Paradox I

by Rosemary Laurey

  “Come.” Arragh’s hand closed over hers, and he drew her close. “Remember your promise, Myfanwy. To obey.”

  “I gave my word.”

  “Yes.” A trace of a smile curled a corner of his mouth. “You did,” he paused, his hand on her shoulder. “Will you also give me a kiss from your lips?” Her throat clenched at his question. Why would he ask this? “I mean you no harm, Myfanwy.” Could she believe him? Trust him? He asked for what he could have taken with ease, whether she wished or not. He asked for no more than she’d given her cousin Arden at the last winter revels.

  Her mouth was too dry to speak so she looked Arragh in the eye and nodded.

  He breathed warmth on her face as his mouth closed over hers. His lips were cold and soft and heated and hard all at once. She gasped at his touch and at once felt his tongue—long, narrow and strong. Certainly, confidently, he circled her mouth, caressing the inside of her cheeks, gliding over her tongue and pulsing gently against her teeth. It felt strange and wonderful and frightening and she dreaded him stopping.

  A strange fluidity seeped through her limbs, her legs weakened, her body went heavy, and she leaned against the dragon, molding herself into his hard frame, wrapping her arms around his broad back. His skin was cool and firm and warmed as she pressed against him. His strong arms held her close, his hands wide and smooth on her skin, his fingers playing a tattoo on her bare back, in a gentle mark of possession, a sweet sensation of pleasure. She sighed into his kiss. Lost in the wild feelings charging through her body, Myfanwy half-heard Arragh groan against her mouth as he drew away, still holding her close, his breath coming fast and his heart racing under his firm chest. She ran her hands over his skin as if to learn more of this creature who held and embraced her.

  “Sweet one,” he said. His lips were wide and swollen, just as hers felt. She smiled up at him and watched his eyes flicker blue. “You would have us both killed as we stand here. Come.” He took her hand in his and strode across the glade. “Be ready to run for your life when I give the word.”

  How could he talk so after an embrace like that? Confused, Myfanwy kept pace with his long strides, ignorant of what lay ahead, but knowing she needed his touch again. A strong hand in hers was not enough and never would be again.

  “Arragh—?” she began, but he shook his head, raising a broad finger to his mouth.

  “They may be near. No need to let them know where we are…yet.”

  She could not credit her brothers and their companions waited to do them harm but Arragh believed it. Just as her brothers were convinced Arragh was a monster. Surely no monster acted with such gentleness or offered such wild joy from his touch. If she could but tell her father and persuade Arragh…

  “View, halloo!” The cry rose as she and Arragh ventured from the cover of the trees. Others took up the echo like a hunting party in full cry. Hounds bayed and Myfanwy glanced over her shoulder to see a racing mob approaching with her brothers at the head. “We have them!”

  “Run!” Arragh commanded. Myfanwy’s legs flew like a wild yearling’s. Pumping her muscles, she raced beside the dragon, the cries of attack behind them and the clear wind in her face.

  A cry came from behind. “The flame, loose the flame!”

  “Faster!” Arragh urged, snaking his arm around her waist, forcing her to run at his pace.

  Her lungs hurt, the blood pounded in her ears, her throat dry with effort. A tongue of flame roared at them. Arragh, ever alert, pulled Myfanwy to the left but she screamed with pain and stumbled. She’d have fallen but the dragon held her fast. Louder shouts came, one demanding more flame and stronger. Myfanwy wanted to call out to her brother and the villagers that there was no need for force, no cause to fear Arragh, but pain raced through her leg and it took all her will not to falter.

  How she ran on she never knew, Arragh’s strength became hers. His arm held her to him and his legs ran for her. “Stay with me!” he gasped in her ear and with a bound that left her stomach behind, he lifted her off the ground. In a leap, they were eye level with the treetops. There was a sound like a branch breaking from an elm and they were aloft, scattering the birds in their path.

  They were flying over the last trees in the glade, beyond the reach of the flames. An arrow, then three, sped past them but soon they were higher than any archer could reach, heading for the clouds.

  Myfanwy glanced up, gasping between amazement and fear as she stared at Arragh’s wings spread in a wide canopy of gray and green and gold. Stretched wider than two men’s height, they moved gently as if ruffled by a summer breeze, but Myfanwy could feel the strength and power that moved them. Each gentle flutter of the great spread wings was matched by a slow ripple across his shoulders and chest.

  If I were that strong, Myfanwy thought, I need never fear anyone again. But since she was soon to die, what matter was fear, or weakness, or the pain searing her leg? In the hands of her brothers or the dragon she was doomed.

  But it was not unpleasant being doomed with Arragh’s strong arm holding her close. Myfanwy rubbed her naked skin against the strange but pleasant texture of the dragon’s skin.

  “Why are you wriggling?” Arragh asked, his words faint as if lost in the wind.

  “I can feel your skin.”

  Arragh looked down and smiled. “You will feel all of it before long, little one.”

  What did he mean? Rape her, he couldn’t. She’d seen most clearly, he had no cock. Would he torture her? That she could not believe. Not with his arms holding her, and after the heat of his kiss. But what use did he have for her? Where were they going? Would she ever see her home and family again? Would—? She let out a quiet yelp as Arragh reached out his free arm toward her.

  “I won’t hurt you, Myfanwy, but you need to move. We have a long journey ahead and I’ll fly more steadily without your weight to one side.”

  Without questioning, she grasped his free arm to bring herself even closer to his chest and the hard gray skin with its tracery of dark veins. The muscles of his arm shifted yet again. Would he drop her? Was that how he killed his victims? But he’d promised not to hurt her! Her mind grappled with her fear and the confusion of the past minutes. “Sir…?” she began.

  “Trust me, Myfanwy.” She did. She was no doubt foolish and dragon-struck but she did trust Arragh. “Let me shift you.” He moved easily until he held her flat against his broad chest. “Hold tight,” he said.

  Her arms met round his neck and he supported her back as she wrapped her legs round his waist. As she locked her ankles together, his hard dragon hide rubbed the soft insides of her thighs. She shuddered a little at the strange sensation but his arms held her, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other supporting her back.

  She felt each finger of his spread hands and the strength of the arms that held her. Looking up, she could make out each mark on his chest and every curve of his face, but most of all, she felt the sweet abrasion of his skin against her legs. She was open, spread and vulnerable and Arragh held her as if he’d never part with her.

  “Afraid?” he asked, his eyes still and questioning.

  “Not as much as when the flame throwers hit me.” Astonishingly, it was true. The scourge of the valley scared her less than her brothers and the villagers she’d known all her life.

  Arragh frowned at her words. “They burned you?”

  “My foot, as I ran.”

  The frown became a scowl. “They will suffer for that!”

  “You promised not to molest the village.”

  “That was before they harmed you, Myfanwy.” He glanced at her, his eyes softening a little. “Do you not want revenge on those who tried to kill you? Justice calls for it.”

  “I want no more killing.”

  “Who spoke of killing? Have you not yet realized I do not kill? My two earlier offerings were slain by your people’s fire throwers, not by me.”

  That she understood. Now. Poor club-footed Mary could never have outrun the flames and tim
id Bron had no doubt been too scared to run. Maybe she had even fled toward the flame throwers, thinking she’d be rescued. That knowledge scrambled Myfanwy’s thoughts. Was nothing as she’d believed? The dragon who was to have slain her, saved her. Her brothers, her one-time protectors, would have killed her. She shut her eyes to better sort out her confusion.

  “You are in pain, Myfanwy?”

  She looked up. A worry frown creased between Arragh’s eyes. “A little.”

  “I think you lie, my sweet one. Flames always sear human flesh.”

  “I am in some pain, Arragh,” she admitted, “but not as bad as I had feared.” Where her leg and foot touched his back, his cool skin soothed the burn.

  “I will ease it. Soon. Ahead is a high ledge we can use as a stopping place.”

  “We go far?”

  “After I heal you.”

  How could he? They had nothing with them. Even herbalists needed their potions. But Arragh could outrun the flames and fly. Who knew what else he might do?

  Lying back in the cradle of his arms, she became even more aware of her openness, with her legs spread wide around his bulk, and her breasts free in the breeze. It was improper, immodest, outrageous.

  Her brothers would have killed at the thought that anyone would hold her so-and naked. Her brothers had tried to kill her.

  Arragh had rescued her and now held her as if by right of possession. A right she had given and accepted when she agreed to leave with him. A right he’d claimed with one mind-bending kiss.

  By the Goddess, what more would the dragon ask of her?

  The fresh air helped cool her burning face, but not the fire inside her. Heat grew between her legs where she pressed against Arragh’s smooth hide and her breasts seemed alive as the breeze brushed over them. She felt his hands on her bare back and wondered if she’d have sear marks from the heat in his fingers.

  “Still in pain, Myfanwy?” Arragh asked, frowning.

  “A little.” Her foot and leg smarted, but other parts seemed more afire.

  “Soon we can stop awhile and I will tend your hurt,” he promised.

  Myfanwy lay back in his arms, watched the scudding clouds overhead, and tried not to think what else Arragh might demand of her. Not that he’d asked much, other than she trust him and leave with him. She’d done the latter but felt a few qualms at the former. If she’d not been chosen as sacrifice, she’d have been wedded next spring to a man of her father’s choosing, mistress of her own hall, and soon to bear children for her husband. Instead she was flying through the air to the far mountains, in the arms of the dragon of Cader Bala. Life did have its twists!

  “You smile,” Arragh said. “Why?” Barely hesitating, she told him her last thoughts. “You regret not having the young husband, and hall, and babes?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to regret what one’s never had. And since I expected to be dead by now…” Would be dead if not for Arragh. “One does not always find what one expects,” she finished.

  “Seldom,” Arragh smiled. “I never thought to find you tied to the sacred oak.”

  She was about to ask him who or what he’d expected to find, but just then his hold tightened until she was flat tight against him. Her breasts all but flattened against his chest and with a sudden move they slowed, soared up a few yards and then dropped straight down. She’d have cried out but the fall took her breath away. Before she had time to think enough to worry, Arragh’s feet hit ground, her legs released and he slid her down his body to stand facing him.

  She stumbled with pain as her left foot touched rock. Arragh muttered what could only be a dragon oath, and swept her up in his arms. Three strides and they were at the rock face. Arragh set her down, her back against a boulder.

  “Where are we?”

  “In the western mountains,” he replied. “There is nothing for us here. Once your foot is healed, we will go on.”

  Where? When? It would be weeks before her leg healed enough to walk on. The skin smarted and throbbed and one glance showed rising blisters and angry red flesh. Here there was nothing but rock and sparse ferns growing out of the cliff face. Behind Arragh’s shoulders she glimpsed open sky, mist and clouds. She guessed they were hundreds, if not thousands of armspans above the ground. There was no sound but the wind, a lone bird cry, and the thudding of her heart. She shivered.

  “Cold, Myfanwy?”

  She should be, naked on a mountainside, but her body still held the heat of Arragh’s closeness. “Not yet.” But how long could she last, stranded here among rocks and stones?

  “Let me look at your leg.” Assuming consent, he knelt beside her, his knee brushing her thigh as his hands reached out and skimmed the livid flesh. “They should burn slowly for this.” A low growl vibrated his chest. “We give them the gift of flame and this is how they abuse it!”

  “You gave us fire?” Astonishment had her all but forgetting her pain.

  Arragh nodded. “Many generations ago. The great Goddess taught us how to make fire and we chose to share the knowledge with humans. They were weak and naked then and we gave them the means of warmth and shelter. We shared other learning. We gave them the wheel and tools to build housing. We showed how to harvest the crops we taught them to grow. In some lands they still revere us for our knowledge and wisdom, but in your country, they resent our power. They try to kill us with flames, not realizing we cannot be destroyed by fire. We are of the mountains and will stand as long as the crags.”

  This was too much to absorb at one sitting, but she sensed there was more, much, much more. While she considered what to ask next, Arragh took her foot in one hand. The other smoothed over her smarting skin. “I’ll heal your leg, Myfanwy. Be still, don’t fight me.”

  As if she could, perched on a rock ledge too high for eagles to nest. As if she wanted to when both his hands circled just below her knee, above the first burn. His touch spread soothing warmth and cool pleasure all at once. She leaned back against the rough boulder, unaware of cold or space or distance, oblivious to everything but the confident touch of the dragon.

  He moved slowly, applying a gentle pressure to her flesh, each fingertip a point of soothing coolness as heat fogged her mind. His hands slid down her leg by thumbspans, cooling the ache and easing the pain and causing wild heat in other places. Her breasts hung heavy and her nipples felt like the rocks at her back. His hands caressed her calf and another fire kindled deep between her legs. What was he doing? Was this the dragon fire her people feared so?

  She’d agreed to not fight him, but now she was fighting her own body’s wild response. What next? His hands were now on her ankle, the skin above soothed of all pain. She glanced down. All mark of burn was gone! Her flesh was clear and smooth as when she’d walked across the turf toward the edge of the trees. Was she dreaming? She’d heard travelers in the high mountains saw strange apparitions and visions in the thin air, but Arragh was no apparition. He was flesh and blood and dragon power.

  His fingers cupped her heel as he lifted her foot. Warm, soothing breath washed like sweet balm over her skin. She knew nothing but the ten points where his fingers touched and the warm caress of his tongue on her instep. When her brothers tickled her feet, she’d screamed and hated it. Now, she purred like a cat in the sunshine. She leaned back against the hard rock and let sensation flood her, lost in a sweet unawareness until Arragh said, “It is well.”

  Her leg might be, but her body ached with needs beyond her understanding.

  “Easy,” Arragh said, rising and holding a hand out to her.

  Glimpsing the sheer drop to the valley below went a long way to clearing her fuddled brain. “You’ve healed it!” Impossible! But he had. She did not feel the slightest twinge and no mark or scar remained. “How can that be?” she asked.

  “We dragons have not shared all our knowledge with humans,” he replied, a smile flashing as he spoke. “Come, Myfanwy, we must go on.”

  “To where?”

  “Cader Ambris.”


  “The fire mountain?” Why not? Dragons were spawned in fire, or so the bards sang. “Is it safe?” Tales said demons and devils lived there. Tales also said her healer was a destroyer.

  “With me, you will always be safe.”

  “I know.” At that minute she did, and trusted him completely, even at the cliff’s edge.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  She was. “Yes.” And she was going to stay dry-mouthed. Where they’d find water on this windswept ledge the Goddess alone knew.

  “Come.” He held out his hand. Three short paces along the ledge he inclined his great head and pointed to a clump of fern growing from a cleft in the rock face. “After you, Myfanwy.” Did he expect her to eat plants? If so, she would soon starve. His fingers were warm under her chin as he turned her face to his. “You don’t know how?” he said, his green eyes flickering with amazement.

  “How to do what?” Eat ferns?

  His chuckle was slow and warmed her with its kindness. “Your people forget so much. Watch, I’ll show you.” An arm round her shoulders pulled her close. He pushed the fern aside with his free hand. They stood thigh to thigh and hip to hip, her skin soaking up his warmth against the wind. “Watch,” he said and placed his mouth over the fern’s fragile root.

  His lips moved as if sucking deeply. Was he drawing moisture from bare rock? Yes! When he lifted his head after several minutes’ slow drinking, a bead of clear mountain water hung from the middle of his lower lip. While she watched, his wide dark tongue gathered up the drop before it fell. “There’s plenty left. The spring runs deep.”

  Completely baffled at how he’d drawn water from bare stone, but trusting he’d never lie, Myfanwy bent her head and rested her lips where his had marked the rock. Suck as she might, nothing came from the crevice but air and a damp dusting of earth. “There’s no more there!” she said, lifting her lips and shaking her head.

  Two fingers trailed like warm water down the side of her face. She almost forgot her thirst in the strange hunger his touch awakened. “You must draw it up, Myfanwy. Use your power.”