Caress of Fire (Dawn of Dragons Book 2)

by Mary Auclair

  Her small hands went to the waist of his pants and she deftly opened the fastening there. His long, thick shaft broke free and it twitched under her touch. She took the time to look at it, its honey-colored skin and the tip, round and already pearling with a drop of pre-cum. She ran her fingers along the length of his shaft, then cupped the soft sac of his balls.

  “Marielle.” Fedryc’s voice was hoarse, and she wasn’t surprised to see his pupils slashing vertical when she looked up into his eyes. “I will take you now.”

  His eyes flashed when she lifted a small half smile to him, then shook her head. Her heart fluttered like a trapped beast inside her ribcage, but she needed this.

  “I want to explore you.” She spread her fingers and gently squeezed the already thick sac of his balls, and was rewarded by Fedryc’s sharp intake of air. His pupils flashed thin then wide again, and he nodded wordlessly.

  Marielle looked down at the length of him. He was so long and so thick that it took both hands to completely cover him, and when she wrapped her fingers around him, they barely closed halfway around his thickness. It was mind-boggling to think that he fit entirely inside her, but the mere thought made her core clench in anticipation.

  Yes, she wanted that thick, long shaft pounding inside her with all the savagery she knew he could give her. But before that, she wanted to touch and taste him, to know every inch of him until nothing could erase it from her memory.

  She watched as another pearl of liquid came out of the rounded the tip of his cock as she trailed her fingers up the length of him. She wanted to taste him, like he had tasted her.

  Marielle knelt in front of him and looked up to Fedryc as she pulled his red silk pants down, then threw them away in a corner. He stood frozen, mesmerized as she brought her mouth closer to his throbbing cock. His eyes were two pools of pure silver and his breathing was heavy as she looked up at him. He kept silent as she brought her mouth closer until the tip of her tongue touched the pearl of pre-cum at the tip of his shaft.

  His taste was male and good, a bit salty, and it made her mouth water. Marielle closed her lips around the tip of Fedryc’s sex and sucked gently on it to draw more fluid.

  A violent shiver escaped his lips and his hand closed around the back of her hair but he didn’t pull her in. He was giving her the reins to control this encounter, and she was grateful for it.

  Marielle ran the tip of her tongue along Fedryc’s hard shaft, from the base to the tip, then took him all in her mouth, sucking with a loud noise. He shuddered and growled, his powerful body rippling with pleasure and restraint.

  She knew she was pushing him to the edge, to that raw state where he was more beast than man, and it made the pool of wetness between her thighs ache all the more. She wanted him savage, she wanted him as he was when the veneer of civilization was yanked away.

  Marielle sucked on Fedryc’s cock, greedily lapping over, under and along the ultra-sensitive tip of it while her fingers ran along the length of his shaft, occasionally caressing the now tight balls beneath.

  Fedryc’s hand clenched in her hair and he started to rock back and forth, pushing inside her mouth, deeper and deeper, until she had to breathe slowly through her nose.

  Then he let go of her hair and pulled away.

  Marielle looked up, startled, and a jolt of fear and arousal skittered across her skin at the sight of him. His eyes gleamed with heat and his muscles were taut along his arms and shoulders, but it was his face that wore the change she had foolishly sought. His cheekbones were sharper, more reptilian than human, and his brows were deeper, more pronounced over eyes that shone with a savage intent, the vertical pupils almost gone in the pure silver irises.

  “Get to your feet.” His voice was more a growl than a man’s. “Turn around.”

  Marielle obeyed, her entire body shivering with fear and desire as she turned her back to the dangerous man behind her. He stepped closer and she could feel the heat coming off him in waves across her back.

  Hands closed around the neckline of her new dress, and in one single motion the precious fabric was ripped from her body. She cried out and tried to clutch the shreds of her dress against her body in an instinctive gesture but a fierce growl froze her hands.

  “You played with fire, Marielle.” The growl was closer to her skin, and hot breath blew over her naked back. “And now, you can only hope not to get burnt.”

  Fedryc’s hand closed on her ass and gripped the soft tissue, kneading her flesh as another hand reached just below her navel. His skin was hot—so hot that she felt pearls of sweat starting to bead on her skin as he pulled her into him. His cock was impossibly large against her ass, and he rubbed it up and down the soft cleft in the middle, making her cheeks flush and her heart beat a crazed pace.

  In the state she had brought him to, he would do whatever he wanted to her. She couldn’t stop him.

  The hand at her front lowered and a single finger entered her slit, and he pushed harder with his cock behind her, sliding just over her little puckered hole, when he found her wet and ready for him.

  “I will take you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”

  That was all the warning he gave her.

  His strong hands picked her up—one arm under her knees and one around her upper body—then he carried her to the bedroom in a few long strides. He threw her down on the mattress roughly, climbing over her immediately.

  Marielle lay on her back, her knees up and apart as Fedryc glared at her, his cock large and throbbing. Her shiver of fear turned into an unbearable need as he pulled her legs wide apart and glanced down at her, then hooked her knees over his shoulders, lifting her ass off the mattress.

  She was completely powerless, unable to move or look away as Fedryc tested her readiness using the blunt tip of his large cock along her slit. He looked up to her face as he pushed inside her in one long, deep motion. The position she was in made her feel every inch of his hard flesh inside her. He tilted her until he was embedded to the balls, thighs spread wide on either side of his neck, then paused as she breathed deeply, allowing her body time to adapt to his size.

  Then he pulled back completely and pierced her again, pushing as deep and hard as the first time. Then again.

  Sensations built inside Marielle fast at the thrust of Fedryc’s large, hard length, hitting all her nerve endings and making her pant with the need for release. Her core squeezed and clenched around his cock and she felt like she was going to die if she didn’t come—right now.

  Then he slid his hand between her thighs and his thumb rubbed over her little bundle of nerves, never stopping his pounding.

  Marielle screamed as a shattering climax ran through her body. She could feel wave after wave of rapture taking her flesh as her core clenched around Fedryc’s hard sex.

  When she fell silent and limp in his hands, he turned her over so fast that she was unsure where she was for a second. He held her hips high with his large, strong hands and, in a hard, deep push, entered her from that position.

  Fedryc pounded into her again, then again. And then he pushed deeper than ever, his cock embedding inside her, deep in her belly as he roared above her head, hot semen spilling inside her womb.

  It was a long time before he released her. Marielle collapsed on her side on top of the blanket, exhausted and more replete than she had ever thought possible. At her back, Fedryc pulled her into his warmth, and his large hand petted her hair in slow, soft motions that made her moan with pleasure. She snuggled closer, and a heavy curtain of darkness fell over her mind and body. She hadn’t slept a full night since finding Lord Aymond in the throne room, and now that she lay in Fedryc’s arms, she felt secure for the first time in what felt like years. Or ever. She had never felt so safe—not since her father had died leaving her to care for herself and Devan.

  As the black cloud of sleep washed over her, Fedryc lifted the hair covering her nape and placed a kiss there, softly, then nestled his face at the back of her head.r />
  Before her mind went completely blank, a smile stretched over her lips.

  Marielle opened her eyes as a finger traced the shape of her jaw. She turned to stare into the most beautiful silver eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Good morning, my Draekarra.”

  Fedryc smiled softly, and Marielle stared at him. He was a puzzle she could never solve, he’d gone from the cold-hearted High Lord to the raging Draekon and now this man looking at her with a tenderness that made her heart swell and her mind want nothing more than to live in a daydream. He was impossible, yet here he was. And she was his.

  “You snored again.” His lips lifted higher when she scoffed and punched him playfully on the shoulder. “I swear. Like an old drover.”

  Marielle laughed, then sat up in bed. His eyes trailed over her body, and a now familiar hunger painted his features. Arousal immediately rose inside Marielle and she lay back on the bed, lifting her arms above her head as she bit her lower lip. “I’m not ready to get up yet.”

  “I’m sorry, little firebrand,” Fedryc’s eyes raked down her body with regret. “But I have much to do. I shouldn’t have stayed in bed this late as it is. I just couldn’t escape your snoring.”

  Marielle laughed, shaking her head as she went to forage in the drawers, now filled with an assortment of garments the likes of which she’d never owned before. Her fingers slid over the cream fabric of a long nightgown and she slipped it over her head as she turned to look at Fedryc. He was already pulling his shirt over his torso, his eyes remote, full of the troubles of a kingdom she knew little about except for the low streets of its heartless capital.

  A knock at the door had them both turning around.

  “Not now,” Fedryc growled at whoever had disturbed them.

  The door opened anyway and a tall Draekon man made his way inside. He looked at Marielle, then Fedryc, blushing slightly before looking away. Marielle had the distinct impression this man knew Fedryc well or he would never have entered the private apartments like that. She pulled a dressing gown over her shoulders to ease the Draekon man’s discomfort and came to stand next to Fedryc.

  “Henron, what is it?” Fedryc spoke with the familiarity of one who knew the other man well. “You’re making my Draekarra uncomfortable.”

  “We found him.” Henron looked at her for a brief moment, and from the reserved look of pity on his features, Marielle understood he was talking about Devan. And that the news wasn’t good. “Our informant confirms he’s at Ignio Marula’s tavern in the lower capital district.”

  “He’s at the Watering Hole?” Marielle’s voice was shaky as she suddenly wanted nothing more than to sit. “What else do you know?”

  Fedryc sent her a sharp glance and helped her sit on one of the embroidered chairs. Then he turned back to Henron, who stood with a closed expression. “You can talk in front of Marielle.” He nodded to Henron. “She has a right to know.”

  Henron looked at Marielle for a long moment, then nodded, his face grim. “Ignio Marula has been using him in his fight rings.” Henron waited, and Marielle knew he was waiting to see if she would lose it. Start screaming and crying. She wasn’t, but she bent forward as if punched in the stomach.

  “He put Devan in the Pits?” Marielle shook her head as hatred invaded her entire being for the man who was hurting her brother. “He’s barely seventeen. He can’t possibly hope to win. He’ll die.”

  “It’s a pressure tactic to make sure you pay the debt,” Henron answered her, his voice soft, full of the kind of pity that scorched her broken, raw heart.

  Marielle lifted her eyes to the Draekon man she didn’t know, not bothering to appear meek and submissive. She was done playing games. “Of course it is!” Her voice was full to the brim with anger and hurt. “He’s a monster.”

  Henron straightened as she spoke to him. His inscrutable silver eyes showed little of what he thought, but he turned to Fedryc with a familiar ease. “The streets can’t be secured at night.” Henron spoke without looking at Marielle. “We will have to move at daybreak.”

  “You have to get him out of there.” Marielle turned to Fedryc as pain ripped through her stomach and tears came to her eyes. “No one who’s been sent to the Pits lives long. I won’t survive if he dies.”

  Fedryc looked at her with silver eyes that gleamed with a tenderness that ripped at the fabric of her soul, then brushed the tears from her cheeks.

  “I will bring your brother back to you. You have my word.”

  Chapter 12

  He could feel Nyra’s foul temper coming off of her in fumes of anger and violence as she landed in a clean swoop at the edge of the slums. Fedryc cast a long look around the hovels where the poorer citizens of his kingdom lived in conditions that made his blood boil.

  Faces peered out of glassless windows, haggard expressions and fearful eyes set on him and Nyra. The dirty faces of human children peeked through open doors, only to be pulled back inside and the doors slammed shut.

  This was where Marielle and her brother Devan grew up. This was where Ignio Marula reigned supreme over the poorest of the human populace. Fedryc leaned in and brushed Nyra’s scales with his open palm. The dragoness’ fury came up at him but he tempered it with his own purpose. All Nyra thought about was to keep Marielle content and happy by rescuing her younger brother. She would scorch these people without a second thought if she thought it was necessary to make Marielle happy. This was one of the many differences between Draekons and dragons. The beasts were ruthless, governed by their own moral compasses—savagery and violence nothing more than tools in their minds. Fedryc knew better than to hurt those under his care.

  How could his father have let this happen? How could Lord Aymond have let the human population live in such despair and deprivation when the Delradon quarters of the capital were ripe with riches?

  It mattered not. He wasn’t going to allow these injustices to go on any longer, regardless of the push back from the rich Delradon populace.

  “Stay here,” Fedryc instructed Nyra. “I will go see what Henron has found.”

  Nyra’s nostrils bloomed with thick, black smoke and her blue eyes blazed with a cold fire as Fedryc admonished her to be patient one last time.

  “These are our people,” he said with impatience. “They’re afraid of us. We need to show them we’re not going to hurt them. We need their trust to rule.”

  Fedryc left out his own anger and guilt at the state of the two races in his father’s kingdom. Humans and Delradon should be integrated as one people, equal on both economic and social levels, but it wasn’t so in Aalstad. Fedryc began to suspect it wasn’t so anywhere on Earth, despite the Emperor’s directives.

  Henron motioned to him, his silhouette cast in shadow between the low buildings of the slums, and Fedryc approached. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him as he walked closer to the buildings. The stench of poor sanitation assaulted his nostrils as he came to stand by Henron, whose face was carefully devoid of disgust as he stood next to a pile of human waste.

  “Ignio Marula is waiting for you in his tavern.” Henron motioned to a dark side street. “Apparently, he’s been expecting you.”

  “He has, has he?” Fedryc couldn’t disguise the loathing in his voice. “What have you learned about him?”

  “That man is a loose title for the creature,” Henron answered, his mask slipping for a second, revealing a deep-seated anger. “He’s the landlord for most of the slums. Makes the humans pay a tithe to reside in the capital, if you could call these houses a residence. He also controls all the illegal fighting rings, gambling holes and brothels in the city. He’s probably the richest man in Gelmor.”

  “And he owes his fortune to the human misery.” Fedryc nodded his understanding. It was time to put an end to the thug’s hold over his people, his capital. “No more. This ends today.”

  “It makes him a powerful man, with powerful allies,” Henron cautioned. “He’s dangerous. Do not underestimate him.”

&n
bsp; Fedryc stared at his friend’s face for a while. Henron was smarter than any other man he knew, and he trusted him like no other. In fact, Henron was the only other man he trusted.

  “Take me to him.”

  Henron nodded, and Fedryc followed him through a series of dark streets and even darker alleys until they stood in front of a rambling building filled with the drunken voices of many men.

  “This is it.” Henron put his hand on his short sword and glanced around. “The Watering Hole is Ignio Marula’s favorite tavern. It’s also his most profitable brothel.”

  Fedryc’s hands closed into fists as he nodded sharply. He knew why his friend had told him about the brothel being Ignio Marula’s most profitable. The thug had invented a very lucrative way for the poor souls who owed him more money than they could pay to repay him. He took a female member of each family who couldn’t pay their debts and worked them in his brothels, racking up their debt each month with an interest rate no one could get ahead of—until the woman was used and broken.

  This could have been Marielle’s fate.

  Fedryc’s nails dug in his palms hard enough to pierce the skin, and a drip of blood fell into the dirt of the alley. “I’m going in. Keep your men at the ready in case of any bad surprise.”

  “I think bad is the only thing you’ll find in there.”

  Fedryc didn’t answer as he stepped inside the dark, dank place.

  The air was thick with the scent of unwashed bodies, alcohol and smoke from men inhaling from strange, circular devices made of dried brown leaves. Fedryc could see men gathered around small, round tables, hunched over brown, foul-looking drinks, despair and anger folding around their faces in deep wrinkles, even on the young. Most of them where humans, but some Delradon were sprinkled here and there, sharing the others’ misery.

  “My Lord, what an honor!” a tall, painfully thin Delradon man called from the farthest recess of the dark space. Beside him was a narrow staircase tucked against the plain wooden bar where a sour-faced, bulky Delradon man wiped a glass with a stained rag.