“Look at you, Mr. Man of the Woods.”
“As you pointed out earlier, I have lived for a very long time. In the days before you bought everything from the nearest food store, you had to eat what you could find.”
“I believe you might be beginning to enjoy yourself, Dòmhnall.”
“I would not go that far. But it is nice, in an absurd way, to have to remember who I was before we went to live in the Stronghold.”
“Before you shut yourselves away.” She paused—unlike her to even think of sparing his feelings—but then she went on, “Before your heart stone was taken from you.”
Subconsciously, he put his hand over his heart before letting his arm drop back to his side. “Yes. Before then I was free.”
“You are free now, Dòmhnall,” she said gently, sensing the betrayal and grief that constantly dogged him.
“Am I? I have a mate. I have a duty to the other dragons. Then there is the threat of our foes; the vampires have already tried to control us. Now the dryads.”
“You are not alone. The other dragons look up to you, and you know I will always fight by your side.” She laughed a short snort. “Well, not that I am any use to you now.”
“I don’t know, Tara. I would assume you would be a formidable force, with or without your magic.” He grinned when he saw her blush, and then said, “You would be able to flay a man alive with your tongue alone.”
She went to hit him but he ducked away, running to the cabin, laughing. She was about to run after him, when she stopped, she had never heard him laugh before. And she found she liked the sound very much. Something inside her shifted, and her heart felt lighter. There was hope, when before she had seen none. There was hope he would let her into his heart.
“Now you have insulted me, I will make sure I pick some leaves especially for you.” She smiled sweetly, conveying her meaning. “Perhaps you will find you miss modern inventions such as a flushing toilet.”
“Now, Tara, you don’t want to do anything to upset the man you are stuck here with. Especially since I may be the only thing standing between you and some bogeyman.” He smiled, walking off towards a promising copse of trees, whilst she bent down to dig up dandelions and inspect the other plants along the water’s edge.
Before long, the setting sun on her back and the sound of the spring tinkling along inspired her to hum a tune, and she forgot all about the danger they were in. Until a low growl made her start and look up. There, coming through the trees, was a wolf.
“Shit,” she whispered quietly, placing her basket on the floor and backing away. Her only hope would be to get into the trees and perhaps climb one.
Like climbing trees is your strong point
.
Doomed, she was about to be eaten alive by a wolf. A fact that seemed a sure thing when the creature began to advance on her, teeth bared, its growl one continuous rumble in its chest. She wanted to cry out, to call Dòmhnall. But what if it killed them both? Surely, it was better for the wolf to kill her and eat her, and for Dòmhnall to survive.
But she didn’t want to die. Getting to her feet, she ran for the trees, her eyes searching the ground for anything she could use as a weapon, while the wolf advanced. It was getting close, dangerously close; she needed something she could hit it with, and there it was, a big thick branch, not too heavy but capable of knocking its brains out.
Diving for it, her hand closed around it and she lifted it to swing, just as the wolf leaped at her. She missed its head, but the branch hit his shoulder with a nice thud. It fell to the ground, and she raised the branch to strike it while it was down. Too late, she hadn’t even stunned it, and now it was on its feet once more, circling her, looking for a weakness.
It wouldn’t have to look too hard; she felt weak all over. Her legs felt as though they would give out on her, and her arms shook under the weight of the branch. The wolf licked its lips, tasting her flesh on its tongue. Imagining what it would be like to sink his teeth into her and let her blood spurt all over its face.
“I am not going to die here,” she said, raising her weapon once more, knowing she would have to find some source of strength from deep inside her if she wanted to survive this.
But her strength came from elsewhere. Dòmhnall.
Caught off guard, the wolf didn’t have time to turn and react as the dragon lord raced through the trees and struck him with his fist. Stunned, the wolf reeled backwards. But then found his feet and leaped at Dòmhnall.
Teeth and claws slashed at Dòmhnall as he fought to overpower the wolf. The crazed animal seemed intent on a battle to the death, especially when it had the first taste of his opponent’s blood—a large cut on Dòmhnall’s forearm bled profusely, dripping on the floor. Although the dragon lord showed no pain, and it didn’t prevent him battling with the wolf until they were both rolling around on the ground. A mixture of snarls from the wolf and curses from Dòmhnall filled the air.
Tara made herself get up. Her hand closed around the branch, and she stood by the side of the two brawling creatures, waiting for her the right moment. When it came, she raised her arms and whacked the wolf around the head. It spilled forward onto Dòmhnall, who took the chance to overpower it, ramming it onto the ground and then twisting its neck until it snapped.
Tara sank to her knees in relief, her hand over her mouth as she sobbed, great lungfuls of air filling her chest as she fought to regain control. She missed her magic; she missed the dragon who would have killed this wolf in one flaming breath.
Dòmhnall came to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close to his chest. His blood ran freely down his arm to drip on the floor, and all she could think of was his life force ebbing away and knew she had to act. Tearing her shirt, she tied it around his arm just above the cut, pulling it tightly to stem flow.
“Shh,” he soothed. “That can wait. Are you all right? Did the beast hurt you?”
“No, but he could have. We are so weak, so defenceless like this.”
“We beat it. Together we beat the beast. Come.” He stood, and then bent down to pick her up, cradling her to his chest. “Let’s get inside. I’ll come back for the food and we can eat. That will make you feel better, and then we will sleep. Tomorrow it will all seem better.”
“How? How can it be better? We will still be stuck here, and we will still be powerless.”
“And we will still be together.”
She had no answer for that. Did he really believe that it was better for them to be powerless as long as they had each other? One thing it did confirm: the only reason he was here was her.
“You chose to touch the dragon. For me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry, Dòmhnall. For everything. You would be better off if I’d never come into your life.”
“On the contrary, Tara. Until you came into my life, I had forgotten what it was like to live. To feel. You drive me to distraction, and it scares me what we are to each other. But it is better than the nothing I felt before. I promise to try to be more open to you, to be more of the man you deserve.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I deserve any kind of man, really. Not after the things I’ve done. Even if you were the worst man on the planet I probably wouldn’t deserve you.”
“I hope I’m not that bad,” he said, bending his neck and kissing the top of her head. “But I am what I am. And it is time we both accepted that about each other.”
“I am willing to try if you are, Dòmhnall. Let’s stop our stupid squabbling and be what the fates want us to be.”
“Very well. Tara.” He took her inside the cabin and placed her on the bed. She looked up at him expectantly, but then knew this was not the time and probably not the place.
“I should treat your arm before it becomes infected.” She set to work, a warm feeling in the pit of her belly that made her want to squirm. Every time her fingers brushed his flesh, she was filled with a sudden burst of nervous energy. She wanted him more than ever; could they ever find a way to safety so that they could act on this new understanding between them?
Her hands on his skin ignited the fire he had tried so hard to quench. It burned inside him, like the flame of his dragon used to.
“Thank you, Tara,” he said, his hand covering hers as she tied off the makeshift bandage.
“You are welcome. Now we should go and get the food.” Her stomach rumbled in response.
“Maybe we should chop the wolf up and eat wolf steaks for dinner,” he suggested.
“That sounds disgusting.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust.
“I know, but if all we have is nuts and leaves, we might regret not trying it. Meat is meat, right?” he asked, watching her face as it screwed up in utter disgust.
“I think I might rather starve,” she said.
He got up but kept his hand on hers, drawing her up so that she stood facing him. Raising her fingers to his lips, he kissed them lightly, his eyes fixed on hers. “Such gifted hands.” He stroked her palm with his thumb, seeing the desire cross her face.
“Dòmhnall…” she said, her voice soft but broken with emotion. “I…”
“There is nothing to say.” He bent his head and kissed her, feeling her soft, round curves fill his arms as she leaned against his hard body, And he was hard, his cock straining to be released, to bury itself inside her for the first time. He had abstained too long.
Ever since he had met her, he had not taken another woman to his bed. It didn’t seem right. Despite having no real intention of consummating their bond, to bed another woman would be cheating on his true mate. Call him old fashioned, or just old, but it was important to him that he was loyal to her, even if she would never know it.
She tasted divine. His mouth watered for her, and his body yearned for her. Unless it was his imagination, he also felt his dragon stir somewhere deep inside him, happy that he had finally let her know of his need for her. And that need grew until he couldn’t think straight; all his focus went to how she trembled when he pressed his tongue inside her mouth, and how he wanted her to tremble like that when he thrust his cock into her sex.
Dòmhnall had never done more than kiss her, and that had only happened once before. Now he intended to take it much further. He pressed his hand to her breast and she whimpered against his mouth as he caught her nipple between his thumb and fingers, pinching it lightly.
“Damn it, I need you.” He lifted her, laying her down on the bed and then moving to lie next to her.
“Here? Are you sure? What about the Moon Altar?” she asked, but her hands had already gone to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them and then stroking his chest.
“Yes. Right now. Right here. This is not our real world; the Moon Rite can wait until we are back home. All I know is, I have never been more sure of anything in my whole life.”
And that was the absolute truth.
This was so sudden, so unexpected. After years of waiting, she should have been ready, but she wasn’t. Nerves, not usually something that bothered her, were building up inside her, causing her hands to shake as she opened one button after another to reveal his godlike body beneath it. And she dared not even think about the thickness of his cock, encased in those tight breeches, which was begging to be freed. Because if she did, she would probably leave this cabin, run, and never stop until she was utterly lost.
Anything would be better than for him to make love to her and find her disappointing.
But she found her courage, a thing she had learned to depend on all of her life. She had faced so much horror and never baulked from it. Now Dòmhnall was offering her the thing she had craved for so long, his body, his acceptance, she could not run from this, she had to face it head on.
“Relax,” he whispered as his hands began to undo her shirt. “I won’t hurt you, Tara.”
“I know.” And she did. Deep down she knew that he would look after her, make this right for her. She only hoped she would satisfy him. The great Dragon Lord of Spellholm was quite a man, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that in all of his long life he hadn’t taken a woman, a whole army of women, to his bed.
She knew that Connor, and especially Zoah, had been with lots of women before they found their true mates. It had helped them pass the time. Not exactly flattering, but their primal need for sex had to be satisfied somewhere. Dòmhnall must have behaved the same way.
Making herself concentrate on undoing the rest of his buttons, she placed her lips on his skin as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and was rewarded by a deep groan from this huge man. He lifted himself up and shrugged the shirt off, and then had another thought. Standing in front of her, he took off his boots, and then undid his tight breeches. Damn, she had thought he looked big with them on, the fabric stretched to almost breaking point over his bulging cock. But when he dropped them to the floor, she was shocked at just how big, and incredibly erect, he was.
“Now, I think it’s time you were naked too, Tara.” He climbed back onto the bed and she tried not to stare at his huge cock, instead she looked into his eyes. But her gaze kept dropping below his waist. “It won’t bite. If you want to stroke me.”
“I … I’m not sure.” She was a prize idiot, stuttering and stammering like an imbecile.
“There’s plenty of time,” he said with a smile, the kind that made her insides flip over with desire.
He slid down next to her, and undid her shirt until her bra was exposed, then he kissed her, covering the swell of her breasts with butterfly kisses. Then he unclasped her bra, his hands closing over her exposed flesh, his thumbs brushing her nipples. She closed her eyes, letting the sensations flood over her, and then he captured one of her taut nipples in his mouth and she nearly exploded.
He commanded her body, the dragon he had lost was simmering under the surface, and she could feel the heat from him radiating out, ready to consume her. Tara threaded her fingers into his hair, feeling it run through her fingers as she tried not to pull his head away from her. It was a kind of exquisite torture, and she wanted more, but needed him to stop in equal measures before she lost control.