Dragongrove_Mated to the Dragon King

by Imogen Sera

  “What?” Ingrid asked, shocked. “How did you know?”

  “I asked.”

  “You just asked him?” Ingrid was incredulous.

  “I did. It was pretty obvious, Ing. And I told you so, by the way.”

  “Have you seen him much?” Ingrid asked after a long pause.

  Lily grinned. “We’re good friends now. If you weren’t continually skipping meals you’d have seen him laughing with John and me at dinner.”

  “How is he?” Ingrid asked, surprised.

  “Miserable, but not as miserable as you because he’s not hiding from the world,” Lily responded. “I think maybe he feels used.”

  Ingrid’s heart fell. “I’m an ass.”

  “Ingrid,” Lily began, “you’re not an ass. You’re practical, and you’re stubborn, and you’re a horrible control freak, but you’re not an ass.”

  Ingrid looked at her and sniffed with a small smile, wiping unshed tears from her eyes.

  “You’re so fucked up, Ingrid, because you lost everyone. But we all did, and we’re all fucked up in different ways. We just have to keep our own particular brand in mind.”

  Ingrid mused over that thought. She kept feeling the awful dread telling her to run far, far away from Helias. After he’d admitted to being a dragon it had made sense, and she’d hoped that her knowing what he was would stop it. It had been right there that morning though, and worse than it had ever been. It was all she had been able to do to get out of the room without reeling or vomiting.

  But maybe it had nothing to do with Helias being near, besides the fact that when he was near she couldn’t control her feelings. Maybe what she feared wasn’t him, dragon or not; what she feared was her attachment to him.

  He had been sweet and gentle and wonderful; it was almost domestic. No wonder she had fled. Guilt flooded through her. He clearly cared for her and she had bolted every time he had tried to express it.

  “How do you always know what I need to hear?” Ingrid asked, crossing the room to where her friend was seated in front of the mirror and resting her chin on her shoulder.

  “It’s a gift,” Lily smirked at her. “You should talk to him.”

  Ingrid nodded absently and looked at them both in the mirror. Lily was lovely; full cheeks and bright eyes and glowing skin. Ingrid looked at her own pallid complexion, her sunken gaze, the tightness of her skin stretched over her face. She looked away from herself and kissed her beautiful friend on the cheek. “You’re right,” she agreed, and strode out of the room, determined.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ingrid awoke to her name. She felt her neck aching and wondered why, before she opened her eyes and realized that she had fallen asleep in the library.

  Helias stood in front of her; tall, imposing, arms crossed.

  She was frightened. She wanted to ask for his forgiveness, but she certainly didn’t deserve it. She had run from him and completely avoided him for a week, and all that after begging him to fuck her.

  She stared at him for a moment, and he stared back, his expression unchanging.

  And then, suddenly, she was crying. Her frustration and grief and anxiety and anger were pouring out of her in great crashing waves of sobs and hiccups. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried in front of anyone, but then she remembered her mother holding her and stroking her hair while she cried when she was very small, and she sobbed harder for her mother who she desperately needed, and because Helias was now kneeling in front of her and wrapping his arms around her. She cried because she didn’t deserve his forgiveness or his kindness, and then she cried harder because she did deserve forgiveness and kindness and love. She couldn’t catch her breath and she couldn’t handle the feelings pouring out of her, so she clung to him and tried to focus on his slowly rising and falling chest.

  Helias was murmuring sweet words about forgiveness against her hair, and she wasn’t sure why until she realized she’d been hiccuping “I’m sorry,” at him over and over for the last five minutes. She quieted slowly, still clinging to him, still focusing on his slow and steady breathing.

  Eventually she slumped against his shoulder, drained and exhausted. “You’re too good,” she whispered against his neck, and he shook his head and silently lifted her as he stood.

  “Bed?” he questioned, and she nodded her agreement. He carried her up to her room and deposited her on her bed gently before tucking her under the covers.

  “Stay,” she mumbled quietly, her heavy eyes pleading.

  “Of course,” he whispered. He slipped in next to her and wound his arms around her. The last thing she was aware of was contentment draping over her and a warm sensation blossoming in her chest.

  . . . . .

  Helias held Ingrid to him as she slept, terrified that when she woke she would again run from him. Sleep would not come for him, so he spent the night memorizing her. He lifted her hair from her neck to inhale her intoxicating scent, once, then again. The weight of her head on his arm, the way her soft hair tickled his jaw, the soft and slow rise of her chest against him; her delectable pink lips, her dark lashes sweeping her cheeks, her strong chin that fit her so well; all was stored away in his mind. He dearly wished this would not be the last time he would hold her, but he wanted to be prepared.

  She was precious to him. He wanted to keep her safe, and while he was more than capable of protecting her from external forces he was helpless against her inner battles. Seeing her break down so violently had frightened him, but he was almost glad for it. She struggled to express emotions, but she had certainly poured them out tonight. As troubling as it had been to see, maybe it was a strange kind of progress.

  He could have spent an eternity embracing her, listening to her even breathing and soft sighs, but the night passed more quickly than he wished it to. When the bedroom was awash in the soft light of dawn she began to stretch, then blinked a few times before focusing on him. He was frozen, staring into the blue depths of her eyes. He waited for her to pull away from him, or to cry, or to ask him to leave; instead, she lifted his hand with hers and placed a soft kiss on his palm. His heart felt like bursting, and he squeezed her gently.

  She looked up at him again. “I did a lot of thinking yesterday,” she began, hesitantly, “and I talked to Lily, who is always good at helping me understand myself.”

  She paused, watching for his reaction, and he nodded.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at putting my thoughts or feelings into words. I struggle to let myself feel things, which has made my life easier so far, but probably isn’t the healthiest way to deal with emotions,” she said, smiling to herself.

  He nodded, his face serious.

  Her expression grew serious again. “But since I’ve met you it’s been... difficult, because I feel so much for you,” she said, cheeks coloring but not looking away. “I think about you every day. I dream of you every night. I need you all the time.”

  Her heart was thundering against his chest, and he marveled at the sensation.

  “Helias,” she said, a bewildered look in her eyes, “I think I love you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Tell me about your brothers,” Ingrid asked, sitting next to Helias on the couch in the library.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked, looking up from the book in his lap.

  “I don’t know. What are they like? Will they eat anyone here?”

  He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Tarquin might try, but I won’t let him.”

  “I thought you said he was your favorite?”

  “He is. We’re very different, but I think he’s good for me,” he said, raising a meaningful eyebrow at her.

  She smiled at that. All morning he had repeatedly told her how grateful he was that she was close with Lily. “Hmm,” she responded, and wound her arm around his and pressed a kiss against his hard shoulder. “Is he older and wiser than you?”

  “He’s probably the wisest, but I’m the eldest.”
r />   She pressed her lips together. How had she not known that?

  “Are you much older?”

  “A few days,” he shrugged.

  “How is that possible? Do you have different mothers? Or-”

  “Eggs,” he said, interrupting her.

  “Hmm,” she said again. He was finally talking about himself, and she was constantly reminded how very different their lives were.

  “Tarquin is the youngest of us.”

  “And he eats people,” she interjected.

  Helias grinned at her. “He’s always been the most serious.” He paused, thoughtfully. “He was the only one of us who had found his mate. I’m worried about how he is now, so long after losing her.”

  “What do you mean ‘he found his mate’?” Ingrid asked, her interest piqued.

  “Oh right, silly humans,” he said, shooting her a impish look. “You know, fated companions, one soul in two bodies?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said flatly. “Do you mean like marriage?”

  He shook his head. “The fates decide at birth, your choices have nothing to do with it.”

  Ingrid shuddered. “That sounds awful.”

  He looked at her for a long time, and then pulled her against him and kissed the side of her head.

  She savored his warmth against her, but something was bugging her. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “If it’s decided at birth then you must have had a mate that you never met before she died,” she said, after a moment.

  He rested his chin on her head. “Yes. I’ve thought of that often.”

  She clung to his arm that was around her, squeezing it affectionately. She was sad for him, and although she would never admit it, a tiny, horrible, selfish part of her was grateful that his mate was dead.

  . . . . .

  A chilly breeze blew across Ingrid’s bare nipples as she slowly lowered herself on Helias’s massive, throbbing cock. She had learned quickly how to drive him crazy, and she loved torturing him by taking charge and going slowly. He jerked his hips then, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her, and she gasped before regaining her composure and playfully chastising him.

  She shivered violently then as another gust of wind blew over her, and Helias was immediately withdrawing from her, attentively looking her over, asking what was wrong. She giggled and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Just cold,” she grinned.

  He breathed out heavily, looking relieved, and smiled at her. He retrieved his cloak from next to him, spread it on the forest floor and flipped Ingrid onto it. He covered her with his hard, warm body, his cock pressed against the junction of her thighs.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Mmm, much,” she smiled, stroking her hand through his hair, but she was troubled by his reaction.

  She pushed the thought from her mind as he entered her in one long, hard thrust. She moaned and gripped his back, and then his ass, squirming and writhing to take more of him. He filled her, stretching her, pulsing, deliciously rubbing every part of her. He moved then, not slowly as he usually did, but quickly and oh, so hard. Her breath caught in her throat, and as he filled her over and over again, unrelenting, she hurtled over the edge of her release.

  She was moaned his name. Her hips were shaking, her body burning, her thighs clenched around his strong legs, and still he didn’t slow. He was relentless, exquisite in his pursuit; loving her, fucking her, claiming her. He was holding her to him, desperately close, and the other hand was between her legs, stroking her clit in time with his thrusts. She was already unraveling a second time, and as she came again he did also, groaning her name, his whole body shuddering over her.

  He rolled off of her after a minute, glistening and gorgeous, and Ingrid was struck by how much she adored him. Physically he was everything she could ever want, of course, but she liked to imagine that she would feel the same way no matter what he looked like. He was so much more though; warm and kind and thoughtful and patient. She rolled on her side to face him, propped herself up on her elbow, and tugged his cloak around her.

  “You know I’m not going to run again, right?” she asked, and he looked at her in surprise.

  She knew it had been bothering him. Every time she expressed anything other than total contentment, he was there, trying to fix it, agitated and restless. He was clearly worried that she was going to decide that she wanted to be alone, and it was breaking her heart to witness.

  He paused for a long time, looking at her, and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “I guess I don’t know that, no,” he said.

  “Well I’m not,” she said, defiantly. “I’m happy right now. I’m so happy with you. I hadn’t ever imagined a happiness like this.”

  His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to worry all the time,” she continued. “I’m not going anywhere. Helias, I love you.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her head, and she melted into his touch, wishing he would respond.

  “Ingrid,” he began after a moment, “you can’t promise that.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he hushed her gently.

  “Our lives are very different,” he continued. “I’m so grateful that mine has brought me to you, but I don’t know what happens after this. There may be things that you feel you have no choice but to run from.”

  She shuddered at that, and pulled his cloak closer around her.

  “I can’t ask you to promise to never run,” he said, looking at her seriously. “Not when there’s so much to run from.”

  She kissed him then, fiercely and desperately. He kissed her back passionately, and a moment later pulled away from her. He cupped her face in his large hands, and kissed the tip of her nose softly. “I love you, Ingrid.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They spent their stolen afternoon in the dappled sunlight of the forest. Helias had brought books, of course, and while he read she wandered around her childhood playground. She tossed a pine cone in the stream and watched as it was caught in a tiny whirlpool and spun around wildly. She looked over at her love as he was hunched over his book, transferring notes onto his paper. He was lovely, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, his broad back shifting under his thin shirt, his pen thoughtfully pressed to his mouth as he reread a passage over and over, searching for meaning.

  She hadn’t known contentment like this since before the plague. She knew she had so many things to worry about, but right now she couldn’t even bring herself to care.

  She was struck with an idea, and came and sat next to him.

  “I want to see you,” she said, and he looked surprised but reached to remove his shirt. She giggled at that and stopped him. “I mean I want to see you. The real you.”

  He frowned, and regarded her seriously. “Are you sure?”

  She looked at him, eyes wide. “I think so,” she said honestly.

  He gathered his notes into his bag, stood, and held out his hand to her. She took it questioningly, and he tugged her along with him.

  “I need more room,” he explained.

  They walked a few minutes, Ingrid’s heart pounding the whole way, before coming to stop in a small meadow. He guided her to the edge of the clearing.

  “Wait here,” he said, gesturing back in the trees a bit, and then pausing. “Are you really sure you want to see? I don’t want to frighten you.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, trying to sound confident. “Only- will you still be you? Do I need to hide or something?”

  He laughed at that and hugged her closely. “Ingrid, I wouldn’t ever show you this if there was a danger of you being eaten. I’ll be me, just… bigger.”

  She kissed him then, and he strode toward the middle of the meadow as she retreated into the trees slightly. Right in the middle he stopped and stripped, and shot her a playful look as he set his clothes aside.

  And then, as she watched, he was gone. But not g
one, because there he was; deep emerald green with blazing eyes, with great folded wings gleaming in the sunlight. He was huge, so huge he was quite cramped in the meadow. She had to look almost directly up to see his head, and when she did he was already gazing at her. He was as beautiful as he was in his human form, but in a profoundly different way.

  She stepped into the meadow tentatively, not looking away from his eyes that were so similar to the ones she was used to staring into. He brought his head down to the ground, and she was shocked at the size up close; his head was taller than her. She reached out slowly and pressed a hand to his face, right beneath his eye. His skin was softer than she expected, and hot. The strangest thing, though, was that he still felt like himself. Not that human Helias had leathery green skin, but she could sense that underneath, it was just her Helias.