Diovan took small sips of the piss-like ale, before remembering he hated it, and set his mug down. Cyrion didn't seem to mind, so Diovan let himself get away with not fulfilling his end of their gamble.
Diovan shook his head. "I will not hear the end of this discussion." He glanced outside. The sun had reached the horizon of mountains. A golden hue bathed the landscape.
"I'm just saying." Cyrion shrugged and folded his arms.
Diovan stood then stalked to the exit. "It's out of the question."
"Give it a second thought."
"No. Today is going to be a good day for me. I have plans for tonight, and I'm not going to let you ruin them."
"You have plans every night. Always with a different girl. We'll never have this talk at this rate."
"We've had the talk. Plenty of times. The answer has always been the same."
"Stubborn ass."
He flashed yellow eyes at Cyrion. "I'm the leader of the group. I have the final word."
"Maybe someone less cowardly should be leader."
Diovan willed himself to not punch Cyrion's face. "I dare you to say that again."
"You heard me." Cyrion kept his gaze firm. Silence sliced through the air. Leon snored, interrupting the quiet.
"Enough of this," Diovan said. "And you ought to keep that mouth of yours shut before I sew it up."
"If you manage to put the thread through the needle, feel free to do so. But honestly, I can't imagine you sewing."
Diovan called to his dragon side and distracted his thoughts with his mate.
Wait.
Mate?
Where did that come from?
Aryana paced through her dark tent. A hammock lay close to the entrance, and she had a low mattress splayed on the ground. Haphazard herbs and materials lay across her room. She wasn't one to clean up messes. Other witches had males-in-waiting to tidy for them. She hadn't found a man to tie herself down with yet.
The sun had set.
That gold dragon would be here any minute.
"This is a bad idea," she muttered to herself. "I should take this chance to take away his powers, tie him up, and hand him over to Enid. Enid would be pleased. He's the enemy. A dragon killed your parents." What was she doing, walking back and forth like a woman gone utterly mad?
The answer was apparent. She shouldn't be, quite literally, sleeping with the enemy.
I'll be damned if Enid ever finds out about this.
What in the world had driven her to make such a stupid promise yesterday? All she could sense was a strong aching for that man, Diovan. It was as if her soul called out to him. Maybe she simply hadn't gotten enough action for too long, and when a more-than-moderately-attractive man came ambling along, her body started to thrum for him. Traitorous teats.
She didn't have to sleep with Diovan. There were plenty of young males in their tribe eager to serve her. She was second seeker. It'd be an honor for them to pleasure her.
But they'd be submissive, as they were trained to be. They wouldn't be able to tease her like an aggressive man would in bed.
She mentally scolded herself for such unorthodox thoughts. She was supposed to lust for a submissive man. They were prized in their tribe.
But she'd heard stories of valiant warriors saving princesses and taking care of their wives. Other witches found them worth of disdain.
Not her. Her brain didn't work the proper way. She found those warriors, only sung of in tales, appealing.
"Nervous?"
She startled and quickly muttered a spell, stinging the intruder with her go-to fire spell.
"Fire?" Diovan said, pushing into her tent and rolling back his shoulders. "You should know that fire doesn't hurt dragons."
She palmed her forehead. "I didn't know it was you. Sorry."
"It didn't hurt." He sat on her stool and picked up a greennut from her table side. He popped it into his mouth. His guard was completely down. She could take him out right then, tie him up, restrain him…
…then do delectable things to his cock.
Kroasha's nipples.
What was wrong with her? This was the first time a man had made her this… this… wrong. Such thoughts usually never came to her. Worrying about her tribe often took up most of her mental capacity, leaving her little time to ponder over things like that.
Yet ever since she'd laid eyes upon Diovan, with his hard-lined jaw and cheeky disposition, she couldn't stop thinking about him, and the things he would do to her.
She decided to go against all reason, and pulled her shirt up, revealing her bound breasts beneath. She unraveled the cloth around her chest, letting her mounds spill out.
His brows shot up. "Going to skip all the frilly bits?" He popped another greennut into his mouth, slower this time. "I'm liking the show."
She dragged her pants off her legs. "I'm not sure what kind of spell you've crafted, but I'm not acting like myself. So, you're going to help me get back my usual self."
He didn't refrain from staring. "It's strange to have a girl act so brazenly. I like it." His eyes took in every inch of her hungrily.
A tingle quivered between her thighs.
She ambled toward him and crawled over his body. He smelled of spices, and his skin was rough beneath her fingertips. She'd had other men before. It wasn't common for water witches to keep their chastity, because being open with their sexuality wasn't frowned upon. But Diovan felt different. He wasn't like other men. Not the men in her tribe, at least. He was forthcoming, charming, and not to mention solid to the touch, and far from the bony stereotype of males-in-waiting.
She tried not to take note of his tousled hair, and his blue eyes, which made her heart race too quickly. Oh, fuck the goddess—she had to stare.
"Seusetinere nada," she said, waving the magic from her beads to his crotch.
"What was that?" he asked, breathing in deeply and running a palm down her back.
She stifled a moan. "A spell to keep me from having a child."
"You don't have to worry about that—we're not mates yet, and dragons can't impregnate random women." He cocked a brow. "Why does my manhood tingle?"
"It'll go away in a bit."
He paused, frowned, then said seriously, "Does that mean my cock is magical now?"
She unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh. She'd never thought of it that way. "I suppose."
"You have a beautiful laugh, you know? You should do that more often."
"Shut up, dragon," she said, hoping her blush didn't show too obviously.
Steadily, she started to move her hips. She could feel his length already hard beneath her. It prodded at her thighs, then her folds. "I want you to play with my breasts," she said, used to commanding her male counterpart in bed.
He smirked. "I don't take orders when fucking. Although it's nice to know what you want."
He stared up at her, not breaking eye contact. It was almost as if he were challenging her. He didn't do as she asked. His lips were so close that she could kiss him, but she shouldn't. Kissing would make the experience too intimate. She didn't kiss her other partners. Why would she do so with Diovan?
But… his breath was so delectably warm and inviting.
Without warning, he jerked her head down and captured her lips with his. The sudden motion made her fight back, but only for a fraction of a second. Then she tasted the sweetness of his tongue and his masculine scent. The forcefulness of his advance sent her heart racing. Males-in-waiting never dared do anything as such. The tension it created made her heart pound in her chest. The excitement, no, Diovan, was intoxicating.
As soon as he caught her lips, she wanted more of him. She pressed her body up against his, feeling his hot skin against hers. As their tongues danced, Diovan reached out to cup her mounds. His temperature rose, until his body was almost too painful to touch.
"I want you," she said, almost breathless as they parted from their kiss.
His response was another smirk. He portrayed calm
ness, but his eyes flashed dragon yellow. He flipped her over, and in the blink of an eye, her belly lay flat on the straw mat of her tent. Golden wings spread from him, capturing the sheen of the light spell she had up.
The sensation of having control taken away felt foreign to her. She was almost always on top, riding the man. If otherwise, it was only because she wished so.
And she liked being subdued.
She always knew she would. She secretly wished for it, even though the other water witches frowned upon such thoughts. Having her desires come true created an odd combination of euphoria and anxiety.
"I forgot to ask," Diovan said, his tone low, "what's your name?"
"Aryana," she replied.
Then he parted her folds and entered her. He entered easily because of how wet she already was. A tight sensation balled up in her lower abdomen. She cried out with pleasure and closed her hands into fists. Diovan hooked his fingers around her waist. She arched her back, pressing her elbows deeper into the cool ground.
She heard Diovan groan in pleasure behind her. "Fuck, you're so tight. Does it hurt?" He hadn't moved yet.
"Why would it?"
"You're not a virgin?"
She wanted to scream at him to continue and stop asking useless questions. "No."
He made a noise of disapproval. "I was hoping that I'd be your first and last."
He slid out, then in, slowly, before he picked up his pace. It was almost as if he fit perfectly. Every stroke hit her in the right parts. They forced soft cries out of her. This was the first time she'd had to stop herself from moaning and writhing from the overwhelming pleasure. She eventually lost self-control and let herself loose.
But this was wrong. Doubt lodged in her chest. She shouldn't be enjoying this. This went against the teachings she'd grown up with, her culture, and everything the witches stood against.
His touch was warm on hers as he continued to do as he pleased with her. Filthy pleasure rocked her. She shot an elbow up, and it slammed into his waist.
He jerked backward. "What the—"
She didn't seem to have hurt him much, but he was startled enough that she could push him onto the mat and sit on him. His wings splayed out behind him, pressed flat on the ground, its colors mixing with his blond hair.
He was too pretty a sight—just looking at him was sinful.
She enjoyed being subdued, but a part of her was still a water witch. She couldn't let Diovan have all fun of being in control.
"I should have bound your hands," he said, still smiling.
"Maybe, but then I wouldn't be able to do this." She pushed herself over him, satisfied to have him fill her again. His cock went in deeper, now that the weight of her body pressed her down. With a quick motion, she slid his member out and pulled herself back down again. Diovan wouldn't tear his eyes off hers. He looked hungry enough to be salivating.
"Like what you see?" she asked in a husky tone.
"It's acceptable," he said, licking his lips. His eyes glowed an amber yellow, betraying his words.
Diovan had to catch himself from saying, "I love you," amidst their fucking. It was certain—Aryana, this perfect woman, the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, was his mate. The attraction from the beginning was unmistakable, but he didn't want to believe it.
His days of promiscuity were over, and he hated his dragon for that.
He lived life for the chase of women. The giddiness of having them succumb to his whims fueled his days with play and conquest. He still didn't want to believe that his bouts of frolicking were over.
Aryana was the only woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The only woman he'd ever want to be with. And he didn't know if he could be satisfied with that. He almost toppled over the edge the minute he entered her. Only a moment of hard breathing let him contain himself. Things like that hadn't happened to him since his first sexual encounter, almost two centuries ago.
Being with her felt so good that it sent fear through him.
She continued to grind her hips against his. He guided her by gripping her waist. The position made it easy for him to study her body. Her long black locks fell messily around her perky breasts, framing them. Her waist was toned, slim, with just the right amount of fat to grip at the right places. And her ass… fuck… whenever it bounced against his thighs, his mind went wild, and his inner dragon growled in delight. He wanted to run his tongue and hands over every inch of her and make her feel like the woman she was.
He could get used to this position. Not many women were keen on being so aggressive. They preferred it missionary style, as much as it bored him. He appreciated Aryana being able to change things up.
But did he truly want another eight centuries of that?
He watched as her expression turned into one of pure ecstasy. Unable to control himself, he sat up and kissed the nape of her neck. He trailed a tongue from her chin to her collarbone, then up again, hoping it gave her the tingling, pleasurable sensation he intended. It seemed to work. Her pussy clenched over him, becoming tighter. He didn't even think that was possible. He shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, willing himself not to let go. He wasn't going to last much longer.
Aryana circled an arm over his back. She pulled him in close. He was surprised at how much strength this woman had. She was lean, verging on the point of being too largely built, but he didn't even mind that. He found it sexy. She kissed him. He accepted her eagerly. She smelled like the jungle and swamps—wild. The scent of her made him giddy with lust.
"Diovan," she said, "I can't. I can't hold it in much longer." Her breathy voice made him even more aroused. He was shocked to hear the subservient tone from her lips. He didn't realize this woman had that side to her. His dragon purred at the quivering of her voice.
"No one can when they're with me," he said.
"And you've been… with many women?" Her voice hitched at the end of the sentence.
She shook and let out a soft cry. Her face contorted with pleasure. Every part of her was beautiful. His release came after hers. Right then, he knew he wanted her to be the mother of his child. An odd picture of him, her, and a son appeared in his mind, and it was chilling.
"Oh, goddess," she said, slumping over him.
He inhaled sharply. The sensations coursing through him blurred his vision. As soon as they finished, he wanted more. He needed to experience more of her. He hadn't fully explored her body yet. He wanted to claim every inch of her skin. Aryana—he liked that name. It was perfect for her. Aryana belonged to him.
"You're my mate," he said.
She hadn't collected her senses. Her eyes were hooded when she glanced at him. "I'm your mate…" He liked the way the word rolled off her tongue. He doubted she understood the meaning of what she was saying. "You're mine." He kissed her. He didn't force his way in her mouth, taking his time to feel the tender softness of the flesh of her lips. It was soft… delectable…
She snapped out of her daze. "I belong to no one. I can sleep with whomever, whenever I want. You don't own me."
He'd make sure to change that. The image of Aryana in another man's arms sent his blood into a boil.
"We belong to each other, Aryana. Can't you feel it?"
She tensed.
"Your body is calling out to me."
"It is not."
"You're in denial."
She avoided his gaze and directed her attention to the ground. "I'm not. This was a one-time thing, merely to get over my curiosity. It is sated. You may leave now and let me live my life in peace." Her words faded as she said the last sentence. He knew she was lying. Especially after the first mating, lust usually took over. Less so for the dragon wives, but they'd feel it nevertheless. Her soul would call out to him, and her need for him would drive through.
He needed her, more than any other woman. If he had his way, he'd take her over and over again, until the bond was properly fostered and his mark branded her shoulder. The mark would announce to the rest of t
he world that she was taken. That she was his. But forcing himself on her was no way to please a woman. At most, it'd make her distrust of him grow, and send the rest of the water witches after his neck at her command.
"You don't feel it?" he asked. "Your body is probably screaming out for me now, Aryana." He slipped his hand down her belly and inched it toward her thighs. He found her center still soaking wet.
She thrust her hips up. He was certain they'd frolic in another session of amazing sex, but then she caught his hand. "I'm done with you," she said. "Leave this tent before I change my mind about not taking you captive."
He wore his best puppy-dog gaze. It always worked. "You don't actually mean that, do you?"
She was midway through chanting an ice spell when he pulled himself back. Guess it didn't work. Her rejection was enough to make his erection sag, but the sight of her naked sent his thoughts spiraling out of control again. She stopped summoning the ice when he leapt out to a standing position and slipped on his pants.
"Won't you miss me?" he asked, almost sounding like he was whining.
"Yes, like the way I miss an empty stomach."
"Didn't know you enjoy being hungry that much."
She pushed herself from the ground and walked him to the exit, still in her nude glory. Her confidence surprised him quite pleasantly. He had another two seconds of taking in her beautiful form before being kicked out of her tent.
He shot her an amused glance. "When you're tossing and turning in bed, and wishing I were there to warm it, you're going to regret kicking me out."
"Don't come back."
"You sure about that?" he said, his eyes still fixated on her chest. She didn't seem to mind, so he continued with his rude staring. He'd take what he could get.
"I have no qualms about not seeing you again."
That almost hurt—it would've, if he didn't know she was lying. "That's cold," he said.
"I could show you what's colder," she replied, gesturing to her soul beads.
He lingered for as long as he could, not wanting to part with his half-bonded mate. He'd stay next to her for the rest of his life if he could. The thought was shocking and quite disconcerting. He had to live up to his reputation, the Dragon with the Magnificent Cock. If he didn't sleep around more, how would the girls verify his prowess?
Golden Embrace Page 3
