by Ophelia Bell
“If I made love to you, I would only be picturing her. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But there is something you can do for me.”
“I only wish to please you.”
“Please yourself, Priya,” he said, gripping her hand and lowering it between her thighs. Her wet heat brushed his fingers as he placed her hand over her mound. She inhaled sharply, her other hand shooting up to grip his shoulder for support when he pushed her fingertips against her clitoris and rubbed in a tight circle.
“Y-yes, I can do that,” she said, taking over the movements causing her aura to swell with sweet energy the color of the sunrise.
“That’s right, little one,” he said, brushing his lips over her cheek and sliding his hands up her sides to cup her breasts and toy with them while she pleasured herself. Within moments she was at the brink, and his soft urging to give her Nirvana to him sent her over.
The welcome flood of power sank into him, but was only a small measure of what he needed to last until the next year’s offering. His rigid cock begged for more, but the rogue appendage didn’t know she wasn’t the woman he really wanted. He could draw more orgasms from her now if he chose, except she already looked exhausted after the evening spent terrified of being eaten by him.
He pulled her into his lap and held her in her sated, lethargic state. After a few moments, she let out a little sigh. “It might be better if you’d eaten me,” she lamented.
“Why?” he asked, suppressing a laugh. “I will use my tongue on you, if you wish. I just wanted the pleasure of watching you satisfy yourself.”
“Because they all believed I was meant to be the high priestess after my mother died. Now they think I’ve displeased you and that only my life will return your favor to the village.”
“We’ll have to figure out a way to change their minds. You are the daughter of the first female to share her Nirvana with me since I arrived here. You should be my priestess, but to truly become one, I must bond you to me. It will be like a mate’s bond, but different, and your people will know you are worthy when they see you return to them.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Kneel for me once more,” he said. She slipped off his lap and shuffled to face him on her knees. Her gaze traveled up his body as he stood in front of her. He mentally prepared himself for the gift he’d decided he owed this lovely woman. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had an uncanny resemblance to the woman he loved. She’d overcome her fear of him the same way her mother had, and offered herself unconditionally. The woman was prepared to be food for him, if he’d chosen to take her that way.
Dragons had been bonding humans to them for ages. Entire families existed with magically enchanted bloodlines that compelled them to loyalty and secrecy. He couldn’t help but wonder if what he was about to do would be the beginning of it or just a perpetuation of the practice. But it always started somewhere, and it always started with blood.
He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the irony. He should have refused to share his blood the first time it was asked of him. At the time, he’d allowed his blood to spill out of love. Ultimately, he’d lost that love.
Now it was both for love as well as a sense of duty to this woman and all she’d offered. And perhaps a way to serve as a beacon to the only man out there who had any hope of finding him and bringing him home.
“You must take my essence first. My Nirvana. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect. She reached for him and he took a step toward her, his cock already stiffening before she’d ventured a caress along his length. From this angle, she could have been Vrishti. The full lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock could have been his lovely, innocent ursa mate’s. The more he pictured her on her knees, the more this other female transformed in his mind, and the harder his cock became until he ached with need to be deeper. He gripped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her thick hair.
“Vrishti …” he murmured, letting his eyes flutter closed as she engulfed him in her warm, wet mouth, her tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft.
To her credit, Priya only murmured in approval around him, gripping his base as she sucked him deep.
He lost himself to the pleasure for several moments, simply giving into the fantasy that Vrishti was really here, that this beautiful, generous worshipper was the mate Fate had sent him. It took considerable effort to pull himself back from the brink of complete denial. The orgasm rose nearly to the breaking point when he opened his eyes and concentrated, staving off the sudden rush of climax for a moment longer so he could complete the second half of the task.
While she was occupied with her mouth around his cock, diligently sucking him, he manifested a single sharp talon from one finger, breathed a lick of bright white flame over the point, then made a slice with it across the center of his opposite palm. Blood welled red and he held it over his shaft, holding back the flow until the moment when she pulled back and her lips were wrapped around his swollen head.
Then he squeezed a single droplet that fell and landed on the top of his cock to be consumed by her on the next downstroke. On the next upstroke, he let go of his control and rejoiced with a sonorous roar as his semen erupted into her mouth. She kept hold of him as he spilled his Nirvana into her, gazing up at him with reverence and swallowing every drop.
The moment the bond was sealed, he knew, because her eyes flashed with silver light behind the rich brown of her irises, and the color lightened instantly, becoming a silver that matched his own eyes with only a limbal ring of her original color left behind.
Her lips slipped off his cock with a soft pop and she let out a gasp of surprise. “I can feel the bond. It’s like a second heartbeat in my chest.”
“Your bloodline belongs to me now, Priya. You and all your children are under my protection. And your children’s children.” He bent down, kneeling to face her once more and taking her hand in his. “But to ensure your people accept that you are my priestess, I need to give you something to show them.”
They would see her eyes and likely believe based on that alone, but the color often didn’t persist through generations without a renewal of the bond. The talismans were therefore a requirement.
Cupping her hand in his, he opened it to reveal her empty palm. He lifted his cut hand up and held it over hers, squeezing again until a slow trickle of blood fell, filling the lines in her skin. When there was enough for his needs, he halted the flow. Then he exhaled a breath of pure white smoke, directing the potent magic to the blood. The two mixed—breath and blood combining into a palm-sized medallion of pure white stone marbled with pink veins. Before the tendrils of breath faded, a snakelike figure of a dragon appeared like an “S” on the surface.
“This is your proof, Priya. Proof that you are the chosen one. You and your line will serve me first. You may recruit other acolytes and you may perform additional rituals at the seasons’ shift for further boons to be granted to your people, but your line will be the only messengers I will communicate with. When you have your first child, take a hammer and split this talisman into two. The pieces will each become one whole talisman and will be the sign of your family’s bond to me and my own line. My line will know yours by the talisman and the bond.”
He sent her away into the gray dawn, admiring the strength and purpose she carried with her now, so similar to the determination he’d seen in his own Fated female when she’d last said farewell to him.
* * *
The years that followed were spent painstakingly carving away the interior of the mountain with claws and teeth. Sometimes he would spend months lost to his task, not even aware of the passage of time until the gradual dissipation of power reached his mind and he found himself craving blood more than conversation.
He would creep out of his cave and was always rewarded by th
e gifts he found. For a week at a time during each solstice and equinox, he received a series of offerings of first food, then eager acolytes ready and willing to perform their rituals while he looked on and took the power he needed. Within each group there was always at least one member who wore a talisman and had glowing silver eyes.
He never showed himself in his human form to them again. Eventually the temple’s completion grew closer and he’d lost track of the years he’d spent. Generations had passed and the population of humans on the island increased, each seasons’ rituals attended by more people until he knew it was time to fade back into mythos. The temple was as exquisite a creation as any he’d ever built, every detail as true to his memory of the creation as he could make it, even realizing that he had made it to begin with.
He was about to collapse the cave and let the worshipers continue with the power of their ideas to carry them into the quickly evolving future when he thought of one last task to complete before considering the temple finished once and for all.
He crawled out of his cave on weary legs, blinking up into the bright sunlight. A well-worn path now led up to the mouth of the cave, twisted vine railings bordering it to ease the climb of pilgrims seeking to come pray to him. Half a mile down the mountain there was now a larger structure where the old altar once stood. A hermitage where the priests and priestesses and acolytes lived.
Priya’s bloodline still led them, loyal to his message and his memory, though he emerged so infrequently that was all he was to them. Only the occasional brave youth from Priya’s line would venture deep beneath the mountain to seek him out as a rite of passage. He let himself be found and always gave them a gift to take back: a freshly renewed bond and a new talisman for their firstborn child.
He waited outside the cave, and it didn’t take more than a few hours for his presence to be noticed. The priestess who greeted him was dressed in a golden embroidered sari and sat atop an ornately decorated elephant who trumpeted her own greeting to him.
Both priestess and elephant bowed their heads to him when he rose to his full height and spread his wings.
“Thank you for coming, Duhita,” he greeted her, sending her a plume of magic smoke as was his custom over the years during rituals and visitations.
“My pleasure, Vishvakarman. Are you in need of a special ritual? Please tell me how we may serve you and honor our families by doing so.”
“Gather everyone who is willing. I have grown weary of my life on this island, and now that my temple is complete, it’s time for me to sleep within it. But before I shut myself inside, I have one more task, and need as much power as I can gather from my followers.”
“I will see to it now. We shall come to you at the peak at sunset.”
That evening’s ritual was unlike any they’d performed for him before. More than two dozen priestesses, priests, and acolytes participated with even more surrounding them, playing their instruments and keeping time with the bodies entwined in intimate congress. They continued for hours, and Aodh circled the tangled humans, lending his breath and his tongue to their pleasure, absorbing the energy he needed until the sun broke over the horizon in the east and every member of the group but Aodh was limp and exhausted.
He blew out one last potent breath over the entire group, infusing it with a suggestion that his presence the night before had been but a hallucination—a vision sent from the ether to give them wisdom, and not a dragon in the flesh sharing their pleasure with them. Then he conjured a cloak for the exterior of the temple to make it appear no more than a vine- and tree-covered mountain before he crawled back into his cave. As he descended, he flicked his tail in broad sweeps at the walls and ceilings of the cave, collapsing it behind him.
If the ones who he wished to find him actually came, they would need no door to reach him.
Once back in the core of the mountain, he wandered through the vast, empty halls of the pristine temple, barely registering the exquisite work of art he’d created with his own talons and magic. The center of the temple held a gradually widening spiral staircase beginning at the very peak of the mountain beneath the gold-starred cupola roof. He entered it at the great hall where he’d placed the requisite green jade throne to await the queen who would rule the first generation of hibernating dragons.
He descended several flights past all the empty chambers where the other dragons would sleep while they awaited their Fated mates to arrive and awaken them. Far beneath where the earth grew warmest was a secret chamber he’d built to spend the rest of his days in while he waited in what hoped would not become a futile effort.
Within this chamber was a carefully constructed pool containing water from a hot spring that bubbled up from far beneath. The huge, elliptical chamber held nothing else but a pair of carved figures he’d created in the hopes that their likenesses would somehow call them here through time. But he’d decided that wasn’t enough …
If he was forced to bide his time here, he wanted a secret way out whenever he finally reached his own time again. A way to safeguard his kind with each passing century.
The other temples had yet to be built, but he knew their locations and their construction as well as he knew this one. Each of them would have a similar hidden chamber with a spring like this one that had originally been merely symbolic and meant to tie the dragons to the elements as they slept, so that the essence of all the higher races would be remembered. The steam from water heated in the fires within the earth’s own belly rose up around him, carried by the invisible currents of the secret ducts built into the vault-like temples. It symbolized the dragons’ loyalty to the other higher races and their intention to persevere against their enemy.
All he had to do was carve the glyphs into the stone between his lovers. Six circular patterns, six of his most potent lungfuls of magical fire to bind the spells that would only activate when the chambers in those other temples were finally built.
The guardians who built each chamber only knew they must be built and sealed, the symbolic core of power to bring good fortune to the dragons who slumbered above. He’d already left the plans for all the other temples in a locked chest within the queen’s chamber. Not even he would question them when he discovered them … After all, he hadn’t, had he?
He snorted, his breath making the freshly carved glyphs glow brighter for a moment. Like his siblings, he’d seen this temple and everything within it as a divine gift in their time of need. Well, here he was, the so-called god of architecture readying himself to hibernate in the secret cell within his own prison. Proof that the divine powers he knew existed really had very little interest in the lives of their creations.
If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. So he had, and now he was tired. Not just tired, but soul-weary, his heart aching for the contact of the two people he’d longed for to the exclusion of all else for the past two centuries.
He settled himself across the steaming pool, his snout resting at the edge, breathing the aromatic steam he’d infused with as much of his own magic as he could to infect himself with; the magic that would eventually result in stasis meant to last until a fated mate arrived to awaken him.
Through the pale haze of magic, he gazed at the pair of statues. The long-legged satyr with the most beautiful cock Aodh had ever encountered rested on one side, his huge horns arcing up to the ceiling above.
On the other side facing him sat Vrishti with her knees bent and legs spread, her core open and ready like some luscious fertility goddess awaiting the seed of her lover.
They were his, and despite his detour, he had to believe Fate had not lied. Somehow he would be with them again. As he drifted off with the sight of the two statues filling his vision, they seemed to come alive in his mind, the satyr figure rising off his seat and stalking to the lovely ursa maiden and burying his cock deep inside her. When she climaxed, the room flooded with the gushing wetness of her power,
and he finally understood why the Source needed to be protected.
Power that strong must be kept safe at all costs.
Chapter Thirteen
Calder
The hunter’s huge fist sailed at Calder’s jaw for the second time. He braced himself, resisting the reflexive urge to liquefy in order to absorb the impact without pain. Knuckles cracked into his cheek with a sickening smack and agony sliced through his head. Deep inside his mind, Aurum and Nicholas both winced and their worry tightened his chest.
“There must be a secret portal to access the Haven. The sooner you tell me how to access it, the sooner I will put you out of your misery.” Meri’s chilly voice slithered into his ears, sending a razor slice of icy fear down his spine. He shook it off and flexed his jaw. It was a trick of her power and no more. She couldn’t really hurt him, now that he was blood-melded to his mates.
The big hunter raised his fist again, ready to strike on his mistress’s command. Calder eyed him warily, wondering how many more strikes he’d have to endure before she gave up for the day, or before she let slip some clue as to the whereabouts of the satyrs she held captive.
“I told you, my mother’s gone mad and locked down the Haven. I barely made it out alive. Releasing Nereus is the only way back in.”
“Your father is dead, along with all the rest of the Thiasoi soldiers I captured. Try again.”
She was determined to stick to that story, it seemed. He shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell you expect me to tell you. We’ve been over this for days. You siccing your thugs on me isn’t going to change the truth. Mother’s batshit crazy, Uncle Neph is MIA, and I’m locked the fuck out of the Haven. My father is the only thing that can fix her. If he’s dead, then I guess we are both shit out of luck.”
Meri rounded on him with a howl of rage, her dark hair flying. She flew at him, snarling like a wild thing, her eyes a cyclone of fury, her nose nearly pressed against his when she grabbed his head raked her nails across his cheek deep enough to draw blood. She bent her head and licked a long, wet line across the bleeding wound she’d just given him, then sat back and sneered.