My body shivers in anticipation of that. Strange, really. I know somewhere I always had that fantasy of being just taken and forced into sex, being put into a degrading, demeaning position as the stronger man has his way with me. The thing is, you don't expect it to happen in real life. It's one thing to daydream about it and get aroused from the mere thought, it's another thing to have it happen to you physically. There has to be some consent somewhere. Either I've let down all my barriers and given strong signals to the guy to do this, or he's seduced me in such a way that I'm putty in his hands. I'm yet to experience that for myself. That is, someone speaking with such a persuasive influence that they could charm the skin off a snake. Or turn my panties into waterworks.
I suspect I'll be more nervous than I think I will be when it comes to my first time, though. And I likely won't have much say in what happens.
Maybe Melantha will have the same fate. I have no idea if Melantha has been collected for someone else, or if that Yuna actually plans to keep Melantha for herself. I think I would hate being in Melantha's position more than the one I'm currently in. I feel like Yuna's a demanding bitch, used to having her own way.
Those types of people always end up being unbearable to live with.
Although the sky around me is a visual delight, it's also terrifying to go through. If Alaric decides to do a barrel roll in the sky, I'm dropping off and plummeting to a grisly death onto the forests below. The height we're soaring at is dizzying, and makes me a little queasy. I don't like the feeling of heights, because when you look over the edge, you always feel like you're already toppling off. Sometimes your mind will even start to go through the motions, imagining what it might be like to pitch yourself off the edge, how your stomach will churn as you tumble down...
The awe and nervousness of flight dies off when the temperature settles in. Alaric flaps at a blistering pace, his wings making loud swoops of noise with every movement, and I notice the scenery below me shifting from grassy plains and long stretches of desert to snow-choked plains and snow-capped mountains. We're heading north through Canada, maybe. I mean, I assume it might be Canada because of the snows. It could be somewhere else altogether. At this point, I'm starting to wish I could be a lot warmer than how I'm currently wrapped up.
When I was kidnapped, it was getting near evening. Here, it seems to be the launch of a new afternoon, suggesting I've been knocked out a while before the auction. My stomach gives a growl, as if to confirm. Yeah. I'm hungry. That emptiness cries out for food, and I want to clutch myself, except if I do, I'll only have one hand holding onto Alaric, and I don't exactly feel safe enough for that position.
The journey continues for a while.
It would be nice if I could have had something to wrap over my body, so I wouldn't be shaking like a leaf. I don't think the dragons can speak in their animal/lizard/dinosaur forms, and I highly doubt I'd be able to hear them anyway over the roaring of the wind.
It's just a matter of waiting, and then a matter of staying conscious, because my eyes begin to droop after a while.
Eventually we start losing height.
Our destination seems to be a very snowy mountain in the near distance, over icy tundras and isolated villages, towns and cities that can barely be classed as them.
Although Alaric's scales are warm, like a mini furnace existing just underneath his skin, and they help heat up my extremities, I'm still mostly cold, and I think my cheeks are in danger of falling off my face. Even with me pressing them against his scales.
We're now above a series of cities, all located in the mountains, with glowing lights coming out of windows and uniform streets. They don't look carved by human hands, and I see different groups of civilizations all along the mountains, each with dragons circling them. It's quite the sight. Dragons everywhere – not something I see in a human city. So I know I'm far removed from anything I've ever known before. At least they have electricity, I guess. But they're so high up and so shrouded by the trees and and peaks around them that they need light. Even in late afternoon. I see dark gray clouds nearby, coasting towards us.
We land upon Alaric's mountain a short while later, now approaching late.
Ahead of me is an immense dragon city, unlike any structure I've witnessed before. Human cities tend to have a conformity to them. Roads, houses on the sides of the roads, condominiums, blocks, you know the drill. Here, houses are less like actual houses and more like caves. Caves aligned with windows, dotted in the most convenient spots possible. It gives them a haphazard structure, and almost every building is like this, except for what I can only assume is the “castle” of this huge network of caves.
The “castle” is the biggest lump out of all of them, appearing as if the top of the mountain has been filed down to get the bulbous cave I see straight ahead, since Alaric is flying towards it. Cael breaks away from Alaric. I'm not sure why. The copper dragon flies in a easterly direction, where I can also see the faint copper pinprick of Yuna. She's descending towards another mountain peak. Perhaps Yuna and Cael live there, and Alaric here. It's the only thing that makes sense to me.
I had assumed that all of them live in the same city. But if both Alaric and Cael are princes, and they once held some kind of tumultuous relationship, it probably helps if they're not that closely related. They could simply be cousins by a marriage from one of their relatives to one another, and not actually be directly linked by blood.
Call me traditional, maybe, but I don't really like the idea of relatives sleeping together. I can just about handle it in a show if it makes sense in context, but in real life? Just no.
The catacomb of caves is fascinating, honestly. I get the sense they're all interconnected, and many have roosting platforms for where the dragon can land and sleep. Some of the platforms are ornately decorated, unique perhaps to the dragon in question, like insignias or something. Each cave mouth has two entrances. A small door for human forms, and a large one for dragon forms.
When we land, it's directly outside on a raised platform before the largest building in the entire mountain-carved city. The castle. Alaric patiently waits for me to get off, and I do, tumbling down awkwardly until I dins purchase upon the ground. My legs feel like jello and I have to pace up and down a bit to get some life back into them.
Alaric transforms into his human form which has rumpled blonde hair, and gestures for me to follow. He walks down a small slope on the side that leads to a cave with an ornately carved purple symbol on its human sized door. It seems like some kind of back entrance just for humans, which makes me wonder if the dragon shifters prefer being in their human forms.
I suppose it makes sense from a space kind of issue, since making homes in a gigantic mountain would become significantly easier if people are opting to utilize their smaller human forms. It's interesting because I've gotten the impression that shifters in general hate their human forms, hate having to confine to such a form just to be able to interact peacefully with their human counterparts. Building entire cities for humans suggests otherwise – that their shifted form is the privilege, and their human form is the norm.
Or maybe this place is the exception, rather than a good example of shifter society. Mythical shifters might do things differently because their forms are so enormous. Either way, I know my thoughts are wandering, simply because a part of me suspects that once I've walked through the entrance to this bastion, I may not be coming out again. I may lose all traces of my former life as I'm forced to adapt to dragon society.
Alaric stands by that small door with a strange concentric pattern upon the center, pushes his weight against it until it swings inward. Then, he beckons for me to come inside with a grin, the kind of grin that might stop my heart on a normal day. I wish in a way this was a typical day, with my boyfriend showing me around his home for the first time. And not one where I'm a prize about to be paraded in front of his parents. Unless he's planning to skip that part and just shove me in his room..
Walking t
hrough the corridor that unravels ahead, with only a faint light illuminating the way from the little electrical bulbs strung along the sides, we eventually arrive in a cavernous room's kitchen hub. I notice the odd contrast of the room. Part of it is human sized, with furniture, drapes, a kitchen unit and other trappings which look almost modern. The other part is clearly for dragon forms, and has a huge hearth, plush cushions and scratching stones, as well as a suspicious collection of charred bones.
So there is another entrance for dragons, presumably. So maybe they just take whatever form suits their mood at the time. It does look as though the dragon form is more likely used for sleeping and perhaps a certain type of food, since the human sections show more usage than the dragon sections. I wonder if Cael and Yuna go to a place like this as well, with a little side entrance for their human forms. I'm still shivering from the cold, though it's a lot cosier here, and there is a fire crackling away. I also spot what I can only guess is a kind of house servant tending to the fire, spreading more logs upon it and stoking it so sparks of flame sputter.
The place is well tended to, with everything in order, and not nearly as many items in the living room and kitchen as my mother might have. She has a lot of things she brought because they were on offer, or that she liked the usefulness of it – even though it more than likely turned out to be useless. I'm talking multiple ways to dice carrots, cook food and store it. Hell, we even have a kind of specialized roomba that was supposed to be waterproof. For some reason. The commercial showed it mowing the lawn and navigating around rocks and fake ponds.
It didn't really work out that way, so now it's a mangled heap in the corner of the shed, with the receipt in case my mom ever thinks to go back and attempt to bully a shop assistant into refunding it for her.
Thinking of television commercials instantly depresses me. Although there's electricity in this place, there doesn't seem to be any television or computers or any signs of being able to tune into a world outside this cave. Which is depressing.
I'm already unhappy with the fact we're far too removed from human civilization for me to get in easy contact with them. Not to mention that we're on the top of a fucking mountain, with sheer descents that would likely end with me tumbling to a certain death. That's not mentioning the fact that I'm a slave and basically have no choice but to adapt or die.
Choices, am I right?
Shame Alaric has to have such a jovial human form, with those dumb blue eyes, that blonde sand-washed hair, and tanned straight-from-the-beach skin.
He examines me critically for a moment, all bedraggled in my work uniform, then says, “Well, better get you wrapped up. We'll need to introduce you to my father, and then you'll likely need to be given to Cael's father as well, so they can see the deal we've negotiated.”
Although he sounds reasonable, I recognize the tone of inflexibility in his voice. If I disobey or protest too much, he probably isn't going to act quite as friendly as he is now. Whatever the case, I'm still here for one reason.
I've been bought. For them, I'm their property. My mind wanders to my mother and father, as it seems to do a lot nowadays, wondering, panicking about how they must be taking my disappearance. My boss will be ringing up, my friends will be knocking on my door, and they'll all be consulting one another to check who last saw me, and if anything seemed out of place, like if I had some new jilted lover in my life, or if they happened to see anyone stalking me in the last week or something.
“How will your parents take to the idea of uh, sharing me with Cael?” I say. I can't help but think that if Alaric is a prince, his family would not want a princess in their lives who is essentially sleeping with two men. Unless they're not as tight on the matter as some humans would be.
“They won't be happy,” Alaric admits, blue eyes darkening. He examines me with a irritation set in his jaw. “And really, I should have been sensible and just gone for someone that Cael didn't want to fight over. Would have spent less. But, well...”
“You just wanted to prove whose dick was biggest,” I say, a foul mood overtaking me. “I suppose I should have expected that much. After all, I'm just an object to you, aren't I?”
“Yes,” Alaric says. “And a useful one, I hope. Now go and change. And I warn you. If you act up, you'll end up with someone less friendly than me or Cael. We're princes, so we can grant you luxuries in our power. But if you act up too much, we can shove you off to someone less inclined to treat you nice. Regardless of how much money we bought you for.” A rather lazy smile enters his face, and I envision slapping it off it.
Not wanting to face that asinine grin for much longer, I move to where he's pointed me to go. A sudden pang of loneliness hits me as I venture into chambers that look especially prepared for me, with a wardrobe full of thick fur robes, designed to insulate against the cold. There's gloves, thick socks, hats and a face cover as well. In the room next to my sleeping chamber, which is a four poster bed with red drapes over it, I see a room with a bathtub and intricate piping panning from the walls. Curious, I adjust one of the copper faucets, and water gushes out into the tub, rapidly steaming, leaving delicious trails of heat into the air. I let my hand dance under the water flow, letting the heat scorch me. It's just on the verge of being too much, but I find myself smiling, imagining taking a bath and warming up my shivering body.
I squeak the faucet off, before I hear Alaric's soft voice drift through the cavern. “Wait a moment. Your handmaidens will be with you shortly.”
Handmaidens? Just as I'm registering what he's said, three women dressed in thick robes filter through the chamber from corridors beyond my chambers – suggesting they're all interconnected. Whether they lead to other dragon sleeping quarters or emerge out into some intricate underground network, I'm yet to find out.
All of them bow to me and refer to me as princess. Thoroughly embarrassed, I ask them to not do that, and they act completely horrified at my suggestion.
“No, princess! We couldn't do that. You deserve only the best treatment. Come, we must prepare you to meet our king.”
I notice the handmaidens have odd colored eyes, such as red, gold, and near white. Like shifters. It's unnerving, and I don't know if I want to ask or can ask what that's all about. Can they transform into dragons? Are they defectives, and placed into such a lowly position as a result? Would someone like me have the potential to become a handmaiden like one of them as well?
The handmaidens are a little rough with me, but I don't have the stomach to resist. They run the bath, though I'd been planning to maybe skip it. They then strip me off, and I'm made to go into it, after they test with their elbows to make sure it won't sear my skin.
“I can do all of this myself,” I protest, even as my handmaidens tut.
“Well, best you don't, otherwise we'll be out of a job,” the oldest of them says. She has a rather brusque manner to her, a set way in how her jaw clamps together, which reminds me of my strictest teacher back at school. The kind where you don't even want to risk breathing in the wrong way, in case she finally decides to enact her lifelong dream of caning you in the back of the hand.
“Out of a job?” I close my eyes as a wad of shampoo drips over my forehead, and the oldest one begins massaging the mixture into my scalp. She's slightly plump, with light red eyes.
“Yes. I'd much rather work for a prissy princess then for some decaying old fossil in the lower reaches,” the woman says. “It's about time Alaric finally got himself someone. His father will be most pleased.”
“You actually enjoy a job like this?” I grimace as my hair is stretched tight, and want to squeak as one of the maids begins sponging me down, roughly cleaning between my thighs. It doesn't feel sexual at all. She does it in a methodical, rough manner that leaves my skin sore from when she finishes.
“It entirely depends on the princess. You either make our lives easy or hard. My hunch is that you're not the kind who would make it hard. Mostly because you humans tend to do everything yourselves. Es
pecially from poor families.” I crack my eyes open a fraction, hoping I don't get the pain of shampoo dribbling into my eyeball, and examine her smug expression in amazement.
I'm surprised at the direct manner of the older woman. I have a sneaking suspicion that being this straightforward with other people would get them in trouble.
“That's true,” I say. “So you just want to... do things to make sure you have it easy?”
The other two maids are super nervous at this talk, like they're listening to something clandestine and forbidden. They're likely far newer to this occupation. I notice the one that's scrubbing my body seems to have a glazed look, as if she's trying incredibly hard not to focus on any particular detail on me.
“Sure,” I say. “It doesn't matter to me. I don't really want to be here. If you want a nice cushy time, then by all means, I'll sit back and not pick up my own trash. Though I think I'd like to scrub myself next time, because you feel like sandpaper against my skin.” I direct this to the youngest maid with her gold eyes, and she flushes.
“S-sorry.” She drops the sponge in the bath. The third maid has a razor.
Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel Page 5
