“Probably.”
“Just as she visited you at night to torment you with your parents’ death. Fortunately she did not succeed. But whatever we saw did not feel in the least like your evil dream. We were happy flying together beneath the stars.”
“So we were. But you have to admit that dreaming during the daytime is unusual.”
“More unusual than a man turning into a dragon?”
“Perhaps not.” He couldn’t bring himself to confess that she had bound herself to a lunatic.
“If you were sent a vision,” she said thoughtfully, “I mean, another vision, you will have to wait and see. Perhaps now that the malevolent influence of the wight’s necromancy has been lifted, the meaning of your visions will become clear.”
“Huh?”
“It is not just me who has changed,” she insisted. “Now that I have a soul, I am no longer beautiful. And you are much larger than you used to be. But I am not at all sure that we have completed our metamorphosis.”
He sniffed the curve of her jaw. She smelled like his mate, but she wasn’t pregnant. Yet. Perhaps his vision had shown him their happy future. “You are beautiful, Iliana. You don’t look the same. But you are still a lovely woman.”
“My hair is dull brown. And my eyes are funny looking.”
“Your hair is soft and shiny, and if you don’t like the color, any hairdresser will change it for you. But not on my account. I like it as it is. And I think your eyes are beautiful.” He tried to explain. “Before you were like some sort of unreal fantasy. Larger than life. Too voluptuous. Too, too everything.”
She sniffed unhappily, and he rushed on. “Now you feel real. And now that you have a heart, you have a truer beauty.” He stopped and gathered her closer. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not much good at whispering sweet nothings.”
“You really prefer me as I am?” she asked incredulously.
“Yup. I wish you liked your new face and body. But I promise you they grow on a fellow.” He was teasing her, but it was also true that before she had been as unreal as an airbrushed centerfold. Voluptuous and sensual, but essentially a gorgeous inflatable doll. He much preferred her with a soul.
“Am I as pretty as Angela?”
“Angela?”
She pinched him. “Angela who dresses horses,” she hissed. “The one you are in love with.”
“You’ve been listening at keyholes,” he said. “And you misunderstood.”
“I have not. I sat on your shoulder. And I understood you perfectly. You wished to marry this Angela. You are in love with her.” She pinched him again. “Answer me. Am I prettier?”
He held her hand. Kissed her fingers. “Don’t pinch me, sweetheart. Angela does not dress horses. She makes them do fancy maneuvers called dressage. It’s a sport.”
“Oh.” Her face expressed either disgust or doubt. Clearly, she was jealous as sin.
He hugged her. “You are my mate, Iliana. There is no more attractive woman than you anywhere,” he vowed. “And I do not love Angela. I never have, and now I never will. You have no need to be jealous.”
“Hmph.” She pouted. “What about you? Do you like being bigger?” she asked.
He kissed her pout away. “I do. I’ve always been the smallest of the family. Now it feels as if I have finally grown up.” It did. It felt great. Invigorating. Of course that might be due to Iliana.
“Perhaps your growth was stunted by the wight. And your visions too.”
“Or my fear of her.”
“It’s the same thing. You must not blame yourself because she persecuted you when you were a child. It was not your fault.”
Somehow it had always seemed as if it were due to some fatal flaw in his character. “Think so?”
“I know it. I have stood beside you when you addressed the great and terrible goddess Hel. When my tongue turned to ashes in my mouth, you spoke bravely, and won her respect.”
“It had to be done. And I didn’t feel any braver than when I went into battle against the countess.”
“My point exactly. Bravery means doing what makes you quail, because it must be done, whatever the cost.”
If she wished to believe he was brave, he didn’t plan to disillusion her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bradur
Myst~
She left Freya and Darius playing with their daughters and clambered up the rough path to the hot spring she had found. The sun was shining. She would be warm enough in her woolen dress and leather shoes until it started to set. It was peaceful there and she could think. Decide what she should do. What she could do.
The hot spring was too hot and sulfurous to paddle in. But if she kept to the rocks above it, she would be safe enough. It was beautiful on this island. She was infinitely weary of cold water and cold food. On Bradur she suffered neither. She liked being able to hear and see the ocean without being in it. She liked the forest and the mountains and the bright sky.
Freya was a good cook. Darius a kind host. Their babies were utterly delicious. It was too bad that Freya did not like her. Did not trust her. Myst could not help having been a nixie. And even before her soul had been returned to her, she would not have hurt Freya’s daughters. Or anyone, for that matter.
An enormous striped gray cat slunk out of the bushes beside her. She knew this fellow. Could not imagine a bigger or fluffier cat. Or a more handsome. He was preposterously large. His ruff made his head appear twice its size. She patted her lap. Sometimes she could lure him to sit on it. Today was one of those times. He was heavy. Even heavier than he looked. But as soon as she stroked him he began to purr.
“What am I to do, Cat?” she asked. Not that she expected him to answer her.
He purred like distant thunder and butted her palm with his broad head. She stroked him from nose to tail. He writhed contentedly, exposing his neck to her caresses. At least the cat liked her. “You’re a big, handsome fellow, aren’t you?”
The cat rumbled excitedly. He rolled over and waved all four legs in the air. But she knew better than to pat a cat’s stomach. His tail lashed from side to side, tickling her knees. But she wasn’t fooled. The second she touched his furry belly, he would scratch her. The size of his ballar was astonishing. But she had no intention of petting it either.
“Behave yourself,” she cooed. She scratched his chin in compensation. Still purring, he rolled over and presented his back.
“That’s better. What am I to do about Valdar?”
The cat made himself into a loaf and yawned widely, showing sharp and pointed teeth. He blinked his green eyes at her.
“I agree.” She laughed.
Freya’s brother Valdar had claimed her. She owed both him and Brand a great debt for releasing her from her imprisonment and returning her soul to her. But she did not wish to be Valdar’s bed slave. He frightened her with his loud voice and violent temper. But he had spoken first.
She greatly preferred the sunny Brand. He made her heart pound faster too. But for a different reason. But although Darius had said she might choose, that it was her right, the brothers did not agree with him. It was unfortunate that they looked the same yet were so different.
As she and Iliana had looked identical but been quite different. She missed her sister with an ache that would not go away. Would Valdar help her find Iliana? ‘Twould be a wearisome task. And a dangerous one, if Iliana was still in thrall to Rán. Myst doubted whether Valdar liked her enough to disturb himself on her behalf.
Brand made her ache with feelings she had never expected, but her feelings were not the measure of his. She did not really believe that he truly loved her. He just enjoyed taunting his brother. And even though she liked Brand better, she did not want to be his bed slave either. That was no way to get her heart’s desire.
Myst scratched the cat’s ears. “Would Valdar make me a good master?” she whispered. “Would he treat me well?”
The cat ran its claws into her legs. “Ouch.” She pushed at h
im, but he didn’t budge. He growled and butted her hand. “You don’t deserve petting,” she scolded. “You hurt me.”
The bushes rustled. Valdar appeared. From head to knee, he was dressed in shining mail. His ungirded biceps bulged beneath his shirt. And his breeches were stretched by his mighty thighs. Two yellow braids hung below his towering helmet onto his broad chest. He was as terrifying as any berserker she had ever encountered. The cat seemed to agree for it roused itself to hiss at Valdar.
“What are you doing with my woman?” Valdar thundered. A battle ax as tall as he was appeared in one huge hand. A massive shield hung from his other arm.
The cat leapt off her lap and turned into Brand. He too dressed himself in armor. A battle ax as large and heavy as Valdar’s swung from his huge right hand. His round shield was even larger. He squared up to Valdar. “She likes me best,” he bragged.
“Stop it. Stop it,” Myst cried desperately. “You neither one truly like me. Not the least, littlest bit. You wish only to drill my hill. You don’t care what I want.”
Brand turned his head. His face was bare under his helm, but his thick yellow hair hung to his shoulders. “What is it that you want?” he asked softly.
Wasn’t it obvious? “I want what your sister has,” she said tartly.
“A dragon?”
“A good, kind husband, and a warm house full of beautiful babies.”
“I will give you that,” promised Brand with a smile that made her breath catch in her throat.
“She’s mine. I claimed her first. I’ll split you open, thief,” declared Valdar. “And once Myst has a taste of my ballar, she won’t want any part of yours.” He made a crude gesture toward his crotch.
Brand growled deep in his throat. He swung his battle ax directly at Valdar’s belly. His twin parried the blow with his vast painted shield and followed it up with a downward swipe of his own ax. Myst flung herself desperately at Valdar, bumping his elbow upward.
His blow missed its mark and only the handle crashed into Brand’s helmeted head. Myst was flung backward into the bushes. The branches caught in her skirts and held her fast. She struggled to regain her feet.
For a while Brand remained upright. Then his eyes rolled upward. He pitched forward like a felled tree. Valdar tossed both ax and shield aside to catch his brother. A great cry like that of a wounded beast emerged from his throat.
It was as she had suspected all along. Valdar cared for his twin far more than he did for Myst. “He’s dead,” she accused. Her eyes filled with tears. “You killed him.”
Valdar’s eyes narrowed. “You know nothing, you ignorant nixie.” He bounded lightly down the hillside cradling his twin against his massive chest as if he weighed no more than a child.
Feet dragging, Myst followed more slowly. Tears rolled down her cheeks as much for her own plight as for Brand’s death. Now she had no choice whatsoever. Valdar had slain his own brother to secure her. She would have to submit to his wishes, no matter what she herself desired.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jareth~
Lexi had not returned. Jareth wasn’t surprised. The sexual energy in the dining room had obviously embarrassed her. Now that Arvid was on his way back to Lind Island, Theo was in his study going over the reports that his sister had sent him. Christina* managed the Lindorm Fund. But she insisted that everyone in the family keep up. Reading dull reports was the price Lindorms paid for their financial success. Or as the Eldest put it, better bored than poor.
“Shall we go to your room?” he whispered.
“To make love?” she whispered back.
“To make love.”
“With intercourse?” Her face was pink.
“If we get there.” He nuzzled her neck. “We have all the time there is to get you pregnant. Let’s enjoy the process.”
“I liked the explosion and the floating,” she admitted.
“Good.” He kissed her harder than he had intended. “Let’s see if I can do it again.”
“What about Lexi? Won’t she wonder where we are?”
“Not if she’s as smart as I think she is.” He stood up and put his shoulder under her waist.
“Hey,” she yelped, grabbing his sweater. But she was laughing.
“Relax. I’m just carrying you off to ravish you. Nothing to get excited about.”
She giggled harder. Her happiness set off a chain of fireworks in his blood. He had not thought that sex was improved by laughter, but his excitement ramped up. Maybe it was because there was no mockery in her giggles, just joyful anticipation.
He patted her bottom and gave it a friendly squeeze. She kissed the back of his neck and licked the skin there. Every hair on his body stood up as erect as his cock. He increased his pace.
“Can you open the door?” he asked.
She contorted herself and turned the knob. He kicked the door shut and dumped her on the neatly made bed. She landed on her back, limbs sprawled, hair in a tangle, eyes gleaming. He caged her with his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.
“Shouldn’t we take our clothes off?” she asked after a long time. Her face and neck were flushed and mottled, and she was panting hard.
He answered her by running his hands under her tunic to the edge of her bra. He stroked the sides of her waist and the sweet softness of her belly, dipping a finger into her navel and giving it a little massage. She moaned.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“I do. Why does touching me there make me ache here?” She touched her nipples.
“I don’t know. Why does listening to you moan turn me on?”
She stilled, frowning. “Like a light bulb?” she asked.
“It’s an expression.” He placed her hand on his cock. “This is what you do to me.”
She squeezed him gently. “You Northmen are all the same. Your borers are always ready for drilling.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Is a borer what you call my cock?”
“It’s what the skalds call it in the sagas.” Her hands rubbed his length through his jeans. “All the heroes have great ones as long as spears, and they are always looking for a hill to drill.” She patted his zipper. “How does this open? I think I am ready for your borer.”
He could smell her arousal even though her clothes were still on. A scent that was uniquely her own. A blend of female musk both human and dragon, tinged with a hint of the sea. He knew that he could never forget it and that it would always smell like home to him.
“What’s the matter?” she asked anxiously. “Did I displease you?”
“What?” He kissed her and got his stilled hands busy again. “I was just thinking how great you smell.”
“I had a shower this morning,” she assured him.
He laughed. “Believe me, I am not this turned on by soap.”
“Stop talking and kiss me properly.”
He was glad to oblige. Her soft curves were now becoming familiar. He knew where she liked soft caresses and where a firmer touch worked better. Of course there were plenty of discoveries left. And they had a lifetime in which to make them.
She shrieked and tried to close her legs when he raised her pussy to his mouth. But he ignored her protests, judging that her increased arousal overrode her instinctive modesty. He hummed against her stiff clit and lapped around it with the flat of his tongue. Her legs relaxed.
Her juices were flowing. He lapped them up. She tasted of herself and something vital that eased his heart. Like the essence of happiness and femininity. Her knees returned to grip his ears. Her fingers to pull at his hair. This time because she was on the verge of climax.
He licked her clit one last time. Her convulsions spread through her pelvis. The plump and muscular buttocks in his hands spasmed rhythmically, over and over. He held her to his mouth, sipping at her pussy until the last of her aftershocks were over.
He set her bottom on the bed and covered her with his body. She was damp and flushed but her eyes opened, so soft they wer
e almost green. “I love you,” she whispered.
Even if it was just sex, it felt good to hear the words. “I love you, Iliana,” he assured her. “Are you ready to take my borer?”
She giggled. “Can a cock drill?” she asked impishly.
“We’ll see.” He pushed slowly into her passage, mindful that she was still going to be tight. She groaned and clutched his shoulders. Her satisfied aroma began to return to arousal. He kissed her deeply, relishing the softness of her half-open lips.
He thrust deeper. “Tell me if it is too much,” he whispered.
“You are so big, you fill me up,” she whispered back. “But it is not too much.”
“Good to know.” She made him feel like a king. And like a king he claimed his kingdom, pumping his hips. She met his charge with one of her own and they rocked together like one person instead of two.
Her orgasm exploded and triggered his own. His pleasure and hers were one and the same, rippling outward in ever expanding circles. He heard her cry of delight echoing his own bellow of release and claiming. He filled her with his seed. Her pussy gripped his tightly and released.
She relaxed so completely he thought she must be asleep. He rolled off her and tucked her against his damp body. If this was not love he was a monkey’s uncle. He had felt her on the mental plane. Felt her physical and emotional joy as if it was his own. He pulled her closer and rested his head on hers. His eyes closed.
Iliana was gazing sadly out over a stormy sea. The waves broke on a beach he did not recognize. Far below her rocky perch, a hot spring gushed high into the air. The rocks around the geyser were crusted with yellow and white crystals. Probably sulfur and calcium.
But his mate was not truly looking at the scenery. Her eyes were open but turned inward. They glittered with unshed tears. She was wearing a green dress and a white apron embroidered with black and red. Her brown hair was in two tight and unbecoming braids.
Gravel crunched. A man walked up the path and stood before her. Jareth recognized his cousin Darius. Darius patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Tears won’t help,” he said curtly.
Dragon Ensnared: A Viking Dragon Fairy Tale (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 7) Page 12
