She hummed a melody from her dream, while she lay unconscious in the cave. Such a lovely tune. What were the words? She opened her mouth and made up her own. A strange noise wrested her attention from her task, like the sound of wings flapping. But where?
From the corner of her eye, a dark shape zoomed across the darkening eastern sky. An island bird? Recent dinner conversation revealed Gregor chose this island to hunt a quarry bigger than seabirds or misbegotten boar.
She shrugged, and bent to her task. Gurgling water filled the skins. Crouching low, her gaze followed a solitary leaf swept along with the current. The moment it fell over the edge of the steep cliffs, a roar penetrated the early evening air.
She jumped, nearly losing her grip on the skin. Cocking her head, only the crash of the waves echoed off the cliff, but the sound brought forth the memory of perfect lips on her mouth and breast. Heat tingled down her spine even as a chilly breeze flew up and over the cliff face. She pulled her wool shawl tighter around her shoulders, and glanced over the sea toward mainland Scotland.
***
The wind slid along his spiny ridges and ruffled his scales while he dipped and soared over the coast of Staffa. The sun sunk behind clouds on the western horizon, turning the sky blue-black and blood red.
The urge to hunt finally propelled him from his sanctuary, as he pondered why the witch neglected to provide night vision. He flicked his tail at the indignity of hunting at dusk, but such was life. He kept his distance from the hunting party, which was safely ensconced in tents for the night. With his astute sense of smell, their fetid stench filled the air while his nostrils flared in search of Brianna’s fragrance.
“To see her once more would go far in giving me the comfort of a good night’s sleep.” His words came out as a growl. Under his scales, muscles quivered.
He dipped below the cliff face as he swooped and glided, flapping his thin, leathery wings now and then to keep his bulk above the sea. He had filled his belly with two seals, and then plucked a seabird, that had the misfortune to fly too slowly, from the sky. Both filled his mouth with a taste of the salty waves, so he searched out his favorite fountain. With a few flaps, he lunged at the small cascade tumbling from the top of the rock face. He soared below the cliff’s rock-strewn edge, gulping mouthful upon mouthful of fresh water. After filling his belly to cool his throat, he roared with delight.
If only I could discover a way to cool my cock.
After returning his kisses, Brianna banished him to the silence of his own imagination. Then, he recalled Jean’s laughter when he kissed her under a tree.
Had Jean compared him to another?
Possibly Lorn, I should imagine.
Had she played him for a fool? Did she purposely lead him astray to fill Lorn with jealousy?
When Draco kissed Brianna, her sweet body leaned into his chest. Her delicate fingertips caressed his hair and shoulders with honest need and unabashed passion.
His human body, hidden beneath scales and claws, throbbed with a yearning he never dared to feel again. His time with Jean never progressed beyond light kisses. He would spend the remainder of his years alone. Catching an updraft, he flew up and over the cliff.
He froze in midair when the object of his thoughts suddenly screamed.
Brianna actually screamed at him. Her voice filled the night air with her terror. The vibration made his wings falter, and he tumbled end over end toward the sea.
His last conscious thought was guilt at the trembling in her voice and the look of fear plastered on her pale face.
CHAPTER 7
Once the shock of a dragon flying by dissipated, Brianna darted to the edge of the cliff. The winged beast fell from the sky! Shaking off her fear, and steered by her curiosity, she peered over the edge of the crumbling cliff. Foam and bubbles marked the spot where the creature had disappeared beneath the waves.
“Why did it fall? It could have eaten me, instead.” Time passed with no sign of the beast. As darkness fell toward full night, she scampered back to the stream and grabbed the filled skins. The cliff side trail loomed ahead. Though treacherous enough even during the day, she would not fall as long as she took her time.
Except now, I have a dragon to contend with.
She hurried her pace toward the relative safety of the camp. The size of the winged beast meant she and her party would be no contest against its fury.
Should she speak of this encounter? On the one hand, she ought to warn Gregor and the hunters of a possible threat. Then again, would they believe her?
Gregor would. He believed in her ability to see events before they came to pass and used this knowledge to his advantage.
Still, she hesitated to reveal the creature to these men. Could this beast be the owner of the talons that saved her life? Was it in league with Draco? Did both live in the caves? Draco had acted unperturbed when she mentioned the beast.
Their tents loomed ahead. Before she could slide the burden off her shoulder, large hands grasped the filled skins and lifted them away. She turned toward her savior as she rubbed her right shoulder.
“Thank ye—”
A set of meaty lips smothered her response. Brianna pushed against something large, hard, and smelly, but two arms snapped around her, and squeezed. Darkness hid the man’s face, but his intentions were clear.
“Unhand me,” Brianna snapped, once she pulled a few inches away. One sweaty hand grabbed her chin and forced her back to his mouth. Putrid breath amid jagged teeth bruised her lips. She tasted blood. A thick tongue slipped inside, so she bit down, hard.
“Feisty whore,” the nameless bastard growled as he dragged her away from the light.
Away from a chance for safety.
She dug her heels into the dirt, but her slippers slid off and were lost in the empty blackness. Her bare heels scraped furrows in the dry soil as he dragged her beside him. Her skin prickled and a warning buzz tingled down her spine at his audacity. Her fingers clawed his hairy arms as her hatred grew.
“Do no’ treat me thusly.” No matter how fervently she protested her treatment, she feared he held the upper hand. If only Draco’s cave lay close enough so he could hear her, she would scream for his help.
“Ye willna’ thwart my fun again, wench. Gregor canno’ help ye this time.”
Brianna sensed he dragged her toward the stream, north of the tents. She wondered why he bothered with the moonless sky already dark as pitch. Not one star yet pierced the clouds, and fog clogged the summer night air. Lust guided him, she feared. No man, not even a sentry, would see them should he dare throw her to the ground.
She inhaled a deep breath to calm her fear and smelled the scent of wild thyme as they crushed it beneath their feet. The fragrance wafted up among larger clumps of bracken. The vegetation muffled all sound, so she inhaled once more. Before she could fill her lungs to scream, an odd noise brought her assailant to a complete stop.
Snorts and growls filled the night, surrounding them with their eerie song. Thrashing amid low bushes of bird’s foot trefoil, the stench of sweat and fear rolled off her assailant’s body.
“What manner of beast goes there?” Not expecting the creature to own to it, her attacker grunted low and pulled her in the opposite direction.
Whatever caused the noise now stopped them in their tracks with a high-pitched scream. Bone-chilling terror consumed her until she focused on the unknown.
Does the creature mean to attack?
A quick death beat rape. Still, she would not go down without a fight. As she tugged and kicked, her attacker kept his meaty paw tight around her wrist. Angered to distraction, she forced her mind to fill with calm thoughts, as she let him lead her away from the thick bushes toward the stream. Though she had never called forth her gift before, Brianna prayed for a vision. Something signaled the moment was ripe for success.
Sculpted crags, shrouded by wisps of sea mist and black shadows, loomed ahead. Something small, certainly not a dragon, rooted amongst the
bushes. A long, pink snout pushed free.
Brianna laughed.
A wild boar might be a formidable enemy, but her assailant grunted and yanked harder on her bruised wrist.
Does he think to outrun the boar if attacked?
The deserted beach, below the cliff, held no hope of aid this time of night. The sailors, ensconced below decks to enjoy their dinner, might not hear her cries for help.
“Let me go,” she screamed. Brianna jerked against the bastard but doubted her words traveled across the rocky expanse amid the roar of the breakers.
“Ye shall no’ find me tolerant this night, witch. Mayhap I shall stuff yer mouth with sand as I stuff my—”
“Pig!” Brianna dug in her heels and tugged with all her might. Slick with fear-induced sweat, he lost his grip on her tender skin.
Free, she whirled and took off as fast as her tangled skirts would allow. The stair leading to Draco’s cave must be close. With her attention on her goal, she never heard her attacker’s footfalls until burly hands grabbed her around the waist. She kicked and screamed, but he soon trapped her against his chest.
“Put me down, ye dog. Ye stink worse than the pig that frightened ye, ye coward.”
“Yield, witch!”
“Let her go.”
Suddenly released, Brianna toppled forward and twisted in a futile attempt to gain her balance. She landed in an undignified bundle of skirts on the hard ground. Sounds of a struggle filled her ears as she rolled away, but before she found enough momentum to distance her person from the melee, all went quiet.
A dark shape loomed between her and safety. She grabbed up her skirts and kicked out with all her might. The day’s horrors, dangers, hard work, injured fingers, and sore feet boiled up into one big surge of hatred of all men.
“Easy, lass, ‘tis me. Gregor.”
“Thank the Lord.” Her guardian had saved her from a dangerous situation. She had no idea of her assailant’s identity, and she did not care. Darkness enshrouded everything as the comforting warmth of Gregor’s outstretched hand clasped her fingers.
“I am sorry he harmed ye. He shall no’ touch ye again. I assume his attention ‘twas no’ mutual?”
“Ye assume right, my laird. Who be the man who pressed his advances on me?”
“Ranald MacLean. I caught sight of him nosing around the kitchen. Cook came to me to complain when the man put his filthy fingers where they were no’ wanted—”
“Did he harm her?” Alarm slid through Brianna, and she bolted toward the kitchen flap.
“Slow yer steps, Brianna. Cook can handle any man she meets. She only wanted the wretch away from her foodstuffs.”
“Aye, she is quite protective of her kitchen. The man called me witch. Does he know of my gift? If he tells others—”
“Have no fear, lass. I believe he used the phrase in anger, no’ knowledge. I ne’er suspected he would sink so low as to harm what ‘tis mine. Rievers have diminished his cattle herd. Since the thieves escaped, he is heavy into his cups each night. Sickness has kept his crofters from bringing in enough hay, oats, and barley to last the winter. He hunts with us to feed his family, yet I fear his mind has blackened beyond redemption.”
“I have suffered his wrath this night.”
“Have no fear. I shall keep my eye on the man. He is obsessed about the island’s mythical creature. He believes the beast hides an enormous treasure. Should he find it, all his troubles will float away on the next tide.”
“I wish he had found his bed. Did ye no’ warn him to keep his distance?”
“Aye, lass. But, ye are bonnie and some men canno’ resist a pretty face.”
“E’en when the lass does no’ want their attention?”
He did not answer. At the kitchen entrance, he spoke softly and said, “When he slipped outside, I followed to have a talk with the man. To see his arms wrapped around ye…”
Brianna heard Gregor’s sigh. She reached out, clasped his large hand, and gave it a small squeeze.
“I am sorry I brought ye along, lass. An isolated island full of armed men, with no one to shield ye from their unwanted attention, is no place for ye.”
“I have ye to keep me safe.”
And Draco.
She felt his presence. Gregor led her to the tent, and they slipped inside. The heat of the kitchen slapped her in the face. Memories of both Ranald’s unwanted kisses and her earlier encounter with a dragon made her pause. When Cook glanced toward the door, Brianna forced a smile, but realized Cook stared past her.
At Gregor? Hmm.
“Here is yer water. May I retire?” Brianna stared at Cook until the woman trained her attention back her way.
“Aye, lass, but I expect ye to rise early. The men folk will again break their fast before the sun rises. I assume we shall no’ see the likes of Nia ‘til the men leave for their sport.”
Both women chuckled and ignored Gregor, who mumbled as he stalked toward the main hall. His booming voice ordered the men to their beds. Nia scooted by, in the company of a young hunter. Her wild mess of black hair draped the low bodice of her frock.
Brianna bid Cook a good night and retreated to the quiet solitude of her tent. She undressed, and then finger-brushed dirt and twigs from her hair. Ranald’s attack did not affect her as much as did images of the dragon as he scared a scream from her lips before disappearing beneath the waves.
***
Draco lay upon the beach, coughing and sputtering. Choking on seawater was humiliating. Under an emerging halo of stars, he contemplated his life. In truth, he wondered why he could not find the strength to end it.
“Ye do no’ have the power to end yer useless life ‘til I bid it.”
The voice from his nightmares intruded on his solitude, screeching over the pleasant chirping of birds and crickets.
“No’ now, Agatah. ‘Tis been a day of hellfire and pain.” Both arms flopped above his head into the damp sand as he stretched. Chilled from his inadvertent swim, he let the evening breeze dry his hair and leather breeches while he contemplated how to handle Brianna.
When she had spotted a dragon, she screamed like a child revisiting a nightmare. He recalled her fear even now, while her luscious scent filled him with desire. Squirming with discomfort, he spread his leather-covered thighs. His stomach clenched, and his swelling cock twitched. He wished for the change, but the dragon would not come. It rarely heeded his wishes. As he pictured Brianna’s pale skin, red-gold hair, and eyes the color of steeped chamomile tea, a different image flashed.
“Jean’s eyes were the same color.”
“Do no’ speak her name!” Thunder boomed, and the sky split with the brilliance of several deadly lightning bolts. Draco sat up, shifting to hide the bulge in his breeches, before answering.
“My pardon, Agatah. No disrespect intended. Yer daughter ‘twas a special young lad—”
“Who is no longer here among the living due to yer cowardice!”
Draco jumped to his feet, but held his tongue. Responding to her lies was always a useless endeavor. The witch blamed him for their deaths and, with no way to prove his innocence, she would continue her tirade long into the night. He had to find a way to break the curse before he went mad.
If I do no’ find a way, and soon, I will have no chance with the woman from the mainland.
“No woman will lay with ye once she discovers the monster inside.”
He ought to remember she could read his mind. This was how he came to own the same gift, cursed to hear people’s thoughts of horror at his image. Tired of her threats and taunts, Draco sped down the beach toward home. A sprinkle of starlight lit his way.
Until today, his only wish was to join his mother in the enviable peace of death. Now, he yearned to escape the dragon’s curse because he very much wanted to live.
Finally alone, he trudged along the beach and slipped inside his cavernous home. A flurry of leathery wings flapped high above his head as nocturnal creatures ventured out into th
e night. An image filled his vision. Brianna, as she stood on the cliff under the last golden beams of the dying sun.
Right before she stared straight at me and screamed.
Draco muttered a curse as he kicked a pebble from his path. The cavern walls eerie black stone glistened with iridescent light where waves had deposited little mysteries of the deep. He climbed easily into his hole. Coals glowed in the fire pit, but he lacked the strength or the will to build up the fire.
“Why bother. I can start fire with my breath anytime I so desire.” With a strained laugh, he collapsed onto his bed. His body stiffened with an immediate swell of desire.
“Lord, her scent is everywhere.” His cock pressed against his breeches until the pain made him release his manhood from its leather enclosure. He folded one arm behind his neck, cradling his head above the seal pelt and heather-filled pallet. Draco’s other hand latched onto the swollen flesh of his erection. Pleasure tinged with pain followed the slow, steady strokes. What might it feel like to lower his body and hover above her pale flesh as he filled her with his love?
“Love? Ne’er again!” he cried as he climaxed. The exquisite pleasure brought forth a roar, which strained his throat. One tear escaped as the lonely wail echoed throughout the massive cavern.
CHAPTER 8
Rough, calloused fingers latched onto Brianna’s forearm the moment she reached for an empty trencher. The sun would soon rise, but the hunting party broke their fast early before marching off. The morning chill matched the icy blood suddenly flowing through her veins.
“Verra’ pretty.”
Ranald’s low, gravelly voice filled her mouth with a bitter taste. The stench of strong ale flooded his breath and assaulted her nose while his dirty fingernails dug into her uncovered flesh.
She stood stock-still, and did not respond. He wanted her to pull away or cry out. Certain men enjoyed terrorizing women. She had listened to the rumors.
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