Dragon's Pleasure (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 3)

by Isadora Montrose

  He was already warmed from being in the truck, and the exertion soon warmed him more. Inside his parka and poncho he began to sweat. He pulled his watch cap and muddy gloves off and tucked them into a pocket and kept going with just the hood of his poncho to keep the rain off. Before long he was back on the gravel road, trudging along in the darkness with only his flashlight to guide him.

  The icy rain kept falling. Now when it landed on the trees it froze. Zeke felt clammy under his clothes and his hands were chilled. He replaced his hat and gloves and kept following the road down until it came to a crossroads. One track lead down and three up.

  Downhill was civilization. That was the rule. But the road before him was waist high in mud. The deep sides that had been cut through the hill acted as banks, and had literally turned the road into a river. If he tried to navigate that, big as he was, he would be swept away like the trees and his truck. He didn’t think he could forge his own path downhill — not in these conditions.

  Uphill led to a Ranger Station. Said so on the signpost. One point five miles. Piece of cake. He’d be there in no time. Cheered by the thought of the station, Zeke abandoned the road and moved briskly off following the indicated path.

  He knew he was too wet and sweaty to lollygag. If he stopped, he would start to cool off and his clothes would freeze to his skin. The temperature was plummeting. Now with each step, the ice cracked on the surface before his boots hit the mud underneath.

  His boots were still dry. And he was wearing good army issue wool socks. He kept his flashlight out so he could navigate in the inky darkness. Very soon he encountered another mass of trees and mud blocking the path to the Ranger Station. This pile was slowly moving and he judged it too unstable to clamber over. Better to go uphill through the trees and circumvent this gooey, flowing muddle of timber and rocks.

  Without warning the ground shifted under his feet. He lost his balance and landed sideways in the mud. He swore heartily. His poncho kept the worst off, but on one side his pants soaked clean through to his skin. Water seeped in the top of his boots. Now when he walked, he squelched. He was cold and shivering in no time. Nothing for it, but to carry on as long as he could.

  It was a disappointment when he got to the Ranger Station. Total cluster fuck. It had long since been abandoned. Vandals or souvenir takers had partially dismantled what remained of the log structure. It was not even a shed anymore. The roof was pierced by saplings, and what must once have been a wooden floor was now a pond. His flashlight picked out some eye shine. Raccoons by the golden color.

  Again he thought about taking bear. But, even if he resisted the temptation to go feral, when he wandered into habitation and resumed his human form, he would be a big naked scandal. Hard to explain. Impossible to conceal. And someplace on the mountainside there would be a pile of army issue clothes labeled Bascom to make folks wonder.

  If the army had thought PTSD meant he was a mental case now, arriving muddy and naked someplace would only confirm he was cracked. He wasn’t going to have that on his fucking record. He’d sooner die.

  So he’d have to deal with this new setback with his hard learned survival skills and brute force. The old fashioned Ranger way. Energized by this decision, Zeke switched off his light and let his eyes adapt to the darkness. The rain had long since changed to sleet. Now it began to be fat, wet flakes. Beautiful and deadly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Discovering right before the holidays that your job was slated to disappear was a heck of a blow. And combined with the restlessness and longing Jenna had been feeling lately, it was enough to make her despondent. Still, she had tried to put such melancholy thoughts aside for Christmas week.

  But talking to her mom had got Jen thinking about how close she was to unemployment and how far she was from fulfilling her longing for a family. Her peaceful evening seemed shattered by her glum mood. This would never do. She had a lot to be grateful for.

  Jenna looked around her warm and tidy cabin and thought how much she loved living in it. It wasn’t very big, and she didn’t really own it, but it suited her perfectly. In fact Yakima Ridge suited her perfectly.

  She had lived in Portland while she was going to nursing school, but every minute away from the mountains had been torture. When she had returned from the city a qualified nurse practitioner, she had resolved never to leave her mountains again.

  Bascoms had been living in these green and mossy woods since before they were called Bascoms. Even though there were no mates for them here, and making a living was pretty much a scramble, no one thought it was weird when her male cousins decided to build houses and stick around on the Ridge. As a matter of course, the boys all got their clan land grants when they turned twenty-one.

  She had been twenty-two when she asked her clan for land to build a house. You’d have thought she’d asked for the moon and a sterling silver spoon to eat it with. There had been a huge fuss, which all boiled down to, “You’re going to marry up and move away, and then what?” Clearly, clan land was for men only.

  Probably she should have pushed those sexist bearshifters a lot harder, but when her cousin Joey Benoit had said she could have a slice of his land to build a house, she had grabbed it thankfully. The whole clan had been delighted with this solution, and they had all happily turned out to put up her house and put in her access road.

  Her log cabin was just a little two bedroom house, with a kitchen and bathroom and one open living area, but it was nestled right in the heart of the forest. She could breathe here. She had a spring-fed well, and a septic tank, and she was hooked up to the grid so she had power.

  Her clan had organized their own internet service for their part of the Ridge and linked her up. Of course, bad weather could make that patchy, but the internet was a luxury not a true necessity. She also had a couple of generators, just in case the power went as it had this week, and a couple of faces of cord wood. Her pantry was stocked to the ceiling. Her freezer was full. She was prepared for whatever nature threw at her.

  Her cell phone usually kept her connected to her family and her patients. And for emergencies she could always take bear. But tonight, she would stick an LED lantern in the window over her front door, just in case she lost phone service. There had been lots of nights that some desperate father or granddaddy had gone up mountain for the midwife. Her lantern would make sure a seeker found her.

  Jen looked around at her comfy couch and recliner, at her beautiful oak table and chairs. Lenny and Joey Benoit had made those for her when she moved in. And fitted out her kitchen and sewing room. They were the best of cousins.

  It was a thousand pities that they were too closely related to her to be anything but pals. They were good men — strong, manly, loyal. Handsome, dependable and good tempered. But you couldn’t marry a guy who smelled like your own brothers. She was glad Len and Joe had found good mates in Portland. She had danced at Lenny’s wedding and was looking forward to dancing at Joey’s, and to helping birth their babies in due course.

  She rubbed her own belly. Would she ever have a litter of cubs of her own? Likely not, she thought sadly. She had been to Portland and she hated it. She wasn’t going mate hunting in Portland as Len and Joe had done. Nor to any other city.

  The whole time she was studying, she couldn’t catch her breath. The doctor had diagnosed asthma. Uncle Pierre had called it homesickness. And sure enough, the minute she settled here in the woods, all her symptoms disappeared.

  Lately, she had had a powerful hankering for her own child. She wanted to hold her baby to her breast. She wanted to chase a toddler. Jenna sighed. First she needed a mate. But here on the Ridge where there were plenty of bears, there were none who weren’t kin.

  In nursing school, there had been only a handful of guys. And not one of them had taken her fancy. She had returned to Yakima Ridge the virgin she had left it, because she wasn’t hooking up just as an experiment. And in eleven years her sex life hadn’t varied. And didn’t seem likely to. There were p
recious few incomers to the Ridge these days. It looked to be her and Mr. Imaginary forever more.

  Of course, one of her jobs was passing out birth control and advising couples who wanted to conceive. Or at any rate, she had been taught about that at school, and to keep her accreditation as a nurse practitioner and midwife, she had to keep up her studies. Thank goodness for virtual education.

  So she knew all about sex and all about artificial insemination. Artificial insemination was often ineffective in infertile women. But in a fertile woman whose only bar was the lack of a partner it worked just dandy. But did she want to be impregnated by some stranger’s sperm? And how the devil would she pay for AI? Especially if she lost her regular income when the clinic closed.

  Nevertheless, the thought of artificial insemination was tantalizing. Maybe she should go to one of those shifter bars in the city when she was ripe and have a fling — AI on the cheap as it were. Shifters didn’t get STIs so that was one thing she didn’t have to worry about. But what kind of bear would have sex with a fertile female — and a bear nose couldn’t miss that — and fill her with cub and take off? Not the kind whose genes she wanted to mix with hers, thanks just the same.

  Her cousins Ash and Gideon Bascom had told her about some websites they had been on to look for mates. Their big handsome faces had been bright red as they assured her that you wouldn’t find any respectable bears there — and not even to look. Of course, Gideon and Ash were prudish — but so was she really. Knowing all about sex didn’t make her less prim.

  Cousin Will Enright was rumored to have found his bride on some dating website. But likely that was just a tall tale or one of his jokes. Martha Enright was Hannah’s sister, so Will had probably met his wife through Hannah. But if the website story were true, that would be a possibility.

  Only Martha lived in Wisconsin, so nice as she seemed, she wasn’t available for girlish chitchat. Certainly, during Hannah’s delivery there had been no opportunity to talk. And three days ago, Martha and Will had taken advantage of a break in the weather to fly home.

  That left the mating frenzy at the Sanctuary. For years, she had heard giggles and snickers when that was mentioned. But likely it was just a myth. A retreat where shifters gathered annually for a mating orgy. How likely was that? It was beyond improbable. Plus, when push came to shove, the idea of losing her virginity at an orgy was frankly nauseating.

  Jenna knew, in her heart of hearts, that she had picked spinsterhood and celibacy. She would be an aunt but not a mother. And if she lost her present job, she would have to turn her hand to something other than nursing and midwifery in order to stay on the Ridge and live in the forest. Both thoughts depressed her. Time to get busy.

  She puttered around her kitchen straightening up and setting her breakfast oatmeal to cook. A covered pot with steel cut oats was soon on top of her wood stove. The stick of cinnamon she had added scented the air pleasantly. She pulled a package of meat out of the freezer to thaw for tomorrow’s stew. She checked the generator and headed for her bedroom.

  Jen braided her long mass of dark curls into a thick braid that hung down her back to her waist. She pulled her favorite flannel nightgown off the hook and buttoned herself into its comforting folds. Her fluffy sheepskin moccasins kept her feet off the chilly hardwood.

  Mama’s Christmas gift was still in its bag. She had tried it on of course and admired it, but she hadn’t worn it. Too busy. But now she pulled the soft, deep blue robe out and slipped it on. The puffy quilted down fabric was a lovely color, and the robe fit perfectly. It was a practical garment for a woman who heated with a wood stove.

  Mama had made it herself, so of course it fit perfectly. Jen was nearly six feet tall in her stocking feet and full figured. It was hard to buy clothes off the rack. But Mama knew what suited her. The deep blue complemented Jen’s dark hair and blue eyes and it came right down to her ankles. And the sleeves ended six inches above her wrists so she could do things in it.

  The robe cinched in at the waist emphasizing its narrowness in comparison with the generous bosom and hips above and below. The shoulder seams ended at her shoulders and the sleeves were neither tight nor loose. The pretty robe restored her spirits. She was a lucky woman to have a loving mother who was a capable seamstress.

  Jen turned on some soft music and settled in her recliner with her knitting. She was working on wool socks for Matt. Both he and Nick had huge feet and wore out their military issue socks in no time. She had taken to knitting them both a couple of pairs every month. They were always grateful, but they always asked for more. She had accused her brothers of eating her socks when they ran out of K-rations, but she suspected that they gave them to their buddies.

  This pair was going to be khaki colored. Such a dull color, but the soft merino yarn was a pleasure to hold. And the pattern was so simple that she wouldn’t have to think about it until she got to the foot, which was still a long way away. Meanwhile Brahms soothed her and took her away to a peaceful place.

  She looked around at her little home and wondered if it would really be improved by a great, hairy, messy boar bear. Her eye fell on her daddy’s bronze star which was framed with his citation and held pride of place on one wall. A reminder of her vow never to marry a soldier. Which was a strange vow for a woman who thought a man who hadn’t done his military service wasn’t much of a man, and who spent her spare time knitting comforts for the troops.

  Mind, she never thought that her cousins Lenny and Asher weren’t manly. But of course they were members of the French Town volunteer fire brigade and fought forest fires all summer long, risking their lives to keep the forest and its inhabitants safe. And not that she had any suitors to reject — servicemen or not. But still, soldiers made chancy mates. Maybe she was better off alone.

  What she wanted was a mate who would be around for their babies, not off getting himself killed in foreign parts. A nice, sweet-tempered, good-hearted bear with no taste for adventure. A dependable homebody who would always be there for her. She laughed at herself. Her dream man sounded more like a lapdog than a bear.

  Long before midnight, Jen tucked Matt’s socks into their little bag. She hung her knitting bag neatly on the hook by her chair, tidied away her glass and plate, and made sure the LED lantern over her front door was shining at full power. She stirred her oatmeal and checked that the stove would last until morning.

  Her sleigh bed was inviting and she got into it with real gratitude. She was fast asleep under the down comforter as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Standing beside the raccoon condo, with heavy wet snow limiting visibility, Zeke thought he saw a steady light glowing in the darkness, someplace uphill. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He blinked and tried to focus. Sure looked like a light. He’d head to that. Hope it was some hunter’s cabin or traveler’s refuge where he could warm up and ride out this snow storm.

  The mud underfoot had started to harden in the cold, and under his layers his skin cooled more, even though he was moving steadily. The temperature kept dropping. The snow must have started earlier up here. Already it lay piled a foot high in places. It began to be harder going.

  With each step he fell through the snow to the wet mud below. Each time he set a foot down, he went down past the top of his high laced boots and damp entered the top. But he was a strong man, inured to hardship, and he fought his way uphill, ignoring the fact that he could no longer feel his feet.

  He reached for his canteen, but it was no longer hanging against his back. Absently he wondered where it had got to, but his mind wouldn’t stay focused and he forgot about it almost at once. He concentrated on ascending the slope, one dogged footstep after another.

  It took a long time to reach the crest of the hill. He paused for breath and flashed his light around. The trees gave way to brush. Under snow cover a flat trail led through this scrub land. Could be an access road. He turned his light off and let his eyes adjust again.

  H
e ignored the fine tremor in his body. Shivering was just the body’s way of trying to get warm. Nothing to be done about it. Dangerous was when you stopped shivering. He had to keep moving or he would fall asleep never to wake again. He reminded himself again of his promise to Laura and kept on plodding.

  As his eyes adapted to full darkness, the light he was heading towards seemed brighter. He thought it was closer now. The snow covered track lay at an angle to the light but he followed it anyway, hoping it would eventually turn towards the light.

  His footing was easier on this road. But now he that he had left the canopy of the forest, the snow was almost impossible to avoid or see through. And the slush he was walking on was covered by a hardened layer. The temperature was dropping still further.

  When the road curved uphill he again turned off his flashlight and took a breather. He noticed absently that he was no longer feeling cold. Dimly he knew that was a bad sign, but he no longer cared. He saw the light in the distance and remembered that was his goal. He was going to find that light. That was his mission and he was by damn going to complete it.

  The light was near enough now that he could see it even with his flashlight on. Lifting his feet was hard and getting harder. Lie down. Just for a minute, urged his brain. Complete your mission, barked some competing circuits. He kept going. He didn’t notice when he dropped his flashlight. But the light was close enough now that he could make out that it was above a door.

  It hovered above a door to a small log cabin. In the snow, Zeke couldn’t see where the walls stopped, so the cabin looked like an optical illusion. A delusion created by his exhaustion. He raised his fists and thumped as hard as his numbed hands could. Hardwood reverberated, so it was no mirage, but no one came. He kept up the pounding. This was his job. His final mission.