Dragonlord: A Dark Shifter Romance

by Delta James

  Bridget turned her horse away and spurred him into a gallop. She meant to put some distance between herself and whoever it was who sat watching. Perhaps the figure meant her no harm or wasn’t even after her, but Bridget had no intention of waiting around to find out. The powerful animal beneath her responded to her commands and was soon barreling along the path above the sea. He, too, seemed to sense that there was a need to distance themselves from the stranger. She glanced back over her shoulder and was relieved to see the figure still standing atop the hill.

  After putting a considerable distance between herself and whoever it was that she had seen, Bridget slowed her horse to an easy trot and continued on her way. Spying a path down to the sand along the coastline, she made her way down and continued south. She was certain that she should be able to locate the ruins of the abandoned cliff village more easily from the beach looking up than from the top of the bluff looking down.

  Bridget had been fascinated by the stories of the abandoned human village in and amongst the cliffs along the western shore of Ireland for most of her life. When she had heard the ancient tales of an all-female pack in the Americas her imagination had taken flight. As she matured, she had given up such flights of fancy to focus on more practical matters. At first, it had been finding a suitable mate to build a life and take over her father’s fishing boat. And then the alpha of Dundalk had come calling and claimed her for himself. Her life had then been consumed with becoming the mistress of Dundalk and mother to her child. With her mate dead, she wanted to write a different ending to her story.

  It had not been dreams of her mate that had filled her dreams last night. Instead, it had been the encounter with Gideon. The memories of her time spent with him seemed to permeate every fiber of her being, quickly eclipsing those of the time she had spent with her mate. She thought she might feel some remorse in not clinging to those years she had spent as mistress of Dundalk, but she didn’t. For as much as she had loved him, a very small part of her had always remained aloof, never quite accepting that she had no other destiny than that of being called to him.

  Bridget took a break at midday, finding a place to dismount and loosening her horse’s saddle and giving him a reprieve. After staking him out, she went to see if she could find any shellfish to have for her supper. She located several crabs and caught them, taking them back to where she had left her horse. Digging a shallow pit, packing the sand and using driftwood to make a small fire, she prepared the crab and let it cook. She had just finished her meal and was preparing to break camp and leave when she stubbed the toe of her boot on something firm, lodged in the sand.

  Bending down to retrieve it, Bridget picked it up and let out a small gasp—the object in her hand was round and metallic. As she examined it, she was certain it was the remnants of some kind of dish. She was fairly certain that it was the kind of dish used to serve food. Dropping to her knees, she began to sift through the sand. Her excitement grew as she found more and more artifacts. Bridget was so engrossed in her discovery that she failed to hear the men gathering around her until her horse’s fretful snorting and pawing at the ground alerted her that there was an issue.

  “Well, well,” drawled a broad man of medium height with light-colored hair. “What do we have here?”

  Bridget made a sweeping glance around her and found she was surrounded by a small group of similar men. She sniffed the air and realized they were human. They weren’t overly tall and looked a bit underdone. There was hunger in their eyes, partly she suspected for food and partly for something else—her; not her specifically, but any unguarded female. She regarded their clothing, tattered remains of what might have been military uniforms.

  She was not a small woman; rising regally to her full height, she lifted her chin and spoke slowly, quietly and with a growl backing her voice. “I am Bridget of Dundalk. How dare you interrupt me.”

  The men whistled and catcalled. Clearly, they were not impressed.

  “And what would someone of any importance from Dundalk be doing here?” chided the one she supposed passed as their leader.

  “That would not be your concern, but as you have heard of Dundalk, you will know that the alpha there takes a dim view of anyone harming one of his people.”

  The man nodded. “I know of Ruari of Dundalk and his brother before him,” the man said as he spat on the ground. “Wolf-shifters who claim the best for themselves and leave human men nothing but their leftovers... from food to women.”

  The other men around her shifted their weight from foot to foot uncomfortably but murmured their agreement.

  “If you believe that, then you know nothing of either wolf. Humans and wolves have lived in peace, cooperation, and equality since as far back as anyone can remember. My own father, who has a fishing boat, has deckhands of both who serve him well and share in the spoils of what he takes from the sea. Why are you bothering me?”

  “We smelled the campfire,” said one of the men.

  “And the food,” said another as they tightened the circle around her like a noose around her neck.

  “I’m sorry; I finished my meal and only prepared what I needed,” Bridget said graciously, hoping she hid the growing concern in her voice.

  The leader reached out and twirled a tendril of her hair between his grimy fingers. “Perhaps the tasty morsel that’s left has nothing to do with food. They say she-wolves are a passionate, wanton lot. Maybe we should find out if that’s true.” He fisted a small handful of hair. “God knows my cold, hard cock could use a warm spot to spend a few hours...”

  Realizing she was going to have to fight, Bridget said, “Hours? My guess is if you could get it up at all, it wouldn’t be for more than a few minutes,” she said, knocking his hand away.

  The man snarled as his men sniggered. His moment of inattention would cost him. Bridget called forth her wolf; she would make short work of them in that form. She felt the familiar tingle as her wolf readied to spring forth, but nothing happened. Bridget was stunned. She had been able to shift since she was a small child. Once, she had even shifted mid-leap over a large fallen log. She called to her wolf again, and again, there was no response.

  The man grabbed her by the hair again and lifted his hand as if to strike her. In the instant just before his hand could make its downward trajectory, a blazing flame incinerated it, the man screamed, and, overhead, a dragon roared. Apparently the dragon fire had cauterized the wound as she could see no blood. The men, who had previously encircled her, were backing away in hopes that the dragon would take either their leader or Bridget.

  Bridget was stunned by its appearance. It wasn’t the grotesque creature she had always imagined, but rather an enormous beast with wings that appeared to be made of gossamer that somehow floated directly above her. It made an earth-shattering sound and the ground shook, much as it had earlier in the day but with more force. She watched, as if in slow motion, as one of the hind legs stretched out, plucking her neatly and gently from the ground. It banked right, scorching the sand before snatching her terrified horse in its other hind claw and beat its wings, creating uplift and taking them to a spot up above the sea cliff.

  It was as if her mind had separated from her body and was observing the whole incident dispassionately. She thought she should be terrified, and yet she wasn’t. She felt the wind rushing by her, not only as the dragon made its way to wherever it was taking her, but from the beating of the wings themselves. The dragon reached another knoll where the pale stallion she had seen earlier was quietly waiting. It watched as the dragon deposited both her and her horse softly on the ground. Bridget had the presence of mind to quickly grasp her horse’s reins to keep it from bolting and watched as the dragon set down a short distance away. She watched in utter fascination as the great creature morphed from dragon to man. And not just any man... Gideon.

  He stood and turned toward her. Tall, powerful, nude, and a dragon-shifter. Bridget felt completely out of her depth and for the first time fearful. Wolf-sh
ifters and dragon-shifters had always been adversaries. It was said that the wolves had been the predominant hunters of the dragons and the two were mortal enemies.

  Never one to panic, Bridget tried for the third time that day to call forth her wolf. She could feel her beast lurking in her mind, but just beyond the veil of consciousness. She took a moment to recognize that each time she tried to call her forth, her inner wolf seemed to recede just a bit more. Bridget had never felt more vulnerable in her life. She was alone on top of a cliff with a dragon-shifter and had neither weapon nor wolf to fight him with.

  “You’re a dragon,” she accused.

  “You have an excellent grasp of the obvious, my beloved.”

  “Your what?” she demanded.

  Gideon smiled. “My beloved... my true heart... my fated mate if you will.”

  “No! I won’t have it. I am not anyone’s fated mate and sure as hell not some overgrown lizard’s!”

  He surprised her by chuckling. “I fear as with your kind’s fated mate, my species’ true heart is not something one chooses. One is simply given that gift and it is best to accept it graciously and with an open mind.”

  “My father forced me into a pairing not of my choosing; I am no longer mistress of Dundalk but rather mistress of my own fate.”

  “Your fate having been to be raped and killed by those men down there until I intervened. It would seem, my beloved, that having usurped your fate, it is now mine to do with as I will. And you will be my true heart... my mate and shall bear me many children.”

  “I’ll do no such thing...” she growled, but with a growl that sounded nothing like the voice she had always had.

  “You will. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  “Who? What? No,” she said, confused. “You burned that man’s hand completely off.”

  “I did,” Gideon said, nodding. “No man will put his hand on my mate and keep that hand. You will find, meurgerys, that dragons are far more protective of their drakaina than wolves have ever been.”

  “By protective you mean possessive. In other words, if I were to agree to this, which I would not, I could expect even less freedom than I have as a she-wolf.”

  “On the contrary, dragons are exceedingly difficult to kill, and I would never deny you the freedom of the skies...”

  “Wolves can’t fly.”

  “But you are no longer wolf.”

  “No! I am she-wolf born; you cannot have taken that from me.”

  “I cannot change the circumstances of your birth any more than I can change anything about my past, but you are, as I suspect you already know, no longer wolf. You are mate to a dragonlord, and your body has already begun to shift to accept what you are meant to be... a dragon and my mate.”

  “You can’t just have corrupted my being to make me like you!” she accused.

  “I think corrupted is a bit harsh, but my ridge knew it was in the presence of my true heart and so began to initiate the changes necessary for us to mate and produce offspring.”

  “You mean that thing that untwisted off your cock and went up my bottom hole?”

  Gideon nodded again. “Yes, it is an integral part of our breeding process.”

  “You’re trying to breed me? You sonofabitch! Who the fuck do you think you are?” she railed at him.

  “I think I am your mate and master and will see you conquered and bred.”

  “The hell you will. I’m not having it, Gideon! Do you hear me? Undo whatever it is you have done!”

  “That I cannot and will not do. If you weren’t my true heart, the ridge would never have disengaged from my cock to do its work. You are now dragon and it’s best if you accept that,” he commanded in a deceptively quiet voice.

  Bridget reached for the sword still nestled in the scabbard on her horse’s saddle.

  “Don’t you get any closer to me. You didn’t ask me what I wanted. You didn’t have my consent to change me. I am tired of males of any kind making decisions about me and not giving a damn about what I may think of their grand plans!” she snarled, brandishing the sword.

  “Put the sword down, Bridget. I will take into consideration that you feel I have usurped your voice in deciding your future, but you will not threaten me with a weapon.”

  “What’s the matter, old scaly one? Afraid I might cut your heart out?”

  Gideon snorted a short burst of fire, which ignited the top half of the sword. Bridget dropped it and jumped back.

  “Cutting out your mate’s heart is no joking matter,” he admonished.

  “What makes you think I was joking?”

  “You had best hope I think you were joking. A drakaina who actually threatens her lord and master will find herself on the receiving end of a welting.”

  “What the fuck is drakaina?” Bridget said, somewhat distracted not only by the sound of his voice, but the way the butterflies in her belly and below began to flutter in response to the authoritative tone.

  “It is the term for a female dragon, which, meurgerys, you are.”

  “I’m not! And why do you keep calling me muir... muir... whatever it is.”

  “Meurgerys. It means beloved in Cornish. You do know Tintagel, our home, is in Cornwall, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I know where Tintagel is, but my home is not in Cornwall. It’s in...”

  “Dundalk? Doubtful. If you meant to return to Dundalk to stay, you would never have left it. Where were you going?”

  “It’s none of your business where I plan to make my home. You won’t be welcome there. I thank you for your assistance earlier, but you can leave now, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Your way is with me. Cease this childish prattle, let me make a soft place for us to lie, and I will remind you of the delights of being mate to a dragon,” he said, extending his hand.

  It was only now that Bridget allowed her eyes to leave his and observe his posture and body. He was, as her mother used to say, a fine figure of a man. He was tall and powerfully built. As he walked toward her, beckoning her with his fingers, she focused instead on his well-sculpted abs, including the way they seemed to point directly to his engorged cock. She thought its every detail would be forever etched in her memory—especially the ridge that twisted its length. The thing he said that had robbed her of who she was and put a monster in its place.

  Bridget backed away in what she hoped was at least a pale imitation of maidenly fear. She felt her horse and the pommel bag hanging from her horse’s saddle and quickly withdrew her knife.

  “Go away!” she hissed. “I won’t ask you again.”

  Gideon ceased moving. She was captivated as she observed his eyes change from their ice blue human ones to ones of the same color with an elongated shape and pupils in the shape of diamonds.

  “I do not believe you are asking me now.”

  “You’re right, I am telling you. Get away from me!”

  Bridget felt the earth begin to tremble, before she heard the distinctive rumble inside her head.

  Gideon moved, had her in hand and unarmed before her brain could even register that he had moved. He bent her over the top of his hard thigh, his cock pounding beneath her before stripping down her breeches to bare her bottom. His hand connected with her behind before she could even formulate the realization that an angry, naked dragon-shifter had her pinned in place and was apparently going to spank her.

  He walloped her rump, causing her to cry out. Gideon laid into her. This was, by far, the worst spanking she’d ever had inflicted. She danced against him trying to avoid the blows, but the man had an uncanny sense of where she would try to move before she did so. His hand rained fire all across her backside. The harder she struggled, the harder his hand fell and the more aroused she became. Bridget began to fear she would start dripping her need all over his leg.

  “Stop it! Damn it, Gideon, that hurts!”

  “I warned you about wielding a weapon in my presence. That includes a puny knife. I would have thought an alpha wolf
would have schooled his mate better,” he scolded as he peppered her derriere.

  His hand continued to inflict a level of heat, pain, and desire she had never felt before. All thoughts of trying to thwart him by not dissolving into tears were quickly dispelled. Bridget was sobbing and now her squirming was as much to try to negate her need to feel his strength and power inside her as it was to evade his hammering blows.

  As quickly as he began, he trapped her close to his body, his hard cock pressing up against her. Deftly, his finger traced down her spine to the crevice between her ass cheeks, stopping to seductively rim her dark entrance and purring when she shivered in response. His hand continued to gently trace down between her legs until he found her wet sheath awaiting his touch. Bridget tried to wriggle away from him. He quickly reached forward, found her swollen nub, and gave it a hard pinch. She yowled.

  “You do not evade my touch,” he rumbled.

  As before, she felt as much as heard him. Her legs trembled and threatened to give way. She was quite certain that had he not held her so closely, she would have puddled in a heap of wanton need at his feet. The deep thrumming felt like wildfire running through her veins. She moaned as be brought his hand back up to softly stroke her feminine folds. Bridget tried catching her breath to make it still, but all she managed to do was keep from panting. She knew she should continue to fight him if she was ever going to be able to say she wanted no part of Gideon or the fate he had planned for her. Yet, a part of her wanted to embrace all his touch seemed to promise. She wanted to yield to him but knew that with Gideon it would be the whole of her being... there would be no holding back; no way to deny him anything.