by Delta James
“Aye,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Which is why most she-wolves yield to the call of their fated mate.” Connor patted her backside. “If you think you can behave yourself, I’ll have a bath and proper clothing sent up for you. You’re to fold the breeches and shirt in a neat pile. One of our people will pick them up.”
He stopped speaking. Bridget sensed that he was waiting to see if she would move until given permission to do so.
“You can pull up the breeches, Bridget, and come out of the corner.”
She turned to face him.
“If I have to discipline you again for either leaving the keep without permission or aiding our mistress in disobeying her mate, you’ll feel my belt across your backside. Understood?”
Bridget dutifully lowered her eyes. “Yes, Beta.”
Connor left her and Bridget opted to enjoy a bath and a quiet night in her room alone. The next morning, she made use of the gown that had been provided for her. She had just finished her breakfast when she heard a commotion outside the manor house and word came that Ruari had returned with Arielle. Bridget rushed out accompanied by Sloan, the mistress of Ravenscar. Sloan had once been human and had served Arielle when she had lived at Calon Onest. Gareth, alpha of Ravenscar, had turned her when he claimed her as his mate. Ruari growled when they approached his mate too quickly and too closely.
“Who the hell do you think you are to growl at me in the courtyard of my home?” challenged Sloan.
Bridget knew Sloan’s reputation and admired her for it. She wished they lived closer as she felt they could become good friends if given the opportunity.
“He thinks, my beloved,” said Sloan’s mate, Gareth, “that he is the mate to a very naughty she-wolf and doesn’t need or want any interference on your or Bridget’s part. And while Bridget’s misbehavior is his to deal with... yours is mine. If you don’t apologize immediately, I will use a strap to remind you again of the deference you will show to an alpha wolf.”
Gareth did not raise his voice, and the arm he wrapped around Sloan’s waist was more loving than threatening, but the steel of command in his tone of voice was unmistakable.
Both Bridget and Sloan quieted immediately. Ruari dismounted and then lifted Arielle down.
“Sloan, do you have a gown you can let Arielle borrow for our trip home? Bridget, I’m glad to see you in more appropriate clothing. I trust Connor emphasized the importance of curtailing the level of foolishness you showed in accompanying and enabling my mate in her willful disobedience?”
Bridget took a deep breath and lowered her eyes.
“Yes, my alpha. He made both his and your feelings on the matter clear in no uncertain terms.”
Gareth chuckled. “Now that we have that settled... Sloan, why don’t you and Bridget take Arielle upstairs and help her into something more suitable.” Turning back to Ruari, he continued, “Will you be staying the night?”
Ruari shook his head. “As my men only suffered minor injuries, I would prefer to make the best of the daylight and begin the trek for home. I am even more newly mated than you and would like to be able to get home and take my mate into seclusion.”
“An excellent idea,” agreed Gareth.
Sloan and Bridget led Arielle into the manor house and up the stairs to a guest room.
“Shit, Ari, when did that bastard take you to mate?” hissed Sloan the moment they were alone with Bridget.
“The day you arrived. In fact, I’d just taken my vows...” said Arielle quietly.
Apparently, Arielle had kept Sloan, with whom she was close, in the dark regarding the circumstances around her becoming Ruari’s mate.
“Had them forced from you,” interrupted Bridget.
“He forced you?” asked Sloan. “Did he hurt you? I’ll have his guts for garters if he did.”
Bridget smiled. Yes, she would very much enjoy the opportunity of getting to know the mistress of Ravenscar better.
“No,” said Arielle quickly. “He called me to mate. We are fated. I refused him and challenged him to let me run. He did; it didn’t work out the way I thought it would.”
“How did you think it would turn out?” asked Bridget.
“I thought he’d head back to town or at least the coast. I wasn’t thinking he’d actually track me. So even though I went west, he caught me... not once, but twice. The second time, he marked and claimed me.”
“You mean after he got you back to your keep?” asked Sloan suspiciously.
Feeling in no mood to protect Ruari’s feelings or reputation, Bridget said, “Oh, no. He took her maidenhead and marked her on the ground. Granted, he didn’t do it as a wolf, but still...”
“Bridget, don’t make it out to be worse than it was,” shushed Arielle. “I challenged him; he won. He took what was his, but that night he more than made up for it. After all, I could have asked you to help me escape instead of helping me to ride to his side.”
Sloan grinned at her. “I always said you and Rowan were more alike than most people thought. And right then, you sounded just like her. That knot thing can go a long way to helping you decide perhaps being mated to them isn’t so bad.”
Bridget and Arielle looked at each other before looking back at Sloan and then starting to laugh.
“Although I could do without the whole getting my ass beat,” quipped Sloan.
“At least you and Arielle had someone to make up for the pain by pleasuring you afterwards,” said Bridget.
“True,” mused Sloan. “But what is it they find so compelling about using your bottom hole for pleasure? Any time Gareth wants to reinforce his dominance, I get my ass fucked.”
“The worst part is that I found pleasure in that as well. I climaxed for him and took great satisfaction when he emptied himself in me,” said Arielle quietly.
Bridget could see that Arielle feared she had said too much until both women laughed and agreed with her. The two women helped Arielle into a lovely gown that she was sure Ruari wouldn’t object to.
Bridget shook her head. “If they’re bastards, we’re sick bitches for loving them the way we do. Why did you head west? There’s nothing out there, except maybe mutants and monsters.”
“And shapeshifters,” said Sloan. “I’ve always heard that the last stronghold of the shapeshifters was there.”
The next two and a half days were spent making their way to the warship that would take them back to Dundalk. Ruari instructed his men, over Bridget’s protests, to seize the ship she and Arielle had used and to ensure that it was tied up at the main dock and guarded in such a way that neither Arielle nor Bridget could ever use it again without his permission. Once they had made landfall at Dundalk, Ruari left Connor in town to ensure that the guards at the harbor instituted more vigilant patrols to safeguard their people.
The group that had gone to the aid of those at Ravenscar and Calon Onest were greeted with a hero’s welcome as they entered the bailey of the castle. Bridget’s daughter ran to meet her mother and pestered her for tales of her adventure.
“See that you include the fact that both of you were punished for your misbehavior,” admonished Ruari as he helped Arielle off her horse while the captain of the guard did the same for Bridget.
Seamus, the omega to the pack at Dundalk, came out of the keep wagging his finger and clucking under his tongue at both women. “You’d both better behave yourselves and make sure the rest of the she-wolves at Dundalk know the price you paid for your recklessness.”
“Reckless she may have been, but it was your lady who killed Edwyn and saved my life,” admonished Ruari before leading his mate into the keep.
Chapter Two
After a celebration of their victorious return, Arielle and Ruari went into seclusion. Bridget spent her time with her daughter and the other members of her pack. She found herself in the evenings listening to the elders telling tales that had been passed down for millennia. While books recorded their history and stories, those at Dundalk had a l
ong history of wonderful Irish storytellers. They made the stories come alive and Bridget loved listening to them and asking the questions that their tales brought to mind as they fired her imagination. More and more she found herself listening to and asking questions about a time long ago when dragons had roamed the earth and how other shifters and humans had hunted them to extinction.
“Did they all die? If they’re immortal, how could they be killed?” she asked one evening.
“Under normal circumstances, they would live forever, but if they are pierced through the heart and then their heart is removed, they will cease to exist. They say a dragon’s heart is his weakness. In order to breed, and ensure the perpetuation of their species, they must give up their immortality. The other shifters feared the dragons...”
“Why? Were they cruel?”
“No more than any other species, but they were true shapeshifters. They could shift to any form of living being, as long as it had a heart. The hunters concentrated on the females and their pre-hatched eggs. Dragons are the most vulnerable before they’re born; remove the females and you lay waste to an entire species. Our kind faced a similar fate at one time.”
“But the male dragons were left behind; didn’t they have the ability to turn others?”
The storyteller nodded. “They did. But dragons are an arrogant species...”
“More arrogant than alpha male wolves?” quipped Bridget, drawing the soft laughter of others in close proximity.
The old wolf laughed. “Hard as it may be to believe, yes. Dragons are not keen on turning others. The cost to them is high. They can only turn what we call a fated mate, and they call their true heart, and to do so requires them to breed, which in turn costs them their immortality.”
“What happened to the last of them?” asked a voice among the crowd.
“The last four dragons are said to have taken refuge north of the Devil’s Dyke in hidden caves along the coast of Dunnet Head.”
“Has anyone seen them there?”
“No, they say the dragons found a concealed spot high along the cliffs, inaccessible to anyone other than their own kind.”
The old man lowered his voice, sensing the attention that was focused on him.
“There they gathered,” he continued, “bid farewell to each other and the world, and put themselves into a deep slumber.”
“Forever?” asked one of the younger wolves.
“The story is written that when the time is right for the dragons to wake, they will do so to come to the aid of those who remain.”
“But we wolves are the superior species and were responsible for making both Britannia and Eire safe. Mutants for all practical purposes have been dispatched and the other shifters and humans now live in peace,” said another.
“At least until one pack decides to make a power play with another,” reminded Bridget. “The northernmost point of Britannia? I always thought it was the most western coast of Eire. Isn’t it supposed to be the last stronghold of the shapeshifters? And didn’t that designation refer to dragons?”
The old man nodded. “Aye. But for the dragons it is the site of their greatest defeat and considered to be their most sacred place. There is supposed to be a cave along the coast where the last clutch of dragon eggs was hidden—Uaimh na Deora or Cave of Tears. The eggs had been gathered in one place to protect them, but the fifth dragon, the one left to guard them, was tricked out of the nursery and the eggs were laid to waste. She was the last of their females and was killed in battle before her heart was torn out and tossed into the cave with the remains of the eggs. Kellan, the great dragon of Eire and Lord of the Sea, destroyed the entrance to the cave, sealing their deepest sorrow away from the world... forever.”
“So, their females were considered equal and allowed to be warriors for their kind?” asked Bridget.
The storyteller caught Connor’s eye before speaking carefully. “I’m sure that in times of great need, their females had to fight in order to survive. But, as with any civilized species, they were usually kept out of the fray...”
“And had their backsides warmed when they chose to disobey,” finished Connor, much to the delight of those who were listening and making Bridget blush.
“Perhaps, had they been more willing to share power with their females, the dragons wouldn’t have become extinct,” Bridget responded, looking directly into Connor’s laughing eyes.
Connor grinned at her, acknowledging the barb, but choosing to ignore it.
“All right, the lot of you,” he said, “it’s late and I know there are many here who either need to get to their beds in order to sleep or keep themselves out of more trouble.”
The small crowd began to break up and disperse.
* * *
Gideon was home. When he first took to the skies, he soared high among the clouds, but as he got closer to home, he dropped low and skimmed over the ground. It was a risk, but after a thousand-year nap, it felt good to feel his strength and power returning. He flew out over the churning seas of his homeland. The ocean always felt so angry along the Cornish coast. Very much like Kellan, the dragonlord who had dominion over the seas.
As Gideon approached the deserted beach, he realized how out of practice he was in the art of landing gracefully. Learning to fly was instinctive in dragon shifters; landing, not so much. As his great clawed feet began to touch the ground, he ran as he folded his wings. It should have been a perfect landing, a wondrous thing to behold. Instead, he tripped with too much forward momentum and sent himself somersaulting along the beach and reverting to his human form.
Laughing at himself, he lay sprawled on his back in the warm sun, the last of the sea spray just barely reaching his naked chest. He heard the sound of someone approaching. Gideon sprang to his feet, recognizing his vulnerability as an unclothed human male, regardless of how powerfully built he was. Ready to shift at a moment’s notice, he turned.
“My lord, you have returned,” said a man in his middle years as he came to a stop and kneeled.
“You were expecting me?” Gideon asked, cautiously scanning the cove where he had landed.
“We did. A small group of us have kept the faith and waited for you. Your fortress is in a bit of disarray but can be restored to good order in little time,” the man replied, his head bowed.
“You’ve been waiting for me?”
“Yes, Milord. The stories of your existence and the foretelling of your return have been passed down through my family and those of the others for more than a thousand years. We live in dangerous times. The wolves hold power but still fight too much among themselves to recognize the great danger from the Old Continent. But I digress. You must be hungry and tired from your journey. I brought your clothing from the past and also what is more commonly worn by men in this age,” the man said, extending two individually wrapped packets of clothing.
“I think I’d be less conspicuous dressed as you are. I am Gideon, Lord of the Earth, rise and be recognized.”
Slowly the man stood and looked Gideon in the eye. “I am Cadan. My ancestors served as your war chief and second in command.”
Gideon felt the first pang of all that had been lost as he remembered taking flight from this place in a last desperate attempt to save their kind from extinction.
“You share the name of my last second. He was one of the bravest, fiercest warriors I ever knew, be they human or dragon.”
Gideon stepped forward, taking the clothing in his left hand and extending the right. Cadan relinquished the clothing and took the proffered hand in a strong, firm grip.
“My life to your heart,” Cadan swore solemnly.
Gideon returned the vow. “My heart to your life.”
Gideon turned and crossed to a small outcropping of rock, placing one bundle on it to sit and unwrapping the other. He quickly donned the leather breeches, silk shirt, and lightly armored jerkin before pulling on his boots.
“I suppose I should be surprised by the good fit, but if you
are the true descendant of the one who came before you, you will be well prepared.”
Cadan smiled. Gideon was glad to see his caution abating. “He left instructions for your return. They have been passed down eldest son to eldest son since you left us. My Demelza should have food prepared by the time we reach my croft. After you have eaten, we can head to your fortress. I will send for the others who have awaited your return.”
“You make it sound as though my return will be welcome.”
“Most welcome. We are isolated in this part of Cornwall, but the southern wolves are greedy, and we know they will turn their eye to our lands, which are rich in minerals and fertile fields. When they turn to us to try and bring us under their authority, they will find we are led by a mighty dragon.”
Gideon stood; it was the first time since the awakening that all the whys of his existence didn’t plague him. Why had his kind been hunted to the point of extinction? Why had they slumbered so long? Why had he been awakened? Why was he the only one who had risen... and would the others wake at some point in the future?
He fell in beside Cadan and headed for his farmhouse. As they entered the barnyard, a lovely blonde woman emerged from the house followed by two small, wide-eyed boys.
“My Lord Gideon. We are honored to have you here. There is food prepared and I can make more. I’ll take the children out to the barn, so they don’t disturb you,” she said politely.
Gideon smiled. “It has been a long time since I heard the sound of laughing children or shared a meal with anyone. Please come and join me. Demelza, isn’t it?”
She nodded and then looked to her husband, who smiled and nodded as well.
“I thought Papa was bringing home a dragon?” started the younger.
His mother shushed him.
“Your father did indeed bring home a dragon. That would be me. I can shift into my elemental form which is that of a great dragon or any other living thing with a heart.”
“Can you fly?” asked the older boy.