The Dragon's Rose: A Dragon Shifter Romance Novel

by Serena Rose

  “No! I don’t want to “visit”! I WANT. TO. GO. HOME!!!”

  The figure sighed, both in frustration and understanding. “I will be here with you, my child, guiding you every step of the way until you transition. Please, accept your fate.”

  The figure began to fade, and Bella railed. She soon collapsed into a heap upon the cold stone floor and cried. She cried for what seemed like hours before Hildevar finally came back, her head lowered in submission, eyes blazing with duty.

  Hildevar curtsied, and Bella stared back in defiance, her eyes puffy and her full lips pulled into an angry pout.

  “Rogan requests your presence at dinner.”

  “I don’t care what he requests. I’m not going.”

  Hildevar sighed. “You are not making this easy--”

  “Good.”

  “My queen, you must.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.”

  Hildevar then sighed once more. “I will tell him.”

  Bella nodded. “Yep. Tell him then.”

  Hildevar sauntered out the door and down the hallway, and Bella took a seat on one of the comfy chairs, feeling much like a contented cat. It wasn’t much of a victory, but it was a small one. She’d go into this marriage kicking and screaming the whole way if that’s what it took.

  She had been trying to futilely get her cell phone to work when an angry Rogan burst into her quarters. He was shirtless and breathing heavily, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors and his heavy blond mane swinging with his fury.

  “You are coming to dinner and that’s final!”

  Bella turned and looked Rogan in the eye. Her jaw nearly dropped when she saw his muscular chest and physique, but she firmly told her raging hormones to zip it. She concentrated on the angry set of his jaw instead as she smiled sweetly.

  “Nope. I am not. So go breathe your fire and brimstone somewhere else.”

  “We need to look like a united front to both your people and mine. The fallout of you not cooperating would hinder everything I am working for--”

  “I don’t care!!” Bella shouted, and Rogan approached her, his body language menacing.

  Bella instinctively stepped back a few paces but tried to hold her ground. His smell hit her, and she tried not to revel in the smell. He smelled like warm cinnamon. She felt her womanhood contract, and she once again had to remind herself that HE was the ENEMY. Her hormones didn’t seem bothered enough to care, and her heart picked up speed as he leaned in to her.

  “You don’t care?” he asked her, and Bella gulped.

  “I—yes—I don’t,” she asserted weakly, and he shot her a twisted grin. His hands brushed the valley between her breasts, and Bella took in a sharp breath.

  “What do you think you’re--”

  Rogan tugged off the necklace and it gave with an audible snap.

  “That’s mine!”

  “It is I who does not care. I know a transmogrifying piece when I see it. I will have my best and brightest reverse this and, if you don’t cooperate, perhaps I will have my soldiers visit those dear relatives of yours on Earth.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try my hand and perhaps I shall.”

  Bella wanted to stomp her feet in frustration. This was all so unfair. Instead, she glared at Rogan, her body filled with rage—and something else she could not quite identify.

  “Fine. But if you lay one finger on them--”

  Rogan spun away from her, and the necklace dangled from his fingers. “If you behave, I won’t have to.”

  Rogan exited the room and shut the door with a dramatic slam as Bella hurled a vase at the door. She screamed and then sat in a huff in one of the chairs, contemplating her next move.

  She heard the door open up softly, and she yelled out without turning about.

  “What is it, Rogan?! Came back to gloat?”

  Hildevar’s soft voice rang out, and Bella immediately felt guilty, despite feeling as if the girl was somehow complicit in her predicament.

  Bella chose to glower instead as the girl approached.

  “I will help you get ready for dinner,” she stated, and Bella watched as a flurry of women came barreling in the room, hands filled with a variety of tools, accessories and dresses.

  “Um…what’s wrong with what I have on?” Bella asked, and Hildevar’s face blazed. The other women looked down at the ground, and Bella pressed on.

  “What? It’s fine. It’s just dinner.”

  “My queen. What you have on is considered—quite obscene.”

  “Obscene?” Bella glanced down at her ensemble. “How is it obscene?” Bella stood before a full-length mirror and whirled around.

  “My queen, one can see the shape of your—of your backside in those pantaloons.”

  Bella rolled her eyes. She had probably fallen into every Neanderthal’s wet dream. Would she have to swim in a dress that reached her ankles, too? Perhaps reading was outlawed as well? she thought as she glanced at the dresses the women were holding.

  She couldn’t quite tell what they looked like, per se, but they looked long and stifling. She snorted. And she supposed on her wedding night, she would be advised to lay back and think of England. She glanced over at Hildevar and noticed her nervously chewing her lips as Bella’s eyes roved over the garments.

  “Women don’t wear pants here?”

  The women shook their heads in unison.

  “And…why not?” Bella asked, and Hildevar cleared her throat.

  “Well….it’s just not…done.”

  “So…what about hunting?”

  “Dragon women can only hunt in dragon form mostly and only with the permission of their husbands. I don’t think human women or the La’Draiochta are allowed to hunt at all.”

  “So what if a human woman or a dragon woman’s husband dies or she doesn’t have a husband?”

  “Well, then the responsibility would fall to a brother or kin of the husband. If they are not around…then—well….” Hildevar trailed off.

  “So that’s it? The woman just starves or something?”

  The women all hung their heads.

  “We don’t agree, my queen,” one of the maidens spoke up for the first time. Her gaze met Bella’s squarely, and there was a defiant set to her mouth.

  “Yes,” Hildevar said, “But what can we do? We are only women.”

  “Yes, my queen,” the woman who had spoken told Bella. “And we are but handmaidens. That is a task solely reserved for a queen, your majesty.”

  Bella chewed her lip thoughtfully as she gazed at the woman. Well played, she thought, well played.

  “I’ll wear the dress. But only for now. I want to know more about this—hunting thing.”

  HIldevar curtsied low, and the women scurried about making preparations. They buzzed about her in a flurry of activity. Bella was fast becoming tuckered out just watching them. They helped her to bathe, clipped and trimmed her nails, washed and styled her thick mane of hair and finally squeezed her into one of the dresses on hand.

  Hildevar and the woman who had spoken quickly thrust Bella into what she surmised was a corset. She fought against it, and the woman beside Hildevar pleaded.

  “Please, your majesty….”

  “Nope. Cuz I enjoy breathing…..,”

  Hildevar finally lost her temper, it seemed. “My queen, a respectable woman does NOT go without a corset!”

  The other woman agreed, and Bella narrowed her eyes.

  “What’s your name?” she asked the young woman who had wide expressive brown eyes and red hair.

  The woman gulped, but stood resolute. “Alannah, your majesty.”

  Bella huffed. “Well, Alannah, I am not trying to get into that contraption.”

  “That—er—contrap—er piece, your majesty, is what all women wear beneath their gowns. It’s an essential part of their dress.”

  Bella rolled her eyes for what she felt was surely the hundredth time that day. “Fine.”

  They hoisted the torturo
us device up and over Bella’s hips and pulled it up to her ribs and under her breasts. With a mighty yank, Bella’s waist went from small to nearly non-existent. And her bosom—Bella’s eyes went wide when she looked down at her décolletage. Talk about obscene! She was already pretty well-endowed, but the addition of the corset made her breasts look more than—well…..Bella had no other word to describe it all except ample.

  They slipped a gown over Bella’s head and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was lovely. It was made of some kind of soft, green silk that brought out the color of her eyes quite nicely. And once the material was settled nicely over her chest, her cleavage looked—amazing. Forget the push-up, Bella thought as she twirled in the mirror. The entire effect was breathtaking. They had rouged up her face and lips, her hair was shiny and in fetching curls and her tiny waist complimented her abundant chest perfectly.

  All the women oohed and aahed as they admired their handiwork.

  Hildevar graced Bella with the first genuine smile Bella had ever seen and said, “I believe you are ready, your majesty.”

  Bella nodded, at a loss for words. She couldn’t find the words to describe herself. She hardly ever dressed up or wore make-up, so the woman staring back at her in the mirror looked like someone other than herself, someone other than the Bella she knew she was. Bella stared at her reflection a long moment more. If she didn’t know any better, Bella would think she was beautiful. She had never thought of herself that way. She didn’t think she was horrid looking, but she never thought herself to be in that league.

  Bella nodded mutely, and Hildevar clapped her hands authoritatively.

  “I will escort our majesty to the great hall. Go about your preparations.”

  The women all nodded, including Alannah, and they all slipped soundlessly out of the door and into the corridor.

  Hildevar nodded once at Bella, whose stomach began to churn nervously.

  “So what happens at dinner?”

  “Oh, this one is very special, my queen. All the dragon clan heads will be in attendance, as well as the current leader of the La’Draiochta, your cousin.”

  Bella took in a sharp breath and tried to calm her nerves. No wonder Rogan was so touchy about dinner today, she thought.

  “I’m ready,” Bella told Hildevar, sounding far more confident than she felt.

  Hildevar led Bella down the corridor that was lit with torches. The torches gave off a warm bright light that flickered and danced. Bella glanced at the walls that were all covered in designs made with precious, glowing gems. Each design seemed to depict dragons in either an epic battle or conquest.

  “These are stories of our ancestors,” Hildevar told Bella proudly. “They fought alongside many of the humans to rid our world of the old cruel gods.”

  Bella nodded, but something about what Hildevar said stuck out at her. “Wait, so the dragons fought off cruel gods with humans, yet the humans despise you all? Why?”

  Hildevar sighed sadly. “I could probably talk all night about the whys and wherefores. It is a long and complicated thing, marked by hatred and cruelties on both sides.”

  “There is hatred like that in my world, too. There aren’t any easy answers there either.”

  They both slipped into contemplative silence before Hildevar paused by a large door.

  “I will announce you, my queen. You will bow graciously and take your seat beside our king.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hildevar opened the door and stepped inside with an imperious air.

  “Our future queen, her majesty, Bella, future woman of Rogan, son of Dagan, of the Tuatha-Muin Dragon Clan.”

  All conversation stopped as Hildevar ushered Bella into the great hall. Bella tried to imitate Hildevar’s casual grace, but was sure she’d failed miserably. She quickly took her seat beside Rogan and looked over at the sea of questioning eyes that were busily examining her. She fidgeted a bit in her seat until Rogan placed a calming hand atop hers.

  She looked over at him and smiled. A pleasant arc of electricity raced through her from him, and her smile faltered just a bit before she turned away. What was that? she asked herself before shaking off her musings and concentrating on the task at hand.

  Men all over, and a few women, looked Bella over speculatively. She tried not to wilt beneath the press of so many gazes, some of them curious while many of them hostile. After a moment, servants hurried about with food and drink, and the din of eating, talking and the clang of utensils resumed.

  “You can breathe now,” Rogan said to Bella quietly.

  Bella snorted inelegantly but, nevertheless, shot him a smirk. “Nope, actually I can’t. Have you tried wearing a corset?”

  Rogan roared with laughter. “You have wit. I like that.”

  Bella resisted the urge to simper beneath his compliment and simply looked back at him.

  “And you are…amazingly beautiful.”

  Bella was taken aback by his admission. “T-Thanks,” she stammered and looked down at her plate that seemed to almost mysteriously materialize in front of her. She knew better, however, as she had caught a servant from the corner of her eye hightailing it away from their table with impressive speed.

  “I like you better this way. You look more—feminine,” Rogan continued.

  Bella cut her eyes at him, the warm feeling she had dissipating like steam.

  “Whatever,” she told him and began to pick at the fare before her. There was some kind of meat in a brown gravy on her plate. She picked at it a moment, unsure of how she should proceed. She looked about her and noticed eyes still watching her. She took in a deep breath. Well, here goes, she thought, when in Rome….

  She bit delicately into the succulent meat and then nearly moaned. It was delicious.

  She leaned over to Rogan. “What is this?”

  He smiled back. “It is mear meat. A kind of animal that grazes in the southern valley. The meat is very tender and good. It is hard to procure, however,” Rogan told her. Bella took another bite.

  “Why?”

  “They fly. Very fast, I may add. It is a delicacy amongst dragons as only the fastest among us can catch them.”

  “And who is the fastest amongst you?” Bella queried, and Rogan shot a wide grin.

  “I am. I caught this this morning.”

  “Hm,” Bella told him nonchalantly. “Well, bully for you.”

  Rogan grinned even wider and bit into his own plate of sumptuous meat. Light music then began filling the air with a backdrop of lute-like notes and some other unidentifiable stringed instruments. In the center of the great hall was a large space, and it quickly began to fill with couples performing intricate steps to the music.

  “You dance?” Rogan asked, and Bella shook her head.

  “No, but I sing,” she offered, and he dropped his utensil in amazement.

  “You—sing?!” he said, and she nodded.

  “Is that bad? I mean, I--”

  “Would you sing for me? Now?” he asked urgently, and Bella nodded.

  “I guess I could, but what’s the big deal--”

  Rogan motioned to a servant who scurried over. He whispered in the servant’s ear, and the servant’s eyes went wide. The servant glanced over at Bella with awe, and he hurried over to another who stood near a wall. The servant then whispered in that servant’s ear, who in turn, whispered in another’s until the entire hall was buzzing with some kind of underlying excitement.

  Bella tugged softly on Rogan’s sleeve. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange?”

  Rogan gave her a huge smile. “My dear, you just gave me the best gift any wife could give a husband. Now, go….sing something worthy of the clan.”

  Deep, melodic music filled the air as couples disengaged and turned to Bella with expectant eyes. Hildevar rushed over and reverently offered her hand, and Bella took it. Hildevar led Bella to the middle of the floor. Couples bowed and scraped as they moved away from the floor back to their tables, and soon Be
lla was alone. Hildevar made a few gestures with her hand, and Bella made a noise in her throat, surprised that the sound was now magnified.

  Bella looked around, more nervous than at any performance she’d ever done. She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes, trying to find the song within her. She hummed along with the music and then finally lifted up her voice. She sang in clear, strong notes about flirting with the idea of love before finding it. Then, she built up the song to its climax, when love is found and all the hardest things about being in love, even the uncertainty and the fear, is all worth it, as true, real love meant feeling whole and complete.

  She opened her eyes to see everyone watching her with rapt attention. Some had tears in their eyes, while others were openly sobbing. Couples embraced with passion, their eyes staring back at Bella with something akin to joyous abandon. Bella’s voice wound around notes like silk, taking all the listeners through the emotional journey with soft sighs, trills and then back up with high, hard notes. She reached the crescendo and kept the note suspended there, her voice ringing beautifully across the air and then down into the denouement.

  When she had ended the final note, she was breathing hard. The great hall was absolutely silent. No one moved or made a sound. Bella swallowed and took a shaky breath. Did she do something wrong?