Dragons Don't Love (9 page)

“
My fighting clothes are
ruined,” she says against my chest.

“
I will have twenty made in
their exact image within the month. This one is my favorite.” It’s
also been driving me wild all day.

Her cheek wiggles a bit against my
chest. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that each one delivered is more
revealing than the last.”

I smile above her head. “You have no
need to worry that the trend will continue. If there is any less
material, you will be naked.”

She giggles now and I like it. Her
voice drops when she says, “Dragon?”

“
Yes?”

“
I don’t wish to
beg.”

Chapter Seventeen

Roxanne

He flew me back to his castle and
deposited me in my room without comment to my statement.

I want him. I have for days. My
heartbeat accelerates and warmth floods me whenever he comes near.
And when he touches me… my body burns. The damn dragon knows this
too. I see it in his eyes—a flash of silver that turns me into a
quivering mess.

I think of the unclaimed brides. When
they are not chosen, most willingly give up their virginity the
night of the claiming. It’s a huge event in the village, or so I’ve
been told. Thinking I would kill the dragon, I planned to die a
virgin. If not by the hand of the dragon, the people of my village
would have no choice but to do it themselves. This would be their
only chance to reduce the vengeance from the other
dragons.

Now, my virginity is the last thing I
want.

He’s incredibly arrogant and at the
same time, absolute perfection. He knows it and I feel drab in
comparison. Then his blue eyes spark with silver light as he looks
at me. His desire ignites my soul and his gaze says he wants me
regardless of my imperfections. At night, I dream he holds me in
his arms and we make slow, tender love. I run my fingers across my
skin, but it’s his hands I want touching me. These feelings are
quite frustrating because my imagination can only do so much. I
have no idea what my body needs. To touch myself in certain places
has been forbidden to me since I was a child. Those rules continue
to hold me back. I am the bride of a dragon and his to do with as
he pleases. With only a very light stroke, he ignites a heat
between my thighs. His touch appears casual, but it’s not. Each
brush against me is calculated so my heart races and shivers run
across my skin. Then his lips travel my neck and tops of my
breasts. My breath expels in small gasps and the secret place
between my legs longs for more. I have no control over myself. More
than anything, I truly want to beg.  

Then he whispers something about
fucking and begging. My clearer thoughts come back into focus. He
has no idea that the word he uses disgruntles me so. I’ve heard the
village boys say it when they didn’t know I was around. I think of
the word as something dirty that the brides were expressly
forbidden to do, or even speak of. I want my union with the dragon
to be extraordinary. It was Acasia’s story that started me on the
path I’m now on, but it’s the dragon who has completely captivated
me. He can be good and kind, irritating and mean. But most of all,
he’s… special.  Fucking is not special in my mind.

As the days pass, I grow resentful and
even more confused. He locks me in my room each night and I sleep
alone. It’s the loneliest I’ve ever been. In my village, I ran free
for hours through the forest. Now, I’m trapped within these walls
and I hate it.

Then today in the water, he kissed my
lips for the first time. His taste intoxicated me and my head went
dizzy. The minute his mouth pressed against mine, I knew. I knew I
would beg. On claiming day when I tried to kill him, I had no
intention of begging for my life. Begging for his body is somehow
worse and goes against everything I stand for. Even so, I will give
in.

Each night after the door
to my room is barred seems endless with so many thoughts keeping me
from sleep. I think about the years ahead of me. I will never see
my parents again and the sadness is a dull ache. As
the
claimed bride, at
least I know they will be cared for. But I will grow old and the
dragon will stay as he is now. This thought terrifies
me.

My parents love one another. My mother
could have left my father and found another man to support us when
he was injured. She refused. I remember how beautiful she was back
then. A hard life of doing my father’s work as well as her own
makes her appear older than she is. Then she smiles at my father
and the years fall away.

I want that kind of love. I can’t fool
myself, though. Two haggard humans a few years apart in age are one
thing—fifty years between a human and a dragon completely different
once I’m wrinkled and gray. How did his previous brides stand it? I
wonder if they became a burden to him.

Then there’s the fact that he won’t
use my name. For this reason, I refuse to use his. I sometimes use
the term ‘sir’ when we train. My go-to is simply ‘dragon’. I can’t
help a small sigh escaping as I think of our daily training
sessions. He never wears a shirt. His chest and arms are
magnificent as he wields a sword. It’s quite hard to concentrate
while his muscles flex and ripple with each movement. I’ve had
several near-fatal accidents when my daydreams take me away from
the sword play. He gets so angry even though it’s entirely his
fault.

Mostly, I’m sick of the constant inner
turmoil that eats me alive. I know I will give in and lose his
game. It’s just a matter of time.

A knock at the door startles me. The
man I’ve been mooning over enters. He carries a dinner tray and I’m
disappointed that I will not be visiting his rooms. His outer rooms
are covered in the most glorious works of art, sparkling jewels,
and pieces of gold finery. The mass number of items intrigues me
greatly. But this isn’t the reason I long to enjoy our meal there.
It’s in those rooms that he touches me and my loneliness recedes.
Only once has he touched me here in my rooms and that was the first
day. Why is he doing this to me today of all days?

He doesn’t speak as he rests the tray
on the table and returns to the door. He lifts something from
outside and I gasp when I see it. My very own halberd. My heart
races and I practically jump from foot to foot at the sight. I must
fight not to run over and grab it.

He watches me with knowing eyes and a
slight grin on his lips. “It will fit your hand perfectly and we
will begin training with it tomorrow.” He rests it on the table by
the tray without taking his gaze from mine. “Come here, bride.” I
don’t hesitate. I walk the few steps separating us. “Turn around,”
he says in a low voice that sends chills through me.

I’m now wearing the first training
outfit he gave me. He’s dressed in the pants he calls jeans. No
shirt and his hair is hanging free. I turn and his hands go
immediately to my hips. My breath hitches as he leans in and
breathes along the skin from my shoulder to my neck. Without
touching anything but my hips, his lips, a hair’s breadth from my
skin, move up to my ear and his whisper makes me feel faint, “I
want you to beg.”

He releases me and leaves the room.
For the first time, he doesn’t bar the door or even close it. I
take several deep breaths and finally look beneath the napkin that
covers the food tray. It’s dinner for one.

We are both so stubborn. Eating is one
of his rules, so I eat. I’m not hungry and only manage half the
food before pushing it away. He wants me to beg. Nothing has
changed. Without his touch to tempt me, I don’t honestly know if I
can. I shower and put on one of the sheer sleeping gowns provided
by the dragon. I blow out the single candle on the stand by my bed
and lie down. The isolation brings me close to tears. Why is he
doing this?

Moonlight shines through the open door
and I fall asleep wondering if the dragon will ever care about
me—my emotional needs as well as physical. I am nothing more than
his possession and it hurts.

I wake from a dream. His hands were
gliding over my flesh and burning a trail so hot I’m surprised my
skin doesn’t melt from my bones. It’s only a dream because the
dragon isn’t here. I’m alone. I have no idea what time it is. I
need him. It’s an aching pulse so strong I can no longer deny
myself.

I light the candle and carry it to the
tower stairs. I’ve never walked this path alone. The dragon has
always been with me. Each step is mental agony. I’m surrendering
and allowing my needs to carry me to his room. This is wrong and I
know I will always regret that I was not strong enough to win this
battle of wills. Is this how all the brides feel? Are the dragons
so irresistible that we are doomed to bend to their will from the
very first time we see them? That’s how I feel. I am giving up
another freedom. It doesn’t matter that he locks me in a small room
each night—I had freedom to control my thoughts. The freedom to say
no.

I’m no longer winded from climbing
hundreds of stairs, but tonight, I’m having trouble catching my
breath. The dragon wins. I’m just as every other claiming bride. I
couldn’t kill him, lost all desire to kill him, and now he will
possess my body and control everything.

At last, I enter his rooms. The front
area is where we eat. There’s a large table on one side. A large
doorway opens to a medium-sized room that is dedicated to books. I
can’t read, so I’ve never asked to look at one. Reading and
schooling never seemed important. Every day of my life held one
focus: the death of a dragon.

Slowly, I inch my way to his bedroom.
I’ve only ever taken a quick glance inside. He has a large window
with an outer ledge so he may shift. It’s not the window I’m
looking for, though.

He’s propped on his side, his eyes
open and appraising. I’ve seen him naked so many times, but this is
different. A thin cover rests over his hips and leaves his chest
and one leg bare. He’s beautiful and I’m completely
inadequate.

I can no longer hold back my tears.
They trail down my cheeks. I said I wouldn’t cry when he beds me
and now it’s a lie. I inhale. “I’ve come to beg, dragon.” I take a
step forward intending to walk closer then drop to my
knees.

He’s out of the bed before I can. I’m
unsure what’s happening when he goes to his knees before me and
lifts my hands. He kisses the backs of both then gazes up at me
with the most exquisite eyes in existence. The silver sparks ignite
within the blue and I’m drawn into the swirls. Desire burns between
us. I have no idea what to do now. Why is he on his
knees?

His gruff voice answers my unasked
question. “I’m begging you to beg, bride.”

It’s been one week and one day. It
matters not. At this moment, I know I love him. Acasia said it
would happen and I didn’t believe her. The love swells inside as I
go to my knees. “I’m begging you to love me.” I can’t use his
horrible word.

He releases one hand and lifts his. He
takes hold of a piece of my hair that’s covering my breast and
moves it over my shoulder. I hear sorrow in his next words. “I
cannot love you, my beautiful bride. I will cherish you, care for
you, and fuck you, but your loss will be too painful when you leave
me. I must protect my heart. I will never love another bride and
for that I’m truly sorry.”

I close my eyes as more tears escape.
His words hurt. I understand, though. How hard it must be to love
again and again and suffer that pain. I’m selfish that I want his
love. I open my eyes and use my unencumbered hand to wipe my tears.
“I will take what you offer, dragon.”

He pulls me close—his large arms
circle me and spread warmth over my cold flesh. After a moment, he
leans back slightly and slides my gown down. It pools at my knees.
In one movement he stands and lifts me. I’m cradled in his arms as
he strides to the bed and lowers me. His body comes down, his
elbows keeping his shoulders back. One hand slides beneath my head
as he fists my hair and lifts my lips to his.

“
You are so lovely,” he says
just before his lips press to mine.

He is the beautiful one. His large
member rests between us. Tingles start between my thighs and also
at my breasts where they barely touch his chest. This tingle is so
much better than when I touch myself. I understand the rudiments of
sex. I’ve seen animals mate. I don’t understand how he will fit
inside me. This dance we do is as old as time. It doesn’t make me
less apprehensive. His lips help quell my fear. His tongue enters
my mouth and my heart nearly explodes from my chest. He leans more
fully against my breasts and his hand travels down the side of my
body, clear to my knee. He’s so much larger than I am and I feel
even smaller beneath him. His fingers skim back up and slide
beneath my bottom. He kneads one round globe that I’ve always
considered too large. I’ve caught him staring at my behind so many
times that I don’t think he agrees with my assessment. His lips
leave mine and move over the flesh they know so well. Every day I
have at least one new mark. I wear them proudly, not that anyone
saw. His manservant never even glances my way.

His hand doesn’t stop at the top of my
breast this time. He grasps my hair tighter as he leans slightly to
the side. He squeezes my breast and I never considered that the
force he uses would feel so incredible. Then his lips close on the
small bud at the tip of my breast. I arch my back when he applies
gentle suction. A sigh escapes my lips. Just the edge of his teeth
press into the sensitive skin and I jump. He licks and I want to
scream out my need.