Madfall

  Blind panic pushed Einin to run, but Draknart held her in place. “I will bring you another, Belinus. I swear to you.”

  “On your dragon’s honor?” The god chuckled darkly, the sound edged with danger, sharp, sharp edges that could slice a sword in half. “Einin of Downwood, step forward.”

  She had no choice in the matter at all. She felt the words inside her. Her legs simply moved, until she stood halfway between Draknart and the god. Draknart struggled to rise without success, as if held in place by an otherworldly power, an invisible hand pressing him to the ground.

  Einin could see him only from the corner of her eye. She kept her gaze cast down. She didn’t dare to look at the god’s terrifyingly beautiful countenance.

  “Isn’t she a sweet one?” Belinus’s voice slithered along her skin, and she felt that terrifying pull again.

  She could not stop her feet, but she reached for her sword as she passed by it and raised the blade in front of her. She grunted in frustration when her arms would move only halfway up and not higher. Anger bubbled deep inside her, up through the swamp of fear in her stomach.

  Draknart had at least fought her, allowed her the chance to save herself.

  She gripped the hilt of her sword with both hands and groaned with the effort to move the weapon, just as a new, darkly and dangerously feminine voice joined the conversation.

  “She does not appear ready to fall into your arms, Belinus,” the voice said, the tone mocking in the way a quick rapier mocked the opponent in a duel. The sly mockery gave the impression that the one wielding the weapon knew where to strike.

  The clearing brightened still more. Einin didn’t look directly at the second pillar of light that moved forward from the stone circle. She felt an added electric charge in the air and a tingle on her skin as the soft little hairs stood up on her arms.

  She didn’t have time to consider what to do next. She dropped to her knees, smitten by an invisible fist, and she knew this move had been the goddess’s will. Einin raised her gaze, but not so far that she would be blinded by the brightness, only enough to see the edges of the vaguely human-shaped columns of light, so that she might see death coming.

  “You seem to be losing your touch with the maidens, my god husband. I don’t remember any of them drawing a sword on you before.” The goddess glided past Belinus, turning her attention to Draknart.

  “You’ve come to cause trouble, dragon?” Her voice had the deep cold of midwinter nights. “Did I not humble you enough by turning you into a halfling?”

  “You did, goddess,” Draknart said through gritted teeth.

  “You sought to lift the curse by going behind my back?” The rapier-sharp tone stabbed.

  “Forgive me, goddess. And if you can’t, at least forgive the wee maiden, I beg you. ’Twas all my doing. She had no knowledge of why I brought her here. She doesn’t deserve your wrath.”

  If Einin had not already been aware of how deadly the danger was that surrounded them, she would have known then. Never had she thought she would hear Draknart sound this subdued. Even more bewildering was her realization that he humbled himself not to protect his own life but hers.

  The goddess didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood.

  “I decide what you both deserve,” she snapped, and another wave of cold chill filled the clearing, full of dark threat. “A very foolish dragon. Had you brought her over the threshold into Feyland, you would be right now wriggling by my feet as an earthworm.”

  Einin lost the ability to breathe. Not until this very moment did she realize that death might not yet be the worst fate that could await them.

  Chapter Nine

  Draknart could not take his gaze off the goddess, for the goddess would not release him. But from the corner of his eye, he saw Einin on her feet again, taking one stumbling step after the other toward Belinus as the god drew her.

  “Your gift pleases me, dragon,” the god said.

  Draknart struggled to move, muscles popping, sweat pouring down his body, but he was as weak as a pup in his human form.

  “No!” he roared. “She’s not to be taken!”

  The swirling column of light that was the goddess suddenly stilled. The great pressure that held Draknart to the ground eased. Not enough for him to get up, but enough so he could breathe easier.

  “You’d be willing to face a god’s displeasure for her?” The goddess’s sharp tone was tempered by fascination. “You claim her as yours?”

  “She is her own,” Draknart growled the words, baring his teeth.

  The goddess laughed. “Dragon, are you in love?” The column of light bent at the top as she gave him a closer look. “You angered me for many years. Centuries. Now I suddenly find you amusing. Never before have I been surprised by one of your kind. Maybe all of you are not as dreadfully predictable as I thought.”

  He bowed his head deep, nearly to the ground. “I beg you, goddess, do with me as you wish, only save Einin from Belinus.”

  A gale of laughter filled the clearing. “You are in love. How delightful.” She considered him for a long moment. “Let us make a bargain.”

  “Aye.” He would agree to anything as long as Belinus didn’t take Einin into Feyland with him.

  “You accept my curse. You will remain a halfling until your death. Neither in man’s world, nor in dragon’s, reviled and hunted by all. A permanent curse, willingly taken, that cannot ever be lifted.”

  Every cell of his body protested, everything that he was and had ever been screamed No! inside him.

  Cursed forever. Gods, but forever was a long time for a dragon. He could live another thousand years or more. Cursed. The thought made him want to rage, made him want to hurl himself from the nearest tall cliff.

  “Aye,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Long after the human woman is dead and gone, you will be halfling still. For centuries and centuries, until one of your kind finds you when you’re weak and devours you for breakfast.”

  “Aye.”

  “This woman might not want you. She’s filled with anger now. She might leave you as soon as Belinus releases her. But you will still remain a halfling forever.”

  “Aye.”

  The pillar of light that was the goddess drew back. “You surprise me, dragon.” Her stillness dissolved into movement, a swirling column of white. “So be it.”

  Her next words echoed in his head, and he knew she spoke them to him alone. Nobody else could hear them.

  “I curse you anew, yet balance must be kept, so I will bless her. For each day she willingly stays with you, a day will be added to her short human life. But she must never learn about this blessing. She must stay with you for love, not to extend the number of her days. Should she ever find out, my blessing will end.”

  “Aye.”

  For a single moment, the air shimmered and Draknart could not draw a breath. Then the terrible wave of disorientation passed, and the goddess’s attention turned to the god. Power pulsed from her in waves, the air becoming heavy and potent.

  “Jealous, my love?” the god teased.

  The goddess expanded. “Enough to burn the world.”

  This time, the deep chuckle that came from the god sounded pleased. He shone brighter. His boundaries grew and grew, until Draknart could no longer look at either one of them. He only sensed them moving toward each other. When they touched, the explosion of energy knocked him on his back. The hold on him was released.

  Pure divine power blew through the clearing like a storm.

  Draknart crawled to Einin, head down, as if fighting strong headwinds. He was unable to stand. She lay still on the ground, pale but breathing. The god’s attention and then the explosion of power had overwhelmed her human body.

  The storm raged hard, then harder, until she was in danger of being blown away. Draknart clawed at the earth, wishing for his talons, holding on to clumps of grass as he moved forward. Then he reached her at last and sheltered her in his arms as he carried her
behind the giant rock formation, this time the storm and the wind at his back, helping him move away from the gods whose light and energy swirled, threatening to erupt.

  Draknart hurled himself into an indentation in the rock, barely a cave, so small that his dragon body would have filled it to the brim. But as he hid Einin in the most sheltered corner, putting his own body between her and danger, he found more room ahead, then more and more as the cave seemed to expand—either the god or the goddess giving them room to survive.

  He kept going with gratitude in his heart, all the way to the very back of the cave, into darkness.

  Einin revived and startled, struggled in his arms. As she had no dragon vision, she probably saw nothing.

  “It is I, Draknart. I have you, sweeting.” He had to raise his voice. ’Twas loud as an ocean storm out there. Draknart thought they were unlikely to find a single tree standing if they were lucky enough to ever leave the cave alive.

  “Have I been struck blind?”

  The panic in her voice made him hold her tighter. “We are in the dark of the cave.”

  She settled against his chest, as if the clash with the angry deities had exhausted her near unto death. “And the gods?”

  He did not set Einin down but cradled her as he turned so she’d be next to the rock wall while he stood between her and the cave’s opening, shielding her with his body. “The gods are mating.”

  “It seems very terrible.”

  “’Tis not meant to be witnessed by lesser beings.” Which worried him more than anything else at this stage.

  The appearance of the cave meant that either the god or the goddess meant to shelter them. But the threat that their protector would forget about them in the height of passion was real. And then what? Would Draknart and Einin be sealed inside the rock?

  Yet the cave was their best chance for survival. Going outside was certain suicide.

  Draknart loosened his arms around Einin as she wriggled to slip her feet to the ground. He was prepared to let her go, but she put her arms around his waist and held on tight.

  She lay her head on his chest as she shouted toward his ear, “Can we survive?”

  Had he his great dragon body, Draknart likely could have protected her. He could have flown her out of here even against the gale that raged outside. But as a weak human… Frustration burned his insides.

  When he didn’t respond, Einin clung to him tighter. “Will we die?”

  He told her the truth. “Aye. We might.”

  Before he could say more, a wave of pure lust hit them. Einin gasped, dropping to her knees before Draknart could catch her, his own arms loosened.

  “What…” Her expression turned confused, her gaze filling with desperation.

  He reached for her to pull her up, but then he ended up lowering himself onto the ground next to her. Best to save his strength to fight what was to come.

  The urge to rip off her clothes and mate with her was sudden and overpowering. A ferocious growl escaped him, his hands curled into fists, his breathing labored as he leaned toward her, unable to resist.

  “Pull your sword,” his ragged tone was filled with primal need. Never had he felt more like a wild animal than at this moment. “Fight me off.”

  She stared at him with lust-glazed eyes. A brief flicker of recognition at the bottom of her gaze said that, for a moment, she grasped what was happening. But she was as powerless as he. With a soft cry, she threw herself into his arms.

  His mouth took hers in a rough kiss. She let him in, but if she hadn’t, he might have used his tongue to force her already swollen lips to part. Nothing existed but his need for her, his urgent need to be inside her tight, wet heat.

  He ripped her clothes away without stopping the savage kiss, and she clawed his naked back, not in protest but to urge him to hurry.

  She is a virgin. Untouched. She will hurt.

  The thoughts had no substance in his brain. They were like the mist over the meadows at dawn, there one moment, disappearing the next. He was so filled with lust, no room remained for logical thought, or good intentions.

  He pushed her down onto the dirt floor of the cave and settled himself between her legs. Her slim thighs immediately wrapped around his waist, her small but strong hands kneading his chest, then sliding down his rib cage.

  “Slow down!” He didn’t know which one of them he was ordering.

  Neither of them obeyed.

  His swollen, throbbing hardness was poised at her opening, touching the wet entrance as she squirmed under him. He found the strength to hold still.

  “No.” His hand tightened on her shoulder, and he gently shook her. “Einin, sweeting. I want you more than I want to live, but we should wait.” The words hurt coming up his throat, as if they were carpentry nails.

  “Draknart, I need… I need so much…”

  “I know, sweeting.” He wasn’t going to move. Not if staying still killed him. “Think of something else.”

  “I’ve seen you naked more than I’ve seen you with your clothes on.”

  “Not that.”

  “You look different from the men in the village. When I look at them, I feel nothing. When I look at you, I feel warmth filling my belly, and lower.”

  He groaned. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I thought about it. I planned it even.”

  “Good. Think about that.”

  “I don’t want to kill you right now.”

  “Maybe you should. Where is that damned sword?”

  “I want to touch you.”

  His arms trembled. “You’re touching me.”

  “I want you to touch me.”

  “It’s a bad idea.”

  “I want you to touch me everywhere.”

  “Not like this.”

  “You tasted me before. You can taste me again, if you wish.”

  “If I wish?” He gave a strangled laugh. “Never mind. Mayhap it’s better if we don’t talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk. I want you to take me like a man takes a woman.”

  “Eini—”

  She cut him off with a desperate cry as she surged up under him and impaled herself on his straining manhood. “Please.”

  Her second cry was a cry of surprise at the pain, her tight channel struggling to take him. She clung to him, his large shaft only half inside her.

  She squirmed. And he swore when he realized that she squirmed not to get away but to take him deeper.

  “Yes. Please. More,” she begged.

  Sweat beaded on his brows. His voice was a broken whisper. “Einin. Sweeting. Stop. It’s not too late.”

  His arms shook. He’d never done a more difficult thing in all his dragon life than holding still just then. She was so incredibly tight around him, her face so intent, her gaze burning into his. Her body moving, moving, moving.

  “Einin!”

  The power of the gods’ lust outside crested then ebbed. Draknart shifted his body to move away.

  Einin held on to his shoulders, her eyes clear. “Don’t go.”

  He stilled. “Einin?”

  “Stay.”

  “You don’t want this,” he warned her.

  Choice was important to her. She wanted to decide her own fate. Not only did he know that by now, but he fully understood it at last. As a dragon, nearly all the choices in his life had been his—except for the goddess’s curse. Einin’s life had been the opposite.

  He was never going to take a choice away from her.

  “If you wish…” He held himself in rigid control. “If you still wish, at another time, we could…”

  “I wish now.”

  His body trembled with need. “You choose this?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  “You would choose it even if the gods hadn’t—”

  “Even if.”

  A fierce, fiery pleasure spread through him. He sank into her inch by slow inch. He died and was reborn at least twice before he was fully sheat
hed inside her incredible heat at last. He needed all his strength to hold still for a few more moments so she could adjust to his size. His lungs bellowed. He wanted to talk to her, but he found himself without the ability to speak.

  He held back, and held, and held, and held, until tremors shook his entire body, until steam replaced his brain in his head, until all coherent thought evaporated.

  After endless, impossible, torturous moments, he eased back, then forged forward, into her, all the way, again. They were both gasping for air, her tight sheath strangling him. He reached for strength he didn’t know he had as he began to move in her gently instead of the urgent, violent coupling he craved.

  He glanced between them as he worked himself in and out of her, her juices glistening on his manhood, along with the smears of her virgin blood. A single, savage, primal thought drummed in his brain, that she was his. She would hate that thought. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too much of a beast.

  He dipped his head and kissed her deeply and thoroughly, then moved his lips down her throat and drew her tight nipple into his mouth. He didn’t have enough restraint left to be gentle there, so he sucked hard.

  She squirmed against him again, the hands on his shoulder pulling him closer once more instead of pushing him away. When he looked up at her face, her eyes were rolled back in her head from pleasure.

  Another wave of the gods’ lust rose outside.

  Draknart lost the last of his control then and plunged into Einin as he craved. He took her roughly, madly, deeply. He ground himself into her, one hand holding her by the back of her neck, the other sliding between them to caress her swollen nub.

  She spent with a cry that echoed through the cave, her muscles gripping him so tightly, he felt light-headed from the pleasure. As he spilled his seed deep inside her, out of his mouth came the roar of a dragon.

  He waited to pull out until he softened a little, to make it easier on her. Not that he softened much. He dropped to the ground next to her, then rolled on his back as they panted side by side in the semidarkness of the cave.