Dragon's Tribute Part 3

His tone chilled her. She wanted no reminder that in normal circ.u.mstances he would see her only as "prey" or, at best, a minor nuisance infesting the landscape.

Clearly noticing the way she shrank from him, he pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. Againsther will, she melted in the warmth of his embrace. "Come, my sweet, these things happened long ago.

Now I shall leave all human folk unmolested for your sake. Put the past out of your thoughts, and drink with me."

From one of the open chests he took a pair of silver goblets, inlaid with blue stones. "Turquoise," he said.

He filled each cup from a small cask of what he had called "water of life." "Drink carefully," he said, handing her a cup.

The liquid looked as clear as water but had a strong aroma. She took a tentative sip. The liquor seared down her throat and settled in her stomach like a hot coal. With a sputtering cough, she said, "It-burns."

"Take it slowly, and you will come to enjoy it." Taking her hand, he drew her onto the cus.h.i.+ons. The cloak slid off as she lay down. "Try it this way." He siphoned a bit of his drink into his mouth, then cradled her head in his hand and kissed her.

A few drops of the liquor seeped between her lips. Startled, she parted them to let the rest of the mouthful trickle in. The warmth of Virid's tongue and his cinnamon-like flavor softened the sting of the drink. When she swallowed, the liquid fire again flowed through her throat and chest to the pit of her stomach. Its heat radiated through her body to ignite a fresh stirring between her legs.

"Better?" He took another sip and fed it to her the same way, pausing after she swallowed to nibble the sides of her mouth.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a deeper kiss. When she had to stop for breath, he transferred another portion of water of life from his mouth to hers.

"Now you can surely drink from the goblet," he said. He drained his own cup and placed hers in her hand.

With care, she tried a sip. It did go down more smoothly now. Little by little, she emptied the cup. As soon as she finished, Virid kissed her again. Her eyes drifted shut while the tip of his tongue explored the corners of her mouth, the inside of her lips, the edge of her teeth. She felt dizzy.

Cool air replaced the warmth of Virid's body. She opened her eyes to see him drawing another draft of liquor into each of the goblets. He nestled into the cus.h.i.+ons with her once more and pressed a cup into her hand. When he drained his, she followed his example. She didn't mind the burning at all now. Her head seemed to float. From her lax grip the goblet rolled onto the floor. Virid set down his empty goblet and s.h.i.+fted his body to cover hers. Through her skirt, she felt his hardening c.o.c.k. He cupped her breast through her bodice. A heavy ache spread from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to her quim. His open palm brushed the stiff nipple.

"Want it off," she said, squirming under him. The nipple rubbed tantalizingly against the cloth.

"What?" he said with a feral smile.

She fumbled with the ribbons at her neck. He untied them, reached for the hem of the kirtle, and helped her shrug out of the garment. The linen undertunic still covered the parts of her body she yearned for him to touch. "And this," she said, tugging the smock upward.

He reached under it to fondle her triangle of hair. The burning between her legs increased. "Can I not swive you in your s.h.i.+ft?"

His teasing tone maddened her. "Don't want it on." She sat up, dislodging his hand, and peeled off the undergarment. Her head and stomach lurched. Giggling, she flopped down on the pillows. "Now you can touch me the right way."

"This way?" He covered her mount of Venus again, while he bent over her to flick each nipple with his tongue. When she moaned and arched her back, he lapped one nipple in a rhythm that made her skin p.r.i.c.kle with delicious chills in contrast to the fire in her stomach and between her thighs.

His fingertip barely touched her bud, swollen so tightly she felt it might burst. She undulated her hips.

Lifting his head, Virid gazed into her half-closed eyes. "Am I not doing it the right way?"

"Don't stop licking!"

He gave the opposite nipple a light flick of his tongue. "Is that all you want?"

"You know what I want." She pressed his hand into her mound. "It burns. Frig me again." A hot blush spread over her bare skin. She had certainly never talked to Will this way. But surely mating with a dragon had different rules.

At once Virid claimed her breast with his mouth once more, and his fingers danced over her quim. Two of them probed inside her, while another strummed her bud. Fire seemed to flood her veins. Her bud and her sheath pulsed like another heartbeat. She screamed, clutched Virid's shoulders, and dug her nails into his flesh.

Lost in a whirlpool of sensation, she became dimly aware that his c.o.c.k still pressed against her thigh."Come in!" she gasped. At once he plunged inside. The world spun around her. The cave floor seemed to tilt as if spilling her into empty s.p.a.ce. Caught in his arms, she found herself rolling over. She crouched on top of him, while he thrust upward, impaling her on his pole. She rode him, her nails still scoring his shoulders and chest. One final thrust shot his fire into her. She cried out, convulsed in ecstasy, and collapsed upon him.

Panting, she moved sideways to take her full weight off his chest. "I never expected this," she said when she caught her breath. "Such rapture. And so many times." She ran her hand over the scratches she had inflicted. They oozed bluish blood instead of red. Her head still swimming, she rested it on his shoulder while he lay supine against the pillows.

"Remember, my treasure," he murmured, "the more often we mate, the sooner our child will be conceived."

Did she want that result? Her stomach knotted with anxiety at the thought of bearing any child in this strange nursery, much less a babe that most people would call a monster. Rather than anger Virid by voicing these doubts, she asked the question uppermost in her mind. "If I get with child, will it be human or dragon?"

"I know the answer to that no more than you. Such crossbreeds are matters of legend, not living memory. Your grandmother bore a human-appearing child, and the dragon heritage hid in your mother's blood until it woke in yours."

"Then shouldn't my baby, if I have one, look human, too?" In the back of her mind lurked the thought that if she became unhappy with Virid, she could take her child and flee to some distant town, as her grandmother had. Or, if none would accept her, she might become an outlaw in the greenwood, as she'd fancied in her girlhood. With dragon powers, she could feed and protect herself and her baby.

"Not necessarily. Your grandam was entirely human, so her offspring was only half draconic. Because you come from a part-dragon bloodline, our young might be a wyrmling, or perhaps midway between wyrmling and human babe."

"What's a wyrmling?" she asked drowsily.

"A dragonet, a child of our kind."

Still lightheaded from the drink, she rubbed her eyes, trying to keep alert long enough to ask the question weighing on her heart. " I wish I could talk to Grandmother. If she would tell me what really happened to her while she lived with her dragon, maybe I would know better what to expect." A growl rumbled in Virid's chest. "What truths could she offer that I cannot? In any case, you will never see her again, so put that notion out of your mind."

Chapter Four.

Rowena lifted her head to gaze into his jewel-green eyes. "But I could see her. I could fly there and visit in secret. No one else would have to know, but at least I could show my family I'm alive, so they wouldn't grieve."

"Stop being a fool!" He gave her a brisk shake, then drew her into such a tight embrace that she could hardly breathe. "You told me what your grandam's own people did to her. I will not allow you to risk your life."

"My life?" She squirmed until he relaxed his hold. "Now you're the one talking like a fool. Even if my neighbors caught me, they wouldn't hurt me. They would only throw me out. And I would have a chance to help my parents, too. I could bring them a little of the treasure."

He glowered at her. "You show remarkable generosity with my wealth."

She glared back at him. "You could easily spare a handful of coins and a few small gems. You'd never notice the lack. Besides, if I'm your mate instead of your captive, isn't it my wealth, too?"

"That is irrelevant. What do you suppose would happen to your parents if they tried to spend coins from an unknown source? What would your Baron do in such a case?"

Though she realized he had a valid point, she didn't want to admit defeat. "We could think of a way around that problem. If only I could see them once-"

"Enough! Stop this nonsense, or I will have to silence you."

A s.h.i.+ver went through her at the blaze of anger in his eyes. She raised her chin, trying to look unafraid.

"How?"

"Thus." Gripping her head in both hands, he covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted involuntarily. His tongue teased hers, and she explored his lips while tasting his incense-tinged breath. Waves of heat and cold swept over her. After a long, languid kiss, he released her, eased her onto the cus.h.i.+ons, and covered her with a silken sheet. "Rest, my treasure. After drinking so deeply, I cannot hold this shape much longer." He walked over to the treasure pile and reclined on it. Once again the air around him s.h.i.+mmered, and he returned to his dragon form. Copper and silver clinked under his weight. Stretching out his serpentine neck, he closed his eyes and sank into sleep.

Standing up, Rowena staggered with vertigo. Her head still reeled from the liquor. She giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Virid showed no sign of being disturbed by the noise. With exaggerated care, she tiptoed over to his motionless bulk, leaning on the wall for support when she stumbled. His chest expanded and deflated in the slow rhythm of sleep. Wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils with each breath. She laid a hand on his scaly side. No reaction.

The depth of his slumber sparked an idea. I don't need his permission to visit home. I can fly there and back before he ever wakes up.

Naked, she fumbled her way to the portal. She blinked and rubbed her eyes until they adjusted to the glare of the sun. When she drew a deep breath and visualized her body swelling into dragon shape, a spasm of doubt racked her. Could she transform without her mate's help? Did the magic really flow in her blood, or had he worked the change through his power?

Shaking off her qualms, she closed her eyes and groped for the core of fire at her heart. She conjured up the image of her other self, huge, winged, iridescent, armed with fierce teeth and claws. Her dragon nature flared up like a torch bursting into flame. When she opened her eyes, the aquamarine wings lay folded along her sides, and her hands had become talons.

The landscape spread out below her. Her newly keen eyes picked out her home village in the distance.

For a moment the sheer drop into the ravine made her queasy. Suppose she jumped into the void and discovered she couldn't fly without Viridiseffulgentissimus beside her?

Of course I can. I changed without help, didn't I? Dragon power was part of her nature. He had said so himself.

She crept to the ledge and teetered on the rim of it. Only here could she unfold her wings to their full span. She tried an experimental flap, enjoying the cool breeze her motion stirred. Another giggle burbled in her throat, a sound that came out as a low growl from her fanged jaws. She leaped off the ledge.

Wind rushed up to meet her. She lurched sideways and flapped frantically to right herself. Raising her head, she hurtled upward through turbulent air. Too high, too fast. She struggled to level off and rolledalmost completely over. Her head reeled.

When she managed to force her flight under control, she had cleared the ravine and was soaring in the direction of the village. On a hilltop to her left, she glimpsed the Baron's square-towered castle. An urge seized her to swoop over the keep and disgorge flame on the lord's guardsmen, those men who had dragged her to the tree of sacrifice and tied her there as a feast for a monster. She restrained herself, knowing her mate would not approve of provoking them.

She wobbled with dizziness whenever she turned or banked. The liquor hadn't worn off, she realized.

Maybe she had better not try to visit her family this time. She would settle for a quick glimpse of her home and come back another day, when she wasn't befuddled with drink and had learned to use her wings more smoothly.

Soon she caught sight of the stream that flowed through town and drove the mill wheel. She followed the watercourse through the gradually thinning forest toward the village. When she approached near enough to distinguish one building from another, she suddenly recalled the dragon's warning against flying too low. She couldn't let herself be seen. She launched herself skyward in a series of awkward jerks and irregular wing flaps. I must look like a barnyard goose pretending to be a swan, she thought. Her mate would be ashamed of her clumsiness.

Rising in a tight spiral, she circled high above the village. Was she high enough that anyone who happened to glance up would mistake her for a hawk? Her dragon eyes saw so much more sharply than her human sight that she couldn't judge distance by her own view of the landscape below. She picked out the village square, with the well and the small, stone church. The common croplands, strips of various shades of green and yellow, surrounded the central cl.u.s.ter of cottages with their sheds and outbuildings. She could see people and animals moving around the fields and kitchen gardens.

After a few minutes to get her bearings, she identified the small plot held by her parents. In the open s.p.a.ce between the two-room, thatch-roofed house and the chicken coop, a plump, brown-haired woman bent over a washtub.

Mamma! Rowena almost dove toward the ground to show herself. Just in time, she checked her dive and spiraled upward again. Did she want to make her mother drop dead from terror? If she wanted to greet her parents she would have to take human form.

Why not? Her earlier resolution to keep out of sight wavered. What harm would it do to find a hiding place where she could change shape, then slink around the outskirts of town to her parents' cottage? She would stay for only a few minutes, just long enough to rea.s.sure them of her survival. n.o.body else had tosee her.

She had spent several minutes looking for a good landing spot before sense prevailed again. Did she plan to walk up to her mother stark naked? A meeting would require better preparation, including a set of clothes to wear while in her woman shape.

Still, she lingered over the cottage a while longer, watching her mother rinse the linens and drape them over the hedge to dry, with "help" from one of the little boys. Rowena's flight was becoming smoother.

Maybe the drink's effect was fading, for her elation had evaporated. The glimpse of home only made clear to her how irrevocably she had been torn away from it. She descended a little lower for one last look. For the first time she noticed a small figure wrapped in a blanket in the shelter of the doorway.

Although the shadow of the house impeded her view, she decided the person had to be her youngest brother, four-year-old Harold.

Why was he lying there in broad daylight? Was he sick? If she met her mother face to face, she could find out what was wrong. Again the impossibility of that meeting forced itself upon her. Sadness clogged her throat. No, she certainly couldn't let her family see her this way.

Veering away, she headed back toward the stream. The millpond reflected the midsummer sun. She saw no one near the mill. Probably the miller was at work inside or dealing with one of the lord's tenants who had come to have grain ground into flour. Rowena thought about the times she had examined her own reflection in the pond's surface. She realized she hadn't seen her dragon face yet. Surely it would be safe to land for just a minute.

Flapping to slow her descent, she sank to the earth. The humid warmth of the summer day enveloped her. The upper air had been refres.h.i.+ngly cool in comparison. Her nostrils flared at the scents of gra.s.s, soil, water, and chaff. Another smell permeated the atmosphere too, the odor of human flesh and sweat clinging to the manmade structures that surrounded her. With her long tail dragging on the turf, she crawled to the verge of the pond between a pair of drooping willow trees.

Large, gleaming eyes stared back at her from the water's surface. Iridescent scales armored her neck. A crest stood up on the top of her head. She opened her mouth, gaping almost as wide as her mate's.

Teeth like daggers, made for stabbing and rending, lined her jaws. Any human being she tried to greet with that smile would flee in horror-or draw a sword and attack her. Hot tears dropped from her eyes and hissed in the water.

A sound penetrated her misery, the noise of a door slamming on the other side of the mill. The miller's voice called a farewell. His footsteps then tramped across the floor in Rowena's direction. If he emergedon the water side of the building, he would come face to face with her.

She backed away from the pond, shredding the turf with her claws. When she started to spread her wings, they brushed the branches of the trees on either side. She needed more room. The miller's steps were coming closer. She scrabbled backward, breathing hard in rising fear. Smoke puffed from her nose and wide-open mouth. After a few seconds of flailing between the trees, she reached the open s.p.a.ce where she had landed.

She flexed her legs to push off from the ground. For an instant she feared she would only sink to earth again, but the frantic beating of her wings raised her from the ground. Just as she straightened out and cleared the treetops, the miller stepped outside. He looked up.

She settled into a steady glide. While fleeing skyward as fast as her new flight skills allowed, she glimpsed the miller staring after her with his mouth open in shock, fortunately too stunned to scream. He saw me!

He'll tell the whole village he saw a dragon! What would they do when they heard of a dragon's invasion outside the customary Midsummer Eve encounter?

She reminded herself that the tenant farmers and craftsmen of the town, or even the Baron with his men at arms, could pose no real threat. Even if they knew the location of the dragon's lair, they had no way to climb up to the cave without being struck down long before reaching the entrance. The pounding of her heart slowed. She breathed deeply of the cool air that blew into her face as she flew. It refreshed her after the humidity and human scents on the ground.

A distant flying shape caught her eye. When it drew near at a speed much faster than hers, she recognized the huge, blue-green body and giant wingspread. Viridiseffulgentissimus hurtled toward her, flame spouting from his maw. It shot past her, only a few wingspans away. She felt the heat on her flank.

She dodged, and he followed, pacing her almost close enough to touch wingtips.

"Faster!" he roared at her in a voice like thunder. "To the lair! Fly!" His anger rushed over her like a storm. He surged ahead. She flew in his wake, struggling to keep her balance in the wind churned up by the beat of his wings.

Scant minutes seemed to pa.s.s before they reached the cave, a much quicker flight than she'd managed on her own. Viridiseffulgentissimus glided inside first, then turned to watch her clumsy landing. Her chest burned from her labored breathing. The back muscles that flexed her wings ached. The moment she collapsed onto the cave's floor, she flowed from dragon shape into her human body. On hands and knees, she looked up at the male dragon who loomed over her with his fangs bared. She trembled at the thought that he could kill her with a single blast of fire. She would not beg for mercy, though. She waited,motionless.

Instead of attacking, he changed to his man shape, which still towered over her. "You witless child!" he hissed. "Why did you defy me? Do you consider your life so worthless?"

"I only wanted one look at my home! What's the harm in that?"

"What harm?" He seized her arm in a painful grip and yanked her to her feet. "Suppose they had captured you? As it is, you were spotted. You cannot deny that. I saw that man watching your flight."

"So?" She tried to pull her arm free, but she couldn't match his strength. "What can he possibly do, besides tell his neighbors a dragon landed by the millpond?"

Virid dragged her to the cus.h.i.+ons and flung her onto her back. "And your village elders will report to the Baron, will they not? What do you suppose he will do?" He sank to his knees beside Rowena, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. "d.a.m.nation, woman, when I woke and found you gone, my heart froze."

Her eyes stung with tears from the shaking. She rubbed them away. "Why?"

"Why?" He stared at her as if she'd gone mad. "Because I thought you might have fled from me. Or else you had done some idiotic trick to put yourself in mortal danger. Either way, I feared I had lost you."

Did he truly care about losing her? Or only that he might have to go to the trouble of finding another female to bear his young? Rowena put the question out of her mind when he drew her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair.

"Beloved, my anger arose from fear for your safety." His heat enveloped her, and his heartbeat pounded in her ears.

"But what is there to be afraid of? You're an ancient dragon, and they're only human."

"Listen carefully and believe me this time." His hand skimmed over her head, down her back, and up again in a soothing rhythm that melted away her aches. "I have a bargain with your Baron. Once a year, the folk of his holdings offer me a woman as tribute. In exchange, I leave them alone, aside from s.n.a.t.c.hing an occasional beast from their flocks and herds if the game becomes scarce. Because your lord knows he can trust me not to prey on his subjects, he sends no swordsmen or archers in search of my lair. What will he do if he decides he can no longer trust that bargain?"

Rowena tilted her head to gaze into his emerald eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The miller saw you. A dragon in an inhabited place, and not on Midsummer Eve. I doubt your peoplecan tell one dragon from another. They only know they may be in danger, danger the tribute was supposed to prevent."

It still seemed to her that Virid was becoming alarmed over nothing. "But what could they do? Even if they knew where this cave is and could get up here somehow, surely you're more powerful than any of the Baron's fighting men."