Dragon's Desire (4 page)

She stirred, uncomfortable with the strange intimacy.

“Let me,” he said, his voice thicker. “We’ll give you the pleasure you seek.”

“Not there. It’s too much.”

“I won’t enter you. Just let me tease.”

His tone wooed, and she relaxed her cheeks.

His finger rubbed the entrance again, swirling in the juices dripping from her pussy.

The experience was all too much. The sensations, the dark pleasure of it all. The men’s own breathing changed, shortening to hot gusts. The body she lay against hardened to stone; the cock pressed against her back pulsed.

Blind, her mind filled with images of the handsome Guy, naked, his skin shining with sweat. Of the master, kneeling between her legs, equally nude, a dark head buried between her thighs, his amazing tongue lashing at her sex.
Her sex
.

She didn’t care that she’d only been a convenient conquest, rather reveled in the idea that they thought of her as an easy mark. At the moment, she was the one reaping the reward because all their attention was centered on her and her deepening, agonizing pleasure. She whimpered.

Guy’s cheek scraped against hers. “Now, Angela. Come for us now. Let go.”

As though her body had been awaiting permission, a sudden blossoming explosion erupted in her womb and spiraled outward, tensing her thighs, curling her toes. Waves of pleasure rolled over her body, prickling her skin, releasing a warm gush of liquid from inside her that Drago licked right up. Through it all, she was aware of the men, soothing her with kisses, calloused hands, and praise she didn’t understand because the words were in another language, but that fact didn’t really matter.

Angela at last understood passion. And she wanted more.

Guy roamed the large chamber, keeping well away from Drago as he thrashed violently on the stone floor.

Although they’d repeated this cycle many times, he never overcame his awe at the transformation as they approached the centennial anniversary of Drago’s curse.

Drago lay naked and bathed in sweat, shivering and cursing. His back was covered in scales, his hands already fully engulfed, and every time he kicked his feet, his limbs blurred between human and dragon. He was in his third day. By tonight, he’d be full dragon and they had a date with Angela.

For the first time since he’d entered this devil’s bargain, Guy regretted their choice of virgin “sacrifice”. Angela met all the requirements. She matched the witch’s daughter’s appearance in coloring and frame. Even her fiery temperament, which she hid beneath a thin veil of embarrassed modesty, shone like a beacon.

Since their introduction at the fair, they’d met twice more. Guy spent time alone with her to win her trust. The strictures of the curse were narrow. Not to be meddled with, or only free-running blood would satisfy the beast the witch had shoved inside Drago’s soul.

Angela’s appearance was important because the old hag, Greta, had wanted Drago to remember her daughter each and every time he approached a new sacrifice. She wanted him to relive the guilt and horror he’d inflicted when he’d rejected her young daughter because she hadn’t come chaste to his marriage bed. The daughter, overcome with shame, had hung herself from the limb of the sacred oak for all to find. As she’d swung, her face swollen and a mottled purple, the witch had cursed Drago for eternity, swearing he’d learn the feeling of being rejected himself.

And, over and over, Drago had. For he didn’t come to the sacrifice in his handsome human skin, but rather the dragon’s. Even when a woman was warned, a last moment’s terror served to renew the curse. Drago more often chose to mesmerize the girls, rather than let them feel a moment’s fear, which also worked to prolong the curse. The woman had to accept the dragon in the man, of her own free will, at the moment her hymen broke.

No long courtship could be used to soothe the woman. The three days before the last full moonrise were all the curse allowed. In the old days, before Guy, Drago permitted the villagers to choose the sacrifice, with the quiet stipulation the woman must be fair. After Guy became his servant, Drago let him troll for their victims.

They’d both been surprised when after that first time atop the Dragon’s Atoll, Guy had ceased to age. They thought perhaps it was because Guy had accepted Drago, his curiosity making it possible for him to suspend horror in the moment Drago thrust his tongue deep into the maiden.

But still, they’d yet to find a woman who didn’t cringe. Neither man could stomach rape, and so Guy took on the role of seducer, something for which over the years he’d gained considerable skill. The most they hoped for this night was to soothe Angela’s maidenly vapors, because when they were through, her life would never be the same. Their secret must be kept, and so she’d be sequestered, pampered, loved gently for the rest of her days—her reward for bearing that single moment of horror when the blindfold was removed and she would see Drago’s true nature.

Drago pounded the stone floor with his fist, then shook his head. “Go now. Get the girl. There can be no delays.” He shook his head a final time and it blurred, reshaped, the dragon’s snout appearing. Gold eyes glinted in torchlight, the pupils narrow, vertical windows into Drago’s agonized soul.

Guy approached him, reached out a hand, and touched the bridge of his long snout. “Maybe she will be the one,” he whispered, although they both held out little hope. Theirs had been long lives, filled with disappointments and good works to placate whatever deity was watching over them. He walked to the door, paused to turn the antiquated gear handle that lifted part of the roof above the room like a drawbridge. The space created was just big enough for Drago to escape.

As he watched, Drago sank on his back haunches then leapt, grabbing the edge of the opened hatch and hauling himself out. Guy couldn’t see into the darkness, but heard the mighty flap of the dragon’s wings as he flew to the mystical atoll, which always appeared on the first night of the full moon.

She thought she knew what that secret might be. For the past two days, she’d clicked through the Internet, seeking information about Drago and Guy and the old keep they’d moved from deep inside a German forest. What she’d found only enhanced the romance surrounding the pair. A true tale of good and evil, a witch’s curse, and virgins lost to a savage, bloodthirsty beast.

Tonight, she’d take no notebook, no pen. No more pretending she sought an interview. Since she’d met them, she’d lost interest in her job, her mundane life. When they grew bored with her, she’d have to move away because her thirst for adventure wouldn’t be satisfied any longer in this little mountainside community.

The doorbell rang, and her heart leapt. She ran down the stairs to the door and saw Guy’s shadow through the glass side panel. The decision over which of the men intrigued her more was hard. Guy was accessible, and always touching her—light grazes of his fingers on her hair, the indentation of her waist. And even though they’d shared so much more that first night, he’d retreated, promising her a more thorough seduction. When he’d kissed her at the door last night, she’d ceased worrying whether he’d lost interest. His erection had damn near bruised her pelvis as he’d ground into her.

Oh, she’d been willing. Told him so, but he’d shook his head. “A woman’s first time should be special. We’ll make it special, Angel. Magical.”

And she believed him, because every time she was with him, she did feel special, alluring, the center of his attention.

Since that first night, she hadn’t seen Drago, but Guy spoke of him, of his thoughts and desires, so she had begun to know him. His reclusiveness was an armor he drew on to protect himself from some old horror. The more she learned about their business ventures, about the places they traveled and the things they did together, the more she wanted to know the man, see him without the blindfold she’d be wearing tonight when she met Drago again.

She opened the door and stood in the frame, enjoying the sight of Guy, broad-shouldered and beautiful, his brown hair falling back in careless waves. He seemed to enjoy the sight of her as well, taking in the thin blousy top and short skirt. She hadn’t bothered with hose—or underwear. From the flare of his nose, she thought maybe he guessed that fact.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Something light, just as you suggested,” she said, feeling breathless.

With a short nod, he thrust out his elbow, and she snuck her hand into the bend, letting him walk her down the steps to the Mercedes parked at the curb.

The drive flew by in what seemed seconds because the next time she looked out her window, they were passing under the stone gate and along the pea-gravel drive to the old keep. Moonlight reflected on the gray stone, lending it a slightly sinister aura.

It’s just nerves
, she told herself. She would lose her virginity tonight. A girl had a right to a few doubts.

Guy escorted her inside the foyer, turning to lead her into a large room, the great hall, she was sure from her research. The floors were polished marble, the furnishings were made of heavy, dark wood. The slate gray walls were covered in original paintings, many of them depicting dragons.

“Care for a drink?

“Nothing with alcohol. Those were the rules,” she said, smiling.
Odd rules
. But he’d said he wanted her to be fully aware, wanted this to be consensual—whatever event they had planned. Her thoughts had skipped to images of a sexy ménage, then to her blindfolded and shackled while two men took turns warming her flanks with a light flogger, teasing her nipples with rubber-tipped clamps. Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly shoved away those thoughts before she jumped the poor man.

Guy gave her a quizzical look, his expression amused by the crinkles deepening beside his eyes. He held up a dark-colored bottle. “Sparkling cider?”

“Yes, please,” she said, wishing she didn’t feel suddenly uneasy and nervous. Would she make a fool of herself? Did she really know these men? How had they gotten her this far this quickly?

“Don’t worry, Angel. No harm will come to you. Only pleasure. My promise,” he said, handing her the glass, his expression suddenly solemn.

Too solemn. Or maybe it was just her overworked nerves. “Drago’s here too?”

“He awaits us.”

Too quickly, she took a sip, then coughed and set aside the glass. Her hands shook too badly to hold it anyway. “I have a million questions,” she blurted.

A slight smile curved his mouth. “I’m sure you do. And we’ll answer them all. But first, we ask that you trust us to see to your pleasure and safekeeping.”

She cleared her throat. “Do I need to know a special word?”

“A safe word?” His smile widened. “You won’t need one. Forget whatever books you’ve been reading. Let the magic happen.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” she said, feeling somehow defective. What woman didn’t believe in “happy ever afters”? At least, until her dreams were crushed by a man.

His hands settled lightly on her waist and pulled her closer. “No? What do you believe?” he asked, his voice a velvet rumble.

The close angle forced her to tilt back her head. “That you’re very, very good at this.”

A dark brow arched above a crystal blue eye. “Too good?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she scoffed. “Twenty-four, a virgin, and yet you’ve managed to tempt me into a ménage and whatever else with your boss.”

“My lord. My master,” he said, dipping his head toward hers. “He will be yours too—if you let it happen.”

Mesmerized by his sexy curving mouth, she shook her head. “Why does that sound so appealing? The offer shouldn’t.”

“Another sip,” he said, “then let’s go meet him together.”

He released her and took a step back, disappointing her, because she’d liked the heat emanating from his large body. She reached for her glass, took a long sip of the sweet sparkling liquid, hoping she hadn’t lost her mind, and that her first time wouldn’t be a complete letdown. The buildup, so far, was taking away her breath. “It’s not really my first time. We’ve already had sex.”

Guy held out his hand, waiting.

When she placed hers atop his palm, she felt a reassuring spark of electricity sizzle between them.

He tucked her beside him, then turned toward the open door. “It’s fine for you to think that, if it helps dull the edge of your anxiety. We’re simply taking care of the technicality tonight.”

“Why tonight?” she asked, suddenly breathless. “Why not that first night?”

His head bent towards hers as they climbed the steps to the upper level. “Do you note the moon’s cycles?”

“Tonight’s the last night of the full moon. Does that mean something in your culture?”

His eyes sparkled, reflecting light from the old-fashioned gas-lit sconces suspended in the stairway wall. “There’s magic in the moonlight.”

“Dragons, you mean?” she drawled.

For a second, his gaze slid away then returned, piercing her with its intensity. “Have you been checking up on us?”

“I’m a curious girl.”

He halted at the end of a long hallway where an open archway led to stone steps that spiraled upward. “Would you like to hear the full story?” he asked, his voice, for once, hesitant.

She reached for both his hands and held them against her belly. “I’m all yours. Tell me everything.”

And he did—launching into a wild story of a tarnished knight who’d found a new crusade atop a lonely, moonlit atoll. By the time he’d finished with the lavish tale, she was smiling. “I love fairy tales.”

His expression tightened, and his piercing blue gaze locked with hers. “Could you love that dragon?”

“If he turned into a handsome lord, I might,” she said lightly, although inside, her heart stuttered at his strange intensity.

His eyelids closed, his expression turning grim.

Was he praying? She squeezed his hands, worried that something was wrong. “Is this the story Drago has had to live with all his life? Did the villagers fear him? Is that why you moved everything here?”

Guy bent and leaned his forehead against hers, looking weary. “We wanted a fresh start, without all the baggage. We hoped to be accepted for the things we do, the charities we support, the jobs our ventures produce, rather than an old curse.”

“You moved to a remote mountain with its own prosaic folklore,” she said, using a quiet voice to reassure him. “Don’t you think we’d be glad for a little romance?”

“Romance?” he snorted. “You think it’s romantic, the story of the Drakkenberg curse?”

Because she heard an edge of anger seep into his voice, she deflected. “Was Drago named for the dragon?”

“He’s been called it for so long he doesn’t remember the name he was born with. That one no longer has significance.”

Not knowing now whether this was part of the game they would play this night or whether Guy was delusional—and not really caring because she was still hot, and beyond bothered—she tilted her head to align their noses, then whispered, “Is he so very old then?”

His mouth rubbed hers. “Not to worry,” he murmured. “When he isn’t a fire-breathing dragon, he’s quite handsome—not a wrinkle or a gray hair to be seen.”

“Then I’ve nothing to fear?” Her tone was light, but she knew he realized how nervous she really was, because he cupped one side of her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Plenty will happen to make you quiver, Angel, but we hope you will look beyond the moment and truly enjoy what follows.” He gathered her closer, their lower torsos touching. “Trust us.
Trust me.
You’ll not be harmed, and both our lives will be devoted to your happiness.”

How she wanted to believe him. Wanted this moment to be about more than the magic he was trying to create. “You don’t have to make me promises. I may be inexperienced, but I know this is just sex. Right?” Guy’s eyes were so sad, so weary, that she took a step back. “Don’t play with me. Please. I’m a big girl. Don’t lie to me.”

With a slow shake of his head, he shrugged. “I’ve told you only truths.”

The roughness of his voice caused a pang of answering sorrow in her chest. She reached out and laid her palm against his cheek. His head turned, and he pressed a kiss against the surface, then dragged down her hand and held it by his side. As they climbed the stairs to a crenellated wallwalk, she glanced around, wanting to remember every detail. Mist enclosed the valley below them, obstructing the view of their surrounds.

Guy continued forward, walking slowly toward an opening in the wall where a stone bridge spanned a deep crevasse and ended atop a barren, rocky knoll at the other end.

“I haven’t seen that before...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced down. The mountains here in this region were gentle slopes, but this was a jagged wall of rock that sank into the mist.

“You don’t believe in magic, but here’s your first proof.” His hand swung in an arc. “We built the bridge, stone by stone over centuries of small windows of opportunity, to make the journey to the atoll less dangerous and frightening for the women.”

“Women?” Breath whooshed out, and her head swiveled toward him. “Is this a joke? A game? Are you reenacting the sacrifice? Is that why you wanted me? Because I’m the only virgin you know?”

“At first, yes. It’s paramount we find a maiden, and one who looks like the witch’s daughter.”

Realizing at last that he was dead serious, she shivered. Was he insane? She glanced again at the shadowed depths beneath the bridge. Was she? “I look like the daughter of the witch who cast the spell?”

“Yes. She was real, Angela, just as everything I told you is real.” He laid a hand against his heart. “I swear it.”

Not knowing quite what to believe, she shook her head as dread constricted her chest. “The blindfold...when Drago and I met...”

“Makes it easier for the girl to meet Drago without seeing what he has become.”

“He’s a dragon,” she said, still hoping he was kidding, and that any moment he’d grin and tell her not to worry, that they weren’t really crazy.

But he didn’t smile. His handsome, craggy face was etched with pain. “The curse has foiled us, century after century. Drago transforms, he tastes the blood of the virgin’s gift. But if she doesn’t accept him at that moment, if she doesn’t fully trust, we are forced to repeat the cycle.”

“You really believe this,” she said, her eyes tearing and her throat scratchy. Hadn’t she known all along this beautiful man was too good to be true? Then she heard something—like claps of a thick leather whip. The air stirred.

She glanced over her shoulder to see a large shape block the moon, its long body stretched, wings flapping downward as it neared the atoll across the bridge and settled at the end.

Angela couldn’t tear her gaze from the creature who sat on its back haunches and folded its wings. Its gaze met hers, slitted golden eyes never blinking. “Aren’t I supposed to be chained to a rock?” she whispered, amazed she could still talk because she suddenly felt dizzy from shock.

A hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed. “We’re giving you a chance to decide on your own how you wish this to happen.”