The Dragon in the Stone (3 page)

He gathered speed across the playing fields, all
set to head for the coast and home, when he heard it. The high pitched drone of
two approaching motorbikes, driving far too fast on the pathway. As he turned
to observe, their headlights illuminated a lone woman walking fast. Her white
trainers reflected the lights of the machines, and Drorgan gave himself a
moment to appreciate the sight of her shapely calves, before his view was
spoiled by a tight fitting pencil skirt, short jacket and a white blouse, which
seemed to struggle at containing a very impressive bust.

This woman had curves to die for, in fact. A
welcome sight, as far as Drorgan was concerned. Too many women of this time
seemed obsessed with half starving themselves to keep up with some ideal of
being stick-thin. He’d seen the billboards on his flights up and down the
country, immersed himself in the newspapers which seemed to appear in his
library at the most inopportune moments, as if to taunt him with the life he
couldn’t have. Try as he might, the only place Drorgan could shift back into
his human side was within the confines of his castle, so all this knowledge of
modern human customs did him no good whatsoever.

Neither did ogling this brunette, even if she did
seem in trouble. His dragon hissed anew, when she was dragged onto the dark
fields. With his excellent night vision Drorgan had no problem making out the
details, as the gang of youths set upon her like a pack of vicious dogs. She
put up an admirable fight, but there were too many of the bastards.
Overpowered, she fell to the floor, pinned in place by the tallest of the
group, as he strangled the life out of her.

Something snapped inside Drorgan, as he swooped
close enough to see the light dim in her terrified brown eyes—disturbingly
familiar brown eyes—and with one swipe of his huge clawed hand he’d wrenched
the sorry excuse of a human male off of her. He went flying through the air
until a large tree stopped him. There were several spine breaking loud
crunches, as his body wrapped itself around that tree, and Drorgan swore under
his breath. Shit, he’d done it now.

That was what came of interfering in human
business. He should have just let them get on with it and ignored that strange
feeling in his gut which had kept him circling the area for hours. Laying a
protective ring of fire around the injured woman on the ground, he set the tree
alight, catching one of the youths trying to escape on his motorbike. The damn
thing exploded, sending a wave of heat and smell Drorgan’s way. Not that it
could hurt him, but mindful of the bundle of half exposed curves on the grass,
he roared a blast of his own fire across it to rein in the damage as much as he
could. The youths, who’d been so cocky in their attack on the female, screamed
in fright and ran off in all directions. The smell of scarred flesh hit his
nostrils, and taking pity on the human torch that ran toward the street, he
stopped the guy’s agony by ripping his head off.

Another swipe of his tail sent the other motorbike
crashing against a tree. With sirens already blaring in the background, and
having set alight the remaining body parts of those men who hadn’t made their
escape, he moved their remains around like pieces on a chess board. It wouldn’t
do to let the authorities think this was anything other than a tragic motor
bike accident, which left him with the thorny problem of the unconscious woman.

He couldn’t leave her behind. She didn’t fit the
puzzle, and besides, his dragon was positively itching to get back to her, to
reassure himself that her injuries weren’t life threatening. The brief glimpse
of those chocolate stained eyes haunted him. It was without doubt only because
it had been his last awake cycle that he had met little Rhonda. This woman, who
moaned and stirred as he bent his head to sniff her wouldn’t be her. Already a
nasty bruise was forming on one side of her face, and she stiffened when he
used his forked tongue to gently lick that mark.

Drorgan groaned as her scent permeated his consciousness.
Even covered in blood, dirt, and soot, it called to him on an instinctive,
primal level, unlike any woman ever had before. Sweet, with a hint of spice and
cinnamon, and completely free of any artifice, it made his
dragon’s
heart clench.

He froze mid-lick when her eyes fluttered open on a
groan, and she looked straight at him. Awareness registered, followed by panic,
before her eyes dulled in pain, and she stunned him completely by running one
of her small hands over the side of his face. Just like Rhonda’s touch had done
before, this unknown woman’s left his scales on fire. They should send him
running, these unfamiliar sensations, but it had the opposite effect on him.

Try as he might, he couldn’t move a muscle, didn’t
dare breathe, as he waited for the inevitable screams. Instead of screaming,
however, she gave him a tremulous smile.

“
You
came back.” Her whispered words made no sense at all, but he had no time to
contemplate them further, because the sirens were upon them and the place lit
up with the powerful spotlights employed by the fire service. He had to get
them out of there and fast. Flattening himself down on the ground as much as he
was able to, he nudged her with his nose, silently willing her to climb on
board. It was that or carry her, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t injure her
further, with his teeth and claws. The way she wasn’t using her left arm
worried him, as did the waves of pain he sensed coming off of her.

Willing her to get on board with his idea, he
breathed a fiery sigh of relief, when she dragged herself on his back with a grunt
of pain. Once he was reasonably sure she was settled as best she could be and
with her working arm curled around his neck, he flapped his wings
experimentally. She slipped slightly and tightened her thighs around his neck
in a reflexive move, which meant she slid right between his wings, supported by
the ridges on his back.

Her breathing grew labored, and her heart rate
kicked up into dangerous territory, as he lifted off the ground, seconds before
they would have been coated in the spray of water the fire brigade employed to
put out the raging inferno around them.

“
Wow
.” Drorgan
was pretty sure he heard her whisper that word
,
before she slumped
across him. Were it not for her uneven breaths touching his scales, he would
have been worried about her. Instead he ducked his head and hugging the terrain
to stay off the radar, he flew as fast as he dared toward the west coast and
home. What on earth he would do with her, once he got her to his castle, he
wasn’t sure. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to do what his dragon urged him to
and that was to claim her.

Chapter Three

Rhonda was having the oddest dream yet about her
dragon. She was flying, soaring, in fact, surrounded by his heat. She should
have been frightened, but instead she felt safe, protected, as though flying on
the back of a massive beast was an everyday occurrence. Especially in her work
clothes. Stupefied she stared at her torn tights and her left foot. She’d been
wearing her trainers, she was sure, so why then was it missing? Wriggling her
other foot brought with it a surge of pain so intense she gasped.

Surely, that wasn’t right? Did you feel pain in
dreams? Let alone the cold air rushing past her trainer-less foot when she
stuck it out at an angle?

Rhonda forced her eyes open, only to be greeted
with the sight of the earth rushing by at dizzying speed, and she promptly shut
them again. Okay, that felt way too real for her liking. If she was dreaming,
then this had to be the most intense dream yet, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Dreams about Drorgan usually brought her pleasure, not pain and anxiety, and
they didn’t make her feel motion sick either.

So, if this wasn’t a dream, was it …
reality
?

For one horrifying moment Rhonda entertained the
idea that she wasn’t in her bed, and then promptly dismissed it. It was far too
terrifying to contemplate, so she settled for hanging on for dear life. It was
a dream, and you couldn’t get hurt in dreams, so it should be perfectly safe to
open her eyes. So what if she couldn’t use her left arm, and if she leant in
closer into the surprisingly smooth scales surrounding her, they moved and
breathed underneath her fingertips like a living entity?

Her imagination was simply going into overdrive.
She couldn’t use her left arm, because she had no doubt wrapped the duvet
around herself again in such a way that she’d trapped that limb. It would also
explain why she felt so incredibly warm where the body of her
dragon
touched
her, yet cold when she stuck her feet and head out. Rhonda slept with her
window open, and with the temperatures dropping at night the breeze coming into
her room meant she felt the cold.

Yes, see, perfectly reasonable explanation right
there. All you have to do now is wake up.

Not that waking yourself up out of a dream was ever
easy. Perhaps she ought to stop fighting it. Having made that decision, Rhonda
opened her eyes and shrieked in delight when she saw a huge expanse of water
underneath her. Waves crashed against the cliffs they were following along the
rugged coast line. With nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate the
view, it made a stunning vista. Like something out of a postcard with clusters
of lighting along the coast indicating towns and villages. Rhonda idly wondered
where they were. Geography was certainly not her strong point, not that it
mattered what she conjured up.

It’s just a dream. Stop analyzing it and enjoy.

Her dragon ride swooped lower, skimming the waves,
and Rhonda could have sworn she felt the spray cover them both. Sticking her
foot out, she giggled at the tickling sensation, and held her breath when her
dragon swung his long neck around to look at her.

That side view was far too familiar, as was the
intelligence that shone out of his slit green eyes. Rhonda had the oddest sense
of déjà vu, and she whispered his name.

“
Drorgan?”

Her ride jerked, as though he was surprised and
then swung sideways. It made her slip slightly, and with a screech she hung on
tighter. Trying to use her left arm resulted in a pain so intense bile rose in
her throat, and she cried out. The huge wings behind her flapped harder in
response. It seemed her dragon sensed her distress, and was desperate to get
her to wherever he was taking her faster. Her ears popped with the force of the
movement, and she swallowed repeatedly to get them to clear to no avail.

How long this strange ride lasted, Rhonda couldn’t
determine, drifting in and out of consciousness as she was, until at long last
they seemed to take a wide circle, not unlike an airplane taxing up to land.

Rhonda barely suppressed a hysterical giggle at
that thought. Yes, she was so losing the plot, especially when she noticed the
castle rising up in front of them. It was nothing but a ruin, or so she thought
at first glance. The closer they came, flying up the steep cliffs on which the
ancient looking structure sat, the more it changed. Bricks came together and
formed turrets and battlements. Lights appeared in mullioned windows, and a
busy courtyard came into view. People milled about dressed in period costume,
and Rhonda blinked repeatedly to get her vision to clear. This couldn’t be
real, it just couldn’t, especially when the huge dragon surrounding her
shimmered and shifted. Scales gave way to smooth skin and firm muscle. Strong
masculine arms wrapped around her to stop her fall, and Rhonda’s last view of
this odd place was a pair of piercing blue eyes, drawn together in a frown.

Whoever this stranger was, he looked far from happy
to be holding her.

****

“
My
lord, you’re back, and you brought us a guest.”

Eugene’s usually so even tempered
voice trembled in his seeming excitement. Stood in the doorway to the great
entrance hall, Drorgan’s old and faithful servant rubbed his weathered hands
together in glee, while on the square behind Drorgan the villagers added their
voices of surprise.

Too late Drorgan realized that he
was buck naked, and he hastily clothed himself with a thought. Back in his castle
his magic was as strong as it ever had been, stronger in fact, which gave him a
bad feeling in his guts.

His dragon, meanwhile smirked at
him, as if to say,
told you so.

Ignoring his infuriating animal
form for now, he flicked the doors to the castle shut with another thought.
Eugene’s bushy grey eyebrows rose to his thinning hairline, and Drorgan
immediately regretted that action. It wouldn’t do to get the old man’s hopes
up, and to give the servants slowly assembling more fodder for the gossip mill.
They would have a field day with him arriving with a strange, injured woman in
his arms as it was.

The suspicion he immediately
sensed aimed at him, made him want to roar and punch something. He had more
pressing concerns, however, mainly the fact that the woman in his arms was too
quiet and still.

“
Get me Magda. She’s hurt and needs tending.”

“
Of course, my lord, she’s—”

“
Heavens above, what have we here, Drorgan?” His old
nursemaid interrupted Eugene, and wiping her hands on her starched apron she
advanced as fast as her little legs could carry her rotund four and a half foot
frame. Her grey, unblinking gaze landed on him, and the disdain in her steely
glance made Drorgan feel about five again.
 
Half dragon herself, Magda was a force to be reckoned with at the best
of times. While she couldn’t shift, she possessed the superior strength and
longevity associated with dragons, and she had the power to heal. Something
that was sorely needed by the pale woman in his arms.

Drorgan’s gaze snared on the
shallow movement of her breasts, as she pulled in one erratic breath after the
other, and his ear burned when Magda boxed him upside the head, as though he
was a child again.

“
Stop ogling the poor thing, and bring her up to your
bedchamber. It’s the only one prepared right now, and I need her on a bed so
that I can assess her injuries. What happened here?”

Drorgan glared at one of the
kitchen maids, earning himself another box on the other ear this time, and his
dragon hissed at Magda.

“
Enough of that, you.” Magda glanced up at him, and
then turned toward the young girl. “Stop gawping and jumping to assumptions. If
his lordship had been the one to harm her, he would hardly have brought her
here.”

The girl had the good grace to
flush a bright red, while she nodded, sending her flame colored curls flying
around her face.

“
Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“
Yes, you did. Now, go, tell cook that we have a
guest. No doubt, the poor thing will be starving when she comes ‘round. Bring
up some of that chicken broth we had yesterday, as it will soothe her throat.”
Magda tugged on Drorgan’s arm as she said that, and he obediently lowered the
soft bundle of curves in his arms, so that Magda could hover her hands over
her.

“
Poor thing. I’m surprised she can breathe as well as
she can. Definitely a cracked rib there, and she’ll be covered in bruises. Who
did this, Drorgan?”

Clucking her tongue she turned to
ascend the wide staircase, and Drorgan followed. He didn’t answer her until
they had reached the sanctuary of his bedroom, and he deposited the woman in
the middle of his huge four poster bed.

“
Humans.”
His dragon hissed his answer, and Magda
sighed.

The woman stirred as he lowered
her down. Her eyes fluttered open and widened briefly, when her gaze settled on
the scar on his face.

Clenching his jaw, Drorgan
hastily withdrew into the shadows the oil lamps didn’t reach. He didn’t want to
see those brown eyes fill with disgust, when she realized the extent of his
scarring. Legacy of the many humans who’d tried to best the dragon in times gone
past. Though why he should care of what this human thought of him was beyond
him right now.

“
There, there, relax, my child. You’re perfectly safe
here.” Magda’s soothing voice calmed down his agitated beast like it always
did, and he could see it had the same effect on the unknown woman in his bed.
She stopped struggling to sit up, and sank back down into the covers with a
cough.

“
Don’t try to talk either. That throat looks sore.
I’m going to tend to that in a minute. First things, first, let’s get you out
of these torn clothes. Don’t worry, that big lout will turn around.” Magda
threw him a meaningful look, and Drorgan dutifully turned his back on the bed.
Too bad that he could see the whole scene unfolding reflected back at him
through the stained glass window. Angled as it was to make the most out of the
sun when it came up in the morning, it now afforded a perfect, if slightly
distorted, view of long limbs and curves to die for. Her breasts fell free when
Magda helped her out of the lacy see-though contraption that held them
confined, and Drorgan’s mouth watered with the need to taste that ample fle
sh
. The rosy nipples, hardening in the coolness of the
room, acted like a shining beacon, and his cock stiffened in his breeches.

Behave yourself and stop that
now.

Magda’s voice in his head stopped
him mid adjusting himself, and he froze when she laughed.

She’s not up for any of that,
and besides, if she really is the one we have been waiting for all these years,
it won’t do to scare her away with your boorish attitude.

Drorgan glared at Magda’s
reflection in the window, and his nursemaid raised the eyebrows of doom at him.
You could always tell how annoyed Magda was by the way those thin grey lines
communicated the state of her feelings.

I’m not boorish, and you’re
jumping to conclusions, again. She’s not the one. She can’t be.

The second eyebrow twitched, and
cold sweat ran down between Drorgan’s shoulder blades.

Then why did you bring her
here, if she’s not important to you?

Drorgan had no answer for that, so
he shrugged his shoulders, and blowing out a fiery breath set the fire alight
in the fireplace instead.

The woman on the bed gasped, and
then cried out in pain as Magda twisted her dislocated shoulder back into
place. The click sounded too loud in the quietness of his chamber, and his
dragon itched to come out.

Hearing the woman’s soft tears,
as she valiantly tried to ride the pain he sensed in her, as Magda set to work
on her injuries, was too much. Not caring what anyone else might think of his
actions, he yanked the door to his chamber open. The move almost sent the
kitchen maid—what was her name?—Ursula, Miriam, or some such like—flying into
the room. It was only due to his lightning fast reflexes that the tray
containing the chicken broth didn’t end up on the floor.

His stomach growled loudly as the
delicious scent of the soup invaded his nostrils, and Magda laughed softly
behind him.

“
Don’t mind him, my dear. He’s like all men, a dragon
with a sore head, when he’s hungry.”

Drorgan didn’t wait for the
response. Instead he stormed off, took the stairs to the tallest turret three
at a time and once up there, leapt off the top. His dragon emerged mid jump,
and he took off across the sea. Time to hunt and appease one of his hungers at
least. That way, he would have a chance in hell of keeping his hands off the
woman in his bed.
His bed
for fuck’s sake. The sooner Eugene got that
guest room sorted the better for everyone’s sake.

Giving his dragon full rein he
crashed into the frigid waters of the Irish Sea, collecting his fair share of
fish on the way. Cook would appreciate a fresh influx of sea food, and with a
bit of luck, by the time he was finished freezing his butt off his ardor for
the unknown woman in his bed would have cooled also.

****

Rhonda stared at the silver
haired old lady dressed in simple, roughhewn clothes that could have come
straight out of a medieval novel, back to the door, which still quivered on its
hinges, having been slammed shut by … by who exactly? It hurt her head too much
to try to figure this out, especially as all she had seen of the man was his
impossibly broad shoulders, straining the fabric of his tunic across his back,
those piercing blue eyes, set in a face made from granite with the wicked
looking scar running down to his mouth.