Dragon Touch (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Ashley Frost

  “From now onward, you are my everything,” Rayse whispered next to her ear. The animalistic way he said those words sounded more like a threat than a declaration of love.

  He licked her ear as his member pulsed and she throbbed with his warmth inside her. Letting out a soft mew, she nodded her head, knowing she would regret whatever was happening later.

  “And you belong only to me.” He lifted her chin with a finger so she gazed directly into his eyes.

  She had to look away. She couldn’t bare the intensity of his being. The knot in her belly wound tighter. She squeezed her thighs around Rayse as hard as she could. The pleasure he was giving her drove her to the edge of insanity.

  Rayse’s thrusts deepened. He was like a force of his own. Through hooded eyelids, she saw his expression. It was that of a predator, and she was his prey. It left her feeling vulnerable, and as bad as that sounded, she didn’t hate it. The vulnerability only added to the intensity he promised. Adrenaline shot through her like lightning as she called out his name. He quickened the pace in which his hips moved. Then he released his seed inside her.

  Her orgasm came at the same time. She shook so hard that she bit down on her own lip, drawing blood. For a moment, this stranger was part of her as one. She’d never felt more connected to another person.

  Then the facade of the fiery fantasy faded away and reality woke her. What had she done? She had given away her virginity, almost in her sleep. This was not how she imagined her first time to be like. She had expected sweet kisses while sharing a bed with a special someone she had taken time to understand and love. This experience went by like a comet—hot and burning, but insignificant and fleeting.

  “Again, love,” his croaked voice demanded.

  The horror of his command snapped her eyes open. Her body betrayed her almost immediately as it started to lust for this man once more.

  Why? She cried in her mind. Why am I feeling this way?

  Rayse didn’t seem to sense her inner turmoil. His hips moved, and his hardened length stroked her intimately. His thrusts wiped her mind clean of its conscience again, and he continuously took her as the night darkened. Soon, all she could understand was his touch, his lips, and the pleasures he forced upon her weakened mind.

  ***

  Constance’s wrist hurt. Why did mama grip it so tightly? She glanced up to her mother, surprised to see the woman’s face to be just as youthful as she last remembered it. This woman wasn’t Karsi. She was her real mother, Crescent Rinehart, the woman who bore her in a brothel, and single-handedly kept her safe from the dangers of Everndale’s outer precincts for eight years.

  “Hide here,” her mother said.

  “I don’t like it! It’s dark.” A childlike, singsong voice left her lips. She tried to bring her hand to her mouth, but she couldn’t. She felt trapped in this body—her own eight-year-old body. She remembered this cupboard. She would never forget how it left an aftertaste of mold and dust on her tongue. This moment still burned strongly in her memories, even after all these years. Why was she reliving it? It wouldn’t remain buried, no matter how hard she tried to force the memory away.

  “Don’t come out, no matter what happens. You will be safe here. Don’t scream. Keep your hand over your mouth and don’t make a sound. If he finds you, he will not be kind to you.”

  “Who, Mama? What about you? Will you be okay?” Those were the exact words she had said before, all those years ago when she was young and didn’t know better. But they were not what she wanted to tell her mother now. She wanted to tell her mother to run, or at the very least, she wanted to say ‘I love you’.

  “I’ll be fine, darling,” her mother said, kissing her forehead. “Take care, and remember, no sounds.”

  She nodded while tears welled in her eyes. Her body shivered with fear as Crescent Rinehart shut the cupboard. The tight squeeze made her nauseous. She wanted to run out and hug her mother, sensing her mother would keep her safe.

  Clinks and clanks echoed from the hallway as her mother frantically rushed to the other side of the room, away from the cupboard. A small slit allowed Constance to see into the room, but not very well. Most of the room was under-lit, making her mother appear mostly as a shadow.

  Not long after, a burly figure loomed at the room’s entrance. Constance couldn’t make out his features, which added to how threatening he looked.

  “Stay away. I owe nothing to you.”

  “You owe everything to me.” The man’s voice sounded like a snake’s. It was vicious and vile. “I tried to give you the world.”

  Crescent laughed, although her fear was easily recognized. “The world? I’m in a brothel.”

  “I was going to take you out of here, but you couldn’t stop yourself from being a filthy whore.”

  The man was on top of her mother in a blink. Constance tried to turn her head away, but her body wouldn’t let her. She was forced to watch the horrific scene a second time.

  “Stop!” Crescent yelled. “I’ll call the officials.”

  “Officials don’t give two fucks about whores like you.”

  As a child, she didn’t think much of this instance. Her mother had taken countless men to her chambers before, and they weren’t the gentlest of human beings. Why would this time be any different? Her child-self didn’t realize her mother would be left completely still on the sheets after, one breast unclothed and her throat slit.

  Each second of re-watching the ordeal ate at her insides.

  She had no choice but to sit idly as her mother fought for her life as the murderer overpowered, bruised, and raped the woman who had taken care of her.

  Then, she was in her mother’s place, and she could see the man’s face.

  Rayse.

  He took her by force. Each time he entered her, it felt as if a thousand needles punctured her skin. The screams were no longer her mother’s but hers. His expression was flat, but in his hand, he held a glinting silver knife.

  “No, no, please!”

  Constance awoke with a jerking motion. She felt her cheeks and discovered she had been crying. Breathing a sigh, she realized it had been a dream—a terrible dream. She was in the present, not in that terrible past she had lived in more than a decade ago. She surveyed her surroundings, noticing she had been thrust from a mental nightmare to a living one. Her clothes were on. Had the dragon put them back on for her? She doubted he’d have the courtesy, but no other explanation stood out.

  Rayse sat in a chair beside the bed, hands clasped together, his body bent over and his elbows resting on his knees. “How… are you?” he asked. Despite her fear, she couldn’t ignore how attractive the man looked. His eyes were dark as midnight, yet burned like coal.

  She inched herself backward. “Fine,” she answered without thinking.

  “I apologize for last night. The mating… it’s hard to control, though I never heard of it being this severe. I’m sure you felt it too.”

  She blushed, recalling how whorish she had acted. Still, an apology didn’t cut it for how he took advantage of her hazardous state of mind. She wasn’t pure anymore. The fact dawned on her slowly. Did it matter, however? The goal of her plans was to wed a dragon anyway. Didn’t such an outcome include intercourse?

  Whatever the case, she couldn’t trust this man. No decent being would bed a woman so forcefully and without her permission. She pressed her fingers to her neck. At least he let her live. He hadn’t slit her throat—yet.

  But there was a gentle look in his eyes that seemed foreign to her. Crescent Rinehart’s visitors never looked at her like that.

  “I haven’t had the chance to ask for your name.”

  “My… name?” Constance frowned. “You didn’t even know my name when last night happened, did you?” she muttered quietly to herself.

  He heard. No human would have been able to hear her but Rayse was a dragon. His jaw tightened. “I already explained. It was the process of the mating. Once a dragon sees his other half, he will begin t
o feel the desire to mate with her.”

  “And you’re calling me your other half?” She wanted to sound resolute, but her question escaped as a whimper. He is your husband now, she reminded herself. The after effects of her nightmare hadn’t faded.

  “Yes.” He seemed so sure of his reply. No hesitation, not even a short pause.

  Her grip on her blanket tightened. “And you can say that without knowing a single thing about me? What if I am sick and broken?”

  “You would be my other half, all the same.”

  How could he say such things in the most casual, self-assured manner? She couldn’t even spot him blinking. She fought against the thought of Rayse being her other half. It was impossible. Her soul mate wouldn’t make her fingers quiver at the sight of him.

  “Constance is my name.”

  He nodded, standing up. “It is a nice name. I approve of it.”

  “Approve?” She raised a brow. “I don’t think names need approval,” she tried to joke. Her bad attempt at trying to lighten the tension Rayse emanated failed. The fear shaking within her hadn’t gone away. Judging his expression, he noticed.

  As he neared, her mouth grew dry with anticipation, but when his hand reached out, she flinched and turned the other way. Those midnight-black eyes haunted her. It was almost like they pierced her soul.

  His hand fell to his side, and he sighed. “I will leave you to yourself this afternoon. I assume that my presence is something you’re not used to. You might need some time away to calm yourself. Exploring the clan will be interesting.”

  She didn’t answer. Little of this situation made sense to her stunned state. Was she at Dragon Keep? How did she get here in the first place? Did he carry her? If he did then she had likely ridden a dragon.

  “And I have matters to attend to,” he said. He opened the door.

  “Wait,” she begged.

  He stopped in his tracks and gave her his attention.

  “How much money are you giving my parents?”

  “Ten gold ingots, as promised.”

  “Ten,” she breathed, taking in the sheer amount of that money. She prayed her father would use it wisely. Their medicinal practices could now stay afloat with little problems.

  “Is that too little?” he asked.

  She sat up. “No! Not at all. It’s plenty.” Thinking about the herbs they could buy made her smile faintly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad it pleases you,” he said, nodding. “Well then, I hope your day goes well. I look forward to tonight, love.” He shut the door behind him and left with the sound of faint footsteps.

  Tonight? Was he going to forcefully take her again after the sun set? She wrapped her arms around herself. She hated remembering what had happened just last night. She had had no control over her actions. Worst of all, she liked how he made her feel. Knowing how easy she had given herself up made her body feel dirty.

  “At least Papa will be okay,” she murmured, consoling herself.

  She sat in the bed for a long while, finding no desire to leave her spot. Only that single spot felt familiar. Rayse’s chambers looked neat and pleasant, luxurious even. The sheets rolled smoothly past her skin. The rugs looked exotic. Just the curtains alone seemed more expensive than her entire cottage back in the village. Despite how luxurious the place appeared, it failed to comfort her. It wasn’t home.

  Karsi and Eduard’s laughter sang in her mind. She missed them already, and five years would have to pass before she could see them. Could she survive the madness of five years living with a dragon?

  The door swinging open startled her, and she searched around her for a weapon as a woman stepped in from the doorway.

  Constance would have still been looking for the weapon if not for the disconcerting appearance of the intruder. She was dressed in a plain brown dress, and her face was ashen. Her bluish hair was matte, dull and fell flat on her skin. She struck Constance as being lifeless and inhuman, despite obviously breathing and walking on her own.

  The woman spoke in a monotonous tone. “I am Nanili, a mishram. Master Everstone has commanded me to be your handmaiden and guide you through the city.”

  “Rayse, you mean?” She frowned. “And what do you mean by ‘mishram’?”

  “If that is how you would like to address him, then yes, Master Everstone is also Rayse. I am a mishram. My kind exist to serve the dragons and dragon wives. The dragons have deemed us perfect servants.”

  She had never heard a person talk so lifelessly. “Your kind is new to me.”

  “We only exist here, in Dragon Keep.”

  She had many questions for the strange woman-like creature, but she didn’t know where to start. She wondered whether she should be asking questions in the first place. Perhaps a wiser thing to do would be to run for the door and grab a knife? Would the creature jump at her and kill her without warning?

  She had no time to decide. Nanili dragged her out of bed, much to her dismay, and forced her to dress.

  As the servant attempted to pull her clothes off, Constance managed to break free. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Master Everstone has commanded me to make sure you leave this house no matter what. I cannot disobey as I answer first to him, then to you.”

  Constance sighed. Was this the start of his torment? She wouldn’t have freedom even when he wasn’t around. She imagined a life of abuse and pain. “Give me that,” she said, snatching the new set of clothes from Nanili. “And leave me be. I would like to change on my own.” Perhaps if she sounded more authoritative, the servant-mishram wouldn’t push her around.

  “Handmaidens commonly dress their masters.”

  “Well, this ‘master’ would like to be left alone to change.”

  Nanili walked to the exit. “As long as you leave the house, then I am ordered to let you do whatever you like.”

  “Thank you,” she grunted, then shut the door on Nanili.

  Why was everyone here trying to get her clothes off? Were the dragon people so perverse?

  ***

  Nanili had cooked for her. It didn’t taste like anything special, much to her surprise. Constance had expected dragon food to be more… exciting. Instead, it was simple bread and butter, along with a chicken drumstick. The cooking lacked any personality, like the mishram herself. Despite the lack of any seasoning whatsoever, Constance enjoyed tasting meat for the first time in a long while.

  “And this is what Master Everstone eats every morning?” She cringed, realizing she had called Rayse “Master.” She didn’t want to live her life with a ‘Master’ instead of a husband. Her birth mother suffered plenty of masters, and they all treated her horribly.

  “The dragons prefer freshly cooked whole animals. They cook the animals with their dragon fire. These ingredients are specially shipped in for the dragon wives.”

  The image of charred whole animals made Constance gag and lose her appetite. She put the half-eaten chicken leg down as sickness crawled through her gut. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like?” Nanili maintained her deadpanned face. The mishram’s expression, or lack thereof, didn’t waver.

  Constance put a hand on her forehead. “Never mind.”

  “I assume your putting your food down suggests you have had your fill?”

  Constance reached for the drumstick—the mental image of dragons burning animals alive flashed through her head once more. “I’ll finish it.” She forced herself to take another bite. She didn’t want to let a delicacy such as meat go to waste.

  “Then we will leave the house after you’re done.”

  Dread sank through her. Nanili could be her only female company for the rest of her life. The servant lacked any emotion. If all women in Dragon Keep were like that, she’d have to hang herself with a noose sooner or later.

  As she left the house, a wonderful surprise greeted her at the doorstep.

  Marzia.

  “What are you doing here?” was her immediate response. She barely pr
ocessed the words before she spoke them. Looking at her friend made tears swell up in her eyes. Maybe she was still back in the village and she’d finally woken up.

  Marzia gripped her shoulder. “Constance, are you alright? You don’t look well.”

  Hugging Marzia, she confessed, “I’m slightly better now that you’re here.”

  She didn’t understand. Back home, she didn’t think much about Marzia’s company. They chatted infrequently, only when Anna and Josephine somehow managed to pull quiet Marzia into their conversations. The girl didn’t talk much. Marzia always seemed to prefer reading than talking. Then, however, a familiar face was far more than she could ask for and she reveled in Marzia’s presence.

  A broad-shouldered man stood tall next to her friend. He wore a full head of silver hair with a mild blue tone to it, which he tied in a braid. The braid was long and draped over his shoulder and down to his waist. A light stubble covered his chin, like the one Rayse had, just that instead of black, it was silver. Constance narrowed her eyes at him, wondering why he was looming over the intimate moment she was sharing with Marzia.

  “Ah, I should introduce the both of you,” Marzia said. Her friend glanced up at the bluish-haired man with a sparkle in her eyes. “He’s my mate.”

  “Fraser,” he said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.” Constance didn’t trust that smile. It was too white and too charismatic. Then again, she found it difficult to trust new people.

  “Mate?” Constance said. “The Offering… I don’t know what happened after I ran. You were chosen?”

  “Oh, you gave me such a scare when you scampered away.” Marzia placed a hand on her shoulder. “I was wondering what had gotten into you. I thought it was dragon fear, but people usually stand still, not run, when instilled by dragon fear. Then Lord Rayse announced he’d chosen you as his mate. It made more sense after that, but I didn’t get an instinct to run after finding Fraser. In fact, I was drawn to him. He announced me as his mate, which surprised me but felt natural anyway. Then they let me say good-bye to my parents and Fraser took me to Dragon Keep.”