A Passion Draconic

Healer-Priestess Shaiandral would rather let the Dragonlord rot than save him. But when her Healer’s oath is called upon, she must rise above the contention between their two shifter tribes and travel to his realm.

When she arrives, the Dragonlord Veren is dying of a magical toxin. Shaiandral makes a sacrifice of her own blood to raise the required energy for healing, but her actions raise a demon from Veren’s flesh. A demon that can become incorporeal at will and is impossible to fight.

The demon gives her two options. She can either sacrifice her Oath-bound virginity to heal Veren–or she can become his new host. At first Shaiandral refuses, but faced with a choice between losing her virginal power or losing herself, she chooses the lesser of two evils. Taking hold of the rising energies, she threads them into a complex weave. Just when she thinks she’s failed, Veren takes a deep breath, returning to life. Using the power released in her orgasm, Shaiandral forces the demon into a wilting red rose, binding him forevermore.

Except Shaiandral has caused more problems than she’s solved. The sacrifice has left her with a sudden, consuming lust–and an inexplicable attraction to Veren, a man she should hate. Now, a demonic infiltration threatens both their realms. Can they overcome their differences and work together to stop this threat before the demons take hold once more?

Available now from Liquid Silver Books.

 

Excerpt:
(Warning: Contains graphic sexual content)

 

 

Chapter One

 

Time was running out. Shaiandral could feel it. Lightning flashed in the stormy sky above, sending iridescent sparks coruscating off the dragon-scale exterior of the palace. Her side ached as she came closer, and her breath came in low pants. She’d been walking too far, too fast, for too long. Hurry, damn it. It isn’t far now. You’re nearly there.

Shaiandral’s knees and legs screamed in pain as she drew closer to the rain-slickened onyx stairs that led to the palace entrance. She leaned on her carved wooden staff, trying not to slip as she limped up the steps, gasping for breath. At the top, she stared at the great palace doors that stretched three times her height. A pristine white dragon’s skull lay embedded in the center of the doors, contrasting with the stark blackness of the remainder of the palace. Shaiandral drew in her breath and banged the ivory hoop lanced through the dragon’s mouth against the door.

“Who is it?” A cautious female voice passed through the sable doors as if they weren’t there to block sound.

The Dragonlord’s palace has powerful magic. I should have assumed. Shaiandral swallowed, pushing away her trepidation. “It is the Healer Shaiandral of Clan Sharteka, coming as summoned.”

The woman on the other side did not answer. Shaiandral pursed her lips. All this way, and I’m not even welcomed? I won’t be taken for granted by my people’s sworn enemies. Hell, she wouldn’t even be here if not for her Healer’s Oath.

A human-sized door to the left swung open, and a wide-eyed blonde woman poked her head out. “Thank the Goddess. Come in.” She beckoned at Shaiandral.

The door slammed behind Shaiandral as she entered into the main hall of the palace. She couldn’t help gaping. None of her people had ever seen the Dragonlord’s palace, and certainly not her. Torchlight shone off the ebony walls, providing the only source of light in the hall. The ceiling stretched high above her head, and the perimeter was larger than her whole cottage. It could easily fit a dragon–or more than one.

“Goddess! You’re soaking wet!” The woman’s voice drew Shaiandral’s attention away from the hall. She didn’t sound concerned, but angry that Shaiandral had dared to drip on the precious stone floors.

“It doesn’t matter. I was summoned to heal the dying Dragonlord. Now, we can stand here and screw around over my wet clothes, if that’s what you want. Or you can take me to the Dragonlord, and I can do my best to heal him. It may be too late.” A prickle at the back of Shaiandral’s neck and a cold taste in her throat told her there wasn’t much time left–if any.

The woman tightened her jaw, and her blue eyes went ice cold, but she nodded curtly. “You’re right. This way.” She took a torch from the wall and began walking down the hall.

Shaiandral followed, her sopping leather sandals squishing against dark stone. She couldn’t help but gawk at the stark decoration. Black marble columns rose to the ceiling, and animal heads stared down from the walls between them. Rather than bronzed, they were set in ebony. That’s impossible … but then, the Dragons wield different magics than us. Sets of black eyes gazed down at her, almost as if they followed her movements. She shivered.

“That’s what happens to the Dragonlord’s enemies.” The blonde’s low voice cut through Shaiandral’s thoughts, and she snapped her head around to look at her.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She nodded at the heads. “They’re war trophies. And warnings to any that might dare oppose him.”

“Animals?” Shaiandral shook her head, and frowned, realization dawning. Goosebumps rose, chilling her body. “They’re not animals, are they? They’re shape shifters.”

“They are,” she said coldly, without looking at Shaiandral.

She stopped for a moment, startled, and stared at a jaguar head. Even in his jaguar form, she knew that face. Prince Caztli of Clan Sharteka. Her clan. Mindless rage pulsed through her mind, and her fingernails itched. Claws rumbled from beneath the surface of her skin.

Prince Caztli had disappeared on hunt one night. No one had found his body. He wasn’t a war trophy. He was a victim. Of what, Shaiandral didn’t know.

Her claws poked out. She shoved them back into their sheaths, reversing the shift. Calm. Balance. You’re here as Healer. Control yourself, damn it. No matter what he may have done, you’re a Healer, and you have your duty to perform. You can arrange his murder later, when you aren’t forced by your Oath.

Shaiandral’s mouth tightened as she followed the woman out of the hallway, through a short arched doorway into a corridor so narrow they had to go single file. Torchlight flickered, shining off sparkling garnets set in the ebony wall. The air felt heavy. It weighed down on her like a spectral force pressing from above. Dark tendrils floated in the air like whirlpools, sucking at the energy around them, pulling it within. Shaiandral tightened her shields and avoided the maelstrom energies.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and goosebumps rose on her skin. The deeper she went into the palace, the more she felt that something was wrong beyond anything she could sense. She hesitated to name it, but … evil tainted the palace. It swathed around her, trying to gain a hold on her aura as she followed the blonde woman through the corridor. Shaiandral stiffened and sent out a flash of white fire, surrounding her aura. The tendrils shrank back. They weren’t dangerous. Not yet.

“Here it is.” The woman’s voice startled her, and her othersight concentration broke. Her shields held; they didn’t need that level of focus to function.

The door opened, and dark light poured into the corridor. The blonde waved Shaiandral into the room. “These are the Dragonlord’s chambers. I leave you here with him to work your healing.”

Before Shaiandral could say anything, she shut the door behind her.

“Hey!” Shaiandral grabbed at the doorknob. A latch clicked on the other end. She snarled as she tried to open the door without success. “Bitch.”

No matter. You’re here for healing. Do the job. Then deal with the bitch. She spun around into the room. Crimson orbs of glowing fire levitated, shining eerie light onto a dark four-poster bed on a raised platform. A small ebony end table sat beside it, a wilting burgundy rose in a dark glass vase set on it. The rest of the room didn’t matter. Shaiandral lifted her small but strong hand to release the clasp at her throat. Her soaked cloak fell to the floor with a squish. Shaiandral’s right hand fell to her leather satchel with her medicines.

Drawing in her breath, Shaiandral stepped up the platform. Her knees wobbled with exhaustion, but she ignored that. She was a Healer. Sable silk curtains hung from the four-poster bed, shielding the Dragonlord from view. She pulled them back. Darkness reigned within the bed. Not only a lack of light, but an energy darkness, as well. Shaiandral glared at the crimson orbs.

“Why couldn’t you be white? That way I could see.” She growled under her breath.

The orbs flashed, showering crimson flecks, and radiated brilliant silver fire. They flew past Shaiandral to shine down onto the Dragonlord. She gaped, then shook her head. Magic. I really should get used to this …

She looked down at the Dragonlord. He lay under a black rabbit skin coverlet. Tezca, they really like their black, don’t they? Golden hair tumbled past his shoulders in waves of luxurious curls. He looked peacefully at rest.

At rest? Shaiandral frowned and reached for his throat to check his pulse. As her fingers brushed against the high silk collar of his pajama top, the Dragonlord jerked away, a snore choking in his throat. He coughed, his breath wheezing, and settled back into the thick feather pillows.

Pursing her lips, Shaiandral slowly drew back the coverlet, revealing his body, clad in ebon silk pajamas with onyx, jet, obsidian, and garnet stones embroidered into elaborate sigils. He looked completely healthy. His body wasn’t shrunken from any sort of disease, and his face and hands were unmarked. Unless it’s an internal illness?

Shaiandral chanted softly under her breath. Energy swirled around his body, and his aura glowed brilliant crimson–but plagued by sick yellow-green pustules. She narrowed her eyes, watching as the taint spread, eating away at the healthy aural tissue. This is a magical disease. But how…?

There wasn’t time for that. He was fading fast. If she didn’t act quickly, there would be no saving him. At the rate the disease was spreading, there’d be no way for her to counteract it with the magic she had immediately at hand. She would have to raise more. I might not be able to save him, even then.

But I haven’t come this far to give in now. I have to try. Shaiandral edged onto the bed and straddled his body, as necessary for the magic. She reached into her satchel and gripped her ceremonial dagger. Bringing the knife across the palm of her hand, she recited the proper chant to sanctify her blood for healing purposes.

A crimson drop fell onto the Dragonlord’s chest. Flame exploded as it soaked through and touched his skin. Shaiandral fell back against the soft featherbed with a yelp, her ceremonial knife flying out of her hand. “Gods!”

Time slowed. She tensed. A dark force prowled the room. She felt like she was being stalked. Or … Shaiandral yanked herself back to a sitting position. The blood drained from her face, and she gasped. Shadow energy, blacker than black, foamed from the Dragonlord’s body, gathering itself into a semi-corporeal form as it swirled above the body. Like smoke. Shaiandral’s eyes widened, and she scrambled backwards, trying to get away from whatever it was.

Slits appeared in the fog creature. Crimson eyes with onyx pupils narrow like a snake’s opened. The creature hovered over the Dragonlord’s body, now detached from him. Lips darker than jet formed, and smiled.

Shaiandral shook. She knew what it was now. A demon. What the hell am I going to do?

The demon’s mouth moved, forming words in a deep voice that echoed off the ebon walls of the Dragonlord’s chamber and reverberated within her soul. “Healer. You have come.”

Shit. “Yes–I…” She stammered, fear constricting around her heart. A demon had killed her teacher, the Priestess Alza, one of the most gifted Healers in the Clans. How can I fight it? Tezca, my patron, give me strength…

“You’re barely in time.” The demon frowned, making a tsk-ing sound in the back of his throat. “My host is dying.”

“Do you think I can’t feel it?” Shaiandral wracked her brain, trying to remember anything Alza had ever mentioned about demons. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been much. Damn. “I’m here to heal him.”

The demon began to swirl and change form again, growing arms and legs. Turning into some weird cloud adaptation of the human body. “Do your work.” Crimson eyes narrowed, and his voice brooked no argument.

She bit her lip and turned back to the Dragonlord, trying not to think about whom the demon was and why he was here–and how she’d get away afterwards. But that wasn’t important–she had a dying man to heal. Biting her lip, she took hold of the power rippling through her body and focused on using it to cleanse the tainted sickness from the Dragonlord’s body.

But her efforts were in vain. As hard as she tried, he still continued to fade. The disease fought back against her power. It isn’t enough. Deep down, she knew that no matter how much of her power she threw at it–it wouldn’t help. Whoever did this had far more power at his disposal than she. Sweat broke out along her face as he grew weaker, despite the massive amounts of energy she directed at the taint.

Swaths of blackness swarmed out from the demon in anger, stretching towards her. “Veren is dying.”

“I know!” Shaiandral snarled. “I don’t know what’s wrong! I’ve dealt with all manner of sicknesses before, but I’ve never encountered a magical toxin of this magnitude before! Yes, I’m losing him, and I don’t know how to stop it!”

The demon levitated over the Dragonlord’s–Veren’s?–body and stepped forward. A tendril of dark energy shot out from it, grasping for her. Shaiandral threw herself to the side, rolling towards the edge of the bed–but a strong, slimy tendril wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back. She cried out as she flew into the center of the bed.

Phantom weight crushed against her abdomen, and Shaiandral gagged as energy filthy as sewage piled on top of her. The demon glared down into her face. “You will heal him.”

“I can’t do it! I don’t have the power to fight it. Whoever did this wanted him dead.”

The demon looked even more displeased, and her skin crawled. There’s nothing more I can do for the Dragonlord. I have to get away from here. Or I’m going to become his next victim. Roaring, she spat in his face and fumbled for the defense knife at her hip. She yanked it from its sheath and brought it up into the demon’s back.

It passed through like it would a ghost. Her eyes widened, and the demon laughed. “You think you can harm me that way, shifter? I’m impervious to physical harm. Your puny weapons can’t touch me.” He closed his hand around her dagger and yanked it away with a grin, baring jagged obsidian teeth. “I can make my form corporeal at will.”

Shaiandral’s blood chilled. Shit. What the hell am I going to do? She didn’t know anything about dealing with demons. They were so rare, it wasn’t thought necessary to teach.

“Now.” He clutched her shirt collar, leaning forward, menace tendrils washing over her. “You will heal him. Or you will die.”

 

 

Chapter Two

 

“I told you, I can’t heal him.” Shaiandral bared teeth and snarled. “I’m not a fount of endless power! You want him healed, find someone who can do the job instead of bullying me!”

“You’re the most powerful healer in all the Clans. You can do it.” The demon’s jet eyes fell to her cleavage, and she shivered. His thoughts were plain in his eyes. He dipped a hand to caress her collarbone. She flinched away. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a shifter.”

“Yes, I’m powerful. But I’m afraid my greatness has been overly exaggerated. I can’t do the impossible, and I’m telling you, that’s what this is.”

The demon grinned and tightened his hands around her arms. “Are you a virgin?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Shaiandral realized the full implication of his words, and her gut clenched, sending waves of sick nausea through her. “You can’t be serious.” The expression on the demon’s face told her he was. Virgin’s blood was incredibly potent–add to that, the power from her sacrifice would give her enough juice to heal him. But if I do that, then I lose everything I am. She shook her head, emphatic enough to send her braid flying over her shoulder. “No. I am not doing it.”

He shrugged. “The dying man or me. Take your pick.”

He means it. Shaiandral shook with apprehension. She didn’t know which was worse–the thought of having sex with a demon, or with the Dragonlord who had murdered her cousin. Panic rose within her. I’m a sworn virgin. If I do this … then everything I have sacrificed will be for nothing. I will return home in disgrace.

But what choice did she have? None. I can’t fight my way out of this. I either sacrifice my virgin blood to heal the Dragonlord–or let the demon have me. Then a thought occurred to her. “What if I refuse? You could rape me–you could even kill me–but it won’t get your host healed. He’ll still die. And then where will you be?”

The demon ruffled gray fog hair and grinned, scarlet eyes twinkling with deep malice. “Inside you. In more ways than one.”

She froze. He’d possess me? Take me as his host?

He nodded, slow and deliberate, seeing the question in her eyes even though she hadn’t spoken aloud.

Shaiandral shivered as she turned back to the Dragonlord. Now her life rested on it, if it hadn’t before. Gods. Chills passed through her body as she gazed down on the Dragonlord’s barely breathing form. I don’t know how to do this. But I have to–or I’ll end up a living slave to that monster. Getting out of this alive is more important than protecting my sanctity.

“Should I take your inaction as acceptance of me?” The demon leaned forward and whispered the words into her ear, his breath hot and moist. It felt like maggots crawling over her cartilage and into her ear to wrap around her brain. She swallowed hard, forcing back her gorge. If she was going to have to screw Veren, she didn’t want her vomit all over his body. “It’ll take me a moment. I have to think about what I’m going to do.”

The demon raised an eyebrow. “It takes that much thought to decide how to fuck him?”

“It’s not like I’ve ever done it before.” Shaiandral tossed her hair. “Besides, what happens if I do something wrong? Virginity isn’t something you can re-grow like a fingernail.”

“I don’t know about that. I think some creatures can.”

“Well, I’m not one of them. Now, will you kindly leave me alone and let me do this?” I’ve had quite enough of this shit. She made an obscene gesture at the demon. He chuckled.

“Very well. If you need any help…” he trailed off, the offer blatantly obvious.

“I’ll figure it out on my own, thank you very much.” Shaiandral turned back to Veren and inhaled, trying to gather up her courage. He lay on satin crimson sheets, contrasting with the black silk pajamas he wore. She stood in the bed and stepped forward to straddle his body again. Her hands trembled as her fingers closed around small black obsidian buttons. She opened his shirt, and drew in her breath. Pale white skin glowed with a growing otherworldly energy. Death’s touch. Tezca. He’s even worse off than I thought.

Her whole body quivered. Could she do this? Would her sacrifice be powerful enough? Would it do what was needed? Would it heal Veren? Would her virgin blood be that potent and that powerful?

Or would she fail, and have her body and soul devoured by the demon?

Shaiandral pursed her lips. No. Failure is not an option, damn it. You are going to do this. And you will succeed. You’re Alza’s prodigy. You can do this. No matter how repulsive, no matter how difficult, you can and will do it.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

She snarled at the demon, losing her temper. “I told you. Be quiet if you want me to do this. You need me, if you want your host revived. This takes focus and concentration. Any magic of this magnitude does. Unless you’d rather I let him die, shut up and let me do my job.”

He rubbed his chin. “Maybe you would make a better host. You’re much more vivacious.”

“So you’d rather have a Healer without any influence at all in the world as host, rather than the King of Dragons? If you’d really prefer that, I suggest you have your head examined. It may have been injured from shock when Veren became infected.” Sarcasm rolled off her tongue. She wouldn’t have dared speak so frankly, but … He needs me. What’s he going to do, kill me? Not likely, when his place in the world depends on me.

“You do have a point.” The mass of black fog shaped as human settled on the bed. “Go on, then.”

Shaiandral returned to Veren’s body and finished opening the rest of his shirt, thinking hard. If she could weave the tantric energy raised from the sexual act with the blood and death magic that was present … but she wasn’t trained in any tantric practices. Alza had considered them immoral and had not taught them. But she knew a little, overheard from other healers and practitioners. It wasn’t the same as being trained, but it would have to suffice. There wasn’t anything else she could do.

Gods, I am insane. Drawing in her breath, she opened the buttons on his silken pajama bottoms and slipped them off. She swallowed, her eyes fixating on his cock, soft, nestled in a bed of golden curls. She’d seen naked men before, but never had she been this close to intimacy with one before.

“Do you need a step-by-step guide?”

“I think I can handle it,” Shaiandral said, sarcasm lining her voice. She leaned down, resting herself on the bed between Veren’s legs, and took his warm cock into her hand, squeezing lightly. Even though he was fading, his body responded to her touch, growing hard. Tentatively, she licked the underside of his shaft, tasting his musk, bringing him to full erection in her small, firm hand.

Now she could begin. Shaiandral closed her eyes. Build up energy first. You’re going to need it. She stretched down into the earth, feeling for the ley lines, grasping for energy. Her eyes flew open and she gasped as her energy field touched a pocket of pure, radiant power beneath the palace. They built it over a ley line. Damn. She wished she’d realized before. Normally, she used her own power, but if necessary, she could draw from other sources. I think this qualifies as “necessary”.

She reached out a tendril of energy from herself, and connected to the ley line. Controlling her breathing, taking slow, deep breaths, she drew power into herself, hot tingling energy, until she felt filled to the brim. Shaiandral opened her eyes. Her own aura shone iridescent with power, and she felt energized, strong, rather than exhausted.

His hard cock bore into her eyes, and she shuddered, despite the gnawing hunger between her legs. You have to do this. You don’t have a choice. Do it, or end up a slave to that demon for the rest of your life.

She steeled herself and tore her shirt off over her head. Her nipples tightened and rose as cold air caressed them, and she gasped as chills overtook her.

The demon wolf-whistled.

Shaiandral shot him a glare. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Maybe I don’t want to?” He waggled his eyebrows and stretched out his inhuman fog arm to tweak her nipple. A tightness constricted between her legs, despite the disgust she felt at his touch

“Go to hell.” She bared her teeth in a snarl.

“Will you come with me?”

“Only if I can kill you at the end.”

He chuckled and withdrew, gesturing to Veren. “Resume your healing.”

“Thank you.” Shaiandral rolled her eyes, sarcasm weighing down her voice. She slipped her sandals off her feet, and then stripped off her skirt, completely naked before Veren.

Gods, I’m going to fuck the Dragonlord. Her mind screamed that this was wrong, that she couldn’t do this, that she should find another way–but there was no other way. Not if she wanted to keep her own soul.

And my soul is far more precious to me than my virginity. I’ll get over it. I think. Shaiandral bit her lip. You have to do this. Now, before you lose your nerve.

She straddled Veren’s hips and positioned herself. Her breasts pressed against his feverish chest, and she fidgeted, squirming, trying to get him inside her. Damn. Shaiandral grabbed his cock and positioned it. The head pressed against her wet entrance, and a wave of nausea passed through her. She would lose everything. Do it.

Shaiandral closed her eyes and shoved herself onto his cock. Sharp pain ripped through her as her hymen tore, and she gasped as pleasure accompanied the pain. She breathed hard, sweating. Her face prickled with goose bumps, and her tongue went dry with–shame? You have no choice. Keep it up. The rite isn’t finished. You have to bring him back.

A wave of self-loathing passed through her. Stop it. You don’t have a choice. It’d be worse if you were fucking that demon. And once he had you–he’d have you for the rest of your life. Or longer.

“Well?” The demon broke through her concentration.

Furious rage pulsed through Shaiandral, nearly overwhelming her. Her words came out in a scream. “I’ve got this man’s cock up my cunt! Don’t you dare rush me!”

He shut his mouth.

She drew in a breath, trying to calm and steady herself. Power slipped from her, loosed with her anger. She yanked it back around her and closed her eyes. Sending out spurts of power at exactly the right times, Shaiandral intoned in a deep, low voice. Her ceremonial voice. The words reverberated across the chamber, echoing as if she’d spoken a thousand times louder. As she spoke, she drew her body back and forth, rubbing herself up and down Veren’s shaft.

His chest rose with a ragged, choking breath. The taint began to recede from his aura–slowly–but surely. Gods! I did it!

Shaiandral continued the rhythm, coming down on him. His breathing increased, and his body began to warm. His eyelids fluttered and opened. She stared down into brilliant blue eyes.

“Welcome back.” Her voice came out in a whisper between pants. Power built around and inside her, flowing as if through a conduit. I hope I can control it…

He lifted his hand to the side of her face and stroked her cheek. She shivered. His cock inside her wasn’t cold anymore, but hot. Veren tightened his hand and brought her face to his. He kissed her, warm lips pressing against her. She gasped as a wave of pleasure passed through her.

Returning his kiss, she let her mouth open to permit his entrance. His tongue flicked into her mouth and caressed hers. She moaned as Veren wrapped an arm around her and pressed her close to him. His cock pulsed inside her as she came down onto him, over and over, in a rhythmic movement, continuing to wield the power. Triumph and pride mixed with elation. I did it! I brought him back from the edge of death!

Warmth touched her back, and she froze, feeling that demon’s filth. His hands reached around to massage her breasts, tweaking her nipples.

He penetrated her ass before she could do anything. The demon’s head rested on her shoulder, and he whispered into her ear as he drove himself into her, with a slow rhythm matching hers against Veren. “I said I wanted you, shifter. And I have you.”

Power overwhelmed Shaiandral, intoxicating her. She didn’t care anymore. She threw her head back and laughed as three became one, feeling him massaging her breasts, kissing her throat. A hand reached between her legs and rubbed her clit, sending spasms through her. Veren nibbled up and down her face, making her body tingle with joy. Her muscles constricted around his cock, and she gasped, her eyelids fluttering as passion and pleasure tore her out of reality. Shaiandral’s control on her power slipped as her orgasm built.

Energy beyond anything she’d imagined flowed into her as the three of them reached orgasm. A scream tore out of her as her body jerked in pleasure. A stray thought came to her with the power as she writhed, unable to control her body, knowing without images what she must do–and how to do it. Bind the demon. Bind him now.

The demon’s cock was still in her ass. Grinning madly, she yanked his energy through her.

“What are you doing?” he roared in a voiceless scream, helpless to do anything.

Shaiandral didn’t answer. She pulled the demon into herself, riding the power, swirling him into a tiny ball of mass energy inside her body. When secured, she thrust the demon’s energy out of her, into the black rose on the nightstand, even though he struggled and protested. “By Tezca, I bind you, never to be released from that object though it turn to dust!”

The power left her. Shaiandral gasped as she looked down into the Dragonlord’s face. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. “You–he–the demon…”

“You’re free. He’ll never again control you.” Exhaustion overtook Shaiandral, claiming her body. Her eyes rolled back in her skull as she fell against Veren, plummeting towards unconsciousness.

He wrapped his strong arms around her. A whisper reached her, even in the depths of herself. “Thank you.”

 

 

Chapter Three

Shaiandral woke, mind fuzzy from sleep. She blinked, foggy, as she tried to remember where she was. A warm, strong, masculine body lay against her, his arm slung over her shoulders. What the hell? Her tongue went dry with fear as she jerked upright to a sitting position, scrambling away. She fell off the edge of the bed, her legs tangling in the covers. Her tailbone crashed against the hard floor, and she cried out.

“Are you all right?” A deep, smooth male voice filled with concern spoke. He looked over the side of the bed at her, eyes blue as the Syndican Ocean setting on her.

Shaiandral growled, narrowing her eyes. “I just woke up and I fell off the bed. What do you think?”

He laughed and stretched out a hand towards her. She took it, her small hand dwarfed by his, and he pulled her up onto the bed, next to him. Shaiandral glanced at his well-proportioned naked body and then at the deep red rose sitting in a vase on the nightstand. Memories of the previous night flowed back, and her eyes widened as she gasped. Gods–I wish it had been a dream.

“What is it?” Veren put a hand on her shoulder, sounding worried.

“I–oh, gods–I remember…” Shaiandral shivered, wrapping her arms over her breasts, suddenly freezing cold and trying to warm herself.

“Here.” He threw a blanket over her shoulders, and she pulled it close around her.

“Thanks.” She managed to flash him a grateful look.

“Now.” Veren spoke in a no-nonsense tone of voice, and Shaiandral looked back to him, trying not to think of how damn handsome he was. He’s Dragon. You’ve fulfilled your Oath–and broken it–and you are no longer bound to him in any way. “What were you doing in my palace?”

Shaiandral bared her teeth and snarled, rage overcoming her. How dare he question me when it is I who was summoned in the first place? When I sacrificed so much? “I saved your life last night, that’s what I did. Your demon didn’t give me much of a choice about it! I was a virgin, damn it. And I gave that up in order to save you.” Her hands curled into claws. “And this is the thanks I get? You summoned me!”

Veren’s hand clenched around her shoulder as his eyes smoldered with anger. “I never summoned you.”

“If you didn’t, who did?” She shoved him away roughly as anger flooded her body, accompanied by waves of … something else. Desire. She’d not felt that since she’d taken her Oath. Don’t touch me. I don’t know if I can control myself.

Of course I can control myself, she thought indignantly, her thoughts offending her. I’ve done so for years. I was the oldest non-sworn virgin in my tribe. I’m not some weak-minded youngling to be overcome by physical urges. Shaiandral’s eyes darted back up to Veren, who stared at her like a dragon waiting to pounce on a jaguar. “I received a summons in my village from the Dragonlord, demanding my expertise as healer because he–you–were dying.”

“Our people are sworn enemies!” Veren scoffed. “Why would I summon a Sharteka healer to aid me, when I could have a Dragon without inter-clan repercussions?” He swept his arm out in a gratuitous gesture.

“I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t want to risk your Dragon Healers screwing it up?” Sarcasm dripped off her voice. “After all, if you die, it’s hard to bring you back.”

Veren hesitated a moment, as if considering his words. “Still, you healed me. And you freed me from the demon’s grasp. I am … grateful to you.” He lowered his eyes, as if gratitude wasn’t something that came easily to him.

“You damn well better be grateful!” Shaiandral dug fingernails into her palms, forcing her eyes away from that handsome, sexy face, those soft, kissable lips that she wanted to devour into her own … “I gave up a lot for you.”

Veren sniffed. “You gave up your virginity. That may matter to the humans, but you’re not human. You’re Sharteka, a proud Jaguar. What does virginity matter to you?”

Shaiandral bristled and hissed. Waves of anger passing over her loosened her control on her form, and she began to shift. Claws formed out of her fingernails, but she forced them back. You can’t lose control like this. Not now. She fought to restrain her temper and explain her situation to the obviously uninformed Dragonlord. “Virgin blood carries great strength. The most powerful healers in my clan are virginal. I am–was–a Healer, a Priestess of Tezca, ready to continue on to higher training.”

Her eyes narrowed with anger, at him and at herself, though she’d had no choice and he’d been possessed. That gods-damned demon stole my life from me, she thought, heart raging with absolute fury. What’s done is done, and there is no way to get it back. “I could have been a Master Healer. My teacher thought I had the potential to become one of the greatest Healers ever. And now that … that is lost to me.”

Tears choked in her throat, and she tightened her fists. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t show weakness in front of a Dragon. I must be strong. I am Sharteka. I will be strong.

“I’m–sorry. I didn’t know.” Veren had the decency to look chagrined. Does he really feel that way or is it just an act? “Our healers are under no such restrictions. Many Dragon healers are tantric practitioners”

She pursed her lips and stared at the dying rose, watching its petals fall to the sleek ebony nightstand. Her body pulsed with an intense hunger she’d never before felt, literal physical hunger pounding in her belly, but also sexual, throbbing between her legs, flowing through her veins to every part of her body. She tingled with desire. She wanted him.

What is wrong with me? Fear and confusion accompanied her lust. I’ve felt desire before, but … never like this? What’s happening to me?

Veren’s hand settled on her shoulder again. She snarled and jumped to her feet, throwing the blanket aside. “Don’t touch me!”

A wave of dizziness passed over her, and she stumbled, suddenly weak. Veren caught her and pulled her onto the bed, her back settling against the soft fur comforter. He looked down at her, concerned. Gods, she wanted to fuck him again, long and hard and passionate, their bodies pounding against each other until they screamed with mindless exuberant joy…

“Are you all right?” He touched her cheek, and she shivered. That voice. Just his voice alone sent electric shocks through her skin. She wanted him so bad. Golden blonde curls hung around his face as he bent over her. “Healer?”

Too much. Just too much. She couldn’t fight it anymore. Resistance gave way to lust. Her hands shook as she lifted them to the sides of his face and stroked, her fingertips tingling as she touched him.

“What…” Veren’s eyes betrayed his surprise.

Shaiandral growled and pulled him down on top of her, kissing him, her lips nibbling against his. Strong, gentle hands cradled her chin and cheeks as warm lips strayed from her mouth to kiss her nose and cheeks and then each eyelid.

Moans escaped her, stretching out of her throat. She could feel Veren against her, hard and muscled. His musky scent intoxicated her as his lips roamed over her face. Her fingers tangled in his curly hair.

Warm wet circles drawn with his smooth-as-silk tongue sent shivers through her, and she threw back her head against the soft featherbed, reveling in the sensations rippling through her body. Veren licked down the side of her face to her neck, where he sucked her soft flesh. A groan passed between her lips. She felt like she was on fire, everywhere at once.

Shaiandral wanted him, and she wanted him in her. His licking, his touch … his hands roamed over her whole body, down her chest, massaging her breasts … he drove her mad between her legs.

“Veren.” She spoke his name with as much calm as she could muster, between her gasps. “Veren.“

He stopped and gazed into her eyes, serious. “What is it?”

“I–I want you.” Shaiandral stumbled over the words, her face burning red with–either embarrassment or arousal. She couldn’t tell which. Or both.

Veren quirked his lips, giving her a sardonic lopsided grin. “That much is obvious.” He tweaked a nipple, hard, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure roared from her nipple to her genitals, and she arched against him, overcome by his ministrations.

Solid hot flesh pressed into her abdomen. He was straddling her, and his erection about drove her insane with desire. She reached down and took his cock between her hands. Squeezing, she rubbed up and down in a slow, massaging movement. Veren’s eyes rolled back in his head as he closed them, and he groaned, hands tightening around her breasts, kneading them, thumbs teasing their nipples. It was almost too much to bear.

“Veren–I–I need you…” She gasped out the words as she writhed under him, her body feeling like it was going to implode with pleasure.

He kissed her and began to reposition himself, her fingertips caressing his cock as he drew away. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his hips as Veren deepened the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth. She threw her arms around him, fingers tangling in his hair.

Veren penetrated her, his cock driving deep within, slow, controlling his thrusts. Arching her back, she tightened her legs around him, driving him into her and moving her own body upwards to meet him. Her muscles constricted around his cock, tightening and relaxing. He groaned with pleasure, breathing hard against her cheek. She growled in low guttural moans as he drove into her, in and out, again and again in a pounding rhythm.

Thrill tingled through her, and she screamed with each thrust, pleasure building on itself, pulsing between her legs, deep inside her body, spreading outwards until she felt like her whole body throbbed with that same pleasure.

She exploded, screaming, ripping claws across Veren’s back as he buried himself in her one last time. She breathed hard as her body spasmed with joy. He came, spurting within her, and withdrew, collapsing upon her.

They rested together, Veren laying on Shaiandral. She held her arms around him and smiled. This is wrong … but it feels so right. How can this be? What has happened?

As the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction faded, hunger rose again in her belly. Not sexual this time, but hunger for blood, meat, the chase, the kill…

Veren rose enough to meet her eyes. “You feel it too.”

“Feel what?” She blinked, confused.

“The hunger. Wild, pulsing through your veins, hunger for food … you need to eat. After raising me, after this … you need to replenish yourself.” Veren rolled off her and sat up. “And I need to as well.”

She sat upright and watched him, his sleek muscled body, her body quavering from hunger pangs. “Are you going to have food brought to us?”

Veren looked at her, horrified. “Already dead meat? Never. No. You and I will hunt. Together.”

Shaiandral licked her lips. The thought of hunting prey, taking down her kill, ripping out its throat and drinking sweet hot blood, filled her with excitement. She stood and grabbed her clothes off the bed. “Then let’s hunt.”

Posted by Nonny under Uncategorized