Mate of the Dragon (7 page)

“I have no idea. Maybe when we find our way out, it will all become clear.” He reached out and offered her his hand. “So we had better keep walking, and dropping these stones.”

She groaned. Her stomach had shrunk and she felt lightheaded. “We need food, Dòmhnall.”

“I know,” he said, looking from side to side, into the trees. “But there is nothing. Barely even any birdsong. I don’t want to spend hours trying to hunt for food, when this forest seems deserted. And huge. We have walked for miles and no sign of human civilisation.”

Tara stopped, looking down at her feet. “Did you throw one of those stones?”

“No,” he said, casting his eyes down to where she was looking. “Coincidence?”

Tara turned her head and looked to her right. There, nestled in the trees was the small cabin they had spent the night in. “Really? We’ve walked around in a circle?”

“No,” he said firmly. “We have walked west the whole time.”

Tara flopped down on the floor. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we walk out of here?”

“There is magic keeping us here, Tara. And until we find out why, there will be no escape.”

She placed her hand on her stomach and said, “My stomach is not very happy about that.”

“We had better go and collect some more nuts and leaves. If we plan to stay here for the night, I might go out further and see if there is a sign of rabbits, or even a stream in which I could fish.”

“OK,” she said, getting up. “Just please don’t offer me wolf meat again, because I would rather starve than eat that.”

“Very well,” he said and headed towards the cabin. She noticed the droop in his shoulders. Whether because of hunger or in some way he felt defeated, the fight seemed to be going out of Dòmhnall. She could understand why. He had never gone up against a foe he could not beat. This time he couldn’t even see his enemy; there was nothing to fight. And no way to find them.

A dragon liked to meet his attacker straight on, but there was no straight on. Tara was convinced that no matter what direction they walked in, they would end up back here at this cabin in the woods.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” she said, throwing the can on the floor. “What the hell is going on?”

“Come on, Tara, get up,” Dòmhnall called.

Still cursing, she got to her feet and followed him towards the cabin. She did not relish another meal of nuts and leaves, but right now, it was better than the gnawing hunger in her stomach.

“We’ll fetch the nuts first, and then pick the leaves. I still think we had better stay together in case another wolf attacks.” Dòmhnall led the way back into the trees. She tried to keep her eyes averted to where the wolf lay dead and decomposing, but her eyes strayed there.

“Dòmhnall,” she said quietly. “It’s not there.”

“What’s not there?” he asked, irritably. The strain of no food and no clue what they were supposed to do was almost too much for him.

“The wolf. It’s gone.”

He turned to where the body should have been, and then walked over to the spot he had broken its neck. Nothing. “What the hell?” He looked around, and then bent down to examine the ground. “There is no sign of it been dragged away and no footprints. If something carried the wolf away, it would have to be a massive animal, and there should be indents on the forest floor.”

“So what happened to it?” Tara asked, more scared from the lack of a carcass than by the attack itself. Like the wolf, would
they
simply disappear one day?

“I don’t know.” He stood up, hands on hips, and even the sight of him in his breeches wasn’t enough to calm her fears. She could sense his confusion, and if a dragon as old as Dòmhnall had no idea what was happening, then it had to be bad.

His mind was in turmoil: what the hell was going on here? The wolf carcass had gone, vanished; there was no other way it could have been moved, except by magic.

He got to his feet, and said, “We need to gather some food and return to the cabin.”

“Do you sense something?” Tara asked, as she joined him.

“No. My senses aren’t the same as they were … before.” He ducked his head and strode off, wanting to be alone, but needing Tara there by his side. He had to keep her safe. Glancing over at her, he thought how young she looked, vulnerable. A word he never thought he would use when describing Tara. She always appeared to have solid armour covering every part of her, a barrier to anyone or anything that might try to hurt her.

However, without her magic, that hard exterior was gone. Did he look different to her? Younger, or older? He touched his face. What if all of the years caught up with him, just as they had with the witch who had stolen his heart stone. Once more, he pressed his hand to his heart, realising this had become a habit since it had been returned to him. He held onto it too tightly. It stifled him.

When in reality, it belonged to Tara, so that she could be by his side forever. Slowing down, he walked by her side. She looked up at him and smiled, despite her worries and hunger. His heart stone contracted in his chest. It wanted to go to her; it was where it belonged.

Reaching out for her hand, he took hold of it, feeling her warmth, her strength. She would make him a good, strong mate. An intelligent woman, who would bear his child, an heir to the Stronghold in Spellholm.
If they ever returned
.

Dòmhnall made a promise to himself, and to Tara. Somehow, whatever it took, he would get them out of here. Then he would finally make things right. He would claim her on the stone altar, as he should have done the first time they mated. Then he would give her his heart stone.

One thing this adventure had taught him was he had been stupid, arrogant and disrespectful to Tara. She was his mate. The fates had chosen them to be together for a reason. And he had tried to deny that fate.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. Louder than before, it sounded as though a hammer was being struck upon the heavens.

“What the hell was that?” Tara asked, ducking as though the force of it would beat her to the floor.

“A storm. If it’s heading this way, we need to get inside quickly.” They had reached the trees where they could gather nuts. Dòmhnall stripped off his shirt, and they both picked the nuts from the tree and placed them in this makeshift bag.

They had to spread out to find enough for them both. If this were all they were going to eat, they would need plenty. And plenty of water to wash them down. As another crack of thunder speared the atmosphere, Tara moved back to be closer to him.

“It scares you?” he asked.

She looked up at the sky, which had not changed from its azure blue. “Thunder doesn’t, normally. But there is something not right about this. Where is the lightning? And the sky is just the same, cloudless, blue … it’s wrong,” she finished, her voice a whisper.

Dòmhnall had to agree. This whole place was wrong. Surreal. Unreal. “Come on, let’s get back.” But he knew that they couldn’t stay in the cabin forever, and whatever had put them here was beginning to play out its end game. Deep inside him, his dragon raised its head and puffed smoke out through its nostrils. He felt comforted by its presence, the closest he had been to it since they had come here.

Yet it filled him with disquiet. Deep in its slumber, his dragon had felt the shift in the air. Something was coming.

“What happens now?” Tara asked, they were sat in front of the fire, hardly speaking as they both went over the day’s events. An occasional rumble of that otherworldly thunder reached them, making her shudder.

“I don’t know. We either stay here, or try to find the spot where we first arrived. Hopefully there will be some kind of touchstone that will take us back to our own reality.”

“And if not?” Tara asked, but he had no answers. Neither of them did.

She had chased the same question around and around in her head whilst they had collected the nuts from the trees. Even the discovery of blackberries as they had walked back to the cabin wasn’t enough to lift their mood. They were stuck in a world that did not seem to follow conventional rules.

“Have you tried your magic?” he asked.

“Not today,” she replied.

“Try now. The simplest of things. A spell that needs little magic to work.”

“I’ll try.” She held out her hand, trying to create energy. Nothing. Next she tried closing her eyes and repeating the first spell she had ever learned. “Do I look different?”

He gazed at her. “No. You look the same. Exactly the same.”

“Then I have no magic, if I did, my hair would be bright red. It’s a simple glamour spell, and easy thing to do. Even the lowest of witches can do it with ease.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “And your other gift?”

Tara shook her head. “No. Nothing. I could get used to that, though. No voices in my head, no visions to interpret. No lives to disrupt.”

“I always thought you enjoyed having that kind of power over people.”

She looked up at him shyly. She had coveted that persona, and once upon a time, it had been what she wanted people to think. That she had some kind of power over their lives. Now all it did was confuse her, especially when she had to lie to her friends to make things turn out right. “I used to. But now, it’s old. Do you know what it is like to look at someone and have to decide whether to tell them what you see, or leave them to stumble into a situation with their eyes closed? The times I have tried to circumvent pain, only to find that there is no other way. Not if things must turn out a certain way.”

“We share that, I think?” He moved closer to her, his arm going around her and pulling her close. “It’s not easy being the
Great Dragon Lord of Spellholm
,” he said, mimicking her derisory tone.

“Is that what I really sound like?” she asked, leaning back against his shoulder.

“Yes.” He kissed the top of her head. “Although I would be lying if I said I didn’t find it refreshing.”

“Refreshing? You don’t have to flatter me. I’m an easy lay, remember?” She tilted her head back and kissed his neck, sucking on his earlobe until he groaned with desire. His hand went to her breast and stroked her soft flesh.

“There is nothing easy about you, Tara,” he said, slipping his hand down between her thighs and feeling the heat of her sex. “And I would not have you any other way. You challenge me where others have learned not to. You make me feel alive. Before you came, I was as dormant as my dragon is now. You have awoken the man in me.” He pushed his finger against the barrier of her clothes, making her squirm beneath him, especially when his thumb brushed her clit in a continual circular motion.

“That’s not exactly the message I got when we were in the real world.” She opened her thighs wider, and he pressed against her until she wanted to drag her clothes from her body and offer herself to him.

“I was a stubborn fool, blind to what was right in front of me. I can see how hard it is for you to trust anyone and let them in.” His fingers went to the button of her pants and undid it, his hand sliding down to fit snugly over her mound and then moving lower to press inside her wet sex. “I think we understand each other now.”

“I think we do.” One thing she did understand, was that he knew how to treat her body, knew how to make her come for him, and knew exactly how to touch her body until she would beg like a dog for whatever scraps of his affection he threw her way. He had power over her, a thing she never thought she would desire. But Dòmhnall’s will was strong, and she wanted him to command her, to take away some of the responsibility she held. His power over her was freeing.

Moving away from her, he stripped off his clothes and then undressed her, kissing her fevered flesh, exciting her nerve endings as he moved over her body. Nestling down behind her, her back pressed against his chest, he lifted her leg and draped it backwards across his thigh. She was so exposed to him. His hand going to stroke her thigh, working its way up to her heated need.

Two fingers pressed inside her, and he fingered her roughly, his thumb brushing her clit until she writhed in his arms. He held her close, his free hand going around her, across her chest, fingers finding her nipple and tweaking it hard until she cried out. She was so wet, so ready to come for him, but he didn’t let her.

Instead he stopped, holding her close until she had calmed down, before guiding his cock into her from behind.

“Argh,” she moaned as he thrust into her hard in one fluid motion. Tara pressed back against him, wanting him so badly, disappointed when he moved out of her again. One long lunge filled her again, before he placed his hand over her mound and stroked her clit until she could barely breathe.

Dòmhnall renewed his torture of her breasts; it was all becoming too much for her when he spoke. “This is how we are supposed to be, Tara. You and me, joined. Swear your oath to the dragon lord.”

“Go to hell,” she breathed, although she knew she was in heaven.

“Swear to me, Tara. Be mine forever.” His fingers pressed around his cock, stroking her outer lips where they stretched around him, before returning to the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. She was a mess of emotions: she knew she belonged to him, knew he had power over her, but to swear it, why would he ask her right now, when she was so close to coming? He was being unfair.

“Swear to me, I am the master of your body, the master of your soul.” His mouth was in her ear, his breath warm, inviting and his hands, oh my, his hands and his cock were moving as one to take away her willpower.

One long lunge after another, she desperately wanted to come, but just as she was about to crest that wave he eased off. He was right; he owned her. “I swear.”

And then he gave her the release she craved. His fingers thrumming on her clit, his hands stroking her breasts, sensation overload, leaving her sobbing as she came. Her breathing ragged, a sense of defeat, only taken away when her orgasm hit her, and then she soared as she did when she rode on her dragon’s back.

Endless, he played her body perfectly, milking every drop of pleasure until she was completely spent, her sex filled with his dragon seed, lying helpless in his arms.