  His gaze was trained on her, and nothing but her. Giving the impression he’d done nothing but sit there and stare at her all night. Or was it all day?

  “What time is it, anyway?” she asked, pushing the thought into his head without even thinking about it. Growing up with parents who spoke two different languages, she’d seen them use their mental mate bond frequently before the divorce. It didn’t even occur to her not to use the one she shared with the dragon as soon as she had access to it.

  But the dragon appeared to recoil as if he’d been invaded. In a way, she supposed he had.

  “Sorry for intruding,” she said into his head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I am not upset,” a dark, resonant voice replied in return. “But how is it possible I can hear your words in this fashion?”

  “Um, well it’s like an ESP thing wolves can do once they’ve formed a mate bond—kind of like talking mind to mind without speaking words aloud.”

  “Drakkon have a similar link with their mates, as well,” the resonant voice replied. “However, I understood your language not before you spoke into my mind. How is it you have come to speak my language now? Or understand me as you did not appear to understand the Far Travelers?”

  “Oh, this happened to my parents…and my grandparents, for that matter,” she said, finally understanding his real question. “I guess the mate bond…it doesn’t just let you speak mind to mind, it also acts as a translator, too. It doesn’t work like that where you come from?”

  “No,” the deep voice answered, heavy with disquiet. “There is no need for this as we all speak the same tongue.”

  An awkward pause. Then Fensa felt compelled to ask, “So, ah, where exactly do you come from?”

  “That is classified,” he answered, so quickly, his response seemed to slap her like a sudden gust of icy wind in the otherwise warm room.

  “Is everything about you classified?” she asked carefully. “Because I have so many questions.”

  He tipped his head in that way of his, the one that put her in mind of a king cobra. “You have…questions.”

  “Yes, questions. Of course, I have questions! Who wouldn’t in a situation like this?”

  Another snakelike shift of his large head. “This is another surprise. I was not expecting questions. Most of your kind, as our sociology team has observed, draw their own conclusions without asking for more information.”

  She grimaced, thinking of some of the less introspective wolves in her Detroit pack. Having been little more than an incredibly rich, but incredibly unsophisticated motorcycle gang since the latter half of the previous century, they tended not to ask a lot of questions. A few even wore “Shoot First” patches on their leather jackets.

  “You are not like the other lupinhominids in Far Travelers Group 7.”

  “You mean the Post-Apocalyptic Bunch outside? No, not at all. Are you—did you guys do this to us?”

  “I do not understand your question.”

  “What happened to those shifters? Like, I’ve heard of some pretty primitive Inuit tribes up in Alaska. But those guys stripped me naked. And handed me over to you. Like a sacrifice. Why?”

  “It is because they believe me a god and wished to curry favor,” the dragon shifter answered. “You do not believe me to be a god, Female 7-133?”

  Fensa blinked, too stunned by the question to answer right away. Of course, her answer was no, but then their mating came back to her. So intense. Unlike anything she’d ever heard described.

  “Are you a god?” she asked the dragon carefully.

  A beat passed as if he were running the question through a protocol filter. Then he answered, “No.”

  So. Many. Questions.

  She opened her mouth to ask another but was rudely interrupted by the scent of her arousal filling the air.

  “You are in a state of arousal again,” he said.

  Then his eyes lifted to the wall above her head in a way that made her curious. And when she followed his gaze, she gasped at what she saw there.

  That strange glowing runic Korean script from before was scrolling across the blue wall above the tubing holes.

  “What is that?” she asked, trying to ignore her incoming heat.

  “Your medical statistics,” he replied, in a tone that made it seem as if the answer to her question was obvious. “How else could I have known you had once again entered a state of mating fever?”

  “So you can’t smell it? My heat?”

  Another crook of his head, then the voice inside her mind replied, “I keep forgetting your species carry scent receptors inside your nostrils. Ours does not.”

  “Then how do you smell?”

  As if in answer, his fork tongue flicked out. “All our olfactory receptors are located on our tongues.”

  Oh. Then a bigger, OH!!! hit Fensa when she realized, “That first day. When you licked me down there? That was why…” Her eyes dropped to the blue floor in embarrassment. “You were trying to, what? Smell me? Is that the way you conduct examinations…where you’re from?”

  “Yes…but it is a very rudimentary method. One we only apply if we don’t have the correct tool at our dispos—”

  His words suddenly cut out inside her head. And Fensa finished for him, “Disposal. But why wouldn’t you just get a tool?”

  No answer came.

  And when she looked up, she found the dragon crumpled over in pain.

  13

  The world went black. His biological shell’s response to his body’s distress. A call to pass out or stop struggling against the basic instinct to descend his male works.

  It was the hardest fight he’d ever waged inside himself. Much worse than the urge to evacuate his bladder, which had overtaken him once or twice while his father delivered long speeches at court.

  However, that pain had been minor in comparison to this. Almost unbearable for the hours she’d slept. As it turned out, continuing their conversation upon discovering she was once again in heat soon proved too much.

  He doubled over in pain.

  “Dragon! What’s wrong!” he heard in the darkness.

  Footsteps approached. Then came the feel of her hand on his skin. “No, don’t speak to me. Don’t
touch me—”

  But it was too late. In the next moment, his male works descended, mutinous and insistent.

  The female’s soothing hand instantly retracted. But after that, the pain of holding himself inside his scales began to ebb. His muscles unseized, and the ability to open his eyes was soon restored. Yet, the physical pain was replaced with another kind when he saw the color of Female 7-133’s flame. Dark red with an orange strip upon her heart and throat. Horror.

  He horrified her. And as they both watched his second penis twitch and writhe, while the first penis once again swelled with the demand to seed, he felt his flame blacken with deep shame.

  He thought she might scream and run. The fight or flight instinct within this species was near on par with an animal’s. Just one of the many reasons the Royal Overlord continued to refer to them as “upright primates” in his State of the Mission team reports.

  But then she asked, “You were holding that up inside you the whole time we were talking?!” The words appeared inside his head, saturated in what sounded like shock and distress.

  “I did not wish to scare you with my need. Or hurt you while you slept. For this reason, I forcibly rescinded my male works.”

  “Okay…” she answered after a very long silence. “But…that looks super painful. Why didn’t you just rub one out?”

  “Rub one out?”

  “You know, masturbate.”

  “I have no idea of what you speak.”

  “Um…okay…here’s a trick my papa used with Mom when his English was too taxed.”

  He understood little of that statement. Before he could ask, however, a sudden image invaded his mind. So powerful, it felt like watching one of the videos the other team members often sent along with their reports. But this particular video featured him. On the polar bear rugs and…his flame flickered with confusion as he watched himself move both hands up and down both rods of his male works.