Dragons Don't Love

by D'Elen McClain

  I’ve lowered my eyes to her heaving breasts and lift them when she stops speaking. Her eyes are a spectacular shade of light brown, almost golden. Her angular face enhances her high cheekbones. She’s actually not as beautiful as some of my past brides, but there’s something about her… something that sets her apart.

  “If you look at my breasts again, I will go back on my word and sever your head from your neck.”

  It’s all I can take. Today has been hell. I throw back my head and laugh. Smoke actually floats from my nostrils because I find her hilarious. My crazy bride.

  Her palms go flat on the table and I think she might attack me at any moment. “Are you quite finished?” she demands.

  She’s glorious in her anger and it only makes me laugh harder. She’s a pint-sized human nothing with a sharp blade and a sharper attitude. She jumps from the chair and draws her sword. She doesn’t have time to blink before I’ve removed it. Flipping it over, I test its weight on my palm.

  I look up as her chair crashes down on my head. Splintered wood flies across the room and a thin trail of blood mars her cheek. I ignore her attempt at bodily harm by chair. I’ve maintained my hold on the blade, flip it end over end, and catch it by the handle. “You are unlikely to kill me with this. I will have my manservant take you to the chamber of weapons so you may choose something finer with perfect balance.” My hand strikes downward and I bury the blade three inches into the wooden table. I’m satisfied when her hand goes to her throat. “I would suggest you take care of the cut on your face. My brides usually live a long life. Although… there was one about a thousand years ago who tripped and fell from the tower. I don’t recall her name.”

  Every name of every bride is imprinted on my soul but I will not tell her this. “Now run along and clean your face. When you return, we shall discuss fucking. It’s actually the only reason I’m here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Roxanne

  I’m standing in front of the mirror, washing my face, and fuming. He actually said fucking! I don’t care that his blue eyes are incredible. Or give me a mallet and I can play a tune on the muscles of his belly. The girth of his biceps is larger than my waist. And his face is more than pleasing. I may need to kill him just because he is too good and it’s hard to tear my eyes away from him.

  Fucking, really?!

  I broke a chair over his head and I’m the one with the wound. It’s because there is nothing inside his skull but rocks. No, that’s an insult to rocks. Worms, that’s better. They’ve eaten through the brains he might have been born with and passed them through their system as compost. Mushy… smelly… compost.

  I’m beyond furious. My virginity is a very sore subject. If we are the dragon’s chosen bride and it’s discovered we are not a virgin, the lives of our entire family are forfeited. Along with the lives of the man who took a bride’s virginity and his family too. No village male so much as ever looked at me. I’m twenty-one. Younger girls born outside the claiming years are already married and pregnant with their first child or second child. Not me.

  No one in the village even knows if the bride lives through the first night. The chosen bride is never heard from again. I could have died today. Died as a virgin. And the stupid blue dragon wants to discuss fucking.

  I will take him up on his offer of a better weapon. I need something to cleave his head in two. Right between the eyes. Maybe he’ll bleed blue. I can handle rolling in blue blood. I look at the bare walls and think about using blue blood to paint them.

  I suddenly jump when he pounds against the door. “I’m hungry, bride. My manservant is delivering dinner. You best hurry or I shall eat it all.”

  My stomach growls at the mention of food. I ate sometime yesterday and barely managed to keep it down. I planned to die today, so food was of no consequence. I throw open the door and march out. A tall man, dressed in some type of formal clothing, is placing a tray on the table. I no longer have a chair and from the looks of it, the dragon has no intention of being a gentleman. He scoops most of the food onto his plate before the other man turns to leave. I try to catch the servant’s eye with no success. He proceeds to cover the bed with new, singe-free bedding. When he’s done, he leaves without a word. Acasia told me there are other humans in the castle. We didn’t have time for her to explain where they come from. She said something about another realm.

  There are only a few scraps of food left for me. I quickly slide them onto the empty plate on my side of the table. The dragon scoots his chair out from the table and pats his knee with one hand. “Sit here since you destroyed your chair.”

  I look at his knee, turn my back, and walk over to the bed. When I start to sit down, I catch the grin on his face and the spark in his eyes. I don’t sit. I’ll just stand. Using my fingers, I pick up a strip of meat and place it between my lips. It’s mouthwatering and I sway at the incredible taste. I eat a little faster than normal because of my hunger. My food is gone quickly. I look at the dragon’s plate, which is still piled with food.

  A slight grin plays around his full lips. “I’ll share if you have a seat right here.” He pats his knee again.

  I turn my back.

  “Have it your way. You need to be quicker to the table from now on. I want you to keep your strength up.”

  I look over my shoulder. “Have no fear. I will be ready when we next eat. With added strength, it will be easier to end your worthless life.”

  His brows arch and he slowly draws his fingers to his lips and licks them clean. He lifts a long strip of meat from his plate and brings it toward the sharp side of my blade which is still embedded in the table. It cleanly cuts the meat. He looks at both pieces then gazes at me. “At least you know how to properly sharpen a blade.” He pops both pieces of meat into his mouth.

  I refuse to give him the satisfaction of stomping my foot. I really need another chair, or maybe a sledgehammer to hit him over the head with. I refuse to watch him finish his meal. I remain hungry, but there is no way I will sit on his lap. That is not where I want to be while we discuss… fucking.

  I don’t hear him approach and suddenly he grips me at the top of both arms. I jump and my first instinct is to pull away. His breath runs over my skin and his hands are no longer tight. They slide upward. On my left side, he moves my hair from my neck. I hate my hair. It’s constantly in the way. I have it down only because of the claiming and now I have nothing to tie it back with. The dragon’s warm breath hits the bare skin of my throat and my knees go weak.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  He breathes deep. I never showered. I’m pretty sure I don’t stink even though he said I did. His tongue flicks out and runs across my skin. A tight ball forms low in my belly. My eyes close and his body heat soaks into the entire backside of me. His mouth remains at my throat while his hands skim down my sides until his fingers clasp my hips. He pulls me sharply against him.

  Something hard hits my bottom. In my dreamy state it takes a moment to realize what it is. Not that I’ve ever seen or felt one. I’ve only heard it spoken of when people weren’t paying attention that I was there. The dragon’s whisper against my skin sends chills clear to my toes. “I think we should forgo the conversation and just get to the fucking.”

  What?

  Oh no. Hell no. I jerk away and turn while bringing my fist up and striking him directly in the nose. I shake my hand to dispel the shooting tingles of nerves while he brings his hand up and cups his hurt appendage.

  “Why in the hell did you do that?” he asks stuffily.

  There’s blood. Red blood. I watch as he lifts his hand away from his nose and stares at the evidence of my assault.

  “Your blood isn’t blue,” I say in consternation.

  It surprises me when he laughs. He walks to the table and uses a cloth from his meal to clean himself. His gaze remains steady on mine the entire time. He hasn’t said a word for a few minutes and I’m suddenly beyond nervous. He picks up the remaining chair and I clo
se my eyes expecting it to land on my head. I hear the legs of the chair settle against the floor and dare to peek. I watch him sit down on the mattress.

  “Come here and sit in the chair.”

  It’s a command. Everything in me rebels at the dictate but what choice do I truly have? I drag my feet closer. He tips his head to the chair when I take too long. I sit.

  His voice is soft, entirely too soft, and it makes his words more ominous. “You should not have struck me.”

  “I’m sorry?” I squeak. I really expected instant retaliation and his delayed response has my nerves completely unraveling. He should just have hit me over the head with the chair. I’ve struck him twice now and he’s yet to punish me… or kill me. Acasia told me the dragons never kill their brides. Chances are good that I might be the first to rewrite the dragon history books.

  His voice remains low. “Why did you hit me?”

  At this point, I truly can’t remember why. “Because you were there?” Again it’s more of a question and not the answer he seeks.

  His eyes drill into mine. “A bride has never hit me before.” Now I hear bewilderment in his tone. Just what does he expect?

  My entire life has been dedicated to one goal. I lift my shoulders and straighten my spine. My courage returns like the moons each night. He will do his worst. I cannot stop him. He won’t kill me and I feel heavy disappointment knowing I most likely won’t kill him either. “Do you insist on talking about umm… fucking with all your brides?”

  He appears startled at my question. “Nooo.” He drags out the word. “I usually just get on with it. I thought discussing it would make it easier for you.”

  I’m stunned that his skull is so dense he doesn’t seem to understand the problem. “And your brides react to your fucking them with calm control and just accept it?”

  He actually squirms a bit and his face goes red. His large hand comes up and his fingers thread through the hair that’s fallen across his cheek. “They cry. Well… actually, they wail and carry on. It’s quite irritating,” he says in exasperation.

  I need to move closer to the wall so I can hit my head against it. He’s half-witted. But he’s also unsure. I can hear it in his intonation. Acasia said male dragons are nothing more than spoiled little boys who want their way in all things. Even fucking. “So it doesn’t please you when they react that way?”

  “No, it’s quite messy and inconvenient.”

  How quickly can I stand up, lift the chair, and crash it over his head again? He glances to my fingers, which have tightened on the sides of the wooden seat. When his eyes meet mine, I think he reads my intent and he’s ready to pounce. I relax my hands and he settles again.

  Keeping my voice low and steady, I make myself quite clear. “If you fuck me, I will kill you.”

  The shock on his face is quite satisfying. Slowly, his puffy lips quirk and his voice thickens. “Well, that’s why you’re here, my bride. What else would I do with you?” I can think of a million things and none include what he wants. His blue eyes darken. “Talking is getting us nowhere. You can’t kill me, you’ve tried. Why do you fight the inevitable? I am a superior species.” He flexes his arm and gives me a heart-stopping grin.

  Yes, his muscles and smile have an effect on me, but I won’t allow it to keep me from teaching him the difference between right and wrong. All children need this lesson. I stare intently into his eyes so he thinks me serious. “With my dying breath, I will try to kill you whether I can or not. Is that what you want?”

  One second I’m in the chair and the next he’s leaning back on the bed and I’m on top of him. He moved so fast a short scream is all I manage. His hands hold me tight as he rolls. The bed is small and I’m worried we’ll fall. His face is inches from mine, his hair surrounds me when he has me where he wants me.

  “What if I say I won’t fuck you until you beg for it?” he breathes against my lips.

  Somehow this has turned into a game for him. The knot is back in my belly and my breasts, smashed against his chest, are tingling.

  “I do not beg, dragon.” He pushes my hair from my face, his fingers gently gliding across my cheek. The tingling travels from my belly to lower parts. I want to close my eyes but can’t.

  “Oh, believe me, you will beg,” he says huskily. He bypasses my lips and kisses my neck. A few seconds later, I feel the pinch of suction. It doesn’t hurt; it actually feels good. He smoothes my hair farther to the side and flips his hair over his shoulder in a practiced move. My bride’s gown is cut low in the front, and his warm lips travel down until he kisses the tops of my breasts. His body is heavy against my own and I can barely breathe. I can’t move and for some reason, I don’t want to. At the very top of my left breast he sucks hard on the skin and this time it hurts just a bit. Before I object, he’s up and standing next to the bed.

  His hand goes to the defined outline of his manhood and he pushes it around beneath the strange cloth covering his lower half. I’m completely breathless and fascinated. His blue eyes are darker than they were earlier. “When you look at where I’ve marked you, think about fucking.” He suddenly turns and leaves the room. I hear the bar lower across the door.

  I jump up and run to the bathing room. Two marks. One on my throat and one at the top of my breast. I run my fingers over them and my lower belly clenches.

  Damned dragon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Laryn

  She’s priceless.

  I should be angry that she thinks she will dictate about fucking, but I’m not. There is nothing better than a good game of shark and little fish. I know she’s a virgin. All the brides are virgins. She’s also afraid. Unlike my former brides, she hides it behind bravado. I like that. I like her.

  I’ve seduced brides many times. Once they settle, their frightened mouse persona fades and their true female nature shows. They become cross at some small transgression and I seduce them from their sour mood. I enjoy that game and I always win.

  It only makes it more thrilling this time because my new bride is different. She doesn’t wail and beg. She doesn’t use tears to dissuade me from my course. She uses a chair and even her small fist. She’s a warrior and this should be fun.

  What isn’t fun is the stiff burden of my cock. I head to my chambers and mentally send a message to my manservant. “Deliver a tray of fruit and cheese to my bride. Take care that she doesn’t kill you when you do.”

  I turn on the water of my shower, remove my jeans, and enter the large enclosure. The earth realm has many amenities that make life more pleasant in my realm. Stealing the designs for my luxurious shower is one of them. I run soap over myself and think of my bride and what she is doing at this moment. I picture her trailing her fingers over the marks I’ve left on her soft skin. Her scent is at the corner of my consciousness and I imagine my soapy hands are her sweet lips.

  The fantasy is over in minutes and I’m hard again within a few more. I waste no time returning to another fantasy. Her tight pussy surrounds my cock as I allow her to ride me. Her hair drapes over us and I buck up as she slams down. Her breasts sway above me and I can’t help closing my lips around one erect nipple.

  Hot sperm shoots into my hand and against the shower wall. A few long breaths later and she’s on her hands and knees as I drive into her from behind.

  After three ejaculations I’m tired and still disturbingly unsatisfied. I dry off and head to bed. I fall asleep with her sweet smell at the edge of my senses. Today had its ups and downs, but a new bride resides within my lair. What more could a dragon ask for other than having her real body to quench my desire and not a fantasy?

  ***

  My bride didn’t kill my manservant the night before, which is a positive mark in her favor. It took me years to train him. This morning, I notify him of the clothes I want made for her. My bride will wear no flowing dresses or skirts. I will clothe her as the warrior she is. She’s puny, but with practice, I can teach her to wield a sword properly. She’s self-t
rained, of that I have no doubt. It’s rare for the male villagers to teach their women more than simple domestic disciplines. They never train them to fight. I know Acasia went to something known as college. Her human family quite spoiled her. I roll my eyes because it made her no smarter except when it comes to cards. I’ve heard the stories of Acasia’s mathematical studies helping her win. We’ll see in two weeks.

  I’m curious of my bride’s history and thankful we have years to speak of such matters. It’s hard for the brides at first. Talk of their family makes them sad. That’s not in my plans. It’s her anger I’m after. She’s a sexy spitfire when she’s mad.

  I deliver our breakfast tray. I don’t particularly care for her tower room, but she must earn the right to enter my chambers. I make up the rules of our game as I go along and my bride earning rewards is a new one.

  I remove the bar and enter without knocking. She’s sleeping sideways on the bed with the covers tangled around her. Somehow she has managed to remove the sword from the wooden table. I slammed it deep enough that I know it had to be difficult to dislodge. I set the tray down where I’d buried the sword. For some reason, the clang of removing the bar from the door didn’t wake her, though the scrape of the tray does.

  She leaps to her feet somehow avoiding twisting herself within the covers and falling. She holds the sword held in front of her with two hands. The dark tresses of her hair are messy and stick up around her head. Her bride’s dress is all but shredded and barely hanging from one shoulder.

  She’s stunning.

  “Widen your legs and bend your knees,” I say as I take a bite of toast.

  “Wha…what?” she asks sleepily.

  “Your stance is wrong. With a flick of my finger, I can knock you off balance. If you plan to defend yourself, do it properly.” I take another bite. “Or you could put the sword down and come eat.”

  The door behind me opens and my manservant carries in another chair. I nod to the empty space. He quickly gathers the broken pieces of wood from the evening before and exits. She’s still standing there with sword raised when he leaves. Her arms quiver under the weight.