by Jessica Ryan
Taming The Dragon Collection
By Jessica Ryan
Copyright © 2014 Jessica Ryan
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Jessica Ryan Books
Cover Art by Yoly Cortez of Cormar Covers
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENT WARNING: This short story contains adult material with explicit sexual situations and language. All sexually active characters in this work are 19 years of age or older.
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TAMING THE DRAGON PART 1
Chapter 1
Mara looked back at the forest they had just exited and sighed. There was more and more distance between her and her home with each cold, snow-covered step. This wasn’t how she had expected her first major journey with her soon-to-be husband to play out.
She looked up ahead of her, at the back of the man who had come to her village just two days before, promising to take her away to a life of riches and privilege if she’d just help him find his way up the mountain. He was Val Woodshadow, the most famous dragon-slaying knight from Escrimea’s crown city: Atherny.
But they were a long way from Atherny, as far north as a person could go without dipping into barbarian lands. On the very edge of the wilderness, at the base of the great mountain, lay Mara’s village: Husavik. Val had ridden in with a group of squires to carry his belongings and bards to scribe his tale and sing his praises. There had never been such fanfare for a visitor in Husavik.
Mara’s father, Erik, had immediately invited the brave knight to stay in his house and eat at his table. Val had been polite enough, even if there was an underlying bit of arrogance to be seen on his face. Mara had dismissed it as confidence, though; who wouldn’t be confident, with the long list of accomplishments that Val had? On top of that he was the most handsome man Mara had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.
As she sat at her father’s table, surrounded by village elders and their families, she couldn’t help but notice the difference in Val and the other men her age. They were all wide and husky, with gigantic forearms from chopping wood and hunting. All of their noses looked like they’d been smashed with the flat side of their axes and their hair was a wild, tangled mess of blond or brown that sat on a pale face hardly touched by the sun.
Meanwhile, Val’s skin was a beautiful olive tone that worked perfectly with his silky, long black hair and dark, fiery eyes. He was tall, but wasn’t broad and bulky like the men of her village. Instead he was sleek and fearsome, like a wolf on the prowl. One look at him politely eating his food, instead of shoveling it in like the other men, made her bosom heave and her nether regions grow hot and sticky.
These feelings intensified tenfold when Val first made eye contact with her. At first she was sure it was a mistake, but throughout the meal she would look up to see Val’s eyes landing on her and the slightest hint of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
No man had ever looked at Mara like that before. It wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty; no, that wasn’t the case at all. Her waist wasn’t the thinnest, but she wasn’t a shield wife either. On top of that, her skin was unblemished and her bosom was substantial. Her blonde hair was always neat and kempt and her father told her she had the bluest eyes in the kingdom. But being the daughter of the village elder meant most men would just as soon find a wife in the local bar rather than play the political games necessary to win Mara’s hand.
Fortunately, Val was no stranger to political games and he didn’t make it a secret that he was lusting after the elder’s fine daughter.
That night after everyone had cleared out, Val had joined her father by the fire for a drink. Both had thought she was off to bed; instead, Mara positioned herself in the stairwell, out of sight, to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Your daughter is an impressive girl,” Val said. His voice was cold and sharp, like the edge of a blade.
“Mara?” Erik asked dismissively. “She’s just a girl, sir.”
“I find my eyes drawn to her,” Val said. “I’m more than interested in what she has to offer me.”
“As far as?”
“Well, first off, as far as finding my way through the infernal forest outside your village and to the correct path in the mountains.”
“But, sir,” her father protested. “Mara does not know her way around the forest and the mountains as well as one of my sons would.”
“This may be true,” Val said, pausing momentarily. Mara could feel her heart jumping into her throat as he paused. Was he changing his mind about her? “But I do not make it a habit to take other men on my journey to slay dragons. They see the glory for themselves, get in the way, that kind of thing. I’d much prefer a woman as beautiful as your daughter to accompany me. Now, she’s lived here her entire life. Surely she knows something, no?”
Mara almost collapsed down the stairs. It was as if she was suddenly weightless and free from the shackles of village life. The handsome knight wanted her and only her to accompany him.
“My daughter is unwed and does not know the touch of a man, sir,” her father said. “It would not look good to the other elders for her to accompany a man into the great white unknown by herself.”
“Then I will wed her,” Val said matter-of-factly.
Mara bit her bottom lip hard, trying not to squeal as she made sure she had heard what he said correctly. Did he really want to wed her? This was it; this was her opportunity to finally see the world. She could escape ho-hum village life and really see what a city was supposed to look like. She would finally be in the capital city, able to eat a variety of foods imported from around the globe, able to try on the finest silks, and she would meet new and exciting people every day. She wouldn’t be just anyone; she’d be the wife of a famous knight.
“My daughter?” her father asked incredulously. “You want to marry my daughter? My little Mara? Surely you jest.”
“I never jest,” Val said. “Think of what it would do for your village. I’m sure when your daughter has influence and prestige she’ll want to see her daddy and his people taken care of. I am fairly popular in Atherny. If I want to give my wife a trade route for her birthday, then that’s what I’ll do.”
She heard her father’s chair move as he stood up. “Mara? Are you up there, Mara? We need to speak now!”
That was the day before. When Mara had been so full of hope and wonder. Now she had nothing, nothing but blisters on her feet from trudging behind the blowhard who would soon call himself her husband. For the last day and a half all she had heard
was how great Val Woodshadow was and how powerful he was. He was a star in Atherny, unable to walk the streets without being mobbed by the women of the city. Young boys followed him everywhere, hoping to become his next squire. He never paid for anything, because the merchants were more than happy to give him every item he requested for free.
At first Mara had been impressed, but the men in her village were humble. The more she heard Val’s brags, the more she soured on him. Could he ever truly love her when he was so obviously in love with himself?
The only words she could get out of Val were about himself. At first she had tried to tell him a little bit about herself and her past, but the coldness she felt from him was enough to freeze her tongue. He only smiled when recounting a story about his past. Those were the only words he spoke to her.
“We are exiting the forest now, sir,” she said from behind him. “I trust I have gathered enough firewood as you requested?”
Val turned and looked back at her, his eyes showing none of the love or warmth he had shown at the dinner table. He gave a casual glance to the bundle of sticks she had strapped to her back and nodded. “That will be more than enough to lure the dragon.”
“Sir,” she asked, trying to catch up to him, but his strides were too great. “Why do you have need of me on this journey? You appear to know the way just fine.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a chuckle, still not turning to acknowledge her. “You are doing a fine job as a guide.”
“But you have been leading the way, sir,” she said.
“Have I?” he said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I guess you’re just that good. Now less talky and more walky.”
Mara looked at the ground and shuddered. It wasn’t the first time he had admonished her over the last day and a half. It was like he didn’t want her here, he was just tolerating her.
“Sir, can we stop and rest?” Mara asked. “My feet are killing me and it’s almost mid-afternoon. We have gone for quite some time without taking a break.”
“Are you not made from sturdier stuff?” Val asked, stopping and turning back to her. “I thought you shield wives were part oxen.”
“I am not a shield wife,” Mara said, taking offense at his words. A shield wife was the name for a large woman, usually of the same ancestry as the barbarians, who could handle herself just as well in a fight as her husband. They gathered the name because they carried the husband’s shield into battle and took it up if he fell.
“Oh, of course not,” Val said, turning and walking back towards her. She began to back away as he stalked toward her. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked her up and down. She continued to back away until she was stopped by a rock jutting up from the mountainous trail they had found themselves on. It was about four feet high, perfect for her to lean against. She felt the bundle of sticks clatter to the ground as it slipped off her back. Val looked at it before turning his eyes back to her and smiling again. “You want to please your lord husband, do you not?”
“You are not my lord husband yet, sir,” she said, trying not to make eye contact with him. Every time they made eye contact she grew incredibly uncomfortable. That night at her father’s table, his gaze had filled her stomach with butterflies and left her with nothing but smiles. Now it twisted her stomach into a knot and made her face burn.
“I will be,” he said, stopping right in front of her. He placed his hands on her hips, leaning in to her as he used his knees to force her legs apart. The old brown dress she wore began to hike up her legs, nearly exposing her to him. She tried to look away, but his face was now right beside hers as he began to sniff her neck, like some kind of beast sniffing its kill.
The feeling of a man as beautiful as Val this close to her should have had her exploding with giddiness. She had never been touched like this by a man before and the sensation to her body should be overwhelming. Her inner thighs should be wet with arousal and the heat coming from her nether region should be palpable. But she felt none of that. Her skin was cold and clammy and there was definitely no arousal emanating from her sweet spot. This was wrong, very wrong.
“Please, sir,” she said, trying to push him away. He was like a statue, unmovable. “We should be moving on with your journey.”
“I thought you needed a rest,” he whispered in her ear. She felt him press his crotch against hers, grinding his codpiece against her undergarments. It was made of thick leather, but she could feel his own arousal thick behind it. “How about I relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. You want off your feet? How about you get on your back?”
“Please, sir,” she whispered. “No.”
“Or how about you just get on your knees? Will that be more agreeable?” he asked.
There was no humor in his voice. It was razor sharp, like the magical sword, Heart Fire, he had sheathed across his back.
“Sir, we cannot make love before we are wed,” she said. “It is improper, and the gods will not approve.”
“I do not fear the gods,” he whispered.
She shivered as his tongue left his mouth and found its way slowly down her neck to her collarbone. It took everything in her power not to slap Val or push him away. She knew that would be foolish.
She looked up at his face as he leered at her, knowing that he was about to have his way with her. She tried to focus on something, anything but his cold, dark eyes. She looked at the hilt of Heart Fire jutting up behind his left shoulder and tried to focus on that. Her eyes travelled, trying to find something to focus on. It was at that moment she noticed the arrow sticking out of his left shoulder. It wasn’t a very big arrow, and it didn’t look like it had even made its way through the heavy armor piece he wore in that area, but she was certain it hadn’t been there before.
“What?” he asked, following her eyes to his shoulder. Just as she gasped, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to the ground beside the rock.
“Sir!” she cried out.
“Stay down!” he ordered. “Goblins.”
Mara crawled backwards, trying to hide herself behind the rock as Val turned and drew Heart Fire.
Goblins, she thought. We’ll see how powerful you really are, Val Woodshadow.
Mara couldn’t believe it, but she was rooting for the little gray bastards.
Chapter 2
Val’s magical sword flashed brilliantly against the gray, hazy afternoon sky as the goblin that had had the bad idea of jumping from above onto Val met its untimely end. The goblins just kept coming, like a force of nature pouring out of the hills, but none of them were big enough or strong enough to pierce Val’s studded black leather and steel armor. Even though he was weighed down by the heavy suit, he spun and twirled magnificently, parrying blows and delivering death with each cleave of his mighty sword.
Mara was in awe watching the child-sized gray bodies pile up around Val as he ruthlessly cut through them with a stoic expression on his face. He looked about as interested as someone practicing on a wooden dummy, but these were living, breathing creatures that he was destroying.
He’s the real deal, she thought. I have no hope of ever escaping him. I’m his forever now.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, though. She tried to force herself to think happy thoughts as she watched his incredible display of might. Val was about to have his way with her, but maybe things were different in Atherny; maybe it was accepted for a man and a woman to know one another out of wedlock. Maybe it was something Val did before battles to invigorate himself. He had become interested in screwing her when she had said she was tired and needed to rest. She had never been with a man before, so she wasn’t sure, but maybe it would have relaxed her and taken some of the edge away.
In her heart she knew these were rationalizations, but it was the only thing that would keep her sane. Besides, judging by his stories, Val was a man who had women literally throwing themselves at him regularly. His being told no was something that simply didn’t happen.
Mara was ri
pped from her thoughts by the sound of metal scraping on rock, joined by the blood-curdling sound of a guttural language not normally heard by humans. Slowly she turned her head to the right to see a four-foot-tall, grayish-green creature crawling over the rock towards her. He was truly hideous, with a long hooked nose, gnarled floppy ears and beady little eyes that centered on her.
“No,” she begged. “Please.”
He continued to crawl towards her, cursing her in his own language. He was threatening her and gesticulating wildly with his dagger. He was ordering her to do something, but she didn’t know what. She glanced forward to see Val still annihilating the horde that was raining in on him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand you.”
He continued to chatter at her, drawing ever closer with the edged steel of his dagger. Mara had to defend herself; there was no other way around it. She moved quickly, quicker than the goblin was expecting, grabbing one of the sticks she had dropped and lifting it high to catch the goblin across the face. He cried out in pain and swung with his dagger. She immediately felt a searing pain across her shoulder and collarbone. Her dress was growing hot and wet as the creature sneered at her, preparing to stab again.
“I’ll hit you again,” she warned, weakly lifting her stick to swing again. Pain shot through her left arm as she dropped the stick and stumbled backwards into the snow. This was it; she was going to be killed by a tiny goblin.
Mara yelped as hot, sticky blood covered her face. The goblin hung in mid-air, its head slumped over as it gurgled its last breath. Val lifted it into the air and put his heavy boot on its backside, pushing as it slid off his sword and hit the ground with a sickening thud.
“You’ve been stabbed,” he said, very little concern in his voice.
“He cut me,” she whispered weakly.
