Dragon's Kiss

Tielle St. Clare

Dragon’s Kiss

2

Tielle St. Clare

Dragon’s Kiss

3

DRAGON’S KISS

An Ellora’s Cave publication written by

TIELLE ST. CLARE

MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-520-1

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

© Copyright Tielle St. Clare, June 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.

Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA

Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK

This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or
any other mode of communication without author/publisher permission.

Edited by
Ann Richardson

Cover Art by
Bryan Keller

Tielle St. Clare

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Warning:

The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers.
DRAGON’S KISS has been rated NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly
suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this
ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

Tielle St. Clare

Dragon’s Kiss

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Chapter 1

The fire burned across her skin, searing its memory into her flesh. Forever would she feel its
touch. Crave it. The heat entered her body as a roaring flame and melted the frozen depths of her
heart. Need filled her–turning her fear into desire.
She twisted on the bed, trying to tear free of the dream. She knew it was a dream, knew it was only her mind holding her captive but she had no power. She couldn’t break its grip.

Mine.

The voice whispered through her soul and she shook her head.
No!

Her dream-self raced through the forest, running from the creature that wanted to claim her,
consume her. He was behind her, ever nearer.

“No, no, please.”

Fire broke out across the sky and surrounded her, trapping her. She stopped, faced with the
wall of flames. Spinning around, she faced him.

Black eyes stared at her. Inhuman eyes that warned of lust and death. Flames dribbled from
his mouth, licking at her legs. She felt the heat but it didn’t burn. His long neck craned forward,
moving his massive head toward her body. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. The
rough wool gown flipped up, baring her legs to her thighs. She tried to pull the material down
but the creature was there. He nuzzled her hand aside and moved forward, pressing the blunt
end of his nose against her sex.

The beast’s voice filled her head.

Mine.

“No!”

Lorran’s scream shattered the dream. She jerked awake as her own voice reverberated through the cabin. The rapid patter of her heart filled her ears, blocking out all sound. She rolled over, curling onto her side and staring blankly across the room.

She could feel him. He was near, ready to possess her. She shivered despite the warmth of her blankets. The creature hadn’t wanted to capture her—he’d wanted to possess her, own her very soul.

Dreams had haunted her for years—horrifying images of flames and death. The screams of the victims. But never like this. Never before had she felt her own vulnerability.

She stared into the pale morning light, unwilling to release the scant comfort of her bed and the childish need to hide under the blankets. The dream was still with her. The scuffle of heavy feet followed by a loud thump on her front door dragged her from under the bedcovers. She pulled on a robe but hesitated at the door. The villagers Tielle St. Clare

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hadn’t exactly welcomed her. There was no reason anyone would visit her at this hour, or any hour for that matter. Except to demand that she leave. Again. After the terrifying dream, she wasn’t up to more threats. She waited.

The pounding repeated.

“Mistress! We’ve need of your help.” The deep voice was unfamiliar. “Mistress, are you there?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. Still cautious, she cracked open the door and peeked out.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight. A huge man dressed in full battle leathers with a broad sword belted to his hip crowded her as she opened the door.

“Yes?” she said, backing away as he pressed forward. He entered her house and she saw the reason for his haste—a man, equally as large, draped over his right shoulder. Blood stained the scarred battle leathers covering his legs and the white linen shirt he wore.

“Where can I put him?”

“There,” she said, pointing to the bed in the corner. The tiny cabin didn’t allow for more than one room. She slept, ate and lived in the single space. Now she’d just offered her bed to a wounded man.

The stranger stalked to the small bed. In a quick but gentle move, he shrugged his burden off his shoulder and caught him, lowering the body onto the mattress. As he stepped away, Lorran saw the truth—the man wasn’t just wounded. A large gouge opened his chest. Blood drenched the torn shirt and dripped down the man’s face. She looked at the chest wound.

“That’s a dragon bite,” she said, speaking the obvious.

“Yes. I couldn’t risk taking him to town. I heard you had an interest in dragons.”

She nodded. That was probably the nicest thing anyone in town had said about her. Usually they called her a dragon whore.

“Can you help him?”

He asked the question simply. But the answer wasn’t simple. Lorran looked into his eyes. He was young but the grim light of determination told her he knew the wounded man’s fate.

“I can nurse him. It will depend on the Gods if he survives.”

“And if he survives?” He stared at her with a warrior’s eyes—cold and deadly.

“Can you help him?”

She knew what he was asking. The warrior waited. She thought about lying, considered giving him the answer he wanted to hear, what anyone would want to hear at this point.

But she couldn’t.

“I don’t know.” She looked down at the torn and crumpled body. The faint smell of sulfur clung to his clothes. Dragonfire. Burn marks stained his leather trousers and the edges of his shirt. The leather chest protector that should have been there was gone. “I can try,” she finally said.

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“Is there hope? Is there some possibility that it can be stopped?” He placed his hand on the hilt of the broad sword that hung at his waist. “I need to know.”

Emotions welled up in Lorran’s chest at the subtle threat. She knew what would happen if she said no. The man would die. Better to die than…

“Yes.” She turned away. She didn’t lie well and feared it might show in her face. She looked at the wounded man. There was something familiar about him. “The sooner I tend to him, the better chance he has.” That was a lie as well, but at least it would give her something to do. And it was something to distract the soldier who waited for an answer. She glanced up as she moved to collect water and cloth to clean the wound. The soldier didn’t believe her—it was obvious on his face—but maybe, he wanted some hope to cling to as well. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. The truth would reveal itself soon enough.

“Do what you can.” With that command, he turned and stalked to the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?” She hurried behind him. He couldn’t just leave a wounded stranger in her care—particularly not one suffering from a dragon bite. Dragon bites were too uncertain. And the potential damage was too great.

“I have to return,” he said, stepping onto the porch. “If rumor gets out that he’s been attacked, we’ll have a rebellion on our hands.”

Lorran watched him walk away. “But—but—I don’t know how to get a hold of you. How do you want me to contact you?”

“I’ll send a guard from the Castle daily for updates as to his progress.”

“The Castle? Who are you?” She looked at the bloodied man in her bed. “Who is he?”

“I’m Riker. That’s Kei.”

Lorran felt the blood drain from her face.

“Kei the Dragon Slayer,” she said unnecessarily.

“Yes.” Riker turned and walked away, climbing on the back of his horse before calling out his final instruction. “Tell no one who he is or that he’s here. The safety of the Kingdom could depend on it.”

His long hair caught the breeze as he kicked the flanks of his horse, spurring the beast along. Lorran watched until he was out of sight and she was left alone to tend to the man who’d killed her husband.

* * * * *

Fire burned through his chest. The flame entered his blood and rode the veins through the depths of his body, burning away the traces of humanity and leaving behind a new creature. The man’s body burned. He arched up, pressing down on his shoulders and the heels of his feet, fighting the invasion but it was too late. The beast was there, invading the empty corners of his soul.

“Shh. Relax. Breathe for me. Breathe.” The voice poured over his body like cool water, smothering the fire. The tension faded and he dropped back onto the bed.

“That’s it. Breathe. Long, deep breaths.” His eyes were glued shut by pain but he tried to follow her orders. He inhaled and filled his lungs with her scent. It reminded him of Tielle St. Clare

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sun-warmed hay and a fresh pine wood fire. The sweet smell eased him even further.

“That’s it. Sleep.”

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel her moving away. His hand shot out, snagging her thin wrist. The tiny bone would crack in his hand if he wished it. He tried to ease his grip but couldn’t force his hand to relax.

“Stay.” The voice didn’t sound like his but he knew it was. The memories were returning. He had no idea how long he’d been here or how long he’d been caught in the fire. “Please,” he added, some latent etiquette emerging.

“Of course. I’ll stay.”

She was lying. He knew it. She’d stay until he was asleep and then she’d run. Instinct screamed at him to grab her, hold her. Bind her to him so she couldn’t escape. The human in him grew sick at the thought.

Kei willed his fingers to uncurl from around her wrist. His soul wailed in pain but he rolled away, turning his back to the woman.

He curled his arm beneath his head and concentrated, feeling his body from the inside out. Something was strange—invading his senses, becoming a part of him. He couldn’t open his eyes but he knew Riker was gone. Left alone with the female. He breathed in again and recognized her scent, tasted it on his lips. She was strange, yet familiar. Fog crept over his mind, easing him into sleep—a sleep clouded with dreams.
The woman was there. He couldn’t see her face but he knew her taste. Intimately knew her
taste. She lay spread before him, offering herself to him. Knowing he was welcome, that she
sought his touch, he sank down before her and placed his mouth against her wet, hot sex open to
him.

It was perfect. This was what he’d craved all his life. Her flavor, her scent, the feel of her skin
against his. He had to have her, hold her.

Panic like he’d never felt in all his years as a warrior dug into his gut, wrapping itself
around his genitals like an iron fist. She would leave him. He couldn’t let her leave him.
She faded from his hands, disappearing and reappearing a few feet away. He crawled toward
her—she backed away. He reached for her. Fear flared in her eyes. She turned, dodging his grip.
He clutched at her fading figure. He had to have her, had to keep her. She vanished.
No. Mine!
The word raged in his head. She was gone. The heart-crushing panic was on him again and he fought it, sought the strength of a warrior, the stoic face he’d learned as a child. All that remained was silence.

She was gone.

She’d left him.

* * * * *

Lorran chewed on her thumbnail and paced the tiny room. She glanced back every few seconds to the man twisting on her bed. Sweat clung to his body as he struggled. The internal battle would continue. Three days was standard for the trance that accompanied a dragon bite.