Tales from Tarker's Hollow

by Tasha Black

  “What - what are you…?” she asked.

  “Lie down,” he commanded.

  She obeyed him, though she was nervous.

  The moment his mouth touched her, though, she forgot to be shy.

  His tongue was so soft and gentle, but the sensations he provoked in her were wild and almost violent.

  The girls in college had talked about boys doing this to them in a crass and greedy way.

  But Marie could not imagine that what they had been talking about was this.

  She was desperate and filled with rich satisfaction all at once. She felt safe and loved and yet on the edge of a terrible precipice.

  Marie lost track of her own sounds as Harry loved and tormented her. Her need was a river, an ocean.

  Suddenly he lifted his clever tongue higher and eased a finger inside her.

  Marie felt her body lift off the ground in excitement. For a wavering instant she soared.

  Then the pleasure slammed down on her, and she was crushing his hand, writhing on his tongue, pulsing and thrumming out the most incredible ecstasy.

  Harry slowed his movements, until she was sated. Then crawled on top of her and nuzzled her neck.

  “You’re incredible,” he whispered to her, “my angel, my darling.”

  Marie could only whimper and feel her body respond all over again when she felt the hard throbbing of him against her belly through his blanket.

  She pulled the blanket off and tossed it carelessly away. It landed a few feet from the fire, which was lucky, because she would rather have let the whole place burn down around them than stop for a single instant.

  He moaned into her neck.

  Marie reveled in the feel of his skin against hers. His luxurious warmth saturated her very bones until she positively radiated bliss.

  She reached down with a tentative hand to touch him.

  Whatever she had expected, this was beyond her imagination. Smooth velvety softness over rigid steel.

  “Please don’t,” Dross groaned into her ear, as he throbbed helplessly in her hand.

  “Why?” Marie asked in confusion.

  “Because if you keep doing that I will have to take you now. And I don’t want to rush this,” he whispered.

  “I want you,” she told him.

  “Don’t Marie,” he warned her. “Dragons mate for life.”

  Life.

  Until she’d met Harry, she wasn’t even sure she’d truly had one.

  “Please,” she begged. “I need you, I want to belong to you. Forever.”

  He muttered something she assumed was a curse, and Marie rejoiced.

  He eased himself up from her chest, the muscles in his arms bulging.

  Marie looked down past his sculpted chest and abs, to see him take himself in his own hand.

  And slide himself against her opening.

  The sensation was delicious. Marie let her head fall back on the floor.

  Dross groaned and she looked up to see him, his jaw set, gazing down at the place where their bodies met.

  He looked up at her.

  And pressed himself against her.

  At first Marie thought he couldn’t enter her. The idea of something so large finding its way into such a small place was unthinkable.

  But she didn’t want him to change his mind, so she held still and absorbed each sensation: pleasure, friction, a broken moment of pinching pain, and then the bliss of feeling him fill her.

  “Marie?” he asked her in confusion, stilling himself inside her.

  She smiled with tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, my poor darling,” he whispered. “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m so happy,” she assured him.

  “I love you, Marie Ironwood,” he told her.

  He covered her face in kisses again, and then rested his elbows on either side of her shoulders. Gazing directly into her eyes, he began to move slowly inside her.

  Marie smiled up at him. Rasping friction inside her soon gave way to pleasure.

  Dross moved slowly and gently.

  Soon, Marie’s pleasure had evolved into a frantic desire. She found herself jogging her hips up against him, urging him to possess her faster, harder.

  “Slowly, darling,” he cautioned her with a smile.

  “But I want, I need…” Marie couldn’t articulate what she wanted without using ugly words.

  “I want this to be special for you, I want this to last,” he whispered.

  “Can’t we just do it slowly next time?” she whispered back.

  He threw his head back and laughed. The sound filled her heart.

  “As you wish,” he told her, moving in earnest.

  Marie gripped onto his arms as if she were drowning.

  The sensations overwhelmed her, but Dross was smiling down at her, and she was determined not to break eye contact. She reveled in the intimacy, in the expression on his dear face.

  But he was still too slow, too gentle.

  Struck with inspiration, Marie wrapped her legs around him and pulled him into her roughly.

  Dross’s smile disappeared and his jaw rippled with tension.

  She pulled him hard again and saw the exact moment when he lost the war against his need.

  Harry exhaled suddenly and then drove himself into her again and again.

  When Marie’s legs began to quiver, Dross slid a hand between them and massaged her most sensitive spot.

  Again, Marie tensed and floated, then crashed into a million pieces, this time convulsing around his thick member, delirious with ecstasy.

  His eyes darkened and he thrust into her once more, and then froze.

  Marie felt the rhythmic pulsing of his pleasure as he filled her with everything he had.

  Dross lowered his head and buried his face in her neck to stifle his cries.

  At last, he was still and they rested there.

  The crackling of the fire and the whir of the sleeping dragon combined with Dross’s warm embrace made sleep irresistible to Marie.

  As she drifted off, she remembered what he had said.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered softly as she floated into a dream.

  15

  A Forgotten Song

  The dream was different this time.

  The golden-eyed prince led her through a maze of darkness. She knew, with the certainty that comes in dreams, that they were terribly lost.

  “Sing, my love,” he whispered.

  A golden spotlight illuminated her, and she realized she was wearing ballet clothes. She hadn’t dressed like that since she stopped her ballet lessons in grade school.

  Around them, the walls began to close in.

  If she could only sing, they could find their way out. She was sure of it.

  She opened her mouth, but the tune wouldn’t come.

  The scent of marzipan filled her nose and he brushed her hand with his, the beading on his jacket grazing her skin lightly.

  “Sing, Marie,” the golden-eyed prince whispered ardently. “Hurry!”

  She tried again.

  Nothing.

  “-hurry,” he repeated, jostling her.

  She awoke to the cold darkness, Dross holding her shoulders, urging her.

  “We have to hurry love,” he said, concern marring his handsome face.

  She looked around. There was no light coming in the clerestory windows from above. The fire had burnt down to embers.

  Night.

  The Choosing.

  Had they missed it already?

  Marie scrambled to her feet frantically.

  “It’s alright darling,” Dross reassured her. “We can make it, we just have to hurry.”

  The way he looked at her pale skin in the glow of the dying fire told her that if she gave him chance, they’d be more than a little late.

  She grabbed her clothes from the sofa where she’d tossed them and dashed into the darkened bathroom to clean up as best she could.

  When she came out, Harry helped her
with her coat.

  The clockwork dragon strutted and clacked in front of the fire as if to complain that it wasn’t working properly.

  “We have to go, my friend,” Dross told him.

  He hissed, but allowed himself to be placed back in the backpack.

  Once it was secure on her shoulders, they walked out the door and into the night.

  No snowflakes fell, but the air remained frigid, and the snow had piled into deep drifts.

  Before Marie could take off down the path, Harry pulled her to him, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

  “I love you,” he told her. “No matter what happens.”

  In spite of her fear that they would miss the Choosing, Marie’s heart leapt.

  “I love you,” she whispered back, gazing into his beautiful dark eyes, basking in the approval of his warm smile.

  He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers for a moment. Then, as one, they began to walk through the deep snow across the campus.

  By the time they crossed Yale and headed east on N. Haverbrook Marie felt exhausted from the effort of trudging through the snow. Still, she hurried.

  At last, they made it to the big front door. Marie knew everyone would be bustling around, and hoped they could slip in unnoticed.

  She was out of luck.

  “Marie!” her mother trilled angrily. “Where have you been?”

  “I just needed some air,” she muttered. “We went for a walk.”

  “In the middle of a blizzard?” Addie moaned. “We were worried sick.”

  “I apologize, Addie,” Dross cut in. “I saw she was becoming unduly anxious and thought it would be best to get her out for a few minutes.”

  “Well, now we’ve got to get her ready and there’s not enough time,” Addie fretted. “Come along, Marie.”

  Marie gave Dross a helpless look, but he gave her a half smile and shrugged his shoulders in a way that was so like the golden-eyed prince of her dreams she forgot to argue with her mother as they headed for her room.

  Once there, her mother dressed her frantically.

  Marie hadn’t realized there was yet another dress for tonight. This one was made of a similar fabric to the one she’d worn the night before: satin with exquisite beadwork. But this gown had a corseted bodice and a skirt that widened and fell almost to the ground. If last night’s gown had been elegant, tonight’s was bordering on the fantastical.

  Marie studied the mirror as her mother hurriedly tried to tame her long hair, filling it with little pearl combs and beaded ribbons.

  Marie felt that she looked different: years older, more confident, and even smarter, in spite of the fluffy gown.

  She was in love.

  The other events of tonight were important to her family, but not to Marie - not really. She would gladly go back to Germany with Harry, nobility or not, and together they would find a way to open the dragon so he could have his magic back and teach her everything.

  Once her mother was satisfied, they headed for the ballroom, Marie taut with excitement about seeing Dross. Even their brief separation had filled her with eagerness to be by his side again.

  Her mother pushed open the heavy double doors.

  Rex Ratcliffe was addressing the room, but he broke off when Addie and Marie entered.

  They shuffled into the crowd in silence. Then Rex spoke again.

  “I see our hostess and her daughter have decided to grace us with their presence at last,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’d think they’d want to enjoy their last few moments of nobility.”

  A few guests made unhappy noises.

  “No, we don’t like that?” he teased. “Very well. I have it on good authority that the girl likes older men. Maybe I’ll marry her and let her family hold their claim. Come here, girl.”

  Marie scanned the room for Dross, clinging to her mother’s arm for protection. But Addie pushed her forward, a sad, defeated look on her face.

  “Go on, dear,” she whispered. “It’s the best thing you can do for your children.”

  “Do you hesitate before your patriarch?” Rex roared. “Come. Here. Now.”

  “You’re not my patriarch yet,” Marie said in a firm, clear voice as she stepped away from her mother.

  The room buzzed.

  Desperately, she tried to think of something, anything, to do.

  The key around her neck grew heavy and warm.

  Dross wasn’t there, and she’d left the clockwork dragon sleeping on her window seat.

  Hands began to push her toward Ratcliffe.

  Things had gone more wrong than she could have ever imagined.

  She was lost.

  The words of the golden-eyed prince resounded in her head.

  Sing, my love! Sing, Marie, hurry!

  Why could she never understand what he wanted to tell her? Why did he only come to her in dreams?

  Her dreams…

  The ballet clothes from her dream triggered a memory of the ballerina twirling atop her grandmother’s music box.

  Dross told her not to abandon the trapping of her youth.

  The song that would call the dragon. It was the song from the music box. Dross had built them both. It had to be.

  The crowd still edged her forward, but she took a deep breath, and pretended she was alone in the room. She pictured winding the music box, the tiny figure beginning her dance, and the song. The song that had escaped her became clear.

  She sang.

  * * *

  “Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,”

  * * *

  Her voice was a quavering soprano, barely audible over the din of hushed voices.

  “What?” Ratcliffe asked in confusion.

  * * *

  “Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;”

  * * *

  Her voice grew louder, more confident.

  The crowd quieted, and the hands at her back stilled. She sang loudly, determination fueling the notes.

  * * *

  “Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,

  Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!”

  * * *

  For a horrid moment she forgot the next lyric. She would be lost after all.

  From a few feet away, came Harry’s voice.

  * * *

  “Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,

  List while I woo thee with soft melody;”

  * * *

  Instantly, Marie remembered the rest, and allowed her voice to join his.

  * * *

  “Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,

  Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!”

  * * *

  A fluttering and whirring sounded from the entrance to the ballroom.

  The clockwork dragon.

  He had awoken, and was flying in to join her.

  * * *

  “Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!”

  * * *

  She and Dross sang out the last line together.

  She pulled the key from beneath her bodice as the dragon dove down to rest on her shoulder.

  Rex Ratcliffe let out a high-pitched scream of rage.

  Before Marie could get the key into the lock on the dragon’s neck, the air around her grew unbearably hot.

  Rex thundered the words of a spell and aimed his splayed fingers at her.

  She had no time to duck and nowhere to run from the throng of bodies.

  A bolt of blue light streaked toward her, but a dark shape intercepted it.

  Dross.

  He lay at her feet, unmoving.

  Marie threw herself on the ground. Desperately she thrust the key into the dragon and turned it.

  Nothing happened.

  Another blast of blue energy tore the dragon out of her hands and flung it into the Christmas tree. Marie watched in horror as it melted into the branches, covering the needles with liquid copper.

  This was the end, then.

  Her heart convulsed with pain. She pul
led Harry’s head into her lap.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered through her tears. “I love you.”

  Dross jerked in a ragged breath, and then opened his eyes.

  His magnificent, golden eyes.

  “Harry?” she whispered in confusion.

  “Marie, you did it.”

  “But, the dragon, nothing happened…”

  “It was already happening, it has been, ever since you first reached out to me.”

  Marie frowned at the scorch mark on his chest.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said darkly. “Now go take what’s yours.”

  Marie stood, power coursing through every cell of her body. She stepped toward Ratcliffe, motes of golden energy leaping from her skin and arcing between her hands. Her hair and dress flapped behind her, as if blown by strong wind in the still ballroom.

  Rex looked for a moment as if he were about to cast another spell, but then thought better of it.

  She walked to him, her power intensifying with every step, threatening to consume her. Marie extended one crackling hand, and touched him with a single finger. In an instant, she perceived every aspect of the man. His petty fears. His jealousy. His hatred. She observed every molecule, saw the energy that held his atoms in place. And knew that she could undo it all with a thought.

  “Sit down,” she said calmly.

  He obliged immediately.

  She turned to the stunned crowd, and pulled the magic back into herself.

  “Is this who you want as your patriarch?” she asked in a clear, ringing voice. “A man who tries to hurt people, a leader who uses his power against his own?”

  “Boo,” shouted Grace’s grandmother.

  “Boo,” sounded a deeper voice from the back of the room.

  The whole place erupted with dissenting voices.

  Marie held up her hand to silence them.

  “Brothers and sisters, will each of you who wishes to vote for Rex Ratcliffe as patriarch please lift your hand?”

  She paused.

  Thaddeus raised a lone hand from his place next to his grandfather.