Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (15 page)

She rose from the water, abrading her skin with harsh strokes of the towel as if she could wipe away the memory of his hands as easily. She could not, of course, and to make matters worse, her mind was so occupied with thoughts of him that she did not realize the change. Indeed, if it had not forced her attention, she would not have seen it.

The egg had grown. Not only grown, it had changed colors and now glowed in the darkness. No longer appearing a small red jewel, the egg was orange in color, and larger. It more than filled her navel, and it pulsed. There was no other word for it. Natiya pressed her hand to the egg. Indeed, it throbbed; she felt a tiny beat against her palm, and a deeper, stronger pulse against her womb.

It was the cord that bound them, extending from the egg, through her navel, deep into her body. That was how she fed the egg and how they were bound together. She knew from her parents' studies that the egg could burrow into a person anywhere—an arm or a leg—and grow from there. All it took was a steady hand to cut the egg out when it was time. She had chosen to press the egg to her navel, and now the cord that bound them throbbed like a heartbeat.

And she'd thought Kiril's touches had created this sensation! Except, she thought, frowning, the egg had not been like this before. Certainly it had been as usual in prison. And then...

The Copper. She knew the Copper's plume of fire had been for the egg—a show of power, perhaps. The egg had taken that fire and used it somehow, used that energy to grow and change. It had absorbed the Copper's—

Adulation.

Natiya froze at the egg's remark. Adulation? She did not even know what the word meant. When had the egg ever known what she did not, said anything that she had not taught it?

The Copper knows me, and offers respect.

How do you know this? Natiya demanded, but the egg did not answer. Not out of petulance, she realized, but out of confusion: It did not know how it knew; it simply did. And that was all it would say on the matter. The Copper's fire had been a show of respect.

I used the fire to grow. The Copper has need of me now.

Now? she asked the egg. What need does it have? What will you do?

The egg did not answer. She did not think it knew. Very well, thought Natiya, staring down at her belly. Things were changing. She'd already known that. The egg was growing a mind of its own. This was not all that startling, she told herself. For many seasons now her egg had talked to her independently, thought on its own, even if it mostly echoed back what she told it. It simply had additional information now. Additional input. That was all to the good, right? New information was useful.

She thought the words, believed them even, but she could not control a tremor of panic along her spine. What was happening to her? Was she being corrupted by the egg like Kiril said?

She dressed quickly, pulled on Kiril's trousers and shirt, doing her best not to relish his scent now mixed with her own. She closed her thoughts to the memories, but in her efforts she became careless. As she drew the shirt closed, the fabric brushed across her nipple, and the resulting fire made her gasp in stunned shock. In her belly, the egg twisted and burned, adding to the hunger, magnifying it in pulsing waves that went straight to her womb.

So, she thought, with a kind of dull understanding, the egg took what she felt, the sensations she enjoyed, and magnified them. The effect had never been this powerful. Or had it? Perhaps there had been other times, other moments when her joy seemed magnified, her pain more deeply felt, even her sorrows and frustrations seeming out of proportion to the event. Could that have been the egg? Possibly, but it was hard to tell. Hard to separate what had been her thoughts and feelings and what had been the egg's. They were one and the same, intertwined. That was what it meant to be dragonborn.

Except, the dragon had not hatched yet.

Her hands froze, Kiril's jacket pulled onto only one shoulder. In one thing the egg had always known more than she. In one answer, it had always remained consistent. When asked, it had always said that it would hatch after the cold season—many weeks from now.

Slowly lowering her hands to cover her belly, Natiya shuddered. How long? she thought to the egg. How long until the hatching?

Soon.

How soon?

Less than two weeks.

Natiya felt her knees hit the floor as her body crumpled. Less than two weeks? But she wasn't prepared. She had no place to hide. No place to complete the hatching and then the bonding.

The Queen's clutching cave.

Natiya nodded. Yes, they were near the caves. She would lead Kiril there, then disappear. She knew them as well as anyone. There were hundreds of caves. She could pick one—any one—and hide until she was ready.

The Queen's clutching cave.

The image came strong and clear. The egg wanted to be in its own cave, the one where it had been laid. But they couldn't go there. That was the one place Kiril wanted, the one place he searched for. And it was the one place that would allow the dragon-hunter to kill them when they were most vulnerable. They couldn't go there.

The Queen's cave. Soon.

Why?

Soon.

Before Natiya could ask more, Kiril walked into the room. She spun around, clutching her clothing tight, panic making her heart pound. Then she remembered, he didn't know; he couldn't know. She was fine, safe for now. He didn't know.

He looked at her warily, bowls of steaming meat stew in his hands. His smile was warm, gentle even, as he extended the food. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I knocked, but you didn't answer. So I came in."

"I-I was thinking." She reached out, taking the bowl from his hands, careful not to touch him. She pulled the food closer, inhaling deeply. It smelled heavenly, and the egg twisted hungrily in her navel. "Thank you," she managed to gasp before eating. She tried to go slowly, but suddenly she was famished. She couldn't devour the stew fast enough, and he watched her with a chagrined expression.

"I'm sorry. I should have realized you were starving."

She shook her head, trembling as she tried to control her need. "I didn't know..." she whispered. Then her bowl was empty, as was her flagon of ale. And still her hands shook with hunger. "Is there more?"

He nodded slowly, pushing his own bowl toward her. "Have this. I'll get another."

She should have refused. She intended to; she was a woman, not an animal—there was no need for her to fall on his food as if she were a starveling. Except, she couldn't stop herself. She took his bowl from him, barely restraining herself from snatching it out of his hand. Meanwhile, he took her empty bowl and left the room, an anxious expression on his face.

It took less than a beat for her to finish his food. And his ale. And the pitcher of water as well. Then she began pacing, the egg twisting in her belly, demanding more. Always more. Food, touch, hunger—all desires merged together until Natiya thought she would go mad.

This was not her. This was not the way she acted. And into this madness came the memory of Kiril's words. The beast corrupts. I have seen it.

Natiya dropped down onto the large bed, feeling her shoulders slump. Could it be possible? Was she changing? Was the dragon corrupting her? She didn't know. She didn't think so, but then again, how would she? She tried to remember herself as a child, before she had decided to carry the egg. She had been so young and so angry. Her only thought had been revenge. How would she know if the egg corrupted her?

She needed more information. She needed to know what Kiril knew—what had happened to his cousin and how, all the details that she'd never considered. But how to get the information without arousing his suspicions?

* * *

Kiril returned to the room with two more bowls of stew, and the innkeeper's daughter's boots clutched under one arm. All in all, things were going well. Though the news of Dag Radio's strange behavior had not yet reached this sleepy village on the edge of the Clutching Mountains, other news had. His promotion to governor was well known, making interactions with the innkeeper a great deal smoother. Requests—such as for boots—were filled with speed. And bird messages were dispatched without demur. The innkeeper also informed him that the cold season seemed delayed this year. The mountains were easy travel right now.

But best of all, Natiya was ready. After her bath, she would fall easily into his arms, and tonight he had no doubt he would be able to slake his overwhelming hunger for her. He could hardly take the stairs fast enough.

He pushed open the door, saw her curled tightly against the bed's headboard. Her knees were to her chest and panic flared briefly in her pale blue eyes. Anxiety rolled off of her in palpable waves, and then, abruptly, it disappeared. She took a deep breath, obviously struggling to control her fear, and then she straightened, her every move regal.

D'greth, she was impressive. Perhaps when this was all over he would keep her as his lover. With a few lessons and the right clothes, she would be quite an asset at court. He would be an envied man.

Meanwhile, he smiled warmly at her, extending the boots. "The innkeeper's daughter is about your size. Try them on and see if they fit."

She nodded and took the boots. He watched like a lovesick boy while her dainty feet slipped inside, his body clenching with an absurd desire. How ridiculous that he would envy a pair of boots for being so close to her, but he had been mad for some time—even ready to take her hours ago on his mount! The sight of her slim white ankle slipping inside the dark fur made his mind spin with fantasies.

"Thank you," she said softly. "You have been most kind." Even her voice was enticing, all the more so because it sounded as if she hovered on the edge of control.

Kiril grinned, allowing her to understand some of his thoughts. "Perhaps we can find a different way for you to thank me."

She knew what he meant; he could see it in the way her eyes widened and a shiver trembled through her body, making her breasts jiggle in just the right way. He would have reached for her then, despite his intention to go slowly, except she gestured to the bowls of stew still in his hands.

"Is that for me?"

He looked down and flushed. Some seducer he was, standing in the middle of the room like a servant. "Yes. Of course. Here."

She nodded as she took the bowl, and as before, he could only marvel at the quantity she consumed. But this time she ate slowly—with dignity—though her face was flushed with embarrassment.

"I must seem like a beast to you, eating so much and without manners. Truly, this is so unlike me."

He grinned, finding her nervousness sweet. He would take great delight in showing her that she had nothing to fear from him. "A lot has happened in the last day," he answered gently. "Yesterday you were dancing as usual. Today..." He let his voice trail off, thinking not about today but about tonight.

"Tell me about Jaseen."

It took a moment for her words to penetrate his fantasies. He had been imagining other words on her lips, other requests. "What did you say?"

She looked up and he saw desperation in her expression. "Please, tell me about Dag Jaseen."

"Why?" He had not intended to sound curt and angry, but he was having difficulty reconciling his plans with her question.

"Please. I need to know. I need..." She took a deep breath. "I need some time." She looked at him, probably not realizing her heart shone in her eyes. She was terrified.

He felt his eyes close momentarily as he cursed himself. Of course she was terrified. She was an innocent. He paused to wonder how a dancer could remain so pure. She was clearly terrified of any intimacy. Surely there was a reason for such fear. Fortunately, the best way to discover her secrets was to push their relationship further.

He smiled as he extended his hand. "You needn't be afraid, Natiya. I swear it shall be—"

"Don't touch me!" She scrambled backward, away from him, but she did not curl again into a tiny ball. This time her feet were close to the floor, her body tensed for a leap toward freedom. If he did not move carefully, she would bolt. And then it would be a long, cold night as he went in search for her.

He eased himself down onto the edge of the bed opposite her. "Whatever you say, Natiya. I promised I would not force you, and I meant it." He took a deep breath. D'greth, this lust was becoming an irritation. He had to find a way to release it or he would go insane. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to soothe this virgin's fears. "We can speak of my cousin if you like, but there are many more pleasant things to discuss—"

"Dag Jaseen. Please. Tell me about him."

Well, he had walked right into that. He sighed, reminding himself to be patient. "Very well. But not Dag Jaseen." He swallowed, still finding it difficult to even say the monster's name. "I will tell you about my cousin Jaseen. The man before the change."

She nodded, and he was pleased to see her relax slightly. But then she looked at him, and he knew he had to start talking. About Jaseen.

Stifling a curse, Kiril crossed his arms, feeling his irritation grow but unable to stop it. When he spoke, his words came out without inflection, like stones dropping from a great height to land with a dull thud in the room.