Dragon's Blood: a Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy Book 2)

by Jasmine Walt

  “From what I understand, they may not be needed,” Tariana said. “I spoke to Catriona, Ara, and Xenai last night, and they are nearly completely healed. They said their wounds started to mend almost as soon as they crossed the border and that most of the dragon born are healing nicely too. A few days of rest and they should be back on their feet.”

  “Excellent,” Drystan said with a nod. “They can help with the rest of the wounded, then.” Despite its name, only a quarter of the Dragon Force’s members actually had dragon blood flowing through their veins. Before Shalia’s Curse, every soldier had been a dragon—now, with their dwindling numbers, the vast majority were human.

  “The soldiers appear to be quite happy with your edict,” Lucyan observed. “Exempting them, and their families, from taxes for the next two years was quite smart of you.”

  “It was the least I could do since we have no money to compensate them,” Drystan said. He scrubbed a hand over his beard, the mystery of the missing treasure still weighing heavily on his mind. The scouts had not reported back anything yet—it would take them weeks to thoroughly scour the mountains, and they had to be careful about it or they might well get eaten. “The nobles aren’t very happy about it since it’s cutting into their profits, but I can hardly explain the reasoning behind my decision.”

  “Nor should you have to,” Lucyan said firmly. “A king does not need to explain every action to his subjects.”

  “If there is anything important you need me to take care of today, you’d best speak up now,” Tariana said, abruptly changing the subject. “I will be leaving Dragon’s Keep tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Drystan echoed. “Where are you off to in such a hurry? We’ve ordered our troops to back down, so it isn’t as if you have a battle to lead.”

  “Perhaps not, but I am needed all the same.” Tariana’s face darkened. “I’ve received word that Ryolas may be executed for his crimes against the crown. It would seem that Arolas, his older brother, has won their father’s favor and turned the king against him. I cannot allow Ryolas to die when his actions have saved so many of our people.” Her amber eyes glimmered as she got to her feet. “I must find him and free him, if I can.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Lucyan said, snagging Tariana by the wrist before she could leave the room. “You do realize that the moment you cross into elven territory they’ll put an arrow through your eye, don’t you? You are no mere soldier, Tariana—you’re our general, and the princess royal, besides. They’ll recognize you on sight.”

  “I’ll disguise myself,” she said stubbornly. “I can use hair dye to change my coloring and a cloak to shield my face. It isn’t as if I’m going to charge in there wearing my armor.”

  “Even so, someone may see through your disguise,” Drystan pointed out. “I agree we should rescue Ryolas—we owe him a great debt. But there is no reason to rush headlong into danger without doing some reconnaissance first.”

  “Let Shadley and I find out where Ryolas is being kept first, and the exact nature of his circumstances,” Lucyan urged. For once, there was no hint of belligerence in his eyes—he was usually quite standoffish with Tariana, but right now he was only concerned for their sister. “We’ll send some spies to Elvenhame. They should be able to get us word on how Dareena and Alistair are faring as well.”

  “Oh, all right.” Tariana sighed and resumed her seat. She still looked troubled, lines of exhaustion plaguing her face, and the fierce, confident aura she usually emanated was nowhere to be found.

  Surreptitiously, Drystan scooted a little closer, and draped an arm around Tariana’s shoulders. His eldest sister stiffened, not that he blamed her—he couldn’t remember the last time either of them had offered the other comfort. But after a few seconds passed, she sighed and leaned into the embrace.

  “You really love him, don’t you?” Lucyan asked. His eyes narrowed as he studied Tariana.

  She smiled. “Not at first. I thought he was far too pretty, and told him so the first time he asked me to dance. I believe my words to him were, ‘I would never fuck a man who couldn’t hold his own against me outside the bedroom.’”

  Lucyan chuckled. “Of course you told him that. How did he worm his way past your icy façade?”

  “He challenged me to a sword fight in the garden.” Tariana smiled fondly, her eyes shining with the memory. “That fight turned into a tumble in the bushes, and—”

  “That’s quite enough,” Drystan said, holding up a hand. His insides were squirming, and it took everything he had not to cringe. “I’ve no need to hear about your sexual activities, sister.”

  Tariana snorted. “So it’s perfectly all right for the two of you to discuss your sexual experiences together, but not me?”

  Drystan and Lucyan exchanged uncomfortable glances. “It’s one thing to talk about pegging someone,” Lucyan finally said, “but quite another to talk about actually being pegged—”

  “Fine,” Tariana said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, we saw each other every time he came to court, and when I was seventeen, he asked Father for my hand.”

  Drystan felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. “He was going to marry you?”

  Tariana scowled. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite the catch.”

  “No one is calling your sexual prowess into question,” Lucyan said with a wave of his hand. “It’s just that you’re infertile, Tariana, and Ryolas was his father’s favored at the time and therefore expected to produce heirs. I’m surprised King Andur allowed it.”

  “He didn’t, and neither did our father,” Tariana said with a shrug. “We continued to see each other in secret afterward, knowing nothing would ever come of it. It became much harder once the war started, and now…” Her eyes shone with tears, and she swallowed. “We have to get him back. We have to.”

  Drystan hugged her, his heart aching for his sister. Tariana had a spine of steel—he wasn’t used to seeing her so vulnerable. “We will,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll get Ryolas back, and Dareena and Alistair too. And once we’re reunited, we’ll rain hell down on anyone who tries to split us apart again.”

  Tariana gave a watery chuckle. “This entire situation is a catastrophe, but at least it has brought us closer together. It’s funny how the catalyst that is strengthening our family bonds is also the same thing that might tear our entire kingdom apart.”

  Drystan smiled. “It is only in times of adversity that we discover who we really are,” he quoted some old saying he’d read in a book somewhere. “It brings me great comfort to know that as siblings, we have each other’s backs.”

  They talked for a few minutes longer, and then Tariana and Lucyan left to consult with Shadley. Drystan was just about to go check on the wounded when someone knocked at his door.

  “Lord Renflaw,” he said, a little surprised to see the Council Head standing outside. Flanking him were Lords Brimlow and Delvin, both highly influential councilmen. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “We’ve come to speak with you about some of your recent edicts,” Lord Renflaw said. “Might we come in?”

  “Certainly,” Drystan said, hiding the uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. He offered the councilmen the chairs his siblings had vacated and poured them each a glass of wine. “How can I help you?” he asked, taking his own seat.

  “It has come to our attention that you recently decreed a two-year tax break for all Dragon Force soldiers and their families,” Lord Brimlow said. His thick, copper mustache twitched as he spoke, and his elegant eyebrows drew together in a frown. “As you can imagine, this has caused quite a stir amongst your vassals, who rely on this income in order to maintain their lands.”

  “As I understand it, my vassals have had several good years, and their coffers are quite full despite the war,” Drystan said calmly. Which is more than I can say for myself, he added silently. “I believe they can withstand two years, and besides, they will still be receiving
taxes from the majority of our citizens.”

  “That may be so,” Lord Delvin said in a strident tone, “but you did not clear this decision with the council first. If you had, we would have told you what folly it was.”

  “You are very close to inciting outright rebellion,” Renflaw warned, his eyes glittering dangerously. “The common people, from whom our soldiers are drawn, must not be exempted from taxes. If they get used to such leniency, it could prove fatal for the stability of our country.”

  “Just as the recent tax hikes have already proven fatal for the stability of our country,” Drystan snapped. “Or did you not notice the number of Black Cloaks chanting ‘good riddance’ in the crowd the day my mate and brother were taken away? Our countrymen have long been unhappy with both the war and the taxes needed to fund it. Giving our soldiers a tax break will go a long way toward mollifying them, and might I remind you, the common people vastly outnumber the nobles.”

  “Is that why you recently submitted a proposal to increase taxes for the ransom fund?” Brimlow asked. “You expect us to take this reduction to our income in silence while approving a tax hike of your own so that you might avoid touching the vast piles of gold in your treasury?” He turned up his nose, and Drystan was tempted to scorch the mustache right off his smarmy face. “I think not, Your Highness.”

  “Take care how you speak to your king,” Drystan growled, clenching his hands beneath the table. The council members exchanged uneasy looks but did not seem inclined to back down. Unfortunately, Drystan could see this from their point of view. Without knowing the treasury was empty, the tax hike he’d proposed made no sense. “If we don’t get the Dragon’s Gift back, our kingdom is doomed.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to sell off a few plates, then,” Delvin said haughtily. “We all know how valuable the Dragon’s Gift is—surely she’s worth giving up the silverware for.”

  Drystan swallowed the snarl rising in his throat. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me, my lords?”

  He must not have hidden his anger completely, for the three men before him paled. Drystan realized smoke was pouring out of his nostrils, and he hastily extinguished the fire in his chest. He needed to get a firm hold on his temper, or he was no better than his father.

  “You mentioned the Black Cloak Brotherhood earlier,” Lord Renflaw said, speaking a bit more gently than before. “Our sources tell us that they have preachers wandering the outlying provinces, spreading anti-dragon propaganda. They claim that dragons are anachronistic, relics of a bygone past, and that it is time for humans to rule Dragonfell.”

  “Humans?” Drystan sputtered. “That’s preposterous. It is called Dragonfell for a reason.”

  “Maybe so,” Lord Brimlow said, “but in view of all this unrest, it would be wise of you to court favor with your vassals. As dragon born, we too do not wish to see humans overthrow the current regime, but as you mentioned”—he shrugged a shoulder—“they do make up the majority.”

  “I see,” Drystan said, and really, he did. The councilman was saying, in not so many words, that Drystan needed them more than they needed him. And until he recovered the treasure and Dareena, the councilman was right. Sighing, he settled into his chair and prepared to listen to the rest of their grievances. He couldn’t reverse his edict about the soldiers’ tax exemption, not without creating even more civil unrest. But he could promise to consult with them before making any other decisions. As much as he didn’t like being questioned, he had to play ball.

  He only hoped the council wouldn’t back him into a corner as far as his relationship with Dareena was concerned. He knew the idea of all three brothers sharing the throne, and the Dragon’s Gift, was unheard of. But Drystan didn’t care. His family came first, and the gods help any man who tried to stand in his way.

  8

  It took hours for the rain to let up, and even then, Dareena and Alistair were forced to make the rest of the journey in that open cart while a steady drizzle continued. Normally, Alistair would have been able to keep them warm with his dragon fire, but with the enchantment sapping his strength, he was barely able to sit upright. By the time they arrived at Enethar, Elvenhame’s capital city and home to Castle Whitestone, Alistair was shivering, his brow hot with fever.

  “Help me get him inside,” Dareena urged the guards as they pulled up in front of the castle. It was late at night, and far too dark for Dareena to appreciate the castle’s splendor even if she had been in any mood to do so.

  The guards smirked a little as they beheld Alistair in his sorry state, but the duchess ordered them to do Dareena’s bidding. It seemed that she, too, was tired from their long journey, for she swept into the castle without a word, presumably heading to her room for the night. The steward, a tall, reed-thin elf with black hair, showed them to adjoining rooms that were modest for their rank but not uncomfortable. Dareena barely noticed the surroundings at all—the moment they were alone, she opened the adjoining door and hurried into Alistair’s room.

  “Come now,” she said, grabbing his hand. He’d collapsed onto the bed, his big body shaking. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”

  “S-so c-c-cold,” he chattered, his eyes squeezed shut.

  It took Dareena a few minutes, but she managed to coax him upright and get him out of his sodden clothes. Once he was naked, she stripped off her own clothing, then burrowed under the covers with him.

  “Let’s get you warm.” She pressed her naked body flush against his. His skin was scalding in some places, ice cold in others, but she let none of that deter her as she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back with slow, soothing motions.

  Alistair muttered something incomprehensible as he buried his face in her neck, and she nuzzled his cheek.

  “There now,” she said as his shaking gradually subsided. “You’re starting to feel better, aren’t you?”

  “Much,” he mumbled into her neck, and she laughed. Her laugh subsided as he skimmed his hand down her bare back, then gently squeezed her bottom. “You feel good.”

  Dareena shivered as his hard length pressed into her belly. “You should get some rest,” she whispered, even as her nipples began to pebble. He shifted a little, and she bit back a moan as his chest scraped against her breasts.

  “I had plenty of rest in that accursed wagon,” he said, nudging her legs apart. Dareena gasped as he slid his fingers between her thighs and cupped her. She was already growing wet, her tender folds aching as he massaged her, and she arched into his touch when he found her clit.

  “I guess…a little sex…wouldn’t hurt…” she managed as he played with her. A moan tore from her lips when he bent his head and bit down on the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. After all, sex strengthened her dragon princes, didn’t it? Perhaps a tumble in the sheets would drive away some of the foul magic plaguing Alistair and replenish his strength.

  “That’s it,” he breathed as she came, clutching at his broad shoulders while she shook from the force of it. Rolling her onto her back, he kissed a scorching path down her chest, then traced slow circles around her nipples until she was gripping fistfuls of his hair, urging him lower. Her hips shot straight off the bed when he took her clit in his mouth, sucking hard, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as she flew off the deep end again.

  “Again,” Alistair demanded. He slid two fingers inside her as he continued to lick the sensitive nub, driving her absolutely wild. Unable to control herself, Dareena stuffed part of the sheet in her mouth so she could grab his hair again, urging him on. She was on fire, burning from the inside out with need, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if her entire body glowed from the force. Her mind was saturated with need, her heart full to bursting, and she couldn’t get enough, she couldn’t—

  “Mine,” he growled, finally slamming into her. She screamed his name as he filled her, stretching her to the fine line between pain and pleasure, and he ripped the impromptu gag from her
mouth. He kissed her fiercely, filling her with the taste of him, his tongue deep inside her mouth as he fucked her with single-minded determination. The bed shook so hard beneath them that he gripped the headboard with one hand, and Dareena sank her fingernails into his luscious arse, urging him faster, harder, deeper. The air around them hummed with power as their souls, for a brief moment in time, strained toward each other, determined to become one.

  “Yes,” she moaned into his mouth as the edge rushed up to meet her. The orgasm hit, a tidal wave of pure pleasure that had her eyes rolling back into her head. Alistair stiffened, and then he came, his entire body vibrating from the force of it. Dareena smiled against his mouth, her walls clenched around his cock as she milked him for all he was worth.

  “Mine,” he growled again, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. He bit down on her shoulder, a gesture that was somehow possessive and tender all at once.

  “Yours,” she murmured in his ear as he collapsed on top of her. A soft warmth spread through her as he rolled onto his side, cradling her back against his chest, and she smiled as he nuzzled her neck.

  “Yes, I’m definitely feeling much better,” he said, and she laughed. “Thank you.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

  “You don’t have to thank me.” She twisted her neck so she could stick out her tongue at him. “I’m not doing you a favor. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “An arrangement, is it?” He nipped at her earlobe, making her squirm. “I’ve got some news for you.”

  “Oh?” She stilled at the serious note in his voice. “What is it?”

  He splayed a hand against her belly. “You’re pregnant.”