Verde sighed. *What if I should falter while directing the dragons at Sea Cliff. They must form green eggs so I will not be alone.*
*I will be with you to help if you falter. Though I am asking much of one so young, you are well suited to the task. Speak to the reds at Sea Cliff and plant the idea of a mating flight. Once their speakers see the signs they will order extra feedings.*
* * *
When Drakon returned from plowing, he joined Arana in the village square. “How goes the planting?”
She glanced at the sky. “If the rains hold off for a few days, all will be well. Tomorrow, the near fields can be sown. The fyrethorn hedges and most of the herbs have been planted. Is the plowing done?” He nodded. “Then tomorrow you can help the men plant the grains and tubers.”
He clasped her hand. “Our help is gratefully accepted. In the years before Lagon’s invasion, this village seldom received the lord’s help since it was so distant from the towers. The lord did accept his tithe of the harvest.”
“That might explain why the village spawned traitors.”
He nodded. “That cannot happen again.”
“I spoke to Cerene and told her about the expected flight and the eggs to result. The Old One said she would speak for the red.”
“Tiron will be the speaker for the blue.”
“As soon as the eggs are laid, they must come to the cavern.”
“Why the rush?” Drakon asked.
Arana shrugged. “Only the Old One knows and he’s not speaking of his reasons.”
*There is a need I will explain later,* the Old One said. *Something brews at Sea Cliff, but the reds there have no idea what. We must make our plans with care and act before the evil one does.*
Arana grasped Drakon’s arm. “He’s right. Did you know Bekla left the village the day after she returned from the tower? She went to visit her brothers at the pass. Do you think she intends to find a way to the tower and bond with the egg?”
Drakon shook his head. “Why would she do that? Even if she licked the egg she would never be able to bond.”
*That is not her plan,* the Old One said. *I cannot be sure what scheme she lays since she had little speaker’s path.*
“Maybe we should visit the pass and see if she’s there,” Arana said.
Drakon nodded. “We could.”
*You do not have time to go to the pass and return,* the Old One said.
Arana’s shoulders slumped. “I fear what she will do.”
Drakon straightened. “Would Lagon welcome her at Sea Cliff?”
Arana shrugged. “He has little use for women.”
Drakon squeezed her hand. “Let us talk to people and see what we can learn.” He strode away and paused beside the headman and several council members. They had no answers for his questions. Drakon spotted Tiron and waved.
The tall, dark-haired young man sauntered across the square. “Do you have news about more eggs?”
“There will be a mating flight soon,” Drakon said. “As soon as you are summoned, you and Cerene must come to the tower.”
“How will we know when that time arrives?”
“Either Verde or the Old One will call.”
“Verde?”
“The green dragon.” Drakon paused. “I’ve heard Bekla has gone to visit her brothers at the pass. Is that true?”
Tiron nodded. “And good riddance. After her accusations against you were made into a joke, she stormed off. She has no other place to go, so she must be with them.”
“Has anyone checked to see if she’s there?”
Tiron shrugged. “Why would they? She’s nothing but a trouble maker.”
Drakon walked away. Was Bekla with her brothers? His only hope was that the pass remained snow-bound.
* * *
Lagon surveyed the workers in the village fields. In a few days the spring planting would be done. He studied the fyrethorn hedge. The new formed leaves were pale and the forming thorns thin and pink instead of blood red and full of juice. He called to the slaves and ordered them to plant the seedlings force grown from the berries brought from High Peaks in the spaces where bushes had been removed.
A commotion broke his concentration. A woman’s voice rose above the deeper voices of the men. She sounded angry. Had someone found Arana and returned her to Sea Cliff?
He turned toward the source of the disturbance and saw a young woman whose black hair hung down her back in a single braid. Gold cording wrapped around the plait and glinted in the sunlight. He strode across the field and gestured for the servants to release her. Her dark eyes flashed with anger. She held the reins of a pair of horses. One bore many sacks.
“Who are you?” As he studied her lush body and her pouting mouth, his phala pulsed.
“I am Bekla, my lord.” The silken quality of her voice flowed sensuously as flesh over flesh.
He reached for her hand. “Why are you here?” He traced circles with his hand on her palm. The scent of her perfume flavored with the aroma of arousal reached him.
She moistened her lips. “My brothers visited you. They said you were seeking a woman who would ride your dragon hard enough to satisfy your needs. A woman who could present you with an heir.”
“I am. Do you think you are the one?”
She stepped closer. “I’ve brought enough thorns and berries for a dozen mating flights for your pair of dragons.”
The scent of her desire threatened to overpower him. He ran his hands along her arms. He pushed the heavy shawl from her shoulders. “Where did you find these gifts?”
“From the harvest of the hedges in my village. Two full carts and more were gleaned.” She stepped closer until the toes of her boots touched his. “A slave escaped from the priestesses and brought seeds from their bushes.”
Lagon arched a brow. “How did he manage to reach High Peaks? No stranger left a ship at our only port and traveled toward that tower. The mountains are too high to be climbed.”
“I have no clue to how he reached High Peals. Perhaps he found a secret way. I saw him when he came to the village for the harvest. I visited the tower to see him. He turned me away.” Bitterness edged her voice.
“The man’s a fool to deny you.” His hands reached her shoulders and he stroked her neck. “Why would he do that?”
“He chose an escaped slave, a woman with hair the color of fire.”
“Arana.” Anger surged. “Did you see her?”
She smiled. “Saw and marked her skin with my nails.”
“Why did you come here?”
She swayed toward him. Her lush breasts touched his chest. “I would ride your dragon.”
The light caresses of her breasts filled him with desire. “Mine?” His lips curved into a smile.
She slid a hand between them and touched his breeches. His phala throbbed. “This will be a mighty ride.”
He placed one hand behind her neck and kissed her hard and quick. “I’ll goad my pair into a flight.”
Her hand eased into the front fold of his breeches. Her fingers touched his swollen phala. “My lord, I cannot wait that long to see and taste you. Your dragon needs no stimulus but me.”
He laughed. “Flying with the dragons before we couple will make the ride exciting.” How could he explain that seemed to be the only way he could perform? But was it? He was as primed as he’d been for years. He slid one side of her blouse from her shoulder and stroked her breast. As he fondled her, her explorations became more fevered. “Enough.” He stepped back and shouted instructions to the men, then clasped her hand. “You will come with me.”
“My lord, we will come together.”
He clasped her arm and led her from the field toward the tower. Her aroma filled his senses. Once they reached the tower he paused at the foot of the stairs and pulled her flush against him. His mouth covered hers. His teeth sunk into her lower lip. Her nails dug into his shoulders. He could take her here. He wanted to thrust into her depths, but there were things he wanted
to know. He released her. “Soon.”
As they climbed the stairs, he walked behind her. He pulled her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and slid his hands along her ribs to squeeze her breasts and pinch the nipples. The sounds she made nearly drew him toward union, but that could wait.
They reached his chamber. He pushed her inside. The door clicked. She turned into his embrace. As he kissed her, she raised his tunic and stroked his chest.
When he released her mouth she tugged his tunic over his head, and then opened his breeches to expose his phala. “I do so like your dragon.” She pulled her blouse over her head and cupped her breasts. “A taste, my lord.”
The sight made Lagon forget about goading the dragons into flight. He sucked on one breast. Before he took more of the bounty she offered he needed some answers. “I have questions.”
Bekla’s skirt slid over her hips. “What do you wish to know?” She removed the cord from her braid and freed her hair to form a dark fall down her back.
“Tell me the name of the slave who escaped from the priestesses.”
Bekla turned her back and bent to unlace her boots. “His name is Drakon. He’s tall and muscular. He has the look of the dead lord of High Peals.”
Lagon held his breath. He nearly lost control. Not yet. “Could this Drakon be a by-blow?”
She turned to face him. “The lord never took another woman to his bed. The village headman said Drakon was the son who was lost when you came to the tower.”
Lagon tensed. Though he could send servants to High Peak, he had to wait until the planting was done. Then an army could be assembled and orders issued.
Bekla opened his trousers. She bent and licked his throbbing phala. Then she walked to the bed. “Your dragon is ready for flight.”
Lagon kicked off his boots and breeches. He walked to the bed and knelt between her legs. As he thrust inside, someone pounded on the door.
“My lord, the red dragons are restless. I believe they will take flight within the hour.”
* * *
Drakon and Arana rode into the tower grounds. Sofona and Radlan strode from the tower. Drakon heard the Old One urging haste. He handed the reins to Radlan. “We’ll tell you what we’ve learned later.”
“Why the rush?” Sofona asked.
“The Old One said to hurry. Within the hour Azure and Roja will rise to mate. We need to prepare.”
“Do you have time for a meal?” the older woman asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then a good flight to you.” Sofona returned to the tower.
Drakon prayed the lump in his stomach would dissolve. Instead it seemed to grow large enough to choke him. Though the Old One had promised the flight would break the bonds laid by the priestesses, he feared they would remain.
*Stop your fears,* the Old One said. *You have time to bathe before they fly. Once you do, go to the sleeping mats.*
Drakon stripped and entered the pool. Arana followed. He washed away the results of two days of travel.
“What should we do?” Arana ducked under the water to rinse the soap away.
“I don’t know.”
*Dry yourselves and go to the cots,* the Old One said. *Pull them together. Open the speaker’s path to your dragon and Verde. Guide your dragons along the patterns Verde sends. Drakon, your bonds of compulsion will be broken. As soon as the last tie is broken, close the paths.*
*There will be two eggs,* Verde announced. *Roja must follow the path to the end. Arana, you will keep her from choosing a different way. The dragons at Sea Cliff will dance to different patterns. Roja must not stray from hers.* His voice rang with eagerness. *I will send the pattern to you and Drakon, and you will tell Roja and Azure.*
“But we must leave before the final sequence,” Arana said.
*That is true, but Roja and Azure have practiced that one so their minds and bodies will remember.*
*Why will the dragons at Sea Cliff rise?” Drakon asked.
*Their mating will divert Lagon’s plans.*
“What plans?*
*To send men here, but he will not act yet. His men and those from the captive towers are involved in spring planting. He will not send them before that is done. When he learns the reds are with egg, he will count them before they hatch. He doesn’t have the talent to know the color before they’re laid.*
Drakon wrapped a towel around his waist. He followed Arana to the sleeping mats. He kissed her hand. *To a good flight.* He took his place and opened his speaker’s path.
*Azure, you do not fly yet,* Verde said. *I will go, then Roja is next.*
Drakon sent the same command. Through the dragon’s eyes he saw the green hover above the forecourt. Roja stepped over the edge, caught an updraft, and soared until she was above Verde.
Azure moved from the cavern and took flight. Drakon rode with him on the speaker’s path. He sent the blue the steps of the pattern received from Verde.
Something within Drakon changed. Each new movement snapped a cord inside. His heart thudded in his chest. The beat pulsed from heart to head to groin. Resistance grew. Pain flooded. The sensations convulsed into an explosion.
*Arana. Drakon. Close the path.*
Through the scintillating bursts of pain, Drakon slammed a barrier across the speaker’s path. Perspiration covered his skin. He turned on his side and saw Arana. The love in her eyes drove the lingering aftermaths of the experience away.
He drew closer until they were flesh to flesh. The last strand of compulsion snapped and he was free. The commands uttered by the priestesses withered like plants beneath the touch of frost. He kissed Arana until his lungs burned for air. He stroked her hair and with the other hand pressed her closer.
“I love you,” Arana said.
“As I love you, and have done so for years.” He laughed. “I’m free. Free to show you the passion storming my body and my thoughts.” He kissed her mouth and then her neck. He ran his tongue along her throat, stirring heat and raising desire.
He rolled to his back and pulled her with him. She sat astride his thighs and ran her hands over his chest. His phala rose. Her hands moved down his body and grasped his swollen member. She stroked the head with her fingers and then bent and took him into her mouth.
Need infused him. “Ride my dragon, speaker.” His voice rasped.
She raised her hips and held his phala against her nether lips. She ran the head over her pleasure node and across her labia. Slowly she encased him and began to rock.
Drakon felt the need to move. He carefully reversed their position. He braced himself on his elbows and began a rhythm of thrust and retreat. Arana’s body responded to him. Her breathing quickened. She whimpered. Her excitement urged him to increase his pace. Faster and faster he plunged. The aroma of their joining permeated the air. The sounds of their mating spurred him. A growl built inside.
Her moans became cries. “Now, oh, now.” Her body tensed and then shuddered. She tightened around him.
His body arched. He roared in triumph and released. The flow seemed endless. He captured her mouth in a devouring kiss. He rolled to his side and brought her with him. “Arana.”
She stroked his face. “I know. We are now one.” She brushed her lips over his.
As he drifted to sleep he knew the healing of his past wasn’t complete. As long as Lagon ruled Sea Cliff and the dragons of the other towers remained as captives a sore remained an open wound.
Chapter Ten
The rush caused by the poisons of the berry tea opened Lagon’s speaking path to the Sea Cliff blue. He watched his companion drink her third cup and lie on the couch. Her connection to the red was tenuous. How could she lead the red on a flight to produce eggs? No matter. The flight must be flown.
Four reds shot into the sky. Lagon and his blue tore after the Sea Cliff red. How many more times could he join his dragon in flight before he became as insane as his father had been before his death? There were times when the antidote failed to clo
se the path and for days he heard the dragon’s voice in his head.
The red looped in a circle above the keep. Lagon laughed as the blue followed. The teasing dance flown by the red followed a pattern different from the mating flights he had forced the dragons to take. Through the blue’s eyes he saw the three captured pairs follow the same sequences. His body tensed as the danced moved toward completion.
His fingers dug into the arms of the woman beside him on the lounge. His voice rose and urged his blue to capture his mate. Bekla’s cries rose to a fevered pitch.
*Mine,* the blue roared.
“Mine, mine,” Lagon echoed as he was thrust from the rapport. He turned to the woman at his side.
She pulled him atop her. “Lagon, my lord, come to me. Come with me.”
He rammed his phala into her wet channel. She screamed his name and clawed his back. The threads of pain pushed him to exert himself. She moved in concert with him. Their mouths fused. Tongues entered and retreated. From deep inside a roar began. He threw his head back and erupted on a scream. He heard her echoing cry of triumph. He collapsed on her. She sucked on his neck.
He raised his head and reached for the cup of antidote the serving slave offered. He swallowed the bitter liquid and grimaced as shards of pain sliced through his head. He rolled off Bekla and handed her a cup. She drank.
Lagon would have left, but she pushed him to his back and straddled his thighs. What did she want? She scraped her nails along his skin. She bent and sucked his nipples. His flaccid member stirred.
“There’s more to come,” she crooned. She ran her hand over his phala. The deep voices of the other speakers formed a background for her soft whispers.
“Bekla, enough for now.”
“You disappoint me, my lord.”
He dug his fingers into her arms until she gasped. “The other men are aware now. Don’t you feel their lustful glances?”
She laughed. “But they cannot have me. I am yours and you are mine. Don’t you feel their envy, my lord? They know none of them has a dragon to match yours.” She began to pump his phala.
Dragons of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 2) Page 15
