Dragon Bond

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “You are a general. You command many more.”

  “Yes.”

  He regarded her curiously, not certain whether she was agreeing with him or answering his first question. “I have found,” he said slowly, not wanting to reveal his identity, but wanting her to know that they were perhaps more the same than she knew, “that you cannot speak openly to those who follow you, that you must always wear a facade. They expect fearlessness in a leader, power and strength. Perhaps they even need it, to assuage their own fears.”

  Shaylinor looked at him, but long seconds dribbled by, and she did not answer.

  “It is difficult, sometimes,” he said, looking for a way to wrap up his comments, in case she had no interest in listening to more. “When you lead, you are often alone, even when surrounded by your own kind.” A truth, he admitted. Sometimes, when commanding dragons, he had felt as alone as when he had huddled in the pit mine by himself, his hands under his armpits for warmth. Surely, she must have had similar experiences?

  “Much in life is difficult,” Shaylinor finally said. “Especially these days.”

  He winced, certain these days referred to the years since his kind had arrived. More, her words seemed a dismissal. Perhaps she agreed with his sentiments, but she would not let her guard down to admit it.

  “It has been for me lately,” he said, trying to make his tone agreeable rather than bitter. He did not want to have the tone of an enemy, not with her.

  “I’ll bet.”

  He couldn’t tell if there was any sympathy in her words or not. He shouldn’t be searching for sympathy, he told himself, nor should he be thinking about mating or winning her regard. This preoccupation was silly. What he needed to concentrate on was ensuring she fulfilled her part of the bargain. Or perhaps there would be an opportunity to slip her sword away from her for long enough to cut through his collar. He would still give her the information he had promised—anything less would be dishonorable—but he needn’t go on in this pitiful form if he could once again be the dragon, powerful and fearless. Without shame.

  A soft birdcall sounded in the distance.

  “Stay here,” Shaylinor said and strode away.

  He stretched out his hand, as if to pull her back, but her walk turned into a jog, as if she couldn’t get away from him quickly enough. Soon voices sounded in a gully, hers and another man’s. Her contact, presumably.

  She called to the slaves. “This way, everyone. Marmoth is going to see you to safety.”

  Talon remained where he was and watched her as she waved the men and women past. Wherever they were going, he wasn’t invited. That was fine with him. He would be kept with Shaylinor for the next two weeks. Less time than that, if he could free himself. That should definitely be his goal, but he admitted that the thought of leaving her with a map of the tunnels and simply disappearing into the sky, never to see her again, unless it was as an enemy, did not hold much appeal.

  Chapter 5

  When the tang of the ocean teased Zala’s nose, she inhaled deeply, knowing it meant they would reach her camp by nightfall. She had grown up by the water, and the scent made her think fondly of her parents and home, even if they had passed on and their house had been destroyed in the first year of the war. She supposed nostalgia was the word, not fondness.

  Her pace quickened as the water came into view in the distance, high yellow grasses replacing the cactuses of the desert. It wasn’t just because she missed her camp. Concern for her situation affected her pace. The refugees had been handed off to another and were being led into the subterranean world that the dragons did not yet know about, so she need not worry about them, but her little group was still being followed.

  Several times that day, Zala, Vorkan, Salena, and Talon had been forced to hide in the shadows of boulders or cliffs as a dragon swept overhead. She wasn’t sure if it was the one that had attacked Talon the night before or if several were out there, hunting for their lost slaves. Either way, she would have to move her camp as soon as she arrived. Her actions the previous day were sure to bring retribution. Still, she could not regret freeing those people.

  Zala glanced back at Salena, who walked behind her and Talon. She had been uncharacteristically silent all morning. Zala regretted her words the night before, chastising her young lieutenant over her questions to Talon and her interest in him. She was a curious young woman, and that interest was perfectly natural. An unreasonable sense of possessiveness had surged up within Zala, a desire to keep her lieutenant away from her prisoner.

  Her prisoner. She almost snorted at herself. As if that mattered. The information Talon offered could help all of her people. But she couldn’t imagine it being a good idea to let anyone, male or female, sleep with him. He had an undeniable pull, one that even she felt, but they had to remember what he was, that this form of his was a charade and nothing more.

  Zala waved for Salena to come up and walk at her side. “Are you doing all right, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While Zala groped for something else to say, a way to mend hurt feelings, Salena spoke again.

  “Are you doing all right, General?”

  “Of course.” Zala, worried she had been slumping or otherwise appearing weary, straightened her shoulders. She must always appear strong for her troops.

  Briefly, the thought made her recall Talon’s words from the night before, the way he had spoken of the loneliness of command, and how similar his experiences seemed to have been to hers. It had unsettled her, both because she did not want to feel camaraderie toward her prisoner, and because if he was some officer in the dragon army, it made him more her enemy than ever.

  “Do you think I’m too old to stay up all night and march the next day?” she asked, bringing her focus back to Salena.

  “No, but I wasn’t sure if you could do it without your morning coffee. You always have it. Most of the soldiers know not to bother you before you’ve had it.”

  Gods, Zala had missed her morning cup. A person shouldn’t have to spend the night dodging dragons and then head straight off on a march without a steaming mug of coffee to enhance her fortitude. Her mouth watered at the thought, but she turned an indignant expression on her lieutenant.

  “You make it sound like I would be a simpering invalid without it.”

  “Less simpering and more... cranky.”

  “But still an invalid?”

  “Uhm.”

  “You do know that lieutenants aren’t supposed to tease generals, right?” Zala asked. “It’s in Pasevdor’s Manual on Formations, Regulations, and Combat.”

  Salena scratched her jaw. “No teasing? Not at all?”

  “No. It’s completely inappropriate. I’ll probably have to punish you.”

  “By withholding coffee?”

  Please, what kind of punishment would that be? Salena eschewed the morning brew, saying she did not like the taste. Such a heathen. “No, that would be inhumane. I’ll think of something else.”

  “Humane punishment. I look forward to it.”

  Zala dipped into her pocket for a small pouch lined with waxed paper. This talk of coffee had made her taste buds itch.

  “What’s that?” Salena asked. Her eyes were far too good.

  Zala dumped out some of the contents and held out her hand, revealing several roasted beans. “You didn’t truly think I came out to the field without a supply, did you?”

  “But you didn’t bring your pot along.”

  “Not enough space.” Zala tossed a bean in her mouth and chomped on it. “Want to try one?”

  “I’d rather lick a rock.”

  “I really don’t understand why the gods gave you a storm sword. You truly are uncivilized, Lieutenant.”

  “Does Pasevdor’s book allow for generals to tease lieutenants?” Salena asked.

  “Oh yes. It’s expected.”

  Zala bumped Salena’s arm in a friendly way, then broke into a jog. “I’m going up to check on Vorkan.”


  “Right here, ma’am,” came Vorkan’s voice from over a hill. He appeared a moment later, his pace also quick. He pointed to the sky behind Talon. “I spotted a dragon in the distance, maybe that same one.”

  As if it had heard him and wanted to issue an agreement, Zala’s sword hummed on her hip. She peered at the chest-high yellow grass that stretched along the coast for miles. Hiding places were few.

  “We’ll have to duck into the grass and hope that does enough to camouflage us,” Vorkan said, nocking an arrow.

  “Unfortunately, you’re right. Take cover, everyone.” Zala stepped off the trail they had been following, aware of Talon shadowing her, as always, and crouched in the tall grass.

  Salena took up a similar position on the opposite side of the trail. At first, she gazed toward the sky, her hand on the pommel of her sword, but her eyes shifted toward Zala, then toward Talon hunkered right beside her, their shoulders almost touching. Salena’s lips tightened, and she looked away. For a fleeting second, Zala felt pleasure in the fact that Talon had chosen to crouch next to her instead of her beautiful young lieutenant, but she chastised herself for the thought immediately. What foolishness.

  “Give me some space, Dragon Eyes,” she said, frowning at him.

  He blinked, as if he hadn’t realized he was so close, and he promptly obeyed, shifting away so that more tall yellow grass stood between them.

  “Talon,” he said, a hurt expression in his eyes.

  That expression wrenched her heart, making her feel guilty for her harshness. He probably didn’t have any concept of personal space or how his body affected those around him. After all, he considered it with chagrin, finding it puny after being accustomed to his dragon form. He did not realize that many men would covet his powerful, muscular frame and that many women would long to have him between their thighs.

  “Talon,” Zala said softly, offering him a slight smile. “I’m glad you’re not trying to escape, but you are a dragon under that human skin, and we can’t help but be uncomfortable when you’re so close.”

  He swallowed and closed his eyes. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. I would not hurt you, even if I could.” He opened them again, his gaze softer than usual, less intense. Almost a caress.

  A flood of warmth washed over Zala, her body tingling in response. Bedroom eyes. That’s what they called them. Who would have thought a dragon would know how to make them? Did he even know he was doing it? She almost wanted to wave for him to come back, maybe even inviting him closer. Sometimes, he accidentally brushed her, and it never failed to stir heat within her, an ache from a part of her body she had neglected for a long time.

  Zala caught Salena looking in her direction again and shoved aside the thoughts to scan the sky. She glimpsed the mottled scales of a dragon, the sun gleaming off its shiny hide. The creature flew past high above. Zala had no idea if the grass was enough to cover them from its keen eyes. It worked to hide mice from hawks, but this wasn’t quite the same thing.

  “It’s the same one that attacked before,” Vorkan whispered.

  Zala thought so, too, but she looked to Talon for confirmation. He nodded once.

  “Funny that it didn’t turn away to follow the slaves,” Salena said. “It seems stuck on us.”

  “He—she—wouldn’t be able to follow the slaves underground unless she changed to human form.” Zala looked to Talon again. The female dragon could easily be tracking them with its nose and its eyes, but she wondered... “Is it possible they’re able to track you? With magic?”

  She reached toward him and touched his collar. He froze. It was slightly warm to the touch, whether from his body heat or because of some magic, she did not know. She ran her finger along the strange alloy, inadvertently brushing his collarbone and feeling the heat of his body. For an instant, she imagined running her hand over his shoulder or perhaps down the rounded curve of his pectoral muscle to brush his nipple. He wasn’t moving, not even breathing.

  She pulled her hand back and raised her eyebrows. “Is it?”

  His gaze tracked her hand, then lifted to her face. “I hadn’t considered it. Females handle magic in our society. But… it does seem possible.”

  Vorkan’s soft curse came from farther up the trail. “We’re leading that dragon right to our camp.”

  “Free me,” Talon said, waving to his neck. “I’ll throw the collar in the ocean.”

  Her mouth twisted wryly. “Yes, and then you can fly up and join her in tracking us. Won’t that be fun for us?”

  “I’ll attack her, pay her back for trying to kill me.”

  “And then he’ll come attack our camp,” Vorkan groused.

  “No,” Talon said, holding Zala’s gaze. “I’ll return to you. Peacefully. I’ll keep my word. I said I would give you the information on Mount Slash, and I will. I am a worthy ally.” He lifted his chin, his chest puffing out.

  Her gaze drifted toward those pectoral muscles she had been admiring earlier, but no matter how handsome he was, she wasn’t about to let him fool her into anything.

  “Going to help us fight against your own kind, are you?” she asked dryly, knowing he would do no such thing.

  He hesitated. “Some of my kind.”

  He glanced up as the female dragon flew past again.

  Zala waited for the dragon to disappear from the sky above them before speaking again. “Vorkan, run ahead and warn the camp that we’re coming and what we have. Have Colonel Sandirr prepare to move most of the camp to the Red Tiger site. I want only a strike team left behind, competent volunteers who want to help me infiltrate the dragon stronghold and kill their leaders. We’ll go as soon as our prisoner draws us a map.”

  She kept watching Talon as she spoke, wondering if he would look away or do anything to hint that he meant to show her any duplicity. He merely gazed back calmly. This was the first time she had spoken of what she would do with the map he had promised to make, though she supposed he could have guessed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” For the first time since they had met Talon, Vorkan sounded utterly pleased with her.

  It meant little if the sergeant approved of her plans, but she was always glad when she had her people fully behind her.

  A soft rustle of grass was the only sound to announce Vorkan’s departure. Zala waited for the sky to clear before stepping out onto the trail again. This time, Salena led the way. As usual, Talon walked behind Zala, but after her earlier words, he remained a few steps back instead of right behind her shoulder. That was good, she told herself, even as her body wished to have him closer, brushing against her, his hands grabbing her and pulling her close.

  She swallowed, shaking the images away again. Dragon magic. Even if the collar was supposed to squash it, he still had some strange allure that was beyond what mere humans possessed.

  She would be glad when she could hand him off to some soldier to watch and retreat to the privacy of her tent. She needed a break from his constant gaze, from his presence. She couldn’t even imagine what he might be like without that collar on.

  Chapter 6

  The camp was mostly empty when Shaylinor and her lieutenant led Talon into a gorge with a river flowing through it that emptied into a bay. He had flown along this coast numerous times and recalled that this had been a human military camp a few years earlier. Thanks to the water, lush grass and trees flourished within the gorge, a stark contrast to the desert plains above. The vegetation made a good, defensible spot for the humans, with foliage and branches to hide their tents from the sky. It was not surprising that they had returned to the area.

  There were a few tents set up, but he could see the disturbed earth and cold cook fires that promised many more had been here recently. Several men and women in brown uniforms and boots waited for their general’s arrival, all wearing swords and daggers, and many carrying bows or crossbows across their backs. They saluted Shaylinor and more than a few clapped her on the back, asking to hear about how she had freed the slaves and killed anoth
er dragon—killing a dragon seemed to be a greater coup in their eyes than freeing the slaves. Perhaps that should have made Talon bitter, but he only felt pleased that Shaylinor had her people’s regard.

  Lieutenant Salena stood to the side, looking wistful, but Shaylinor waved her over and squeezed her shoulder. She briefly relayed the story, highlighting how her lieutenant and archer had helped—indeed, making their roles seem greater than they had been. After that, she started sharing her plan to move against the dragon leaders. Even before she explained what Talon was and why he was here, people glanced often in his direction. He clasped his hands behind his back, hoping none of them would notice that he wasn’t bound. As far as he could sense, Shaylinor and Salena were the only ones in the camp with storm swords. It wouldn’t surprise him if the soldiers insisted on having him tied up to ensure he couldn’t hurt anyone. What they thought he could do with this frail body, he couldn’t imagine.

  “You brought him for information, General?” a woman with a crossbow asked, looking over Talon more frankly than most of the others had. “Are you sure that’s why? He’s the prettiest prisoner we’ve ever had.”

  “Of course he is,” Shaylinor said. “He could choose any form he wanted, so why wouldn’t he pick one that could stir our women’s imaginations? Just remember what he is.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The woman’s voice did not sound that contrite, and she perused Talon openly, licking her lips as her gaze ran down his chest to his groin.

  Shaylinor watched the bow woman, perhaps displeased by the interest in her prisoner? No, she was probably only worried that her soldiers would fail to take proper security precautions around him. She didn’t seem to believe him that he had no wish to harm her or her people. But wasn’t that understandable? If a red dragon had once come into his kind’s camp, claiming to have no ill intent toward them, would he have believed that dragon? No, he would have thought it had an ulterior motive, one that would result in all of Talon’s people being killed.

  “What should we do with him, ma’am?”