Hendric took a moment, then moved forward again. Warmund’s head snapped up and he lifted the knife. Apparently, the fact that they weren’t killing each other already made for boring entertainment, because the other patrons went back to their drinking and sleeping without bothering with them. Hendric sat beside Warmund, who immediately put the knife against his throat.
“What the hell are you doing? If you don’t want trouble, then turn your ass around and walk right out of here.”
He hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm welcome. This would be easier if Warmund knew who he was. Hendric leaned back, putting distance between the knife and his throat. “Your father sent me.”
Warmund’s bloodshot eyes widened. The knife dropped an inch as he gasped sharply. For a moment, the anger in his youthful face washed away before a wave of hope appeared. He looked very much like a lost little boy, hardly even twenty-three centuries old. Hendric was more than twice as old as him. His youth made him reel.
Then Warmund’s eyes hardened again. Despair and hate warred in his eyes as he lifted the knife again. “My father didn’t send you. My father doesn’t give a damn about me. And I don’t give a damn about him. So whatever it is you’re trying to sell, just go ahead and get out of here.”
Despite the bloodshot eyes, his hand was steady, and his words clear. Hendric narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re not as drunk as you’re trying to pretend. Which means, what? You were expecting someone?”
Warmund glared at him for a moment before slamming his hand down to the table. “I’ve heard that you were looking for me, Hendric. If you think I’m going to let you kill me so easily, then you’re out of your head.”
“So, you do recognize me.”
“Of course I do,” Warmund snapped at him. “I’m the one who hired you. Is your memory failing, old man?”
Hendric wasn’t going to let himself get riled up by such a weak insult. He let out a sigh and shook his head. “If you remember hiring me to work at the palace, why would you believe that I’m here to kill you over the possibility that your father wants you back home?”
“Because my father is the bastard who sent me out here in the first place.”
Now wasn’t the time to discuss this. Even though Hendric’s fires grew hotter at the accusation, he knew better than to try to change Warmund’s mind here. While they spoke low, there wasn’t much other sound in the tavern. It would be all too easy to be overheard and have this information used against them. He put a hand on Warmund’s shoulder.
“Perhaps you’re not as drunk as you want to appear, but you’re still not in your full faculties. Let’s get you somewhere less public so you can sleep it off, and then we’ll talk.”
Warmund snorted in disbelief but stood unsteadily. They headed out of the tavern, exhaustion and hopelessness lining the prince’s face. Hendric helped him walk, a furrow in his brow. If Warmund did really believe that he had been sent to kill him, why was he going along with this so quietly? No, he must believe Hendric but just didn’t want to admit it.
When they left the tavern, Hendric caught sight of a procession of huge, well-armed dragons. They appeared to be carrying a cage of some sort and Warmund cursed.
“Them again.”
“Who are they?” Hendric asked.
Warmund glared at him. “More than one man can take on. I’ve stopped trying.”
As the men started moving past, he spied what was in the cage. His heart stopped. A woman and a boy. His fires raged higher and he released Warmund, growling in his throat. With a hand on his sword, he strode forward and planted himself in front of the procession. Slavery was illegal in all the kingdoms. He wasn’t going to just stand back and do nothing now.
His heart nearly dropped when the woman looked up. Sylvia. Her eyes widened, and she threw herself against the cage bars. How had she gotten here? Were the slavers invading Earth now? The boy jumped, startled, and Hendric couldn’t breathe. Avas. He was supposed to be safe in the monastery! His fires roared so high that he tasted them on his tongue. Smoke curled from his mouth and nostrils.
The slavers came to a stop, glaring at him. “Out of the way unless you’re looking to buy slaves or have your head lopped off your shoulders.”
Hendric grasped the hilt of his sword tighter. “That is my son you have in there.” His gaze flickered to Sylvia. If he said she was just an acquaintance, they’d be less willing to barter. “And she is my mate. You will release them at once or—”
“Or what?” the leader sneered. “If they’re your mate and son, then you should have done a better job of protecting them. I’ll say it again, you buy them, you get out of the way, or you die.” He drew his weapon, as did the rest of the slavers. “Which is it?”
Hendric’s flames rose to a pitch where they actually growled. There was at least a dozen of them. He wouldn’t be able to hold them all off alone, and he wasn’t going to get any help from the deserted streets. Only Warmund remained nearby, and he leaned heavily on a barrel, watching with dispassionate eyes.
If he shifted, he’d stand a chance. But if he did that, his colors would be known and the tattoo on his scales showing he was a palace guard would be visible to all. That would be as good as painting a target on his back.
Which meant he was going to have to buy them. He hated giving money to these disgusting wretches, but he hated the thought of Sylvia and Avas in their clutches for another second even more. He pulled a small bag of gold from his pocket and tossed it over to the leader, who caught it looking surprised. It was everything he had to get him and Warmund back to Byrelmore.
They’d figure it out.
The dragon opened the pouch and sorted through it. He let out a low whistle, then gestured for the men carrying the cage to open it. Avas scrambled out, rushing to him at once. Hendric caught him, his heart starting to pound double time. It was only now, with his son in his arms, that he really accepted that this was happening. Somehow Avas had been captured by slavers… And Sylvia with him. When she joined them, he put a protective arm around her and pulled them both back, out of the slaver’s path as they continued on.
Once they were out of sight, Hendric turned to them both. “Are you alright?”
Avas, wiping the tears from his face, nodded.
“What kind of dumb question is that?” Sylvia blurted. Her face went red as her eyes widened behind her glasses. “I mean… yeah. I’m not hurt or anything. Just… thank you for saving us. I’m going to freak out now.”
Hendric drew her closer, attempting to calm her as she started to shake.
Warmund, scowling, joined them. “You were looking for me, huh?”
“Do you have a place where we can stay and figure out what to do next?”
“Yeah.” Warmund glared at them a moment longer before he shrugged. “This way.”
Chapter Five
Sylvia
As Sylvia followed the young man while clinging to Hendric, she had to keep telling herself that she wasn’t going to cry. It was ridiculous that during the two days that she and Avas had been in that cage, she hadn’t shed a single tear. Even when she was at her most frightened, her eyes remained dry. Her head had been clear.
But now, as soon as she was safe and there was no more danger from the slavers, she was sniffling constantly, and her mind would not stop. Every possibility of what could have happened ran through her head. She was a pretty woman and with the right crowds, her curves were desirable. She knew that. She was no swimsuit model, but that extra meat on her bones wouldn’t protect her from perverts. And what if she and Avas had been separated? She had promised to protect him, but how could she, really?
“Welcome to my palace,” the young man said sarcastically when they reached a run-down hovel. He bowed them inside.
Sylvia gagged on the rotten smell, but Hendric let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Warmund.”
Warmund grunted. “Talk quietly or I’ll kill you.”
Warmund caught Sylvia’s eye and, at the look of
horror on her face, flinched. He opened his mouth then shut it again and stalked to a corner, where a pile of blankets lay on the floor. He drew one over his head as he laid down with his back to them. Sylvia frowned at him, wondering why he looked so familiar, until Hendric touched her hand and drew her attention back to him.
“What are you doing here?”
Sylvia explained softly, keeping her voice low, while Hendric picked up Avas and cradled him against his chest. When she was done, she noticed that Warmund had pulled the blanket off his head again, but he didn’t speak. Hendric’s face was lined, the gray in his hair standing out against the dark curls.
“When we return to the palace, we’ll look more into this Myleesa Elforde. In the meantime—”
A pounding on the door made them all jump. Warmund leapt to his feet, twin daggers in his hands and fire flickering between his teeth. Hendric put Avas down, handed him a knife and gestured for them to move back. Sylvia gaped at the knife Hendric had given Avas for a moment before she turned her attention back to the door. Hendric wrenched it open, looking huge and intimidating.
On the other side was a man who was at least twice as tall as Hendric. He was seriously a giant. Sylvia’s jaw dropped, and she drew back more.
“This the man?”
A thin, wrinkled woman behind the burly man nodded. “That’s him. He's gone and bought a girl from those slavers.”
The burly man growled. “I’m here for the girl and boy you bought. Slaving’s illegal in this town, and if you don’t comply, I’ll have to take you in.”
Hendric growled in his throat. “The woman is my mate, and the boy is my son. They’re not going anywhere.”
The wrinkled woman let out a furious hiss. “You can’t buy mates!”
“He didn’t.” Sylvia rushed forward as the burly man grasped his sword handle. “We were already mates. Me and our son,” it felt seriously weird to refer to a child she’d known for two days as her son, almost as weird as referring to a man she barely knew as her mate, “were kidnapped. My mate here bought us to get us away from the slavers. Because there were too many of them to fight.”
The burly man stared hard at her for a moment. “You aren’t wearing a ring.”
Sylvia glanced at her hand, light glinting off her glasses. “Oh, we’re not married, just mates.”
“That’s not how we do things around here,” the man growled at her, looking at her with the disgust she had only seen in her neighbors’ eyes when her siblings went running around the neighborhood, playing games as children before they moved to Utah. “If you are going to live together, then you will be properly married. Otherwise, you and your son will go to the unwed mother’s shelter.”
Sylvia opened her mouth to protest. What did he care about whether they were married or not?
“If we’re married, you’ll leave us alone?” Hendric demanded.
The burly man nodded.
“Then tell us where to go, and we’ll properly marry.”
After the man was gone, Sylvia stared blankly at Hendric. Her mind skipped over everything that it wanted to say—that he was seriously attractive and that if there was anybody that she wanted to marry, it would be him. Instead, her mind was wrapped around that whole marriage thing. It made no sense that she wouldn’t be allowed to be in the same house as him if they weren’t married!
“Once we get back to civilization, we will get a divorce,” he assured her, though he didn’t look at her. “But marrying you right now is the best way to protect you.”
He rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted. Sylvia put a hand on his shoulder, trying without words to show him that she understood. Even if her heart was pounding and her mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. Would he expect her to consummate their marriage? Heat flashed through her at the thought of him laying over her, his body against hers, inside of hers. It made her throat go dry—if he did expect her to sleep with him, would she even want to say no?
***
Their wedding happened quickly. They went to an inn, the nicest building in the town. The burly man officiated their wedding, with the wrinkled woman chanting occasionally over their joined hands. Bands of magic wrapped around them. Whether this was physically binding them together or just symbolism, she didn’t know.
The burly man finished and pointed at the stairs. “You have a room free for two hours. Go complete your bond and then you are free to be with each other.”
Hendric didn’t respond as he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her way. Sylvia glanced back to see Warmund, scowling, standing next to Avas. She hesitated a moment, not sure about leaving the boy with such a grumpy-looking man, but the glare from the burly man had her walking a little quicker. She lifted the skirts of the dress she’d been wearing for close to a week now as Hendric led her to the first bedroom.
With a sigh, he shut the door and turned to her. “Well. I had hoped they wouldn’t have a mage.”
Sylvia twitched uncertainly, glancing around the room. The bed looked sturdy enough, but the rest of it looked like something from a horror flick. Her skin crawled just seeing it all.
“What difference does the mage make?”
Hendric held up his head, showing her the plain wooden ring he’d quickly carved for himself. Bits of blue magic crackled around it. “Until we have… consummated the marriage, then everyone will see that the bond isn’t complete yet. Once it’s been done, then the magic will turn gold and they’ll know you aren’t to be touched. I don’t think we can convince the magistrate...”
He was saying that they needed to sleep together. Her stomach cramped, though whether that was nerves or excitement or dread she didn’t know. A nervous laugh escaped her as she glanced at her own wooden ring. The same blue magic crackled around it, like electricity. She found herself smoothing her skirt and cleared her throat. What was there to say?
Hendric didn’t look at her, instead fiddling with the ties on his jerkin. The expression on his face, anger mingled with regret, cooled the heat that had been swirling through her body. Even if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted him or not, it was clear he didn’t want her.
She sat on the bed. “What are we going to do, then?”
“I… I am not going to compel you. You deserve to choose when and who with you share your body, without outside constraints.” He glanced at her and looked away. “Just give me a moment to consider how to get out of this.”
“Tell him I find the place skeevy.” Sylvia glanced around the room and shuddered. “I don’t exactly relish the idea of getting naked here at all, let alone losing my virginity here.”
Hendric’s head jerked up. “You’re a virgin?”
Sylvia’s face filled with heat. “Uh… I didn’t really mean to tell you that. I mean, it’s… it’s personal, you know? But, yeah, I am. The farthest I’ve been is first base.”
“First… what?”
“Kissing,” Sylvia explained. “Open-mouthed. Lots of tongue.”
She imagined her open mouth on Hendric’s and let out a soft sigh. If only this was a dream, she’d go for it without hesitation. But the situation, the fact she barely knew him and this disgusting room? No amount of tingling skin and heat pooling in her core was going to change her mind here. Not when she had as much experience as she did at denying her hormones to override her brain.
Hendric sank onto the bed next to her, frowning. “If it’s not too much to ask… why? I had the impression that Earth was less… stringent about sex for women than Byrelmore.”
“Not really.” Sylvia shrugged. “You get different cultures who see sex differently. Where I grew up, sex outside of marriage was seen as being almost as bad as murder. I rejected that view a long time ago, but, for me, it’s something that should be special. I don’t care what other people do with their bodies,” she added quickly. “It’s none of my business, and, quite frankly, it’s not my place to judge. But that’s what I want for me. I’m waiting for someone I really care about.”
Hendr
ic nodded slowly. “That is… I think it’s a wise choice. I didn’t. Avas’s mother… she got pregnant when we didn’t know each other. We married because it seemed like the right thing to do. And then it turned out we didn’t get along at all. She never wanted to be a mother. So, we divorced, and she left.”
Sylvia shook her head, her fists curling. How could someone abandon their own child like that? “It must have been hard.”
“It was. But it was probably for the best. For all of us.” Hendric sighed, then stood. “Skeevy, you said?”
“Yeah. Just really gross and creepy.”
Hendric considered for a moment before he nodded. “If the magistrate is so concerned with being proper, then he won’t be able to argue over saving our honeymoon for a more opportune moment. I’ll go speak with him.”
He slipped from the room and Sylvia let herself fall to the bed. Then she thought about bedbugs and quickly got up, wiping her dress off. She shuddered. Maybe there was a moment of weakness in her, but she was glad she hadn’t given in. This place reeked of what would have been her biggest regret.
Chapter Six
Hendric
The magistrate looked suspicious when Hendric came to him and informed him that he and Sylvia would not be consummating their marriage in this place. He allowed them to leave, though. Hendric was grateful for that. Being alone with Sylvia, even in the ‘skeevy’ room had made his fires roar. Desire coursed through him just being near her. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to ask her to lay with him and seal this marriage. It would be much harder to divorce than it would be to simply have an unconsummated marriage annulled once they were back at the palace.
And she was a virgin who wanted her first time to be with someone she cared about. Hendric had no doubt that both of them could give into desire. He’d seen it in her eyes. That would only lead to heartache, though. There was a reason why he didn’t have casual sex anymore.
The Dragon Beast's Virgin: A Paranormal Romance (Separated by Time Book 3) Page 3
