STONE DRAGON: A Prison Moon Series Romance Novel

by Marell, Alexandra

  She was flattened a little awkwardly against the hard planes of his chest, but pride wouldn’t let him put her down and try again to lift her to a more comfortable position.

  Dio, he’s going to strain something, but how can I tell him that?

  With her body pressed so close to his, her thoughts echoed in his own head, and he thanked her for the concession to his male pride. No Draegon female would dare compromise a male by casting doubt on their ability to provide and protect. Human females, it seemed, enjoyed an equal voice with their own males. A thought almost too scandalous for a Draegon male to process.

  Get used to it, Tharius.

  Claudia’s breath fanned his wet skin, her thoughts entwined sensually with his. A revelation to him that two beings might connect at a level beyond flesh and touch. As a youngling, it was something he’d craved. Then, in the time of war, he was glad to be free of such distracting encumbrances.

  What an arrogant fool he’d been. Who would deny themselves this?

  As he carried Claudia to his lair, he felt thrice-blessed by the gods.

  Chapter Seventeen

  No one ever believed a Corporation promise. But they all played the game, and pretended. Felons would naturally cheat their way out of a deal, so the Corporation saw no reason to do otherwise.

  “Orb.” Claudia mouthed a word Tharius understood and nodded towards a copse of trees, stretching out her stiff arms. I don’t sense much of the hardware, but Mario’s definitely there.

  “You know this Mario?”

  Not really. It just helps to put a name to those voices.

  Tharius nodded, looking relieved to have set her down, though he’d never admit to the strain even her slight form put on his untried muscles. They stood on the outskirts of a settlement. A ghost town. Claudia shivered. Tumbling stone walls thick with sprouting grasses, and trees growing where the original inhabitants once lived and worked, spoke of what were once humble dwellings. Few of the structures bore a roof. No windows boasted what passed for glass on this moon.

  A stab of sadness clenched his chest. Hers echoed his pain as he wound between the dark shapes dripping rain from broken gutters, his frown becoming grimmer, fiercer.

  “All so needless,” he muttered and reached for her hand. Still little use of his injured arm, he held it close to his side in a protective gesture that melted her heart. She tried not to think about the lack of pain. Not a good sign in human terms.

  So the Draegon don’t live in caves? Looking at the evolved male emerging from the half-shift, Tharius was starting to look so normal, so human. His dragon might be happy with a damp, rocky cave, but surely he wouldn’t be.

  “My dragon is content and at home in a cave, yes, but I will admit that our upright forms aspire to something more.”

  Tharius strode on, taking in the devastation brought by war and time. “These dwellings would make desirable shelter. Why do the incomers shun this place?”

  Superstition. Even the wyverns refuse to cross abandoned Draegon territory without good cause. For all their swagger, there’s something about a vengeful dragon ghost that puts the fear of God into the hardest of creatures.

  “If you’d seen us in our full glory, you’d have fully understood why.” He was staring up at what might have been the main thoroughfare of the small settlement. At the head of the rock-flagged road, a larger stone dwelling stood, crumpled and bereft. In her mind’s eye, Claudia saw smooth stone laid four storeys high, windows reflecting the morning light. A roof of hewn, flat stones laid apex style. Four chimneys evenly spaced along the ridge.

  Behind the house, the sheer drop of a mountain cliff guarded its back.

  “A house of Drak’Athis.” Tharius fed her the images, though the imprint was so strong, she’d have seen it without his help.

  Joined at the hands, he pulled her along with him, fighting the warring emotions raging inside. Joy at seeing his old home again. Sorrow at the devastation wrought in his absence. A tree pushed seeking branches through a gaping window opening, one of the heavy entrance doors hung crushed and clinging to the frame by one hinge, as if opened by a mighty blow from a medieval battering ram.

  “They were not so superstitious back then,” Tharius said, his voice laced with bitterness.

  There were fewer ghosts back then. They fear the dead, not the living. She tried to blank them out, but they came, regardless. Flitting shapes flashing in her peripheral vision. The first people going about their daily lives. The images morphed and changed into beings with open mouths screaming out their pain, tumbling under the onslaught of the relentless invaders. Claudia almost fell, weighed down with the horror of the massacre that took place here.

  “You feel it?” Tharius held her upright, unable to do anything to stop the onslaught. Not only the people who lived here, she was living the horrors racing through his own mind, too.

  You weren’t here when it happened? He’d been away, fighting with his troops when, as lord of this settlement, he should have been here, protecting his people.

  “We sent all the females away to safety. Hoped to get them to Dra’lera, sealed inside the sacred land with wards and spells. But then the wyverns turned coat and tipped the odds.” Tharius kicked at the broken door, smashing it from the creaking hinges. He leaned in.

  “I argued long and loud that we split the females, send them to safety in groups each protected by a troop of our most elite warriors. The elders would not listen. Ekala herself defied me in declaring she would stand with her sisters, no matter what the outcome.”

  “But I forget myself,” Tharius said. He flourished his arm at the gaping entrance. “I bid you welcome to the house of Tharius Drak’Athis. He would be honoured if you deemed it fitting.”

  Long, dark lashes smudged his purple eyes, casting spiked shadows on his chiselled cheeks. Too dark to see, but for her inner eye. His lips parted, the teeth more evenly spaced, more human-looking now, and more vulnerable, too. Witnessing this devastation would punch a hole in the most stalwart of men.

  “Thank you,” she said aloud, because he needed to learn the words. She inclined her head as poor, terrified Ekala once did, so long ago when faced with the stern-featured male who would take her first to mate and then to bed.

  “Your Ekala had a strong energy. I still feel her.” It felt right to acknowledge his first mate in spoken words. Even if he didn’t fully understand.

  “Spirits linger after violent death.” Tharius filled the doorway, imposing and commanding, like the lord he once was. “Does her spirit approve you?”

  She nodded. I think so. Was that her, standing in the lee of a broken wall a little way down the street? So many ghosts, it was hard to tell.

  “Then come inside.” Tharius lifted her again, only enough that her feet left the ground, setting her down over the threshold.

  Did dragons bring that tradition to Earth? She liked to think so.

  “Tradition bids that I carry you straight to my bed, but I fear my hospitality will be lacking in that respect.”

  “I don’t need a bed,” she said, and shuddered in anticipation.

  She followed Tharius across to the cold gloom of the empty receiving space, her nose wrinkling with the stench of rot and damp, cold stone. Like a flashing strobe, her mind picked over the past, showing her the magnificence of painted murals, decorated floor tile, and an ornate fountain murmuring in the centre of the space like an old Moorish palace. The images flashed in and out, fighting with those of age and decay.

  Tharius closed his eyes, one palm resting on the faded ochre walls, as if reading the story of what happened after he left.

  It was once very beautiful.

  Tharius’s chest rose and fell on a heaving breath. “It was.”

  On impulse, Claudia rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. Tharius turned slightly, surprised by her move and catching the corner of her mouth. The ember that had lain dormant inside her for twenty-three years, flared and burned hot, ignited by a matching fire in him.r />
  He threatened to suck the very life from her. Sealing his mouth to hers, he consumed with a bruising intensity that stole her will and had her begging for more. Once lit, this fire would not be denied.

  They parted, each of them sucking in desperate breath, eyes locked.

  Show me the master suite, she said, shocked at her own boldness. Already knowing it would prove an empty shell, like the rest of his mansion. The tattered remnants of an old woven rug hung from the wooden stairs leading up to ransacked rooms, the windows smashed, the drapery rotted to threads. A few sticks of furniture remained, but Claudia saw clearly the invaders hauling away the great wooden bed, the tables and chests.

  So sorry. Claudia stood in the space that was once his master suite, turning a slow circle, now seeing the solid comfort Tharius provided for his mate once he realised she needed it, then seeing only the lonely ghost of what it once was.

  “Crilla, the harp, stood over there. The music still plays inside my head.” Tharius groped for her, pulling her close. He leaned his chin on her head and they stood, listening to their hearts beating as one. Threads of ethereal sound floated on the air, calling to her.

  Where did you hide it?

  “In my cave,” he said.

  She felt him smile at last. “Where else would a dragon hide his most precious possessions?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was little time left before the curve of the sun crested the horizon to herald a new day. The morning light brought the Corporation and those viewers eager for the next chapter in his story. Claudia believed the spying eyes watched even now, but as the male urged caution, for his dragon it had been too long. The yearning to count his gold, to lay claws on the stash, proved too overwhelming to resist.

  “Can they see us? You say they watch us from space. Do they see us in such great detail, absent the eyes?”

  Very likely. I’m never sure how well spells work against technology. You had your cave protected by wards and guardian spirits before you left? Am I right?

  “You are.” They passed through the great receiving room, empty now like all the others, the furniture long stolen to furnish some other abode or simply break up for firewood. At the end of a corridor, they found a door leading to the kitchen block, where his cook ruled with an iron fist, and where timid Ekala never dared to venture.

  “If I listen hard enough, I can still hear the cook roaring at the spit boy to turn faster.” He dragged a finger through the dust heaped on a sturdy wood-block used to cleave great joints of meat for their feasts. “I preferred simple fare, but the eldest born of an elevated house must put on a show to impress his guests.”

  Claudia stooped to pick up a piece of broken pottery, turning the patterned shard over in her hand. The same with rich families on Earth. Don’t feel guilty because you survived this. Wherever they all are, they know you did everything to save them.

  “But did I have any greater right to life than they? I no longer know what to believe.” Come, we access my dragon lair via the wine and ale cellar under the kitchen.

  He spoke to her mind. If the eyes listened in by stealth, he was keeping that information close.

  This was his victualler’s domain, entered through a door in the rear pantry where they stored the silverware and drinking goblets, the polishing leathers and buffing oil. The empty shelves, lined with animal droppings and dust, stood as another testament to the looting that took place after the war.

  Lit by half-moon windows at ceiling level during the day, it was so dark in the early hours he saw only the blacker shapes of broken barrels littering the stone-flagged floor. The air stank vaguely of wine-must and the herbs used by his victualler to spice the beverages before taking them up to his hall.

  Empty now, if he remembered rightly the voracious appetites of the invaders.

  The dragon commanded better night vision than the male, but still in a semblance of half-shift, his eyes adjusted enough to feel his way along the wall, Claudia in tow to the racks lining one wall of the space.

  Your night vision will improve, Tharius. Give it time and healing.

  I hope so. How would he navigate this world safely, impaired as he was?

  The entrance is behind there. Claudia spoke with a note of wonder in her voice. And they didn’t know.

  So my dragon’s lair was not breached? Did she see that with her inner eye? All looked as it was, nothing disturbed but the bottles and flagons taken from the stacks and strewn about the floor after the invaders drank their fill. The racks were still in place, the false back hiding the doors behind.

  “I had it sealed by a mystic. But in the chaos of war, so many claimed mystic powers that I cannot be sure it worked. There was a time of confusion when we doubted even our closest friends and allies.” He felt with his hand, counting each row of shelves until he found the tenth and yanked the slat free. His architect had placed a lever that allowed the whole of the unit to pivot on hinges, revealing the stone wall behind.

  “Help me,” he said. “Two hundred years asleep will play with a dragon’s memory.” So many things he remembered, but some finer details of his everyday life eluded him completely. As if that life happened to someone else, and he must now learn all over again who he really was.

  Claudia closed her eyes, making him wait agonising moments for her wisdom while memories of his old life sparked images and sensations. A male talking to his steward, a female laughing. The mouth-watering smell of fresh meat and baking, prepared by his cook and served at trestles in the hall above.

  The stone, behind the third shelf. Claudia reached up herself to test her theory. Tharius covered her hand with his, searching for the loose building stone. He’d asked his architect to make sure the dragon lair remained hidden from all eyes but those permitted entrance. And those were precious few.

  “We dragons are a jealous race.” Nothing amiss in the wall behind the rack. No loose stones, no crumbling mortar. “We would guard our treasure even from other dragons, who are always seeking to increase their stash by fair means or foul.”

  Same with humans. Claudia pushed gently on the stone, her arm jammed between two shelves. I have it. But it’s stiff, I can’t shift it.

  Her scent enveloped him as he leaned over her and gave the indicated stone a brisk shove. A scent he must imprint on his body and soul, or risk losing her. He would find her wherever the Corporation took her.

  If they want us, they’ll have us. Claudia leaned into him. Then she gathered herself and straightened. All we can do is bargain with them. Will it open?

  “Yes.” It gave at last, pushing inward to reveal a small well containing the lever beneath. With the metal arm corroded almost to immobility, he feared it might break if he had at it with too much violence. The wine rack creaked, like a being rattling out a dying breath. Levers snapped, releasing it from the wall.

  “It swings away like a door. Stand clear.” A slice of light already glowed where the opening, hidden by a false back on the rack, led to steps climbing to the domain inhabited by his dragon.

  Can we close it after us?

  Instead of stepping away, Claudia put her shoulder to the rack. With their combined strength, it groaned and moved. His heart squeezed with relief at the fuzzy hint of light coming from somewhere above. During his long sleep, water had found its way in and coated the steps in a stale-smelling, slick film of esh-weed.

  “Yes, it’s designed to be closed from both sides, though how well the mechanism still works, I cannot tell. Be careful, the steps are steep and slippery, and there is very little light. Go first. I wish to be behind you if you fall.”

  You won’t let me fall. Claudia stuck her head into the opening, her gaze flicking upward and all around her. Looks like a long climb.

  “It is.” He crammed in behind her, the width of the opening barely containing his bulk. A deliberate design feature allowing no one to pass him if pursued.

  Do you have any clothes up there, Tharius?

  “My naked bod
y still offends you?” This close, his cock pressed into her back, and he took in a deep, steadying breath to stop himself seeking the delicious friction promised by her soft buttocks and the cleft between her legs. Thoughts of having her again, this time in the privacy of his lair, sharpened the mental connection between them to a clarity that left nothing unsaid.

  “You know it doesn’t.” Claudia lifted a foot, searching for the first step. He guided her, holding her firm by the elbow. When she widened the gap between them, he closed it again, letting her feel how hard she made him.

  “Stand still, I’ll close the rack.” Easier from this side, the rack closed by lowering a lever in the wall. Again, it protested, until finally, it closed behind them. They’d disturbed two hundred years of dust and grime to open a door that appeared to have escaped the invader’s eyes. Locked, but no longer truly hidden, now.

  Tharius lifted his face to the faint orange glow filtering through carefully placed chinks in the wall at the first turn of the steps, hewn from a natural cleft in the cliff. Soaring upwards to an empty blackness, the space echoed with the ghostly clink and scrape of gold on gold. Every nerve ending caught fire, remembering the slide of polished metal falling through his fingers, the way it gleamed and flashed in the morning light.

  Tharius growled, low in his throat. His gold. His female. A dull ache throbbed at the base of his skull, as the dragon battled for dominance, shoving back the male with negligent ease. Eager to see and touch the coveted treasure.

  “So it’s true about dragons and gold.” Claudia sounded almost amused. With a single touch and a soft word inside his head, she calmed him and bid his dragon step back. How could it possibly navigate those steps. It would see the treasure, and soon.

  If it had remained hidden from the looters.

  “It’s everything to us.” Tharius had forgotten how strong was the urge to protect, to defend. “Status, security. A dragon never sleeps so well as when resting on his hoard. It felt as if they tore off our limbs when the invaders stole our treasure.”