[Dragongrove 01.0] Mated to the Dragon King

by Imogen Sera

  She looked up at him again. “I did a lot of thinking yesterday,” she began hesitantly, “and I talked to Lily, who is always good at helping me understand myself.”

  She paused, watching for his reaction, and he nodded.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at putting my thoughts or feelings into words. I struggle to let myself feel things, which has made my life easier so far, but probably isn’t the healthiest way to deal with emotions,” she said, smiling to herself.

  He nodded, his face serious.

  Her expression grew serious again. “But since I’ve met you it’s been... difficult, because I feel so much for you,” she said, cheeks coloring but not looking away. “I think about you every day. I dream of you every night. I need you all the time.”

  Her heart was thundering against his chest, and he marveled at the sensation.

  “Helias,” she said, a bewildered look in her eyes, “I think I love you.”

  Thirteen

  “Tell me about your brothers,” Ingrid asked, sitting next to Helias on the couch in the library.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked, looking up from the book in his lap.

  “I don’t know. What are they like? Will they eat anyone here?”

  He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Tarquin might try, but I won’t let him.”

  “I thought you said he was your favorite?”

  “He is. We’re very different, but I think he’s good for me,” he said, raising a meaningful eyebrow at her.

  She smiled at that. All morning, he had repeatedly told her how grateful he was that she was close with Lily. “Hmm,” she responded, and wound her arm around his and pressed a kiss against his hard shoulder. “Is he older and wiser than you?”

  “He’s probably the wisest, but I’m the eldest.”

  She pressed her lips together. How had she not known that?

  “Are you much older?”

  “A few days,” he shrugged.

  “How is that possible? Do you have different mothers? Or—”

  “Eggs,” he said, interrupting her.

  “Hmm,” she said again. He was finally talking about himself, and she was constantly reminded how very different their lives were.

  “Tarquin is the youngest of us.”

  “And he eats people,” she interjected.

  Helias grinned at her. “He’s always been the most serious.” He paused, thoughtfully. “He was the only one of us who had found his mate. I’m worried about how he is now, so long after losing her.”

  “What do you mean ‘he found his mate’?” Ingrid asked, her interest piqued.

  “Oh right, silly humans,” he said, shooting her a impish look. “You know, fated companions, one soul in two bodies?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said flatly. “Do you mean like marriage?”

  He shook his head. “The fates decide at birth, your choices have nothing to do with it.”

  Ingrid shuddered. “That sounds awful.”

  He looked at her for a long time, and then pulled her against him and kissed the side of her head.

  She savored his warmth against her, but something was bugging her. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “If it’s decided at birth, then you must have had a mate that you never met before she died,” she said, after a moment.

  He rested his chin on her head. “Yes. I’ve thought of that often.”

  She clung to his arm that was around her, squeezing it affectionately. She was sad for him, and although she would never admit it, a tiny, horrible, selfish part of her was relieved at the thought.

  •••••

  Sometimes, Ingrid mused, a day was so nice that she couldn’t help but slip outside and tilt her face to the sun and soak up all the warmth and pleasure that she possibly could. That wasn’t why she’d come outside on this day, but when Helias had tugged at her hand and whispered in her ear it had been hard to want to do anything other than follow him. She just wished that it was slightly warmer.

  A chilly breeze blew across her bare nipples as she slowly lowered herself on him. She had learned quickly how to drive him crazy, and she loved torturing him by taking charge and going slowly. He jerked his hips then, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her, and she gasped before regaining her composure and playfully chastising him.

  She shivered violently as another gust of wind blew over her, and Helias was immediately withdrawing from her, attentively looking her over, asking what was wrong. She giggled and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Just cold,” she grinned.

  He breathed out heavily, looking relieved, and smiled at her. He retrieved his cloak from next to him, spread it on the forest floor and flipped her onto it. He covered her with his hard, warm body, his cock pressed against the junction of her thighs.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Mmm, much,” she smiled, stroking her hand through his hair, but she was troubled by his reaction.

  She pushed the thought from her mind as he entered her in one long, hard thrust. She moaned and gripped his back, and then his ass, squirming and writhing to take more of him. He filled her, stretching her, pulsing, deliciously rubbing every part of her. He moved then, not slowly as he usually did, but quickly and so hard. Her breath caught in her throat, and as he filled her over and over again, unrelenting, she hurtled over the edge of her release.

  She moaned his name. Her hips were shaking, her body burning, her thighs clenched around his strong legs, and still he didn’t slow. He was relentless, exquisite in his pursuit; loving her, fucking her, claiming her. He was holding her to him, desperately close, and the other hand was between her legs, stroking her clit in time with his thrusts. She was already unraveling a second time, and as she came again he did also, groaning her name, his whole body shuddering over her.

  He rolled off of her after a minute, glistening and gorgeous, and Ingrid was struck by how much she adored him. Physically he was everything she could ever want, of course, but she liked to imagine that she would feel the same way no matter what he looked like. But he was so much more; warm and kind and thoughtful and patient. She rolled on her side to face him, propped herself up on her elbow, and tugged his cloak around her.

  “You know I’m not going to run again, right?” she asked, and he looked at her in surprise.

  She knew it had been bothering him. Every time she expressed anything other than total contentment, he was there, trying to fix it, agitated and restless. He was clearly worried that she was going to decide that she wanted to be alone, and it was breaking her heart to witness.

  He paused for a long time, looking at her, and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “I guess I don’t know that, no,” he said.

  “Well I’m not,” she said, defiantly. “I’m happy right now. I’m so happy with you. I hadn’t ever imagined a happiness like this.”

  His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to worry all the time,” she continued. “I’m not going anywhere, Helias. I love you.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her head, and she melted into his touch, wishing he would respond.

  “Ingrid,” he began after a moment, “you can’t promise that.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he hushed her gently.

  “Our lives are very different,” he continued. “I’m so grateful that mine has brought me to you, but I don’t know what happens after this. There may be things that you feel you have no choice but to run from.”

  She shuddered at that, and pulled his cloak closer around her.

  “I can’t ask you to promise to never run,” he said, looking at her seriously. “Not when there’s so much to run from.”

  She kissed him then, fiercely and desperately. He kissed her back passionately, and a moment later pulled away from her. He cupped her face in his large hands, and kissed the tip of her nose softly. “I love you, Ingrid.”

&n
bsp; Fourteen

  They spent their stolen afternoon in the dappled sunlight of the forest. Helias had brought books, of course, and while he read, she wandered around her childhood playground. She tossed a pine cone in the stream and watched it spin wildly as it was sucked into a tiny whirlpool. She looked over at her love as he was hunched over his book, transferring notes onto his paper. He was lovely, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, his broad back shifting under his thin shirt, his pen thoughtfully pressed to his mouth as he reread a passage over and over, searching for meaning.

  She hadn’t known contentment like this since before the plague. She knew she had so many things to worry about, but right now she couldn’t even bring herself to care.

  She was struck with an idea, and came and sat next to him.

  “I want to see you,” she said, and he looked surprised but reached to remove his shirt. She giggled at that and stopped him. “I mean I want to see you. The real you.”

  He frowned, and regarded her seriously. “Are you sure?”

  She looked at him, eyes wide. “I think so,” she said honestly.

  He gathered his notes into his bag, stood, and held out his hand to her. She took it questioningly, and he tugged her along with him.

  “I need more room,” he explained.

  They walked a few minutes, Ingrid’s heart pounding the whole way, before stopping in a small meadow. He guided her to the edge of the clearing.

  “Wait here,” he said, gesturing back in the trees a bit, and then pausing. “Are you really sure you want to see? I don’t want to frighten you.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, trying to sound confident. “Only—will you still be you? Do I need to hide or something?”

  He laughed at that and hugged her closely. “Ingrid, I wouldn’t ever show you this if there was a danger of you being eaten. I’ll be me, just...bigger.”

  She kissed him then, and he strode toward the middle of the meadow as she retreated into the trees slightly. Right in the middle he stopped and stripped, and shot her a playful look as he set his clothes aside.

  And then, right before her eyes, he shifted, and she knew nothing would ever be the same.

  •••••

  In a moment, there was a massive dragon towering over her, filling her field of view with a deep, shimmering emerald green.

  Ingrid had to look nearly straight up to see his head, and when she did, he was already meeting her gaze. She saw the same eyes that had filled her with dread when she first saw them, and she finally understood why. Helias was bigger than she ever could have imagined; the large meadow suddenly felt closed in. Looking at him, she estimated that his wings would need even more room to open just halfway. She could hardly believe her eyes.

  Dragons weren’t even supposed to exist. Now there was one face to face with her, and he had professed his love to her just moments before. He was so beautiful, but in a profoundly different way than he was as a human.

  As she moved around him, she held his gaze, almost afraid to look away. He leaned down to the ground, and her gasp surprised her as she realized she wasn’t even as tall as his head. She reached out slowly and pressed a hand to his face, right beneath his eye. His skin was softer than she expected, and hot. The strangest thing, though, was the way he didn’t seem different at all.

  Underneath his dragon form, she could tell that he was still her Helias.

  She leaned forward and briefly kissed him next to her hand and then grinned at him. He stayed perfectly still, and she suspected that he was worried about scaring her. She was far beyond that now, though. Hadn’t she just been thinking to herself that she would love him no matter what he looked like? Here he was, about as different as she could imagine, and she didn’t love him any less. He wasn’t frightening, he was hers.

  She moved backward along him, touching his strange skin all the while. When she reached his side, she paused. As she stroked the leathery wing, she wished to be able to see it unfold. Suddenly, he stretched his great emerald wing, shrouding the area in darkness. She couldn’t get over the sheer size of him, and saw now that his wing was almost as long as his body. As his wing caught the sunlight, she noticed that it was streaked with gleaming lines of gold. It was gorgeous.

  She continued around him, examining everything she could, in awe of the immense power before her. She came back around to his head and stopped. Placing her hand where his cheek would be, she leaned in and kissed him again.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she said, feeling as if she were in a trance.

  And then, before she became overwhelmed, he shifted once more. After his transformation, there again was Helias—her Helias—still naked, holding her and kissing her and laughing with her. She thought she could see tears in his eyes, but his wide smile helped her not to worry.

  He pulled her to the ground with him and cradled her in his lap, holding her tightly.

  “I was so afraid to frighten you,” he breathed, his voice full of relief and wonder.

  “You’re not scary,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders, “you’re just you.”

  He nodded vigorously, and now she could clearly see his glimmering eyes, and she felt as if she had done something very right.

  He was still grinning as he laid her in the grass, kissing along her neck, peeling her clothes off as he tried to touch everywhere at once. He impatiently got her pants down and then licked her, soft and slow, and quickly and persistent, for a long time, and she was sweaty and trembling and delirious with desire when he finally pushed his cock into her, and she was overwhelmed the most exquisite happiness.

  He gathered her to him afterward, and they lay together whispering and laughing and dreaming out loud until long after the sky was dark and the world slept.

  Fifteen

  Caelian was the first to arrive.

  He hadn’t written ahead, so when there was a loud pounding on the front door one morning before breakfast, Ingrid and Helias had shared a confused look and dressed quickly. He had embraced his older brother immediately and, upon being introduced to Ingrid, had enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug as well. He smiled easily and frequently, and when he joined them for breakfast, she understood why several of the ladies had rearranged their seats to be sitting nearer to him.

  Ingrid liked him right away. It was difficult to not like him. After breakfast, she and Helias ushered him to the library to talk privately, and he spoke the whole way about his travels. Once they were seated and settled, Caelian gestured between Ingrid and Helias.

  “So, what’s this?”

  Ingrid’s cheeks colored and she scooted away from Helias, but he put his arm around her and pulled her back. “None of your concern,” was his response, in a tone that Ingrid hadn’t heard from him before. Commanding.

  “Just asking,” Caelian said, still smiling.

  Ingrid relaxed against Helias, but looked up at him with furrowed brows.

  Caelian was remarkably handsome, with light hair and bright blue eyes, and although his face was similar to Helias’s, it was different in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. He talked in a very animated way, his face lighting up as he spoke, and she realized that he looked completely unburdened. His features didn’t have the same severity of his older brother’s, and Ingrid wondered whether the difference in the brothers’ burdens was a result of personality or circumstance. She looked up at Helias and affection surged through her. She squeezed his hand and then excused herself, needing to tend to her morning chores.

  A week passed slowly, and then another. Helias and Caelian were holed up in the library nearly all day, and Ingrid was stretching herself thin with the increased infirmary duties. Most nights she fell into bed too exhausted to do anything except wrapping her arms around Helias before falling asleep, and if they wanted to have any pleasure at all it had to be in the morning when golden light first flooded the room and everyone slept. They would cling to each other afterward, sweaty and spent, until the noises of the house were too p
ersistent; then they would rise and separate for their duties.

  In the kitchen one evening, as Ingrid and Lily were preparing dinner, Helias swept in and cupped Ingrid’s face and kissed her hard, kissed her until she was breathless and dizzy, kissed her until she didn’t know up from down and left from right. He looked at her hungrily, desperately.

  “I miss you,” he said, and then kissed her forehead quickly. “Hi, Lily,” he acknowledged, and then he was gone, and Lily laughed delightedly. Ingrid touched her mouth, dazed. She hadn’t even set down her knife.

  •••••

  Two new patients arrived the next week. The first was a man in his second half of life who had been delivered by his weeping daughter and had perished the next morning. The second was a young woman who had arrived on a cart, unconscious; the old man who delivered her, presumably her father, had informed them that she was called Margaret before turning and leaving without a glance backward. After she’d been safely moved to the infirmary, Ingrid studied her state. Aside from the obvious boils on her pale face, her long, yellow hair was unwashed and uneven, her dress was threadbare and filthy, and her fingers were red and calloused. Ingrid put a gentle hand on her cheek and promised to take care of her.

  She set about washing the young woman’s hair while she slept in bed, and it was gleaming after being cleaned and brushed thoroughly. It was still uneven, as if the ends had been hacked off carelessly, but Ingrid felt uncomfortable cutting it without consent. She gently cleaned Margaret’s face, legs, and arms, taking special care with her blistered hands and rubbing a salve on her fingers before covering them with soft gloves. Ingrid finished and chewed on her lip, wondering about the woman’s life. She thought about having lost her own family, but while they lived, she had always known she was loved. She wanted this woman to feel cared for.