by Lucas, Naomi
“I’m not.”
His hand which had fallen onto my lap, comes up again, and this time cups my cheek. His clawed thumb softly grazes my lips. My mouth parts. He’s so close that his body heat envelops me.
“You will never be afraid of me,” he states.
I inhale. “I won’t be.” My want for him grows desperate. I feel myself becoming wet between my thighs.
“You will bow down to me.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“As your male, you will allow me to protect you, human. I am healing fast now, and it will not be long until you are taken care of, until we mate.”
The butterflies in my stomach vanish. “I can protect myself, Drazak. Very well, in fact.” I push his hand off my face.
“You have hurt yourself, and that cannot happen again.”
My eyes narrow. “I have been hurt in the past and will be hurt again in the future. I can still protect myself—and you. I am a Protector of the Mermaid Coast. It is my honor and duty.”
“Now it will be mine.” He reaches for me again. “And I will give you the child you seek.”
I move away. I don’t want him to touch me. My body aches for him, but… “It is not a negotiation. I am more than capable of protecting myself, and others too. I even train—”
“Not anymore, human.”
“My name is Milaye,” I snap. A spike of pain shoots through my head. I palm the back of it.
A rumbling growl fills my ears. Drazak tries to grab me, but I get up and move to the fire and out of his reach. Darkness flashes in his expression, and my throat constricts.
I bend down and find my dagger, sheathing it.
“Milaye,” he says, deep and raspy. The sound does things to my body, and I nearly go back to him.
Instead, I dig my heels into the ground. “I need to find us more roots to burn. The fire moss will keep these going for a bit longer but not forever. Eat.” I nod at the ration he’s dropped. I grab mine and bite into it, hoping it’ll take away my arousal. It doesn’t. “It’ll help you regain your strength.”
“Milaye, it is dangerous. I will join you.” Drazak presses his hand to the boulder and tries to rise, but slides back down. An annoyed snarl tugs his lips, and his tails curl.
Good.
I stuff the rest of my ration into my mouth and move to his side, but not before taking a half-burned root from the fire. I put it beside him. “One thing you should know, dragon, is that I am a huntress, a good one. I may be a human, but I have survived this world like you have. I may want to be a mother, but I will not lose what else I am in the process. It’s your turn to rest. You can use the torch as a weapon if you need, but I’ll be back soon.”
I shift back. He grabs my hand. “There’s a naga lurking, be careful,” he says. I can see this omission takes a lot out of him. There’s frustration and something else in his eyes…
He knows I’m going to leave and there’s nothing he can do to stop me.
He stares at me with such intensity it nearly roots me to the spot.
Some of the butterflies return to my belly.
“I will,” I say, swallowing.
Drazak squeezes my hand and then lets go.
11
Will He See Me?
So the naga is here in the cave. I grab my still-burning torch and head back into the darkness. He hasn’t attacked yet, and may not attack at all, but I remain vigilant anyway.
Maybe he knows a way out of here…
I scan the darkness. How would I even ask him if he did? Humans and nagas speak different languages, if the noise a naga makes could be considered a language at all. I've encountered enough of them to know they hiss in different tones to communicate, but that was it.
And even if the naga did know a way out, and even if we could communicate, I’d have to find him first.
I rub my fingers together, the place where Drazak squeezed them.
His touch lingers. His warmth. My fingers twitch, and my hand opens and closes as the sensation of him spreads. Like the bond, it fills me, comforting me. Each step away becomes more difficult. All I want is to return to his side and be within his presence.
I want to press up against him and absorb all that he is. I shudder thinking about it. I’ve never felt like this before.
But if he’s going to try and take my honor…
I inhale sharply. I’ve earned my title. I will not give it up unless I absolutely have to, and nothing Drazak says could change that. I’m not some little girl unable to throw her spear or set up a cockatrice trap or impale a sand shark. It’s been years since I had one of the elder huntresses with me checking if I could survive out in the wild.
I’m that elder huntress now. I watch over and keep our younger huntresses safe. I take the jobs that the eldest of our huntresses no longer can.
I may have thirty-two years, but that does not mean I don’t have another thirty-two left to be what I am. And as long as I’m not maimed, my next thirty-two years will be full of dangerous adventures—always for Sand’s Hunters.
Always for my sisters, my people.
Haime’s face appears in my head. Has she made it back to the tribe? Is she safe? Is she… My thoughts shift back to the cave-in, and I shiver. I can’t think about it. If I do, I may lose my remaining strength and wither. The loss of Haime would be my biggest failure.
Then I would lose my honor. I wouldn’t have any left to give to Drazak. I’d never recover if I lost her. My chest constricts.
I realize my feet are taking me in the direction of the cave-in. I halt.
No, I need to find kindling for the fire. Losing my only source of light wouldn’t be good. I straighten. Fire moss can keep anything burning for days, if there’s enough to burn, but the roots don’t make good kindling, I think. I frown.
How long have we been down here? There’s no way to tell time. I’d been unconscious and asleep for part of it, but for how long? There’s no way of knowing. The only thing I’m certain of is that the dried meat ration barely sated me, and my stomach feels as empty as it’s ever been.
Right now, I need to push myself until Drazak and I are safe. I’ve rested, I don’t have the luxury to do so again. At least not so soon. And I don’t want Drazak to see me weak or in pain. I know the other dragon men are protective of their mates, but I never really imagined how that would be for me if I ever bonded with one. I’d never really thought about it.
Maybe because I gave up on that hope as well. Everyone else had.
But Drazak seems different from them…
Like he’s afraid, afraid I’ll go away.
I have to make him understand I won’t. But will he trust me? He’s been stuck down here for so long I can’t even comprehend it. What would that do to his mind? Being alone. In the dark. Without food or companionship. Without having anyone know you’re gone or missing? What would that do to any being? Dragon or not?
I force myself not to look his way.
I turn away from the direction of the cave-in and make my way around the cavern. Far to my right and in the distance, I see the fire and Drazak beside it. I know he’s watching me. I can feel it.
His eyes burn my skin. He’d be able to see me even without the light from my torch. I’m certain. There’s still disbelief that I’m even bonded at all, that I have a male to call my own.
That I have my own dragon. I have always envied Issa and Aida for their virile men.
I’ve barely had time to process him being mine, so little time has passed since seeing him for the first time, since the taut, sizzling heat in my soul sprang to life and knotted with his. Finding more kindling for the fire was a chore needing done, but it was also an excuse. I need to get away and clear my head. I’ve never needed someone or something as badly as I need him.
Years of lonely nights wishing for a mate did not prepare me for this. Years of overhearing the sounds of bonded pairs mating never heated my blood like this.
I want to consume him. Or maybe I
want him to consume me.
Will he?
He’s everything that I imagined. Dark, dizzying, and beautiful—even wicked. I’d never known a human could look wicked, but Drazak does. How is that possible? Drazak resembles a dark, fiendish male that had come from the shadows itself. And hadn’t he? I found him in the darkest place I’d ever been, and I swear it isn’t smoke coming from the jewel on his brow—it is darkness. Like he creates it.
But will he want me like I want him? He’s been erect for as long as I’ve known him… Is it only because of the strings that bind us, or can he want me for me? Making a male erect… It is a symbol of excitement for the females of my tribe. Even the mermaids love priming the few human males they know.
And Drazak is erect—primed—for me. Because of me.
I’m not the youngest or most beautiful female of my tribe. I’m not even the youngest or most beautiful of my two sisters. I may be a better huntress, but I can’t cook, my sewing is atrocious, and my craftwork is wanting. I’m the one sent to gather wild fruit and forage for supplies, not to actually make something with those supplies that betters the tribe.
Will he be ashamed of me if we get out of here and he sees me? Really sees me in comparison to the other females, ones he could have been mated to?
I feel my heart sink.
I want Drazak so badly it hurts. I’m wet and aching for him, but I shouldn’t be. It takes effort not to climb onto his lap and have him. My cheeks warm.
I want everything a mate could offer me—to never be alone at night again, to feel whatever tremendous way the other females feel when they’re being rutted.
I’ve never had the sexual training given to the other females—lessons in what to expect to happen after a mating ceremony, but I’ve heard and seen enough to know. That a male’s cock goes into me repeatedly—that there is discomfort and a lot of pleasure during it—that there is an intense burst of bliss. A bliss that couldn’t be had solely by rubbing your fingers between your legs in the middle of the night.
I wipe my arm across my brow. I’m clenching just thinking about Drazak filling that spot between my legs. The ones my fingers have only dared enter a couple times before, and only out of curiosity.
But will he still want me once he knows there are others, more worthier females?
My heart quakes. I don’t know why I’m worrying about it so much.
It doesn’t feel right. That I have lucked into this bond when others have died for it…
I will have to prove that I am worthy of it.
I glance to the right and behind me toward where the fire should be—but I no longer see it. It gives me a moment of panic. Then I find a distant glow dancing behind some large rocks, one that’s barely perceptible. But it is there and he is safe.
Moving full circle, I scan my surroundings, realizing I’m much further into the cavern than I have been before. Checking my weapon, I place my back to the fire’s light, and continue, keeping an eye on the ground for kindling.
The cave around me slowly changes. Each step is chillier than the last. The coastal tribes only have a short cold season, so we rarely wear our shawls and high sandals, but right now, I wish I had them. Being cold is not something I’m used to.
Something moves in the corner of my eyes, and I twist toward it, stilling, as I watch a long centiworm scurry across the ground. A small shriek escapes. The worm vanishes into the dark. I shake out my body in disgust.
Waters, I hope Drazak didn’t hear. I shake again and continue forward, now watching the ground more diligently. The ground is now dirt and roots, differing from the rocks and slate near the fire. There’ll be more critters here. The soles of my sandals sink in the softer ground.
The wall I follow turns inward toward me, ending in a bend. The ceiling has lowered and it’s right above my head now. I press my palm to it, moving forward. In a few steps, I have to hunker so I don’t brush the rocks above.
I’m crouching when I see the edges of rootlike shapes appear. A pile of them. Thrusting my torch toward the roots, my brow furrows.
Dirty and pale, brown and gray, I realize what I’ve found aren’t roots at all, but bones. Bones in an array of decay. I stop, listening to the sounds of the cave.
The naga’s den? Or something else’s?
I wave my light closer.
The bones are small, with only a couple unintrusive larger ones. Femurs, thighs, wing shards. Most look like bird bones with a couple of cockatrice mixed in. Maybe some reptilians. There are several spines I’m certain are lizards and one small crocodile skull. Nothing that would pose a threat to a predator, not even a small one.
The naga boy is small. This could be his home.
I pull away and wave my torch about the den to get a better look. There are more bones scattered ahead of me, and I carefully step over them. Deeper in, I see that the cave comes to an abrupt stop. It’s also much cleaner back here, even the ground is level and packed tight. There are shadows of things further in.
I crouch even lower to reach them. Stopping once to cautiously peer behind me before I do.
There’s a small nest of giant jungle leaves with large sticks walled around them. Dead flowers are weaved into them, probably with scents that repel bugs, as I recognize a few. There are feathers from the birds stuffed among the leaves, as well as poorly shorn hides of small creatures. Thankfully, the hides have mostly dried out, even if they haven’t been cured correctly.
It’s crude, but it’s a naga’s nest. A small one. There’s only one. The nest is only big enough for one.
He’s alone.
I don’t know why that makes me sad, but it does. He was no bigger than Haime, and his upper humanoid body was thin. What happened to his parents? There’s no sign of any other creature living here but him.
Nagas rarely nest this deep in a cave. They preferred the undercrofts of the giant jungle trees, and sometimes, they nest high up in the wider branches. But deep in a cave where they can’t easily lure prey or drag kills to their nest? It was strange.
Maybe he feels safer here, I wonder. If he’s alone, he probably is… as long as he keeps the cave entrance hidden.
Which it probably was before Haime barreled after him.
Beside the nest are clothes and old baskets—stolen from my tribe. I recognize the patterning. I rummage through the pile.
There’s shells and broken ropes, frayed bags, and plants. Plants, like the flowers in his nest, they all have medicinal or otherwise aptitudes. There are also some pretty rocks and stones, ones I know my more creative sisters would love to have for their jewelry and armor.
Up against the wall is a long, thick stick with a crudely sharpened end.
He’s making a spear?
Other naga’s use them, but not often. Most aren’t smart enough.
I grab the spear, pull out my dagger, and sharpen the end to a better point. Several minutes later, I place it back against the wall and retreat. It’s not much, but it’s the least I can do. He hasn’t attacked us…
Yet.
I debate taking the spear but shake my head, leaving instead. I wish I’d brought a ration with me.
I’ll come back later, I decide. Feed him.
We may need each other yet.
My newfound kindness to the naga surprises me. I hadn’t cared before—I’d feared he was with family—but now that I know he is alone…
A short time later, I find the roots I was looking for and hear the boy hissing just beyond my torchlight, having returned from wherever he’d been. I hesitate but he doesn’t step into the light so I keep moving. The hissing follows me. I wonder if it’ll follow me back to the camp.
He must know I hear him.
If he does follow me, I can offer him that ration. The campfire reappears in the distance.
Drazak suddenly steps in front of me.
I stop, lips parting as I catch my balance, and grab my dagger.
“Human,” he growls, glaring at me with such intensity it stea
ls my breath. “You will listen to me now.”
12
Nothing Left but Embers
Milaye. Mil-aye. Mil-ay-e.
I test the strangeness of her name in my mind as I roll it on my tongue. It takes away some of the disgust of her human food, the tang of the cooked meat she has given me. I ate it because she provided it, and I know better than to turn away from something that might speed my recovery.
I prefer my meat raw and fresh. I glower at the burning roots, which are quickly fading out now.
My tongue snaps to the roof of my mouth. Disgusting. I hope I am not cursed to eat cooked meat for the rest of my days. I will do it if I must, but I will be fussy about it.
“Milaye,” I whisper her name aloud, wanting to hear it.
I enjoy it. The names we dragons give ourselves are rarely songlike. We choose what speaks to us as mighty beings of the land, what would threaten other dragons away—what might compel a femdragon to seek us.
My human’s name is not threatening.
She says she is a huntress, and I hear fierceness in her voice, but it does not make me comfortable—not anymore. At first, I was proud. If a human female could bind me, of course she would be a warrior. But now that I am moving again, feeling the tug of this bond, this mate—whatever it is—fear has crept in for her safety. I cannot lose her.
What if this is all a dream? What if she goes away and I lose everything? Again? I could not bear it.
I watch her scout the cavern, following her movements as she makes her way over uneven ground and around rocks. While my gaze trails after her, her body, her curves, I greedily breathe in the last remnants of her scent.
Nectar. Female—human—nectar. It keeps my shaft stiff and aching. It makes my hands curl into fists because all I want is to grab her and throw her under me, to run my nose over her soft flesh and find the scent’s source.
Would she have let me, if she found me on top of her?
Watching my human sleep was as comforting as it was painful. I had never wanted to engorge myself on another like I had then. But I could not move. I had this feast of flesh—my mouth salivating for a taste—and I could barely flop to my side and lift my hand. This blasted poison! If I could kill that poison dragon all over again, I would.
