Heart Of The Dragon (Her Dragon's Bane 3) (7 page)

Serena began to fumble with the shirt he wore. Unused to having to undo buttons to get access to his hard muscled chest. "I prefer it when you don't cover yourself up."

"I'll bear that in mind. But I don't think my dragon cousins have the same taste in daily attire."

She giggled against him. "You mean they like to wear shirts?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

"In your own lovely old fashioned way." She kissed him, her hand threading around his neck.

"Then it is a good job that pleasing a woman has never gone out of fashion." He lifted his body up, and undid his belt. Pushing his pants down, he exposed his hard length to her, and she couldn't resist the temptation to touch him. But, it seemed, he wasn't in the mood for anything other than being inside her. He lifted her skirt up, and pushed her panties aside before burying himself deep inside her.

Serena wrapped her legs around his waist, and he plunged into her. Each hard thrust taking him deeper. Pushing Serena towards that inevitable climax, he always drew from her. Today he needed to lay claim to her body in this castle, the place where his ancestors had lived.

His hand gripped the iron bedstead, and he leveraged himself to impale her on his cock. She clawed at his back in her excitement, each thrust pushing her nearer to the point of no return. Then he came, his cock spurting deep inside her. A chain reaction started in her body. Her sex gripping his cock as it swelled inside her, and then a throbbing, pulsating climax took hold of her. She cried out, nipping his neck to stifle the sound.

When he was completely spent, he dragged the covers over them. There they spent the rest of the day making love. In silent agreement, they avoided the many questions that needed answers.

Until he met with Dòmhnall, they had no idea if what they had come here for was even possible. Even if it was, would the Dragon Lord give it to them? When something about dragons having mates did not sit well in their stronghold.

A knock at the door. He was ready to leave, his sense warning him of the dragon approaching. Only courtesy stopped him from opening it before he was summoned.

"The Lord Dòmhnall awaits your company."

"Thank you," Connor said. Turning to Serena, he smiled. "I will see you later."

She bowed theatrically, out of sight of the dragon at the door.

Connor winked at her, and then followed the dragon out into the hallway. Flame torches lit the darkened passages, leaving a smell of pine and wood smoke.

“Do you not have electric lighting?” Connor asked.

“No, there is no electric here. Dòmhnall likes to keep things as they have always been.”

“Does he? And what shall I call you?” he asked the dragon who was one of the four who had accompanied them through the forest.

“Arran,” he answered shortly.

“Arran. How many of you are there here?”

“Dòmhnall will tell you everything you need to know.”

They had arrived back at the great hall. Where Dòmhnall was now seated at the big table at the far end of it. Connor half expected to see his bed here too. He had the sense that Dòmhnall never left the hall. However, a quick glance around told him that was not true. He must have a room somewhere in the castle, unless he curled up on the floor in front of the fire like a dog.

But this man was no dog; he was a beast, strong and powerful. He stood almost twice the size of Zoah, who he had never considered small. It was no wonder he was the leader here, and Connor pondered how old he was. Perhaps he was the most ancient of the dragons. Although his human form looked no more than thirty years of age.

“Ah, it is good of you to join me.”

As if he had a choice, Connor mused, but to Dòmhnall he said, “Are the rest of your men joining us?”

“No. I wish to speak to you alone.” Dòmhnall motioned to a seat along the table. A place had been set there; the food already filled the table. Whatever Dòmhnall had to say he did not want overheard by anyone else.

Intrigued, but also alert to danger, Connor walked to the table, pulling the chair out to sit down. Arron had already left, the big hall sealed off from everything outside.

The great Dragon Lord could kill Connor, and no one would ever hear his screams. A chill settled over him. Dòmhnall’s men could also be going to his room right now to fetch Serena and hurt her.

“Don’t worry, Connor Outcast you and your mate are under my protection.”

Connor did not acknowledge this had been his fear. Instead, he asked, “Why do you call me that?”

“Before I answer, fill your plate, and your goblet. Then we will talk.”

Connor was famished. He had hardly eaten anything all day, and the smell of the chicken, beef and venison assailed his senses. His mouth watered and so he piled his plate high with meat. He added potatoes and vegetables as a token gesture. He was a dragon, not a vegetarian.

Dòmhnall laughed, “You have a good appetite. You've not become so tame that you watch your diet.”

“Why do you think I am tamed?”

“You have a mate and a child on the way. That changes your priorities, you allegiances.”

“Is that why you exiled my father, because he had a mate? Was my mother already carrying me at the time?”

“So many questions.” Dòmhnall lifted the decanter and filled the goblets once more. “Drink.”

Connor did so, feeling the warmth of it seep into his blood, firing his senses. “This is good wine.”

“Is it? I simply get one of my men to bring up a bottle.”

“I have collected wine for a long time, this is good. Expensive.”

“Money has little use here. We hunt in the forest, and sell gold and jewels we collected in the old world.”

“You don’t venture out of Spellholm?”

“I never leave here. I have developed a healthy mistrust of the people outside of these walls. Take your friend the witch for example. She comes and presents herself to me as though she is doing me a favour.”

“And you are so sure she isn’t?” Connor devoured a leg of venison, the fat dripping down his chin. He wiped it on his sleeve. It was so good, and he felt his manners slipping as he picked up a drumstick and began to eat. His mouth full when he asked, “You have no women here?”

Dòmhnall gulped his wine down, and filled his goblet again. “It is because of people like your witch that women are not welcome here.”

“None of you have ever found their mate?”

“One of us did,” he said, looking pointedly at Connor. “Your father never spoke of us? So he kept his word.”

“Never. My brother and I thought we were the last of the dragons. It was only Tara, the witch, who told us there were dragons in Spellholm.”

“I wonder how she knew. I might have to prise that information from her.” He cracked a bone in two absently, his gaze elsewhere. “It was a witch that caused all the trouble here.”

“Trouble.”

“She came to me, told me she was my mate. That she had no wish to lie with me and bear my child unless she could live forever.”

“Immortality.”

“Yes.” He wiped his hands, and picked his goblet up again. “She would meet me in the woods, when the ancient oaks were saplings. Her voice was silver, musical in its tone. How she wound me around her finger.”

“What happened?” Connor held his breath. Was this the secret he had travelled here for, about to spill from Dòmhnall’s lips?

“She took something from me. And then left.”

“What did she take?”

“It doesn’t matter. She lied. I knew then that there was no such thing as a true mate.”

“But I have found mine. It is real.”

“So your father tried to convince me. He begged me to tell him the secret, to allow your mother to live forever. I told him I would never give a woman that power over him.”

“What power?” Connor asked, eager to know how to give this gift to Serena.

“I have no thought to tell you. You are blinded by love, by this myth that she is your mate.”

“It isn’t a myth, Dòmhnall,” Connor insisted.

“What proof do you have?”

“She carries my child.”

“You are sure it is your child?”

“Yes.”

“So sure.” He smiled, and drank more wine. “I know how devious women can be, Connor Outcast. I would not like to stake my life on a woman.”

“She came to me a virgin. Her blood was offered as sacrifice, and she conceived our child.”

“There is no way the child can be someone else’s? A human child?”

“No. Already the heat fills her, and on our arrival yesterday he knew he was coming home.”

“Who told you that?” Dòmhnall demanded, his voice rising in anger.

“One of your men, I am unsure which one.” Connor tried to sound vague. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble with the other dragons.

“Then if you are so sure, I will make you a deal.” He leaned forward; thrusting his face so close to Connor’s that the wine fumes from his mouth caressed Connor’s skin. “Trials.”

“Trials?” Connor questioned.

“Yes. We have not had much sport here for centuries. You and your mate will face two trials. Win and I will share with you the secret you so desire.”

“Why not leave Serena out of this? I will compete in any way you want. But I fear for the child she carries.”

“No. My terms are that you face the trials together. I know you are strong, but I wish to test the character of this self-proclaimed mate of yours. That is my offer.”

They shook hands, sealing the bargain. Dòmhnall drank more wine, and Connor ate more meat. All Connor wanted to do was go back to his bed, and to make sure Serena was safe there. But he had to go along with the game Dòmhnall, Dragon Lord, wished to play.

When Connor left, so did Serena’s courage. Talking about going to find Tara while he was here sounded easy, reasonable. But left alone, the thought of what lay beyond that door played on her mind. What if she was caught and she never saw Connor again? She did not want to risk everything to see if the witch as alright.

“But that’s not why you’re going to see her. Is it?” she said to herself. No, she was after information, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get that information from Tara.

Taking her courage back, she went to the door and put her ear to it. She listened for any sounds that may mean there was a big bad dragon outside her door. She couldn’t hear a thing, apart from her heart beating hard in her chest. Her ears filled with the sound until it reverberated around her head.

Feeling ridiculous, she carefully opened the door and looked outside. If anyone was there, she would simply say she needed some water. Wine had been brought with her meal, but she was pregnant, she needed water. In fact, she figured that would be a good excuse to use no matter where she was caught. Although she hoped to get to Tara's room and back again with no encounters of the dragon kind.

Along the hallway, trying not to look as though she was skulking, she followed Connor’s instructions. Passing two more corridors, she turned right, taking the third one and counting the rooms as she went. Door number five stood in front of her. This was it. Before she lifted her hand to knock, she pressed her ear to the door, listening for movement or voices.

There was only one thing she could hear inside. Crying. Serena took a step back, not knowing what to do. Had they hurt Tara? The witch didn’t seem to be the type of person who would cry. Or the type of person who would want someone to see them crying.

However, she needed answers. Raising her hand, she knocked very quietly. When no one answered, she put her hand on the door handle, and pushed it down. “Tara?” she said quietly.

“Serena.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Serena slipped into Tara’s room. “I thought you would have been waiting with the door open. What happened to being able to see the future?”

Her words were met with an eruption of tears. “I’m useless. You heard Dòmhnall, he doesn’t want me.”

“You mean your gift?”

Tara lifted her tear stained face. “Yes, my gift. I thought I could be some use to him.”

“But that’s not really why you’re here is it?”

“Of course it is. There can be no other reason.”

“Really? I think you came here because you think you are his mate.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Tara sniffed and wiped her eyes. “He would never look twice at me.”

“Come on, Tara, you know that’s not how the mating thing works. If you are his mate he wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

“Exactly. You saw he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Having my neck wrung is not an act of love I fly halfway across the country to receive you know.”

“Listen, Tara, keep your secrets, that’s up to you. What I need to know is how much trouble we’re in. You told Connor it would only work out if I didn’t know. Well, now I know. So how much has that messed things up for us?”

“I told Connor it would all work out.”

“That might be what you told Connor, but now I want you to tell me. I know you have no thought for sparing my feelings, so spit it out.”

“Sure, then we can hug each other and weep together.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Now that you know he is here to gain immortality for you, you over react. Question whether that is what you want. To live among these men for the rest of eternity.”

“That’s not what I think.”

“The trials haven’t begun yet.”

“Trials?”

“Tomorrow Connor will go up against one of the dragons.”

“He’ll fight one of Dòmhnall’s dragons? Surely, he’ll win. He’s strong.”

“So is Marcas.”

“But he has a good chance...” Serena insisted.

“Apart from one thing. Marcas will be in dragon form, and Connor will be a man.”

“I need to warn him.”

“That’s not how this is going to happen. When you leave here tonight, they will take you. Serena they will tie you to a stake, and Marcas will guard you.”

Serena shook her head. “I was so stupid to come to your room. Now I’ve ruined everything.”

Tara came to her, all her own sadness forgotten. “It would have made no difference if you had come here or not. Dòmhnall has it all planned out. But there is a way of defeating Marcas.”