Captured By The Royals

by Hollie Hutchins

  “I was planning for a nicer time,” he said, pulling her flush against his hips, where she could feel his length straining against the underwear. “But this works, too.” One hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head backwards slightly, so she felt the strain of each individual strand prickling her scalp. Her breath hitched in excitement, and wetness pooled between her thighs, enjoying the roughness there. The other hand raked across her back, nails digging into her skin, before aggressively cupping one breast and squeezing. She let out a low whine and moved her hips against him, not so subtly starting to rock against his sheathed erection.

  “Quite the animal, aren’t you?” he snarled. He held her still by the ass, long enough for him to struggle out of the last, offending piece of clothing. His breaths came short and sharp – despite his confident exterior, he was every bit as excited as her, and probably barely struggling to contain it all. With her mouth dry, her heart pounding even faster, she felt another twinge between her thighs, wanting, needing him inside.

  “Please,” exploded from her mouth, and she braced herself by the elbows on the bed, her eyes on the white sheets, attention on those hands still traveling over the expanse of her body, and his now bare erection pressing against her rear. She strained to look at it, but before she got the chance, he adjusted himself against her entrance, and hilted inside her with one sudden, deep and long push. Her mouth hung open in a wordless scream, because shit, the immediacy of it, just taking her without hesitation, and she almost felt ready to come undone there and then. His joy rattled out of his throat, a deep and feral noise, and his hand tightened around her ass.

  His fingers slipped around her folds, spreading the arousal further.

  She let out a hiss, bucking her hips slightly, wanting him to stop teasing, and to just take her, and her motions seemed to trigger him further. He no longer stood still behind her, but began to move, his length directly hitting the right spot inside her, with the angle she presented to him. Her fingers dug into the bedsheets as he increased the strength and speed of his thrusts over time, and she couldn’t control the sounds escaping her lips as he took her so roughly, so wantonly, and all she was able to do was brace herself against the storm, feeling that ball of heat inside her build up and up with each hard thrust, her entire world reduced to the haze of pleasure and sex that had consumed them both.

  One tiny adjustment, and he hit that special spot inside so strongly that she came apart with a scream, muscles tensing, throat closing around the sound, thighs shivering, her heat pulsing around his length.

  He didn’t last much longer, she observed dimly, as he kept moving in her through her orgasm, prolonging it, and her fingers ached with bracing herself against him, as did her arms. He stiffened behind her, his hands trembling against her skin, before with a sigh, he removed himself from her, and lightly tapped for her to turn around, so they were able to look at each other once more.

  “Wow,” Elena said, unable to articulate anything else. Also, she suspected she probably had the appearance of someone who was either completely smashed or had been struck rather aggressively by several of Cupid’s arrows. He wore a kind of lazy grin himself, and seeing the sheen of sweat upon his body made her want to lean forward and lick it off.

  “Wow,” he agreed, also apparently unable to express anything else. Looking into his eyes, into the desire still glazed there, she knew for certain that she was in big trouble. Because one time wasn’t enough for something like this. She needed far, far more than just one time with him.

  As if he was able to read her mind, he wriggled up close beside her, and the gesture made her laugh in a drunken way, before he planted his lips chastely on hers. The kiss felt a little like an examination, a little like a promise: him waiting for her to react, if she’d deepen the activity or leave it for now.

  She chose to deepen, hands sliding up to cusp his cheeks, loving the rough stubble there, and the smell of his skin beaded with sweat.

  Yeah. One time wasn’t enough. God help her, she was going to have a difficult time keeping her hands off Garek. Now his tongue swept against her bottom lip, a request for entry, and her mouth parted wider, allowing him inside. Their breathing once more became short and ragged, her palms rubbed against that stubble…

  An image jumped into her head. One of a rather puzzled dragon, with the question attached: what are you two doing?

  “Shit!” Elena ripped her mouth away from Garek as if his burned like hot coals, overshot her reaction and fell off the bed with a squeak. “Shit! Fuck. You think she saw everything?”

  “I...” Garek fell silent as Elena scrambled upright, now searching for clothes to wrap herself in. “I’m not entirely sure. It wasn’t like we were thinking to her at any point, was it?”

  But we were definitely thinking, Elena thought anxiously. Thinking vividly, with amorous, not safe for work images, the kind that a baby dragon certainly shouldn’t be subjected to.

  Evidently, Garek had responded, though the baby didn’t visually share his response. A new thought entered her brain. Okay. That makes sense.

  “What did you say to her?” Elena demanded, trying not to blush the color of a strawberry.

  “I said we were with each other because we were friends, and sometimes we want it to just be us two.”

  “Yes,” Elena said flatly. “Just friends. Doing friend things.”

  “Aren’t we?” Garek grinned, his eyes raking her form once more. He didn’t linger long on anything other than her face, and it felt respectful, somehow. She appraised him for a moment, staring into his light brown eyes, before climbing back into the bed and brushing away an offending strand of straw blond hair.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s not like we started off friendly. And I still kind of hate you for messing up my last big heist.”

  “We’ve been getting on better,” he pointed out, lightly stroking her face with surprisingly soft fingertips. “I mean, you’ve reduced your death glares down to just five a day, so in my opinion, that’s a great improvement. And sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

  Elena considered this, stomach churning at the thought he considered her as more than an acquaintance. The sex didn’t matter. Strangers could have it. But the idea of a friend? That did. “So…” she said carefully. “Friends?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding, a genuine smile ghosting his lips. “Sounds right.”

  “As long as you don’t give me any more jokes. They’re all terrible.”

  She matched his smile, though she couldn’t help but think in that moment that she wouldn’t mind being a little more than friends with benefits. Not that she planned to voice that particular desire any time soon. She had a hard enough time just coming to terms with the aftermath of her own reckless desire, and she didn’t want to give it too much thought. She only wanted to feel. She crawled back onto bed and captured his lips in another kiss.

  * * *

  Watching Garek do as simple a task as making a drink for himself over a lit flame was… interesting. Now that she was really paying attention, she noted the toned muscle under his clothes, the way his rear really popped out when he bent over to grab something, and how even a loose top somehow looked good on him. She liked his ruffled hair as well, it gave him the appearance of someone who’d just rolled out of bed and didn’t want anyone to breathe a word his way until he’d had something to kickstart his brain.

  Her father was very much like that in the mornings as well. Communicating only with grunts and occasional vowel sounds, until he’d had a good old mugful of swamp coffee, which in Elena’s opinion tasted like bitter thoughts and mud. Not her thing. In this place of quiet, far away from help, Elena found plenty of time to reflect on herself. Minus the whole prisoner thing, the guards watching, Garek, and the unexpected dragon hatching out of an egg, this was close to the kind of life she’d envisioned her life to go after her last, grand heist. Somewhere alone without the world bothering her, preferably with a lot less snow than what fell in
the grasp of what seemed to be a permanent winter in the mountains.

  She wondered if Yvonne had located her parent’s stall yet. If they were hauled in for questioning, if the stall was left to rot among the bustle of the Realm Market. If Yvonne had encountered difficulties entering the Realm Market, since after all, it wasn’t that easy to get an invitation. Elena’s signet ring only worked for her. If someone else took it, its functions would cease to manifest in their hands.

  I wonder if my mother will know I betrayed her, when she risked everything to come see me, to reassure me she was working on a way to get me out.

  Shit, she was a bad daughter. But it was also hard to focus on those kind of issues when she thought about how strangely content she was now. Not when overthinking her situation. Just when she looked at Garek doing something perfectly ordinary. When she didn’t crave her sealed magic or think about the soupy blackness where memories should have been.

  The now was all that mattered.

  * * *

  Outside the house, the dragon lay on her belly, tail twitching as she experienced some kind of dream. Sometimes she made little snuffling noises, but otherwise seemed content by the dying embers of the bonfires used to keep her warm. Her dreams usually took on qualities of the human she was bound to, absorbing their thoughts and images, the ones they dared share, and sometimes others that they didn’t have complete control over.

  The thing that woke her out of her dreams of flight was the unerring, tingling sensation of wrongness. Her great yellow-gold eyes scanned the skies, where snow still gently tumbled from ethereal heights, some of it landing upon her exposed snout. She picked up on words, images in a language different from the humans, but understandable to her.

  Kill the queen. Find the hatchling, kill her before she matures! Images of a golden egg being crushed under huge claws flooded her mind, along with other images, of a baby golden queen, with sharp teeth wrapping around her neck, and biting down until all the life seeped out. The images were violent, bloody, and she understood all the destruction and imagery that followed. Dragons hated humans. Dragons believed the humans had stolen their lands, killed their ancestors for sport, and had built River’s End on sacred hatching grounds centuries ago.

  The greatest offense of all, taking away the holy nesting place, condemning generations of children to sickness and weakness, without the magic of the land to feed from.

  That was her birthright. To rise up, claim the old lands, keep the humans underfoot.

  A small growl rumbled in the back of her throat, as more images of death, hatred, anger and fear seeped through, bleeding out only to other dragons. No other species outside the draconic mind could hear the frequencies of thought.

  She had hatched to the presence of great magic. It smelled so delicious, so tangible and untapped, that it drew her very essence to it, and she bonded to two humans. Two soft little fleshlings with such latent energies between them that it kept her strong, and made her grow up fast. Even now, when she flicked out her tongue to taste, she sensed their magic like a fine wine caressing her tongue. Magic that was blocked off, somehow, so had built up over the years into an elemental storm of potential.

  Her humans were a little harder to understand than her own kind, because she didn’t grasp their language instinctively, but she was getting there. She’d figured out the rhythm of their words, the songs in their hearts. And it honestly astonished her to the bone, to see the small dragons working with the humans, and the special horse ones, who were supposed to have a natural enmity with dragons, uniting them all together. It unfolded within her brain as a cerebral crack of possibility. A future no one else had envisioned, and what the strange little water witch had only hinted at.

  A future where fleshlings, horses and dragons did not fight, kill, and curse one another with their dying breaths. A future where the ground wasn’t scorched earth, or the dragons broken and fizzing under human and horse boots, and Albalon a ghost country, with scavengers picking among the ruins.

  Her humans still thought her pure and innocent. She saw it in their carefully regulated thoughts, and it brought a smile to her soul. They wanted to “raise her right”, like she was worth the effort. The other humans hated her chosen ones, but they were hers. She raised her wings in a defensive, protective way, eyes fixed on two specks in the sky. All the hideous images of death and war came from them.

  Are you okay? Garek’s thought, along with projected concern teased into her brain. She instantly flashed back at him yes, and an image of sleepiness, which he seemed to accept, though a dubious air hung about it.

  She didn’t want her humans to know how much she knew, how much she understood yet. It already alarmed them how rapidly she grew and picked up stray words. If Elena knew that her dragon’s mind had already been scarred by heavy thoughts, heavy emotions… it’d likely hurt her greatly.

  Garek and Elena were her people. And a future awaited her people. Dragons and unicirim and humans alike.

  In that moment, the dragon knew her name. It hit her like a bolt of lightning, like it’d always been there, just waiting for her to uncover it.

  It wasn’t an Albanese name. She’d teased the information from Elena, from the strange lexicon of words and cultures and customs stuck in her head. It was a name they gave their women. A common name with a wonderful origin.

  A name that meant: victory of the people.

  Nicole. The name clicked, and it sent a mental shockwave that would assault any dragon’s mind within miles. The naming of a queen was big, big enough for it to sink into them, no matter how far away. Even those in River’s End would know it.

  In answer to her naming, she heard wordless howls of fury and fear from the closest dragons. No! She’s named herself! She has a filthy human name… this is sacrilege!

  Flaring her wings out in triumph, Nicole trotted out of her makeshift shelter, knowing that her smugness, her name would draw the two dragons to her like honey.

  Garek. Elena, she hummed gently to them, along with a brisk sense of urgency. We’re in trouble.

  She didn’t feel like trouble, though. She felt whole. She felt complete.

  * * *

  “Trouble, she said.” Elena dashed out, fully clothed and disheveled, followed by Garek and their guards, and the two nervous servants who had crept into the kitchen followed suit. “What kind of trouble? And what the hell can we do?” She scrubbed at her band, feeling frustrated once more at her inability to do anything. Garek caught up and rested his fingers on her shoulder, reassuring with his presence, even though there was a faint, nauseating sensation associated with it.

  “I’m sure it won’t be anything big… it’s not like many people can reach this area...”

  “Except the kind of people that can fly,” Elena said darkly, glancing upwards to see two shapes in a steep dive, heading directly towards them. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”

  “What’s happening?” The chunkiest guard asked, and Garek pointed to the skies.

  “We might be under attack. Any of you happen to be proficient in magic?”

  Two of the four guards stepped past them in their gleaming gray armor, nodding. “Air witch and water witch.”

  So we did have more than just walking punching bags, Elena thought, watching as one of the guards lifted into the air as if suspended by strings, and the other began moving their hands, leaving blurry trails of red in the air.

  “The queen warned us,” Elena continued, rapidly heading to the baby. “But I don’t think she can fly yet and escape...” Now more than ever, Elena felt inherently useless with her contained magic. Not that she saw how exactly they’d be able to stop this attack.

  How did they know?

  A stray thought from the baby dragon reached them. I know my name. Garek and Elena glanced at one another – both were hearing this at the same time. I know my name; and so do they. Accompanied was the emotion and image of the dragon sending out a wave like an expanding shield, buzzing excitement in her, and anger from th
ose within the vicinity to hear the name.

  Which made Elena snort out a laugh in spite of herself. “Seriously, she called herself Nicole?” When Garek stared at her curiously, she composed herself enough to say, “Uh, it’s a pretty common human name back on earth. It’s not really a name I’d expect a queen dragon to have.”

  “What did you expect her to have?” Garek asked, now standing by Nicole, who nuzzled at his head with her large snout.

  “Not that one.”

  The dragon, freshly named Nicole, didn’t seem so bothered by the two potential attackers, even though it signaled that their so called safe spot in the mountains wasn’t so safe anymore. She kept opening and closing her wings in nervous excitement, the energy running high, infecting the humans as well. A soft growl rumbled in her throat, and Elena swore she felt her own bones vibrate from the sound.

  Was Nicole planning to fight the dragons? She was far too young, far too small in comparison to them. However, Elena sensed something else. Nicole was… breathing them in. She saw a brief glimmer of it in the dragon’s mind from an errant thought. Her and Garek caught in what looked like turbulent winds, and Nicole inhaling in the winds as if they infused her with life. Smoke from a cigarette, oxygen from a tank. It was the first time Elena had ever seen anything past simpler, admiring thoughts from the dragon, and a shiver of unease went through her.

  The air witch worked with the water witch, who turned his water into glinting icicles, to shoot off, propelled by additional windburst towards the attackers. The attackers swerved with ease, and their jaws opened, spouting massive plumes of fire towards the humans. Elena’s whole world turned to a blaze of fire, and the brush of intense heat near her skin. The water and air witch lit up instantly, and writhed in the flames for only a few seconds, before slumping onto the snow hardened ground. The other two guards received the same treatment, and Elena could only watch in horror as they burned, and the smell of cooking meat reached her nostrils. The only reason Elena and Garek were safe was because Nicole had surged forward, her wings covering them both. The heat had passed over them, leaving only the faint suggestion of what might have happened warming up their skins. Nicole tilted her head upwards, before opening her jaw to spit out flame in return. It would have been impressive, but Nicole could only manage a tiny plume of bright blue flame, as opposed to the yellow-orange of the attackers.