Tielle St. Clare
Dragon’s Kiss
9
He was free of fever. She’d studied enough attacks to know that dragon bites healed quickly and cleanly. But that didn’t stop the pain or the torture in the days following the attack. Nothing would ease him.
She’d tried with her husband but her presence had served only to enrage him. Still, compassion welled up inside her. She couldn’t stand to see another human suffer. Giving in to the emotion, she turned her steps across the room and sank down on the edge of the bed.
“Your Majesty, please.” He twisted on the sheets fighting and tearing. “Please, Your Majesty.”
Dammit
, she said to her herself. Calling him “Your Majesty” was going to get old. Quickly. She took a deep breath. “Kei, everything will be all right.” She didn’t know what else to say. Even though lying was against her nature. She wanted to comfort him. “It will be fine,” she repeated. Her voice seemed to reach him and he stilled. He never opened his eyes but he turned in her direction. “That’s it. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder. The warm muscle jumped beneath her fingertips. She’d pulled the tattered shirt from his chest while she’d cleaned the wound. She’d left his battle leathers on while she’d bandaged the torn flesh. But bandages were almost worthless on a dragon bite. The wound was already beginning to heal. Kei sighed as she continued to lightly rub her palm across his shoulder. She watched the tension ease from his body. Sleep was the best thing for him. Lorran sat for a moment. She’d stay with him until he settled.
It had been five years since she’d seen him—and then it had been after a brief and bloody fight. She wouldn’t have recognized him if she’d seen him in the street. His face had matured, losing any soft edges of youth and gaining none of the roundness from excess. His long blond hair was spread across her pillow, framing his masculine face. He looked every inch a King. Even with his wild hair and bare chest, he looked powerful. Having moved to this Kingdom after her husband’s death, she was unfamiliar with the royal family. She wasn’t a part of that world any longer. If she remembered correctly, he’d been raised as a warrior, never expecting to be crowned King. She knew why he’d been chosen to lead. This was a man born to rule—a warrior leading a Kingdom of warriors.
Women had been rumored to swoon when he looked at them, so handsome was his face. The sharp cut of his cheekbones and a pale scar next to his eye saved him from any kinship to feminine beauty. His face was carved stone, hard even in rest. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes but reports said they were crystal-clear green, the color of new grass.
And soon, all this human beauty would be gone.
Emotions flip-flopped through her mind. Anger at finally facing the man who’d killed Brennek, but compassion as well. How strange was fate that his justice had been delivered in such a fashion? She felt no triumph. No human should have to live through the next three weeks of this man’s life.
The silence of the cabin grew oppressive as she sat beside him. Her thoughts began to rattle with things she had to accomplish before daylight ended. There was still work Tielle St. Clare
Dragon’s Kiss
10
to be done. How long would it take for him to fall asleep? She had things to do—notes to make. It wasn’t often that anyone got the chance to study a dragon’s victim from bite until the conclusion. She needed to write down her observations. She looked down at him. His eyes were closed but not squeezed shut in pain, his shoulders seemed relaxed, his breathing even. He was finally resting. She leaned forward, preparing to stand. His hand slipped across the blankets and landed softly on her leg, holding her. The grip was firm but not painful. Lorran froze. He was asleep. It had to be some kind of reflex. His tan skin looked pale against the dark wool of her skirt. White lines criss-crossed the back of his hand telling of his warrior’s life. He may be a King now, but he had been raised a soldier. Lorran reached down to remove his hand but instead he moved, slipping his large palm up her leg, curling it to match the curve of her thigh, delving his fingers into the space between her legs.
Lorran looked around the empty room, as if someone might see her with a man’s hand on her thigh. It was an intimate touch but it couldn’t be intentional. The man was asleep or, at minimum, in a healing trance. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing.
Kei had a certain reputation but Lorran doubted even
he
could attempt a seduction just hours after being bitten by a dragon.
His fingers pushed downward, then up, until they brushed the juncture of her thighs.
“Or maybe he could,” she said aloud. The flutter of his fingers against her sex stopped her words. This couldn’t be happening. It had been years,
years
since any hand but hers had touched there. Now a stranger, and a King no less, was doing so. She squirmed, trying to subtly remove him. Instead, Kei’s fingers insinuated themselves deeper between her legs until he cupped her, forming his fingers to the line of her sex. A fluttered pleasure zipped through her stomach.
“Please, Your Majesty, Kei…your hand…” She tugged on the heavy weight of his wrist. He growled softly and the lines across his forehead deepened. “Kei, I don’t think—“ He pressed one long finger along her pussy, teasing her clit with a light touch.
“Oh, my.” She tensed, sitting up straight on the bed. “I really think—oh dear…” With slow easy strokes, he began massaging her. A spike of need shot through her center. She inhaled sharply.
How can this be happening? The man is asleep!
His fingers continued to move, the rhythm changing to steady pulses. He seemed to know just where to touch her, the perfect intensity.
“This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t let him do this,” she told the empty room. But her body ignored the logic of her words. She leaned back and arched her hips upward, opening her legs until he had full access. A soft rumble sounded from Kei’s throat—a contented, pleased noise, like the purr of a satisfied lion. He rubbed his whole hand up and down, fully massaging her sensitive lips, heightening the tension across her clit. The light wool of her skirt only heightened the sensation. The heat of his touch flowed through the material and warmed her skin.
Tielle St. Clare
Dragon’s Kiss
11
Her sex was wet and empty. She moaned softly at the sudden sharp desire to be filled.
Lorran pressed the tips of her fingers into the solid wall of his chest. Her hips rolled in gentle movements as she searched for more of the sensations his hand pulled from deep inside her body. She arched against his fingers, pushing him against her clit, focusing his touch and guiding him.
Heat poured from his fingers and flowed through her pussy, driving her on. The pressure grew. Her shallow breath bounced off the cabin walls, echoing back and filling her ears with the sound. Her hips pumped with certainty now, the sweet tightening building until in one sharp moment, it evaporated, released, scattering tendrils of heat through her body. Lorran tensed and held herself still. The wild pleasure captured her, then slowly faded through her body.
After long moments, when her breath returned to normal, she looked down. She’d left tiny nail marks on Kei’s chest.
He didn’t seem to notice. He slept, his hand still between her legs, but calmed, not moving. The hint of a smile hovered over his lips—as if he knew what he’d done.
“If that’s what he can do in his sleep, no wonder women swoon before him,” she whispered.
She continued to sit beside him, half-amazed at what she’d let happen and halfstunned that Kei seemed to have slept through it all. Finally, his breathing evened out and she realized he was truly asleep. When she stood, he let her go with no more than a mumbled protest.
Her freedom lasted twenty minutes before he began to twist on the bed and tear at the bedclothes. She returned to his side and placed her fingers lightly against his chest. He immediately quieted and his hand inched toward her thigh.
“Oh, it’s going to be an interesting couple of days.”
The next two days were nothing short of exhausting. And confusing. She couldn’t step away from Kei for more than a few minutes without him reacting—struggling against an invisible force. Her presence seemed to allow him to rest and eased the fury. She spent the days sitting beside him, always touching. The contact seemed vital to keep him calm.
It was no hardship for Lorran. He had a beautiful body. The warm muscles fit perfectly beneath her hands. She tried to keep the touch impersonal but sometimes she just had to smooth her palms across the strong plane of his chest or the powerful leg muscles. Kei seemed to enjoy this the most—sighing and moaning, growling when she stopped.
But all of that would have been endurable. It was the power he seemed to have over her body that drained all her energy. His hand continually sought out and found the hot space between her legs. It was only after he’d brought her to orgasm that he’d fall into a real sleep. She lost track of how many times she’d found herself moaning and pleading with him to let her come.
Tielle St. Clare
Dragon’s Kiss
12
The nights were the hardest. Initially, she’d tried setting up a small cot but he’d moaned and twisted until she’d crawled onto the bed with him. He’d instantly calmed, snuggling against her, despite the distance she tried to put between their bodies. Each night, he’d wrap himself around her, his strong arms holding her back to his front, curling into her until she felt surrounded. Then his hand would move unerringly towards the vee of her thighs. And it would begin again. Her gown blocked direct contact but the weight of his hand and the light flutter of his fingers sent layers of shivers through her body.
Removing his hand was not an option. She tried that. Like a child with its favorite toy taken away, he grumbled and groaned. The struggle became a nightly event where Lorran would eventually give up and allow his hand to remain. In response, Kei sighed, smiled and cuddled against her, content to have his way. And then he’d begin the tiny movements, subtle touches that became caresses, finally bringing her to climax—sometimes hard and fast, sometimes long and deep. It didn’t matter. Each night, Lorran found herself, her legs opened, pressing against his strong fingers, anxious for the release his touch promised. Once she’d climaxed, Kei would pull her to him, turning her onto her back and settling his head on her breasts. The slight smile that marked his lips told her that somewhere, deep inside the sleeping man,
someone
knew what he was doing. Hours passed before Lorran allowed herself to drop into a light doze. The dawn of the third day pulled Lorran out of the bed. She instantly missed the warmth of Kei’s body. Kei grumbled in protest but let her go. Moving quickly, she stoked the fire and began her morning routine, enjoying the quiet. She got breakfast and tidied the small cabin, finishing up at Kei’s side.
It would be over soon. Sometime in the next twenty-four hours, Kei would open his eyes and stare at her in confusion. And possibly revulsion. She doubted he would remember the intimate touches he’d given her. And she’d never tell. She stared down at his bare form, the sheet gone in a flurry of twists and turns. He was magnificently made. The broad line of his chest rippled with full tight muscles. His arms, even in rest, showed their power. She followed the taut line of his stomach. His cock was half-hard. He’d spent the last three days in that state. He shifted restlessly on the bed and Lorran raised her gaze.
How long would it be before the beast showed itself? She stared at his body, trying to distance herself, trying to separate the woman from the observer. Had the changes already begun? The memory of her husband’s transition was a blur, vague images filled with pain and disappointment. She hadn’t been there when he’d made the final change. She’d never learned what caused it, only seen the destruction later. She trailed her fingers across Kei’s chest. She’d grown used to touching him in the past two days. He instantly calmed, his body relaxing at her light touch. This was such an opportunity. She could observe him—watch him. So much could be done if they could learn how the transition was accomplished. More and more information about dragons was becoming available—but the chance to monitor a full transition was rare.
Tielle St. Clare
Dragon’s Kiss
13
She watched Kei all day. Slowly, the healing trance faded and he fell into a true sleep. It was over. Lorran walked away and he didn’t protest. She stayed away as she cooked dinner and prepared for bed. He didn’t seem to notice. Kei no longer needed her. The odd ache of disappointment that lingered in her chest made her cringe. She was upset that a sick man and a crazed beast no longer needed her presence.
How pathetic.
When it was time for bed, she sank down on the small cot. Kei had been sleeping peacefully. She pulled the blanket up over her warm nightgown and watched him in the dark. It was strange but she’d already grown used to feeling his weight on her body as she slept. She blew out the final candle and closed her eyes. Kei’s moans woke her a short time later. He twisted on the bed, a contained version of the struggles from the early part of the trance. She slipped out of the blankets and sat on the edge of his bed. He was cool to the touch and once again calmed when she placed her hand on his skin. It was late. One final night. She slid under the bedclothes next to him and settled down. Morning would come soon enough. Kei immediately wrapped his arms around her and sighed contentedly. Lorran had to crush a similar sound from escaping her lips. She closed her eyes and was asleep almost instantly.
He was there, stalking her through the dark forest, waiting for her as she stepped into the dream world.
Mine.
The voice was back, commanding her attention.
The dragon’s head swung toward her. His huge mouth opened and fire burst from the depths
of his throat, covering her, consuming her. The flames surrounded her, licking at her skin like a
million fiery tongues.
She waited for the pain but there was none, only the flurry of fire against her flesh, the rush
of warmth inside.