Rebel Bride_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy

by Ava Sinclair

  “My lord, my lord, my lord…” Cries of pleasure pour from my mouth like a litany. I can say nothing else. Pure, molten pleasure courses through me. My cottage is filled with the sound of wet, eager sex. His broad back is hot under my hands. Lord Erdorin’s eyes glow golden. I look into them and see the dragon, but I am not afraid. I am simply overwhelmed by the power and fierceness of our coupling.

  Carnal tension winds in me like a spring, releasing to spiral out of my mouth in a scream as rushes of ecstasy ripple through my body. I feel Lord Erdorin stiffen above me, as his tribute floods my core. I stare up at the low ceiling of my cottage, feeling as if I’m floating higher than the beams above me. As my body relaxes, I wait for the dreaded feeling of shame. I have taken pleasure beyond imagining with another man. Surprisingly, I only feel peace.

  Chapter 18

  JAREO

  Newly mated with Erdorin, Thera is now a sweet promise awaiting the rest of us, but she is different and will not be rushed. This morning, she’d brought food to us by the well. We’d just finished the last of the halls, and the attention she gave me allowed me to hope that this would be my night.

  Yet this evening brought not the heat of passion, but the heat of battle.

  We’ve known what to expect. We’d battled the ShadowFell before.

  But the villagers, who have only seen small dragons, are ill-prepared for the two huge black dragons that approach from the north on the last night of the full moon, moving at unbelievable speed towards their homes and loved ones. From the south, the sky is dark with smaller dragons.

  Sentries posted in the stone watchtowers we erected beyond the villages immediately pound the gongs, the sound sending women, children, and the elderly to the newly constructed halls. Every lord in the village transforms into dragon form and takes to the air. Every able man who has agreed to fight rushes for his weapon.

  There are no words to explain the feeling of Drakoryan battle rage. It is a controlled fury that turns our field of vision red and heightens our senses. The desire to kill, carefully restrained in other cases, is unleashed. In the past, we defended only our castles. This time, the stakes are so much higher. We fight for the villagers below, and also the woman we love. The other lords, no doubt, think of their mates in the castles ringing the valley. And then there is the Mystic Mountain, which holds the magic the ShadowFell need to carry out their ultimate plan to become half-human like us.

  The castles and mountain are now surrounded by other dragons, circling in protection. There are a dozen of us guarding the village; half speed towards the flock of small, twisted dragons coming from the south. I join those heading directly towards the two ShadowFell.

  I can feel their hatred, pent up and festering for centuries against the Drakoryans—the only enemies they have never been able to defeat. I see the sides of the ShadowFells’ necks inflate as they inhale air to make fire. The one heading directly towards me cocks his head. The elliptical pupil of the red eye dilates. It is fixed on the village storehouse.

  I intercept and slam into him. As I do, I feel a wave of heat behind me, the sound of screams below. But I cannot turn my attention away from the dragon I’ve knocked off balance. It rolls toward the ground and recovers to turn on me with dizzying swiftness. I barely have time to evade the jet of white hot flame that erupts from the great maw of a mouth, but in that one moment, I achieve my purpose. The ShadowFell has no fire for its target now and roars its fury into the darkening sky.

  It heads straight for me, angling the lethal hook of its wing joint so that it catches the membrane of my wing before I can move out of the way. This time, it is my scream that resounds through the valley below; I retaliate by whipping my serpentine tail towards my foe and miraculously catch him just underneath his belly, throwing him upwards. He ascends at an arc, and this time before he can recover I see a flash of white. Erdorin appears from nowhere, grabbing the huge dragon by the back of the head. I dip down, folding my wing as I dive. I grasp the edge of the ShadowFell’s nearest wing in my jaws, holding fast so it cannot swipe up and slice my brother with its claw. Down below, the soldiers rush into position, small figures that grow larger as we plummet towards the ground. This is the most dangerous part of our attack— both to us and those below. If we let go too soon, the ShadowFell may recover and attack us, too late, and we all fall together into what awaits.

  But our timing is perfect. We release just in time; the ShadowFell dragon strikes the ground just as the soldiers launch the metal nets. As soon as the snare is sprung, they run for their lives, just as we taught them. We hover above the trapped enemy, aiming deadly fire down onto it. The villagers fall to the ground, covering their ears against the piercing screams. The nets hold the dragon long enough for us to kill it, and because few metals can withstand dragon fire, by the time we are finished, the net itself is melted into the charred, smoking ShadowFell carcass.

  When the villagers cheer, our battle cry warns them that danger is not over. A dozen of the small soldier dragons have landed. We swoop down, grabbing them up and slinging them in half as the soldiers rush them with swords or shoot them with arrows.

  In the distance, the other ShadowFell is in full retreat, pursued by two dragons I recognize as Lords of Za’vol.

  Well done, brother, I say, gliding down to land. Because my wing is torn, I am vulnerable in the air. Erdorin provides cover as I land to intercept a trio of the small twisted dragon soldiers running towards the building that shelters the most vulnerable. I raise my foot, pinning one dragon to the ground, feeling its bones crush beneath my foot. Another I crush with my jaws, but the third directs a line of fire at an approaching group of village men. Screams fill the air, and I drop the dead dragon from my jaws to snatch that one, too, as villagers fire on another, dropping it to the ground. Some of the arrows fly past, bouncing off my scales. Through the smoke, I realize that the skies are empty of the enemy and the other Drakoryan lords are landing to shift.

  A cry of victory rises from all quarters. I shift back, glad that we have prevailed but grieved to see that there have been causalities. Two village soldiers have been fatally burnt. Several others lie gravely injured.

  “Lord Jareo!” I turn at the sound of my name to see Thera running towards me.

  “Wait!” I say, holding out my hand. We have ordered the villagers to stay sheltered until we gave the word for them to exit the halls, yet she ignores me. Basket in hand, she runs to the first man and kneels. I can tell by her expression that she realizes he is dead, and I see her put her face in her hands as I recognize now that the victim is her Uncle Releg. She rises, suppressing a sob, but does not stop. She rushes to the next victim, moving on from body to body until she finds a living victim.

  “We pushed them to retreat.” Gyrvig is at my side.

  “Well fought, brother,” I say.

  “We have losses.” I hear my disappointment reflected in his tone and know that both of us fear that seeing their dead kinfolk will demoralize the surviving soldiers. We are wrong. The village men have been transformed by their first battle. Having never been at war, they have never tasted this kind of loss. Yet they have never tasted this kind of victory, either. It is with a hardened resolve that they help us lift and honor the fallen amid the weeping of wives and mothers and sisters who have emerged to either embrace their men or wail over their bodies.

  The injured are laid in the hall that sheltered the villagers. The other healers have come to help despite the cold, but as the youngest, Thera has taken charge, dispensing linen and ointments to the other healers as she tends those she can. In another hall, the village priestesses tend to the dead.

  When Thera walks past me, her eyes widen as she notices the slice on my arm caused by the ShadowFell’s claw. The tendon and muscle underneath are exposed.

  “By the gods.” She pales at the sight of my wound. “You need a healing, too.”

  “No,” I say. “I will be fine.”

  She shakes her head. “You will not be fine.
You are injured worse than some! How do you even stand?”

  “I will heal in the pools,” I say, and as soon as I do, her eyes narrow in question.

  “What pools?”

  I put my hand over my wound. “In the castles, there are magical pools. For years the Drakoryans have availed themselves of the healing powers.”

  “You possess pools that can heal something like this?” She is incredulous. “Then all the injured will go…”

  “They are sacred,” I say, realizing how selfish this must sound.

  Tears come to her eyes. To the left, her aunt sobs as she washes the body of her Uncle Releg. “All our lives are sacred,” she says. “If you can heal yourselves, you will heal those who fought with you.”

  This is not a decision I am allowed to make, but the woman before me is as fierce as any dragon and will not be refused. I go seek my brothers, who are standing by the well looking to the skies where other lords patrol as dragons.

  “We cannot refuse,” Erdorin says when I relay what has happened. “If we heal ourselves and not them, we will break faith. Thera will not keep this a secret.”

  I nod and call for several of the strongest villagers to fetch litters and pile them with furs. We will take the injured to the castle, but I have decided Thera will go as well.

  Chapter 19

  THERA

  “You will go, healer, to help the injured.”

  Is it a trick to get me to the castle? I had told myself I would not leave my people, but I cannot refuse when Jareo consents to transport the injured to the pools. What healer would not want to see such wonders?

  A dragon comes in with an enclosed litter. The injured are put inside, and I climb in with them. My fellow passengers moan in pain.

  As they were being loaded, I looked out beyond the cottages to see the remains of the huge black dragon. Although it was burnt, I could see with my own eyes how wrong I had been. The beast was larger even than the Drakoryan dragons. I had heard the scream of it as I huddled inside the hall with the others. I had heard the clash of battling dragons, the cries of men inspired by the Drakoryans to become warriors.

  This has changed us. This has changed me. The Drakoryans have told us true. My mates, who I thought false, have honor.

  Mates. Since Erdorin bedded me, my mind has strayed more than once to passion. Had the ShadowFell not attacked, I’d likely be bedded by the second brother by now. But I know this, too, will come in time. For now, there are other things I must focus upon. I pray to the God and Goddess that the extract of poppy will keep the men pain-free until we get to the healing pools. I pray that the rise and fall of their chests will not falter. I speak to them when they moan, telling them that they will be healed.

  The dragon carries the litter across the valley. I hear the flapping of mighty wings, and the sound of water, stronger than any river. When the litter bumps to a landing and the door opens, I am surprised by what I see. We have landed on a rocky platform. Beyond it is more water than I’ve ever seen in my life, and a pinpoint of light I realize is the mouth of the cave through which we entered. I look at Jareo, who ferried the litter and is now back in human form.

  A lord emerges from a nearby tunnel. He is tall and bearded.

  “Lord Tythos, there’s not much time.” Jareo’s tone is grave. Lord Tythos nods. Servants run forward, and the injured moan in agony as they are lifted and placed on portable litters for transportation to the pools. Jareo takes my hand and guides me into the tunnel, which is dark and lit by torches on the walls. Whatever notions I had of grandeur are dispelled. These look like the dank pathways between caves my friends and I explored as children, but when the tunnel we travel finally opens into a cavern, I find myself stopping to stare.

  Huge glowing pool send tendrils of steam towards a ceiling hanging with stalactites embedded with shimmering gems. The paths between the pools are slightly recessed from centuries of footfalls. I walk over to where the injured villagers are lowered into the waters. As a healer, I have dealt with burns and broken bones. To see blisters shrink and heal and new skin replace what had sloughed off from heat is nothing short of miraculous. To my left, a man whose legs were broken by the swipe of a small dragon’s tail moans as his bones knit back together and the badly bent legs straighten before my eyes.

  “It’s magic.” I continue to stare in wonder as the servants help the men from the pools. Jareo explains that humans cannot stay in the pools for every long, as the waters are not only addictive but can heighten the senses so that one may run mad. “And what of Drakoryans?” I ask, realizing that he has yet to mend his arm.

  He smiles. “Even we cannot stay in too long.” The others have left. “Join me?”

  “I am not injured.” I feel shy suddenly.

  “You do not need to be. If you are tired or bothered, these waters can calm the nerves.” He takes my hand. “Come with me.” His other hand moves to where my cape ties at my neck. He pulls it free, and I do not resist as he pushes it from my shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” I drop my gaze. “What if someone comes?”

  His grin widens. “I think they will give us our privacy.”

  I watch his fingers undo the stays of my bodice. The halves fall apart and move to the clasp of my skirt. It falls free; the open bodice and chemise follow.

  I kick off my boots and allow him to lead me to the water’s edge. Jareo goes in first, and I follow. As soon as I step into the water, I gasp at the sensation. A warm tingle floods from my feet and upward through my body. And Jareo’s arm, submerged, is already starting to heal. The serrated tendon mends first, and then the muscle fuses back in place before the seam of the wound itself closes. The only evidence is a thin pink line that begins to fade when he lifts it from the water.

  I reach out, my fingers moving over the disappearing scar. “How many lives could I save if I had waters like this. Do your servants use it often?”

  “No,” he says. “Some have, although most do not want to. We do not refuse them, but since one went mad, they avoid it.”

  “But the benefits…”

  He sighs. “Yes, they are remarkable. But the serving class is practical. They do not envy us our long lives. They believe death is the doorway to the Summerlands.”

  “We believe that, too,” I say, then look up at him. “Do the Drakoryans believe it?”

  “All dragons enter the World of Shadow after death.” He lifts me into his arms. “Let’s move to another pool, one with regular water.” I do not object as he carries me from the healing waters to a smaller pool that is just as warm. He walks in and lets me go when he is up to his shoulders. The water is over my head. I am forced to hold his shoulders.

  “Why do you enter the World of Shadow, Lord Jareo?”

  “We are cursed, Thera. The Lord and Lady made us half dragon as punishment for the sins of King Eknor, who defiled the sacred Wyld with his cruelty and brought needless death to its creatures. He died for what he did. His three sons were the first of our kind, half-dragon destined to walk between the worlds of beast and man. It will be no different when we die. Unnaturally long life is our gift, but we are consigned to exist apart from humankind after our deaths, at least until the curse is lifted.”

  I feel suddenly sad. “And what of your mates?”

  “They will have to keep one another company in the Summerlands.” He touches the back of his fingers to the side of my face as I look up at him. “But you will also have your lost mate to greet you, so you will be luckier than most.”

  I knew men in my village who were so possessive they could not bear to hear their woman speak favorably on another man. Yet Jareo, like Erdorin, does not force me to forget my mate. They encourage me to honor him.

  I study the face above me. Jareo is so handsome. His braid has become undone, and the moist heat of the cavern has made his hair damp, curling tendrils around his face. I find myself wondering how the rough stubble of his jaw would feel against my face, but it is his eyes that fascinate me the m
ost. They are the most beautiful shade of gray, and glitter slightly with the same gold I saw in Erdorin’s before he took me.

  “Are you going to take me now?”

  He arches a brow. “Do you want me to? Today we battled and defeated our deadliest foe, but to hear you say you want me would be an even sweeter victory.”

  “Is your cock also different?” I flush at my own boldness.

  “Ah, of course you know our secret. Here, let me show you.”

  He puts my hand down and I grip his turgid shaft. It is large like his brother’s, yet feels no different than any other man’s. Jareo grins and guides me to the edge of the pool,where he moves behind me while I place my hands on the ledge.

  “You’ve been taken here,” he says, winding his hand between my leg. He massages my clit, making me moan into the rising steam before slipping his finger into my pussy. My hips follow the motion of his long fingers. My body is hypnotized by his touch. His mouth is against my ear as he presses against me. “Have you been taken here?” He withdraws his fingers from my clenching pussy to press them against the asterisk of my bottom hole. I cry out in surprise and reflexively try to pull away, but I cannot. I am trapped between his hard, hot body and the pool’s smooth edge.

  “No,” I say as his finger continues to press. “We have men in our village who take other men. That is their way.”

  He chuckles. “A man can take a woman there, too, once she’s willing…” His tongue flicks my ear. He moves my hair aside to nip at the column of my neck. “If she’s wanton.”

  Jareo moves into me from below, his cock a fleshy hook that expands as it fills me. I lean back, resting my head on his shoulder as his hands move forward to pluck and roll my nipples in his nimble fingers. I am suspended on his cock. It moves within me even though he isn’t thrusting. I moan as the wanton he said I’d be. He is treading water, the motion of his body increasing the new sensations. His other hand moves down, teasing my clit, pulling it, pinching it. My climax begins to build. My pussy grips and ripples along the length of his cock. I cry out my pleasure, no longer caring if anyone hears.