Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem: A Paranormal Holiday Fantasy

by Savannah Skye

  "They're not."

  "But they are. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to read them." I could see the words there in front of me, clearly in English.

  Weren't they?

  Before my eyes, the words wobbled, phasing between letters I recognized and symbols I wouldn't even have recognized as being language. "Do you mean, I can read these because I'm part dragon? Because I have dragon blood?” I demanded excitedly.

  He made the face again. "Yes and no. Mostly no. You don't really need to know."

  "But I want to know."

  The face again. "Not sure you do."

  "MacKenzie!"

  The big man shrugged. "They're magic books. Not just books with magic spells written in them, the books themselves have a degree of magic, a degree of... sentience."

  I stared at the book I was reading, glad I hadn't folded back the corner of any pages to mark my place.

  "You mean, it's alive?” I whispered reverently.

  "Not exactly," MacKenzie hedged. "But the truth is more complicated."

  "How does that explain how I can read them?"

  "You're not reading them," MacKenzie explained.

  "Yes, I am."

  "No. They're reading themselves to you."

  "But I can see the words,” I shot back, exasperated.

  MacKenzie sighed. "The books are reading their contents directly into your mind so it seems as if you're reading them in English."

  "The book is in my head?"

  MacKenzie nodded, then, observing my still befuddled expression, he added, "Told you, you didn't want to know."

  However the information got into my mind, there was a lot of it, and interspersed amongst it was some useful stuff.

  In the evening, we went to another room in which I had not been before; the forge. If the library had been designed with both human and dragon in mind, the forge was the realm of dragons.

  "It's a place of fire," explained Callum. He shifted into dragon form, his body a deep violet, while his eyes remained dark, and blew fire into the forge itself.

  "He loves this shit,” Duncan whispered to me. "Every birthday, we all get something he made in here. Clever, mind. He could make anything from a girder to a strand of wire as fine as your hair. He'll make your sword."

  The book had given very definite specifications for the sword, starting with it being forged by someone who loved me.

  I might not have enjoyed the physical intimacy with him that I had with Alistair and Duncan, but that didn't lessen my feelings for him, and his feelings for me were strong enough that I could sense them.

  I watched him as, with extraordinary dexterity, he turned the tiny blade in his claws, laying it on the anvil, hammering it flat, then folding the metal, heating it with his breath, then flattening it out again, shaping the edge. As I watched, I realized that I no longer saw a dragon when I looked – or, at least, I saw a dragon, but it was Callum.

  Human or dragon, it was Callum.

  And human or dragon, I found him equally attractive.

  There was something about watching him at work like this that I found deeply sexy. I felt Duncan nudge me playfully in the ribs and I blushed. I still wasn't quite as comfortable with this situation as they were, still found it odd to think that I could sleep with all of them and there would be no recriminations or jealousy. There was something to be said for it as a way of doing things, but it still weirded me out a bit. Perhaps that uncertainty showed in my face because Duncan kissed me and whispered in my ear.

  “Don’t fight it, love.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t. I’m just getting used to... how you do things." My eyes moved from Duncan's achingly handsome face to Callum at work.

  When the sword was finished, I laid it between the pages of the book and placed my hand on the cover. The men did the same, covering my hand with theirs. Then the males still in human form shifted, one after another, their massive claws on top of my tiny hand, on top of the book, and on top of the sword. That was the spell—a spell of protection. Whether or not it had worked I would not know until the battle.

  There was another spell I wanted to try. One that would give me strength, but the idea of it made me a little queasy and yet, in that dark corner of my mind that seemed to have flourished since I arrived here, excited.

  “Sooo, apparently, I’ve got to drink your blood," I explained to the guys, expecting some sort of reaction.

  They took the announcement far more prosaically than I had expected.

  "Whose?"

  "All of ours, of course."

  "You don't know that. You didn't read the book. It's not a stupid question."

  "If it's just one of us, then which one?"

  "I think, even if the spell only requires blood from one of us, she should drink all our blood. Just to be fair."

  "And to make sure it works."

  "Sure, that, too."

  "It's all of your blood," I cut into one of the weirdest arguments I had ever heard—and I had heard some odd ones recently. "All of your blood."

  Specifically, it was the blood of my beloveds. Dragon magic centered around love, and always used the word “beloved” in the plural—making the assumption that a female would have more than one. There was something mystical about love to them, it allowed them a closeness that went beyond intimacy and into empathy, close to telepathy. Love to a dragon was more than a promise, it was a state of being, you couldn't fake it, you couldn't deny it. As someone who had been with her share of jerks in the past, the dragon way of doing things seemed very appealing. Love was magic, it should be treated as such. The thought made me glow from the inside out.

  "Individually or all mixed together?"

  "Don't know. Should probably check the book."

  They were still chattering about me drinking their blood as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Only MacKenzie had the insight to ask the important question.

  "What does it do?"

  "Makes me stronger," I replied.

  "Stronger how?"

  "The book wasn't specific," I admitted. "But stronger has got to be good, right?"

  MacKenzie nodded, but I could not help thinking that there was something on his mind.

  A few minutes later, I watched as Duncan sliced a blade across his thumb and dribbled some of his blood into a goblet.

  "Is that enough?"

  "Just a few drops is fine." I smiled back.

  "Keep the change."

  Callum was next, then Alistair, and finally MacKenzie, who then passed the goblet to me with solemn ceremony. I looked down at the red pool in the bottom.

  This was gross. I mean, seriously; blood drinking? That could hardly be... hygienic. And yet, I wanted it, too.

  "Drink it while it’s warm," said Duncan, making MacKenzie shake his head in despair.

  I nodded and gulped down the blood of the Dragon Shifters before I could change my mind.

  It was sweeter than I expected, complex and murky but not at all unpleasant. They all watched me, as if waiting for bulging muscles to explode from my arms.

  They didn't.

  I couldn't feel anything much happening, in fact. Which was rather disappointing.

  "How do you feel?" asked MacKenzie.

  I considered the question. "Hungry."

  "How can you be hungry?" asked Duncan. "You just had the blood of four dragons."

  But as we ate a short while later in the dining hall, I noticed two things happening. The first was the empathetic link I had felt between myself and these men since I got here seemed suddenly deeper. It was nothing clear, nothing definite, just a sense.

  Duncan made a joke and I felt his exhilaration when the others laughed, and also felt the others' enjoyment of the joke, jostling alongside my own.

  MacKenzie smiled at me and the warmth of his feeling, the protectiveness he felt for me, washed over me.

  A pang from Alistair told me that Catriona had crossed his mind just a moment before he looked at me and a rush of pu
re love washed over me.

  I felt it all.

  Their desire for me, their love for me, and their fear for me. But I also felt the brotherly love between them, the sense of belonging to something bigger than myself. I felt the bond that held together the clan MacKenzie and knew that now I was part of that bond.

  The second thing I noticed was that, though I ate well, I did not get any less hungry, and the realization came upon me that it was not a hunger coming from my stomach, and not one that could be sated with food.

  "Ella?" MacKenzie looked at me as if he could read my mind, and I was struck again with how handsome he was.

  They were all so perfect for me, so handsome, so brave and strong… So mine. It all made sense to me now, and any lingering embarrassment over the idea of communal love was easily brushed away by feelings that had always been there, but which were now strengthened by blood, by understanding, and by the bond of belonging.

  "I'm not hungry for food."

  My words were blunt and to the point, but at a time like this—we were going to war in the morning—there was no time to do more than speak plainly.

  "I'm hungry for you. For my mates."

  Chapter 19

  I jumped onto my bed excitedly, turned back to face the door, and wondered what the hell I was doing.

  There stood four men. Four magnificent men, to be sure. Four spectacular specimens of masculinity, two of whom I had already slept with, and I had absolutely no qualms about my desire for the other two. I was fully over my concerns about sleeping with all four of them and about loving all four of them. It was the word “together” that was worrying me. Four men together? How did that even work? My body did not seem built to accommodate that number comfortably, and one at a time, while the others sat around and watched, struck me as a little weird. Was it too much to ask that the other three wait outside for an hour while MacKenzie and I got it on, and then someone else could come in? That was not dragon style—although Duncan and Alistair had been happy enough to abandon dragon style in the heat of the moment.

  Four at once.

  The truth was that, if I asked them, then they would—perhaps reluctantly—allow me to be with them one at a time. It might not have been their first choice, but they loved me enough to do whatever I asked of them.

  But I didn't want that. However much the social ideas of my old life clung on inside me, telling me that it was wicked, I wanted them all together. I wanted to sleep with Callum so much I could taste it, but I wanted him with his brothers beside him. That was the need that seared within me, that was the desire I seemed to draw in with each breath. It was thrilling, exciting, arousing, but above all, it felt right. It was how things were meant to be and how I wanted them to be. Which didn't stop me from being a little nervous about it.

  All that said, I couldn't picture it. The sense of rightness was just that; a sense. I had no idea of how this was supposed to go. Was I supposed to take the lead?

  Fortunately, such things came easily to dragons.

  It was MacKenzie who came to me first and I accepted his kiss like someone finding an oasis in the desert. He was still the attractive and dominant man I had met on Friday night, and my hands automatically tugged his shirt out of his pants.

  "I want you," I whispered.

  "You have me," he replied, pulling the shirt over his head. "You have us all."

  I had always assumed MacKenzie to be the oldest of the Dragon Shifters and his body bore that out more than his face. He was clearly as strong as any of them, but the landscape of his impressive musculature was, here and there, creased with scars. MacKenzie had seen life and action so fierce that even dragon magic had not been enough to heal him completely. I let my fingers trace the lines of his scars, touching his history, seeming to bring me still closer to him.

  I saw MacKenzie's hands move to his belt, and I very much wanted to see what was inside his pants, but now my attention was claimed by Callum, gently turning my head to kiss me as he knelt on the bed to my left.

  I hadn't yet had a proper look at him naked and suddenly that felt like a new priority. But then Duncan drew me to the right and I kissed his sweet lips as Callum pulled off his shirt. Alistair had, at some point, replaced MacKenzie in front of me. He kissed me and I saw that he had already dispensed of all clothing, bar his shorts, in the front of which I saw a burgeoning bulge. Unable to resist, I grabbed the waistband and tugged his shorts down his strong thighs, his hard cock swinging free.

  Alistair stepped back to take his shorts fully off and I returned to Callum's lips. He was naked now and I gleefully ran a hand down the hard lines of his torso till I came to a thick, tangled forest of hair. I pulled out of the kiss for a moment to look at the trunk that rose from that forest. Callum was as impressive as his clan brothers, still not fully erect, although my hand clasping the base of his shaft had him leaping that direction. On the broad, mauve head of his member, a single bead of liquid leaked from the flared eye and I dipped my head to kiss it away, relishing the taste on my lips.

  As I began to tug firmly on Callum's growing hardness, a face, coming from behind me, blocked my vision and I recognized MacKenzie's taste on my lips.

  "Just close your eyes and relax."

  It shouldn't have been easy to relax with four naked men hovering over me, but I settled back, Callum still throbbing in my hand, and let them do as they pleased. Eight hands began to undress me, deftly exposing the soft curves of my body. Buttons popped open, revealing my tightly packed bra; my shoes clattered to the floor; down went the zip of my pants and then down went the pants themselves. MacKenzie's lips on mine were replaced with Callum's—moaning softly as I beat my fist along his stiff shaft—then Alistair's and then Duncan's. My blouse was pulled from me and I raised my hands to make things easier, before another pair of over-eager hands—Duncan's, I guessed—burrowed beneath me to unclip my bra and allow my breasts to tumble free. The same hands massaged my breasts, then pressed them together and I felt a man's face buried between them. I gave a skittish whinny as this face moved aside to focus on one nipple, sucking and licking, and another equally hot mouth claimed the other. Hands skidded across my smooth body, mapping every curve, caressing every crease, leaving only one area untouched. Finally, as my frustration began to peak, nimble fingers drew my panties down my long legs. I disposed of them with what I hoped was an elegant kick.

  Now, I opened my eyes a crack to see my men staring down at me, taking in the flushed body they had already brought to the brink of orgasm with lips and hands and teeth and tongues. To see those men staring down at me, with desire and wonder and such heat in their eyes, was indescribable.

  As I closed my eyes again, they fell on me once more, neglecting no part of me. I gasped as fingers slipped inside me, swiftly seeking out sensitive areas, drawing me to yet higher areas of arousal. I had, at some point, released Callum, though I was not sure when I had done it, but now I reached out for whatever I could find. My eyes were screwed shut tight but I found a cock for each hand, squeezing and tugging, trying to pay back in kind the pleasure and frustration they were wringing from me.

  I could not tell who was who or what was whose. A mouth was on mine, kissing me deeply; hands massaged my shoulders and upper chest; two hot mouths still tortured my bullet-hard nipples while the flesh of my breasts oozed between strong, masculine fingers; the fourth tongue danced about my belly button while fingers curled into my pussy, stirring and rotating; and strong hands massaged my legs, slipping down to squeeze my wriggling ass. My whole body was on fire as my beautiful men fought to pleasure me, to make me as happy as they could.

  The tongue in my belly button now slipped down, leaving a wet trail to its final destination. I squealed into the mouth of my unknown kisser and yanked hard on the cocks in my hands as that wicked tongue flicked across my clit. Nothing could stop my orgasm now, but the final straw came from below when a hand slipped beneath my ass and between the cheeks to press a single finger against my bottom hole. There w
as no penetration, only pressure, but that was enough. I howled out my orgasm, my body flexing and spasming on the bed while the men continued their assault of my erogenous zones till I collapsed, weak and sweating, between them.

  I finally opened my eyes on four grinning and hopeful faces. I beamed back at them, exhausted but happy. "Okay, I admit it, dragons have got the right idea."

  I might have been exhausted, but the sight of four erect men around me was already galvanizing me for more. Callum was kneeling between my legs—it had been his talented tongue on my clit and, I suspected, his well-placed finger down below. His cock, straining up tautly, looked fit to burst, like it would crack if it got any harder. Our eyes met, his hot but still questioning. I bit my lip and nodded vigorously, delighted to see his answering smile.

  Not without difficulty, he forced the purpling head of his member down to my slick wetness. I mewed as he nudged against me, and then purred as he entered, stroking easily in, filling me with his rock-hard meat. I drew him down on top of me, loving the feel of his body against mine, and we kissed deeply. The next moment, he pulled away from me, still stroking gently in and out, to kneel between my raised knees. I didn't understand why, at first, but then Duncan descended on my breasts once more, mouth and hands working in unison. MacKenzie kissed me, slow and deep, and I reached for Alistair, as eager to make him part of this ménage as I was to touch his lovely cock again. He returned the favor, dipping his head to kiss my clit, unconcerned by Callum's proximity.

  This was dragon love, and it seemed to be all about me. As Callum drove into me with smooth, deep regularity, the other three took a tour of my body, switching places as they went, getting out of each others’ way where necessary. There was no selfishness here, there was no pride about who was best or biggest. The object was to please me and they worked together to achieve it. I wondered if that was the essence of dragon style—something human's could not hope to emulate—the communal life made this sort of thing quite natural. Perhaps it was not “natural” to me yet, but it was wonderful. One moment, I had MacKenzie's tongue in my mouth, the next, Alistair's cock, and I sucked at both with equal delight. Duncan relinquished my breasts to allow MacKenzie a turn while he put his fingers to good use on my clit. It was less like sex with four men, and more like sex with one incredibly generous, impossibly skilled and eight-armed man.