Dragon's Tribute Part 2

"She never met one of us, did she? Her nature remained hidden. Here-taste." He guided her mouth to the puncture wound. "Awaken to your true self."

She licked the drops of blood. The fluid seared her tongue. It burned through it, racking her body with convulsions like a raging fever. She melted, dissolved, re-formed, expanded. Fangs sprouted in her jaws.

Wings burst from her shoulders. A green mist swirled before her eyes. When it cleared, she looked down to find the floor far below and her chest and legs gleaming with blue-green scales. The thong around her neck had snapped. She picked up the amulet and placed it on the treasure heap. She no longer needed protection.

A fire smoldered in the pit of her stomach. Her companion's name bubbled into her head like sparkling wine. She spoke it with a burst of flame: "Viridiseffulgentissimus."

"Rowenaureadulcima," he crooned. Smoke billowed from his jaws. Viridiseffulgentissimus rubbed his fearsome head against hers. "My mate. My beloved. Fly with me."

She slithered to the exit and perched on the ledge with her wings spread. "What did you call me?"

"That name reflects only one facet of your true self. As you grow, you will gain others. And you will learn to speak all of mine."

He leaped into the air. Gathering her courage, she launched herself after him. A gust of wind swept under her wings. She soared high after her mate, with the wind of their flight howling in her ears. They flew straight toward the early morning sun, but its glare caused no pain to her newly keen eyes. The vast, clear blue of the sky beckoned. Within minutes they reached a height that seemed halfway to the gates of Heaven.

This is my adventure!

Gliding on air currents, she gazed down at fields and forests so distant that the patches of green looked like a child's drawing and the widely scattered cl.u.s.ters of houses like toy blocks. "Do not fly low over towns," her mate rumbled. "The fools would shoot arrows at us."

He wheeled around and headed for the higher mountains in the distance. She kept pace, her wings beating tirelessly. The thin, cold air tasted like sparkling wine. Heated by the sun, the fire in her entrails flared to a burst of blue and green smoke that shot from her maw in a column the length of her body.

The heat spread through her veins and transformed to molten sweetness in the cleft beneath her tail. Her mate flew circles around her and ejected a matching gout of smoke. A quick glance showed her the crimson of his erect shaft against his belly.

Suddenly, he flew out of sight. She scarcely had a second to realize he was above her before he swooped down and fastened his jaws in her neck.

A shock went through her, making her inner muscles clench. With a shriek of impatience, she coiled her serpentine tail out of the way. All four of his legs wrapped around her torso, and his talons dug into her scales. The piercing of his claws made her quiver with eagerness. The underside of his wings swept the top of hers. With each stroke, the friction between the membranes shot sparks of excitement along her spine.

His fangs penetrated the scales at the nape of her neck, not quite hard enough to hurt, a fierce sting that quivered on the edge of pain. A subtle forward shift of his weight signaled his intention to start downward. Together they folded their wings and dove toward the earth. At the same instant, his pole surged into her. Her sheath rippled around him. Their hurtling descent sharpened the sensation until she almost blacked out from the exquisite blend of pleasure and near-pain. Lightning flashed behind her eyelids.

His shaft slid in and out, gliding along the liquid heat inside her. She clenched her inner muscles, trapping him. The angle of their dive steepened, forcing his c.o.c.k to plunge into her up to the root. The fullness of his b.a.l.l.s pressed against her cleft. Shuddering in release, she felt his molten seed spurt into her depths.

Just as the ground rushed toward them, he opened his wings and lofted both himself and her skyward. In the fading convulsions of ecstasy, she threw her head back and roared a tower of flame. His fire leaped to meld with hers.

Breaking their embrace, they flew toward the mountains again. "What would you wish now, my beloved?" he said.

"Fly higher!" So they did.

Chapter Three.

At the next dawn, Rowena woke restored to woman-shape, once more alone on the pile of silks. For a moment she imagined the past two days might have been a fever dream, a delirium born of her terror at being staked out for a monster. When she came fully awake, though, she realized it had all happened as she remembered, the dragon's lovemaking and her own transformation. At the sight of her grandmother's amulet, he had suspected Rowena of dragon ancestry. A taste of her blood had confirmed that belief.

And one searing drop of his blood on her tongue had wakened her dragon nature and given her the power to change her form. After a day of soaring flight, she had returned to the lair exhausted.

She gazed at the pearlescent glow of the cave walls and the pile of gems and coins. A scent like charred pine boughs p.r.i.c.kled her nose. The draft from the crevice high overhead cooled the sheen of sweat on her bare arms. "Virid-" The dragon was nowhere to be seen. She tried to speak his full name, but she discovered she couldn't manage it with her human mind and tongue.

He sought a mate, he'd said, a female to bear his young. Sitting up and allowing the cloth to slide off her naked body, Rowena ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Do I want to live the rest of my life in a cave as a dragon's mate? Now that she knew her own true nature, she had choices. A woman couldn't climb down the ravine, but a she-dragon could fly away. Still musing over the strangeness of her new life, she walked to the bathing chamber. Her thighs and the cleft between them were sore but not truly painful.

The cave felt less chilly to her today. Perhaps the stirring of her dragon blood bestowed inner heat that kept her warm. While splashing in the bathing pool, she recalled Virid's ardor and his words of love.

What did love mean to a creature so far from human, even if he could take man-shape at will? True, he had ravished her with his lovemaking. Her quim tingled at the thought. Yet could they share a life based on carnal delights alone?

After drying herself, she rummaged in the chests near the treasure h.o.a.rd. She found a linen undertunic and green kirtle that fit her well enough. She left her feet bare. With a tortoisesh.e.l.l comb, she worked the knots out of her hair, then plaited it into a single braid. She drank water from another spring she found in a side niche and ate two peaches to soothe the grumbling of her stomach. Since they hadn't made her sick the last time, she decided raw fruit must be safe to eat, after all. Just as she tossed the second peachpit off the edge of the precipice, Virid came swooping toward the cave with a pair of rabbits in his claws.

His wingspread overshadowed her, making her breath catch in her chest. She had momentarily forgotten how huge his dragon body loomed. He vowed not to harm me, she reminded herself. She backed up to let him enter.

"You human folk need to eat so often," he rumbled. "A good meal fills me for days." Depositing the rabbits in the fire pit, he skinned them with his claws and then roasted them with his flame breath. "Eat quickly, my precious one. Regain your strength so we can mate again." His tongue snaked around her neck and insinuated itself down her bodice between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Waves of fire and ice rippled through her. "Again?" Her breath caught in her throat. "From what I've heard from married women, human men can't have that many c.o.c.kstands in two days. Don't you ever grow tired of f.u.c.king?" She blushed at the crude word that slipped out, but for a creature more vigorous than any stallion, it seemed fitting.

"I cannot say, since it has been so long since I-f.u.c.ked." Humor tinged his voice, as if her blush amused him. "We dragons have become so few that we encounter our own kind very seldom. It is part of our nature to mate hard and often when the chance arises. Otherwise we would not beget enough offspring to preserve our race."

His voice lowered to a growl. "I need to f.u.c.k you now. The meat will take some time to cool anyway."

He hooked a claw in her bodice. "Disrobe at once."

His imperious tone roused indignation that fought with the excitement in the pit of her stomach. "What am I, your mate or your slave?"

He reared onto his hind legs, his jaws gaping and his pole standing at full erection. Rowena drew back, a tremor coursing through her. He can't kill me, she rea.s.sured herself. Not if he thinks I am his true mate.

"Forgive me, my golden treasure." He shrank and shimmered into human form. " I do not mean to frighten you. Blame the strength of my ardor."

He held out his arms. Hesitantly, she stepped into the circle of his embrace. One of his hands rubbed the center of her back like a man gentling a skittish mare. The other lifted her braid and let it slide through his fingers. She felt him picking apart the entwined locks.

"What are you doing?" she murmured. His hand ma.s.saging her through the fabric of the kirtle sent ripples of sensation chasing each other down her spine. His touch drained away her fear. "I want to see and touch it unbound." When he finished unbraiding her hair, he let it cascade through his fingers. "Like a waterfall of molten gold." He raised a few strands to his face and inhaled. "Your scent is delicious."

"I like yours, too." With her head leaning on his chest, Virid's aroma of spices and pine boughs tickled her nose. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth layer of tiny scales.

With a deep-pitched chuckle, he ran his fingers through her hair again and again, letting it trickle through his loose grasp like the waterfall he'd mentioned. Young Will Baker had never taken the time for such caresses. Most often, he had groped her between her legs with the first kiss. Rowena sighed and snuggled tighter against Virid, whose upstanding c.o.c.k pressed hard on her lower abdomen.

Meanwhile, he continued stroking her back, moving lower little by little. She tilted her head to gaze into his smoldering eyes. She put her own hand on his chest, fascinated by the smoothness of the tiny scales.

When she shifted her fingers to brush his right nipple, the tip hardened like a pebble. He drew in a hissing breath, and his eyes widened. His hand crept down her spine until he gathered up her skirt, and his palm splayed over her a.r.s.e. He rubbed the twin globes in slow circles. Moisture pooled between her legs.

Planting her feet farther apart, she pressed against him to bring her wet folds in contact with the curve of his hip. The cloth tucked between them made her moan in frustration.

Virid looked down at her with a smile that showed the points of his sharp teeth. "You seem uncomfortable."

The teasing tone emboldened her. She squirmed, trying to fit his c.o.c.k into the triangle at the apex of her legs. Still smiling, he shifted to evade her efforts. She stood on tiptoe and nipped his shoulder. Again he hissed. His arms tightened around her. "Here's a mortal biting a dragon! Why such fierceness?"

"I need more. Please."

"Do you desire me?" he said, lowering his head to nuzzle the top of hers.

A blush suffused her. "You know I do."

"You are no longer afraid?" With the hand under her skirt, he clasped her bare bottom. One of his fingers slid between her b.u.t.tocks and probed the crack.

She gasped. A fresh gush of liquid flooded her cleft. "No. I'm not afraid now." She paused to consider the question. Their embrace seemed to demand honesty. "Not right this moment. I was a little while ago." "What changed?"

"This." She stretched her legs and again tried to rub against his shaft through the bunched fabric of her kirtle. "If you want me, I know you won't hurt me. And I want you too much to fear your touch." Did she really dare to say these things to a creature not even human?

"I have already vowed I would never harm you. I do not want to cause you pain. Have you recovered from our last coupling?" His voice, no longer teasing, roughened with desire.

"Yes," she breathed. Her heart raced. She felt lightheaded. The traces of soreness between her legs faded to nothing when his fingers crept from behind into her wet quim. She automatically moved her thighs apart to give him easier access. A growl in his chest and the twitching of his c.o.c.k a.s.sured her he felt the same urgency. He thrust one finger inside her while others played with her damp curls and teased her bud. It felt unbearably swollen and tight. Her sheath squeezed his finger, but she needed more.

"Please-"

"Tell me what you want."

"Frig me!"

He strummed her bud. She clung to him and rocked back and forth, his c.o.c.k bouncing against her stomach. He watched her face, as if savoring her pa.s.sion.

"Do the same for me," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

She gripped his shaft and pumped up and down. His jaws clenched, and his breath became as rapid and shallow as hers. The bolts of pleasure shooting through her made her movements erratic, but he made no complaint about the way the pattern of her strokes turned into a series of random jerks and squeezes.

Her whole consciousness narrowed to the vibrations between her thighs. Her bud quivered, and he rubbed even faster. She spent in ever-widening ripples of exquisite sensation.

"Now!" he growled. He spun her around and pushed her face down onto the cushions. Still trembling with her release, she didn't resist. Virid hiked up her skirt, shoved her knees apart, and rammed his c.o.c.k into her slick ca.n.a.l. This time it felt tight but not painful. Her whole body shook with the force of his thrust. He paused at full depth, grasping her b.u.t.tocks. She felt the muscles of his thighs quivering.

"Don't stop!" Her fists closed on the cushion under her, and she bit into a fold of the silk. His shaft slid out of her, inch by inch, then slowly penetrated to the root again. "Faster," she whimpered.

"Give me your c.l.i.toris." "My what?" she gasped.

"This." One of his hands burrowed between her thighs and found the aching bud. "It means a little hill in the Greek tongue. The peak of your pa.s.sion." He rubbed vigorously while pounding into her. She thrust back and forth with him, struggling to find the rhythm.

He quickened his pace. She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck, sending waves of heat and cold down her spine. His other hand cupped her breast. "Now, my love!"

His fingers danced faster over her c.l.i.toris. He thrust into her deeper than she had imagined he could. Her flesh pulsed in harmony with the tremors of his taut muscles. She was flying higher-higher- The molten heat of his seed shot into her. Her arms and legs stiffened. Her upper body rose off the cushion, her back arched, and she cried out in a shattering culmination.

Exhausted, she lay with her face buried in the silk until Virid gently rolled her over. With her eyes closed, she felt him clean her thighs with a cool, damp cloth and pat them dry with another. He rearranged her clothes and took her by the hand. Opening her eyes, she gazed into the emerald glow of his. No, she did not fear him now. He'd called her "love." While she couldn't be sure what the word meant to him, it was clear that he meant to cherish her.

"Come to the fire and eat, my golden one. You need plenty of food to nourish the babe we shall conceive."

Putting the uneasy notion of mothering a dragon child out of her mind, she let him lead her to the meat he had seared, now comfortably warm. Her stomach cramped with hunger at the odor. She eagerly bit into the haunch he sliced off for her.

A few minutes later, with the sharpness of both l.u.s.t and hunger blunted, she managed to collect her thoughts enough to speak. Munching a leg of roast rabbit, she waved at the scattered chests and caskets near the treasure heap. "What's in those besides books, clothes, and bolts of cloth? More jewels?"

"Not all of them. When you finish your meal, I will show you."

After eating her fill of the meat, she washed in a basin of water from the spring and followed Virid to the nearest casket. He opened it to display a pile of loose pearls-hundreds, even more than were sewn on the Baroness' festival gown. Rowena gasped and ran her fingers through them. The pearls slid over her skin like a cool stream.

"Yes, they have beauty," Virid said, "but why human folk ascribe such special value to gems and shinymetals, I have never understood. These other treasures are equally precious." He opened a larger chest.

Stacks of rolled-up scrolls filled it. "Some of these are a thousand years old, in languages you have never heard of."

She skimmed a fingertip along the edge of one parchment roll. Ancient tongues seemed as mysterious as magic to her, since she could not even read her own language. "Can you read them?"

"Some. I have had many centuries to learn."

Shivering at this fresh mention of his vast age, Rowena decided not to ask for a precise number. How could such a creature view her as more than a temporary amus.e.m.e.nt, the way a caged sparrow might be for a human captor in the brief time before its death? Or did the wakening of her dragon blood mean she, too, would have a lifespan like Virid's? She wasn't sure which prospect troubled her more.

He showed her a chest full of bound books-codexes, he called them. "Soon I will teach you to read, if you wish it." Another chest held swords and daggers wrapped in oiled cloth to preserve them from rust.

Bolts of silk and linen filled other boxes, along with luxurious garments in green, blue, gold, and scarlet, decorated with delicate embroidery, dazzling in contrast to the drab russet she'd worn all her life. Some of the robes looked exotically different from the clothes the Baron's family wore. Perhaps they came from distant countries.

"You haven't always lived here, have you?" she said. She vaguely remembered the grandsires of her village mentioning a time before the dragon had shadowed their lives.

"Only for about fifty years. No matter how pleasant a lair is, I cannot keep it forever. I must move from place to place until human memories fade, and I can return to a former home."

From the chest he picked out a cloak lined with fur. She had never seen the like, even on the Baron or his lady. Virid draped it around her shoulders. "You will need this if you feel chilled."

"I don't, but I like it anyway." She ran her fingers over the fur lining, smoother and softer than any kitten or downy chick.

He showed her an alcove with shelves carved into the rock wall. Gla.s.s vials of different colors lined the shelves. "Distilled nectar of poppies," he said, holding up one of several red bottles, "for the relief of pain and the invocation of sleep. I have used it to calm some of my tribute maidens. I am pleased that your courage makes it unnecessary."

Although chilled by the image of young women drugged into a stupor for the dragon's convenience, shealso felt a flush of pleasure. No one had ever credited her with courage before. "What about the other bottles?"

He touched a vial of green gla.s.s. "Tincture of willow bark for the cooling of fevers." Then one of violet.

"These hold a cordial to stop coughing. Some of my guests have become ill from the coolness of my lair."

Finally he picked up a blue bottle, one of only two. "All the others come from the skill of apothecaries.

This one is true magic, a potion of healing. That is why I have so little of it."

She looked over his strong, smooth-muscled body. "Why would you ever need healing?"

With a dry laugh, he said, "Knights and wizards sometimes dare to attack me, and sometimes they succeed. I have suffered enough wounds to be glad of this magic." Taking her hand in his cool grasp, he led her to another alcove, packed with barrels and casks of various sizes. "Mead, wines from Burgundy and Italy, and a fiery liquor made by the Hibernians across the sea. They call it water of life."

Dazed by the sheer profusion of precious objects, Rowena freed her hand from his and sank onto the cushions again, rubbing her temples to quiet the turmoil of her thoughts. "Why do you have all these things? What use are they to you?"

"It is the nature of dragons to h.o.a.rd wealth of all kinds. Some treasures I gathered on my own, but many of these objects were given to me as tribute by folk in the regions where I lived before I settled here." He sat cross-legged beside her.

"To bribe you not to eat their daughters?"

"I have told you, I do not eat human flesh. At least, except during times of desperate starvation. A sheep or cow or even a deer tastes much better." A laugh as cold as polished silver rippled from him. "Not that my human neighbors needed to know that. Yes, they lavished gifts on me to protect themselves from my appet.i.te."

His casual dismissal of human fears sparked anger in Rowena. "You don't deny you've killed people sometimes, do you?"

He shook his head with obvious impatience. "Your kind are my natural prey. When human men have dared to strike at me with their crude weapons, of course I have slain them."