Dragons Don't Love (6 page)

“
No, it’s quite messy and
inconvenient.”

How quickly can I stand up, lift the
chair, and crash it over his head again? He glances to my fingers,
which have tightened on the sides of the wooden seat. When his eyes
meet mine, I think he reads my intent and he’s ready to pounce. I
relax my hands and he settles again.

Keeping my voice low and steady, I
make myself quite clear. “If you fuck me, I will kill
you.”

The shock on his face is quite
satisfying. Slowly, his puffy lips quirk and his voice thickens.
“Well, that’s why you’re here, my bride. What else would I do with
you?” I can think of a million things and none include what he
wants. His blue eyes darken. “Talking is getting us nowhere. You
can’t kill me, you’ve tried. Why do you fight the inevitable? I am
a superior species.” He flexes his arm and gives me a
heart-stopping grin.

Yes, his muscles and smile have an
effect on me, but I won’t allow it to keep me from teaching him the
difference between right and wrong. All children need this lesson.
I stare intently into his eyes so he thinks me serious. “With my
dying breath, I will try to kill you whether I can or not. Is that
what you want?”

One second I’m in the chair and the
next he’s leaning back on the bed and I’m on top of him. He moved
so fast a short scream is all I manage. His hands hold me tight as
he rolls. The bed is small and I’m worried we’ll fall. His face is
inches from mine, his hair surrounds me when he has me where he
wants me.

“
What if I say I won’t fuck
you until you beg for it?” he breathes against my lips.

Somehow this has turned into a game
for him. The knot is back in my belly and my breasts, smashed
against his chest, are tingling.

“
I do not beg, dragon.” He
pushes my hair from my face, his fingers gently gliding across my
cheek. The tingling travels from my belly to lower parts. I want to
close my eyes but can’t.

“
Oh, believe me, you will
beg,” he says huskily. He bypasses my lips and kisses my neck. A
few seconds later, I feel the pinch of suction. It doesn’t hurt; it
actually feels good. He smoothes my hair farther to the side and
flips his hair over his shoulder in a practiced move. My bride’s
gown is cut low in the front, and his warm lips travel down until
he kisses the tops of my breasts. His body is heavy against my own
and I can barely breathe. I can’t move and for some reason, I don’t
want to. At the very top of my left breast he sucks hard on the
skin and this time it hurts just a bit. Before I object, he’s up
and standing next to the bed.

His hand goes to the defined outline
of his manhood and he pushes it around beneath the strange cloth
covering his lower half. I’m completely breathless and fascinated.
His blue eyes are darker than they were earlier. “When you look at
where I’ve marked you, think about fucking.” He suddenly turns and
leaves the room. I hear the bar lower across the door.

I jump up and run to the bathing room.
Two marks. One on my throat and one at the top of my breast. I run
my fingers over them and my lower belly clenches.

Damned dragon.

Chapter Twelve

Laryn

She’s priceless.

I should be angry that she thinks she
will dictate about fucking, but I’m not. There is nothing better
than a good game of shark and little fish. I know she’s a virgin.
All the brides are virgins. She’s also afraid. Unlike my former
brides, she hides it behind bravado. I like that. I like
her.

I’ve seduced brides many times. Once
they settle, their frightened mouse persona fades and their true
female nature shows. They become cross at some small transgression
and I seduce them from their sour mood. I enjoy that game and I
always win.

It only makes it more thrilling this
time because my new bride is different. She doesn’t wail and beg.
She doesn’t use tears to dissuade me from my course. She uses a
chair and even her small fist. She’s a warrior and this should be
fun.

What isn’t fun is the stiff burden of
my cock. I head to my chambers and mentally send a message to my
manservant. “Deliver a tray of fruit and cheese to my bride. Take
care that she doesn’t kill you when you do.”

I turn on the water of my shower,
remove my jeans, and enter the large enclosure. The earth realm has
many amenities that make life more pleasant in my realm. Stealing
the designs for my luxurious shower is one of them. I run soap over
myself and think of my bride and what she is doing at this moment.
I picture her trailing her fingers over the marks I’ve left on her
soft skin. Her scent is at the corner of my consciousness and I
imagine my soapy hands are her sweet lips.

The fantasy is over in minutes and I’m
hard again within a few more. I waste no time returning to another
fantasy. Her tight pussy surrounds my cock as I allow her to ride
me. Her hair drapes over us and I buck up as she slams down. Her
breasts sway above me and I can’t help closing my lips around one
erect nipple.

Hot sperm shoots into my hand and
against the shower wall. A few long breaths later and she’s on her
hands and knees as I drive into her from behind.

After three ejaculations I’m tired and
still disturbingly unsatisfied. I dry off and head to bed. I fall
asleep with her sweet smell at the edge of my senses. Today had its
ups and downs, but a new bride resides within my lair. What more
could a dragon ask for other than having her real body to quench my
desire and not a fantasy?

***

My bride didn’t kill my manservant the
night before, which is a positive mark in her favor. It took me
years to train him. This morning, I notify him of the clothes I
want made for her. My bride will wear no flowing dresses or skirts.
I will clothe her as the warrior she is. She’s puny, but with
practice, I can teach her to wield a sword properly. She’s
self-trained, of that I have no doubt. It’s rare for the male
villagers to teach their women more than simple domestic
disciplines. They never train them to fight. I know Acasia went to
something known as college. Her human family quite spoiled her. I
roll my eyes because it made her no smarter except when it comes to
cards. I’ve heard the stories of Acasia’s mathematical studies
helping her win. We’ll see in two weeks.

I’m curious of my bride’s history and
thankful we have years to speak of such matters. It’s hard for the
brides at first. Talk of their family makes them sad. That’s not in
my plans. It’s her anger I’m after. She’s a sexy spitfire when
she’s mad.

I deliver our breakfast tray. I don’t
particularly care for her tower room, but she must earn the right
to enter my chambers. I make up the rules of our game as I go along
and my bride earning rewards is a new one.

I remove the bar and enter without
knocking. She’s sleeping sideways on the bed with the covers
tangled around her. Somehow she has managed to remove the sword
from the wooden table. I slammed it deep enough that I know it had
to be difficult to dislodge. I set the tray down where I’d buried
the sword. For some reason, the clang of removing the bar from the
door didn’t wake her, though the scrape of the tray
does.

She leaps to her feet somehow avoiding
twisting herself within the covers and falling. She holds the sword
held in front of her with two hands. The dark tresses of her hair
are messy and stick up around her head. Her bride’s dress is all
but shredded and barely hanging from one shoulder.

She’s stunning.

“
Widen your legs and bend
your knees,” I say as I take a bite of toast.

“
Wha…what?” she asks
sleepily.

“
Your stance is wrong. With
a flick of my finger, I can knock you off balance. If you plan to
defend yourself, do it properly.” I take another bite. “Or you
could put the sword down and come eat.”

The door behind me opens and my
manservant carries in another chair. I nod to the empty space. He
quickly gathers the broken pieces of wood from the evening before
and exits. She’s still standing there with sword raised when he
leaves. Her arms quiver under the weight.

“
You need to build muscle
too. I insist you have the ability to hold a sword for more than a
few minutes if you wish to train with me.”

Her arms slowly lower. Her face is
quite expressive and I watch everything from disbelief to
anticipation wash over her. “You would train me?” she finally
asks.

I also see intelligence in her eyes.
She won’t just take me at my word. She’s cautious. “I will train
you.” I nod to the blade she has lowered. “That sword will need to
go. It’s inferior. Your lessons won’t be easy. You’re weak,
unskilled, and a woman. I will adjust for your learning curve.” Her
brows draw together and I watch anger simmer deep within their
depths. I ignore it. “There are rules that are important in
training.” Well hell, now it occurs to me that I sound just like
Acasia. Damn. “First, you will eat each meal brought to you so you
don’t collapse. You will take my instruction and answer ‘Yes, sir’
or ‘Yes, dragon’. If I tell you to do something, you will do it.” I
pause to give her time to think about these rules. “Last, though I
may add other rules, you will not attack me with anything but a
weapon during training. A chair is not a weapon. If you use your
fist on me again, I shall break it and you will be unable to hold a
sword for a month. Are we clear?”

She doesn’t answer. She walks to the
table, jerks out her chair, and sits. When she reaches for the
food, I grab her hand and squeeze painfully. “I want an answer from
you when I ask a question.”

The pain from my grip shows in her
eyes. “Yes.” I give her a glare. “Yes, sir,” she says and fire
flashes in her eyes. I slowly release her hand and give a nod to
her plate. She eats a third of the food on the tray without looking
at me. I eat the rest. I’m laughing inside. This will be so much
fun.

Chapter Thirteen

Roxanne

His manservant doesn’t take me to the
weapons chamber, the dragon does. First though, the dragon delivers
clothing. He tells me to put them on and be ready in an hour. It
gives my food time to settle and I also have an opportunity to
bathe.

The clothes are a problem. They’re
made of beautiful, brown pliable leather. Soft fur lines the outer
seams. The entire outfit, though incredible, is obscene. There’s
nothing to it. I’m accustomed to heavy skirts that I had to loop
through my belt so they remained out of my way while I hunted and
trained. Nothing on this outfit will be in the way. More skin shows
than even the bride gown displayed.

I dress in the clothes out of
curiosity. Nothing so fine had ever touched me. The garment has a
wrap-around flap in the front and the back buckles at my hips. My
legs have the freedom to move in all directions. It barely covers
my upper thighs and my bottom. When I move, the material separates
and my hips show through the slits. The top piece covers only my
breasts.

I can’t wear it outside of this room.
I stare at the boots—sturdy and made from the same material. I
can’t help myself and pull them on. Heaven. Fur lines the insides.
Small buckles run up my outer legs and end just below my thighs.
Some type of strange material coats the bottom of the boots. I jump
up and down a few times and they actually spring with my
movement.

I grab my blade and walk into the
bathing chamber to glance at the looking glass. I can see only my
upper half. At least my breasts are covered and secure within the
leather. What’s not covered is the mark at the top of my breast.
The one he made with his lips. My fingers skim up to the spot at my
throat. My face heats up. How can he do this to me when he’s not
even here? How can I not think of fucking? And I hate the word,
though it doesn’t matter because that word is exactly what runs
through my mind.

I back away from the looking glass and
swing the blade. The thrill of unencumbered movement is
intoxicating. I love the new garments even though I’m embarrassed
to wear them. The dragon said he would train me. No man in my
village would dare. Yes, because I am a bride, but also because
women are never trained in the ways of war. Each day I went
hunting, I would travel at least two hours so no one would see me.
I had to train in order to place food on our table and also to kill
the dragon. Now I have no reason to practice with a blade. I want
to, though. I crave learning everything about properly using a
sword.

I hear a noise and instantly raise my
arm as I turn.

He stands in the doorway, his mouth
hanging open. It’s the perfect opportunity to cleave his head from
his shoulders, and my arm is heading downward. I stop the swing.
His death is no longer what I want. Acasia’s story took away my
bloodlust and I see the dragon in a very different light. That
doesn’t mean I must like it, though. Looking at him with my mouth
watering, I know exactly what I do want.

He’s dressed in tight, black, linen
pants that define the muscled curves of his thighs and legs. His
white shirt has billowing sleeves that gather just above his
wrists. Suddenly, I’m horribly embarrassed that he sees me dressed
in so little. I cross my hands over my breasts with the sword held
downward.