The Dragon Mate's Awakening (Dragongrove Book 3)

by Imogen Sera

  Caelian paused for a moment, his hot breath on her ear, his scent overwhelming her. “I’m very handsome,” he said after a minute, “I need you close so they don’t try to take advantage of me.”

  Maggie turned around to see him; he was grinning impishly at her. She let out a barely stifled giggle and swatted gently at his chest.

  He caught her hand and clasped it in his. “I don’t need them to see how fragile and easily defeated I am, Maggie.”

  She smiled, trying to ignore the clenching feeling in her chest. His hand engulfed hers easily. He hadn’t let it go yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

  “Are we actually safe here?” she asked seriously.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re always safe here.” He squeezed her to him briefly as he said it.

  They faced each other, Maggie wrapped in his arms, their faces inches apart and the warmth from the fire many yards away. Maggie shivered involuntarily and positioned her body closer to his warm one. As she moved her leg brushed against something, and when she realized what it was her eyes widened. It seemed he was just as aroused as she.

  She couldn’t do this. “I really need to sleep,” she said, and turned away from him quickly, his arms still around her. “Good night Caelian.”

  “Sleep well, Maggie,” he said, the playfulness gone from his voice. He lowered his lips to her ear. “I promise you’ll be safe,” he whispered.

  Maggie shivered again, then shut her eyes and spent a long time pretending to be asleep before she actually was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Morning came sooner than Maggie wished, having spent perhaps the most delightful night of her life in Caelian’s arms. He’d done nothing, had fallen asleep while she was pretending to be, but his warmth and breath and strength had all surrounded her, and she found herself purposely staying awake to memorize the feeling. When he awoke he greeted her pleasantly, smiling as he did, but he also released her from his arms. The sense of loss was palpable.

  Maggie wandered off a little way to relieve herself, and when she returned she saw that Caelian was engaged in conversation with Kincaid. An odd prickle of possessiveness came over her; she frowned at herself and shook it off.

  Kincaid was talking passionately as Maggie approached, not wanting to be in the way.

  “Those monsters down the road in Haverbrook take forced brides,” Kincaid spat.

  Maggie stiffened at the name of her town, while Caelian shot her an odd glance as she approached.

  “Usually quite a bit younger than you or me,” Kincaid continued, turning to Maggie and glancing at her from head to toe, “but you can’t be too careful. We just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  Maggie watched her with wide eyes. “That’s why you stopped us? I do appreciate it.” she said softly.

  “Younger?” asked Caelian, horror in his voice. “Child brides?”

  The woman nodded. “It’s some religious thing there. It’s a strange place, very cult-like. There’s some family there that owns all the land, they run everything. Everyone defers to them and they seem to think the height of luxury is marrying a fourteen year old.”

  Caelian looked disgusted, and Maggie tried hard to control her breathing.

  “Do you help them?” asked Caelian. “You were all ready to rescue Maggie.”

  The woman shrugged. “We do what we can. We can’t storm the town, obviously, what with the marriages being legal and all, but I’ve disposed of a few older men myself when the little girls with them ask for help.”

  Maggie shuddered.

  “Good,” Caelian said. “Good for you.”

  “The church is finally coming out against it, we’re hoping we can encourage them to take a more active approach in preventing it and rectifying what’s been done.”

  Maggie watched silently, glad when Caelian moved to her side, but feeling a weight on her chest. She wished they would end their discussion.

  She was glad when it was time to leave, a few minutes later, and this time when she walked she was careful to stay further from him.

  .....

  Maggie shifted in her bed, in some nameless inn, frustration overcoming her. She was way past denying her attraction to Caelian, now she just needed to figure out how the hell to deal with it. Lights from nearby homes shone through the window; she could make out his features where he slept on the floor. His breathing had slowed and evened nearly an hour before, but she was no closer to sleep than she had been when she’d collapsed into the bed.

  Travel was taking a lot out of her, but Maggie was desperate to return home as quickly as she could. She found herself stopping frequently, feigning interest in landmarks or inventing something she’d spotted on the horizon. She suspected that Caelian would insist they slow their pace if he knew how much she struggled, so she tried to not let it show. Her whole self ached. Exhaustion was a constant weight on her shoulders. But now, when she should be sleeping and recovering her strength for the next day, all she could do was rub her legs together and try not to focus on the throbbing between her thighs, try not to study Caelian’s huge, hard arms stretched up over his head as he slept.

  There had only been one room available, so he’d settled comfortably on the floor before she could protest. What she really wanted was for him to join her in bed, to cover her small body with his much larger one, to release her from the tension that he’d wound so tight inside of her that she was afraid she’d snap.

  He was asleep though, she realized, and easing her tension would allow her to get her much needed rest. She slowly, silently unlaced the top of her gown, letting it fall off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the chilly night air. Her nipples were already hard, and she swallowed a tiny gasp as she ran her fingertips over first one, then the other. She watched Caelian as she did, studying his big hands and long fingers as she ran her own over herself. His hands were hard and his grip was firm, she knew, from the previous night when he’d clasped her hands in his, comfortingly. She shut her eyes and pictured his fingers instead of hers as she gently tugged her nipples. She was surprised at how easy it was to imagine.

  She shifted in bed, pulling the hem of her gown up, watching him all the while. His breaths moved his chest evenly still, so she slid one slender finger through her folds with confidence. She stopped just short of her clit, not trusting herself to be silent. Instead she watched Caelian and admired his sleeping form while she swirled one finger around her entrance, then up near her clit, and back down again. He was a genuine work of art. His huge arms, his broad chest, his tall stature. Every part of him was big and hard and lovely to look at, and she knew she’d have been incredibly intimidated if he hadn’t been one of the friendliest people she’d ever met. His perfect face was relaxed in sleep, but she hardly recognized it without his easy, wide smile and mischievous eyes.

  Her finger slipped and nudged against her clit, and she couldn’t stop the tiny moan that escaped her while she shut her eyes. She heard something then, a sharp breath, and her eyes flew open again, terrified. Caelian was just as he’d been a moment ago, though, his chest rising evenly and his eyes closed. She watched him for a long moment, her hand hovering over herself, completely frozen. She was torn between fear of being caught and her wild need, and eventually her need won. She returned to stroking herself, this time letting her finger swirl around her clit. She was wet, so wet, and her finger on her other hand slipped inside her easily as she built toward her release.

  She watched the big man on the floor all the while. God, she wanted his finger instead of hers. Hers was small and inadequate, and she could couldn’t help but imagine the ardor and enthusiasm with which he’d approach the task. Suddenly she wasn’t imagining his fingers stroking her but his tongue, and as she thrust her finger inside herself more quickly she added another, trying to ignore the quiet wet sound she was making. She circled right on her clit, strumming it while she fucked herself with her fingers, and when she was nearly there she realized that although Caelian’s ey
es were closed, his breathing was no longer slow and even. She was too far gone, though, and she continued to ride her own hand and rub her clit and a minute later she found her release on a long shudder and a moan that she couldn’t hold back.

  She clutched the blanket up to her neck, hiding her breasts, immediately embarrassed by what she’d done. Caelian hadn’t moved an inch, all that had changed was his breathing, so perhaps he was still fast asleep. As she stared at him, though, she noticed his blanket tented over his waist, evidence of his own arousal. She pulled her blanket up over her head, her cheeks burning, but even as she was consumed with shame she felt a sudden hopefulness that he would climb up next to her, pull her to him and fuck her hard. She rejected that thought immediately. She couldn’t say yes, and God knew that she wouldn’t say no.

  She buried her head in her pillow miserably, and remained that way all night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The day started awkwardly. Caelian hoped that Maggie hadn’t realized that he was aware of all she’d done the night before, but even if she thought she was undiscovered, he knew he’d have an impossible time of ignoring his hunger for her.

  She had already prepared herself for their final day of travel when he awoke, and she dismissed herself without making eye contact to take breakfast in the tavern.

  She seemed to be in better spirits when he approached her while she ate alone.

  “Home today?” she asked, smiling at him from her seat at the bar.

  He nodded, unable to bring joy to his face. While the thought of being separated from her nearly broke his heart, it was the pleasure she expressed at returning home that did him in. He knew it was selfish, knew it was ridiculous; Maggie knew nothing of what he was, nothing of mates, and there was no reason in the world why she would have a similar attachment to him as he did to her.

  He would tell her today the truth today. Obviously he didn’t expect her to follow him to Arnes, especially as he was leaving on a campaign of conquest. In fact, he’d argued with Helias for some time about the stupidity of bringing his own mate, Ingrid, along. It had been no use, but Caelian wasn’t eager to expose Maggie to the danger. No, she wouldn’t come with him, but they could write, and when things were secure in his homeland she would come to him. Or he would return to her. It didn’t matter much to him, as long as they were together somewhere.

  “I don’t want to frighten you,” he began, later, as they walked along the road, Maggie’s eyes bright and wild hair blowing behind her, “but there’s something I’d like to tell you about.”

  Maggie turned to him, her cheeks reddening and her hand covering her mouth. He realized then that she thought he was bringing up the previous night, and as she said, “Oh my God, I—”, he interrupted, quickly, desperately.

  “I’m not human.”

  Maggie’s hand fell and her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not human,” he repeated. “I’m a shifter— a dragon shifter. A dragon prince.”

  Maggie watched him silently with confusion on her face.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked, hesitantly.

  “I did,” she said, and paused for a minute. “That sort of declaration feels like it requires a few more details.”

  He laughed then, and her face relaxed slightly. She’d asked for details so he provided them as they walked, and he told her about his long life up until he’d met her. He told her of growing up in the palace, and of his bothers and sisters. He told her about the strange illness that had swept through their kind, killing every last female dragon. He told her about the quest his father had set him and his brothers on, and how after eight long years he’d finally reunited with three of them at Dragongrove. He told her about Augustus and his human mate, Annie; and about Helias and his mate, Ingrid. He told her how no one had suspected that finding mates was possible, how everyone had assumed the illness was the end of their kind. He talked until the sun was beginning it’s descent in the sky, until they were a short distance from the small town that she called home.

  “You know,” he said, smiling as he told her about his still-unnamed nephew, “I’ve told this all to you over and over while you were sick.”

  She stopped and looked at him strangely. “Why did you tell me these things? Why am I anything to you?”

  He took a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “It’s you, Maggie. You’re my mate.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed her mouth before her face fell and she shook her head. “No,” she said, her brow furrowed. “It’s not me. You’re mistaken.”

  “It is you,” he breathed, and he brushed his fingers across her cheek, pushing an errant curl from in front of her eye. “It’s you.” And then, before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he cupped her lovely face in his hands and bent to kiss her.

  His lips brushed against hers softly at first, hesitantly, asking for permission. She kissed him back, hard, pressing her mouth insistently against his. Her arms came up around him, her soft hands pulling on the back of his neck. She melted into him, pressing her small body against his, running her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he thought that nothing had ever felt so right.

  He groaned softly, and then her arms flew from him and she leapt back several feet, breathing heavily, eyes wide and terrified.

  “It’s not me,” she said, her chin trembling as she visibly tried to collect herself. “It’s not me.”

  “You’re mine, Maggie,” he breathed, and the intense look on his normally open face made her uncomfortable. “I’m yours. You know you feel it as well as I do. What could possibly keep us apart?”

  He looked down at her, watching her steadily, watching the blood leave her face and the way her expression switched from horrified, to pleased, to forlorn.

  She took a deep breath as she looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

  “My husband,” she said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Maggie walked across the road from Caelian. She was frightened of herself, frightened of him, frightened of what she might do. She wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and beg him to carry her off, carry her away from her hellish life. She glanced at him frequently, and he watched her with sorrow and a steady affection. She knew he would take her anywhere if she asked him to, but she also knew she couldn’t.

  As they approached Haverbrook her legs grew heavier. Each step brought her closer to home and further from this extraordinary man, a man who’d shown her more care and affection than she’d ever known from any male. She didn’t see how she could let him go, but she didn’t see how she could possibly do otherwise.

  She stopped at a shop on the outskirts of town, asking Caelian to wait outside. She couldn’t risk being seen too near to him; Bradley had eyes all over Haverbrook. She selected a comb, several hair pins and a bonnet. Her husband detested her unruly hair and freckles, and if she didn’t at least look like she’d made an effort then he would be displeased with her. As the shopkeeper disappeared to collect her selections, the floor creaking behind him, she looked outside the open door. There was Caelian, tall and imposing and gorgeous. Maggie couldn’t imagine him ever taking issue with how she looked. She couldn’t imagine him ever saying a good portion of what her husband liked to say, though, and as her heart gave a painful lurch she pushed the thought from her mind. She had no choice but to stay, and she needed to stop considering Caelian as an option.

  She exited the shop with her purchases and set her things down on a small ledge outside, Caelian’s eyes on her all the while. With practiced movements she combed her hair quickly, taming it as best as she could while pinning it to her head, and then tied her bonnet under her chin to hide it altogether. Caelian watched her oddly.

  “That looks pretty,” he said quietly, “but I like it down.”

  Her eyes welled suddenly. “I knew you would say that,” she said, her chin trembling. “Please don’t.”

  They continued through town at a snail’s pace, Caelian respecting her want
for space between them, each aware that only minutes lasted until they would be separated. Maggie’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as she raced toward the inevitable.

  “You miss him, I suppose,” said Caelian suddenly, breaking the silence. “That’s why you’re so desperate to get home as quickly as you can.”

  She turned to look at him. He was miserable and she was responsible. “I’ve enjoyed my time away,” she said carefully, before turning away from him.

  He followed at a distance, quietly.

  Before long they approached her home, a stately towering residence with vines covering the front. The front garden was manicured, the paint was fresh, the many windows gleaming. It was massive and quite disproportionate to the homes on either side. It was the largest home in town, befitting the only son of the wealthiest family in town.