The Dragon's Lover Page 3

  “Well, in truth I have already ridden you…”

  “Get on,” Weynild ordered.

  Raine scrambled up onto the neck of the beautiful creature, marveling at the supple feel of the neck. She ran her fingers along the reddish scales glinting with multicolored high-lights. “I don't know,” she said, her tone dubious, “shouldn't I have a saddle and stirrups, perhaps a riding crop or something?”

  The wicked sense of humor had pushed the dragon quite far enough. The enormous head turned around, gazing at Raine with glowing gold eyes. “That is an excellent idea, on one condition. I get to use them on you when I transform at our destination.”

  “Ah,” Raine said, her fingers tracing the scales beneath her. “I think riding bareback will be quite sufficient, then.”

  The dragon snorted and the mass beneath Raine moved to the opening of the cave. They stood balanced precariously on the edge and Raine held tightly as the muscles beneath her contracted and then the beast leaped skyward. The wings unfurled like the sails of a ship and the sensation was glorious. The blood-red dragon went into a dive from which any normal being would have died from fright. But the girl perched on the neck of the beast just laughed. The dragon engaged in a series of acrobatic maneuvers to entertain her passenger, then wheeled about toward the west, settling into a steady pace.

  The feel of the rippling muscles beneath her was pleasurable. In fact, Raine thought to herself, it was almost a little too pleasurable. The steadiness of the pace was also adding to the wonderful feeling of discomfort and the warmth that began to tingle between her legs. She shifted her weight, uncertain if she was attempting to relieve the sensation or move herself into better position to experience it. It did not matter as her shifting only intensified the inexorable stroking, matching every beat of those powerful wings. A soft groan escaped her lips.

  The dragon became aware of the shifting movement of the creature behind her, and it took her a moment to interpret the cause. In the meantime, the girl shifted again and pressed herself closely to the sinewy neck, removing any doubt as to the condition she was in.

  “Oh my,” the dragon whispered to the wind.

  It was an exquisite torture and the tension built and built, but the girl would not release. She seemed intent on restraining herself and resisting an outcome that was inevitable. The pleasurable distress finally became too much for Weynild and the dragon dove straight into the ground, pulling up just parallel to the surface and strafing into the rocky earth with her talons. Rock and dirt flew everywhere as the dragon dug a furrow three hundred yards long before the massive creature came to a halt, transforming as she did so and taking the girl to the ground. Weapons, armor, and clothing went flying as the dragon-woman buried herself in her lover, bringing her to climax almost immediately, one that seemingly went on without end. She herself came to pleasure quickly, then did so more leisurely a multitude of times.

  At long last, Raine lay exhausted on top of Weynild, her head on her breast. They were lying in the crater the dragon had left on final impact. The crater would be found by hunters days later, causing them to speculate that a star had fallen from the sky judging by the trench that had been torn from the earth leading to the massive hole.

  The silver-haired woman looked down at her now-sated lover, shifting her weight slightly and drawing the girl close.

  “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. Weyni
ld 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 resp
onse 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.”

  And with that comment, she lowered her head further and placed her mouth on the warm wetness of her lover, causing Weynild to jerk with the intense shock of pleasure. The comment was sardonic because in that moment, Raine acted the servant kneeling between her legs, but Weynild might as well have been her slave so skillfully did the girl drive her to passion. Weynild clutched the furs with one hand while the other reached down to caress the girl's head. She had used that hand as guidance for those less skilled in this act, but this girl was mastering her with no guidance whatsoever. She felt as if she was going to climax immediately, but Raine eased her motion and changed her pressure ever-so-slightly, driving Weynild to an even higher plane of tension and pleasure. She did this multiple times until Weynild felt she would explode, and at the moment she felt she could take no more, the girl pushed her over the edge. Weynild's hips rose and fell in a violent, bucking, seemingly-endless rhythm until there was nothing left for her to give. She collapsed, utterly spent.