by Cherry Sloe
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CARESS THE DRAGON
by
CHERRY SLOE
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
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Caress The Dragon
An Amber Quill Press Book
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2003 by Cherry Sloe
ISBN 1-59279-127-1
Cover Art © 2003 Trace Edward Zaber
Rating: NC-17
Layout and Formatting
Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
Published in the United States of America
Also by Cherry Sloe
Roman Dagger
Dedication
To Shelly, my dear friend and fellow adventurer
Chapter 1
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"Pompous little man," laughed the rich, contralto voice. "Leave, and take your entourage of fools with you. Toth, show him out."
Her Most Exalted Highness, the Royal Protector Kira, waved a slim hand swathed in silks and a muscular, grim-faced sentinel advanced toward the furious suitor and his startled sycophants. Kira settled back upon her throne and resisted the impulse to shove a dagger between Prince Salin's beady black eyes.
Prince Salin was not ready to depart.
"This is outrageous, protector." The tips of the man's elaborately curled moustache flopped as he was shoved backwards toward the bronze-wrapped doors at the rear of the audience hall. "I protest this shoddy treatment!" He slapped ineffectively at Toth's huge hands. "You and your tiny monarchy will regret the day Prince Salin was ejected from the palace like a commoner!"
He twisted away from the burly bodyguard's hands and huffed through the doorway, attendants bobbing along behind like colorful bows on a bouncing kite string.
Kira listened to his piercing complaints echoing off the stone corridors and wished she could escape to her private antechamber for a moment of peace. She anticipated there would be a roaring fire and a pitcher of frost wine waiting. Peace, quiet, solitude, and above all, no more meetings with irksome suitors.
She took a calming breath, and resolved to end the interviews with all haste. Salin was among the least repugnant of the applicants she'd had that day, and he made her skin crawl. Kira shuddered at the thought of taking him to her bed, feeling his soft hands groping her breasts, his hairy body thrusting into her own. She shuddered again.
"Badly done, Kira," observed a quiet voice from beside the delicate throne. A small, wizened woman of undeterminable age sat upright on a well-padded chair, her hands resting upon a knobby walking stick. "We need an alliance with Prince Salin's government. I fear your imprudent burst of temper has destroyed any chance we ever had of gaining their goodwill."
Kira sighed heavily. "I know, Aunt Ave," she agreed. "But I will not prostitute myself and this kingdom for the son of a minor dignitary." She shook her silk-shrouded head and felt ire rise. "Did he really think that I would choose him because"--her voice changed to mimic Salin's effete simper--"his superior, male mind could remove the weight of rule from my frail shoulders?"
She made a disgusted noise. "The Law of Consort is so foolish, so narrow-minded! Having to interview each candidate, no matter how obviously unsuitable, is absurd. What were our founders thinking?" She threw her hands wide with exasperation. "I cannot believe you ever managed to find a suitable companion."
The old lady nodded. "Your uncle was an exceptional consort indeed, but you do not have time to spend in a leisurely hunt for the perfect mate. The founders' charter is quite clear. You must choose a consort within the span of this moon or the Dragon Throne and five hundred years of peace will end.
"The Outer Kingdoms would throw their ancient differences aside and band together in a heartbeat for the chance to steal our country's riches. We cannot allow that, no matter the cost." Ave smiled sadly, a fine network of lines deepening around her bright blue eyes. "If only your sister were alive..."
"But she's not, Aunt," Kira retorted bitterly. "Now here I am, forced into an ill-fitting role and making mistakes at every turn."
"Try to hold your temper, youngling, and you'll do just fine."
"We've been sitting here all day, and I, for one, am ready to expire of boredom." Kira sat up straight. She called out to the massive guard. "Toth, I will hold no more audiences today. Tell the rest of the supplicants I am tired and wish to rest."
Heedless of the look of exasperation that flew between Aunt Ave and her chief bodyguard, Kira unfastened the heavy layers of mourning cloth that surrounded her face and head. "I cannot bear to wear this thing any longer." She peeled off the last piece and stuffed the all-enveloping veils under the throne. "There!" she pronounced with childish satisfaction. "Wearing mourning veils for more than four hours is pure torture."
The chill of the spacious chamber felt deliciously cool upon her hot skin. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers and tried to attain a state of calm.
"Unbind your hair, Kira. It looks uncomfortable," suggested Aunt Ave.
With a grateful nod, Kira shook her heavy braid of silver-white hair loose from its confining clasp at the nape of her neck, and stretched her long legs. For comfort's sake, she had chosen to wear her soft pale hunting leathers instead of the split skirt normally favored by the women of her kingdom. She smiled to herself, remembering how her sister's advisors despaired when they'd first realized she was not cut from the same feminine cloth as her older sibling. They had since adjusted to her idiosyncrasies.
"I think I'll take the hounds and go hunting for snow hare." She could almost smell the succulent meat sizzling over a cooking fire. "The drifts aren't so deep along the ridge lines..."
The brassbound double doors flew open at the end of the chamber. A tall, broad-shouldered man in traveler's clothing filled the doorway, eyes focused on the raised dais and its occupants. His boots left patches of melting snow on the stone floor and he still wore an ice-encrusted snow mask that covered the lower half of his face.
"I've traveled for weeks to get here and I will not be denied my right to petition." He spoke quietly, but his low voice echoed the length of the audience chamber. He took two more long strides inside and paused, ignoring the wide-eyed attendants who hurriedly closed the door behind him.
Kira stiffened. "How dare you?" she demanded, then stood and looked down on him with irritation. "The audiences are over for today and you will leave at once! I command it! Toth, get rid of this trespasser."
Her chief bodyguard advanced upon the man with slow caution. Kira was irked to realize Toth appeared less threatening when compared to the other's considerable size and height.
The intruder didn't move, yet his stance and posture showed he was ready to react at the slightest sign of danger. He looked directly at Kira and she was startled to note his eyes were a liquid, golden bronze--the color of spiced wine. She knew those eyes. They had haunted her dreams for years. Shock and recognition froze her like a stag pinned before a wolf's hot glare.
"I did not realize the Dragon Throne treated supplicants for the position of consort so shabbily." The amber gaze narrowed. "Perhaps the Royal Protector has so many able men to choose from that
she can afford to be callous."
His voice was restrained, yet Kira could hear the anger bubbling beneath it like hot lava under a thin crust of earth. She felt her lips tighten in reaction to the taunt.
"She does not," her aunt answered. The elderly woman rose, leaning lightly upon her cane. "I apologize on behalf of the Dragon Throne for our ill manners."
Kira seethed, but did not contradict her elder. She kept a wary eye upon the man's face and desperately wished she had her sinja whip at the ready. She considered her options.
Aunt Ave beckoned. "Please approach, supplicant, and be welcome."
A wet travel cloak covered his clothing and hair, but Kira knew that beneath the hood, his hair would be a wavy golden-brown, shot through with bronze. His gait was easy for a traveler fresh from long days on the road. She noted his legs were long and lean, each hard muscle accentuated by form-fitting leather trousers. Her fingers itched to stroke those firm thighs again and she clenched her fists in dismay.
Toth moved to a position mid-way between the outlander and the throne, his flat gaze evaluating the potential threat posed to the protector. Neutral changed to speculative as he considered the man standing before the throne. Then, shockingly, he grinned.
Damnation. He knows.
Kira's heart began to pound. Soon her aunt would recognize the man beneath the traveler's trappings. The woman was elderly, but her gaze was as sharp as a hawk's.
"Do remove your wet garments, candidate," urged Aunt Ave. "Kira, please assist him...as is your duty." The emphasis was clear.
Gods, no. Kira's silent plea went unanswered. Stiffly, she descended the steps from the dais to the audience floor and waited. At least she could make him meet her half way.
With casual grace, he moved before her and bent down so she could unclasp the smooth, polished oval of volcanic lava and silver that joined his cloak. Kira knew exactly how to open the tricky catch on the pin. She should. She'd given it to him five years ago.
Five years ago.
When he'd professed his love, taken her virginity, then left like a thief in the night.
The clasp slid free into her icy palms and she yanked the heavy cloak free of his shoulders. The thick wool held the spicy scent of his sweat mixed with smoke and leather. It made her body clench with traitorous recognition.
"That needs to be hung properly, Royal Protector, or it will molder," he murmured softly. "Perhaps we could adjourn to your royal bedchamber and you could help remove the rest of these wet garments?"
"Curse you, Bladen Tor," she ground out through clenched teeth. "Why have you returned? Why now?"
Bladen reached behind his head, unhooked the snow guard, and let it drop to the floor. He ran his hands back through his wavy hair and grinned his predatory smile. "Isn't it obvious, Kira? I've returned for you."
Chapter 2
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The crack of Kira's palm hitting Bladen's face echoed through the chamber.
He stood stock-still, the red imprint of her fingers darkening into sharp focus along his jaw line. "Perhaps we should conduct the rest of this supplicant's interview in private," he rasped.
Lightning-quick, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. With a yank, he pulled her flush against his chest, immobilizing her with one arm around her waist.
Kira stood head and shoulders above most women, but Bladen's sheer mass and strength held her in place like a child. It was unthinkable. She began to struggle, trying to quell her mounting anger. He had always been strong, but now he was positively muscle-bound.
"Toth!" she demanded. "Cut off his head! Hamstring him! Help me!"
"I don't think so, youngling." Aunt Ave's voice was at Kira's shoulder. "Bladen Tor deserves the right to petition for your favor like any other supplicant."
Kira twisted in Bladen's grip and gaped at her aunt with dismay. "No!"
"However," her diminutive relative continued, "due to my...hmm...frail constitution, I believe I will retire to my chambers and allow you to conduct this particular interview on your own. Toth, show Bladen to the protector's private antechamber and lock the door behind you so they're able to conduct business undisturbed."
Toth nodded, the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his thin lips.
Kira was stunned. "Aunt Ave." Her voice was a thin whisper. "Please don't make me..."
"You have two hours for your interview, younglings," her aunt's voice was cautionary. "Make good use of your time. Oh, and Bladen--" She paused and fixed him with a steely look.
Bladen deftly avoided Kira's jabbing knee. "Yes, Ave?"
"Be sure that if you and Kira come to an agreement, it is to everyone's mutual benefit." With regal grace, the Dowager Royal Protector swept from the interview room.
"This way, supplicant, protector." Straight-faced, Toth motioned toward a narrow door offset by carved ironwood. He shoved it open and pointed to another, similar door opposite at the end of a short corridor.
Bladen half-carried, half-dragged Kira down the corridor into the Royal Protector's antechamber.
"Toth, I'll have your balls on my breakfast platter." Kira's threats were muffled by the wet leather of Bladen's jerkin. She aimed an elbow at his groin and he twisted, denying her the tender target. "Both your balls, I swear it!"
Toth snorted dismissively and shut the heavy door.
The key clicked in the keyhole.
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Bladen scanned the room, noting its unique personality and evaluating its possibilities.
Kira's chamber was small but cheery, containing a low couch draped with warm furs nestled cozily before the fireplace, a scattering of small tables and their knickknacks as well as several bookcases. The single window looked out over the mountainous kingdom in all its snowy splendor.
It is good to be home again, Bladen thought.
He released his spitfire prisoner as soon as Toth secured the door behind them and studied the Royal Protector Kira with growing approval and admiration. She had blossomed into the beautiful woman her youthful body had only hinted at five years before. Bladen found the changes fascinating.
The silver-blonde hair he remembered running though his fingers and over his chest was long and thick, falling to her knees in a tight braid. Almond shaped eyes of brightest sapphire graced a slightly crooked, yet patrician nose. Kira's lips were generous, though at the moment they were pressed into a thin line as she glared at him with white-hot anger.
"What do you want, Bladen?" she demanded.
"I am only a humble supplicant, Highness," he taunted. "I've come to apply for the position of consort. I only learned of your search a short time ago, else I'd have arrived much sooner."
She made a rude sound of disbelief.
"Protector, I have returned to serve you in whatever capacity you desire." Bladen allowed one hand to drift down and over his groin, and was gratified to see her eyes fasten upon his thighs, drawn there against her will.
Kira drew her gaze away. "What I desire is for you to leave this fortress and get out of my kingdom immediately," she bit out, voice strained.
"You've grown into a beautiful, sensual woman, Kira," Bladen purred. "You'll have to tell me how I compare to your other lovers."
Kira flushed a lovely pink color. "You seem to be under the delusion you'll provide something for me to judge against," she scorned. "I assure you, I'm out of your league now, Bladen. Maybe you should just go back to wherever you've been hiding these last five years and find yourself some untried girls to deflower. That seems to be your style."
Bladen gave her his lopsided grin and nodded his approval at her acerbic tongue. She had indeed grown up. The coltish, shy girl he remembered had been replaced by a fiery, confident woman.
It wasn't just those changes that fascinated him now, though. His former lover had developed in other ways as well.
Bladen's eyes feasted upon Kira's bountiful breasts, still heaving from her impassioned attempts at escape. They were lush and firm; he felt his body swe
ll from the hot rush of blood to his extremities. He stared, mesmerized, at the twin points of her nipples jutting through the soft wool of her thigh-length tunic. As he watched, the firm points hardened and grew stiff. He offered a wolf's smile, and padded across the thick rug toward her.
"You'll do," he declared with deliberately infuriating off-handedness.
Kira scooped up a small stone carving from a nearby table and launched it at him like a shot from a crossbow.
Bladen barely ducked in time and felt the statue graze the side of his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. It shattered on the door behind him, sending splinters of rock in an arc all over the floor.
"You never could throw worth a damn, Royal Protector Kira," he mocked, and began to circle the room ducking nimbly as the statuette was followed by a glass vase, a paperweight, and a book.
She snatched up an oval platter formed of blown glass and cocked her arm, ready to throw. "I'll improve my aim by smashing in your lying face!" came the fierce reply.
"Not that one," he protested. "I've always liked that piece."
It impacted with an earsplitting crash against the wall behind his head.
"You little brat!" he shouted.
She was out of throwing ammunition.
Kira retreated backwards, past the warm fireplace and fur-shrouded leather couch, her path taking her into the corner of the room furthest from him. She bumped into a cabinet case holding old pieces of armor and stopped, waiting.
"We need to talk, Kira," Bladen urged. "It can be now, or later, after we've made up for five years of lost fucking."
She whispered something he couldn't quite catch.
