King's Bride: A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy (Drakoryan Brides Book 5)

by Ava Sinclair

  I stand, heavy with the weight of what I have done, and with the responsibility to undo the damage I’ve caused. Had I not been so prideful, Zara would have been escorted to my chamber this night. As it is, I must beg entry into hers.

  I have much time to think as I walk through the castle, and to reflect on the resentment and feelings of entitlement I have harbored since realizing that King Vukuris was my sire. Being the youngest Drakoryan brother is not easy. We are the last to learn to use weapons, the last to fly. We lose the most wrestling matches, and watch our brothers develop as men and dragons before it is our turn. The wait can be painful. All my childhood, the equalizer was the king. We all called him father, but inside I knew I alone was trueborn of his blood. Over time, I twisted that distinction into feelings of superiority and entitlement. I would look at my father’s crown and imagine it on my head. I would look at the throne and imagine sitting in it. I could see myself as king. When I was denied it through rightful victory, I sought to sow hurt and revenge wherever I could.

  Now I stand outside the private quarters of a woman I do not deserve, despite what blood flows in my veins. I rap quietly until the door to the antechamber opens a bit. Through the crack I see the face of a scowling maid glaring up at me.

  “The queen is not taking visitors.”

  “I understand. But if you could tell her Prince Oneg urgently seeks an audience.”

  The scowl deepens. Queen Zara must have arrived back here in a state of distress for the maid to be so protective, or so defiant. “As I said, the queen is not taking visitors.”

  She goes to shut the door, but I put my hand up, preventing her. “I cannot force my way in, but I implore you. If you would just—”

  “It’s all right, Aliza. Let him in.” The queen’s voice is sad and weary from where it reaches me. I cannot see her. I move my hand. The door shuts, then opens again. The maid, an old woman with the face of a dried apple, continues to glare. When Zara kindly dismisses her, she shuffles off with a reluctant mumble.

  When we are alone in her inner chamber, I bow before the queen. This is protocol, and I had dreaded doing it. But now I bend the knee with sincere humility, lowering my head as well.

  “My queen. I have been selfish. I have been hurtful. I have been prideful. But most of all, I have been wrong. I have maligned you as a damaged vessel when you are stronger than any man I know. I have accused you of inviting destruction of the ShadowFell when you alone have resisted it. I am not worthy to ask you for forgiveness. I am not worthy to ask to lie with you. But I come now, the trueborn son of King Vukuris, as a humble and broken prince begging you to repair not just me, but a house that will surely die without your mercy.”

  The feel of her warm hand on my head leaves me breathless with hope. She surprises me further by kneeling to take my hands. “Rise, Prince Oneg. Of course I forgive you.”

  I stand with her and although I am looking down at her, I feel her presence looming in the room. She is stronger and wiser than I realized, and I am humbled by kindness, arriving as it has on the heels of my cruelty.

  “I have a question for you, though. And I want you to be honest.” She eyes me directly. “Do you want me?”

  I put my hand to her face. “When I fought, my thoughts were for the crown. When I lost my chance for that, I shut myself off from the greater treasure—you. With a second chance, my queen, I would show you how much I want you.”

  Zara smiles. “Then show me.” Her smile fades then, and her hand moves to the mark on her forehead. “Unless this has ruined me for you.”

  “You are perfect.” It is not just flattery. I mean what I say, and I feel unworthy. I feel less than a man in her presence.

  Zara stands quietly as I reach for the ties on the front of her grown. It’s heather green, the bodice bound with lacing that I now undo. She focuses on my fingers loosening her garment. The bodice, attacked to the skirt, falls to the floor, leaving her in just a chemise. When I reach for it, she gives me a little nod and lifts her arms.

  I lift the shift over her head and step back, admiring her lithe body. My cock has risen in response to the sight of her. I want to make our first time pleasurable for her; I want to take her in a way that purges the hurt I’ve caused.

  “If I could give you one thing, my queen, what would it be?”

  She considers this. “I would like to feel that all is well, that I am safe, that we are all safe.”

  There is a chair nearby. I sit down and pull her into my lap, cradling her. “I would give you that if I could.” I speak the words into her hair. “I would give my life to keep you safe, my queen.” Her lips move to mine. The kiss is almost chaste in its sweetness. It makes me want her more, and when the next kiss deepens, I feel my cock rise and press against my leather skirt. It nudges the firm mounds of her bottom, and she shifts, the innocent movement making me groan.

  “How did my brothers take you?”

  “On the bed, lying between my legs.” She pauses. “Are there other ways?”

  I tip her off my lap and guide her to the bed. “I would ask you to trust me, even though I have not earned it.”

  Zara lets me help her up and position her on all fours with her pretty white ass facing towards me. Her bed is lower than mine. In fact, it’s just the right height. I’m behind her now, and move my hands to her breasts, feeling the nipples harden in my hands. I play with them until she moans, then drop my lips to her shoulder. I push her hair aside and nibble across her shoulder and down her back. I crown each firm buttock with a little bite, and am rewarded with a whimper. When I slide my hand between her legs, I feel the slickness of her arousal.

  I part her bottom cheeks, lapping her labia until she’s moaning, then moving my tongue upward to rim the tight rosebud of her anus. The queen gasps, but when I spread her outer pussy lips, I find the petals of her inner flower deep pink and engorged.

  I stand and my cock quivers and splits into two appendages, one flattening and lathing the hood shielding the bud of her passion as the other slips into her heat-slick passage.

  “Ohhhh!” She looks back, her eyes widening in surprise, her pussy already rippling along my length as her body surges towards its first climax. Seeing her pleasure increases mine. I am pleasuring my queen, and she is strong enough to submit to what I am doing to her, strong enough to yield to the dual sensations.

  Zara pushes back against me as I thrust forward. My heavy balls slap against her labia. My hands grasp her hips so tightly I fear I may leave her marked, but she seems to revel in this.

  “Yes, yes, yes, my prince.” She’s urging me onward, her body as forgiving as her nature. I feel redemption with each thrust into the welcoming body that grips my cock like a sheath. She’s so tight, so sweet.

  Zara lowers her upper body and arches her back, inviting me to sink even more deeply inside. I want to make it last but hold back, riding the waves of her climaxes again and again before taking my own release. As I spend, she rises, writhing on my pulsing cock, laying her head against my shoulder as she accepts my seed. And I understand that she had me take her in a way that restored my faith to be the man I was born to be.

  “My prince,” she says, and looks back at me.

  “My queen.” I stare down at her in wonder, not only because of the transformation she has wrought in me, but because the mark the enemy put on her is fading before my eyes.

  Chapter 18

  Queen Zara

  He has lost his grip. I could feel the invisible tightness that has held me since I awoke from the spell weakening as Prince Oneg claimed me. Evil feeds on ill intent. When Prince Oneg presented himself at my chamber door, I had a choice. I could either reject him and increase the pain that empowered King Seadus of the ShadowFell, or I could free myself through the gift of trust and redemption.

  Now I turn to Prince Oneg. I take his face in my hands.

  “You look so very much like the image of your father in the murals.” As soon as I say the words I wonder if I should ha
ve. A shadow of sadness crosses his face, but passes. He smiles.

  “I am his son,” he says. “But so are the other princes. And now I shall join them in honoring the legacy of King Vukuris.”

  I touch my now-unblemished forehead. “And I will be your queen, and look forward to the day when the ShadowFell are vanquished forever.”

  “And they will be.” He pauses. “When next I take you, it will be in my bedchamber. You have not seen it.”

  “I haven’t.” I smile. “Has a mate ever taken the queen in her chambers?”

  Prince Oneg furrows his brow. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask Ezador.”

  I laugh at this. “I would linger long with you, but I am expecting two ladies to attend me today.”

  “Yes.” He nods. “Lady Lyla and Lady Thera.”

  “We do have time for a bath, however.” I walk naked to the steaming spring and slip into the water. “Join me?”

  I don’t have to ask him twice. Prince Oneg walks in, reaching for me as steam swirls around us.

  “Lady Lyla should not be traveling,” I fret. “She is so heavily pregnant.”

  “Worry not. Her mates are coming with her. They seek counsel with King Bymir.”

  “You say his title more easily now.” I make this observation cautiously.

  “Yes, my queen. You’ve shown me that power does not lie in a crown, but within.”

  I’m touched. “I think we will be more than lovers, Prince Oneg. I think that we shall also be friends.”

  He holds me then, and we luxuriate in the water. I ask him about growing up in the castle. He tells me of its history, of hidden tunnels, of how the Mystic Mountain would hum with magic when the witches did their work. It will be that way again, he says with certainty, and I hope he is right.

  When we finally dress and leave my inner chamber, Prince Oneg and I find that someone has not only left lunch for us in the anteroom, but discreetly selected perfect fare for a couple that has expended passionate energy. The youngest brother and I dine on rabbit and turnips stewed in ale sauce, cakes baked with unborn grains, and candied fruits. My appetite is practically fierce, and Oneg jokes that flesh will soon finish covering my hipbones.

  He’d entered with apprehension, and leaves walking taller. No sooner has he gone than my maid enters. She acts as if nothing has happened, even though she finds me wearing only me chemise.

  I’m looking forward to seeing Lady Lyla. She travels everywhere with Lady Thera now. The two have become friends. The newly mated Lady Thera was the first Drakoryan Bride not to be taken as a virgin. She was a village healer until recently. She saved my life, and will also be the one to deliver Lady Lyla’s baby when the time comes.

  “Which gown, my queen?” The maid has appeared with two others, each holding out one of the gowns Isla had made for me when I was in her care. I select one of midnight blue, with crisscrossed ribbons that mold it to my torso. It was loose on me when my sister had it made. I’m filling it out better now, and feel glad for it.

  When I’m dressed, I make my way to the Great Hall to welcome Lady Lyla and Lady Thera. It is a happy reunion. Both women greet me with hugs and kisses. Lyla of Fra’hir looks radiant but weary, her belly enormous on her tiny frame.

  Lady Thera fusses like a mother hen, asking about my health. She’s pleased that I’m putting on weight. She delivers a gift from my sister, a silken wrap.

  We spend the day in my chambers, and although they are here in service of the queen, we have become friends and I insist they let me play hostess. Although the king and his brothers have persistently told me these are lean times, I still consider the fare I’m able to offer Lady Lyla and Lady Thera to be sumptuous by village standards. The kitchen cooks have worked their magic to turn flour and dried fruit into delicious tarts with piping hot, sweet centers. Wedges of hard cheese, strips of salt venison, and brown bread are the more savory fare. There is even wine, although Lady Lyla declines strong drink.

  As I chat with my ladies, I’m ever mindful that there is one more prince to take me before I am to be joined with my four mates in the Deepening.

  “What is it like?” I ask Lyla and Thera, for I no longer have to ask about the carnal mysteries.

  “The Deepening is beautiful.” Lady Lyla is reclined on a soft lounge, her hands clasped over a huge belly that shifts shape as the baby moves inside her. “You experience your mates’ memories, feel what they feel. You understand what has generated both joy and pain in their lives. You better understand their strengths.”

  “You also better understand their weaknesses and fears,” Thera confides. “And they also get the same understanding of you. It is a journey through the mind, and we are fortunate to experience it. I daresay without it, I’d still find my five mates a mystery indeed.”

  “Five.” Lyla laughs. “I am in awe of you, Thera. I can barely handle four. Even big with child I can barely keep their hands off me. When do you sleep?”

  “Some nights not at all.” Thera grins wickedly. “The twins do everything together.”

  “Everything?” I gasp. “Even that?”

  “Even that,” Thera says knowingly. “And as a woman who was once married to a human man, while I adored my husband and still do, lying with a Drakoryan is unlike lying with any other man. I sometimes feel women who go to their dragon-men as virgins don’t fully appreciate how skillful they are.”

  Lyla turns on her side to face me. “Are you enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, Queen Zara? Or is that too forward a question?”

  “No. It’s not too forward. And yes. I enjoy it very much. I was worried that I’d be too small when I saw how…substantial my mates were. But they fit inside me nicely.”

  Both women break into peals of good-natured laughter. “Quite nicely, indeed.” Thera reaches over and gives me a hug. “I am happy for you. You deserve good things.”

  We continue to talk as women do, discussing the son Lyla will soon have, our hopes that the ShadowFell’s absence will be an extended one. Thera talks of spring. She says she sees signs that the hard winter will give way to early warmth. Already she has helped the villagers start seeds that will be small plants when the ground is ready.

  We bathe in the pools, and the soreness from the delightful use of my last mate ebbs away, leaving me to think of Rargi, who will soon invite me to his bedchamber. The princes are taking me in haste, and I have no complaints. I am eager to be a fully-mated queen. I am hopeful for the Deepening and the understanding it will bring us.

  When the maid comes to tell me Prince Rargi requests an audience, Thera rises first and helps Lyla to her feet. The Lady of Fra’hir jokes that she must waddle as she walks, and complains of pressure low in her belly. Lady Thera tells her she will check her once she’s settled, and that a change of position is likely to help matters.

  Once I have seen them off, the maid prepares me to meet Rargi. He is second-born and the fairest of the brothers. There is a gentleness about him, but I know people are not always what they seem. I would have expected Prince Oneg to be aloof, but he was worshipful. I would have expected the king to be commanding, but he was kind. I would have expected Prince Yrgi to be masterful, but he let me take the lead. Even so, all so far have made me feel claimed, and the memories are already causing a throb between my legs. I will go to Prince Rargi slick from expectation, even though I don’t know what awaits.

  Chapter 19

  Prince Rargi

  If a Drakoryan can’t be victorious in the battle of brothers, at the very least he prays he will not be the first to fall. When I took to the skies, I was as full of hope and lust as my siblings, save Oneg. But as fate proved, hope and lust alone will not carry the day.

  The best of us won. Bymir will be a good king. It has been my lot to sit and wait as, one by one, my brothers took Queen Zara to their beds. Now it is my turn.

  I try to stop myself from pacing the room, but the heat has been building in me since the battle. I’ve kept it under control, but today I fear i
t may consume me if I don’t have her. She has been ensconced in her chambers with two ladies. I cannot fault her for taking her time. I try not to be impatient.

  When the door opens, the woman who walks in is a bit different than the woman who greeted the last brother who took her. Zara is more confident. She knows a man’s touch now. She knows what she likes. And there is something intoxicating about her; how else could Oneg have been so transformed? He went crawling to her bedchamber as a shamed man, and returned to us as rejuvenated and agreeable as I’ve seen him in years.

  It seems impossible that this wisp of a woman could so easily enrapture my brothers, who have had so many before her. I have had many a woman, too. I know that a Drakoryan’s inner fire burns hottest for his true mate. Zara is beautiful, but she greets me calmly and coyly. Is she hiding her passion? I sense she is, that she wants me to draw it out.

  My queen. I kneel before her, offering my fealty.

  “Rise, my prince Rargi.”

  At her command I obey, towering over her. I am clad only in a leather shirt, she in an ivory night dress. She greeted at least one of my other brothers in a sheer garment, but this one is modest and hides all her charms. I’m eager to see her out of it, and honest enough to tell her so.

  “Queen Zara, my father once said patience is the greatest virtue. I find it difficult to maintain mine with you so close. I do not want to frighten you, but I fear if I am to disrobe you, I’ll tear the gown from your body.”

  Her surprising answer raises the temperature of my blood. “Over these past nights, I have learned that love does not have to be tender to be pleasant.” She smiles. “Perhaps a queen would like to have the gown torn from her body.”

  I step to her. My breath is ragged in my throat.

  “Your eyes.” She looks up at me. “So golden.”

  I pull her to me more roughly than I’d intended. My hand finds the neckline of her garment. The fabric rips easily in my hands. Two pulls and it is open down the front. I look down at her little breasts, the tight nipples tilted upwards. I can already smell the hint of musk clinging to the damp curls of her pussy. She is aroused. She wants me to take her. The queen has had instruction at the hands of my brothers. She is a woman ready to be fucked hard, I think. She is a woman ready to feel the blending of the line between pleasure and pain.