Golden Embrace
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Shadowed Lies - Prologue
Shadowed Lies - Chapter One
Golden Embrace
Soul of a Dragon (An Interlude)
Clara Hartley
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Afterword
Shadowed Lies - Prologue
Shadowed Lies - Chapter One
Chapter 1
Diovan the Dragon Whore. Diovan wasn't sure if he liked his new title. The redhead he had just bedded told him about the rumor spreading about him. She wanted to know if he was being unfaithful. He frankly replied that he had never been an item with her in the first place. He was chased out with a pair of slippers and a slap to his face. It didn't hurt, but he understood he had outstayed his welcome, and saw no point in fighting to stay.
Why that title, though? He'd much prefer something along the lines of "Diovan, the Dragon with the Magnificent Cock."
Then again, that was quite the mouthful, in more ways than one.
His wings glided against the warm Ocharian winds, letting the scent of swampy nature swirl to his nostrils. He liked the green smell of the swamplands, and how earthy it was. It was next to his home in the Ocharian mountains, and separated the mountains from the nearby town, where his female conquests slept.
He had to stop the name, the Dragon Whore, from spreading soon. Once it reached the ears of Cyrion, his friend wouldn't let him hear the end of it. Other dragons had much better names—the Black Dread, the Red Beast, the Eastern Terror.
Why did he have to get "the Dragon Whore"? Even though he didn't want a name that would command fear—a terrifying one would simply make it more difficult to seduce women—the one the common folk coined him didn't sound like something that would make women swoon either.
Using his wings, he soared through the Ocharian jungle, looking for prey.
His sharp eyesight sighted of a group of leather-clad women, running along a stream and chasing after bush mice.
Women?
He smiled—mentally, anyway, because dragons didn't have the facial muscles to smile. He could have a nice meal with the bush mice, then a temporary companion on the side for a quick afternoon romp. He noted to himself that he was the master at terrorizing the hearts of women.
He followed the group of females, trailing behind slightly so they couldn't look up and spot him. Then, swiftly, he swooped down and landed on the bush mice, feeling their bones crack under his talons. He couldn't resist burning one and swallowing it whole. He hadn't gone hunting in a day, so his stomach rumbled with a warning of hunger. The redhead had given him bread earlier, but mere bread couldn't satisfy a dragon's monstrous appetite.
"Dragon!" a particularly attractive woman shouted.
Her glistening copper skin, raven hair that glowed in the sun, and sparkling violet eyes distracted him from the icy smoke she was cradling in her hands. Icy smoke? Her beauty kept him from properly thinking. It was only when she directed a chilly blast to his feet, and he felt the merciless sting of ice, that he realized she was using magic.
Behind her, other witches were also casting spells.
They'd kill him at this rate.
Goddess fucking hell. He thought these women defenseless. Most females often were. He had imagined himself to subdue them, offer them food, then charm them. That was his plan, at least, and it had backfired horribly.
He quickly shifted back into human form. Bad idea—transforming in front of them left him vulnerable. Another sharp pain reached his abdomen. He tumbled, in a half-dragon, half-human form, into the bushes, where some trees shielded him. He winced, hearing the splash of magic against the wood. Shifting back often hurt, and the pain of the icy magic wasn't making the aching of his bones snapping any better.
"Wait!" he said behind the veil of the tree bark, as soon as he could speak. "I mean no harm."
The copper-skinned woman—they were all copper-skinned, but she was the most striking of them all—said, "You stole our catch."
"I was helping. Look, these bush mice are dead now. You have your meals."
"We needed them alive or freshly dead to properly harvest their souls. You've ruined our plans."
"Oh… uh…" Words escaped him. He couldn't stop looking at her face. It was angular, but still feminine, however that worked. Her frame was built and sinewy, yet curvy in the right places, with just the right amount of ass to grab and dig his paws into. He'd never wanted to have a woman as much as he wanted her.
A tingle of fright rose in him.
She couldn't be… his mate, could she?
He felt his inner dragon stir with wanting, purring at the possibilities. Thoughts about claiming her and making her just his overwhelmed his head. But then… his reputation, his women. Were his days of playing around over?
"I'm sorry. I'll just be on my way now." He didn't want to leave her, but his frosted feet reminded him of how outmatched he was.
The woman folded her arms.
She looked glorious even when angry. "I'm tempted to take you in."
"If you let me go, I promise the next time I try to help, I'll keep the mice alive. It's good to have an ally in the skies."
One of her companions whispered something into her ear. She shook her head.
"I'll let you go," she said.
Diovan raised his brows. "That easily?" Perhaps the Mother favored him today. Maybe it was because they were seeing him naked, and were impressed by his enormous cock. After all, it was magnificent.
The woman waved. "I'd rather not make enemies if I don't have to. Don't bother us again, dragon."
He shook his feet. The ice there still hurt. He willed that part of his body to warm up more. "That's a shame. I wouldn't mind adding 'bothering you' to my list of agendas." Was he coming on too strongly?
She squinted at him. "Are you trying to make me change my mind about not frosting your balls off?"
Goddess's teats. Flirtatious words usually worked well when wooing women. They didn't even have to be that smart. His looks made up for how terrible his advances were sometimes. He supposed this female wasn't like most women. It made the challenge more exciting for him. He raised his hands in defeat. "You hurt my feelings. I'll leave. It's hard to refuse commands from one as"—he couldn't help but let his eyes wander to her ample chest—"well endow—" He caught himself before he said something that made him lose the tip of his tail. "As well versed as yourself."
He flashed her a toothy grin before shifting back into his dragon form.
"Es rea misreagou, kisla misreagou," Aryana chanted, calling upon the souls of the remaining bush mice. She transferred the souls to the empty soul beads she carried with her. "Couela misreagou." The glasslike beads sucked up the souls. She
picked them up and strung them onto the line of beads she kept strapped to her belt.
The sounds of chittering Geckari, large, lizard-like, wingless creatures who served as their mules, played from her side. She and her witches were on the edge of a swamp, trying to scavenge whatever was left behind after that dragon ruined their catch.
Aryana belonged to the water witches. One of their ancient ancestors had invented the soul beads. Previously, witches had to carry sacrifices around for slaughter whenever they needed to cast a spell. It was terribly inefficient, and it didn't allow them to cast many spells when traveling because of the inconvenience of lugging large animals around.
"How many did we waste?" Aryana asked one of her companions.
The witch next to her, Kealin, sighed. "At least three-quarters of the bush mice. We didn't have enough beads, and I think the time wasted talking to the dragon made a lot of their souls vanish before we could harvest them. We can still use their pelts and meat, however."
Aryana tried to ignore how attractive that dragon was. The image of him still lingered in her mind, like a mosquito she couldn't swat away. "We needed their souls the most."
"Why didn't we kill the dragon?"
She frowned. "Our teachings don't let us kill unnecessarily, Kealin. The goddess disapproves of it."
Kealin tied the bush mice up into a bundle. "I'm sure it doesn't apply to dragons."
"It applies to all higher beings. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if we should be eating meat, or using souls this recklessly. Continue gathering the souls of whatever bush mice you can find, although I don't think you will find many. We'll have to announce that the catch today was unsuccessful."
"Yes, second seeker." Kealin bowed her head, then went to do as told. As second seeker of the water witch tribe, Aryana was second-in-command. Her sister, Enid, was high seeker and in command. Enid was the only person Aryana had to answer to.
As they traveled back on the rumps of the Geckari, her mind wandered to the dragon they'd met. He had long, disheveled blond hair. His eyes were the brightest blue she'd ever seen. His body rippled even with the slightest of movements. And that grin… She couldn't get the image of him out of her mind.
His charming features were in stark contrast to the men of the water witches.
Aryana rode through the numerous swamps of Ocharia, hearing the sloshing of mud and water as the Geckari waded through. They reached the entrance of their encampment after an hour of trekking. The water witches were nomadic, and often changed locations after hunting clear an area of Ocharia.
A shoddily built entrance, made of stilts and ropes, greeted them.
Aryana parked her Geckari with the animal-keepers and slid off its hide. She took a crate of bush mice from the Geckari's back before walking across the encampment. In there, many males trailed after their women, eager to serve.
Most of them were thin, with dull, brown eyes. They didn't share the same masculine demeanor of that dragon.
She should have found his masculinity despicable. Their tribe preferred men who were subservient and capable of serving women. She found the dragon ridiculously attractive, however. He drew her in like a flame to a moth. Enid would kill her if she ever found out that Aryana dreamed of being the one taken care of instead of the other way around.
Despite how attractive he was, the dragon had angered her. That was the largest group of bush mice she'd seen in a long while. It could have been their biggest harvest of the year, instead, it ended up becoming a disappointment.
Why was she so drawn to him? She passed the crate of bush mice—all dead—to the cooks, before walking over to her sister's place.
Aryana entered Enid's tent. The tent was made out of tightly woven fur coats of mammals, and barely allowed any sunlight in. Enid lit the place up with a bright glow of light magic. Sometimes, however, they used candles, when souls were short, and Aryana supposed that the time was coming soon. Enid had her scrolls and ledgers properly stacked and categorized around her workplace. A neatly made straw bed lay across the large tent, opposite the low table.
Always, the first thing Aryana did after arriving home was to greet her sister.
"Bad news?" Enid asked, still scribbling in her scrolls.
"Where is Qovan?"
Qovan was Enid's male-in-waiting. He commonly accompanied Enid. They loved each other. Aryana could tell from the way they shared looks. Qovan never said much, however. He was the perfect, subservient male-in-waiting.
"He stayed home to take care of the children. Our child-carer fell sick today." Enid was built strongly. Her arms were as thick as tree trunks and ample enough to rival the average male. Enid's skin was darker than Aryana's. She always wore her hair in a braid, as most water witches did.
Aryana sat down and took a swig of her sister's water. She'd run out of water during the three-hour hunt. "A dragon got in the way. We have more souls, and some bush mice carcasses. But two-thirds less magic than we would have gotten if that dragon didn't interfere."
"I hate dragons." Enid clenched her jaw.
"You've made that plenty clear."
"They killed our parents. You don't remember, but I recall every detail of their slaughter." Enid's eyes flashed anger, before dulling again. "I don't expect you to remember."
"I simply see them as beasts," Aryana said.
"Did you kill it?" Enid asked. "That dragon who ruined your catch?"
"Goddess Kroasha wouldn't agree with such actions."
Enid ran a hand down her braid. "I suppose."
Aryana set the flask down. "You would have done the same and let it go, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe." Enid darted her eyes to the ground.
"Did anything happen when I was out hunting?" Aryana asked. Most of the witches reported directly to Enid, since she was first-in-command, so she was always the most updated of the clan.
"There are sightings of the Red Beast circling our tribe. More dragons are interfering with the neighboring villages, too. It seems like their god or something has awoken. The Dragon Mother? It's making them restless."
"Should we help the villagers? They might give us supplies."
"We don't interfere with common folk unless we need to, Aryana."
"It's better than raiding them."
Enid leaned back into her chair. "We're not in desperate need of supplies yet. But we might be soon."
"Why?"
"You're not the first witch to encounter a dragon. One of them just killed one of our witches."
Aryana straightened. "Who?"
"Justinia's daughter."
"That's horrible." Aryana hadn't been close to the girl, but she recalled a rosy-cheeked grin and a sweet disposition. It wasn't right that she'd died so young.
Enid set her quill down. "It didn't even take her body. And witnesses said the dragon wasn't provoked. It killed for fun, I think. Or perhaps the dragons are planning something. Be cautious. I don't know what they have in mind, but we should probably start gathering more souls and training the fighters more intensively. How is training?"
When Aryana didn't lead hunts, her main job was to supervise the practice of their more talented witches. She was rumored to be the most adept at magic in their clan. Even more so than Enid. Aryana had never had to opportunity to test out those rumors. She had no desire to.
Aryana shifted her weight to her other leg. "The new ones are warming up to magic, slowly. They're learning how to make herbs grow faster."
"Change the curriculum. Make them learn more ice spells and other spells related to subduing dragons."
"Should we? It might impede our food and herb supply."
Enid pressed her lips together. "We'll focus more on hunting instead of gathering fruits and herbs. We really need to hoard more souls."
"Understood."
"Is there anything else?"
"How are you feeling?"
Enid rubbed her eyes. "The usual. Tired and exhausted from managing everyone. I'll survive."
"You h
aven't been skipping meals again, have you?"
"Don't worry about me, sister. If you want to help, then be good at your job. It'll rest my mind more to know that our witches are well trained in fighting dragons."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Enid sighed and continued looking through the scrolls. "Let's hope."
Aryana nodded, then left the tent. She still had half the day to spare. A group of recruits were probably waiting for her in the training section of their encampment. Practice often started in the afternoon.
She considered what Enid had said about dragons. Was the gold dragon she saw this morning a piece of a larger plan? Part of her hoped she didn't meet him again, so she didn't have to keep her guard up, but something told her that wouldn't be the case.
Another part of her was so eager to meet that blond male again that she couldn't help but worry that her emotions were betraying her.
Chapter 2
Diovan snatched a large, burnt piece of an animal's leg from his friend Cyrion. "Where did you get this?" he asked, shaking the oversized drumstick. The cave, big enough to house at least a hundred grown men, was their home. A smattering of unkempt mattresses lay all over the place. The dragon men he bunked with weren't the neatest, and since all of them were single, there weren't women to tidy up, or force them to be neat.
"Hey, that's mine." Cyrion said, twisting his face in anger. Cyrion was a brown-skinned male with a head so bald that Diovan thought he could shine his boots on it. Cyrion had the most dashing of smiles—second to Diovan's, of course—and also the meanest of scowls. He preferred to walk around with his shirt off, which Diovan did not enjoy, for Cyrion had a chest so hairy that Diovan had to wonder why his head was so bald. Cyrion still managed to attract the ladies, despite his unshaven chest. Maybe the women liked his rugged look… and that smile. His physique wasn't anything to sneeze at either, not that Diovan paid much attention to it. Diovan was a woman's man, through and through.