Falthyris needed to move. He needed to leave this place. He needed to scour the desert beneath the blood red moon to find a female, and when he found her, Dragonsbane would drive him to rut her like a mindless animal at the peak of mating season.
It would drive him to rut her until either himself or the female was dead, or the comet finally passed in a month’s time.
He growled again and snapped his head from side to side. Falthyris would not submit to the comet, would not surrender his will. He’d seen what the Red Heat did to his kind. He’d seen the consequences of dragons succumbing to it, and he refused to become one of the fallen. He refused to partake in the degradation of dragonkind.
He was Falthyris the Golden, Falthyris the Conqueror, Scourge of the Sands, Lord of the Shimmering Peaks and all the lands visible from their summits. He was called Glassmaker and Firestorm. His fury was the harsh desert wind, his spirit a fiery cyclone. No force would bring him low—especially not this comet. He’d endure on his own terms until these mountains had been worn to dust and the sea had once again swallowed the desert.
As though in response to Falthyris’s thoughts, the Heat intensified, skittering along his spine. Tension seized his muscles, chasing away any comfort he had achieved during his slumber. His claws scraped the floor harder, digging gouges in the stone, and his tail lashed out, hitting the wall with enough force to break stone and rattle fresh debris from all around the cave.
Falthyris held in his growl this time, but the air in his lungs stoked the flames in his chest. His heartfire roared in anticipation as heat built within him, quickly surpassing the Red Heat surrounding him.
Fury bubbled up from his chest, making his growing fire burn only hotter—hot enough to cause him pain. The comet’s first appearance had undone centuries of conquest, and it had been followed by centuries of watching dragonkind ravaged by Dragonsbane’s lingering effects. Though many of his memories grew hazier each time the comet returned, he couldn’t forget what had been lost, couldn’t forget that he’d been meant to soar over this world as its overlord, as the pinnacle of his species.
Though he longed to release those flames, to grant his fury physical form, however fleeting, he swallowed that desire. The unspent fire roiled like magma in his gut, increasing his discomfort tenfold.
Spouting dragonfire would undoubtedly have been a welcome catharsis, however small, but Falthyris couldn’t allow his thoughts to become so muddled by emotion. Fire that intense stood a strong chance of causing this cave to collapse, which would’ve meant not only the weight of a mountain crashing down atop him but reduced protection from the Red Heat. This lair had already been damaged enough over the centuries to leave its stability in question. Any more damage…
No.
He refused to acknowledge any limits to his strength of will, even to himself.
Wisps of acrid smoke curled from his nostrils. The Red Heat thickened the air further, its tendrils pushing a little deeper into Falthyris, seeping into his veins and warming his blood. A shudder wracked him from snout to tail, shaking off more sand and partially unfolding his wings. The fire he had swallowed moved lower and lower. All that heat coalesced in his groin.
Falthyris groaned as his cock stirred behind his slit, pulsing with a sudden, desperate ache. That faint crimson mist shimmered around him, flaring and fading, vanishing whenever he attempted to focus upon it. Dragonsbane was taunting him as though it had known all along that he would eventually falter, that his might and willpower would one day crumble.
He trembled with another wave of Heat, flicking out his tongue again—scenting for any signs of a female, eager to search, to hunt, to conquer, to rut. His cock pushed out of his slit, already slick with secretions.
With a ragged roar, Falthyris shoved himself up onto all fours. The sudden movement sprayed sand all around him and caused his back to slam into the cave ceiling.
The cave trembled, and stone cracked. Heavy chunks fell over his back and tumbled down to hit the sand bed with dulled thumps. Falthyris froze, exhaling and not daring to take in another breath. Carefully, he eased his body down. The feeling of weight on his back persisted until he was low enough for the hunks of rock settled atop him to fall away.
This lair had provided shelter for hundreds of years. How many times had he weathered the comet’s curse within these walls? Seven? Nine? Twelve? He could no longer recall. But it was apparent that those years had not been kind to this place. Or, more accurately, Falthyris had not been kind to it. The space was relatively small. He’d hoped upon claiming this cave that its size would naturally restrain him during the Red Heat, but that size now seemed to have become a liability.
Falthyris forced himself back down onto his bed of sand, willing his heartfire to burn hotter still as though it could ward off the Red Heat.
Thirty days was nothing to Falthyris the Golden. He’d endured Dragonsbane many times before and would continue to do so until the accursed comet had burned itself out. Falthyris’s heartfire would still blaze bright long after Dragonsbane was cold and dead.
He laid his head upon the sand and squeezed his eyes shut. He would simply sleep through the comet, as had been his intention. This interruption was no more than a minor nuisance.
And yet the tension in his muscles didn’t ease, and a new discomfort introduced itself—the abrasiveness of sand against the sensitive flesh of his cock, which had pushed fully out of his slit. Falthyris snarled and shifted his body, seeking some relief for his throbbing shaft, but he succeeded only in creating friction as pleasurable as it was painful.
Thirty days, he reminded himself.
Falthyris buried his claws deep, sinking them into the stone floor to anchor himself in place. His tail flicked in agitation. He curled it toward his torso, tucking it along his side to keep it from causing any more damage.
The Red Heat drifted through the air around him, seeking out every place in which it could embed himself, both in the cave and in Falthyris’s body. This was only the beginning. The Heat’s touch remained a curious caress, a gentle search, but before long, it would crackle like lightning and burn like fire. He could feel it building, gathering its strength to eventually overwhelm him.
Falthyris held himself as still as possible. The Red Heat continued its gradual build as time passed, the seconds marked by the steady beating of his draconian heart. At some point, the Heat began a slow regression. Falthyris tasted a hint of the morning sun on the air flowing into his lair.
Though it did not fade completely, the Heat waned enough for Falthyris to lapse into a brief, fitful slumber, filled once again with crimson dreams. That slumber was broken when the Heat flared and grew sometime closer to nightfall.
Throughout the second night, Falthyris’s breaths were ragged, his exhalations often punctuated by licks of fire. His claws had already carved deep into the cave floor thanks to his efforts to remain in place. The Red Heat grew considerably stronger and more insistent, gradually settling a faint but unmistakable haze over his mind.
He didn’t sleep the next day. Though the morning sun once again diminished the Heat, it was not as effective as it had been the prior day.
On the third night, he could no longer remain still. He crawled around his shelter like a serpent on his belly, unable to stop himself from raking his claws across the walls and floor. As the Heat reached its peak that night, he found himself contorting his body to furiously stroke his shaft with his fingers.
Shame fluttered around the edges of his mind, but it couldn’t find entry. Whether it was held back by his lingering pride or the Heat’s strengthening influence, he could not say.
He knew only that the rasp of his scales against his cock hurt, and it felt so, so good.
He couldn’t bring himself to rest on the next day. The Red Heat barely faded with the morning, leaving him to continue his aimless pacing, dragging his underside over the floor. Without thinking, he clawed chunks of stone from the walls and scattered sand with his tail.
This was no lair—it was a cage, a prison, a tomb, and he needed to leave, to get out. He needed to be free, to roar his mating call into the sky and hear it echo off the mountains.
Falthyris snapped his jaws and shook himself hard. He wouldn’t go, wouldn’t surrender.
A fresh ache pulsed through his cock, strong enough to make his knees weak. The Lord of the Shimmering Peaks would not submit to such base urges.
But with nightfall came a resurgence of the Red Heat, which quickly built to a new, terrible climax. Falthyris’s body trembled as the Heat forced its way ever deeper. Whatever subtlety it had possessed the first couple nights was gone now; it had already gained enough power to no longer require subtlety.
He thrashed his tail and swung his claws, gnashed his teeth and spewed licks of fire, but his fury was impotent. The Red Heat pressed its invasive fingers deeper into Falthyris’s mind, tightening its hold on him.
“No,” he growled, “I do not yield.”
Yet when his tongue flicked out, he tasted a new scent on the air, one even more difficult to ignore than the Heat.
Female.
He shuddered again, his every muscle going rigid, his claws slicing into stone. Whatever resistance he would’ve offered the comet was swept away on a wave of crimson heat.
Falthyris the Golden, the Conqueror, Scourge of Sands and Lord of the Shimmering Peaks, surged forward to claw his way out of his lair, kicking up sand and shattering stone. There was room only for a single conscious thought in his mind as he burst into the night air.
Dragonsbane has finally won.
3
Elliya dropped to her knees onto the soft grass growing along the riverbank. Setting her stone headed spear down, she bent forward and plunged her hands into the cool water, drinking handful after handful, relishing the relief it provided her dry mouth and parched throat. Rivulets ran down her neck and the front of her robe, soothing her heated skin. Though the sun had set some time earlier, the air still held a hint of the day’s stifling warmth, and she’d been traveling for a long while.
Once she had drunk as much as her belly could hold, she sat back on her heels, tilted her head back, and looked up at the night sky. The desert breeze wafted over her, caressing her skin and flowing through the loose strands of her hair.
The Blood Moon hung low in the sky, and the Red Star burned above it, impossible to miss amidst the other stars that twinkled in white and palest blue. Traversing this land—where the Forsaken Sands butted up against the Shimmering Peaks—with the Red Star overhead had been as surreal as it had been frightening.
Elliya had seen a great many animals over the last few days, most of which had been familiar to her. Their behaviors, however, had been unnatural. Creatures that usually emerged from hiding only in the depths of night had been out in broad daylight. Creatures that usually remained solitary had been gathering in frenzied groups, mating as though maddened.
And they were maddened. That was the power of the Red Star, that was its curse. She’d seen normally docile beasts battling one another viciously, had seen territorial battles between creatures that typically ignored one another, had seen blood. A time or two, she herself had caught the attention of uncharacteristically aggressive animals. Her escapes had been narrow.
It had required all the skills she’d learned over her years of hunting to make it this far without incident, and using those skills had felt so strange without the other huntresses. But a dragon was not the usual sort of prey she and her sisters hunted. According to the old stories, claiming a dragon required a particular subtlety, required seduction. A group of huntresses could not accomplish that, not when dragons took but one human mate.
For the first time in her life, Elliya was competing with her tribe sisters. For the first time in her life, she felt so impossibly distant from home.
No, it is not just a feeling. I have never traveled this far from home.
Four days. That was how far she was from her tribe. She’d never spent so much time alone. For four days, she had followed the rocky foothills at the base of the Shimmering Peaks, walking beneath a scorching sun, steering clear of the beasts that prowled above and below as best she could.
As lonely as she was without her tribe sisters, excitement still thrummed through Elliya. Not only had she evaded Dian’s clutches—at least for a time—but she was participating in the rare hunt for a dragon. Most of her people had lived and died without ever seeing the Red Star, without taking part in the Crimson Hunt, but she was amongst the fortunate.
Lowering her chin, Elliya took in her surroundings. The river ran through a rocky canyon that was lush with vegetation. Tall rock formations stood on either side of the canyon—and some within it—all of them layered with the stripes of slightly varying color. They looked down upon the water like silent sentries posted outside ancient tribal lands.
She’d scouted this spot thoroughly, had searched for signs of dangerous predators and animals that wouldn’t have been particularly threatening under normal circumstances, and she’d found nothing. This would be a suitable place to rest for the night so she could resume her hunt at dawn.
She removed her sandals and wiggled her toes in the grass. Just because she was alone in a dangerous world under dangerous conditions did not mean she had to forgo life’s little pleasures.
Just as she opened her waterskin and dunked it into the river, a great roar tore across the heavens and reverberated through the canyon, powerful enough for Elliya to feel its vibrations in her bones.
The little hairs on the backs of her neck and arms rose, and cold prickles of fear raced across her back. This was a sensation she had never experienced to this degree—a deep-rooted instinct to flee, to hide.
I am a huntress. I will not run, and I will not hide.
After corking the waterskin and dropping it onto the ground, she took up her spear and leapt to her feet—only to freeze when she caught sight of a massive beast soaring through the sky. The beast’s immense wings swept down, launching the creature higher, and its jaws parted to spew a jet of flame into the night air.
Elliya stood motionless, eyes wide, fully aware of what she was seeing but unable to comprehend it.
“They are real,” she breathed.
She’d always believed the stories were true, had always believed the legends her people had passed down through the generations, but hearing a story and seeing the reality with her own eyes were two starkly different experiences. Until now, dragons had been like the sun after setting—she knew it was still there somewhere, knew it existed, but during the coldest, darkest stretches of night, the sun was little more than a phantom memory, out of reach and difficult to imagine.
Another deafening roar shook the canyon, snapping Elliya out of her stupor. The dragon spread its wings and turned away, continuing in a slow, upward spiral.
She needed to act. Now. Needed to lure the beast to her.
And hope that it was male.
But how? How could she hope to bring the dragon close enough?
The answer came from the Red Star, which gleamed high in the sky—the star that had sent the desert’s creatures into heat.
Tossing down her spear, Elliya lifted the strap of her bag off her shoulder and set it on the ground before catching the hem of her robe and pulling the garment off over her head, dropping it beside her spear. She removed her loincloth and chest covering next. Crouching, she opened her bag and dug inside until she closed her fingers around two sleeper dust husks. She didn’t know if they would have the same effect on a dragon as they did on humans and other beasts, but she was willing to try.
All she needed was a single touch. If all went well, and if the stories were true, she wouldn’t need the sleeper dust at all.
And if they weren’t true… Well, she wouldn’t let herself dwell on that. Not now.
Elliya stood and searched the sky. For several desperate moments, she couldn’t see the dragon, and her heart quickened further. How could something so larg
e have vanished? Though the moon was red as blood, its light was strong tonight. Where could the dragon have gone?
Another thunderous roar sent vibrations through the air around her. She pivoted on the ball of her foot. The dragon was still near. She swallowed a fresh wave of instinctive fear and focused, searching the heavens, seeking any sign of the beast.
There! A patch of darkness cut out from the stars, moving across the sky at great speed.
Elliya narrowed her eyes.
You are mine.
Heart pounding, Elliya moved back from the water’s edge and lay down on the grass. The vegetation was cool against her back, and the pungent scent of earth filled her nose. Her eyes remained locked on the dragon as she spread her legs wide and slipped her fingers between her thighs. She found her pleasure nub and stroked it furiously. There was a twinge of discomfort, but it was swiftly followed by a thrill that coiled in her pelvis.
Taking in a deep breath, she called out to the dragon, her voice echoing through the canyon.
A flash of fire illuminated the dragon, briefly flaring orange and gold against the dark backdrop of the sky. The beast looked small now, being up so high—looked almost harmless. But when the dragon turned toward her and roared again, Elliya felt the aura of danger it emitted, sensed its unfathomable prowess.
She shivered, but it wasn’t entirely caused by fear now.
The beast sped toward her.
She bit her bottom lip and panted as the sensations built within her. Her sex contracted, her body tensed, and a brief flare of pleasure forced a cry from her lips. She dipped her finger into her channel to gather her slick, spreading it across her sex, her belly, and her breasts.
“Wind, carry my scent to the beast,” she said. “Let him come and claim me so that I, in turn, may claim him. For this is the time of the choosing, and I have made my choice.”
To Tame a Dragon (Venys Needs Men) Page 2
