The Dragon's Ambivalent Sacrifice: a Dragon Shifter Romance (The Last Dragons Book 2)

by Ines Johnson

  His to protect.

  “You said I'm your sacrifice," she said.

  "You are,” Beryl confirmed.

  "Are you going to eat me?”

  A wicked smile spread across his face.

  Poppy’s face contorted into misery. “Please, please don’t. I’m a good worker. I’ll clean for you. I can cook, not well, but I’ll try. I can do your laundry, and I promise not to burn anything.”

  “My beautiful, little one. You won’t have to lift a finger for the rest of your life. I'll take care of everything."

  He brushed his lips across hers. Not in a proper kiss. Barely a taste. He just needed to know how she felt.

  She was as soft as he imagined. The little gasp that escaped her mouth was so sweet. He could live off the taste of her flesh for the rest of his days and never go hungry.

  His beast reared up. The dragon had been calm for a moment. But now that it had its first taste of its mate, it was rampaging to get out again.

  Beryl had wanted to take his time with her. To smooth the rest of the fear in her eyes away. But neither man nor beast could wait for a second longer to take what was theirs.

  "I'm going to mark you now so that none of my other brothers try to claim you."

  He opened his mouth. The dragon roared as his incisors lengthened. Before he tasted her flesh, he tasted her fear. Her whimper filled his ears. The crease in her brow stretched in terror. But he could not stop himself.

  He struck her shoulder with his teeth. Biting hard until he met bone, sinking his scent deep into her body until his essence pumped through her veins. The marking was a give and take. As he fed his soul into her, his heartbeat synched with hers. As much as he’d taken her as a mate, she’d taken him too. With one bite, Poppy became his entire world.

  Chapter Six

  She was being bitten. A man with wings and green eyes was biting her. He wasn’t a vampire; he was a dragon. But he might still be the devil.

  That was the only explanation for what she’d just seen. Two demons fighting over who would get to eat her. She almost wished the other one had won. She didn’t want Beryl, who had shown her a little kindness, to now rip that apart with his teeth.

  Poppy opened her mouth to scream when his teeth sank into her. The sound died on her lips. It was replaced with a low moan of pleasure. His bite didn’t hurt. It felt … almost orgasmic.

  Not that she’d know. She’d never actually had one. Only seen it on porn sites when Bruce was up late at night, with the volume up so loud she couldn’t sleep. But this felt like what she’d seen in glorious Technicolor on his laptop.

  Her body was shaking, trembling. She felt her temperature rising in real-time. Like she was getting a fever. But she didn’t feel weak or weary like when she had a cold or the flu.

  She felt as though Beryl was infusing strength into her. She was floating through the air. But then she realized it was because he’d lifted her.

  She sat on his lap in a gentle cradle of warmth. He was all muscle and brawn. But he handled her like she was a delicate piece of lingerie not meant for the regular cycle.

  There were still scales at some points in his skin. Dark green like the emeralds all around her. Was she going crazy or did his spots look like hers?

  Her fingertips brushed against them. But when she looked again, they were gone. All that was left were his muscles, and there were lots of them. She expected hardness, but he was soft to the touch.

  And he’d stopped biting her. He licked her blood off his teeth and then sucked at his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled, like she did when she bit the edges of chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven.

  She’d never given a man pleasure. She’d never known how to. Never truly wanted to.

  When Bruce would come to her bed smelling of the streets and cheap beer, he’d simply part her thighs, pump a couple of times, and rollover. She was a means to an end, and she was fine with that. Sex was currency in the world she’d come from.

  The low grumbling coming from Beryl’s throat awakened something in her. She wanted to taste nice for him. She wanted to be a delicacy on his tongue. She wanted to be enjoyed by someone at least once in her life, even if it was in death. Because she had enjoyed his bite.

  Even now, her thighs were pressed together, seeking traction. Her nipples had pulled to tight points. They never did that unless she was cold. Certainly, no man had ever gotten a sexual reaction from her.

  With his bite, Beryl had turned on a switch inside her. She wished he’d part her thighs and pump for a while. She wished he’d grab a handful of her breasts and squeeze some of that tension out of her nipples.

  But he didn’t. Instead, his green gaze bore down on her. He was searching her face for something.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. I swear it will never happen again.”

  “I’m not hurt,” she said. “Well, it did hurt at first. But then it stopped.”

  His throat worked, as though he were trying to swallow a huge lump down. “I’m big, and you’re small.”

  Way to state the obvious.

  “But I swear, I won’t hurt you.”

  She believed him. But she did have a question. “Am I going to turn into a dragon?”

  She couldn’t believe the hope that rose into her chest at that. If she turned into a dragon instead of his next meal, maybe he’d bite her again. Maybe he’d want to do more with her than sink his teeth into her. Or perhaps, he’d sink them elsewhere on her.

  Beryl smiled at her. Her breath caught when he flashed twin dimples. His eyes were brown now, but there was a spark of green in his pupils.

  “Of course not,” he said. “You’ll remain a woman.”

  Disappointment warred with relief. She wouldn’t become a dragon, which was a bummer. But he’d also said she’d remain a woman. Well, that was good. Maybe he’d bite her again then.

  He gazed down the length of her body with hunger. “You’ll remain curvy and perfect.”

  Poppy shook her head, as though she could dislodge the misplaced compliment. “I’m not perfect.”

  Beryl’s smile faded. His gaze narrowed on her in displeasure. “If you speak about yourself that way again, I’ll be forced to punish you.”

  Here it came. Poppy didn’t even flinch at his words. They were expected. The violence that followed her around all her life had finally shown up in this place.

  What would it be? A backhand across the cheek? A hand around her throat? Or a new litany of insults from this silver-tongued dragon.

  She wanted to cower, but there was no place for her to go. He still had a hold on her. A gentle hold, but one that she couldn’t break out of inside his cage of muscles.

  “You belong to me now. Do not speak of my treasure as though it were trash. I will not stand for it.”

  Poppy swallowed at the vehemence in this voice. Her brain could not comprehend his words. He was displeased with her for talking bad about herself?

  What was she supposed to do? Pretend she was worth something? The best thing would be to remain silent.

  As he pulled the last of the ropes from her body, his T-shirt slipped off her shoulders, exposing her spots. Poppy reached to cover herself.

  “Did I hurt you?” Beryl pulled her hand away. “Are you injured?”

  “I …”

  “I was very careful with you.”

  He cradled her head in his hand. His gaze searched her face, roaming over her lips, then her cheeks. His eyes, which were now brown, flashed green when they met hers.

  “Goddess, forgive me,” he whispered, shame lacing his deep voice.

  Beryl brushed his thumb beneath her eye. Poppy winced at his gentle touch. Her mind flashed back to the source of that pain.

  “No, that wasn’t you,” she said, wrapping his thumb in her hand. The single finger was so big her hand barely closed around the single digit. “That was from … the last man I belonged to.”

  Beryl grit his teeth, but his hands remained gentle. “I’ll kill
him.”

  For someone who hated violence, those harsh words, spoken so gently, ignited something inside of her. “He’s already dead.”

  Beryl took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was visibly calming himself. In the quiet moment he took to collect himself, Poppy felt a peacefulness wash over her. It was a new sensation. She hadn’t had a moment without fear, without stress, without anxiety in her whole life.

  Beryl pulled his T-shirt off her body and shoved it over his head. Poppy didn’t hide her disappointment that his muscles now had a second skin.

  “Did he harm you anywhere else?” Beryl said.

  “No.” She knew the lie was easy to hear in that single syllable. But she didn’t want to go through the long list of slaps and punches and kicks. Or the daily verbal abuse. Or the unwanted sexual interludes which she had to lay there and take in order to ensure her survival. A strong man like Beryl would never understand what she’d had to endure just to eat every day.

  His gaze continued to survey her body, clearly not trusting her words. His eyes dipped once again to her spots, examining her skin there. The skin that was heavily discolored by her disease.

  “Those aren’t bruises,” she said. “They're a disease. It’s not contagious or anything.”

  Beryl brushed his fingers over the largest spot on her upper arm. “These aren’t a disease. They’re scales. You have fire in your blood.”

  “Scales? Fire?”

  He nodded, brushing his fingertips across them with something that looked like reverence. “You have dragon’s blood running through your veins. That’s why you’re perfect for me. My perfect mate. My treasure.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cradling Poppy in his arms would be the highlight of his every day. He was surrounded by gems all day. He knew how to extract them from the clutching rocks without damaging their sparkle. Poppy was all sparkle.

  Hair like flames that fell down her back in waves. He could see his mark on her shoulder, red against her pale skin. Far too pale for his liking. Did she not get enough sun where she came from?

  No matter. She was never going back there. She'd stay in his arms for the rest of his days.

  A squeak came from her lips.

  "What is it?" Beryl clutched her to him, searching for the danger.

  "Nothing."

  Hearing the lie, he studied her face. He felt the anger roiling inside of him, burning him up as though his blood was toxic gamma radiation. He was going to Hulk out and lose control. But instead, his dragon whimpered at what it saw.

  Poppy wore a wince on her beautiful face. She seemed to struggle for breath. She squirmed in his arms as though she were caught in a snare.

  It was him. He was squeezing her too tight with his arms.

  Beryl loosened his grip immediately. Catching her at the last second before she crashed to the ground. Her eyes were wide with alarm. She smelled like fear.

  Beryl dropped to his knees. "Forgive me, my treasure. Sometimes, I don't know my own strength."

  "It's okay. I'm fine."

  More lies. Inside his gut, his dragon was rampaging again. Why didn’t their female trust them? Likely because he kept inflicting harm at his every turn. Why couldn’t he transform into Bannon for her; a normal-sized, gentle man who was smart. But then who would protect her if he morphed into the weak scientist instead of the towering Hulk.

  Beryl stood, aiming to give her a wide berth. His dragon refused. He needed to have his hands on her.

  "May I hold your hand?" he asked. "I promise I'll be gentle."

  He gritted his teeth as she hesitated. Poppy looked at him as though she didn't believe his words. Finally, she exhaled. Wonder of wonders, a small smile crested one side of her mouth.

  Beryl held out his hand. Poppy placed her small one in his. Her fingertips were rough, the skin ragged.

  Had his precious gem been put to work in the human world? No longer. With him, she wouldn't have to lift a finger.

  He closed her hand in his and guided her out of the caves. She stumbled down the steps, so he swept her into his arms. It was late at night. The moon was a full circle overhead. Beryl let his wings unfurl. Poppy gasped, her hands going immediately around his neck. The move pleased man and beast as his female sought him for protection.

  He wanted to fly her around the entire property. But that would not be safe. Not during a full moon with an unclaimed human female. He’d have to fight every manner of shifter in the realm; lion, bear, wolf.

  He landed at the back door to the castle. They slipped quietly inside. Dragons were nocturnal, but the three human women inside would be sleeping.

  Beryl couldn’t wait to introduce his mate to Cardi, Chryssie, and Miya. Though Miya would have no response, she was still the only mother figure to all of them, and Beryl wanted her to see the new treasure he’d unearthed. But for now, he would keep Poppy to himself, starting with his favorite place in the castle. His workout room.

  Aside from the mines, this was the place Beryl spent most of his time. Lifting weights was more than a passion of his, it was a way of life. This room was where he sculpted his body into a finely honed machine.

  He waited for Poppy’s reaction, trying not to bounce on his toes with anticipation. Her gaze went around the room, taking it in. The weights had been left out and weren't on the rack. One poster peeled from the wall. He noticed the sweaty smell now. And in the corner, he spotted Ilia’s speedo.

  Why hadn't he cleaned before bringing her here? She’d surely think him a sloth.

  "It's usually much tidier," he said.

  "No, it's fine."

  There was that phrase again. It’s fine. He was coming to see that when she said those two words, she meant the opposite.

  "I like The Terminator, too," Poppy said, indicating the poster curling off the wall.

  Beryl’s jaw clenched hard. His belly roiled at her statement. He waited, hoping she’d add the words it’s fine to the statement. She didn’t. His mate was a Schwarzenegger fan. What cruel joke was this?

  Poppy pulled out of his grasp and started for the weights. "I can get to work on it straight away."

  "Get to work?"

  Beryl trailed behind her as she bent to the weights. She put her hands around one of the small twenty pound weights. He became distracted at seeing the curve of her ass that he didn’t realize her intention until it was too late. Then he became distracted by the grunts she made as she tugged at the weights.

  Beryl reached down and picked up the weight in one hand. “What are you doing?”

  "This is what you brought me here for, right? To clean your house?" She bent down to collect the speedo.

  "You will do no such thing." He caught her shoulders, pulling her to standing and away from Ilia’s underwear.

  Poppy’s face contorted in pain with a tinge of fear. Her gaze was wide as she stared directly into Beryl’s eyes.

  Directly into his eyes?

  Beryl cursed. He was holding her in the air. Her feet dangled a few feet off the ground.

  He sat her down gently. Her hands went to her shoulders to massage the hurt he'd placed there. He put his hands over hers to take over the job. She went stiff at his touch. The fear was still there, but the scent wasn’t as strong.

  "Poppy, I'm sorry."

  "It's fine."

  It wasn't fine. The tone of her voice confirmed it. "You are small and delicate. I am big and rough.”

  "I'm not so delicate," she said in her small voice.

  "I'm supposed to provide for you, to protect you. How can I do that if my very touch brings you pain?"

  “Are you sending me back?"

  Her fear hit his nostrils at full blast. His dragon peeled back the layers and found the sweet scent of her. It wanted to pounce. Beryl wrangled the beast into submission. He needed to listen to his mate. He needed to understand that scent of fear.

  "Back?” He frowned. “Back to your world? No, never."

  The sweet fragrance of relief wafted off he
r body, but the bitterness of the fear was still there.

  "Are you going to give me to that other dragon?"

  "Ilia? No."

  The remaining sourness was pushed to the edge of her fragrance. But still, it lingered. His dragon demanded that he get rid of the foul aftertaste.

  "You're mine,” Beryl said. “My life will be dedicated to your happiness.”

  She chewed at her bottom lip. There was the slightest crinkle in her brow, as though doubt weighed heavy on her mind. Why didn’t she look convinced?

  “What about the angel?” she said.

  “Angel?”

  “The woman with the sword who brought me here.”

  “You mean the Valkyrie.” Chryssie had also thought Morrigan was the angel of death when she arrived. “What about her?”

  “Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

  “Girlfriend?” Beryl knew the word. It was a human term. One he’d heard often in the movies and television shows Cardi watched. “She’s a Valkyrie.”

  That didn’t appear to register with Poppy.

  “I don’t think they even like men. She brought you to me in exchange for gems.”

  All worry and doubt fell from Poppy’s brow. To be immediately replaced with shame. “So, I’m a whore.”

  “No!” He definitely knew that word from television. It was a slander thrown upon women who either sold their bodies for money or who slept with more men than was the cultural norm.

  He saw how she could’ve gotten that idea with the transactional nature that began their relationship. But the gems were just the delivery service. He couldn’t cross the Veil. Now that she was here, she would be worshipped. No other man would lay a hand on her.

  “I see we have a new lady of the evening.” Elek’s soft voice carried from the corner of the room as he materialized from the shadows.

  Poppy’s back went rigid, her face blank. Fear no longer poured off her. Her fight or flight response was high, and the smell was overwhelmingly tinged with the desire to flee.

  Instinctively, Beryl wrapped his arm around her waist. His huge palm spanned all of her back. His thumb reached the right side of her hip, his pinky finger rested on the other side.