Dragon's Vow

by J. D. Monroe

  “Then why did you reject me?” She wanted to pull back the question as soon as it spilled from her tongue, fearing his response.

  He tilted his head. “I tried to make it clear. Are you here in my lands because you truly want to be? Were you in my bedroom because that was your heart’s true desire?”

  “You oversimplify this,” she said. “If it was entirely my choice to shape the world, then no, I imagine I wouldn’t be here. I would likely be at home in Val Legarra. But I was not brought here kicking and screaming, either. I chose to come here.”

  “I could hear your heart racing every time I got near you,” he said. “You were frightened of me.”

  “I was nervous,” she said. “A little scared, but not of you. With all the rumors about you—”

  “Largely exaggerated.”

  She chuckled. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “But did you actually want to make love to me?”

  “I wanted you to be pleased with me,” she said. “And if that was what you wanted, I was willing to do it.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” He shook his head. “Ohrena, I have never been with anyone who didn’t enthusiastically want to be with me. Being willing is very different from wanting. I sensed the tension in you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of looking into your eyes and finding fear instead of pleasure.”

  “So you were doing me a kindness?”

  “I thought I was,” he said. “But I did it poorly, and I hurt your feelings. I am truly sorry for that, and I hope you can forgive me. For what it’s worth, you are exceptionally beautiful. It was not a lack of attraction to you, I can assure you.”

  It was vain, but it pleased her to know he found her beautiful. “It did hurt my feelings, and I realized that I wasn’t sure what I wanted. But if we are being open, then I must admit that I was a tiny bit relieved, but at the same time, disappointed.”

  “Why disappointed?”

  “Because I wished to please you, and—”

  “Speak plainly,” he said.

  She tilted her head. “Because I find you quite interesting. You are not the mask you present to the world. And if I can be so bold, because you are quite attractive. The thought of sleeping with you is not an unpleasant one.” She sighed. “This arrangement makes things more complicated. If I show interest in you now, will you think I am only angling for your favor and trying to give you what you want? Will we keep playing games and speaking in circles?”

  He rose to his knees, moving closer to her. “Tell me what you want. Don’t tailor it to please me. Just say exactly what you desire, right in this moment.”

  “I want you to kiss me,” she replied, not knowing where the bold words came from. “But only if you want to, not because—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, lips blazing hot as his mouth captured hers. Her nerves were aflame as his hand trailed over her jaw, holding her gently as he pulled away. It was only a taste, and somehow it was everything she had hoped.

  She leaned in, teasing another kiss from him. He opened for her, exploring her tongue with his. There was such carnal simplicity in that sinuous dance, warmth and skin and wetness. Her skin tingled as he nipped gently at her lower lip.

  “What do you want, my prince?” she asked.

  He grasped her hips tight and lifted her into his lap. She was pleasantly surprised to feel the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against her. “I want you,” he replied, still gripping her hips close to him as he kissed the line of her jaw. His lips trailed downward, over her throat and to the ridge of her collarbone. Heat surged down her spine, and she moved slowly against him. His grasp on her hips tightened. “Careful.”

  “Or?”

  “You may get more than you bargained for,” he replied. His hands roamed across her chest, pulling at the loose, wrap tunic that she’d worn in her workshop. “This is different for you.”

  Self-conscious all of a sudden, she brushed a hand over her ponytail. “I was working in the workshop and…” She gasped in surprise as his warm fingers brushed the tight bud of her breast, circling slowly. He’d made quick work of the top, baring her to him. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d craved his touch until she finally had it. “I didn’t know how to dress for the occasion.”

  “I like it. It seems more suited to you. I like seeing you being yourself instead of what you think I want. Tell me what you want from me.”

  “I want you.” She squeezed her thighs against his, and he pushed himself against her, reminding her of his readiness.

  “Be specific,” he said, now caressing her breasts with large hands. “No more games.”

  With a wicked look, she grabbed both his wrists and pulled them away, though she instantly regretted the absence of his touch. His amber eyes went wide as she slid off his lap to kneel on the stone. “Then I want you to take off that damned robe, husband of mine.”

  His lips curved into a wicked smile as he opened it, revealing the beautiful body beneath. The flicker of the everlight cast the lean muscle into sharp relief. Thin scars marked his chest, the evidence of battles long past. “And what shall I do now, oh wife of mine?”

  Never breaking eye contact, she reached for his length and stroked him slowly, watching his face with rapt fascination. His eyes widened, lips parting slightly as his hips twitched forward. “You sit back and relax,” she said as she knelt in front of him.

  “You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me for what happened.”

  “I know. I thought we were still speaking openly,” she said. She let her fingers graze his smooth, muscular thighs, relishing the way his muscles jumped at her touch. “Are we?”

  His burning amber gaze found hers. “We are.”

  “Then listen when I speak and listen well. I want to touch you. I want to taste you. I want to obliterate your senses, until the only thought in your head is of me. If you don’t want that, you’d better say so.”

  His jaw dropped slightly.

  “Is that enthusiastic enough for you?” she said, lowering her head.

  “I mean, if you want…”

  His playful banter trailed into a groan as she took him deep into her mouth, sucking her cheeks tight around his length. The powerful muscles in his thighs shifted beneath her hands. She smiled around him with smug satisfaction. His skin tasted faintly of smoke and salt, of the flame that burned deep within him.

  She withdrew, agonizingly slow over the tip until her lips barely lingered on him. Each word she spoke brought her lips to the warm skin. “Now, husband of mine. Speak openly. Tell me how you feel.”

  “Like I’m falling,” he said. She stroked him lightly with one hand, watching as the muscles in his flat belly twitched. His body’s reaction to her touch was hypnotizing, displaying the pleasure cascading through him.

  “Now, are you just willing, or are you wanting?”

  “Wanting. Very much,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  “Then don’t be quiet, husband of mine. What was it you said? Enthusiastic, I believe,” she said before resuming the sweet torment. His breathing quickened, with short gasps on the heels of a low groan.

  “Fucking hell,” he panted. With her free hand, she ran her short nails along the inside of his thigh. He jolted forward with a tiny yelp of surprise, bumping his hips up into her face and nearly choking her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m sorry.”

  Gasping for breath, she sat back for a moment. As she caught her breath, she laughed aloud. “Apparently you’re ticklish.”

  “I am so sorry,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern. He was flustered. The charming, ever-poised prince was falling apart at the seams, and she loved every second of it. “I was—”

  His eyes fluttered as she grasped him again, lowering her head to run her lips across his head. “Now I know,” she said. “Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.”

  His amber eyes drifted to her, and as he made eye contact, she slowly took him into her mouth once more, as deep as s
he could manage. As she did, she let out a hungry moan, as if she was devouring the best meal of her life. His jaw dropped as he watched, and as she had commanded, he didn’t break eye contact. “Ohrena,” he murmured. Her jaw ached slightly with the effort of taking him in, but she didn’t mind, not with the feel of his pulse racing just beneath his warm skin.

  Inrada had given her advice back when she was seeing Arimohn, though her tips and tricks had been to help a man finish faster so it would be over with sooner. “Then you can really have some fun,” she had said with a knowing grin.

  But Ohrena had found that despite the slight discomfort, there was a unique pleasure in this, in being entirely in control of Zayir. Every twitch of his muscles, each shallow breath and barely suppressed noise, all of it belonged to her. He said her name over and over like he was praying. She might have been on her knees, but the great flame prince was clay in her hands. Without question, she was his queen.

  “Ohrena, I’m going to…” His muscles tensed suddenly, and she grasped him gently as the salty warmth spilled over her tongue. She let him finish, still gently caressing him until his arched spine relaxed again. Sitting back on her heels, she calmly ran her thumb over her lip before swallowing quietly. His amber eyes widened. “I did not expect that from you.”

  “You misjudged me, just as I misjudged you,” she said. Kneading her fingers into his hard thighs, she stared into his eyes. There was wonder in his expression as he gazed back. “I don’t expect you to love me. But there is no reason that our arrangement should be cold and distant. If we want to have sex, then we should. I imagine we’ll both be much happier.”

  “Then you should take off those clothes right now,” he said. He lunged toward her, bearing her down to her back against the stone.

  She let out a peal of laughter as raw desire rippled between her legs. His large body pinned her hips down as he braced his arms on either side of her. “Why? What do you intend to do?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking I might feast upon you until you forget your own name.”

  The mere thought of it nearly broke her resolve. He kissed her neck greedily, starting to move downward. She grabbed his shoulders, and for a split second he looked hurt. “I think that sounds delightful. And I encourage it,” she said. “Tonight. Not now.”

  “But I want to now,” he said. His strong hand drifted over her stomach, grazed her thigh, and settled into the blazing heat between her legs. “And clearly so do you.”

  She moaned quietly and moved her hands to his face. If she didn’t stop him now, then she would lose her senses. And if he was hungry for her now, making him wait a few hours would make him insane. Grasping the rough, stubbled line of his jaw, she held him firmly. “You can’t have everything you want, my prince.”

  “Are you telling me no?”

  “I’m telling you not right now,” she said.

  His jaw dropped in disbelief. “Why?”

  “I want you think about it for the next few hours,” she said.

  His hand pressed into her, sure and strong. His cocky grin widened as she lifted her hips to meet him, legs clamping down onto his hand. “Are you sure? Not even a little taste for now?”

  “Not even a taste,” she breathed. With resolve she didn’t know she had, she reached down for his hand and plucked it away from herself, entwining her fingers through his.

  He groaned. “We’re to eat dinner with the court tonight. It’ll take hours. Hours of misery.”

  “My goodness,” she murmured. “Won’t that be distracting?”

  “You are truly a wicked woman,” he replied. “I propose a renegotiation of this arrangement.”

  “Denied,” she said. She closed her top to cover her breasts, prompting a defeated sigh. It thrilled her to see how disappointed he was, like a little boy being told no to dessert. “I’ll be looking forward to tonight.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Then so will I.”

  Zayir Moltenheart felt like a naughty teenager as he sat at his sister’s table and watched Ohrena drink from an ornate silver goblet with the same lips that had just been wrapped around him hours earlier. It was a good thing she sat across from him. If she was next to him, he’d have his hand up her skirt, formal dinner be damned.

  His heart raced as he contemplated taking her into his bed. There was little to imagine; she’d shown him the masterpiece of her naked form already. He’d just been too stupid and presumptuous to appreciate it. Perhaps he would punish her for making him wait until after this interminable dinner. Oh yes. He would tease her with his touch, exploring every inch of her until she begged for him. His blood stirred at the thought, at the beautiful image of her cheeks flushed, back arched and skin glistening with sweat as he made love to her.

  “What do you think, my prince?” Ohrena said calmly. “You’ve been so very quiet.”

  He startled, afraid she’d somehow seen the images in his mind. He had no clue what she was talking about, and judging by her playful expression, she knew it. “I think your judgment would be far better than mine, my dear.”

  She smirked. “I had thought you—”

  The wooden doors to the dining room flew open with a bang. Zayir sobered, watching as Kaldir dashed down the central aisle. Behind him, a neat formation of eight Ironblade soldiers followed, spreading out to cover the table. Zayir surveyed the room, instinctively breathing deep to stoke the fire in his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked. Even as he spoke, he was noting the exits.

  “We must go,” Kaldir said. His dark hair was disheveled. “My queen, come with me.”

  “What is it?” Zayir asked.

  His friend glanced at him, his expression focused and somber. “There is an attack in the Veins. I want everyone secure.”

  Zayir beckoned to Ohrena. “We have to go,” he said. She nodded and left her dinner, gathering up her flowing skirt to hurry around the table to him.

  “Where are we going?” his niece Shadiah asked.

  “We are going on an adventure. We must be very quick and very quiet,” Zayir said smoothly, bending to pick her up. With her balanced on his hip, he offered his free hand to Ohrena. Ahead of them, Kaldir led the pack, with four of the Ironblade surrounding Tarim and her husband. Zersekh carried Izarel, their other daughter. His sister looked back, eyes wide with fear as she searched. “I have her,” he called. Tarim nodded, then reached up to stroke Izarel’s hair as they followed Kaldir.

  Let it be anything but the Thorn. If this was an attack, the tiny bit of peace he’d made with Ohrena would fall apart.

  Ohrena’s hand gripped his tightly as they hurried out of the dining room, following Kaldir down a narrow side hallway. Zayir listened, trying to hear the sounds of a struggle, but heard only the noisy scuffle of feet and quiet conversation in the halls. Shadiah laid her head on his shoulder, arms slung around his neck. He kissed her cheek, squeezing her tight for reassurance.

  The narrow hall ended at what appeared to be a large sitting room, easily twice the size of the one where he and Ohrena took breakfast. On the opposite wall from the heavy wooden doors was a beautiful painting of the Skymother, her silver form soaring over the Azure Peaks. Kaldir approached the painting and pressed in one of the glittering silver talons. On the opposite end of the painting, a seam opened to reveal a hidden doorway.

  “Wow,” Ohrena murmured. He spared a look at his wife. He hated that his old suspicion had come back, but he couldn’t help himself. Would they regret showing her the secret location?

  “Inside,” Kaldir said. With his sword drawn, he stood in the middle of the room and kept watch while the family bustled into the chamber. Beyond the painting was a saferoom with thick stone walls and magical warding engraved into the stone. Simple furniture was arranged there, with just enough cushion that its inhabitants would be moderately comfortable.

  “Go on,” Zayir said, leading Ohrena to one of the seats. He deposited his niece next to her. “Shadiah, do you know where we went today? We saw the Skymother’s C
rown.” Her little eyes widened. It was uncanny how much she resembled Tarim. “Why don’t you tell Ohrena about when I took you there?”

  “Zayir, what’s—” Ohrena began.

  “So, Uncle Zayir flew me up into the cave, and it was so pretty. We saw a bug, and then there was a snake, but he scared it away,” Shadiah began. Like most small children, Shadiah could stretch the story for hours.

  Ohrena shot him a glare, but he turned away, catching Kaldir’s arm before he left. The other man’s arm was tense and blazing hot in his grasp. His friend was ready for battle. “What’s going on?” Zayir asked.

  “My patrols are skirmishing with the Thorn in the tunnels,” Kaldir said quietly. “Not far from here. It could just be the Thorn making noise, but they could be coming here.”

  “I’ll come with you,” he said.

  Kaldir shook his head. His amber eyes flitted to Tarim and back to Zayir. “I would gladly accept your aid, but your sister threatened to castrate me if I let you sneak out to fight with me again.”

  Zayir sighed. “She wouldn’t.”

  “It’s not your balls at risk,” Kaldir replied. “Stay here. Defend them if needed. Entertain them if not.” He clapped Zayir’s shoulder. “Be safe, my friend. I’ll be back soon.”

  Across the room, Tarim had Izarel in her lap, talking to her quietly. Her eyes rose to meet Zayir’s, and she subtly tilted her head. On the way, he picked up his niece to spare Ohrena from the endless tale of their trip. As soon as he sat down next to Tarim, Shadiah climbed into his lap. Out of habit, he combed the loose waves of hair back from her face, braiding them loosely to distract her. “What’s going on?” Tarim asked in Edra. Her eyes flitted to the girls. “I don’t want them frightened.”

  “Attack in the tunnels,” he responded in Edra. Across the room, he caught a glimpse of Ohrena tilting her head like she was listening in. “Kaldir thinks it’s the Thorn. We’ll wait it out.”