So why had he been about to attack her?
After wiping her hands on the damp grass to clean away any lingering sleeper dust, Elliya crawled closer to the dragon and hesitantly ran her fingertips over the arch of his outstretched wing. When he didn’t react, she moved closer still to touch the leathery flesh that spanned the gaps between the relatively thin, fingerlike parts sweeping down from that arch. While the rest of his body was hard, scaled, and just a little rough, his wing was soft and supple, like a finely cured hide.
She carefully lifted his wing and folded it against his back. It moved smoothly and easily, belying the immense strength she was sure it held.
Her frown deepened when she noticed his face was pressed into the grass. Slipping her hands beneath him, she lifted, meaning to roll him over. He didn’t budge on her first attempt. How could one person be so heavy?
She shifted her legs to provide herself a firmer base, gritted her teeth, and tried again, grunting with the exertion. His body remained lax in his slumber, one arm dangling as she finally rolled him onto his side.
Elliya had only seen a few males in her lifetime, one of whom was a but a boy and another only a baby. This one was unlike any of them, and it wasn’t merely the scales, claws, wings, horns, and tail that set him apart. He was bigger than anyone she’d ever seen, built large and strong, with broad, powerful shoulders and muscles that were well defined despite the scales covering his body. He was nothing like human males. He was…more.
He was hers.
She trailed her eyes farther down his body to his groin. His long, thick, scaled appendage had partially retreated into his slit. She bit her bottom lip and shifted her legs again, rubbing her thighs together and feeling her core clench. He made her feel strange. He…aroused her.
She’d only ever felt inklings of pleasure when she touched herself, but they had always vanished as quickly as they had come. Those sensations didn’t come close to what this male made her feel. The sensation he’d roused between her legs, that ache, had not yet faded. Just looking at him made her want to climb upon him and take his cock back into her body, to again feel that stretch, that fullness, to feel that overwhelming, magical sensation as he moved inside her.
Blowing out a long, loud, frustrated breath, Elliya turned her attention to his face. She brushed aside long, pale strands of his hair, tucking them behind his pointed ear. She smiled as she traced the tip of it, touching her own rounded shell with her other hand. She’d never seen ears like his. Nor had she ever seen hair like his—everyone in her tribe had dark hair, save the elders. His pale golden locks were in stark contrast to the thick black horns jutting up from his skull.
Even relaxed in his dust-induced slumber, his features were bold and intimidating—dark, thick eyebrows that were so at odds with his pale hair, a narrow, elegant nose, full lips. His strong jawline was studded with those bone-like spikes. The scales on his face were finer than those on the rest of his body and were softer beneath her fingertips.
How could anything look so human and inhuman at once?
He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“My mate,” she whispered as she traced his features with her fingertips, wiping away flecks of sand that had clung to his scales.
Her smile fell as she recalled the rage that had burned in his glowing blue eyes.
What have you done to me?
Those words had been filled with accusation, with rage, with pain. With the power of the beast that had first come to her.
Why had he been so angry? What had she done? He’d been the one to come to her during his time of need, he’d been the one to take her. They had bonded, and he’d mated with her. What wrong had she committed?
Sighing, Elliya pushed herself to her feet and walked to her belongings. After tying her loincloth around her waist, she picked up her chest covering, carried it to the river, and dipped it into the water. She returned to her mate and used the wet cloth to gently clean his face and wash away the bits of grass and sand clinging to him, taking special care around his slit and cock.
When she was done, wrung out the remaining moisture from the cloth, folded it, and dragged her bag closer to place the cloth inside. She paused with her hand inside the bag, eyes falling on her male. She imagined that he’d be even more furious when he woke and realized she’d used sleeper dust on him. She didn’t like the idea of binding her mate, but for the time being, she needed to err on the side of caution. There were too many uncertainties in this situation, too much of it—and him—was unknown.
Sighing, Elliya took the rope out of her bag and used it to bind his wrists together. Even relaxed, his forearms were thick with muscle, and the scales along their outsides were large and hard, more like plates of armor than skin.
She glanced at his face again, recalling the sharp, wicked teeth he’d bared in his rage—and in his pleasure. Her rope seemed suddenly pathetic, but she had no other means of restraining him.
When she was done, she carried her bag and spear several paces away from him and sat on a patch of soft grass, laying the weapon over her lap. The desert wind sighed through the canyon, mingling with the river’s steady burbling. Those sounds were in stark contrast to the other night sounds—like the often wild and undulating calls of distant beasts that were caught up in heat beneath the Red Star.
Fortunately, those other creatures sounded far off—at least for now. And regardless, she’d braved these wilds alone for a few days. She could manage to finish out this night the same way.
Listening to the desert sounds and allowing herself to enjoy the coolness of the breeze flowing down from the mountains, Elliya guarded her mate.
5
Falthyris’s nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. The scents of water, mud, and grass were so thick in the air that he had no need to extend his tongue to sample them further. They were joined by another scent, not as powerful yet even more prominent. It was sweet, alluring, and exotic, like rare desert blossoms under the light of a full moon. It was feminine.
His chest rumbled with a growl. Those smells were wrong—his lair was redolent of sand and stone. There was no fresh water within, no vegetation. There were no females.
My female.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as though the darkness behind his eyelids could swallow his thoughts just as it had his sight. It had all been a dream. The female, the encounter beside the river, the change—all nothing more than a dream, made more vivid and impactful by the Red Heat.
That Heat was wafting over him even now, pulsing against his scales and into the flesh beneath. The rhythm of those invasive waves matched the slow, steady beating of his heart—and his achingly hard cock throbbed in time with it, too.
The female’s scent, laced with the lingering hints of her arousal, seemed suddenly stronger—or perhaps his awareness of it had simply strengthened. Falthyris clenched his teeth and shifted, meaning to push up on all fours. That attempted movement was all he needed to confirm that none of it had been a dream.
This is not my body!
His eyelids snapped open, his muscles tensed, and his claws pricked his palms. He was lying on his side atop sand and grass. The sky was wide open above him, the Red Heat shimmered faintly all around him, and the blood red moon tinted everything with hints of crimson.
Growling, Falthyris sat up, using unfamiliar muscles to move his unfamiliar form. His hands struck his extruded shaft, creating a flare of torturous pleasure-pain that forced him to bare his teeth, hiss, and freeze for a moment.
He looked down. His arms were bound together at their wrists by a tightly-wound cord, his hands—his damned alien hands—overlapping one another. Beneath them were his new legs, awkward things with their odd ankles and stupid flat feet. How could any creature walk on such ungainly limbs? How had humans managed to survive for so long in such soft, weak, unbalanced bodies?
His tail swung in agitation, scraping over grass and sand.
“Are you thirsty?”<
br />
The sound of the female’s voice—his female’s voice—stiffened his spine and stoked his heartfire. Breath ragged, he slowly turned his head toward her. She stood a few paces away, her fingers curled around the shaft of a stone-headed spear, her thin, black brows low, and her eyes wary.
Framed by thick lashes, those eyes were as deep, dark, and unfathomable as the night sky. They were captivating. Her long, black mane hung around her shoulders, its strands curling above her chest mounds, which were each crowned with dark circles. There were intricate black markings on her hands, arms, stomach, and feet, their patterns more detailed and surprisingly symmetrical. Those markings somehow accentuated the innate grace of her soft little body.
His gaze trekked over that body, following the lines of her lithe limbs, her narrow waist, and flared hips, admiring the hints of muscle beneath her tan skin. A dangling scrap of cloth covered her sex, but when he flicked his tongue out, he could still taste her arousal on the air.
He squeezed his fists tighter; for an instant, he hated that bit of cloth almost as much as he hated this shape he’d been forced into. She was his, and he would not be denied any part of her.
Falthyris felt his bond with her. It was coiled in his chest, wrapped around his heartfire, tightening with each beat of his heart, urging him to go to her. The Red Heat flickering in the air brightened infinitesimally. Without meaning to, he clamped a hand over his shaft and slid his tongue out for another sample of her scent. His entire body shuddered, and his cock twitched, seeping seed.
“Do you need relief?” she asked.
He snarled and forced his hands away from his loins. “All I require is revenge, mortal.”
The crease between her brows deepened. “Revenge? For what?”
“You act as though you had no intention of trapping me,” he replied, pushing himself onto his feet. That he had to use both his tail and wings to find his balance on these poorly shaped legs only intensified his anger. “As though you have done me no wrong.”
She winced, her eyes dropping to the bindings around his wrist. “I tied your hands because of your anger, but I have not trapped you.”
Falthyris snarled and wrenched his arms apart. The rope around his wrists tore and fell to the ground, but not before he felt its slight bite against his scales. The female’s eyes flared, and she angled the head of her spear toward him.
“Do not play the fool with me, human,” he said as he stalked toward her. “You see what you have done to me! You see what I have become because of you!”
The female took two steps back before she stopped and held her ground, determination and challenge steeling her gaze. “I have done nothing to you.”
Falthyris’s heartfire swelled, and flames flared through his teeth. He threw his arms out to the sides, hands trembling with the need to destroy, to avenge this wrong. “Look upon me, human. Do you not realize what you have done?”
Those delicate eyebrows furrowed once more. “I made you mine.”
Falthyris opened his jaws and released a roar that had her flinching backward again. Fire blossomed in his throat, and he let it out, spewing flames along the riverbank and filling the air with his own heat—but not before he’d turned away from her. He could not understand why; there’d been no conscious thought involved, no decision made. His body had simply acted of its own accord.
His dragonfire scorched grass and melted sand, created hissing clouds of steam as it collided with the river, and made the air ripple. He felt it like he never had before, felt its heat across his chest, in his throat, his mouth, not strong enough to pain him but enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Another failing of this form, another inadequacy.
When his flames died, his fury had not lessened—if anything, it had been heightened by this feeling of impotence, of weakness. And she had done this to him. She had dared to claim him, had taken everything from him, and now had the audacity to act as though she did not understand.
Falthyris spun to face the human and lunged at her, closing the distance between them in an instant. Her eyes rounded, but his hand was wrapped around her throat before she could react further.
“You insolent, insignificant insect! I am forever my own master.” He clenched his hand, pressing his fingers and claws into her soft, yielding flesh, and she tipped her chin up, breath hitching. Tremors ran through his arm as he tightened that hold further—or tried to. The muscles of his chest and shoulder tensed, and the cords of his neck strained, but despite all his effort, he could not crush this human’s throat. He could not even press hard enough to draw blood with his claws.
The mating bond constricted around his heart and squeezed with all the force he intended to unleash upon her, making his breath catch in his throat.
Holding his gaze, the human lowered her spear. Her scent was stronger now, washing over his mind and reinvigorating the Heat’s hold on him. His cock pulsed with need, with unrelenting agony, and his hips swayed infinitesimally toward her. Falthyris clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his tongue in his mouth, to prevent it from slipping out to lap her taste from the air—to lap it directly from her skin.
His need for revenge, to make her pay, was swiftly being replaced by an ever more pressing urge to throw her onto the ground, tear off that offending cloth, and mount her. He shuddered with the memory of her tight sheath wrapped around his shaft. He closed his eyes as the Heat coiled low in his belly, intensifying that ache.
I refuse to bow to this. I refuse to bow to her.
“Are you going to kill me or mate me?” she asked, her voice as steady as her gaze had been.
His eyes snapped open. That simply, this little human, who should have been no more consequential than a speck of sand in the desert, had proven beyond a doubt that she was in control.
She had claimed him, and he was powerless to harm her.
Falthyris roared again, giving voice to the fury of a thousand years, to the sorrow of a fading race, mourning the destiny that should have been his and railing against fate’s cruelty.
He thrust the female away. She stumbled backward and fell onto the sand, and Falthyris’s flicker of guilt at that sight only enraged him further. He turned away from her, not allowing himself another moment to study her features, not allowing himself a chance to apologize and help her up—or to throw himself atop her and plunge into her welcoming heat.
The long, damp strands of his mane flew into his face as he spun, a few going directly into his mouth to catch on his tongue. He snarled and spat, tugging the strands back with his hands and inadvertently causing a new, stinging pain atop his head, where those strands were rooted.
Spreading his wings, he ran forward and leapt into the air. Breath ragged, he fought to gain height, restricted by the awkwardness of his physical form. The mating bond pulled tighter as he moved farther from the human, demanding he return to her. His stomach lurched repeatedly as he plunged and soared, and he clawed at the air as though he’d find some purchase of which to take hold.
His scales burned—not only with the Red Heat, but with shame.
Mortal creatures were beneath dragons, they were meant to cower in fear or flee at the very sight of beings like Falthyris. He was immense, powerful, a force of nature that could not be overcome by most mortal means.
And yet a single touch from that smug little female had reduced him to this. He was like a fledgling just learning to fly—though he doubted he’d been this uncoordinated even when he’d been fresh out of his egg.
He’d barely found the first shreds of balance in his flying when he reached the entrance to his lair, an opening on a large, rocky hill not far from the river. His stupid human legs did not support him through the landing, and he crashed onto the dirt and stone of the tunnel floor, catching himself on hands and knees with a snarl. He shoved up to his feet and stalked down the tunnel with hands curled into fists and tail stiff to counter the weight of his upper body.
With his every step deeper into the cave, the Red Heat radiating thro
ugh him intensified, and the mating bond wound tighter around his heart—but that bond was growing colder instead of hotter, as though standing in direct opposition to his heartfire and the Heat. He felt as though there were a tether between himself and the human, infinitely stronger than the ropes she’d used to bind his arms. He'd managed to stretch that tether, but it remained intact, and he was nearing the point at which he could pull no farther. The tension in that bond promised one thing above all else—it would snap back soon, and it would carry him straight to her.
Falthyris bristled, shaking his wings and swinging his tail, gnashing his teeth and expelling licks of flame with his exhalations. He would not go back to her. He would not be swayed by her or any other force.
He would not give in to the desperate ache in his loins, would not rut her again, would not allow himself to feel that acute thrill when he recalled their coupling and the sensations it had roused in him.
He paused when he stepped into the main chamber, which was immense from his new perspective. Chunks of broken stone lay scattered across the floor and in the sand bed, remnants of his struggle over the last several days. Each of those chunks had seemed miniscule to him before. Now some were as large as his accursed human body.
All because of the female.
His female.
Falthyris forced himself forward, into the depression in the sand where he’d slept for the last few decades. The mating bond pulled taut and took on a chill deep enough to seep into his bones. His legs itched with the impulse to turn around, to go back, to find his mate. The Red Heat trailed its blazing fingers up his spine, demanding he rut her again.
And his body, his heartfire, agreed.
“No,” he growled.
Curling his fists tighter still, Falthyris turned the fullness of his willpower toward his body, toward his heartfire—toward returning them to his natural form. His muscles tensed with strain, and his head soon throbbed with concentration. This was not his shape. He did not accept it, would not settle for it. Whatever she had done, he would undo.
To Tame a Dragon (Venys Needs Men) Page 4
