The Dragon’s Treasure (6 page)

“You are merciless to use this child’s life against me,.”

Suddenly Isabelle felt as if a wave had washed over her and she knew instantly that Faolan had signed the contract. She could even almost picture his form on the other side of the stone wall.

“I can feel her,” she heard him say. She was surprised by the wonder she found in his voice.

“As I’m sure so can she. The marriage is complete and final now. You two will be able to sense each other, especially when intense emotions are involved. This is my wedding present to you both. I hope this gift will help you both in your understanding of each other and your needs in this marriage. Make good use of it though, it will only last for tonight.”

“I see. Go to bed, Father, it is late and I wish some time alone with my wife.”

“Yes, very good. I’m sure Isabelle is anxious to see you as well.”

She heard the heavy footsteps walk away from the doorway and breathed a quick sigh of relief. She stared intently at the door for a few more moments before it slowly opened and a shadowy figure stepped inside. His movements were graceful and although she was sure he was wearing boots, his feet made no noise as he walked across the stone floor.

Only once the door was closed did he push the black hood of his cloak from his face and Isabelle was able to get her first look at his finely carved features.

“Faolan?” she said softly, testing his name on her tongue.

The dark figure seemed to halt mid-stride and, although he was still hidden mostly by shadows, she knew that he was watching her. “Hello, Isabelle,” he replied just as quickly. Then, after a moment, “You’re on the bed.”

She blushed deeply. “It was more comfortable than the floor.”

She heard him give a short chuckle before they both fell silent again.

It had seemed like an hour since he entered the room, though Isabelle was sure it had only been a few minutes or so. She lay silently in the middle of the bed surrounded by crumpled sheets. Her face was pressed into the dark blue silk of the pillow. Her arms were folded under her, her hands crossed under her chin. The large bedroom was cast in almost complete darkness. If it hadn’t been for the dozens of slowly burning candles around the room and the pale moonlight flowing in through the wide balcony, she wouldn’t be able to see her hand in front of her face. If she had wanted to look around that was. She could feel his presence in the room. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew without question where Faolan was standing. Somehow she could also hear the shallowness of his breaths and the rapid beating of his heart in the still night air. The fact that she was now his wife didn’t make this night any easier. She knew that they had to become close. He couldn’t remain a stranger forever. But knowing that and feeling comfortable with someone were two very different things.

She silently chastised herself for her foolishness. This had to be done. She had to accept this. Caden’s life depended on her choices tonight. She would have to go through with this to save her brother. Such a sacrifice to save the life of someone so dear to her seemed of little consequence. She wondered what he would be like. What he would say and do. In the morning, would he leave or stay. Would he expect her to lay by his side throughout the night, or would he leave her in peace once he had taken his pleasure from her. In the morning, she thought that he would probably be around and then she would have to face him. He would see the shame and guilt on her face.

Although she may not be close to him, she did not want to hurt him in such a way. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his father insisted on such a form of torture. Isabelle listened to her husband in the silence. He hadn’t made any effort to come closer to her. Anger and fear were slowly slipping into annoyance as she waited for him to begin. But it wasn’t his brother’s life that was at stake here.

“Faolan?” she called to him. Her voice was muffled against the pillow, but at least he took a step closer to her at the sound of it.

His own voice was soft and gentle as he replied, “Yes, Isabelle?”

Before she could answer him, the sound of boots scuffing against the stone outside the bedroom door took her attention momentarily away.

“Zorin,” he breathed quietly.

That caught her attention. She turned in the bed to face him, holding the silk sheets against her nude body as she did so. She kneeled on the bed, the sheet splayed around her, fanning out around her and dripping onto the stone floor beneath them. “Was that him?” she asked.

* * * *

Faolan nodded and looked away from her. He had not realized she was wearing so little beneath the sheet before he entered their room. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and he had to lick his lips.

“Faolan?” she called to him again.

He flinched at the sound of his name coming from her lips. This simply would not do. How could one woman affect him so easily? The gods be damned, he was his father’s son! He had been trained from birth that women were only useful for children, nothing more. His father had sired eight sons, hadn’t he? And he remembered none of the names of their mothers. In fact, he couldn’t even tell Faolan who his mother had been or what she had been like before her death. So why was it that he couldn’t force himself to be more like his father? More like the man everyone in this damnable fortress expected him to be like. He should not be this weak. He should have come into the room and put this woman in her place. He should have done what was expected of him, then gone out hunting like the others. But he couldn’t even look in her direction without feeling repulsed by his own guilt and shame at having to be a part of her misery. How was he ever supposed to share a bed with this woman if he couldn’t even come within five feet of her?

“Faolan?” she asked again, her tone more forceful this time.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and breathed deeply. He could do this. He just had to get through this one night. Then he could figure this out in the morning, after he had fed. When his head was clear, he was sure he could figure out some solution for this madness.

“Yes, that was him,” he forced out.

From the corner of his vision, he saw her turn her attention back to the closed door and the silent hallway beyond. “What was he doing out there?”

He sighed and leaned wearily against the cold stone wall, wishing instantly for something softer than the stones he had been surrounded by for centuries.

“My father probably asked him to see if we were getting along.”

“What a silly thing to make sure of, of course we’re getting along. Why wouldn’t we be? It’s not like I’m going to kill you,” she replied with a small, nervous chuckle.

“Not that type of getting along,” he said with a pointed look in her direction.

Their eyes met in the darkness and she looked away quickly. She breathed a little
oh
before again laying down in the overly large bed. “Faolan?” she called.

He noticed the change in her voice and came a few feet closer to see what she was distracting herself with, hoping that he could find interest in the same thing.

“Yes?”

“The bed, the wardrobe, even the door, everything’s so much larger than I’ve ever seen. Why is that?”

Faolan chuckled softly and smiled at her. An easy enough question to answer and for that he was most grateful. He came to stand beside the bed and lean against the carved wooden post next to her head, ignoring how close they were now. He had barely looked at the room since it was the same as every other guest room in his home. It was not as nice as his room down the hall was, but it was far more lavish than his childhood room that had only the minimal necessities and none of the comforts.

He glanced at the door, over fifteen feet high and wide enough to fit three large men comfortably side by side, it was no wonder it had caught her attention. He had to remind himself that she didn’t grow up knowing what his kind were, like he had grown up knowing about hers, and that she wasn’t aware of the history that joined their families together by blood, however distantly. Because of her ignorance, he chose the simplest answer and hoped that she wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“When we are in our natural forms, we are much bigger than this form you see before you,” he answered simply with a small shrug.

Her eyebrows went up slightly. There was very little of the fear that he would have thought she’d have at hearing he might not be completely human. Instead, she seemed more curious than anything else. It was quite a strange reaction for such a young human. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

“This isn’t your natural form?”

Faolan’s gaze traveled over his smooth chest and arms. He raised his hand so that he could see it clearly and turned it over, marveling as he always had at its frail design. “No, it isn’t. I chose it for tonight, as you’ll see many of our kind have done, because of your presence. You are not used to us, you have never seen us before. To throw you into the midst of our home, our people, without such a time as to get to know us and what we are and to learn our customs and ways would surely throw you directly into madness.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “But isn’t that what your father has done? Hasn’t he thrown me into your world?”

Faolan nodded sadly. “Yes, he has. If I had the power to set things right again, I would, Isabelle, believe me. You no more belong in my world than we belong in yours. Our kinds have been separate for all these thousands of years for a reason. A very good one in fact.”

“And that would be?”

Faolan forced himself to meet her eyes, if only for this instant. “Because we eat you.”

“You won’t kill me,” she replied simply.

Curiosity piqued, he replied, “Oh no?”

Isabelle quickly shook her head, her messy mop of brown hair falling around her face in waves. “No. You need me. You can’t kill me just yet.”

“You’re right. But what about after the child is born?” He hated to ask her these things. To even think of such a thing made his stomach turn. While it was true that his kind did eat humans, the slaves in the cells far below their feet were proof enough of that, he had never indulged in this habit. And now, with his young bride laying in his bed, he decided that he never would. The thought of any one of his kind doing that to her, or laying a finger on her at all, was enough to bring a strange new sensation boiling just below the surface of his skin. He was not used to jealousy, nor could he understand why he would care so much about a girl he hardly knew. A human girl no less. But regardless of her birth he was not capable of denying his emotions forever and knew that eventually he would have to admit what his heart was already beginning to believe.

“Faolan?” her quiet voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes, Isabelle?”

His eyes widened as she rose gracefully from the bed, the dark sheet wrapped tightly around her body. She took a few steps toward him, her cautious movements gaining strength with each step she took. After what felt like minutes, she was before him, her dark eyes staring imploringly into his own.

When he made no move to touch her, she brought her hand up to the side of his face, the smooth lines of his jaw moving easily under her fingertips as he struggled to speak.

“What are you doing?” he finally managed, hoping his voice was stronger than the fearful whisper he imagined it to be.

“I know that this is hard for you, too. I can’t imagine you wanted to be saddled with a bride, especially one you had no choice in…”

“It’s fine,” he bit out quickly, uncomfortable with her fingers moving down his throat to stroke his collarbones. Rational thought was quickly becoming impossible as the girl, no, woman, he quickly reminded himself, continued to explore his still form.

Undeterred by his harsh tone, Isabelle merely smiled at him. She rose up to press her cheek to his. “Please, Faolan, no more stalling. Can’t we just do this?” she whispered gently into his ear.

He gulped audibly, earning a bright smile from the woman. “Are you sure?”

Her smile faltered only for a moment before forming into a thin straight line across her face. She nodded grimly and took his hand loosely in her own, bringing him to the bed. He stripped quickly, not caring where his clothing landed in the darkness of his room.

She was shaking below him and although he tried to ignore it, he could not turn away from the fear in her eyes as he positioned himself above her. He was almost grateful when she looked away from him, choosing instead to stare at the smooth stone wall. He touched her as little as possible. He wished that things could be different as he propped himself up with one hand and used the other to guide himself toward her.

“Please, just get it over with,” she whispered. Her voice sounded small. He paused above her and bowed his head against her neck. He gave her slight nod before he thrust forward, burying himself inside of her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but she could not stop the single tear that trickled traitorously down her cheek.

Seeing her crying nearly destroyed his already fragile conviction. He wanted to both hold and soothe her while also needing to flee from the room and never come near her again. He could do neither of those though. He could only do what everyone expected of him. He continued on as if nothing was wrong, focusing on anything he could except for the face of the woman below him. She wasn’t his. A contract mattered little to him in light of everything else going on. His father made her share her body with him, but she would never be his.

Faolan finished quickly, feeling almost relieved. She hadn’t enjoyed it of course, but then he really hadn’t expected her to. He quickly rolled off her and got out of bed. He could feel her eyes watching him as he threw on a pair of pants. He imagined the pain and loathing he would see there if he turned around. Instead, he pulled on a loose shirt and fled the room, leaving her in darkness with a whispered, “Forgive me,” trailing behind him as he escaped to the relative safety of the deserted hallway, struggling to swallow the bile that was already rising in his throat.