Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  Too much blood.

  He analyzed everything, and he knew there was one thing that he needed to do. Every belief in him raged against the idea, because she wasn’t his. It wasn’t the proper way. It wasn’t right.

  But it was the only way to give her a chance at living again.

  Before he was set to start, he decided to do the hard part first while she was still unconscious. He started with her limbs, setting the joints back in place and hearing a pop at every turn. It was a slow, painstaking process, because he couldn’t move his arms much through the shackles and had to improvise. Just as he reached her right shoulder, Red’s eyes drifted open, her gaze hazy with pain as it landed on him.

  “Henrik…”

  He gritted his teeth and set the shoulder back in place, and the cry that came out of her throat almost killed him. Red’s eyeballs rolled up her eyelids, and she was unconscious again and very cold in his arms. A single tear fell from her closed eyelid down to her bloodstained cheek, and it made him tremble out of his own accord.

  There was one more thing left to do.

  He looked around for anything sharp to use, then cursed when he found nothing. He looked at Red’s injuries, realizing there was no other choice in this matter.

  While normal shifters mated by choosing their own mate through sex, then exchanging blood, reptile shifters mated differently—by taking blood from those they chose to be theirs. Sex followed, but it wasn’t necessarily a given. Once they drank their chosen mate’s blood, they had the power to heal each other on the first touch, one that was powerful enough to sustain any kind of injuries.

  Then they would be mated for life.

  The knowledge flashed through Henrik’s mind, then disintegrated quickly. He placed his mouth on the wound near her neck, where it was flowing more freely than most.

  Then he slowly drank her blood.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They were both transferred to a mobile prison as the coven planned to travel to the US via boat. In that prison, they only had one cell, big enough for the two of them and covered with a black cloth to keep them from knowing the directions and paths used. Red had a fever, raging very high; all she could do was close her eyes and wish this nightmare was over.

  That was after she’d wished to die, when she’d been tortured to the point of death, and everything simply hurt.

  That was also after Henrik had taken it upon himself to save her life.

  Through the fever and the hallucinations, she could hear his voice—a strong, steady sound that brought her back from the brink over and over again. She was almost there, at the very edge, ready to jump down the darkness and never look back. But his voice was like an anchor, pulling her right back up. He never gave up, kept on calling her name.

  And so, on that last time, she reached out for him and fought through the darkness to go back to the world.

  That was the day she woke up, three days after he’d healed her. The fever was gone completely, and all that was left was the pinprick ache in her muscles and the feeling of a heavy heart.

  Henrik had been quick to explain everything to her, from the revelations her mother said about killing Malik to what he had to do to keep her alive. His voice had gone strained while explaining the last part, and she couldn’t exactly blame him. The thing was, even before he had to go into detail, she already knew she couldn’t not have sustained wounds and broken limbs from what Jericho and the others had done to her. Along with Gloria’s magic torture, she should have fared worse.

  But when she’d woken up, all the wounds were gone, save for plenty of scars and some scratches.

  “The blood feeding,” he began, “It healed you, and it’s a one-time thing, and it means—”

  “I know what it means,” she cut off. “I’ve…Malik took my blood, too.”

  Malik had taken her blood, so she could be his—and it had sealed the deal for them.

  Silence descended upon them inside the cage. Outside, the contrast was stark as they could hear men’s voices floating about, instructions flying around in regards to getting the boat ready. From the sounds of it, this actually wasn’t just a boat, but a ship—one that had to be huge as they transported everything from Europe to the place they were planning to attack.

  She and Henrik needed to escape. It was a matter of life and death.

  But Gloria had known that, too—and she’d taken the extra measure by stifling Red’s powers, and Henrik’s shifting abilities along with it. She could feel it flowing inside of her, a steady beat. She could also feel his dragon inside her, just as steady. But no matter how much she tried to urge them out, none came. The colors and the dragon stayed locked away, and her body vibrated with the energy that stayed inside.

  This energy translated to frustration in more ways than one. The silence had gone on for the rest of the day, even until late afternoon when their cloth cover was lifted up, and food was delivered in two steel dog bowls. She didn’t need food, because the magic inside her was enough to sustain her.

  When he didn’t seem to want to reach for the food, either, she kept her eye on his body. It was then that she noted down the bruises he had on his arms, something he’d tried to keep hidden the moment she’d woken up by hunching over.

  Dratted man.

  An idea came over to her. Red quietly moved closer to where Henrik was seated on the ground in the cage corner, arms crossed and eyes closed. He was breathing steadily, even while she was already beside him.

  Tentatively, Red touched his arm, feeling him still immediately. His eyes snapped open, golden and boring into her with a question.

  “I’m…just gonna try something,” she whispered.

  He didn’t say anything, simply watched her with an intensity that made her fingers tingle. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see that gaze on her. Not wanting anything at all, but she had to try this.

  Minutes passed. She kept moving her hand on his bare skin, feeling her magic try to break out, but not really reaching through. However, it didn’t stop her hand from feeling the burn, and before her eyes, she saw his bruises fade from a deep purple to something that was light yellow.

  It was the same as Malik, only different. Her first time trying to heal Malik had been when he’d broken his fingers on a crash flight, and it had set pretty quickly with no bruises. This, this was more visible.

  Her eyes opened, and her hands moved, searching for more of his wounds inside his shirt. She did her best to not look him in the eye as she placed her palm on his stomach, which had the largest bruise of all. She felt him suck in a breath, felt his stomach contract, and an answering heat throbbed inside her body.

  The bruise faded in less than a minute, and she pulled her hand off right away.

  “Do you…do you feel the dragon returning?”

  Silence. Red looked up—and her breath caught in her throat when she found him still looking at her with something unreadable and heady in his gaze.

  “No,” he murmured.

  She nodded her head, abruptly standing up and walking to the opposite end of the cage. She could feel his eyes following her movement, a brand that tingled all over.

  Panic set inside her. To stomp it down, she turned her back towards him, a clear indication that she didn’t want to talk—that she didn’t want to do anything at all.

  This was the mating thing. The urge. The instincts. It didn’t mean anything, and it wouldn’t mean anything if they acted on it.

  Silence reigned on.

  *****

  A storm came that night, rocking the ship and raining sounds on them from the outside. The black cloth must have had magic in it, because despite the rain, they didn’t get wet at all.

  As it turned out, her earlier deduction of the ship was not that correct. A ship that was big wouldn’t rock this much—and rock this one did, swaying them in their spots inside as thunder and lightning played music outside. Red used to love storms because it enhanced her magic and made anything possible.

&nb
sp; But now the storm was her enemy.

  It called to her—shouted at her, tempting and teasing her senses and her magic to come out. Her magic tried, it really did. But it could do nothing to break whatever barrier Gloria had placed, and in the end, the push and pull had become painful. It made her tremble, and she had to grip the cage bars so hard to steady herself as shame and frustration and pain filled her.

  Then, anger.

  She was angry at her mother for betraying her all this time—for killing her mate and her sister, who were innocent pawns in Gloria’s game. She was angry at herself for not spotting Gloria beneath Ruby any sooner, and for not having a clue that the coven leaders had actually known for some time and had only been tricking them. She was angry that she couldn’t break free, couldn’t do anything but feel helpless.

  Most of all, she was angry at Henrik for saving her life in the only way he can—and in turn, making her feel too much of these feelings that didn’t belong to either of them at all.

  They were both hardened, seasoned, and too battered by life’s realities, and this was just the nail in the coffin. The anger built, making her brood and darkening her soul even while she held onto the cage bars.

  A particularly hard sway of the ship, while her thoughts were muddled, sent her hurtling to the other side. She made a move to reach out for the bars, but it was too late, and she was falling. Her shoulder blindly tried to cushion the fall, and she braced herself for the pain that should have come at a hard crash.

  But nothing came, as strong arms reached out to her and cloaked her in its protection. She felt Henrik’s body covering her, sandwiching her between the cage bars and his chest.

  “Hold on,” he growled, gritting his teeth.

  And that was how they stayed, as the ship swayed and swayed. She could feel his warmth against her back, feel his hot breath at the nape of her neck as he struggled to keep them upright. Outside, the storm raged for a long time, pounding along with her heart. It passed into dawn before settling in the deep sea, and now only silence raged on.

  But that was a lie.

  It wasn’t silent, because her heart was still beating too loud. It wasn’t silent, because she could feel his erratic breath against her hair and it was driving her insane.

  So Red retaliated the best way she could—by pushing him back hard, turning around and pushing him again.

  Surprise filled Henrik’s stare. Then his eyes flashed. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Everything’s wrong,” she snapped, moving away from him. She had hoped it would dissuade him, but no—apparently the dragon leader was too stubborn for that because instead of moving away, he simply stalked closer.

  “Red? What’s the matter?”

  She stepped back, glaring at him. “Nothing’s the matter. Leave me alone.”

  He stepped even closer. Panic seized her as she felt the cage bars against her back, trapping her effectively. She made a move to push him again, but he was having none of it as he grabbed her wrist before it could do the push. Her eyes flared—with the panic, with the anger.

  With something else.

  The same anger flashed in his eyes before disappearing completely. It was replaced by realization, then a darkening of gold as they filled with acceptance.

  Desire.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Henrik cursed under his breath. Then he was covering her mouth with his own and putting his hands on her hair as he pressed his body against hers.

  The world unraveled.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. Her hands were free, and she now had the ability to fight back. To push him away again, so far away that he would never think of kissing her again.

  Instead, she pulled him closer, arching against him as glorious electricity started in her core and moved steadily up.

  Hands and mouth moved—his tongue sliding inside and seeking hers, his hands moving in between them to hurriedly unbutton her robes. His hand was on her breast in an instant, and he kneaded and molded and skillfully brought her nipples to the peak. Once they were, his head moved down to lick a path down her throat, right before he slid her robes completely down and covered her nipple with his mouth.

  He sucked. He licked. He did everything to heat her up, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan that wanted to come out. They had to stay silent. It was a matter of life and death—

  And this was a matter of life itself.

  Warning bells sounded in her mind. This was wrong. This was insane and wrong, and they should pull away—

  Hands were on her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and she felt something hot and hard sliding inside her core—one full thrust until he was deep to the hilt and pleasure radiated through her every bone.

  She almost moaned again, but he swallowed it with a desperate kiss. Then he was moving, moving and moving and moving, pounding into her hard, over and over until she was swept away in the emotion of it—until she was lost in it all.

  Just before she reached the throes, golden eyes pinned her, full of passion and hunger. Then she was exploding, blind and deaf to everything.

  After a few more hard thrusts, he was exploding and following her to bliss.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Their first wasn’t their last, and the addiction for her grew out of his own accord, even while he tried his best to tamp it down. She wasn’t his woman, he reasoned, and she would never be. This was a temporary setup, and soon they would be living different lives away from each other. They were living in the heat of the moment, and it was all going to die down as soon as they escaped.

  All and every reason didn’t stop the passion from rising. They slept after that first round, with his arms around her and her head buried in his chest. They woke up a few hours later, just before day broke and anyone stirred—and there, he touched her again, silently waiting for her to push him away like her initial intention. He braced himself for that, telling himself he was not going to pursue it any further if she didn’t want it.

  But she wanted it just as much as he did. And she touched him more boldly than she did the first time, and it was his undoing.

  His resolve slowly crumbled. His control easily snapped as he rolled on top of her and kissed her everywhere, and he had to bite back a groan as he felt her hand wrap around his cock—a slow rub at first until she was stroking it more firmly, and it grew harder than steel. Then he was thrusting into her wet heat, and he threw caution to the wind as pleasure overran them both.

  While their first run was fast, this one was slow—an intimate moment as he moved against her, watching her face and its flicker of expressions; an eye flutter here, a silent moan there. Her hands went to his shoulder, and she pulled him closer. They rolled again until she was the one on top of him—and in this position, he could see her in all her naked glory, her hair a mess and her gray eyes the most beautiful he had ever seen them.

  She was sunshine. She was life.

  Red kept moving on top of him, setting the pace this time. It intoxicated him, this woman who was so in control of herself yet so easily lost in ardor. Every move of her hips felt like stoking the fire, and he felt it burn higher and higher as he participated in the movement—pushing his hips up in time with hers, playing with her pink nipples until they were ripe and firm for him. He took one in his mouth, felt her body tremble. Then she was riding him fast, and he was trembling, too.

  With a quiet growl, he swallowed her gasp as he rolled them back to their original position. This time, instead of taking it slow, he quickened his pace until her body was surging with his—a hard thrust, changing his angle from time to time until he found the spot that had her back bending and her nails digging into his skin.

  He was almost there. His vision was tunneling, and whatever was left was filled with visions of her, naked and beautiful and absolutely delicious—

  Her muscles clenched around him, and he had to bite his lip as another groan threatened to come out. With no control l
eft anymore, he plunged into her repeatedly, kissing her roughly and letting himself escape in a moment of pure pleasure.

  Then pleasure reached the point of no return, and he was spilling inside her trembling body.

  That wasn’t the last, either.

  *****

  They had just enough time to clean themselves up and put their clothes back in place before another set of bowls were slid inside the cage. Red demanded to use the bathroom—and to their surprise, the men outside blindfolded her and let her go. She returned a few minutes later considerably fresh and unharmed, something that relieved him.

  They gave him the same freedom, but it wasn’t enough of a freedom as frustration welled up inside him again at the idea of being a prisoner. He did a very stupid thing by picking a fight with them on the way back to the cage—and getting overpowered right away as men surrounded him and shackled him before roughly throwing him inside.

  Her hands were there immediately, soothing him and looking for bruises to clean. Anger faded, replaced by guilt. It was vibrating inside hers too, along with regret.

  But they never talked about it.

  “We need to escape,” she whispered to him when they heard silence outside again. He nodded his head in agreement, gently kissing her forehead. Then she grew so quiet right after, as if she were concentrating. He scanned his mind for ideas of his own, though he’d already done that earlier to no avail. Without his shifting abilities and natural strength back, this was going to be next to impossible.

  Suddenly Red tensed beside him. He only had a second to move a few inches away from her before the cloth cover was parted, and Gloria came into view. She looked beautiful, well-rested, and absolutely delighted to see them in their dirty clothes.

  Fury burst inside him in an instant. He kept it under tight control, not wanting to give her any further leeway to taunt them. Gloria took one look at him before dismissing him completely, as if he were beneath her notice. She turned her attention to her daughter, who was now looking at her with no expression on her face.

  Placid, composed Red was back.