The Dragon's Lover (4 page)

“At this rate,” she said with languorous sarcasm, “we
should reach the lowlands in three, oh maybe four—” she paused.

“—months.”

Raine shifted in her arms, unrepentant. “I blame
you.”

“Me?” Weynild said in surprise.

“Yes,” Raine replied, “you were the one who was
flying so,” she stopped, trying to think of the appropriate term,
then found it. “So rhythmically.”

CHAPTER 3

It was not several months, but it did take them much
longer than Weynild anticipated due to additional unplanned stops.
But it was by far the most enjoyable journey she had ever made from
her mountain keep to her flatland home. When they finally arrived,
the dragon glided into an open meadow next to a sizable stream.
Raine slid from her back, landing lightly on her feet even from the
great height. She watched in fascination as Weynild transformed
into her human shape, the brilliant light from the transmutation
blinding her. She glanced around as her eyesight recovered.

There was a small cottage nestled between some hills
and a grove of trees. An unkempt garden bordered the hut and a
stream that could almost be called a river flowed past at a gentle
pace. Fish jumped into the air, the sunlight glinting off their
scales and creating tiny rainbows as they plopped back into the
blue water. The hills transitioned to mountains on the far side of
the stream, and even in the beauty of spring, snow dusted the very
tips of their peaks. The abundant wildlife that had fled at the
dragon's approach was already beginning to return. Raine smiled as
a hare approached, seemingly baffled at the presence of these
interlopers in his garden as he darted into the underbrush.

Weynild watched her closely. “Are you disappointed
that I do not have a palace full of gold and precious jewels?”

Raine turned to her. “Why? Because you’re a
dragon?”

“That is what most expect from me,” Weynild
replied.

“I would think most would expect death from you,”
Raine said. “And as for palaces, gold, and jewels, I could acquire
those on my own if I desired. Those things have no intrinsic worth;
they are valuable because people value them. And I do not. ”

“But this,” she said, nodding toward the spectacular
view, “this is priceless.”

Raine sensed the answer pleased the dragon and
Weynild motioned for her to follow. They pushed into the small
cottage. It was not secured, but the location was so deep in the
wilderness it was unlikely that anyone would come across it even by
accident. And a glance around the simple, rustic interior told
Raine there was nothing that could be stolen, anyway. A few pots
over the hearth, a wooden table, a few books and scrolls lying
about, and a bed off in the corner piled with furs.

Weynild again watched her closely, gauging her
reaction. “This is charming,” Raine said, utterly genuine, “and I
see the only thing that I really require.”

Weynild glanced to the bed. “I've seen you in action,
my dear. That is certainly not a requirement.”

Raine smiled a wolfish grin and Weynild again
marveled at the perfect blending of her heritage. The utter
confidence of the Scinterians married with the unrestrained
sexuality of the Arlanians was a potent combination, one that
Weynild had never seen or would have even deemed possible.

Raine examined the hearth. “I am a decent hunter, but
I confess I am not a very good cook.”

Weynild knew that “decent” was likely a masterful
understatement. In all probability this was a creature that could
kill everything that moved.

“I am a fair cook,” Weynild responded.

Raine assessed the silver-haired woman's curvaceous
form. The human form was much like the dragon in that it was lean,
but the added softness in certain areas was most welcome. “So,” she
said uncertainly, “how much exactly should I bring back for
you?”

Weynild laughed. “My appetite tends to mirror
whichever form I am in. As a dragon, I consume massive quantities
of food. As a human, I consume far less.”

“Then why did you consume half a cow on the
mountain?” Raine asked. “You spent the majority of your time in
human form.”

“I was burning a lot of energy,” Weynild said, her
golden eyes glowing.

“Ah,” Raine said, a smile tugging at the corner of
her mouth, “then I shall bring back as much food as I can
carry.”

She could carry quite a bit. Weynild watched the
lithe form carefully pick its way up the rocky path, an entire elk
draped over her shoulders. The massive beast dwarfed the woman
carrying it, but she bore the load with ease. She shrugged the
carcass from her shoulders, dropping it to the ground in front of
the cottage. She then slung the folded bow from her back, dropping
it to the ground as well. Weynild eyed the weapon.

“It has been centuries since I have seen one of
those.”

Raine grinned. “Like most Scinterian weapons, it is
not for the faint-hearted. It can do as much damage to an untrained
person wielding it as to an adversary.” She picked up the weapon in
its center at the riser and with a violent flick of her wrist,
unsnapped it outward in both directions with a sharp twisting
motion. It became apparent why it was carried in a folded position
as the entire leading edge was jagged and wickedly sharp, allowing
it to be used as much as a melee weapon as a ranged one. The only
place one could hold the bow safely was at the riser. Although
Raine had flicked it open in a practiced motion that appeared
effortless, the actual maneuver was almost impossible to do. The
force required to overcome the tension of the bow's string and lock
the limbs into place was monumental, the technique, masterful. So
not only was it a stunningly lethal weapon, it was unusable for any
but a trained Scinterian. Raine put the bow aside and set about
skinning the elk.

Weynild began making the stew while Raine finished up
by cleaning and sharpening her weapons. She watched the
silver-haired woman go about the meal preparations, finding their
situation highly entertaining. Here she was, a warrior, a wanderer
and adventurer, probably the last survivor of two mythic races. And
across from her was a dangerous and supernatural creature of
enormous power. Together they presented quite the domestic scene.
She went outside, split a few logs, then brought them in to build
up the fire. It was mildly chilly outside but the cottage was
wonderfully warm.

Weynild's description of her cooking ability was as
understated as Raine's regarding her hunting: the stew was
delicious. This small domestic detail only increased Raine's mirth
as they sat across from one another at the wooden table.

“So where exactly were you headed before you came
looking for me on my mountaintop?”

Raine began working on her second helping. “I was
heading in the direction of the Hyr'rok'kin army.”

Weynild's eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight.
“And you seek to involve yourself in this conflict?”

Raine sobered abruptly. “None will escape this
conflict, so I thought to meet it head on. I have seen these demon
spawn gather many times in my life. They constantly bedevil the
sons of men and dwarves, and at times even the Alfar and Ha’kan.
But somehow this time it seems different.”

Her gaze grew distant as she stared into the fire.
“There are more of them, and they move quickly in a swarm across
the land. Everything in their path is destroyed.”

The dragon examined her companion. Raine's eyes had
been violet from the time she had revealed herself in the mountain
cave, but they now returned to the deep blue of the Scinterians.
Weynild wondered if Raine consciously controlled the color or if it
merely mirrored her emotions.

“I have been alive a great deal longer than you and I
have seen the Hyr'rok'kin manifest many times over the centuries.
But you are correct, this time it is different.”

This statement filled Raine with a deep foreboding
and it caused her eyes to cool to a lighter blue. Weynild observed
the change and was compelled to ask.

“The color of your eyes,” she said, “do you control
it or does it mirror your internal state?”

Raine's distant gaze returned to focus on the present
and her eyes warmed immediately to the darker blue.

“It is a little of both,” she said. “Scinterian eyes
vary from gray to blue. I have always been able to hide my Arlanian
heritage fairly effortlessly.” A smile tugged at the corner of her
mouth as her eyes went to a dark lavender. “At least until
recently, when the fact that I was Arlanian became apparent the
minute I laid eyes on you.”

The violet eyes lingered on Weynild's lips. The lips
were full with a hint of the red of her dragon scales, a touch of
color most women could not recreate with the most expensive dyes
and balms purchased from the most exotic markets. It was a wondrous
contrast to her silver hair and gold eyes. Raine's eyes lowered to
the swell of her breasts.

“My god, you are beautiful,” Raine said.

The compliment charmed Weynild if for no other reason
than the Arlanian creature in front of her was the most strikingly
beautiful being she had ever seen. She had seen beauty without end,
human, elven, demon, even the immortals. But there was nothing
quite like the creature in front of her. She spoke very softly.

“When I am inside you, your eyes are such a dark
purple they are almost black.”

“Really?” Raine said, trying to maintain her
composure. All of the warmth in the cottage seemed to have begun
orbiting her body, particularly her lower body. It settled quite
comfortably between her legs. Her eyes flicked to the bed.

“Perhaps we should experiment with that.”

The dragon stood, gesturing toward the pile of furs.
“After you.”

Raine's face was buried in the furs, her body
trembling as the last waves of her climax wrenched themselves from
her body. Weynild collapsed on top of her, her own pleasure coming
to a last, shuddering halt. Neither moved, the heat and contact
between them a palpable bond.

At last, Weynild rolled on to her back, pulling the
exhausted girl with her. Raine stretched, shifted, then curled her
body to fit firmly against the hip and thigh of her lover. Her arm
draped over the lean stomach and her head rested upon the firm
breasts. The dragon stretched in an almost feline motion.

“You know,” Raine said casually, “it's probably a bit
difficult to see the color of my eyes when you're mounting me from
behind like that.”

This brought a low chuckle from Weynild. Their
love-making was different every time and could range from gentle
passion to thunderous lust. This had been almost violent and
incredibly enjoyable.

“My apologies, my dear. But that is how dragons
mate.”

“I wasn't complaining,” Raine said, curling even
closer, “it was merely an observation.”

They settled into a languorous silence and Weynild
thought perhaps Raine had fallen asleep. She herself was quite
comfortable, but only slightly drowsy. Raine's voice disabused her
of the notion that she was sleeping.

“Although I would never ask you which is your 'true'
form, I do have a question for you.”

Weynild raised her head slightly to glance down at
her lover. Raine was examining her breasts quite intently. It
seemed to distract her for a moment, and she caressed the globe
with her fingers, straying close to the sensitive area which sprang
to life beneath her touch.

“Be careful, girl,” Weynild warned, “Do not fan a
fire you are unwilling to extinguish.”

“Hmm,” Raine murmured, then leaned and took the
breast into her mouth.

The contact took her breath away, and Weynild arched
as the tongue and lips feathered a torturous kiss. Raine withdrew
only slightly, just enough to speak.

“I am always willing,” she said, then returned to her
kiss.

Weynild gritted her teeth as the heat began to rise
in her body. “You had a question?” she said through clenched teeth,
her tone filled with the almost malevolent sensuality that Raine so
loved.

“Yes,” Raine said, pausing briefly, “it is rather
impertinent, though.”

This comment was accompanied by a shift to the other
breast, lest it want for attention. Weynild again gasped.

“Impertinence from you. How unusual. Ask your
question, girl.”

Raine paused, then looked up at the glowing eyes, her
own a deep violet.

“What is your true name?”

Weynild smiled, and her teeth were brilliantly white
in the dim, flickering light cast by the dying fire.

“Ah, a deeply personal question.”

Raine shifted her body firmly against Weynild's,
wrapping her strong leg about her waist. Her gaze was again
magnetically attracted to the breasts so tantalizingly close.
“Well, we seem to be engaged in a deeply personal activity.”

“Fine then,” the dragon said, and Raine's eyes
flicked upward to her once more.

“My name is Talan'alaith'illaria.”

Raine froze, a response that gave the dragon great
pleasure.

“There is no need to stop what you are doing.”

It took Raine a moment to unfreeze her limbs, and a
moment more to consider her response.

“I beg your forgiveness,” she said quietly and
respectfully. “I did not realize I was in the presence of
royalty.”

The dragon smiled. “And what will you do for
absolution?”

Raine lowered her head, feathering a kiss onto the
taut stomach. Her hand drifted upward to take over her mouth's
previous occupation, gently caressing the breast the mouth had
abandoned. The mouth traveled lower, burning a trail downward that
twisted a knife of desire in Weynild's torso. It greatly pleased
her that the girl had responded with such confidence to the
revelation.

“I am sure I can find some way to absolve myself,”
Raine murmured, her lips on the burning skin. “Such a queen
deserves absolute service.”