Dragon's Vow

by J. D. Monroe

  A female soldier stepped forward, locking her arms around the struggling woman’s neck. Standing aside, they watched as Kaldir kicked the door in. The room beyond was dark with only vague outlines of furniture. At once, they both ignited globes of flame to light the way. The flickering flames illuminated wooden workbenches strewn about, some stacked with leather sacks and food stores.

  Moving quickly and quietly, Kaldir led the way through the room toward a staircase. The stone stairs led down to a storage cellar. A neat array of glass bottles were still arranged in the diamond-shaped cubbies, along with several large casks that had been left behind. Half a dozen figures milled around, all snapping to attention as the troop of dragons stormed into their cellar.

  Chaos broke out as they descended the steps. Kaldir bellowed as he dove into combat. His sword was impossible to follow, a glinting dance of silver through the air. He struck down the closest enemy combatant, slashing across the back of her thigh and sending her to the ground in a spray of blood.

  Directly opposite the stairs that had brought them in was a stone archway, and beyond it a dark maw that descended deeper beneath the ground. Two of the Thorn ran for the exit. Zayir growled under his breath and released tongues of flame from each hand. Heat billowed through him, searing up his throat and through his veins. Flame slithered through the air like serpents, then joined in the doorway to form a fiery wall. The two attempted escapees staggered backward from the fire, turning to give him a murderous glare. One drew a sword, but before she even got the blade free one of the Ironblade was on her.

  He left Kaldir and his soldiers to handle the Thorn while he ran for a wooden door beyond the rack of abandoned wine bottles. The door was locked, but its handle broke away under his grasp. Yanking the door open, he found a small storage chamber. Inside, a petite woman with blonde hair huddled beneath a shelf, her wrists chained with silver manacles to a matching pair on her ankles. A rough-looking piece of fabric was shoved into her mouth. Her dark eyes met his, flitting back and forth in fear. The smell of Edra blood was thick in the tiny room.

  He knelt and pulled the fabric from her mouth. “Are you Yfeda? Pamin’s sister?”

  She let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “I didn’t help them. And she was only trying to keep me safe. Whatever happened, please don’t blame her.”

  “I know,” he said. He knelt and felt at the edge of the manacles, testing them. Even for him, it would take a considerable effort to tear through the metal with his bare hands. “I don’t know if I can easily break these, but I’m going to see that you’re safe. Do you know who I am?” She shook her head. He smiled gently. “That’s probably better. I want you to stay in here until someone comes for you. Can you do that? I promise it won’t take long.” She nodded.

  He backed out of the storage room, closing the door behind him. In the cellar, the chaos had come to a halt. He heard the groans of the injured, along with the harsh orders of the Ironblade. Weapons clattered to the ground as the Thorn disarmed themselves. Two soldiers stood at the open door where his wall of flame had burned. He gestured over his shoulder. “Storage closet. Protect the woman there.” One of them nodded and darted toward the storage room.

  “Fuck you!” a gruff male voice spat. “I would—” His words trailed into a groan as Kaldir sank his fist into his gut. The man sagged between the two Ironblade holding him up, gasping for air.

  “Are you in charge?” Zayir asked mildly as he approached.

  Despite being at the mercy of the Ironblade, the man wore a defiant sneer, his head held high. A gleaming silver blade protruded just beneath his collarbone, preventing him from shifting. “I’m in charge.”

  “Then you must be Dholgas,” Zayir said. The man’s eyes widened a little. “Do you know who I am?”

  The man sneered. “The spoiled prince who sniffs after his sister’s skirts.”

  Zayir laughed. “I’m sorry, did you expect me to be offended? I’ve heard far worse. Some from my own wife.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you attempt to kill the princess?”

  “I did what was necessary.”

  Without breaking eye contact, Zayir slowly twisted the silver blade. Dholgas groaned, trailing into a rising cry of pain that echoed from the walls. “I’ll ask again. Did you attempt to kill the princess?”

  “I sent someone,” he groaned. “You will pay.”

  “What’s he going to pay for?” a female voice rang out. He smelled her before she reached the cellar; her familiar earthy Edra scent was tinged with bitterness, perhaps from the venom running in her veins. Dholgas stared in disbelief as Ohrena descended the stairs, her coat flowing behind her. She found her place between him and Kaldir so she could stare directly into the man’s eyes. “You claim to serve the needs of the Edra, but you harmed an innocent, manipulated a loyal servant, and tried to kill me.”

  “It was for the greater good.”

  “It was an act of war against my people,” Zayir said.

  Dholgas sneered. “She’s not your people.”

  He reached out and grasped the man’s stubbled jaw, digging his fingers into the pressure point at the joint. Dholgas grimaced, trying to pull away, but Zayir held him fast. “She is mine to protect, as are the Edra of Firlanyn. I will allow you one chance at mercy. If you throw it away, do not blame me. The lands of Strynym to the east have long been abandoned. The queen has no interest in claiming them, nor does Firlanyn. Take them. If you truly wish only to be left alone, then go there and make good.”

  “If you continue on this course, we will treat it as an act of war,” Ohrena said. She surveyed the others. There were four other Edra in the room, two of whom were conscious and staring up at the point of a sword. “Do you hear me? All of you?”

  “You don’t speak for all of the Edra,” a woman spat.

  “Nor do you,” Ohrena said. “I do speak for myself, and I speak for Firlanyn in this moment. You attempted to incite war by using me as a pawn. If the council of Firlanyn learns of this, there will be no safe refuge for you.” She drew a deep breath through her nose, as if to tell them she knew their scent. “No safe refuge. Not in Strynym. Not anywhere under the sky. Do you understand me?”

  Dholgas nodded though there was still hatred burning in his golden eyes. “I understand.”

  “Tell your compatriots,” Ohrena said. “The Thorn are unwelcome here. Should you wish to simply be Edra, to be a part of our kin without destroying us from within, then you may. But the Thorn is dead and buried today.”

  Zayir released Dholgas’s jaw. “Take your injured. Leave now.”

  “But we—”

  “Now,” Zayir said. “Walk out of this place, directly to the gates of the city, and never look back. If I see you again, I will see to it that your death is far worse than the one you planned for my wife.”

  Her husband’s face was alight with excitement as they returned to the palace. Kaldir and two other soldiers escorted them back, while the remaining soldiers lingered to make sure that the Thorn cleared out of the distillery. Two dragons flew low over the street, sending an ominous message as the would-be conspirators slunk out of the city.

  Ohrena wasn’t certain that allowing the Thorn to live was objectively correct, but it felt right. Even after the attempt on her life, she couldn’t bring herself to call for their deaths. She only hoped that their choice to show mercy would not come back to haunt them.

  Night still cloaked Ironhold in pleasant, quiet dark. A cold breeze bit at her bare skin as they hurried home. Back at the palace, Kaldir and his subordinates escorted Yfeda to the barracks, where she would be reunited with Pamin. He sent a messenger to the queen and assured Zayir that the rest could be dealt with in the morning.

  With the prickly matter of the Thorn handled, Ohrena trailed after Zayir as they climbed the stairs to their chambers. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a smudge of soot on his cheek, a rare imperfection. She liked the hint of chaos, as well as the glint of excitement in his eyes.

  He waited
at her door, looking down at her with a rakish grin. “You were quite impressive this evening.”

  Her heart thumped as she looked up at him. “I didn’t frighten you?”

  “I’m not sure frighten is the right word.”

  She smirked at him. “May I speak openly?”

  “Please do.”

  “I’d like for you to come to bed with me,” she said. His full lips parted, and she felt the subtle tickle of heat around him.

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Ohrena. All of this has made me tired. Perhaps tomorrow if I’m feeling well.” Her jaw dropped, and she prepared to paste on a neutral expression when his lips split into a smile. “Gods above, I’m kidding.”

  She chuckled and grabbed the sides of his oiled leather armor as he shoved the door open behind her. “Careful how you tease, husband.”

  He followed her into the room, already pulling at the intricate buckles on the side of his armor. His amber eyes glittered with mischief as he bumped the door closed behind him. “It’s quite tempting to make you wait another week, all things considered. But I’d be punishing myself just as much, and I don’t have nearly that much restraint.” He tossed the cuirass onto the floor and grabbed her waist, pulling her close. There was a pleasant firmness in his groin already, pressing between her legs. As he bent his head to kiss her, she fumbled at the ties securing his tunic, peeling away the fabric to reveal the smooth bronze skin beneath.

  “Should I be worried that you’ll bite me?” he asked, darting away from her searching lips.

  “Perhaps.” She nipped playfully at his bare chest, prompting a peal of laughter as her teeth grazed him. “Tell me what you want. Speak openly.”

  “I will be starting a bath. And I want you lying on that bed without a stitch of clothing by the time I come out,” he replied as he extricated himself from her grasp. A thrill of nerves ran down her spine as she watched him saunter toward the shared bath. There was a quiet rushing sound as he drew water into the large tub.

  She’d been frightened the first time she’d gone into his room, eager to please but afraid of what he would ask. Her body was aflutter once again, but it was with nervous anticipation, not fear. The insistent throb between her legs demanded his touch, and she was more than happy to comply with his demands. She was still carefully unwinding her thick braid when he emerged from the bath with a glass bottle in hand. To her disappointment, he still wore pants.

  His face fell in an expression of mock horror as his amber eyes swept over her. “I believe you had instructions, dear wife.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to remind me,” she said. He strode across the room to her, but before she could rise on her toes to kiss him, he pulled her backwards into him, arms locked tight around her. She shivered at the feel of his hardness grinding slowly into her.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you,” he said, running his tongue along the outer curve of her ear.

  She frowned and looked back at him. Had she misjudged him after all? “Punish me?”

  “Lie down,” he said, his expression unreadable. A blend of fear and curiosity swept over her. He’d said the rumors of his proclivities were untrue, but perhaps he was trying to keep from frightening her. With her heart pounding, she climbed onto his bed and let him push her down onto her belly. His hands were gentle as they traced over her back, over the contours of her buttocks, and down her thighs. As his fingers grazed her inner thigh, she drew a sharp breath, but he continued downward, until he found the sole of her foot. Then he released her. “I’ll just have to make you wait a bit longer for this, you wicked woman.”

  His strong hands were suddenly on her back, massaging in a warm oil that seeped into her muscles. “What a terrible punishment,” she said dreamily, writhing into his touch. “You truly are a brute.”

  “Lie still, you disobedient creature,” he said playfully. His hands worked down to her hips, strong thumbs pressing into the tight muscles around her spine. “Everything you’ve heard is true. I’m dreadful, and you are in for a lifetime of misery.”

  “I knew it,” she said. “I’m not sure I can bear such torment.”

  “If you wish to please me, you’ll have to learn to withstand it,” he said. His hands moved lower, massaging her thighs. He pressed her down as he leaned in to kiss the small of her back, still kneading into her soft skin. His warm breath on her oiled skin made her shiver with delight. Then he reached for her waist, turning her over to face him. Anxiety stitched through her as his amber eyes surveyed her, too close to hide from his intense gaze. He shook his head. “I’m not sure I have the willpower for this, Ohrena.”

  “For what?”

  “To resist you,” he said. “This is too much for one man to withstand.”

  “You could be done with your punishment,” she said, teasing at his groin with her foot. With a wicked grin, he caught her ankle, then began rubbing oil into her calf.

  “No. I would only be teaching you the wrong thing,” he said. His hands roamed up her calves, over her thighs, pulling them apart to expose her. Her back arched slightly as he leaned in, then diverted his head at the last second to kiss the soft outer curve of her hip. He was a cruel tease, denying her at the very last second. As he moved upward, his thumb grazed her sex, sending a bolt of pleasure straight up her spine.

  “And that would be dreadful,” she said. He leaned back, watching her with an inquisitive look as he gently worked his hands over her breasts. Each slow, deliberate caress was like a stroke from a bellows, stoking the flame burning deep inside her. “I want you. Stop teasing me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Teasing you? I would never. Besides, I haven’t gotten what I wanted yet,” he said. He leaned back, hungry eyes sweeping over her body. She felt utterly safe and desired, which she had never expected from him.

  “And what do you want?”

  His graceful hands roamed lower, pushing her legs apart as he situated himself in front of her. Still clothed, he teased his thumbs along the slick entrance. She gasped, her hips thrusting toward him. “I think I’ll find it here. What do you think?”

  Then the gentle, tortuously slow exploration ended as his deft fingers circled and teased at her, finding the tender nub that felt like a raw nerve under his masterful touch. In a kaleidoscope of sensation, his fingers moved inside her. She let out a low whimper as her back arched.

  “Ah,” he said. “There’s what I wanted.”

  “You only had to ask,” she panted, pushing her hips closer to him. “Speak plainly when you want something, dear.”

  “Perhaps I should speak a different language for you,” he said. He bowed his head, and as his lips covered her, her mind careened into a place of feverish madness and desperation. His tongue was relentless, speaking plainly his desire and driving her toward the edge. She had lost all capacity for words. More, more was all she could think. The fiery pleasure came in pulsing waves, pulling into an incredible tension that suddenly coalesced into that one tiny bundle of white-hot sensation. Time seemed to stop, frozen in a moment of raw pleasure before it rocketed through her and drove the air from her lungs in a cry of joy.

  When she opened her eyes, he was pulling away from her, and she felt agonizingly empty and cold without his touch. How dare you, she thought irrationally. But his eyes were pinned on her as he shook off his pants, unveiling his flawless body and the firm erection that was ready for her.

  “Now that you’ve been taught an important lesson, what is it that you want, wife of mine?” Zayir asked, running his slick hands over her thighs. Without warning, she looped her legs around his waist, prompting a burst of laughter as he tumbled onto her.

  “I want you to make up for lost time,” she replied. “Consider this my enthusiastic request.”

  With a wolfish grin, he teased at her, prompting another convulsive shiver. She gasped as he entered her. Finally. Thanks to his ministrations, she was warm and ready for him, eager for the full sensation. He was quiet as he began to move. His eyes
were alert and inquisitive, like he was watching for any sign of fear. That gentleness only made her want him more.

  “You won’t hurt me,” she said, gripping his shoulder. Quiet, breathy noises escaped him as he rocked into her, each time sending a shock of pleasure cascading through her body. His body was a masterpiece, muscles rippling in sinuous waves with each thrust. His eyes searched hers, and she simply said, “More.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Enthusiastically so,” she replied. With a maddening growl, he grabbed her behind the knees and hiked her legs high and wide. Each stroke found a new electrified spot inside her. Gripping his broad shoulders tightly, she threw her head back and let the delicious sensation overtake her.

  You are all mine, she thought. He was unfettered, unrestrained by his own fear, and it was driving her mad.

  It was nearly overwhelming, jolting her body, but still she wanted more of him, wanted him imprinted on every cell of her body. The pressure growing inside of her was immense, something she’d never felt before. It gripped her lungs, arching her back like a bow, then exploded through her in sheer, senseless bliss. Floating in a hazy afterglow, she was only barely aware as he finished.

  The harsh rasp of his breathing broke through her dreamy haze. “Are you all right?” she asked without moving. He loomed over her, releasing her legs to lay closer to her. The blazing heat of his skin against hers was divine.

  “I think so,” he said. “Are you pleased?”

  “Several times over,” she said. He laughed, an unguarded expression that made her want to freeze the moment and sculpt him from stone. There was such beauty in him when he let his joy show.