Spark of Desire
The Dragon's Virgin Tribute, Volume 2
by Madelene Martin
Published by Madelene Martin, 2013.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SPARK OF DESIRE
First edition. July 7, 2013.
Copyright © 2013 Madelene Martin.
Written by Madelene Martin.
Table of Contents
An Excerpt From the Book
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
An Excerpt From the Book
Faith's face grew hot with embarrassment and shame, and she looked away to stare at the ground.
The dragon-man came closer, until he was standing over her. She cringed as he reached out and laid a hand on her head.
He stroked her hair once, and she just had time to wonder what he was doing, before he wound his fingers in the dark tresses. Then he bent lower, and pulled her hair with a painful yank, so that she was forced to get up onto her knees. His hand still entwined, he positioned her head so that she had to look at him.
She let out a pained whimper, the fear taking hold again. Her heart thudded in her chest as she stared into his handsome face. The dragon's eyes were still fixed intently on hers, his expression mild.
Her lips fell open and she was about to speak - to plead, or curse - when he spoke.
"Now, rebellious one." He purred. "You see that I can give you pleasure, but I am quite willing to cause you pain, if I have to. You are mine. The sooner you learn that, the better it will be for you."
He seemed to wait then, staring at her patiently. He expected a response.
Faith swallowed hard, and nodded. A final tear squeezed from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek, and she knew she could cry no more.
All hope had fled, leaving her feeling numb and empty. She just wished that having her acquiescence, he might leave her alone for a while.
A drastic change came over his face then. The glowing in his eyes faded, leaving them placid and dark. His brow smoothed, and his expression became almost tender. His hand loosened its hold on her hair, and suddenly he was caressing her again.
Then the dragon smiled, his full lips tilting up at the edges. The smile transformed his face. He was really incredibly handsome. No... handsome was not the right word. He was beautiful.
Though her heart still beat hard, something in her shifted then. A queer thrill that started in her belly and settled lower, in her sex. Faith had to look away, angry at herself.
"What is your name?" He asked her.
"Faith." She murmured.
He made a pleased sound; stroking her hair, lifting an end and inspecting it. "I am Inaeth. I will be your mate for life... if you please me."
"And... if I don't please you?" She dared, her voice little more than a whisper.
1.
Your great aunt was a heroine, you know. She is the one who put an end to the fiery terror of the dragons by reuniting the two species: us and them, in an alliance. She risked her life to approach the king, who thought she was dead, and deliver the dragon's demands.
You see... once, our kingdom forgot the ancient pact they had with dragon-kind and stopped sending their tributes. They sent dragon-slayers and hunters instead, and began to kill the mighty beasts. Soon, the peaceful dragons remembered how to be full of rage, and started burning villages, hunting livestock and people.
They killed us and we killed them, until the people lived in constant terror and only a single dragon remained. But one dragon was enough to cause much destruction.
Out of desperation, the king gave Lily - who was his fourth daughter - to the dragon, in hope of a few years of peace. You see, the people believed the dragon would devour the girl and be satisfied with his revenge.
Instead, Lily became Nalranith's mate, and together they began to replenish the dragon race.
Many years later Lily returned, riding on Nalranith's back and accompanied by a fearsome guard of her dragon sons.
Her father, who had once sent hunters after the dragons, had died knowing the destruction his choices had caused. Her oldest brother now reigned, and he was wise enough to bow to the dragons' demands, and re-forge the old alliance.
And that, Princess Faith, is why you are special.
Faith had heard it a hundred times. Her whole life had centered around that tale. Born the fourth daughter of the reigning king, she had been saddled with a destiny at the moment of her birth.
The princess had been treated with great honor and prestige. She had toys from the best toy-makers, dresses from the most exclusive seamstresses, ponies from the realm's best breeders as soon as she was big enough to ride them. She had been taught by the realm's most renowned tutors. In fact, Faith had had everything a young girl desires.
Huge feasts were thrown for her on each name-day, and on these occasions all the vassals of the realm would come and present her with gifts.
Each passing year was a cause for celebration, because each year brought Faith closer to her eighteenth name-day - when she would be sent off to her dragon mate, and the truce would be fulfilled for another hundred years.
Faith had also been kept carefully under guard every day of her life - and especially once she grew to an age when she began to talk and think about boys.
"You must remain pure." Her governess, her mother, and her ladies-in-waiting would say. "The kingdom depends on it."
Faith grew out of the awkwardness of childhood and into a dark-haired, curvaceous beauty. She was disallowed any contact with the opposite sex whatsoever, except for her guards, who wouldn't even talk to her, other than to give orders.
She understood that she was to remain a virgin - the fact was repeated to her often enough - but was unsure exactly what that meant, and what she would be expected to do with her future dragon mate.
The dragons were also men, she knew - but not quite like human men. The tales she read painted them as wild, fierce and ugly. Would she be expected to lie with some monstrous beast? No one knew - or if they did, they wouldn't tell her the details.
As she grew, so did her frustration, and her overall opinion that all of this was quite unfair. She tried to accept it all with grace, but the gifts, the feasts, the adoration from the people, began to rankle.
She was just a girl - unlucky enough to be the fourth of her father's daughters. Why did it have to be her? If the gods had rolled their dice otherwise, it could have been her older sister. Her younger sister might have volunteered - she who went endlessly on and on about how lucky Faith was, and how heroic her sacrifice would be.
It might be heroic indeed, Faith thought, had she any choice in it.
The answer to all her questions was always the same: Because this is the way it is done. This is the way it must be.
2.
Faith held her breath and tried to hold steady while her maid tugged firmly on the laces of her corset, trying to coax the stiff garment even tighter. Her arms were held awkwardly out to the sides, her gaze unfixed as she became lost in her own thoughts.
Finally she was fully dressed. Her white gown was the most adult clothing she had ever been allowed to wear, and under any other circumstance she might have been thrilled.
The tight bodice emphasized her waist and pushed her full breasts together in a pleasing manner, her cleavage revealed at the low neckline. A beautiful gossamer shawl was wrapped around her shoulders lending her warmth and modesty. Her feet were clad in white slippers, and a silver circlet was set in her dark ha
ir.
The maid finished fussing, bobbed a curtsey, and left. Faith looked in the mirror, and saw a stranger, beautiful in her bridal gown.
"It's time, my lady." One of her ladies-in-waiting said.
Putting a hand to her stomach in an attempt to quell her nerves, Faith nodded at the woman. "Will you give me a moment alone, please?"
The three ladies exchanged doubtful glances, but must have decided the gravity of the situation allowed their mistress extra leniency. They curtseyed and left the room.
Immediately, Faith went to her dresser. She urgently yanked open drawers until she found what she sought - a small blade in its sheath.
She had found it on the ground once while walking in the garden, and had kept it for some unknown purpose. It wasn't big enough to cause damage to a dragon - but it might help her in some way. Regardless, it was the only weapon she had. She slid it between her breasts and deep into her bodice where it pressed uncomfortably against her skin.
They led her out of the castle - through the great entry hall where it seemed like everyone was gathered around to see her off. Everyone curtseyed or knelt as she was ushered past.
Her guards' hands were firm on either arm. With a grimace of irritation Faith shook them off, determined to walk with dignity, but they stayed close - close enough to grab her if she tried anything.
She held her head high until they were out of the hall and the sunlight hit her face, making her squint.
Her parents were not there.
She didn't know the king well. He had never bothered getting to know his daughter, perhaps because of her eventual fate.
Her mother, the queen, had come to her bedroom last night and kissed her. Her face was red as though she'd been crying. but the woman was stoic. She had told her daughter how proud she was of her and how important she was for the kingdom; for the people. How she must be brave and well behaved and everything would work out alright.
She would never see either of them again.
In front of the cheering crowd of common folk, Faith stepped up into the waiting carriage. She stared out at myriad passing faces as the carriage began to move.
Perhaps the people expected her to smile and wave - but Faith didn't care. She was torn between the ever-present desire to please her mother, and her own paralyzing fear. The end result was a numb, mute compliance.
They traveled for a few hours, out into the countryside. The sky was beginning to color with the orange of dusk when the carriage pulled to a stop.
Faith abruptly woke out of the doze she'd fallen into, lifting her head from her arm. Now that the moment had come, fear gripped her. Her heart started pounding, and she raised a hand to her chest where the secret knife was hidden.
The guards' horses came to a stop. Soon two of the armored men opened the door. One offered his gloved hand to help her down.
Struck with terror, she shrank back from the door. "Please... no." She said helplessly, shaking her head.
"Your Highness, don't make me pull you out of there." The guard said. He was a man who's name she'd never been told, but he had always been pleasant enough to her. Now his face was twisted with regret - but also determined.
She was aware of a guard coming to the door behind her, blocking off the other possible exit. She began to tremble. The kind guard's hand was still stretched out, waiting, but still she couldn't force herself to obey.
With a sigh, the guard bent low and clambered over the seat, grabbing Faith by the wrist. She cried out as he pulled her toward him, unbalancing her until he could grip her other arm.
He was strong, and had no trouble wrestling her from the carriage. Faith growled and cursed indignantly, to no avail, as he set her on her feet. One strong arm remained around her waist to stop her from running.
She fumed silently - how dare he touch her like that? But sensing there was no hope of breaking away, she fell limp.
She looked up, taking in the surroundings. They were halfway up a hill, at the place where the track ended. Above them, she could see the tall pole that jutted from the top of the hill. A shiver ran down her spine. This was the place where her forebears had been chained.
The guards began to bind her hands tightly together with white silk cloth.
"Stop, please!" She blurted. "I'll come quietly. There's no need to tie me."
"Sorry, Highness," replied a guard, "it's tradition."
Faith sighed, and suddenly became aware of the stinging in her eyes; the tears welling up and threatening to fall. She gritted her teeth and set her jaw, determined not to let these men see her cry.
They bound her to the stake, her back against the pole. Her hands remained tied tightly together.
None of them said goodbye to her, perhaps sensing they would only receive vehemence in return. Faith kept her head held high and stubbornly blinked back tears.
As soon as they were gone, she began to struggle.
The white silk that bound her was too strong to tear but by writhing awkwardly she managed to inch it further down her chest, and struggling, she felt for the knife's sheath in her bodice.
Carefully, she squeezed it upwards, until the silver hilt appeared between her heaving breasts. Faith uttered a cry of triumph, then cringed and glanced up at the sky as though her sound might draw the dragon down on her. She took the sheath between her hands and brought it to her mouth where she snatched it in her teeth and managed to free the small knife.
Fingers trembling, her breath coming in short shaking bursts, Faith began to cut through the fabric that held her to the stake. Uncaring, she sawed through her dress and the bindings both, ragged strips of cloth drooping and pieces falling to the ground.
A far off sound made her jerk her head up, and she whimpered and bit her lip hard as she increased her efforts. Only a bird, she lied to herself.
It was almost dark when, sitting on the ground, she finally cut through the final ties - those that bound her feet together. Her hands were stiff and aching, and she almost dropped the blade several times. The sheath was gone somewhere in the grass and she had nowhere to put the knife, so she ran with it in her hand.
Somewhere above, she heard a screech and a thunderous roar.
3.
Later, she sat in the hollowed bole of a huge tree, holding the knife between her teeth and struggling to saw through the layers silk that bound her hands.
She'd fled to the forest - her panicked mind reasoning that a dragon wouldn't see her from the air if she sheltered among trees. The full moon was shining now, but her hiding place was dark enough that no one would see her if they passed.
There were twigs in her hair. She'd lost her shoes and her silver circlet, and her feet were muddy. Her torn clothing didn't offer much in the way of warmth. Sobbing in desperation and shivering with the cold, Faith felt utterly miserable.
When she dropped the knife yet again, she left it where it fell into the folds of her skirt, put her head on her knees and cried.
The roars from the sky had stopped some time ago, but somehow that didn't make her feel any better. Now she didn't know what to expect.
What had she done?
Where could she hope to go from here?
Everyone would know her – the instant someone found her they would return her to her father. And there was that other matter – the one she didn't want to think about. The dragons hadn't had their sacrifice.
A snapping twig made her jerk her head up, and she prayed to all the gods as she scrabbled for her knife and held it between her numb hands.
There was the unmistakeable sound of footsteps. Someone was approaching, heedless of the noise they created - snapping branches and disturbing leaves with a heavy, unhurried step.
A shadow crouched before her hiding place, looking straight in. A man. She could only make out wild pale hair haloed by moonlight, and dark eyes against pale skin. Somehow, he had known she was there.
The man reached out a hand, in an almost courtly manner. After a lifetime of habit Faith almos
t took it. Then she noticed the long black claws.
It was like something out of her nightmares. She screamed and slashed at the hand with her knife, but her meager blow glanced off scales. The man growled like a beast, and she saw his eyes narrow and begin to glow with a dark red light.
Whip-fast he grabbed her.
“No!” She cried.
The stranger ignored her pleas, and her useless little knife fell to the ground as she was hauled unceremoniously out of her hiding place.
The man pulled her close against him and restrained her struggling form with ease. She could feel the strength in his arms and the solid muscle of his body.
Faith felt the telltale burning of a blush reddening her cheeks as she realized the man wore no clothes. His bare chest was pressed against her and he clasped her hands in one of his. She could feel the heat of him – his skin was unnaturally hot, as though he had a fever.
He pressed his face against the top of her head and inhaled deeply. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing – getting her scent.
“How dare you!” Faith shouted indignantly. She pushed uselessly against him. His chest was unyielding under her hands and her struggles didn't seem to concern him at all.
“Why do you run?” He asked, as though she wasn't trying with all her might to scratch his eyes out or kick his shins. He spoke with an odd inflection, as though speaking a foreign language. His deep voice was edged with a rumbling growl.
“Unhand me!” She spat, horrified.
When he allowed her to pull back a little she saw his face. This then, was one of the dragons.
Fascinated, she stared at him. Up close there was no mistaking him for human. She could see in the moonlight his long wide nose, the dark pupil-less eyes with their shifting, changing red, and the horns that jutted out of his thick silver hair.
He snarled, showing sharp white teeth. "Silly girl." He said. "It is pointless to run. I found your trail so easily. You smell of fear."
Spark of Desire (The Dragon's Virgin Tribute) Page 1
