Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (43 page)

"You can trust me," he pressed.

She laughed in response. "Is that why you stand with your sword in your hand? Why you still vow to kill me—"

"Not you. The—"

"The dragon," she finished for him. "Except, after the separation, I will be the Queen, and she me. What will you do then?"

He didn't answer, and she turned away from him, needing to think, needing to understand. "My mother believed the dragons acted as a magnifying glass."

She heard his gasp as he stepped closer. "I thought your mother died—"

"Many years ago, yes. But I have her journal." It was the one thing she'd brought with her from the Emperor's palace. She had tucked it in a secret pocket of her clothing, and pulled it out now, handing it to him.

He took it, but his eyes remained on her. "You are sure it's authentic?"

"Yes. And she is sure that what the dragons do is increase our feelings."
 

"But why?"

She looked around the cave, still exploring her theory. "I have never felt desire before. Not like—"

"Like when we are in these damned caves." His eyes grew angry. "This dragon magic—"

"Yes, magic. But it is not pervasive. It is merely an augmentation... of our lust."

"But Jaseen was not... belly-horned. Not normally. He became—"

"Violent, yes. So that is who he was. And Rashad always wanted to control, to possess. As for me, I have become more and more—"

"Curious. You want to know everything—the hows and the whys. But why would the dragons do this to us? What does it benefit them?"

"She says they're looking for the perfect human." He opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I don't know what that means, but she swears they aren't here to hurt us. I know you don't trust her word, but I do." She opened her arms to him. "I can read her mind as well as she reads mine, Kiril. I believe her."

He stepped forward, caressing her arms as he, too, struggled with many thoughts. Her tremors began immediately, like tiny brush fires beneath her skin wherever he touched her. Without conscious thought, she leaned into him, already lifting her lips for his kiss. And in the quiet corner of her mind where the Queen most often lurked, she felt an answering shiver of pleasure.

"This is why," she murmured. "Because they cannot feel."

His thoughts were not as clouded as hers. He was not nearly as intoxicated as she—by his touch, his scent, his presence. Or perhaps he did feel it. Perhaps he was stronger than she, maintaining better control.

"They do not feel love?"

"They do not feel anything except for a slight quickening when they hunt. They feel—nothing. Without us."

"How is that possible?"

She shook her head, already stretching up on her toes to brush her lips across his. "I don't know, but it is true. I am sure of it." And she was. "They need us—our ability—in order to feel what we do. Their lives are cold, Kiril, empty of passion, empty of everything but a daily knowledge of what they lack."

"Yet they reason? They think?"

She nodded, and the movement shifted her breasts across his chest. His hands had dropped to her hips and he drew her harder against his swelling sex. And again, in the back of her mind, she felt the dragon's attention, felt the Queen's need.

"Then they are the deadliest of enemies, because they act without emotion."

She smiled at that, allowing her tongue to trace the curve of his mouth. "Or they are the most capable of allies, swayed only by reason."

"Can it be possible?" He sounded incredulous, and she took advantage of his distraction to dart her tongue inside his mouth, teasing him before she withdrew.

"It is more than possible, Kiril," she said, and she allowed her hands to wander lazily about his toned body. "It is."

He grabbed her hands, stopping her as he gazed sternly into her eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you touching me?"

She grinned. "I am testing my theory, Kiril." She twisted her hands free from his grasp. "I can feel the Queen's attention. She cares nothing for our discussion. She barely listens to our plans for the Emperor, or even her coming fight with the Copper." She let her hands drop abruptly to his hips, slipping quickly around until she released the catch of his pants. Within moments she was holding him hard and ready in her bare hand. It was like cupping power. She could not only sense the trembling hunger within Kiril, but she gloried in the excitement of how deeply he trusted her to let her touch him like this. Now. And she reveled in the knowledge of what she could do to him. What she wanted to do to him.

"The Queen wants to know what this feels like," Natiya explained, then abruptly released him, stepping backward, though it took all her will to do so. "And when I stop, she loses interest."

They stood together in silence, waiting while Natiya focused on the Queen. Only a few beats later, the dragon grew distracted by a flash of lightning far out to sea. A storm was brewing, and the wyrm wanted to test her wings against the shifting air currents that boiled around such weather.

Kiril stood back, looking from Natiya to the dark sky and then back to her. "So, what does it all mean?"

She grinned and stepped up to him, running her hands beneath his shirt and lifting it so she could kiss his velvety soft chest. "It means that we know now what the dragons want. They want our emotions—our joys and our fears. Hatred, jealousy, envy, paranoia, and—"

"Love?" he asked as he touched her face. "Do they want to feel love?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Love most of all," she said, and she began swirling her tongue around the hard disk of his nipple.

She heard his gasp of reaction even as his hands began to strip away her clothing. Then she felt the tug of the Queen's attention as a lightning bolt of desire sizzled straight to her womb.

"She likes this," Natiya whispered.

"So do I," Kiril answered.

Natiya giggled. "And I."

And at that moment, the Copper shot across the skyline headed straight for the Queen.

Chapter 20

Kiril cursed, long and fluidly. He'd been caught belly-horned and naked once again. What was it about these cursed clutching caves that made him lose track of every shred of survival instinct? Or perhaps he should be wondering what it was about Natiya that made him forget? Either way, at least this time he was better prepared. The fight was in the air—or soon would be. His own plan required him to climb up the mountain, but he had a little time yet.

Thank Amia they'd moved to a different cave soon after the hatching. This one was high in the mountains and easily protected from soldiers. And since none of the traps he'd set up had gone off, Kiril knew he had at least thirty beats yet before anyone stormed the cave.

Glancing over, he saw Natiya wouldn't be of any help. Her gaze was completely unfocused, and he guessed her mind was locked with the Queen's in preparation of the aerial battle. She'd realized what was happening before he did, of course. The heavy stroke of the Copper's wings had barely registered in his consciousness before Natiya knew he was there, heating the air above the Clutching Mountains with his battle flame. Whether she'd been alerted through the Queen or some other dragonborn sensitivity, he didn't know; nor did he care. What was most important now was to find out if Dag Racho rode his Copper or lurked somewhere nearby.

Natiya had said that no rider could remain mounted during a true dragon fight. Of course, the Emperor was arrogant enough to attempt it, so Kiril could take nothing for granted. He pulled on his clothes, his eyes remaining fixed on the distant fires, trying to make out the silhouette of the Copper. He could only see plumes of flame, intermittent and weak, and almost all directed at the Queen. And the Queen wasn't quite old enough to have gained her full potential.

Frustratingly, Kiril could really see nothing. But Natiya could. And so, before the first of his traps triggered, he would—

A snap, then a clatter rumbled through the cave as a store of rocks and debris rattled down the side of the mountain. His first trap. Time had abruptly shortened. Which meant he had to find and kill the Emperor, now, before any soldiers reached Natiya.

He had to guide her to safety first. Gently he pulled up her shirt, rebuttoning it in a ridiculous waste of time; but he couldn't just leave her half naked for the soldiers to jeer at, should he fail. He then began tugging her, leading her to a hiding spot inside the cave. It wasn't much—just a tiny niche tucked behind a pile of rocks—but it was more defensible and might gain her a few beats. If she had any idea what was happening to her body, that was.

"Are the dragons fighting yet?" he asked. He couldn't see a damn thing.

"Not yet," she said, her voice clipped and breathy. "Soon."

"Can you see the Copper? Is the Emperor riding him?"

"Yes." Her eyes narrowed. "And no."

He frowned, needing to be sure. "Racho isn't on the Copper?"

"Not there."

Good. That meant the Emperor was probably near his troops. Which put Kiril back in play.

"I'm going now. Keep safe." Then he took another precious moment to drop a kiss on her lips. She was barely aware of him, he knew, but he wanted to touch her. He wanted to pretend that she worried for him almost as much as he worried for her. Especially since the odds of him—a single swordsman—prevailing against a troop of the Emperor's finest bodyguards made his future look extremely bleak.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say something to her; exactly what, he wasn't sure, but he held back. He hadn't the time to analyze his thoughts right then, and she certainly couldn't afford the distraction. And so he doused the fire—both in his thoughts and in the cave—since she didn't need it, and he couldn't afford it. Then he slipped into the night.

Well, he thought as he peered down the mountainside, Racho's troops obviously trusted the odds, because they certainly weren't worried. They carried firesticks and made enough sound to wake the entire country. Good. Let them be overconfident. Compared to some of the dragons he'd fought, they were nothing more than a swarm of pesky flies.

Or so he told himself as he slipped lower through the brush. Besides, the troops weren't his goal. He had little choice but to let them struggle on, triggering his traps one by one, until through sheer numbers—because d'greth, there were a horde of them—they overcame the resistance and marched into Natiya's cave. He hoped they wouldn't hurt her. Dag Racho had already named her his queen, and he prayed those orders would still hold.

He looked back toward the cave, unusually torn by fear. He wanted to stand by Natiya's side, defending her to his last breath. But he had a more crucial task at hand. And that meant carefully slipping through the rank and file until he found the Emperor. Fortunately, Kiril had been on many of Racho's war raids. He knew where to find his quarry. So he kept doggedly on, slipping through the underbrush toward the soldiers.

They were veterans, he noted with dispassionate annoyance. But Kiril had perfected his stealth skills against dragons, magical creatures with senses far keener than any human's. And as long as—

Kiril cursed long and fluently inside his head, hunkering down behind a nearby bush and waiting out his stupidity. Apparently, Dag Racho's men weren't the only ones prone to overconfidence. In his arrogance, Kiril had managed to slip past the primary patrol and forgot about the secondary. That meant he had just wiggled his way into the center of a double fan of soldiers. He was stuck, hunkered down half inside a thornbush while others slowly worked their way uphill.

No problem. He could wait.

Except, of course, the longer he waited, the shorter a time he would have to dispatch the Emperor before soldiers found Natiya. And, too, the idiots were about to trigger another of his rock slides. One that would happen to fall right down on top of this measly bush he was using as camouflage.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. He needed a distraction.

He twisted the tiniest fraction, stifling a curse as a dozen tiny pinpricks scratched his skin. Fortunately, he didn't have to shift much—just enough to see the vine that was stretched through a narrow cluster of trees. All he needed was someone to walk against it. Someone with heavy boots who wouldn't notice the vine until it was too late. And looky there, a perfect candidate was working his way right into the cluster.