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

by Jasmine Walt

“Princess.” Lucyan bowed deeply. “At your service.”

  “Thank you,” Princess Basilla said. She was seated behind a white desk—a stunning woman, Lucyan observed with some detachment, with long, shining chestnut hair, a beautiful face, and green eyes disturbingly similar to Dareena’s. “Please, Doctor, have a seat.”

  Lucyan did. “So, it is true that there is an ill dragon here?” he asked. “The rumors seemed outlandish, but when I heard, I knew I had to come and offer my services.”

  Princess Basilla nodded. “My fool of a brother lost his temper last night and decided to take it out on one of our hostages,” she said, the skin around her mouth tightening with displeasure. “He has lost an arm, and is doing very poorly right now.”

  Rage flared up in Lucyan again, and he squashed it quickly before it could show on his face. “Is the arm the only injury the prince suffers?” he asked.

  “Injury, yes,” Princess Basilla said. “But the anti-dragon spell has also affected his health. I believe he would recover on his own if not for the magic, but there is nothing I can do about that save for sending him back to his own country. And that, the king will not allow.”

  “Of course,” Lucyan murmured, noting the pity in Basilla’s eyes. So she was more like her younger brother, Ryolas, he mused, though that did not necessarily mean she was sympathetic to all dragons. “The spell will hamper my work, but I mixed up some potions specially formulated for dragons. They should help boost his healing.”

  “Excellent.” Princess Basilla rose from her chair. “Let’s get you to him, then. I fear the prince may be dying, so there is no time to waste.”

  24

  “Oh, Alistair.” Dareena sighed as she mopped his sweaty brow with a cool cloth. “I wish there was something I could do to ease your suffering.”

  “You are doing something,” Alistair said, his voice rough with pain. “Every time you touch me, you’re helping.”

  Dareena bit her lip. She’d been healing Alistair with her magic every few hours, but it wasn’t having much effect—he’d been exposed to the anti-dragon spell for too long. All the healing did was keep him from getting worse, but his time spent in the dungeons, away from her, combined with the trauma of having his arm severed, had brought him close to death’s door. His forehead was scalding, his face was lined with exhaustion, and his body shook with racking coughs that sounded like death rattles.

  “It should have been me who lost that arm,” she said dully, dipping the cloth in the bucket of water. She squeezed the cloth to wring the water out, her knuckles going white as she imagined her hands around Arolas’s throat. He’d taken Alistair’s sword arm, and for a soldier, that was almost worse than death. Even if he trained himself to fight left-handed, he might never be as good as he once was.

  Alistair gripped her wrist and turned her around to face him. “Don’t say such foolish things,” he said fiercely. “I can handle losing an arm. I could handle losing my life if it meant keeping you safe. But I couldn’t abide anything happening to you.”

  “Nor could I abide anything happening to you,” Dareena cried. “The reason Arolas went after you is because of his jealousy. If I had not provoked him—”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Alistair growled. He pulled her flush against his body and kissed her quick and hard. “Being beautiful and opinionated does not give any man the right to your body, or to be angry that someone else is sharing it instead. It is not your fault that Arolas is such a vile maggot.”

  Dareena opened her mouth to respond, but Alistair’s eyes rolled back into his head. “Alistair!” she cried as he passed out, his head thudding against the pillow. “Please, please don’t get any worse,” she begged, pressing her hand to his forehead. She tried to pull more magic from the air and feed it to him, but her mental muscles were already overtaxed from doing so multiple times throughout the night. Tears of exhaustion and grief seeped from her eyes, and she swiped at them in frustration. Why was she so useless?

  “Dareena?” The door behind her opened, and she turned to see Princess Basilla hurry inside, a strange, bespectacled man wearing a long coat and carrying a satchel following her. “This is Doctor Otho Harrigan. He has worked with dragon patients before and says that he can help Alistair.”

  “A dragon doctor?” Dareena rose, looking the doctor up and down with skepticism. She wished Alistair were awake—if the man was a charlatan he would be able to sniff him out immediately. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “I assure you, I have spent a great deal of time amongst dragons.” The man brushed past Basilla and approached the bed. “Please move aside, Lady Dareena, so I can look at him.”

  Dareena frowned—there was something familiar about the man’s voice. “Very well,” she said warily, giving him some space. It couldn’t hurt to have the man look at Alistair—perhaps there was a potion in that bag that could help ease his pain. “But I’ll be watching.”

  “As you should.” Something very much like affection glimmered in the doctor’s eyes for a split second as their gazes met. But before Dareena could think about it much more, he bent over Alistair, checking his pulse and feeling his forehead. He rolled up Alistair’s sleeve to expose the newly-healed arm, which had been severed at the elbow.

  “Whoever healed this terrible injury did excellent work,” the doctor said. Dareena was surprised to hear the note of anger in his voice, but perhaps any doctor would be outraged on behalf of their patient.

  “I did what I could for him,” Basilla said, “but I’m afraid I am of no help with his illness. Perhaps being a dragon makes him resistant to my elven magic.”

  The doctor nodded grimly. “I should be able to help him, but I need some time and space. I’ll call for you when I have news.”

  “Very well.” Basilla squeezed Dareena’s hand gently, a gesture of comfort and solidarity that made Dareena’s throat swell with tears. She was so grateful to have the princess as an ally—without Basilla, she would have likely given in to despair already. “I’m only a shout away if you need me,” she said before she left.

  Dareena turned back to the bed just in time to see the doctor pull a necklace over his head. “What are you doing?” she demanded as she watched him fasten the chain around Alistair’s neck. “Is that some kind of warlock magic?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is,” the doctor said in a voice she would recognize anywhere. Shock reverberated through her as she tried to reconcile what she was hearing with what she was seeing. “Look, Dareena,” he said, his tone hushed. “It’s working already.”

  Dareena stared at Alistair. Sure enough, his entire body had relaxed, and the shaking started to subside. “By the gods,” she whispered, drawing closer to the doctor. “Lucyan…is it really you?”

  “It is,” he whispered back, turning to face her. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come after you.”

  “Oh, thank the gods,” she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. She finally let the grief and terror from the past week free, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she shook from the force of it. Lucyan kissed the top of her head and held her tight, murmuring sweet nothings. She clung tightly to him, basking in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

  “There, there, miss,” he said aloud, likely for the benefit of the guards, who could hear her crying from the hallway. “It’ll be all right.”

  Dareena pulled back so she could look up at Lucyan’s face. “What is all this?” she whispered, cupping his cheek. He was nearly unrecognizable, though enough of him remained in his new features that she could see it now that she was really looking. “How did you get here? What does that necklace do?”

  “The necklace has an amulet with a shielding spell that wards against hostile magic,” Lucyan explained. “Shadley gave me a ring that changes my features, and he also put me in touch with a tinkerer who travels freely between Dragonfell and Elvenhame. I’ve been posing as his apprentice.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, hugging him
fiercely. “We have to get out of here. Arolas has been sent to the dungeons, but his father is not quite right. If we truly haven’t the funds to pay the ransom, our lives are in danger every moment we remain.”

  “I agree,” Lucyan said. They both looked down at Alistair, who was sleeping peacefully now. “But we’ll need my dear brother at full strength first.”

  25

  Lucyan and Dareena stayed by Alistair’s side for the next hour, talking quietly amongst themselves as they monitored him. Basilla had come by earlier, and after seeing that Alistair was improving, gave Lucyan permission to tend to him for the rest of the night.

  While Alistair rested much easier wearing the amulet, the anti-dragon spell affected Lucyan. His chest had constricted, making it hard to draw breath, and weakness had settled into his muscles.

  “I don’t know how he’s lasted this long,” Lucyan said, shaking his head. He clasped Dareena’s hand loosely in his own—touching her seemed to help a bit. “It seems I got here just in time.”

  “You really did,” Dareena said. She squeezed his hand tight, though her emerald gaze did not stray from Alistair’s face. “I’ve been trying to heal him, but I’m still new to this magic, and I’ve taxed my abilities to their limit. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t arrived.”

  “Heal him?” Lucyan turned in his chair to look at her fully. “What do you mean?”

  She turned to meet Alistair’s eyes. “Do you remember that day you took me out for a picnic? When I told you that I suspected I had an elven ancestor in my family tree?”

  “Yes.” Lucyan looked down at the ring on her finger. “You were telling me that’s where you thought your green eyes came from.”

  She nodded. “It turns out green eyes aren’t the only thing I’ve inherited,” she said. “I can also use elven magic, to a limited degree. I found a primer in the library and have been practicing daily. “

  “Really?” Lucyan asked, astonished. Shock and delight filled him as he looked her up and down—his little minx continued to surprise him. “Have you learned many spells? What abilities do you have?”

  “I can heal and do a few other things,” Dareena said, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t do a demonstration right now even if I wanted to. I’ve depleted all my energy.” She passed a hand over her face, which looked drawn and exhausted.

  “Go get some rest.” He took her hands and pulled her up from the chair. “You’re no good to us if you’re tired.”

  Dareena hesitated. “I don’t want to leave him,” she said, glancing at Alistair’s prone form.

  Lucyan gently gripped her shoulders, drawing her attention back to him. “I’ll let you know as soon as he’s awake.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Despite his lethargy, his loins stirred at the sensation of her lush lips on his, and he had to pull back before he took more from her than she could give. “Go now,” he said.

  Dareena left, and Lucyan sank back into the chair, resuming his vigil. He had no idea how long it would take for Alistair to heal—it could be hours or days. There was no precedent for this—dragons were rudely healthy creatures and not prone to illness or injuries that required lengthy recovery. But Alistair had been exposed to the anti-dragon spell for more than a week, and for that matter, so had the baby growing in Dareena’s belly. Could they really afford to wait days for Alistair to heal? He hated the idea of leaving his brother behind, but their babe’s safety was paramount. Was it better to try to spirit Dareena out now, while the babe was still in its early stages of growth?

  No, a voice in his head said. The dragon god made it clear that all four of you must survive for the curse to break.

  Right. Leaving Alistair behind was not an option. Lucyan closed his eyes, praying to the dragon god to speed his brother’s recovery. The longer Alistair took, the weaker Lucyan himself would grow.

  As the hours dragged on, Lucyan found it harder and harder to stay awake. Natural exhaustion coupled with the anti-dragon spell made him drowsy, and eventually he began to nod off.

  “Lucyan?” Alistair croaked, startling him. His eyes flew open, and he grinned at the sight of Alistair staring back at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Ah, so you recognize me?” Lucyan asked, keeping his voice down as he perched on the edge of the bed. Before she’d left, Princess Basilla had ordered the guards to move to the end of the hall to give them some privacy, but even so, he didn’t want to risk them overhearing.

  Alistair gave him a weak smile. “You can’t fool me with that getup,” he said. “I’d recognize your foul stench anywhere.”

  Lucyan chuckled. “Wonderful to see you too,” he said, clapping Alistair on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like someone has placed two tons of bricks on me,” he admitted. “I’m weaker than a kitten, but at least I’m alive.” He glanced down at his severed arm and grimaced. “Though I must admit, I was hoping that part was a dream.”

  Lucyan winced. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “With any luck, you’ll be able to heal that once you’ve made your first shift.”

  “That’s not going to happen so long as I’m within these walls,” Alistair said. His brow furrowed. “How is it that I’m on the mend? I feel like hell, but that’s a lot better than I was feeling before.”

  Lucyan tapped the amulet resting against Alistair’s bare chest. “Warding amulet,” he explained. “It protects against hostile magic. I wouldn’t have made it here without it.”

  Alistair smiled. “Trust you to have something like this in your arsenal,” he said. He lifted his head a little, glancing around the room. “Where is Dareena?”

  “Sleeping,” Lucyan said. He glanced toward the door, a wave of longing washing over him. As much as he was glad to be by his brother’s side, he yearned to be with his mate. Part of him had been terrified that he would never see her again when the elves had taken her away, and the thought of being separated from her again, even by a mere wall, tore at him.

  “Go to her,” Alistair urged, reading him perfectly.

  Lucyan frowned. “Are you certain?” he asked. “You’re hardly recovered.”

  Alistair waved a hand. “I just need to sleep the rest of it off, and as much as I appreciate your concern, the idea of you watching me while I sleep is a bit disconcerting. Besides, I know you’re beginning to feel the effects of the anti-dragon spell. Touching Dareena helps ward off the symptoms, especially if you’re not wearing any clothing.”

  “Really?” Lucyan’s eyebrows rose at the suggestive tone in Alistair’s voice. “You don’t mind?”

  Alistair snorted. “Give me thirty seconds and I’ll be unconscious again,” he said. Indeed, his eyelids fluttered. “She’s missed you fiercely, Lucyan,” he mumbled. “Go to her.”

  “Thank you, brother.” Lucyan leaned over and kissed his brother’s forehead as he slipped back into sleep. He tucked the covers around Alistair, then opened the adjoining door connecting their rooms. Hopefully the guards wouldn’t come in to look for him, but if they did, he would just tell them he went to check on Dareena.

  “Lucyan?” Dareena asked sleepily as he lifted the covers. Her eyes widened as she noticed he was stark naked—he’d stripped off his clothes before approaching the bed. “I thought you were watching Alistair?”

  “He woke up briefly, then told me to go snuggle with you to conserve my strength before he passed out again,” Lucyan said, pulling her against him. “At the rate he’s healing, I suspect he shall be right as rain in the morning.”

  “Thank the gods,” Dareena said fervently, hugging Lucyan tight. They stayed there for a long moment, simply savoring their embrace. Lucyan breathed in Dareena’s scent, and his chest loosened. Even with her nightshift in the way, her touch was making him feel better.

  “Alistair said that skin-to-skin contact was best to combat the effects of the anti-dragon spell,” Lucyan said, toying with the hem of Dareena’s nightshift. Slowly, he pushed the thin cloth up her leg, his hand ski
mming the silky-smooth skin of her thigh.

  “Did he?” she purred, leaning into him. Lucyan’s blood thrummed in his veins as he felt her nipples harden beneath the fabric, and he hissed when she nipped at his chin. “How much skin?”

  “He didn’t specify,” Lucyan said, his hands sliding up her ribcage. Dareena gasped as he cupped her breast, and he smiled wolfishly at her. “But I’m thinking we should try for as much skin as possible. We wouldn’t want me getting weaker, would we?”

  “No, of course not,” Dareena said breathlessly. She lifted her arms above her head so Lucyan could pull the nightshift over her head, then wrapped them around him and kissed him deeply. Lucyan growled at the taste of her as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his cock hardening even more as it pressed against her hip. She felt so fucking good in his arms, even better than he last remembered. And his last memories of them in bed together were pretty damn good.

  “If we were back home,” Lucyan said, rolling Dareena onto her back, “I would make you scream loud enough to wake the stable boy.” He cupped her breast, and she moaned softly when he slid his thumb over her taut nipple. “But since we’re in enemy territory, we’ll have to be a little more discreet.”

  Dareena’s eyes blazed as she reached for the pillow next to her head. “Do whatever you want to me, Lucyan,” she panted, stripping off the pillow case. “The guards won’t be able to hear a thing.”

  Lucyan chuckled as she balled the pillowcase up and stuffed it into her mouth. “I remember how shy you were when you first came to the castle,” he said, gently massaging her nipples. She arched into his hands, the cloth muffling her moan. “And now look at you. You’re wanton now,” he said, leaning in to bite down on her left nipple.

  Dareena moaned again, her sounds of pleasure loud enough only for Lucyan to hear. She rubbed herself shamelessly against him as he licked and sucked her nipples, and Lucyan sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of her wet pussy sliding against his thigh. He reached between them to slide his thumb along her slippery folds, and her hips came off the bed, seeking out more. Part of Lucyan wanted to draw this out, but a larger part of him wanted to feel her come beneath him, watch her fall apart as she screamed her pleasure into that self-imposed gag, so he stroked her faster, finding her sweet spot with ease. In no time her eyes glazed over, color spilling across her cheeks as she strained against him, seeking that release.