by G. A. Aiken
“I’m guessing my sisters helped you get your chamber set up, eh, Rhiannon?”
He reached down and when he stood tall again, he held those damn chains in his hands. “I love how my kin cares for me so.”
“Dammit!” She tried to scramble away from him, but as strong as he was, he was also unbelievably fast. He caught hold of her around the waist and slammed her back to the bed.
“Oh, no, no, my love. You wanted me to Claim you properly. Then Claim you I shall. So that everyone knows it.”
Gods, what did that mean?
The collar snapped around her neck and she growled in protest.
“Don’t complain. You know you love it.”
She did, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
Once he had the collar on securely and the chain that ran from it in his hand, he pulled her up the bed until her head nearly touched the headboard. Then the bastard clamped cuffs on her wrists and chained her arms to the bedpost.
And his sisters suggested this bloody bedpost! I’ll have to thank them later, she thought happily to herself.
Now it was true she could, finally, shift back to dragon at anytime, but then . . . so could he. Besides, where would be the fun in that? Bercelak stood up and stared at her with both her arms bound.
Gods, the heat in his eyes made her wet and needy. As it always did. No one had ever looked at her like that. True, she’d seen lust before, but never so mingled with love.
He glanced at her legs. “Hhhm. I’d hate for you to kick me,” he muttered to himself.
“Don’t you dare!”
Which, of course, meant he would dare.
Bercelak’s big fingers dragged along her body as he slowly walked to the foot of the bed. He stopped long enough to gently grip a nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeeze. She barely stopped that moan in time, but he saw her struggle and grinned.
Then he was moving again. Once he reached the end of the bed, he locked a chain to the tall bedpost and then grabbed hold of her foot, cuffing it.
He walked to the other side, the whole time staring at her.
“Gods, Rhiannon, you are beautiful. Whether as dragon or human . . . you’re beautiful.”
She’d had other males say similar words to her in the past, but never with such passion and, because Bercelak wanted only her and not her crown, those words meant so much more than anything anyone had said before.
Her other foot locked to the bedpost, she now lay spread eagle and open for his pleasure. She couldn’t wait.
Instead of taking her, though, he stared at her for long moments and finally she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“What? What are you staring at?”
“I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you. I want everyone to know that you belong to me, Rhiannon. Everyone. Tell me now if that’s not what you want.”
Ooh. This was going to hurt. But it would be a shortlived pain and she wanted all to know she belonged to him. She wanted dragons from far and wide to know that to even look at her was to risk her mate’s wrath.
“No more words, Low Born. Don’t waste my time. Just do what you intend or let me go.”
He nodded once and then he was on the bed, his mouth over her human foot. Right by that oddly shaped “big toe.” Bercelak’s talented tongue slid across her toe and down the top of her foot. And where his tongue went, a brutal pain followed as he burned her. Most dragon mates marked a shoulder or wrist. Some a breast or, the one’s with senses of humor, the ass. But Bercelak was his father’s son and when he took a woman he wanted everyone to know he’d Claimed her. Kin or enemy. Friend or foe. They would all know.
She bit her lip to keep in the screams of pain she wanted to unleash as Bercelak’s tongue wound its way across her exposed body. And where his tongue couldn’t reach, he let out a lash of Magick-imbued flame to do the job for him. But even as the pain grew worse and worse, so did the feeling that was growing steadily along her spine and in her pussy.
As she fought to keep her cries of pain in, she also fought to keep in her screams of lust. By the time his tongue slid across her belly, she arched her back and screamed out her climax. But he didn’t stop. Not her Bercelak. He kept going, his tongue moving up her body, across her ribs, and around one breast to lash across a nipple. That’s when another climax racked her. Still, he wasn’t done. His tongue slid across her upper chest and collar bone, then across her neck, finally stopping as he stroked her jaw.
For a moment she thought he’d splash it across her face, but he’d hate to give her any more scars than he already had.
“Does it hurt?” he whispered in her ear.
“Aye.”
“Do you care?”
“Nay.”
“Do you want me to fuck you now, Princess?”
It should insult her that he still called her by that title, but she wanted him to call her that until they were gray Elders. She wanted to always be his princess because she had thousands who would see her as their queen.
“Get on with it, Low Born,” she snarled.
And she saw her Bercelak smile just before his mouth slammed down on hers. He kissed her hard, snatching the breath from her lungs and her ability to think or reason. Then he was on top of her. His flesh pressing against hers. She cried out from the pain of his skin rubbing against her fresh burns, but the sound was lost inside his mouth. Then he was inside her and she immediately climaxed before he finished the first stroke.
He slammed into her, forcing his hard cock into her body again and again, as words tumbled from his mouth and it took her a moment to understand what he kept chanting over and over against her ear.
“I love you, Rhiannon. I’ll always love you. I’ll always love you.”
Bercelak came with a roar, pouring his seed into her hot, tight body as she came yet again, this time screaming his name.
Collapsing on top of her, Bercelak wrapped his arms around her and held Rhiannon tight. She was his now and every dragon would know it.
She gasped for air beside him and he realized he couldn’t keep lying on top of her like this. As dragon they were now of equal size. But as human, she was still smaller than him . . . although taller than most human males.
Using his arms to push himself off her body, he rolled over and lay beside her, his head cradled in the curve of her still bound arm.
“I love you, Rhiannon,” he whispered as if others could hear.
She whispered back, “I love you, Bercelak.” He’d waited so long to hear that . . . and it felt even better than he used to imagine it would.
He reached up and unshackled her. He glanced down at her feet, temporary exhaustion weighing him down. “Think you can take care of those?”
“Aye.”
Her hand waved tiredly in the air and the shackles unlocked and dropped from her feet.
“You know, love, your new skills could get in the way of our mutual enjoyment of your being bound.”
She smiled, her white hair plastered to her sweat-covered forehead. “Only if we let it.”
He grinned and turned over, lying on his stomach. “All right, then, Princess. Your turn.”
She stared at him in confusion. “My turn what?”
“To Claim me. I’d like you to avoid the face, though. I think I have enough scars there, don’t you?”
She stared at him in surprise. It wasn’t that females didn’t mark their mates, but it rarely happened in the beginning. Most males needed to show their dominance and did it with the Claiming. Years later, after all had settled down, did the females finally mark them.
“Are . . . are you sure?” She couldn’t seem to get that look of shock off her face. It made him smile. She usually hid her surprise so well.
“Am I sure that I want everyone to know I belong to you as you belong to me? Oh, yes, love. I’m very sure. Now,” he settled down, his head resting on his crossed arms, “what was it you said to me? Oh, yes . . . No more words, Princess. Don’t waste my time. Just
do what you intend or let me go.”
Before he could say another word, Rhiannon straddled his ass and he just knew this was going to hurt.
“My Lord.”
Bercelak forced his eyes open to find the centaur standing beside him. She leaned in and whispered. “I’m sorry to awaken you, my lord. But your kin have asked to speak with you.”
He glanced around, his eyes still trying to focus. “Is it morning?”
The centaur smiled, most likely remembering her promise from the night before. “Yes, my lord. Late morning.”
“Tell them I’ll be right there.”
Without another word, she bowed and left.
Rhiannon, still human as was he, was pushed up tight against his side, her head nearly buried in his armpit. She slept deep and looked beautiful doing it.
He smiled as he remembered their Claiming from the night before. With all that screaming and roaring and snarling, the whole court must have thought they were killing each other. He kissed her forehead and dragged himself out of bed.
Without even thinking about it, as human he went to the Queen’s Hall. He had every intention of getting right back into bed and enjoying Rhiannon—his Rhiannon—even more before first meal. Then he’d spend the rest of the day and eve taking her as dragon.
Several of his brothers and Ghleanna, all those who went to track down Rhiannon’s kin, waited for him.
One of his younger brothers whistled. “Gods, Bercelak. What did that female do to you?”
“What is it?” he barked, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet braced apart. He was in no mood for his siblings’ antics when he had the woman of his dreams waiting for him back in their bedchamber.
Ghleanna answered, “By the time we arrived, her three brothers and that viper sister of hers were long gone. Word is that two of her brothers went into the Northlands.”
“Northlands?” he scoffed. “The lightning dragons will eat them alive. What else?”
“While the sister and the other brother went to the desert lands of Alsandair. Those dragons might help them.”
Addolgar stepped forward. “There’s no guarantee the lightning dragons won’t help them either. They may be barbarians, but they are greedy ones. They’d love to have this territory.”
“And they’ll never get it.”
At the sound of Rhiannon’s voice, they all turned except Bercelak. When around others he would never turn away from those who may harm her. Now that she was queen, even with her mother dead, Rhiannon was in more danger than she had been before. So, instead, he gave a quick glance at her over his shoulder. She stood before them as human, completely naked, the marks of her Claiming pitch black against her skin and the collar and chain still around her neck.
Bercelak had never loved her more.
“Gods, Bercelak!” his sister exclaimed. “What the hell did you do?”
He knew what she meant. He’d branded a dragon the entire length of Rhiannon’s body, the tail starting at the very tip of her foot and reaching up one leg, across her stomach, around her back and across her ass, then back around and up her ribcage, across her breast, then upper chest and collarbone, until it rested across her neck and stopped at the right side of her jaw.
But even though he knew what his sister meant, he didn’t answer her. Their Claiming was their Claiming and no one, even his nosy kin, had any say in it whatsoever.
He spoke to Rhiannon without turning around, “What do you want us to do? Do we follow them?”
“No. I’ll not send out troops to bring back four dragons,” she stated with confidence. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be prepared for them. If they come back here, with or without dragons from other regions, we’ll rip the scales from their body and tear their flesh apart.”
Bercelak bit back his smile as the entire hall fell silent at Rhiannon’s casually dropped words. He knew she meant it, but it was the coldness that frightened the rest of them. It didn’t frighten him, though. He knew she’d make a wonderful queen. He never had a doubt.
“We have things to right here first,” she continued. “My kin can wait until they do something stupid.”
She grew silent and he could feel her eyes boring into his back, examining her own mark. A dragon burned into his human flesh covered his entire back and, to his amusement, his ass as well. His body grew tight while his cock grew hard at the thought that his female wanted him as much as he wanted her. And he didn’t bother to hide his reaction. Let them see. Let them see it all.
“My bed grows cold, mate,” she murmured behind him. “Don’t leave me waiting.”
With that she turned and walked back to her bedchamber. Her chain dragging behind her.
Bercelak focused on his family. “We leave them for now as she said, but we’ll be ready for them should they return.”
His brothers nodded as did his sister. They were all part of Rhiannon’s court now. No longer the low-borns . . . but royalty.
With a nod, he turned and walked back up the stairs. He heard one of the other dragons, not his kin, mutter to a comrade beside him, the voice filled with disgust, “She’s marked him already. Look at his back.” The dragon snorted. “Well, we see who has the cock in that family.”
Bercelak kept walking, even as he sensed his kin silently backing away from the one who spoke. As he reached one of the weapon stands at the edge of the hall, he grasped a long pike, turned, and threw it with unerring aim.
The pike slammed through the dragon’s neck, yanking him back, and impaling him against the marble wall behind him.
Bercelak turned to the rest of the court who watched him in fear. All except his kin. They looked down at their feet or at the ceiling. Because they knew if they looked at each other they’d burst out laughing. Which would definitely destroy the terror thing they were all striving for at the moment.
He smiled, which seemed to scare the royals even more. “I didn’t hear him. What did he say?”
No one answered. No one dared.
“That’s what I thought.”
With that last bit sneered at those too weak to challenge him, he went back to his bedchamber and made his mate scream his name for the remainder of the morning . . . and well into the afternoon.
Epilogue
195 years later . . .
Snarling, Rhiannon marched back toward the family’s cave. While Devenallt Mountain held her throne, it was this cave where she raised her hatchlings. And what spoiled, rotten little hatchlings they were!
Without even thinking, she stormed past her mate, busy with his kin looking at attack plans. Her throne was at risk and they would be going to war. Already her two eldest had been given the armor of battle dragons. She didn’t want them to go, but they were old enough now to make their own choices.
Bercelak’s claw grabbed her upper forearm, holding her in place. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vice.
“Leave us,” he commanded the dragons in the room. And, without hesitation, they did.
“What’s wrong, Rhiannon? Tell me.”
She yanked her forearm away and glared at her mate. “Your,” and she punctuated that “your” with the tip of her tail in his face, “viper offspring cut off his tail!”
Bercelak shook his head in confusion. “Cut off whose tail?”
“Gwenvael’s!” she shouted, so angry, she could barely see straight.
But instead of Bercelak demanding his offspring’s presence so he could tell them what horrible little bastards they were, he burst out laughing.
“I’m sure he deserved it.”
Her tail slapped him across the neck. “This isn’t funny!”
“Oh, Rhiannon, just repair it. You baby him too much.”
She slammed her foot down, shaking the cave walls. “I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“When I caught them, I yelled right as Fearghus was throwing it to Briec. He was so startled that it slipped past h
is hands and into the river . . . they have not been able to find it.”
Bercelak cleared his throat and worked hard to keep his face straight. “It’s an easy enough thing to happen, my love.”
Her tail slammed into Bercelak’s chest, which didn’t even budge him. “You raised them very much as your father raised you, my love. Those little bastards don’t get startled!”
Unable to hold it back anymore, Bercelak once again burst out laughing. “I know!”
“Oh!” Rhiannon turned and started to storm away, but Bercelak’s forearms wrapped around her and he pulled her dragon body tight against his own.
“Don’t be angry, love. Please. I’m sorry.” He gave a valiant try at not laughing.
“It was horrible, Bercelak. Blood was flying everywhere, and he just kept swinging that tail around.”
With one snort, Bercelak started laughing again.
“You know,” she growled, “you wouldn’t think this was so funny if it were your precious Morfyd or Keita.”
As she knew, that sobered him immediately. “No, I would not.”
“Well that’s how I feel about my Gwenvael.”
“Again . . . you baby him too much.”
“And you’re too hard on him because he reminds you of your father.”
“From the time he was twenty winters I kept finding him with my father’s kitchen staff.”
“He’s lusty.”
“He’s a whore.”
“Oh!” She pulled out of his arms. “I won’t discuss this anymore. You’re irritating me, Low Born.”
She turned to walk away from him, but his voice stopped her.
“Don’t walk away from me, Rhiannon.” There was no threat in his voice. Only delicious promise.
“Shift,” he ordered with a low purr.
“Why should I?”
“Because I told you to.”
She did her best to hide the shudder that went through her body and shifted to human. In seconds, his human arms wrapped around her from behind, then his low voice muttered in her ear, “You are much too tense, Princess.”
“Think you can help me relax then?”
