“Yes, I suppose you only want a dragon lord. It would be too far beneath the greatest witch of all time to be with a lowly man.”
“That’s just it. I am no longer the greatest witch of all time. I’m as useless as you are right now.”
“So you say.”
“What! You think I really have my powers and am hiding them?”
“Maybe.”
“I can tell you something, buddy.” She jabbed him with her finger. “If I did have my powers, I would be turning you into a frog so you could hop away out of my sight. Because if you didn’t, you might just be about to disappear in a puff of smoke.” Her breasts rose and fell as she shouted at him.
“Thank you, Tara. I had to be sure.” He took hold of her finger and removed it from his chest; she hated the shockwaves of desire that flooded her veins at just this simplest of touches. She also hated the way he had made her all angry and defensive, all to prove she wasn’t trying to trick him.
“I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” she said, her hurt obvious in her tone.
“I’m beginning to,” he said and then walked off towards where the sun was beginning to descend in the sky. It wasn’t exactly an apology; Tara knew she would never get one of those from Dòmhnall. She chose to accept it as one all the same.
Chapter Six – Dòmhnall
Powerless. Worse, as he walked through the forest with Tara, he realised that without the ability to turn into a dragon, he was normal. Normal. What did that even mean? Boring, that was what it meant, boring and vulnerable. Could he protect them both if he had to?
“What’s on your mind, Dòmhnall?” Tara’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because you’re looking around as if the bogeyman was about to jump out at any minute.”
“Bogeyman?” he asked, not sure what she meant.
“You know, the unseen thing in your closet, or hiding under your bed at night.” She shook her head. “You didn’t have the bogeyman when you were a kid?”
“My childhood was so long ago, I don’t remember it. But there was definitely no mention of this bogeyman.”
“So how old are you?” she asked.
He thought for a moment. “I have no idea. Not in years. It didn’t seem to matter, so I never counted.”
“Ballpark will do?” she asked, looking into the distance and frowning. “Have you noticed there are no features in this forest? No landmarks.”
She was right; they had navigated their way through the trees, sometimes struggling to keep heading in the right direction when the trees grew too thick to pass between. It had taken them a long time; to go what he expected was a short distance. “I have seen nothing but trees since we started walking.” He looked up into the sky. “And by my reckoning, that was around two hours ago.”
“We need to think about finding water, and then possibly shelter for the night.” She stopped, turning to look at him. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Apart from the dryads wanted us both here for a reason.”
“Wait. How did they trick you? Into touching the dragon. Or did they use something else? I mean, you had seen what happened to me.”
He kept walking, not knowing what to say. It sounded ridiculous in his head. How could he tell her he came in case she needed him? In case she needed a dragon to rescue her, when there was no dragon left in him.
“Ballpark. What is that, a modern term?” he asked, changing the subject.
“You aren’t going to tell me. OK, keep your secrets.” She didn’t press him for a reason, but it must be obvious to her why he was here. Instead she said, “Ballpark is like a rough idea, so give or take a century or two.”
“I don’t know. Millennia.” He hated talking about how old he was and the amount of time that had passed, the things he had seen. Especially when it might be all about to come to an end. “Do you think without my power … without my ability to become a dragon, that I will begin to age as a mortal?”
She caught up with him and fell into step, or at least tried to; she had to do one and a half steps to his one stride. “I don’t think so. But I can’t be sure. I think that you are still a dragon, and I am still a witch. I know we can’t access that part of ourselves, but we haven’t changed that much, have we?”
Dòmhnall looked down at her: had he changed? Yes, he had, as soon as he touched the small statue of the dragon, no, even before that, he had changed. All of a sudden, he had realised how much this annoying human meant to him. And for that reason he had decided to follow her to wherever she had been sent. He would go to the ends of the Earth for her, or the end of whatever place this was.
But the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do was tell her this fact. He could not find the strength.
Chapter Seven – Tara
His appearance here in the forest puzzled her. He could have walked, or flown, away. Turned dragon and then made a run for it. Instead, he had come here after her. Could she let herself believe it was because he genuinely cared for her?
No. Don’t go there. Not when so much was at stake. For all they knew, the forest could be swarming with danger when night fell. That might be the reason they had been sent here, so that they could both be killed in a place where their bodies would never be found. After all, you couldn’t very well go around pointing a finger at the dryads for the Dragon Lord’s disappearance, when there is no proof. It could just as well be argued that Tara, as his true mate, had become so fed up of waiting for him to make her a gift of his heart stone that she took it and killed him in the process. Then she disappeared into the night and was never heard of again.
“Will they look for you?” she asked.
“Who? The other dragons?” He seemed uncertain.
“Yes. They knew where you were going, so surely when you don’t return tonight, they will go looking for you.” Although she knew that instead of looking for their dragon lord, they might choose a new one instead. One easier to deal with, perhaps Marcas. No, surely they would be loyal to Dòmhnall; they had all sworn a blood oath to him. They would find the dryads and force their lord’s whereabouts from the tree spirits.
“They knew I was going to see the dryads, and where. But the dryads move, never in one place. Never anywhere unless they want to be found.” Dòmhnall shook his head. “I doubt they could find us, even if they wanted to.”
“So we need to come up with a plan to survive the night.” Her mouth was so dry now; she was beginning to become obsessed by the thought of a nice, cool drink of water. “Water is our first priority. I know we shouldn’t stray from the course we are on, but we need water. If we don’t drink we won’t be able to walk.”
“Damn, I hate not being able to fly. If I had wings, I could soar up above the trees and spot a river or stream in no time.”
“If I had my magic, you wouldn’t have to. I could draw it from the ground. There is water all around if you know how to name it.”
“But neither of us have these powers. So we will have to find the way normal people do.”
“Which is?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
“We are useless, aren’t we?” She looked around, but there was nothing but trees, so close together that they could only see around twenty feet on either side of them. After that, it was a maze of tree trunks. “I don’t know.”
Feeling defeated, while the thought of water gradually becoming all-consuming, they walked for another hour. Only when she was about to tell him it was time they took a rest, did she look deep into the trees and see the cabin.
At first, it seemed like a mirage in the desert, only there because she wanted it to be there. “Do you see that?” she asked, unsure whether it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.
He looked to where she was pointing. “It’s a cabin of some kind.”
She started heading towards it, but he put his hand on her arm and held her back. “You have no idea who or what is in th
ere. For all we know this is the reason we were brought here, and there is a powerful witch or wizard who has captured our power.”
“Then I am going to go and get it back,” she said, shrugging him off her and walking straight for the cabin nestled in the trees.
“Tara. Think this through.” He took hold of her again, this time more forcefully.
“Think what through? Either we can keep walking, or we can go and see if there is anyone over there. They might have some idea as to what is going on and they might have food and water they are willing to share.”
“If we are going, then I am going first.”
She looked up into his face and realised two things. That Dòmhnall was right, he should go first: if they were attacked, he would be their best chance of defending themselves. She also understood his ego needed a real boost. The human side of Dòmhnall needed to know he was capable of standing up for himself. And of protecting his mate.
She was going soft on him, worrying about the mental state of a dragon who had survived the changing face of humanity. But he wasn’t a dragon anymore.
“We go together,” she said, and when he made to object, she lifted her hand to stop him, saying, “I am not staying here alone.”
He puffed out his chest, his ego getting the desired boost at the thought of his scared mate who needed his protection. “Very well. But stay behind me.”
“My favourite place,” she joked.
“What? Why?” He frowned.
“Nothing, you wouldn’t understand.” Or maybe he would understand how she fixated on his muscle-bound body. He knew how appealing he was to women; it fed his arrogance. How many times she had walked behind him as he went across the courtyard in the Stronghold. His toned thighs, so strong, so supple; she loved to see his butt in those tight breeches he wore…
“This is no time to tease me,” he said haughtily.
Normally she would have replied that it was always time to tease him, but she became sombre, remembering their predicament and the possible danger it brought.
“Quietly,” he said and then set off through the undergrowth towards the small wooden cabin nestled in the trees.
She followed, putting her foot exactly where his had been in the hope she wouldn’t make a sound. Even a twig snapping seemed loud, as all around them the forest was quiet, as though it was holding its breath. Tara began to feel the hairs on her neck standing on end, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. This whole thing was seriously creeping her out. For a woman who had seen so many bad things and endured so much, fear was an unusual feeling.
Because you fear for Dòmhnall. That small incessant voice was right. If it was just her, and she had her powers, she would not be afraid. But the thought of losing him was more terrifying than anything that could happen to her. Her brain flicked back to the brief period when she arrived here without him, the sense of enormous loss that had nearly suffocated her. Some way she had to keep him safe, and get him to acknowledge the bond between them.
“I’m going to go to the front door. Why don’t you wait here?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Together.”
“What if I need to change…?” He paled as he remembered the thing he had always been able to do so naturally had gone from him. “Never mind.”
Tara reached out a comforting hand, and he visibly jumped at her touch. Was it so unusual? Yes. Tara never spread comfort and love; she was too shut off from that side of herself. She had learned long ago that it was a sign of weakness. To show compassion left you open to hurt. Her whole life up until her arrival at the Stronghold had been filled with people wanting her power, trying to control her, or control her gift of predicting the future. A gift she no longer had.
Normal. We are both normal. Those were her thoughts as she followed Dòmhnall towards the cabin.
Chapter Eight – Dòmhnall
His heart didn’t usually beat so fast when he was about to go into battle. So why did it thump so loudly in his ears now? It was an old abandoned cabin; it didn’t look as though it had been used for years. There was no sign of anybody in the immediate area, so he could let the tension in his arms go. With a conscious effort, he unballed his fists.
The first step onto the porch, which was around six feet wide and held only an old bench and some firewood, elicited a loud creak. If anyone was inside, they would know they were about to receive uninvited guests. It also told Dòmhnall that there was a good chance the cabin wasn’t safe, but as long as it was weather proof, they would have to make do. Tara was right, the light was beginning to fade and they had no idea what hunted in these woods at night.
He placed his hand on the old wooden door and pushed it open. It didn’t move at first, the hinges rusted from lack of use. That made him feel better. If it was well used and well oiled, they might be in danger; as it was, he was confident there was no one inside, and he opened the door wide and went inside.
A musty smell hit him. The cabin certainly was deserted, but the roof looked sound; at least it didn’t look as though it were about to fall down around them. He felt Tara at his back, trying to peer around him, so he took another step inside and allowed her entry.
“It looks safe enough,” he said, seeing the relief on her face.
“Great. Maybe there is water close by. You wouldn’t build a cabin too far from a water source, surely.”
“Once I’ve checked this place out thoroughly, I’ll go and see.” He then systematically went over every inch of the cabin.
“There’s a bed. Some matches, and some tins of some sort. Not sure what, or how old they are.” She picked a tin up and shook it, the label had come off and there was nothing to say it was edible.
“Leave them. We use only what’s safe, and it’s not exactly polite to help ourselves to someone else’s stuff.”
“Like anyone would care,” she said, but replaced it all the same. “I mean, look at this place. It hasn’t been used for decades.”
“Maybe we’ll find the skeleton of the previous inhabitants out there somewhere.”
“Why would you say that?” she said accusingly.
“Maybe the person who built this cabin was sent here in the same way. Tara, the dryads sent us here. If we have no way of getting out, we have to try to build a life here.”
“No!” She shook her head furiously. “I cannot believe that. We will find a way out.”
But her face told him she was beginning to come around to that exact way of thinking. The forest was so featureless. There was no sign of anything other than trees, no real animal trails, and no sounds other than a few birds tweeting in the distance.
“I’ll go and check for water,” he said and left her to shake the musty sheets on the bed. He didn’t want to watch her cry, and he didn’t need to hear the hoarseness of her voice. He simply wanted to provide food and water for her, in the hope that this small gift might make her feel better.
Back outside, he took in a large lungful of fresh air. It smelt no different from that of the air in Spellholm. Even the trees looked the same as those that surrounded the Stronghold, trees he had looked upon for centuries. Some he had watched grow from tiny saplings to mighty oaks, beech trees that showered you in beech mast when the summer breeze blew through their branches. How he missed his home.
“Sentimental fool,” he said to himself, heading out around the back of cabin.
More trees. That was what struck him as he walked around the perimeter of the cottage. But Tara was right; there must be water here somewhere. No one would build a cabin and then have to walk miles every day to fetch water.
He stood still, hands on hips, devising a plan. Then he began to walk the perimeter again, on each turn he took ten steps away from the cabin and went around again. His circles began to get ever bigger, and then, just as he thought it was a ridiculous thing for a dragon lord to be doing, he was rewarded by the faint sound of water trickling out of the ground.
Carefully, he began to explore the ground
until he found what he was looking for. A small spring bursting out of the earth, running for only around ten feet above ground and then disappeared into some rocks.
Kneeling, he took a handful of the clear, cool water and smelt it. Then he dipped his tongue in it; the water tasted perfect. Beyond perfect, to his parched mouth. So he risked a mouthful, swallowing it down and sitting back on his haunches to see if his body went into a sudden, deathly convulsion. Because for all he knew, it might be poisoned. There was nothing about this place he wanted to take for granted.
He felt fine, only his mouth, his whole body, cried out for more. Bending down once more, he drank his fill. Only then did he get up and walk back towards the cabin, making sure he could remember exactly where the source of the spring was.
“Tara,” he called softly. “Tara. I’ve found water.”
She emerged from the cabin, her face flushed. “Where?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He held out his hand and she took it. As he closed his fingers over hers, he had never felt so right. So at peace. A simple thing as discovering water and sharing it with this woman had made him feel good. There was no internal conflict raging inside him as to whether he could trust her, whether she was good enough for this dragon lord.
They were simply two people who were made for each other, if the fates were right, celebrating a small victory over whoever their foe was.
Chapter Nine – Tara
“I think I can hear my stomach sloshing,” she said as they walked back to the cabin.
“It is, I can hear it from here,” Dòmhnall said, grinning at her. This was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. If they were not in quite such dire trouble, she might actually think he was enjoying himself. Like a vacation from dragon duties, or something.
Mate of the Dragon: BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance (Her Dragon's Bane Series Book 6) Page 3
