by Lucas, Naomi
Pain like lightning shoots through my head, and I cry out. But I remember the dragon and I hush.
I wait, listening, wondering if he’s still around, if he even heard me, but as nothing tackles me, I start to calm. The more I calm, the more tired I become. Part of me wants to curl up and sleep, hoping I’ll wake up later, pain-free and back in my hut. If only life were that easy.
Move, Milaye. You can’t stay here. You’re not safe.
Clenching my teeth, I fight the exhaustion and rise into a sitting position. My head clouds. Luckily, I still have my supplies with me, and I tug forward the satchel strapped to my back. Digging through it, I feel for my bag of herbs and pull it out.
One by one, I sniff them until I find the one I’m looking for. Crushed Mermaid’s Breath. A strong underwater flower the merfolk brings us that dulls pain. I gather saliva in my mouth and pinch some of the herb onto my tongue. I squinch, swallowing it.
It leaves a bad taste behind, but that’s the least of my concerns.
By the time I put the herb away and strap my bag tight to my shoulder, my head and bruised body have already numbed out.
Now, it’s time to move.
I slowly pull myself to my feet, keeping my arms forward to search the area directly around me. Dust and dirt fall off my skin.
I fell by the ledge. If I can find it again, maybe I’ll discover my way out.
A groan reaches my ears, and I stiffen.
It’s so quiet, had I actually heard something? I wait and am about to move forward when I hear it again. It’s low and short and makes my chest constrict. My skin rises, and I take a step in the sound’s direction before I realize what I’m doing.
It’s him. Instinctively, I know it’s him.
My dragon.
I picture his giant body, purple and black with scales like jewels, and my heart races. Beautiful, enchanting, and deadly.
He wasn’t dead though.
A touch couldn’t bring something back to life. As a huntress who has taken much life and seen my fair share of death, I know this.
But I did touch him and know what that means. Anxiety and excitement fill me. I touched him. Even if it had been by accident. Haime touched him too.
Though I know I’m the one who’s bonded.
He’s mine. He’s alive, and he’s mine. All that I’ve heard from Aida and Issa about their dragon bonds comes crashing back to me. That the dragon no longer exists, but a male does in its place. If I die, he dies, and if he dies, I die. That there is no way to sever the bond, and we’re now mated for life, whether we want to be or not.
I could have a family. My body shakes. I could have the adoring gaze of a child looking up at me. Me. Because I would be its mother. I could be wanted, truly wanted, and not just another female of the tribe, a woman to be overlooked because she’s only as good as what she can provide for others.
I’m almost stupefied into excitement, hope—and a fair amount of renewed worry—when another one of my dragon man’s pained groans reaches my ears. My hand clutches my chest where the heat within builds.
I—I can’t leave him behind.
I physically can’t. The thought disturbs me. All I want to do is journey deeper into this dark, dangerous hole and find him, even if I die in the process. I take a step forward, now that I’m paying attention, I know exactly what direction he’s in. It must be the bond.
Zaeyr and Aida are never more than thirty feet away from each other, and only when one of them is chasing after their children. They told me once that it’s unnatural to be any farther apart, like a deep, uncomfortable coldness takes hold inside. And that pain has only worsened over the years.
Spanning my arms out, I partially crouch and make my way deeper, listening intently for more groans.
I come across rocks and boulders and stub my foot numerous times with pieces that have fallen. The ground is no longer level. I slide my feet forward carefully so as not to accidentally trip into a gap.
Another groan reaches my ears. My heart quickens, and I struggle to keep my safe, slow pace. An aroma fills my nostrils, heady and wild. Like what a midnight storm might smell like, if it had a smell. I breathe it in and nearly moan from delight.
His scent is intoxicating.
The warmth in my chest descends to my sex. I clench. It does so with every inhale. My mind muddles. I shouldn’t want to mate right now… but I desperately do. I press my hands to my pelvis, eager to reach under my skirt and seek relief—but I stop myself.
What’s wrong with me? I breathe in the male’s midnight storm again, unable to do otherwise. I grow wet, and my arousal slickens my thighs. In moments, I’m dripping and ready.
He could be grotesque—a monster—and I’d still want to mate him, just from the way he smells. As if his male spice was created for me and me alone.
And as if he knows what’s happening to me, he groans again, and this time it’s long and winded. His breaths have quickened like my heart. I listen to him as I drop to my knees and crawl forward.
My hands find him, and I stop.
His groans have stopped too.
7
Drazak Succumbs
Pain rips through me as I lie in the dark, still unable to move. Recalling the human’s touch is the only thing that brings my mind respite.
Because I moved. Her touch changed me but it also powered over the strength of the poison.
I lost my majestic body, but for a short time, I moved. I felt again. Any misgivings that I had about dying paralyzed in an unknown body are gone. I will gratefully be human if I could move freely again.
My wings shifted, my legs stretched out, and for a glorious second, I thought I might rise from this dark prison and ascend into the sky. Retake my territory. Reclaim my land and reek terror on all within.
I tasted blissful freedom.
Instead of breaking through the ground, roaring to the heavens in triumph, my body convulsed in on itself, my wings folded into my skin, and my teeth fell from my mouth. Pain came next, unlike I have ever known, breaking my mind, and through it all, I could hear the human… Humans, I correct, through it all. There were two. And though one smelled enticing, the other was strangely scented of my kind.
They ran from my torment after causing it, leaving me to my fate.
They had run, but first, one of them bonded with me. I hope it is the one whose smell I’d dared enjoy.
Luckily, the cave fell apart without killing me. If I could move once, I can do so again. Perhaps the venom will not affect me as a human the same way it had as a dragon.
Once the pain of my transformation is gone, I will my new limbs to tense. And for a moment, they do. I continue, even when my new body tires.
Eventually, the last of the rocks fall, and the cave grows quiet as I work my muscles. I do not know how much time has passed since my change, but I know I am no longer as strong as I used to be. I stop straining and listen to the last bits of dust and dirt drop from above. Some of it lands on my new, naked flesh.
I am cold, I realize. I have never felt cold before.
But I am hot as well. Inside—where my fire used to blaze—is an inferno. The heat does not rest in one spot like it used to, but rushes through my veins to every corner of my new human body. Worst yet, it pools into my shaft and…to my sudden excitement, hardens it.
My mind temporarily blanks. I am overcome with lust.
Lust!
A dragon’s lust is feverish—or so I have heard—and hard to master. It comes on hot and quick when a femdragon’s heated pheromones bloom on the air, and all dragonkind who smell it succumb to its effects.
But I am a dragon no more. Yet, the ache in my shaft threatens to steal my mind and take control of me. I try to grasp it, but once again, all I can do is strain my muscles and twitch my puny human toes.
Skies!
My mind reels. My body seeks to mate when it cannot even move! Just like how I feared it would! Anger and shame mixes with keen desire. The desire to have so
mething hot, tight, and willing to take my shaft, to alleviate it for me.
Move, dark skies. Move, you petrified weak body! My nostrils flare. A throaty groan rumbles from me.
I smell a familiar scent.
Sweat and sea salt, jungle lilies and spice. My thoughts turn to it though my prick jerks. I know this smell. It is the human’s scent. Was it the one who touched me?
My… lips?… ease open, and I groan again. Inhaling—my chest rises and falls with the effort. It is stronger and clearer this time. She is to my right—I know because I sense her. She is the human who touched me, who bonded me to her.
She did not leave me.
She is nearing. The reason I am in this predicament. A fresh burst of excitement assaults me. I hear her now, her slow, shuffling movements in the dark, coming ever nearer.
I would forgive her touch, if only I could move.
She is close. Are human senses this keen? Or is it the bond? If I were facing her way, I would be able to see her in the dark. Instead, all I can see is the shadowy grooves of the broken and tree-root clogged ceiling above. I have not lost all my dragon’s gifts.
I hope.
I know much about humans, as I do all enemies of my kind, but it has been a long time, and I never sought to gain knowledge from those of my dragon kin who have bonded to humans.
Anticipation builds as the shuffling noises stop.
But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this human is only here because she is trapped here, like I am. Is she here for me or because she has no other choice?
Why do I care?
Her scent thickens, and I am overwhelmed. Gone are the flowers and sweat. They have been replaced by sweet, mesmerizing ambrosia. The inferno in my body explodes, sizzling every fiber. I want to bathe in it, bask in her sweet scent, find the spot where it is coming from and bury my snout… nose?… into it. My mouth waters to bring that smell to my tongue so I may taste and drink it down.
She is in heat. She must be. My shaft grows harder. All I want to do is squeeze and pump it in my hand.
If I did not think I was cursed before…
There is movement beside me. Something touches my skin. I quiet my groaning as my need detonates. The female gasps, and her warm touch stills. It is her fingers, I realize, up against my side. They are on me. The female is touching me. Awe clouds my mind.
“Are…are you okay?” she asks hesitantly and—and I understand her! Her words make sense. I spoke her language in fury when I transformed. Human. The entirety of her words and meaning are clear to me.
I try to answer, but my lips do not move. My tongue remains stiff.
I try to speak again. Nothing. My frustration builds. I wait for her to do something more, to please my ears with the sound of her voice, but she does not.
She waits for my response.
Skies!
I am at her mercy, at the mercy of everything in this world. She could easily leave, or kill me—anything could happen at this point. I need her to survive. I have never needed another being after my mother and sire reared me. Part of me wants to lash out, to bellow at this sudden weakness.
Worse yet, her hands have not moved. The spots where they lie are now burning me with the contact. I want them to move, need them to move. It is agony, not being able to take what I want, to force her into action. I moan as compellment.
“Dragon man?” she says with frustrating hesitancy.
Dragon man? I scoff. So she knows of the dragon’s bane. She knows what she has turned me into. A small bit of anger needles me. But her voice is melodious and strong, and takes away my anger.
If this female can brave the wilds and survive, she must be strong. Why do I care what she calls me?
Her hands shift on my skin, and all other cares vanish. They move from my side to slide onto my belly, warm and curious. They do not linger but move up and over my chest, testing every inch of my exposed flesh. They press lightly into me as if they are exploring something new… or checking for wounds. As they move, I try to strain my muscles beneath them, testing them for the same reasons.
There is no pain. Not anymore. Not except for my throbbing shaft.
And like warm, soothing feathers, the female’s fingers continue up and down my arms, doing the same as they did with my chest. I learn my new form from her and find that I am fit and built. I also discover that not all of my scales are gone, as there are places her warmth fades and my body is rigid and not surrendering to her prodding.
My mind reels from sensation. The last creature to touch me did so in hopes to kill me. This is different, unexpected.
Even enjoyable.
The female’s hands are soft, yet wary, like she does not want to hurt me. They end up on my face, where they explore my features. Her fingers trace my jaw, my lips—which causes my shaft to twitch—and up my human nose. They whisper across my cheeks to trace around my eyes, but stop when they reach my brow.
My dark jewel.
I still have it?
Pride and relief infuse me. Dark dragons, since they are not born of natural elements, create a central piece to draw strength from. My jewel formed when I was a young dragonling, starving for darkness to nourish me.
The female examines it, making me shiver. Pleasure stokes my lust and my need to mate grows.
Then I see her.
Her form is blurred in the impermeable darkness my body has created. I can only make out some of her features, and my eyes trail across them as curiously as her hands on me.
She is dirty. There are smudges of dust from the cave-in all over her skin. I inhale again, searching for the scent of blood through the heady aroma of her natural scent, and find it. I do not like that I smell it, finding I am worried for her—and that perturbs me further. I should not care whether she is hurt or not, but I do.
My fingers shake. I care. A lot.
She is moving. She cannot be hurt that badly. The thought does not give me comfort.
I search her face and what I can see of her body, but I do not see the wound. Wherever it is, it is hidden from me. My eyes retreat to her face, and this time, I take the time to study it.
I have never been this close to a human before. In my prime, I saw them from afar, peering down at them from the skies. They ran and screamed as I burned down their villages. Despite my mischief, I have never been close enough to discern the delicacies of their features.
Though the darkness stole the human’s coloring, I can tell she has dark eyes and dark hair, which is long, straight, and pulled away from her face to hang in a messy cinch over her shoulder. Long enough that if it were not tied back, it would be flooding over me, tickling my skin. There are things in her hair as well—feathers perhaps? Or shells? I cannot be certain at my angle.
She is wearing coverings over her chest. Leather, I assume. Animal hide? But perhaps sewn grass. It reminds me how frail humans are and that I lack my own coverings.
There are bands on her arms and wrists, and what I suspect are weapons attached to her body. Beneath them, her body appears smooth and healthy.
Except for the blood I smell.
Her eyes stare aimlessly into the dark, and I enjoy the fact that she cannot see me studying her. But many of her features remain distorted despite my ability.
I discover something odd… I wish to see more.
I am forever bonded to this creature, I remind myself. Any intelligent being would be curious to know more, to learn who they are chained to.
The female’s fingers leave my jewel and discover my horns. Horns! I am also thrilled to have retained these. Horns that I will use to protect us.
My desire to take her and mate catapults inside me. Blood rushes to my loins, becoming excruciating.
I hear her gasp, and it burns. Her hands pull away from me, and I miss their touch immediately.
What I would do if I could move… Take her hands and place them back on me. No… I would do more than that. I would pull her into my arms, bury my nose to her neck
, and cover her body with mine.
I practically pant at the thought.
Her breathing labors to match my thundering heart, and I know she is as affected by the bond as I am. I can feel her want for me echo back.
Thankfully, her hands return to my body to probe at my chest. Pleasure jolts me, but her fingers do not remain there long. They are moving down, down, down… They reach my pelvis, and I hold my breath. My shaft rests hard and ready on my thigh. Her fingers slow but stay away from my root, frustrating me. They brush against it—stars fill my vision—but they jerk away and move down my thighs.
And then they are gone, down my legs, searching for wounds I know are not there. Torture and bliss all at once. I vow to make her feel the same once I am free of this poisonous trap… A growl escapes my lips, though it comes out as another groan.
Her perusal ends at my feet, but then grows strangely wild when she finds one of my tails. She finds the other one soon after.
They are limp in her hand.
She finally lifts her hands from me, and this time, does not return them, but at least she moves back up that I may view her again. She gazes into the void, unseeing. She brings her hands to her lips, where she cups them together.
I wait for her next move, curious what she will do.
“I’m going to try and find something to start a fire with,” she whispers. Her hands drop to her sides. “Don’t… don’t move. I’ll be back soon.”
Fire? Unease niggles me. I should be the one to take care of my mate. That is the dragon’s way. Not this.
But she is already gone, removed from my sight.
I want to tell her not to go, that I will not be down long, but the words do not come out.
And I am left with the unsettling scent of her blood in my nostrils and the quiet noises she makes as she moves through my cave… farther and farther away from me.
8
Trapped
It doesn’t take me long to find what I need for a fire. Luckily, I discovered broken roots that had fallen with the cave’s roof. I don’t expect they’ll burn well, but I’m excited to have light again soon.
