Claiming the Dragon King

  “I’m going to fucking slaughter you,” she hissed vehemently. “You think my brother is a monster? I will make him look like his fiancée’s stupid Easter Bunny!”

  “Easter Bunny?” he asked, a brow lifting in question. Her heart ached, her body ached. In fact, there wasn’t a single inch of her that didn’t hurt. Her muscles had tensed to the point they wouldn’t release with what he’d allowed to happen to her.

  “Go to hell,” she replied carefully.

  “You feed from coming, right? Or is it when your partner finds release?” he asked, changing the subject so quickly that it took her a moment to process his switch. Her head shook. He stood, dropping the cloth into the bucket as he removed his shirt and tossed it aside.

  The sweat that beaded on Ciara’s brow formed at her nape, slowly trailing down her back and the heat became overwhelming in the tight space. Her body trembled, and she growled from deep in her chest as she smiled at him.

  “Come here, I’ll show you how I feed, dragon whelp,” she taunted, watching as his eyes darkened. “On second thought, you might need help. I doubt you are man enough to soothe this ache or feed me at all.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, slowly unbuttoning his pants as he glared at her from across the room. His hips caught her eyes, making her lids grow heavy as he bared his thick cock to her greedy gaze. She ripped it from his body and pretended that the tent’s painted wall was more interesting than his naked flesh. Why couldn’t she be kidnapped by an ugly guy with horns or something? Nope, not her, she had to be taken by some hot ass dragon shifter with voodoo lips that she craved to taste again. “I’ve heard you enjoy…large meals? Is that what you call them? Tell me, how many can you take at once?”

  She glared at him as her mouth opened and closed. “As many as I want to,” she replied with ice lacing her words.

  His eyes darkened, and he pushed his fingers through his hair, shoving it away from his forehead. “So the rumors are true then?”

  “I don’t know what the rumors are since they’re about me. I tend to ignore gossip, and so should you. You can believe what you want; it matters little to me either way.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that rumors say you’re very…giving with your body?”

  “I’m Fae, we fuck to eat,” she responded aloofly. She tried to shrug, but the ropes prevented it.

  She watched him as he moved to where she stood, slowly releasing her arms and legs before he slowly pushed her towards the bed. He had tattoos; unlike the brands of the Fae, he’d chosen to wear them. Dragons in flight covered his back, while words written in a language she didn’t understand were tattooed on his ribcage. Her knees hit the bed, and she plopped down on her ass. Before she could scoot across it, he knelt between her legs.

  “It’s not the sexual completion you need, it’s just emotions. That means when you fuck, you do it because you want to. You prefer humans because they tend to be emotionally fucked, always going crazy over the slightest thing. You see, Ciara, I’ve studied your kind a lot to know how to bring the Fae to their knees. You don’t need a release to feed, you need my release. My emotions are what you consume. You’re a fucking parasite that feeds off others who are weaker than you are.”

  “Touché,” she said as she felt his hands slowly parting her thighs. “I’m not fucking you.”

  “I must have missed where I asked for your permission, princess,” he mused as he lowered his dark head and kissed the inside of her thigh. She sucked in air greedily as her core tightened. “You smell good enough to…eat,” he chuckled as he stared up at her with hooded lids.

  “Don’t do this, Blane. You don’t want me,” she whispered.

  “No, I don’t want you. I don’t even like you but even animals who hate each other fuck in Faery, and we’re no different, are we? You’re not the top of the food chain here, I am. You’re just currently on my menu for things I want to eat.”

  “Animals mate to conceive,” she growled. “I’m not having any lizard babies with you,” she huffed haughtily.

  “Do you know why your father attacked my kind?” he asked as he shoved her down and let his mouth hover over her pussy. “Because we can breed you out and he knew it. He feared it, feared us. Dragons are the only creature in Faery strong enough to stand against you and your caste,” he growled before his tongue slid through her folds, and she jerked as pleasure tore through her entire body.

  “Stop,” she whimpered even though her hands had moved to his hair, pushing him closer, holding him there. His tongue pushed into her depths, and she dropped her head against the soft pile of furs, riding him as his nose touched her clitoris. Max had never made her feel this, this white-hot pleasure that threatened to destroy her. His fingers replaced his tongue, and light burst behind her eyes, a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors blinding her. He guided them in and out of her tight flesh, turning them as he watched her body react to what he did. Her core tightened around him, needing him to continue what he was doing.

  Throaty laughter pulled her back from the brilliant heights to which she’d soared, prematurely cutting the absolute pleasure off abruptly. Her body buzzed with excitement. Her pussy ached for more, as his heated breath fanned her silken flesh.

  “You make the most exquisite noises considering you don’t want me or my mouth fucking your pretty pink flesh,” he growled huskily. “You are ready for me, aren’t you? You want to feed, and badly. I can see it in your flesh, the pallor color of your complexion. Your eyes are dulling, and you’re growing slower with your naughty little comebacks. Tell me, Ciara, do you need my cock to feed?” he purred gutturally.

  “I…I…fuck you, dragon,” she growled as she tried to pull away from him, only for him to pull her closer to the edge. His cock pressed against her sex, pulsing with need. Her release was still there, giving him just enough wetness to run it through her petals.

  Her body was ablaze with need, a need so raw and explosive that she wasn’t sure how to turn it off. She wasn’t immune to what he was doing. It didn’t matter if she liked him or not, she needed him. She needed this. Her brands started to glow, bathing the tent in her inner light. Her eyes would match, not that he’d notice with where his eyes were locked on.

  Her own followed his, watching as his cock pushed against her clitoris as it slid through her folds. It was just enough pressure that she felt it to her bones.

  His dark head lifted as he stared into her glowing gaze. She knew her eyes glowed from within, she could feel herself taking from him, from his pleasure. His rage, his emotions, the pleasure she returned as he used her body to find his release, it was a buffet of emotions. His hands pulled her closer, capturing her lips against his as their breathing intensified.

  His mouth brokered no argument. It fucked her more than he ever could as it claimed her. His tongue delved deeper, dominating hers in an ageless dance as his body used hers. Here and now, they weren’t enemies. They were driven by a primal need, one larger than either one of them understood. Ciara’s pain faded away, her worries melted as the orgasm burned brighter through her, and when it exploded, he captured her cries in his mouth.

  His cock continued to slide against her slick flesh, hitting her perfectly as he ground his need against hers. The noises inside the tent were flesh meeting flesh; their combined moans as their bodies did what the Gods intended them to do. He pulled her hair, wrenching her away from his mouth as he watched the fire burning in her eyes. Her brands pulsed, shining violet and silver as they slithered across her flesh. She watched as he stiffened, grunted and then leaned against her body as he struggled to calm his breathing.

  That was it? That was sex? That wasn’t so bad, she mused. She’d fed, not much, but then she’d also been afraid to. When Max fed her, it wasn’t messy. She didn’t see the emotions, but with Blane, she could see them in his eyes, burning hatred and worse, he hated that he’d wanted he
r. He was messy, too much work. Too much shit to wade through.

  Max also didn’t leave her stomach covered in stuff.

  “What the hell?” she asked, staring down at her belly. “Why did you do that to me?”

  Blane blinked at her as he pulled away and looked at where he’d found his release on her flesh. His brow lifted as he considered what to say and then shook his head.

  “Get it off of me,” she snapped.

  “Get it off yourself,” he growled as he stood, uncaring that his cock was already hard again for his enemy.

  “It’s your mess,” she pointed out.

  “It’s on you,” he chuckled. “It’s your mess now.”

  “Gods, men are disgusting,” she hissed as she moved to retrieve his shirt and wiped it from her flesh.

  “That’s my shirt,” he snapped.

  “Well, now your shirt has your mess on it, and it’s not on me anymore.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him in open challenge.

  “Get in bed, Ciara, before I make another mess, this time someplace you won’t complain about it.”

  “Dragon whelp, you can keep your messy stuff to yourself,” she chided. “I don’t want it.”

  “When you glow,” he said, changing the conversation, “you’re using power.”

  “No, I’m taking power,” she pointed out crossly. “I didn’t feed enough to cast, so if that was your intention, consider your mission failed. You can do what you want with me, Blane. You can’t force me to help you. Remember that. I get that what my father did to you and your people were horrible, but that wasn’t us.”

  “I watched your brothers slaughter my people,” he seethed. “Not your father.”

  She flinched. “You don’t know why they did it, though.”

  “I don’t care why they did it, only that they did. They have to pay for it, and they will.”

  “Whatever,” she said, slumping as his anger filled the tent. “Can I sleep now, or do I need to stand at the post?” she asked, nodding her head in that direction.

  “There’s a freeze coming, tonight you sleep with me,” he said softly as he took in her defeated posture. “How old were you when my people were slaughtered?”

  “Me? Not old enough to wield a blade, nor barely old enough to use magic. I was a child, same as you were if you merely watched it happen.”

  He dug through his trunk which sat at the end of his bed and tossed her a slip which she caught. She stared at it. “I came in clothes, you know. I didn’t just show up to fight you naked.”

  “It was my sister’s,” he growled. “It’s more for me, to remind me of who you are. Lest I forget and grow attached.”

  “As if; you couldn’t forget me or who I am even if the dead rose and returned to you,” she growled as she slipped the gown on and moved towards the bed. “And, Blane, for the record, you suck at sex.”

  “Is that a challenge?” he asked as his eyes heated and he smirked in her direction. “What do you mean I suck at it?”

  “No, it was a statement. You didn’t even do it right.”

  His mouth opened and closed as he stared at her. She shrugged and crawled beneath the furs, wondering what he’d killed to get it. It was soft, so soft and yet it had been something at one time, and he’d murdered it! Yet they were the barbarians? They didn’t sleep in furs. They were domesticated and shit, with blankets!

  “Ciara,” he murmured as he stared at her. “How many lovers have you had?”

  “Enough,” she exclaimed softly as she crossed her arms and glared at him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Before dawn had broken, Ciara had been placed at the poles. Blane had woken her up in the middle of the night after a nightmare, and set her there, leaving her as he’d gone back to sleep. Her legs burned, and she wondered if it had been his dream that had forced him to remove her from the bed, or if it was something else.

  “Hey, get up and seize the day,” she shouted, shocking herself.

  Blane’s brow lifted as he rolled over and looked at her. He rested his head against the pillow and took her in, and she frowned, looking down at the dress now that she could make out the fine details. It was ripped, torn and covered in ashes. Her hair was matted from what they’d done last night and blush filled her cheeks.

  “Blushing from the Horde Princess?” he taunted. Ciara’s face heated as the reminder of last night and how delicious he had been entered her mind. “You have nothing to fear from me, Ciara. I don’t force myself upon unwilling women as your kind is known for doing. I don’t slaughter the innocent. No, you needn’t ever fear that I’d lower myself to fucking you, no matter how much I’d enjoy this beautiful flesh.” He swallowed hard as his eyes slowly slid down her body.

  He had switched tactics, of that she was sure. She flinched at his reminder of what her people had done to them. He was reminding himself of who she was because last night they’d forgotten. However briefly, they’d forgotten to hate each other.

  “Do what you will to me, Blane, but I will never be used to lure my brothers here to their deaths. You forget, I am Horde,” she hissed as her eyes slowly moved from his face to his other features with a hungry look. “You’ll have to feed me sooner or later, or watch me wither away. I need to feed regularly, and I’m ravenous. Tell me, dragon, which will it be? Watch me wither and lose your only tool for revenge, or feed me?” she taunted in a throaty tone that left little to wonder what her game was: seduction.

  She wiggled her hips and winced as the chain bit into her flesh, cutting into it. Blane winced and watched her. She watched him moving out of the tent buck ass naked and finally let her false bravado fall. She lifted her head, searching the tent for the disturbance in power. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she swallowed. No, they couldn’t be here; the wards were still in place.

  “Ciara,” Synthia’s voice whispered beside her ear.

  “Syn?” she called out, almost relieved to have a friendly face close to her. But what would that mean? A head-on war for Blane; did she care? Should she care? No, absolutely not, and yet they were dragons. This was a chance to fix the past, and she had to take it. Plus, she was a fucking trap. So there was that to consider.

  “Quiet or the guards will hear you,” she hissed. “Are you hurt?” she murmured softly, and when Ciara shook her head, Synthia released the breath she’d been holding which fanned across Ciara’s cheek. “Dragons, who knew?”

  She watched as Synthia materialized, unaffected by the wards. Relief flooded through her, as she exhaled softly. She knelt down, examining the chain before she frowned and sighed heavily as she realized what she was: A trap.

  “My brothers?” Ciara asked softly.

  “Going crazy looking for you,” she said as she continued to glare at the chain.

  “They can’t find me here, Syn,” she blurted. Ciara winced as the chain bit into her flesh again. She glared down at it, wondering if it sensed Synthia. “It’s a trap, and the moment anyone from the Horde enters, they won’t be able to escape. The entire camp is rigged to capture them should they try to sneak in.” She’d felt them as she had been pushed past the wards; thick, powerful ones that were meant to hold her inside the camp.

  “I know; I’m aware of the wards and this…” she paused and waved at the tent in general. Her platinum head tilted, and she listened.

  “You need to go, now,” Ciara hissed as she heard the approaching footsteps too.

  The flap of the tent was thrown open, and Blane strode in, still naked and holding a pail of water that he placed at Ciara’s feet. He watched her speculatively for a few moments. He slowly slipped into his pants, giving Ciara his back before slowly turning to face her again.

  “Talking to yourself?” he mocked, his fingers slowly trailing over her breasts as he watched her body react. Ciara’s body re
sponded without hesitation, uncaring that Synthia was watching. Her back arched into his caress, her eyelids grew heavy, and she bit her lip to prevent any sound from escaping as desire mingled with the need to feed.

  “I don’t talk to myself, I talk to Gods,” she sneered and kicked the bucket over, sending suds over the tarp that covered the ground beneath her feet.

  “That was stupid,” he growled, and two of the guards opened the flap to see what the disturbance had been about. Their swords were drawn, ready to cut Ciara to ribbons if she’d escaped, which caused her to shrink back a little. “You could just use glamour, and then you wouldn’t stink or need me to wash your flesh, woman.”

  Ciara swallowed hard as Blane lowered his lips to hers, grazing them as a moan escaped past hers. The temperature in the tent grew, creating a subtle sheen of sweat at Ciara’s neck and between her breasts. She smiled, realizing that he wasn’t playing his little game very well at all.

  “Feed me or free me,” she murmured against his lips as hunger tore through her. She should have taken more last night, should have drained him. “One or the other, dragon—or kill me, and send my remains to my brother. You’ll have to choose soon, because time isn’t something I have.” She knew Synthia was listening, and she couldn’t afford for her to run back and tell her brothers that she’d allowed a man to do more than kiss her. She was a forbidden, forbidden to be touched, to be kissed; a whole lot of banned shit had been laid on her. Of course, having the brothers she had, no one was so willing to tempt fate for her either.

  “You think I’d fall for your shit?” he snapped coldly as he backed away from her, glaring murderously at her. “Seductress of the Horde, do you feed on many men? Part these thighs for any cock willing to feed you?”

  Ciara tossed back her head and laughed at his words, at the anger that filled them, but most of all, at the possessive note that caught on his words.