Sold To The Dragons (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (15 page)

CHAPTER NINE

I'd never killed anyone before. Not even close. I'd never even so much as lifted a finger against any human being or animal in my entire life. And yet, the second my arrow left the bow, I was sure that I was soon to become a killer. An accidental murderer. And murderer of one of the men I loved. Blake.

He, Steven, and Alec had been teaching Marielle and me how to shoot arrows from longbows. The five of us had already spent several hours out in a clearing within one of the forests surrounding Ashcrest. And I'd thought I'd been getting pretty good. Blake himself had even said I was a natural. But now it looked like my arrow was going to kill him.

I hadn't meant to shoot at him, of course. I'd been aiming for a circular bulls eye target made of cork that he'd just moved a few feet forward, so that Marielle and I might have a better shot at hitting it, since thus far, we'd both come close but had had no luck. After moving the target, he'd stepped maybe eight or ten feet to the side and then had told me to fire away. And so, I had. But I'd done something funny when releasing the arrow, though I wasn't even sure what. And the split second my arrow had left the bow, I realized it was heading straight for Blake, and specifically, his chest. In a fraction of a second, I imagined it piercing his heart, killing him. In that fraction of a second, I felt like my own heart had been pierced with an arrow.

I didn't even have time to scream. I certainly didn't have time to shout for him to get down. The length of time that passed between when my arrow left the bow and when it neared him was only a second, if that. And it was only at the last possible fraction of a second that he ducked. Which was still much faster than the average man would have been able to duck. The average man would've likely had an arrow in his chest. But Blake wasn't an average man. Shifters not only possessed far greater strength than the average man, both in human and in shifted form, but faster reflexes as well. Very thankfully.

The arrow sailed over Blake's head and into a copse of orange-leaved trees behind him. I heaved a sigh of relief, shaking.

Beside me, Steven chuckled. "Not gonna faint, are you?"

I was quite sure he was teasing me about my little fainting spell at the encampment near Dimwood a week earlier.

I turned my face to look at him with jaw clenched. "Hilarious."

His deep blue eyes twinkled.

"Because I'll catch you if you are. Just let me know."

"Please shut up."

With adrenaline making my heart sound like a jackhammer in my ears, I turned my focus back to Blake, cupped my hands around my mouth, and shouted to him. "I'm so, so sorry! Are you all right?"

He nodded and began jogging over, and even from a distance of thirty or forty feet away, I could still see that his delectable full mouth was twitching with a grin. I hoped
he
wasn't going to ask me if I was going to faint, too.

However, something just told me that he wouldn't. That just wasn't his style. Steven was more the joker and the kidder. Which normally I liked, though occasionally, like right then, it could rankle me. But most of the time, his kidding around made me laugh. It made me feel like we were not only lovers, but friends as well. And not just friends, but friends who'd known each other forever.

Blake was proving to be a different story. He was definitely the more serious of the two brothers, which was maybe not surprising, considering he was the oldest. Which wasn't to say that he didn't have a sense of humor, or that he didn't
ever
crack a joke; he did. But we definitely didn't have the same friends-for-years rapport that Steven and I had.

I considered Blake not only my lover but my friend, too, sure. But he almost made me a bit more nervous than Steven did, though
nervous
wasn't even quite the right word.

However, I had no idea what was, despite thinking about it a lot the previous week. Blake maybe just put a few more butterflies in my stomach than Steven did. And not just during times right before intimacy. Just at different other times. Sometimes I could just catch sight of him in the distance and my heart would immediately seem to skip a beat.

In fact, that happened right then as he reached me, came to a stop, and fixed me with a look of concern just faintly blended with a hint of amusement.

"Are
you
all right?"

I scoffed, incredulous. "
You're
asking
me
if I'm all right. I could have killed you. Are
you
really all right?"

With a sexy half-grin curving his mouth, he pulled me into his arms. "I'm just fine. And that shot notwithstanding, your aim is getting better. You'll be taking out Destroyers left and right before you know it."

That was the whole reason Marielle and I were learning how to use a longbow. Or, the whole reason
I
was, anyway. Marielle was learning pretty much just for fun, but I was intent on learning a skill that could take out Destroyers. I wanted to be ready.

            It was only a matter of time before they attacked the city. Everybody knew it, and our spies had more or less confirmed it. We just didn't know
when
Cain, the leader of The Destroyers, would attack with his thousands of shifters. But whenever it was, I was determined to help in the fight. I was determined to redeem myself. I was determined to prove that I wasn't a coward and that I'd make a wonderful mother to the royal baby.

And until I could prove that, I was also determined not to sleep with Blake or Steven, and I hadn't, not since making my decision. Not that this had been easy, though. In fact, resisting temptation had been pretty torturous. Particularly considering that I had been getting very used to being satisfied every single day.

But, after a week, I didn't intend to weaken in my resolve. I simply couldn't risk pregnancy. Not until I knew whether or not I was even worthy of becoming a mom.

While Blake embraced me, Steven gave him just the hint of a glare, just for a second. But, with my face to the side against Blake's hard chest, I saw it, and I knew what caused that response from him. He wasn't angry or jealous that Blake was holding me, at least not enough to warrant the dirty look right then, I didn't think. He and Blake had actually ceased all their snapping at each other and arguing since the three of us had enjoyed our night of passion all together. So, I didn't think that was it. Why Steven had glared at Blake, I figured, was because of what Blake had said about me taking out Destroyers.

After several days of discussion, Blake had agreed to consider the possibility of me using my new bow skills in the battle against The Destroyers. Which certainly wasn't to say that he'd said
yes
, that I could for sure, by any means, only that he’d at least agreed to
consider the possibility
. Though based on comments like the one he'd just made, I could tell which way he was leaning -- allowing me to use my bow and arrow to shoot down Destroyers from some secure location within the castle, like we discussed. Some other women in the city had already been doing this for decades, shooting arrows at Destroyers from the relative safety of their thick-walled stone houses.

Some women had even learned how to shoot guns to become sharpshooters against the Destroyers, though guns weren't quite as effective. It was difficult to even pierce the thick, scaly hides of dragon shifters with bullets, which meant that really, a shooter had to get them right in the eye to make a kill, a difficult task, to say the least. Titanium-tipped arrows
did
pierce dragon hide, though, at least a good deal of the time, when shot with speed and accuracy. The arrows produced in Ashcrest were essentially tipped with small, razor-sharp knives.

I knew that, ultimately, Blake was likely going to agree to let me play a small role in the battle against The Destroyers. Steven, however, was a completely different story. He was dead-set against it, saying it was far too dangerous for me to be anywhere near the battle. He wanted me safe within an underground bunker beneath the castle, or, at the very least, secured within a windowless room. He certainly didn't want me visible to The Destroyers, as I might be, if I were shooting arrows from a window.

I couldn't help but think this was a bit silly, since it wasn't like a Destroyer could just reach right in and grab me. In dragon form, their arms and hands were nearly too big to fit through a window, and their bodies certainly were. If I saw one coming, I could just withdraw into the room after quickly shutting the window, which would block their access, as well as repel any jets of fire breathed. Windows in the castle were made of thick, heat-proof glass with an additional titanium covering that could also be brought down for added protection. Not to mention that I seriously doubted any Destroyer would even be able to get near the castle with so many of our fighters defending it.

Really, my biggest problem, I thought, if Blake and Steven
did
allow me to take part in the fight, was going to be ensuring that my aim was accurate so as not to hurt any of our own shifters. It would be easy enough to tell them apart from Destroyer dragons, as Destroyer dragons always wore thick streaks of red war paint on their faces when going into battle. They seemed to be somewhat of a superstitious group, and had never entered battle without it. So, telling them apart from our men wouldn't be a problem.

Just not having an arrow go wrong, injuring someone I didn't intend to, would be. Like what almost happened with Blake. I knew he'd never say yes to allowing me to participate in the fight if I couldn't drastically improve my skills and become more consistent.

With his arms around me, he planted a kiss on the top of my head. "Enough for today. We can practice more tomorrow."

Horrified, I looked up at him. "No. No, I need to keep practicing as long as there's still daylight left. Which means I still have about two hours of practice."

Beside us, Steven frowned. "I agree with Blake. Enough for today. We've had our fun with you learning how to shoot-"

"This isn't just fun for me, Steven, and you know it." Lifting my head, I frowned back at him. "I want to help in the fight, and I'm going to. I need to. And if you think this is all just fun and games for me-"

"Look. I'm not saying that I don't take your desire to participate in the fight seriously. I do. And despite that last shot, you
are
good with a bow. You're strong and capable, and once you get a little more comfortable and consistent with your aim, you might be a real asset in the annual community deer hunt. But that still doesn't mean I'm going to let you-"

"Make my own choice when it comes to whether or not I'm going to participate in the fight against The Destroyers. Yeah, I get it."

Before Steven could respond, Blake heaved a sigh. "I don't think this is the time or the place to discuss this further. Especially considering that you and I need to head back soon, Steven, for the council meeting." Blake lowered his voice a notch. "And also considering that after that, we need to prepare for what we have planned later."

My curiosity piqued, I looked from Blake to Steven, then back to Blake. "
What
exactly do the two of you have planned later?"

Blake glanced over at Marielle and Alec, who were standing no more than ten feet away, before moving his mouth to my ear and lowering his voice even further. "You'll see. But let's just say that Steven and I have a little torture session planned. A little torture session just for you."

CHAPTER TEN

I didn't exactly like the sound of Blake and Steven's "torture session." Because something told me that whatever activities it was going to entail, they had been designed with one purpose in mind. Which was, of course, to get me to reconsider my choice to not enjoy any further intimacy with Blake and Steven. I just knew it.

I didn't care, though. I figured I'd use the opportunity to flex my personal strength and fortitude muscles. Because after all, if I was ever going to convince Steven to let me participate in the fight, I was going to need those muscles to be at an all-time high level of strength.

In response to what Blake had said about my "torture session," I just shrugged. "Whatever. You and Steven can go head off to the council meeting, and then whatever the two of you have planned for me after that, fine. But as for right now, I have more practicing to do in preparation for the fight. So, if you'll please excuse me."

I drew an arrow out of a drawstring bag on my back, fitted it into my longbow, and aimed at the cork target.

Near me, Steven spoke in a staged whisper. "Checked the area for bystanders?"

Gritting my teeth, I ignored him and let my arrow fly. It not only hit the target, but it even came within inches of the bulls-eye in the center.

I turned to Steven, wearing what I was quite sure was a smirk. "I'm sorry. What were you saying? You were volunteering to be a target?"

Returning my smirk, though with a little twinkle in his deep blue eyes, he came over and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth. "See you this evening. Your place. Seven o' clock sharp."

He strode by me, giving me a swift little swat on my rear along the way, making me gasp. Though my gasp was one of outrage more than any slight pain.

"How dare you, Steven!"

Continuing on across the clearing toward the woods, he glanced at me over his shoulder. "See you at seven. And looking forward!"

I was, too, but just so that I could exact some sort of revenge on him. Maybe I'd give him a little smack in return. The thought was awfully tempting. As was the sight of his broad back, slim hips, and firm backside as he walked away. I was going to need every last ounce of my strength and fortitude that evening.

While I huffed and fumed a bit, stringing another arrow into my bow, Blake gave me a kiss on the cheek before following Steven into the woods. Marielle and I spent the rest of the afternoon practicing our archery skills under Alec's coaching and supervision. I hit the target at least a dozen more times, and one of those times, I hit the bulls-eye directly. I'd pretended it was the face of a Destroyer in dragon form.

That evening, around six, after returning to the castle, I changed out of my archery clothes, showered, and dressed in comfortable lounge wear. Normally, if Blake and Steven were coming over, I would have worn something a bit dressier or sexier, of course. I may have even answered the door wearing nothing but a lacy bra and underwear set. However, this particular evening, I didn't want to wind them up further than they already seemed to be wound with their little torture session plans, whatever those were. I also certainly didn't need to wind myself up. Which, after a week of not having any physical intimacy, let alone complete satisfaction like I was used to, would definitely not be hard to do, I realized.

I'd just started rummaging through the fridge, deciding what to make for dinner, when a knock on the door sounded. I wondered if Blake and Steven were going to let me eat before torturing me.

Though when I answered the door, it was clear that not only were they going to, they were going to treat me to a feast.

With his mouth curving in the hint of a grin, Blake stood by a cart laden with silver-lidded dishes. "Room service."

Steven lifted two bottles of champagne he was holding, one in each hand. "Room service even remembered champagne."

I folded my arms across my chest. "If this is your idea of a 'torture session'...well, you're failing miserably at being torturers."

Steven snorted, eyes twinkling. "Oh, you just wait."

I reluctantly invited them both inside, and the three of us headed out to the kitchen, with Blake wheeling out the cart. Considering his height, his muscular physique, and his general insanity-level handsomeness and commanding presence, I had to admit he looked absolutely adorable wheeling the little cart. Which he even had to stoop to do, being that he was so tall. I had to work mightily hard to suppress a smile.

But I didn't work hard enough. Because once the three of us were in the kitchen, Blake gave me a faux-stern look with a shake of his head.

"Do not smile, Kira. Remember...you're above all temptation. We're your enemies now, because you've decided not to enjoy physical intimacy with us any longer, which certainly puts us at odds. So, don't you dare smile. Don't you dare enjoy yourself."

I snorted. "I'm not. Not even close. And as far as being above all temptation, you got that part right. The two of you haven't even seen just how far above temptation I can be."

Steven, who was standing just two or three feet away from me, suddenly peeled his shirt off. "Is that a fact?"

Faced with the sight of his bare, broad chest and its hard, muscular ridges, I couldn't manage to respond right away.

But eventually, I nodded. "Yes. Yes, that's a fact. I'm miles above temptation. I'm actually light years above it."

I wanted that to be true. I hoped that would be true. But right then, I was having a very difficult time keeping my gaze from Steven's chiseled pecs and washboard abs. And I was only able to look away when Blake peeled his shirt off as well, diverting my attention.

He flung it away to a counter top before looking at me. "I, for one, am personally glad to hear that you're so far above temptation. Because I can't promise that Steven and I won't lose more clothes over the course of this dinner. And in fact, I can almost guarantee we will. Because for one, this
is
a dinner designed with your torture and discomfort in mind. And for two, Steven and I believe that chefs should be allowed to be as comfortable as they like while they cook."

I pulled my gaze up from Blake's chest to his face with great difficulty. "But isn't the food already cooked?"

He shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Your two room service chefs were delayed at a council meeting, so instead, we had to bring over all our dinner ingredients on this cart. Though maybe that was best, because now, we're going to cook for you shirtless while you sit and watch, completely above all temptation, as you've assured us you are."

So, I'd lied. I certainly wasn't light years above temptation; I wasn't even miles above it. I was wondering if I could even manage to remain inches above it now.

Especially when Steven took me by the shoulders, his touch firm and warm, and led me over to sit at the casual dining table in the kitchen. "We'll eat at the formal dining table, but for right now, you can just have a seat right here and enjoy a glass of champagne."

He seated me and poured me a glass, and I sipped it while he and Blake got to work cooking sirloin steak with mashed potatoes and sauteed vegetables for sides, one of my favorite meals.

After chopping a carrot and putting the pieces into a pan, Steven grabbed a long, thick zucchini and pointed it at me. "You just continue relaxing, giving no thought at all to temptation, okay?” Ignoring him, I took a sip of my champagne. I really didn't know how to respond. I'd never had a zucchini pointed at me before. And I couldn't help but realize that it was just about the same thickness and length as Blake and Steven's rods when fully erect, which made me recall exactly how good it felt to make love to them. Which I was absolutely positive had been Steven's intent.

I watched him and Blake while they fixed dinner, each of them shirtless, each of them barefoot, each of them wearing jeans that hung low on their slim hips. I began fighting not to recall the night the three of us had shared passion together, and how exciting it had been. I began fighting not to think about how easily that shared passion could likely become a reality once again, if I just said the word.

After putting cream, butter, and boiled potato halves in a bowl to mash, Steven paused in his task, set the potato masher down on the dark granite counter top, and seemed to speak to no one in particular. "In order to really get into this mashing, I think I need to be completely comfortable. And I can't ever be fully comfortable in jeans. They just always feel a tad constricting, for some reason."

I turned my gaze away and took a sip of my champagne, knowing what was coming next. And when I next looked up, which I did almost against my will, I saw that I'd been correct in my guess about what Steven was going to do. He now stood dressed only in a pair of midnight blue boxer briefs that matched his deep blue eyes. His jeans had been tossed in a corner of the stone-floored kitchen.

He wagged another zucchini at me. "You just continue relaxing over there, okay? Don’t pay any attention to any temptations that might be present over here. Which...I probably didn't even need to say that to you. Just because of how many light years above temptation you are."

Again, I didn't respond to him. I wasn't really even paying much attention to his words or his zucchini. At least, not the one in his hand. The outline of the one in his boxer briefs, however, I was having a difficult time looking away from. It wasn't at all erect yet, though I knew that could change with just a kiss or a simple touch from me. I took another sip of my chilled champagne, because the kitchen was suddenly getting very warm.

After putting our steaks on a broiling pan in the oven, Blake lost his jeans as well, and the kitchen got even a bit hotter. Clearly, I thought, he and Steven were very serious about torturing me.

Soon, Blake came over to me at the table with a wineglass and a bottle of Merlot. "Would you like to switch to red wine for the meal?"

I didn’t know. With him standing so close to me in his underwear, with the bulge beneath the fabric only a foot or so from my face, I could barely even think. I was only able to vaguely recall that I enjoyed the nontraditional pairing of champagne with steak, and I shook my head.

“I’ll stick with champagne. But, thanks."

With a little smile, he turned to get the champagne bottle off the counter, giving me a spectacular view of his tight rear covered only by the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. The kitchen became even a bit hotter still, and I covertly fanned my face. Or, I
thought
I'd done it covertly, but Steven had seen.

He gave me an innocent sort of look. "Getting a little hot? Understandable with the broiler on. You're welcome to get comfortable along with us, and lose your top if you'd like. Or your pants. Or both. Whatever."

Picking up the champagne bottle, Blake gave him a mock-scowl. "Steven, stop. You know she's light years above temptation, so I highly doubt she'll be removing any clothes at all. No matter how hot the kitchen gets."

Staring at the broad expanse of Blake's chiseled chest, I forced myself to move my head in a nod. "That's right. All my clothes are staying on. Because I'm not making love to either of you, or both of you at the same time. I'm not going to let both of you...run your hands all over my body, or...." Realizing what I was saying and to what direction my thoughts were spinning off to, I pulled my gaze up to Blake's face, using every ounce of my strength to do it. "All of my clothes are staying on."

He came over with the champagne and began refilling my glass. "Glad to hear it. Because we'd definitely hate to see one as strong-willed as you give into any sort of temptation. And we'd hate to see one as strong-willed as you abandon her reasons for doing so. Which...by the way. Tell me your reasons again for not wanting to make love?"

I struggled to remember. I knew my reasons had something to do with me, and motherhood, and cowardice, and proving something, but right then, I couldn't quite seem to put all the pieces together.

I gave my head a little shake, lifting my gaze from Blake's long, muscular thighs to his full mouth. "I don't know. I guess I just want you to...I guess if you're just going to stand around my kitchen nearly naked like this, you may as well kiss me."

My resolve was crumbling, and the fact wasn't lost on me. But it had been one very long week since I'd seen Blake and Steven nearly naked. And I supposed the sight was more than any mere mortal woman could be expected to take. Even one who'd thought she could somehow manage to keep herself above temptation.