Alien Dragon's Spawn (Dragons of Arcturus Book 1)

by Lizzy Bequin

  “Of course! England. That is the name of your village, yes?”

  Katrine shook her head in frustration, started to explain, then stopped. Why was she talking to a dragon like this? And why was she the one being interviewed? If anything, she should be the one asking the questions.

  “How can you speak English but not know what English is?”

  The dragon huffed, its hot breath ruffling Katrine’s curls back from her neck and forehead. The warmth also ghosted over her naked breasts, tingling her nipples, and she became suddenly and acutely aware of the fact that she was topless. Her arms shot to her chest, crossing in front to cover herself. Heat flushed up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “You are my atma,” the dragon said. “We share a psychic bond.”

  “You mean you can read my mind?”

  “No. Not completely. But I can sense your emotions. And I can communicate with you in words that you will understand.”

  An enormous, bone-colored claw reached forward and delicately pried Katrine’s arms away from her chest.

  “Do not hide your mammary glands from me, atma. I wish to gaze upon them.”

  The fiery golden eyes dipped ever so slightly to stare at her naked breasts. Katrine’s nipples pebbled as if they were aware they were being watched. A second wave of heat flushed upward into her face, and something ticklish fluttered in her lower belly.

  Immediately, Katrine covered herself again. The dragon snorted at her disobedience.

  “Mammary glands?” She said. “Seriously?”

  This dragon knew the word mammary, but it didn’t know the word English? What the hell?

  “Yes,” the dragon hissed. “Your glands are quite lovely.”

  His claw reached for her again, but this time Katrine flinched away. The dragon noticed the reaction and paused.

  “You are afraid of me?” it asked.

  “I mean, you’re a dragon,” Katrine whimpered.

  “I see. Would you prefer that I assume a less frightening appearance? Something closer to your own?”

  Katrine wasn’t exactly sure what the dragon was getting at, but she nodded her head anyway. Less frightening sounded good.

  “All right,” the dragon rumbled. “I have seen the males of your species before, but I have not studied them carefully. I will do my best to mimic one, but I will need you to guide me.”

  The dragon drew a slow, deep breath. The force of his lungs was so great that Katrine’s hair was swept forward by the suction of that inhale. For a moment, the dragon held its breath, and then it began to exhale. As it did so, something remarkable happened.

  The air between Katrine and the dragon crackled with energy.

  Her curls lifted as by static electricity.

  And the massive winged dragon started to shrink.

  Not only did it shrink, however, but its shape changed as well. The heavy rear legs, with the doubled joints like a tiger’s or a wolf’s shifted into a straighter alignment. The torso morphed into an upright posture, and the forelimbs transformed into an approximation of human arms.

  It was, however, only a rough approximation.

  Yes, the proportions were now more or less those of a normal man, if a normal man were seven feet tall. But the bulging muscles were wrapped not in human skin, but in glittering ruby scales. The wings were still there, outstretched from the back like the wings of a giant crimson bat. The tail lay on the floor around the creature’s clawed toes.

  Then there was the face. It had morphed into something halfway between a dragon’s and a man’s. The white, bony protrusions still studded the skull, sticking out between lank strips of dark hair. The serpentine eyes gleamed yellow beneath bumpy red brows. A hideous grin split the face from ear to ear, revealing a mouthful of needle-sharp fangs.

  “Is this better, my little atma?”

  The shifted demon-thing took a step toward Katrine and reached for her with inhuman, clawed fingers. She shrieked and tumbled backward to the stone floor in an avalanche of pillows.

  What the fuck was that thing?

  In front of her, the mound of pillows shook, and the cushions were flung aside left and right, making way for the awful red creature that strode forward like something from a nightmare.

  “Atma, what is wrong?” The creature hissed. “Does my new form not please you?”

  “No!” Katrine shouted as the claws reached for her again. She was both answering the question and refusing the monster’s touch.

  The dragon-demon-man halted in his tracks.

  “No?” he grunted and looked his new body over. “What aspect does not please you? I can take on many forms, but I require your guidance.”

  Katrine shuddered. She was sitting on the floor looking up at the thing towering over her. The flickering light of the fire cast fearsome dancing shadows onto the floors and walls of the chamber—shadows of horns and leathery wings.

  At last, gathering her composure, Katrine pointed toward his body.

  “Your scales,” she stammered. “Can you change them to, um, skin?”

  That nightmare grin widened, and Katrine’s heart seized with terror at the sight.

  “Of course. Of course. How stupid of me to neglect that detail.”

  Katrine watched in amazement as a wave rolled across the creature’s chest and abdomen, the scales bristling and then sinking back into the muscles, leaving behind a surface of smooth, tanned skin.

  Very smooth, and very tan.

  “Better?”

  Katrine’s eyes flicked back to the face, and she gasped. The monster’s face was now skin-covered as well, but the horrible structure of the bones underneath was still the same. Somehow, the effect was even more grotesque.

  And involuntary cry of fear and repulsion left her lips.

  The creature’s fang-ridden grin drooped into a frown.

  “Something is still wrong, isn’t it?”

  Katrine swallowed and found her voice.

  “Can you do something about…” she waved her hand in a circular motion in front of her own face. “About all this?”

  “My face? Hm, let me try.”

  The creature closed its eyes and seemed to be concentrating very hard. The bones beneath the face began to stretch and shift, pushing at the skin stretched over them. At first, the transition seemed to be going in the wrong direction, toward something even more monstrous. However, in another instant, the pieces fell back into place, forming what Katrine had to admit was a very passable human face.

  In fact, if there was anything wrong with the face, it was that it was a bit too handsome. No real guy looked that good.

  The eyes remained closed beneath the shelf of the straight, slightly heavy brows. In between, a straight, attractive nose with just the slightest crook that could have been chiseled by a master sculptor. Sharp, angled cheekbones slashed downward to a surprisingly sensitive mouth. A strong, angled jawline came together in a squared-off chin that was notched with a sexy cleft.

  Katrine actually caught herself leaning forward slightly as if drawn to that face by gravity.

  Then the eyelids shot open, revealing the unchanged eyes beneath, and Katrine yelped. The combination of that perfect, handsome face inset with a pair of yellow dragon’s eyes was unsettling.

  And yet…there was something weirdly alluring about the combination as well.

  Katrine couldn’t help letting her eyes wander over the dragon’s new body. Her gaze followed the flow of the lustrous black hair that tumbled over his meaty shoulders. His powerful arms were still covered in red, snake-like scales, but somehow she found that enticing, especially in contrast to the supple skin of his chest and carved abdomen.

  Her eyes trailed lower, following the etched line that slashed from his hips to his groin. And then she saw...it.

  Katrine gulped, and her eyes shot back to the man’s face. Because yes, he was most definitely a man now. The tips of Katrine’s ears scalded with heat at what she had just seen.

  The man’s yellow e
yes glinted mischievously.

  His shapely lips spread in a grin once more. This time, the white teeth that were revealed were not fangs, but a perfect, radiant smile. Only the canines remained sharp and overdeveloped.

  “This form pleases my atma. I can tell.”

  “Look, it’s an improvement, okay. But to say it pleases me? That’s a bit of a stretch.”

  The dragon man furrowed his brow.

  “Really? But the buds on your mammary glands have grown firm…”

  Her hands abruptly raised, covering her breasts again. The dragon man was right, her nipples were springy and sensitive with shameful arousal.

  “…and the scent from between your legs has increased. It is quite intoxicating.”

  Katrine dropped one hand to her lap, covered her crotch beneath her primitive grass skirt.

  The dragon man folded his wings back and knelt. Katrine trembled, using all of her concentration to keep her eyes on his ridiculously handsome face. Whatever she did, she mustn’t look again at that thing dangling between his legs.

  The dragon man reached for her hands, and she tightened.

  “Why do you hide your body from me, my atma?”

  “You keep calling me that. You keep calling me atma.”

  The dragon man smiled and nodded.

  “What does it mean?” asked Katrine.

  “Atma?” The dragon man thought for a moment. “An atma is a dragon’s mate. A brood mother. The bearer of spawn.”

  Katrine felt certain she must have misunderstood.

  “You mean…”

  “Yes,” the dragon man nodded. “You will carry my offspring, atma. I will put them inside you.”

  The cry that exploded from Katrine’s mouth and reverberated around the chamber was so loud that it startled even herself.

  CHAPTER 10

  “What?”

  Skalamagdrion flinched at the female’s shout. Even the flames in the great stone fireplace seemed to draw back temporarily in fright.

  His atma was displeased.

  Skalamagdrion reached for her with his new human-form hands, but she pulled away from him.

  “What is wrong, my little atma?”

  “Stop calling me that!” she shouted.

  “But that is what you are.”

  The female shook her head from side to side, bouncing her lustrous, curly mane in the process.

  “Listen, you can’t just put your baby dragons into me,” she said. “You don’t even know my name, do you?”

  Skalamagdrion had not even considered this seemingly obvious point. As far as he was concerned, the human was his atma, and that was the only name she would ever need. But perhaps among her people it was common to share such details before partaking in the act of mating and procreation. He decided to indulge her.

  “All right, then. What is your name?”

  The female opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and glared at him defiantly. There was something in that challenging look that excited him.

  “If I tell you my name, it doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to mate with you, got it?”

  Skalamagdrion suppressed a smirk. How funny his little human atma was. Agree to mate with him? As though it were her place to choose. Their bond had been decreed by Fate since before the dawning of time. That much was clear from her scent and from his dreams.

  But he decided to humor her. Besides, he was curious.

  “Fine,” he said with a nod.

  At that, the female seemed to relax just a little. Some of the tension left her shoulders and smoothed the features of her pretty face.

  “Katrine,” she said softly. “My name is Katrine.” Then, after a beat, she added. “My friends call me Kat.”

  Skalamagdrion exploded with laughter. He tossed his head back and guffawed so hard that orange sparks whirled from his throat. He laughed until his ribs ached.

  The female took a frightened step back, but after a moment her fright transitioned to anger and her pretty eyebrows scrunched together.

  “What is so funny?” she asked.

  Skalamagdrion caught his breath.

  “Your name is very funny,” he said, still chuckling. “Cat. It is a good name, for I can see you are as ferocious as a scimitar cat, indeed.”

  His pretty little cat scowled at him.

  “Not that kind of cat,” she said. “Kat with a K. It’s just a nickname. Anyway, what should I call you?”

  At that question, he spread his wings proudly, puffed out his chest, and answered, “You may call me Skalamagdrion.”

  Kat just blinked at him.

  “Skala-what?”

  “Skalamagdrion,” he repeated, his pride now tinted with annoyance. “The seventh son of the great Skalamagdrinox, Dragonlord of Arcturus.”

  The human female stared at him blankly, then it was her turn to burst out laughing.

  “Seriously? You’re going to make fun of my name Mr. Skallywag-dragon?”

  He growled until plumes of smoke curled from his nostrils. Kat’s face blanched and her smile disappeared.

  “It is Skalamagdrion,” the dragon man answered gruffly. “If that is too difficult for you to remember, you may call me Skal for short.”

  Kat nodded. “Skal. That’s less of a mouthful.”

  Good. With that little formality out of the way, they could finally get down to business.

  Skal took another step toward Kat. Now that he had taken on a human form, or something resembling human at least, he found her ripe little body to be even more irresistible. The light from the fireplace painted her skin a lovely golden hue, and her eyes glimmered like smoky stars. His egg sacs throbbed with the desire to implant his offspring within her incubation chamber.

  But his atma was still wary of him. She stepped back. The fireplace blocked her escape. This time his tail was not there to save her, but when she felt the heat on her backside, she stumbled forward again, bumping into him.

  “Kat,” he purred to her. “My atma.”

  Instinctively his arms coiled around her, fitting so perfectly around the curve of her lower back. Her soft breasts flattened against the hard muscles of his front. Her head tilted back and her lips trembled open, and Skal braced himself for another one of those piercing shrieks that she was so fond of making.

  But this time, no shriek came. Merely a shaky question.

  “What are you going to do to me?” She asked in a voice that wavered like the flames on the hearth.

  “I’m going to breed you, my atma. All night long.”

  Kat’s eyes rounded to almost perfect circles, and Skal sensed a pulse of heat from between her thighs, underneath her simple skirt. Though he had not seen beneath that garment, he knew there must be an opening there—a channel into which he could insert his ovipositor.

  For an instant, he hated that stupid skirt of weeds and rushes that hid that treasure from him. His muscles tensed, and he felt himself on the verge of ripping that crude garment away so that he could claim what belonged to him.

  But something else distracted him.

  There it was again. That little tremor in Kat’s plush, pink lower lip. He felt a sudden impulse to touch her there, to press his own lips to hers. His psychic bond with his atma told him this was part of the mating ritual for her people.

  He leaned down to meet her uptilted face and brushed his lips against hers.

  Kat moaned lightly. He tasted her warm, smoke-scented breath. Something like tiny lightning crackled between their lips. It sent shocks rippling all through his new body. His ovipositor began to swell with arousal.

  Kat gasped again, this time from surprise. She had felt him growing rigid, and it had startled her. She patted her tiny palms against the expanse of his chest.

  “Wait,” she cried. “Skal, what are you doing?”

  “I am mouth-pushing you.”

  Kat shook her head and blinked. “Mouth-pushing?”

  “I do not know the proper word for this practice, but I sense that your people find it p
leasurable, and I would like to try it with you.”

  “It’s called kissing,” Kat sighed. She had relaxed a little, but her hands were still pressed against his chest, holding him off. Not that her weak hands could stop him if he chose to throw her down on the stone floor and take her by force.

  But Skal had waited centuries for his atma.

  He could be patient a little while longer.

  “Kissing?” Skal shrugged. His term made more sense, but it didn’t matter what it was called. All that mattered was that he wanted to do it very badly.

  He pulled Kat closer to him and claimed her mouth, roughly crushing his lips against hers. She whimpered and mewled into his mouth, but she did not resist. Her body stiffened at first in surprise, but as the kiss deepened and the heat between them grew, she relaxed. Her body melted into his just as their lips seemed to melt together until it became difficult to tell exactly where one of them ended and the other one began.

  At last, however, with a tiny cry, she pulled away again.

  “Skal wait,” she said, gasping. “We can’t do this.”

  “Of course we can.”

  “No please, you don’t understand. Skal, my friends are in trouble, and I need to find them.”

  Skal did not like this interruption. He sensed this would greatly delay the mating he desired. Perhaps his patience was not as limitless as he had thought. The kiss had whet his appetite something fierce.

  Still, he was curious about Kat’s friends. And it was clearly of great importance to her.

  “Your friends are in the village?” he asked while he plucked a stray curl that had caught in the corner of her lips.

  “No, not in the village,” she said hurriedly. “At least I hope not.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And I don’t have time to explain. Skal, my friends are in danger. I need to find them and I need you to help me.”

  “But how can I help you if you don’t explain it to me?”

  Kat let out an exasperated exhalation.

  “Fine.” She glanced down at his body pressed to hers, then over at the heap of pillows which had been partly scattered from before. “Maybe we could, you know, sit down to talk.”

  “Very well.”