Loving Two Dragons (Awakening Cycle Part 3) (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance)

LOVING TWO DRAGONS

(THE AWAKENING CYCLE PART 3)

By

James D Horton

Copyright 2015 James D Horton

All rights reserved.

First Edition: May 2015

ISBN: TBD

CHAPTER ONE

Jennifer

"It will be different," I whisper as our lips meet. "This time..."

He resists for a moment then we're falling into each other. Our lips search, needing and touching, exploring each other. His hands grasp me tightly pulling me closer. I run my fingers up and down his lean, hard body.

"Is this real?" he whispers. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," I breathe.

He lifts me off my feet carrying me to the bed and kisses me with wild abandon. There’s ferocity in each touch of his lips as he nibbles at my skin, tasting me with his tongue. I moan my pleasure and thrust my hips against him with need.

I lay back on the hard mattress as his hands pull and tug to remove my shirt, my full breasts bouncing free. He rises to his knees admiring me, desire burns in his eyes. I pull his shirt off exposing his chest so perfect a sculptor would cry at the beauty of it. Wetness leaks between my thighs, touching him my own desire stokes higher.

"We can't-" he pulls back trying to rise from the bed.

I grab his shoulders and pull him back, forcing him down between my legs. He resists for only a moment then his tongue pleasures me and I cry out moaning. Slowly he kisses up across my abdomen then poises his swollen cock at my silken folds. I thrust forward pushing my need at him and he penetrates me with a long sigh.

Thrusting into me deeply he fills me and expands my delicate walls. He grunts and thrusts fast, hard, pounding into me over and over driving in deeper and deeper. Then he pulls out, grabs my hips, and flips me onto my stomach. Roughly he pulls me onto my knees then he's in me again. The sound of our flesh meeting sets a rhythm that we both grunt and moan in time to. I gasp as tension builds. I need release. He drives hard building it to new heights with each thrust.

One of his hands gathers and twines in my hair, pulling my head back towards him exposing my neck. I lean back, my hair is being pulled with each thrust forward, adding to the sensations overwhelming me. His free hand slaps my ass with a smacking sound and that momentary sting combines adding new layers of pleasure as waves of it pass through my body.

"Give it to me," he grunts.

"Take me! Logan!" I cry out.

I can't hold back, I'm on a cliff. The ground is crumbling underneath me then I'm falling and waves rush over me washing away all conscious thought leaving only the connection between us. We become one. Intertwined, connected at all points, one person spiraling into an open sky.

Slowly I come back. Awareness. Scratchy sheets, warmth, he rests on top of me. Musky scent, sweat, my fingers work their way across his back. Hot breath across my neck. Tingles through my limbs as the last of my orgasm passes.

Slowly he rises off of me to stand beside the bed. His eyes are downcast, sadness is on his face. Pulling his clothes on, he avoids looking at me.

"We shouldn't have," he says walking across the cell.

I frown. Partly, he's right. I'm married to Archer. I just cheated on my husband. Partly he's wrong. Archer loves him every bit as much as I do. How can something that feels so right be wrong?

"Logan-"

"No!" his voice is sharp. "Every time. Every time this happens. Each time I resolve myself that I won't give in to it. Then I do. Then ... you die."

"It can't be-"

"Can't it?" His hand chops the air in front of him. "What else can it be? We've tried everything! Everything except ... me not being there."

Tears fall. This is not the afterglow I expected. His anger fills the room making me feel small. Wrong. Maybe he's right?

"I ... don't know."

He sinks down the wall pulling his knees up and hangs his head low. An ache in my chest alternates with a stabbing pain. I want to comfort him, take him in my arms, but I don't think he'll accept and I can't stand the idea of his rejection.

"We have to break this cycle," he says.

"We will," I stand up. "We will. This is it. Now. Here. We change."

Logan climbs to his feet hope shining in his eyes. "The poets always say love conquers all."

"And how can you not believe a poet?"

He steps close to me, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me tight.

"I believe you," he says leaning in close, pressing his lips to mine.

Hollow clapping sounds from behind me. Logan spins me around placing me firmly behind him. Marathe walks through the chamber door applauding.

"Bravo," she mocks.

Anger runs through me like acid. I clench my fists resisting the urge to attack her wildly.

"Marathe," Logan says. "Feeling a bit voyeuristic are we?"

"I wanted to make sure you were both settling in well," she says leaning back against the door.

"Well when you go back out, could you have them send in some fresh linens? These are atrocious, thread count is awful, very scratchy."

Marathe chuckles as she turns back towards the door.

"I've learned all I need from you today," she says as the door closes behind her. The sound of the lock is loud as it clicks.

"What was that?" I ask.

He turns towards me frowning. "She plays with people's minds. Don't worry about her."

"Easy to say, harder to do."

He smiles. "We have plenty to keep us busy. I'm sure Archer's grand plan will come to fruition soon. How were you captured?"

"He was fighting another dragon attacking us at the cottage. Then she came in and took Elise and I."

"Elise is here too?" he asks concern apparent in his words.

"Yes."

"Damn it."

"What're you worried about?"

Logan looks around in an exaggerated motion staring up at the ceiling and the walls before he answers me with a shrug and negative shake of his head.

"Nothing," he says in direct opposition to his motions.

Of course. We're being watched at all times. Wonderful.

Chapter two

Archer

"Where are they!" I yell.

Anger boils inside and it takes all my control to not give in to letting it rage against my bastard. Mateas smiles through the bars separating us.

"Well, Father," he says. "Mother is taking very good care of them I'm sure."

I slam my hand against the bars but it doesn't faze him.

"What does she want Mateas?"

"You know what she wants. What I want. What we all want. Just one big happy family that's what we want. Reconciliation. Picnics in the park, sitting at the dinner table together every night-"

"Mateas."

He laughs. Hollow, ringing, it echoes around the room crawling up my spine like a cold hand. I stare at my bastard. The coldness of that laugh, the deadness in his eyes, I know I'll have to do something. He's my cross to bear. My mistake. The crop I sowed when I let my emotions and passion run free.

"Too much?" he shakes his head hanging it as if he's sad.

Pressure builds in my head as my heart rate increases. The fire of my dragon nature flames higher. Anger builds, each insult, each joke, fuels the pyre.

"Where are they?"

"Sometimes," he says sitting down on the floor and leaning back against the wall "we have to make choices. You surprise me you know? Look at what you've created."

"Where are they?" I ball my fists, tighter, nails digging into my flesh.

"You have it all yet it's never enough. You could have had her, but you chose the other one. Do you regret it? Do you ever regret sending my mother away?"

"I didn't send her away," I growl. "It was wrong!"

He smiles at me. "Oh I know. I'm wrong Dad. Look at what you've made!"

He leaps to his feet holding his arms out to the side and twirling around in a circle. He throws his head back then hangs it down with his arms still extended in a mockery of the holy cross.

Something snaps. The keys are in my hand and I'm in the cell with him. My fists pound into his face hitting with a satisfying crunch. I hit him again. Then again. Blood flies from his face and mouth. He starts laughing. I hit him again and he's on the floor.

"Oh ho ho!" he laughs. "Dad you really do care!"

I'm kneeling over him. My fist raised back to hit him again. He leans up into where my fist will crash into his face. My other hand is balled in his shirt.

“Where are they!"

"Where did I put them ..."

I hit him then shake him screaming. "Where are they?"

"Okay, okay," he says still laughing. "I'll tell you what I know."

I rise off of him leaving him to his own devices to get up or not.

"Mateas, tell me what you know. Where are they?"

"Well, I can only speak for the last time I saw either of them," he says wiping away the blood running from his nose and mouth. "Logan was hanging suspended from hooks in the ceiling blubbering as I filleted him."

I close the cell door behind me. My fists throb from the beating I just gave him. Empty hollowness fills me. I turn and look at my son. Bleeding, broken, yet still he laughs. This is what I created. My mistake, in conceiving him but just as much in sending her away. I hadn't known and through all these years I've paid for that mistake over and over.

"I should have known she wouldn't trust you," I say.

Hate flashes in his eyes as he puffs himself up. "Oh?"

"She was always smart. Too smart. She'd never trust you," I sigh heavily. "I'll think of another way to find them. Obviously she's working with Green."

"Working with them? Hah! She's using them just like she used those wh-." He cuts off and grins maniacally.

I nod. "Of course she is."

"You think she's smart? You have no idea. She's brilliant. Soon I'll have my throne then you and the rest of them will bow down before me. I'm the rightful King! I should be seated at the head of the Council, not you!"

"You're still just a boy. Lacking in maturity for the matters of men," I snort.

"Your whore didn't think I was a boy by the time I was through with her."

Jennifer!
My vision grays down to a tunnel focused on him as the rage leaps at his words.
No, he hasn't been near her. I had him the entire time. She's fine. Marathe won't touch her.

"Words. What I would expect from an abject bastard like you."

I turn my back on him and start out the door.

"Bastard I may be, but I'm YOUR bastard! You made me what I am. Every ounce of what you think is so bad in me, you made. This is why I love you so much Dad. Without you, I'd be a totally different man."

I turn back towards him one hand on the door out of the dungeon.

"I know son. I'm sorry for that."

I can hear his screams through the door and down the hall as I leave him behind.

Chapter three

Jennifer

I never realized how dependent on my phone I am. There's no measurement of time when you're locked up. There's nothing to pass the time of which I have entirely too much. I keep wondering what time it is. How long I've been here.

"Logan. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" he asks.

"Stay so ... calm. Pass the time sitting here. You've been here weeks longer than I have. I'm already going nuts and you seem so at peace."

He smiles. "I pass the time in memory."

Memories. Of course. Of which I have almost none. I remember my life, this time. I've just started to have memories of having lived before. Though even thinking it sounds odd, like maybe I'm crazy or something.

"Can you share?" I ask him.

"Share?"

"Yes. Your memories."

"How much," he looks thoughtful. "How much have you remembered? How much has Archer told you?"

I snort. "Little enough. He was just starting to ... be honest with me, when all hell broke loose."

Logan nods slowly. "This is, delicate."

"I'm not a flower or some vase to be handled lightly!"

"No, no you're not."

"You should have told me too."

He nods thoughtfully. "I'd hoped by not we could change things. I always hope we can change it."

"Yeah. Well, share something with me."

"What would you like to know?"

"How about," I frown thinking it over. "Us?"

He smiles, chuckles, then shakes his head. "That's a very big subject."

"You have somewhere to be?"

"Point taken. Well enough."

I scoot closer to him on the bed. He places his arm around my shoulder and I lean against his chest. Comfortable, familiar, it feels right.

"Over the years we've done this so many times. We meet, the three of us I mean. You fall for Archer, I fall for you. The hand of fate moves strangely. It happens every time but not the same, there are twists and permutations but the main points are the same.

In one of your lives, this would be during the early medieval times, Archer was then as now a King."

"In the mortal world too?"

"Yes, in that lifetime he was the King. It was a small kingdom but word of his work and his land spread far and wide. The continents had not been divided by the Council yet. So word spread of the things he was doing. What you would now call an early form of democracy. Rights for the peasants, responsibilities for the ruling class.

Then there was you. Rumors of Archer's wife-to-be spread through the land almost as fast as word of his deeds. They said she was a goddess born into mortal form. An angel come to earth as a blessing for his good deeds."

"Logan stop, I'm serious! I want to know the truth. My memories are sketchy at best... Don't play with me please."

He kisses the top of my head. His heart beats slow and steady in his chest.

"I tell no lies my Lady," he says.

"Then you exaggerate. I'm no beauty queen and can't imagine myself as one."

"Well, perhaps it's not you were so exceptionally beautiful but all other women of the time were exceptionally ugly?"

I snort. "Fine, go on flatterer."

Logan chuckles before continuing. "I was young-ish. My brother was- a very famous warrior. I wanted to make a name for myself outside of his shadow. So I traveled to this kingdom that was making such waves in the world.

I was not the only one who had decided the same. A man named Bu'kar, leader of an army of bandits and unsavory types, heard rumors of the riches this kingdom had mounted. He gathered allies and laid siege. Into this, I rode, armed with a sword and my charm..."

As he speaks images form in my mind, accompanying his words.

The castle walls reverberate as another round of boulders flung by catapults hits. Dust falls from the ceiling and instinctively I and the other women attending the wounded duck, covering those we care for.

The siege is in its third day but it's the first day they've brought to bear their heavy weapons. No one is sure how long the castle walls will stand the pounding or if we have enough men left to defend us. Archer's dream of a better land with laws that are just may be coming to an end.

"Do the walls hold?" the boy before me whispers as I clean his wounds.

The cut to his head is severe. His left arm is shattered, set in a splint but it's doubtful he'll ever have full use of it again, even if he has time to heal. Washing his face with cool water I try to break his fever.

"They do," I reassure him.

The hand that touches him, my hand, is dark-skinned, much darker than it should be.

"Good," he says lying back again.

I finish my ministrations then rise going to the next soldier who needs me. The walls continue to vibrate, the dust to fall, the attack started in the early evening and now late in the night it continues. I would think they'd run out of boulders to fling.

There's a shout and a scuffle just outside the doors. All of us turn as they're flung open and four men carry another between them, shouting as they approach.

"Make way! Healer! Healer!"

They race for a free table where the surgeon has been working. As they lay him down I make my way over to offer my assistance. I stop in my tracks. Archer! My betrothed. An arrow sticks out of his right shoulder.

"I'm fine," he growls.

"I'll be the judge of that," the surgeon says stepping through the men.

"Just rip the damn thing out, throw a stitch on it, then let me get back to the walls. We've got to plan a counter attack!"

The surgeon ignores him and inspects the wound, feeling his skin. Archer is clammy and pale, there appears to be a green tint to his skin. The surgeon frowns.

"Appears poisoned," he says then looks at me. "Prepare a salve."

I nod and do as he says.

"Hold him," the surgeon orders the men.

He grabs hold of the arrow, braces one knee against Archer's chest, then in a single motion yanks it out. Archer grunts, curses once, then leans back on the table. The surgeon inspects the wound then stitches it up.

"I'd normally order rest with such a wound, but if you don't get us out of this mess, you'll get all the rest you need on the other side."

Archer grunts again. I bring the salve and bandage over. The surgeon applies them then Archer is on his feet again. He weaves for just a moment then looks at his men.

"Prepare an assault force. Twenty men, best we have. We're going to stop those catapults."

The men all jump to attention, salute, then run off. Archer turns towards me with a smile. I step into his arms.

"We've got this," he says. "Don't you worry."

"Don't get shot," I retort to him. "We haven't had our wedding night."

"And that is something I will not leave this world without having had," he says chuckling.

He strides out, armor clanking, and the door swings shut behind him. My heart beats erratically, my stomach ties into knots, he's going to assault an army with twenty men. If he doesn't succeed we won't stand for long. There's no choice but it does nothing to lessen my fear.

I finish my rounds quickly. Giving what comfort I can to the men before I slip out and climb the tower. There I will be able to watch Archer's defense. Hopefully it will be high enough that God will hear my prayers and protect my man.

They're already riding out in a blare of trumpets. A spearhead force in appearance but in reality a feint. It looks like it might work. They're at the first of the catapults when a vial flies through the air and crashes into it, flames explode around the machine. They wheel their horses riding for the next.

A stampede of horse hooves fills the air as the army rallies to the attack. In moments they're surrounded. Steel flashes but they're outnumbered five to one. Archer is surrounded by his men but one by one they fall. I cry out screaming to God and anyone who will listen as my heart breaks. He'll be killed. Someone has to help!

A trumpet call cuts through the din of battle. Its source, on a nearby rise, is a single man on horse outlined in the glowing red light of sunset. The horse rears back pawing the air, the light glints off silver armor, and the trumpet sounds again. The man holds up a lance. The army surrounding Archer pauses turning to look at the newcomer.

As the horse lands back on all fours it charges into the fray. The lance lowers, taking three men out in a resounding crash of wood and steel. Bodies fly as enemy soldiers scream in pain. Cold steel is in the man's hand now and he fights his way to Archer's side. The handful of men remaining to Archer form a circle back to back with each other, the newcomer at Archer's side.

The surrounding army attacks, reinforcements coming in. This handful of men, ten left, stand against one hundred or more. Over the noise laughter drifts. The newcomer laughs as he fights. He taunts his enemies. Archer is a skilled, even unmatched fighter, but this newcomer- he's an angel of battle come to earth. The speed he moves with, the grace, it's inhuman.

As he whirls, rises, and dodges men fall before him like trees before a lumberjack. Standing one moment then gone in the next. They present no challenge. He and Archer move in unison with each other. Where one attacks high, the other is low. They reverse, turn, rise and fall as one being.

There is a beauty to the way they move. A sense, even from this distance, of connection between the two that goes beyond anything I've ever seen or felt. The other men with Archer fall, one by one, then there's only the two of them left but the attacking army pauses. Fear is in the eyes of the enemy as they face the two men standing back to back.

A large man strides into view wearing armor that makes him appear a demon. He towers over the men around him as he strides through, almost I would think him a giant. The opponents part and close behind him and as he comes closer their morale improves. He starts to run, the earth shaking as each of his massive feet come down. Archer and the stranger say something to each other then they break apart whirling.

Men start dropping as the giant approaches swinging a massive club with steel spikes. He swings at Archer's head who dodges, ducking under to cut at the giant's legs. The giant dances back out of range but doing so puts him close to the newcomer who lands a strike on the monster’s thigh.

The giant cries out in surprise and pain.

"Archer and I worked well together. As I pulled the monster's attention, Archer would attack and force it to deal with him. At last the creature fell before us. The rest of the army fled once their leader was down.

So not only did we stop the catapults, we actually beat the entire army."

Men rush out of the gates cheering as the army retreats. There in the middle of the carnage Archer and Logan face each other. They stare for a long time. I begin to fear that they too will fight. Then Archer steps forward and they embrace each other like brothers long lost.

"We never revealed our true nature if we could avoid it even back then. The Seeming world may not have had the weapons of mass destruction they do now that could take one of us out with little effort, but they had numbers. In sufficient quantity, no matter how good you are, a dragon can still be killed. So maintaining our secret is important."

Arms around each others' shoulders they make their way into the castle. I stand on the steps to the keep waiting. Archer brings Logan right before me...

"That was the first time I laid eyes on true beauty. You eclipsed all things my eyes had seen. In that moment, you stole my heart, no matter that you were his."

He's beautiful. So handsome, so confident, and he just saved my husband-to-be.

"Logan, allow me to introduce you to Jennifer, my betrothed," Archer says.

Logan drops to one knee staring at the ground. "My Lady."

I smile at him uncertain what to do or say. I glance at Archer for guidance but he watches without a word. My heart pounds in my chest.

"I pledge my sword and my honor to you," Logan says. "Never have my eyes perceived such beauty. Until the end of time, I would be honored to protect you."

My chest flutters. There's power in his words. He just met me, how can he swear such? Archer smiles nodding so I take his cue.

"Thank you sir Knight. Thank you for coming to the aid of my betrothed and my Kingdom. Be welcome in our home," I say. 'And in my heart' is what I don't say. Right then he slid in like a thief in the night, unasked for, but not unwelcome.

Logan takes my hand and kisses the ring that Archer gave me as a betrothal gift. Then he rises to his feet and turns back to Archer.

"So, have you room for a new Knight sire?"

"You’ve always been silver-tongued haven't you?" I laugh.

"It's a skill," he says laughing too.