Dragon Treasure by SJ Sanders
Chapter 18
The frustrating ache that came with being denied orgasms repeatedly faded by the time their drawn-out meal together was over. She had tried her luck with biting him, hoping that he would give up trying to feed her, but he merely chuckled and allowed her to chew uselessly on the side of his hand until her jaws became tired and she let go with a huff.
If there was any admiration or amusement there, she refused to acknowledge it or admire the patience in the face of her rebellion. All the while, she wiggled uncomfortably within her chair, her thighs rubbing together as her frustration fed and further knotted and tangled her confused feelings toward Drathnor.
Frustration was too mild a word. By the time evening fell, she was tempted to beg for relief, to watch his eyes warm to the color of brilliant blue hot springs as he touched her. She clamped her teeth together, too proud to let on that maybe he was right. What she was feeling was no mere itch that needed to be scratched but that scared her enough—as a sign of the impending and unavoidable changes in her life—that she refused to act on it.
Not that she was given much opportunity. For a creature that lore made out to be a lazy being content to slumber in piles of gold, her dragon kept busy rearranging their quarters to suit their space needs before ducking into the private tunnel leading to his nest, his small chest—his hoard seed—and the bag of treasures disappearing with him. His claws had cut through her sack and the wards keyed to her with ridiculous ease that still had her grumbling about getting a refund. When he emerged sometime later, it was with several ancient books piled onto one arm with a tiny, delicate box set on top of the stack, while he carried a strange stone piece under his arm.
She eyed it curiously, unable to make heads or tails out of what the rock’s purpose could be. Whatever it was, a fleeting look of warmth crossed his face as he tucked it lovingly into a corner. Once the stone was secure, he set the books reverently on the shelf on one wall. He palmed the tiny box in his massive hand as he turned to her with it.
Tania had no idea what it was that he was carrying over to her. One thing was for sure: he obviously wasn’t relocating any of his treasure. The box was so small that it couldn’t hold anything more impressive than some tiny gems or a handful of gold coins. She bit back a sigh of disappointment. She had a feeling that she had seen the last of his hoard.
Still, she couldn’t resist peering over at it curiously when he opened the lid, revealing a beautiful gold collar studded with sapphires. Her breath caught. This was something that would only be seen on the necks of the finest and most noble women, and he was extending it to her as if it were nothing but a bauble.
Setting it on the table, he strode toward her empty-handed. She jerked her head back, keeping her eyes on him when he leaned forward and removed the leather collar from around her neck. She blinked up at him in surprise, and the corners of his mouth twitched despite his attempt to shutter his expression. She was already learning to read him, though, and she sucked her lips in at the frank admiration that lit up shimmering aquamarine eyes. They were pools that beckoned, and gods helped her, she wanted to lean forward and get lost in them.
It was probably the bond speaking, and that alone should make her cautious, but not in the habit of denying herself anything, part of her was curious just where that desire would take her.
“What’s that?” she asked quietly. “It’s beautiful.”
His wings snapped in a fluster behind him, and he dipped his head.
“Although this is necessary, I could not bear to see a common animal’s collar gracing my mate’s lovely neck. It is crude and conveys nothing of how precious you are. This was my grandmother’s, gifted to my hoard for when I found a mate. Do not worry. It is enchanted to fit the neck of any who wears it. As you are my mate, it is appropriate that the female be you. I would be delighted if you wore it.”
He extended it to her, and she looked at him warily.
“You’re giving me a choice?”
A pained look crossed his face, disappearing so fast she was certain she imagined it.
“A mating gift can only be accepted or refused. If you do not wish it, I will find something suitable to return with while we train.”
In other words, she was going to be wearing a collar regardless. If that was the case, it cost her nothing to please them both. He wanted her to wear it, and she really wanted it. She could have been using the opportunity to try to make a break for it, but she couldn’t help but to be a little bit intrigued by the situation with its mixed signals of fear and desire and something elusive that she couldn’t name. It was against her self-interest. She recognized that fact but that didn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
“This one is lovely, thank you.”
He bared his teeth in another wide grin, but she found that she reacted a bit less to it this time than she had the last. She was sure her eye ticked at the alarming sight, and the tiny hairs on her arms raised, but otherwise she found herself returning the smile as he leaned forward and gently fastened the cool metal around her neck.
As promised, it adjusted and he carefully knotted the rope on a loop from which hung a larger gem. She gave it a worrying look as he tightened the knot.
“Are you sure that won’t break it? Jewelry isn’t meant to be leashed, as far as I understand.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“Elven-crafted and dwarven-forged. It won’t so much as bend no matter how much pressure you put on it,” he assured her. “Dragons tend to be hard on things of this nature, so they are made to last.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief. I was worried I would have to cry if the sapphire pendant fell off and disappeared on me.”
He let out another chuff and tied her hands together once before loosely tying off the excess on the bed post, giving her some room to move about. She spent much of the rest of the day pacing, prying into anything within reaching distance, when possible, while Drathnor pored over his books or carefully carved into the rock with his claws.
Although she should have felt ignored, it was a surprisingly comfortable silence, broken frequently by her random questions to which he never failed to reply. Even when he appeared completely engrossed, he looked up, giving her his full attention as his pale eyes scrutinized her, and sometimes lit up with amusement by some of the inane things she came up with to talk about. It was weird being the center of someone’s attention, and she couldn’t say that she hated it.
Or him.
“I’m pretty sure I hate you,” she informed him come nightfall, grumbling up at him when he tightened the slack of her rope so that she was more firmly secured to her designated side of the bed. “I can’t believe that you think this necessary.”
“I do not wish to tempt my mate into becoming a dragon slayer early in life,” he replied softly, the teasing edge to his voice catching her off guard.
She gave a light tug, the give on the rope reassuring her that it wouldn’t dig painfully into her skin and chafe at night while she slept. It wouldn’t be enjoyable, but she would be able to sleep in it at least.
Although she was tied in a way that prevented her from seeing to her needs and relieve that pressure that still taunted her from where it zinged in tiny pulses from time to time, she glanced over her shoulder when Drathnor took the remaining length of rope and tied it firmly around his waist. The length was too short to allow him to lay comfortably back on his wings, but he didn’t seem distressed about it.
Catching her eye, he nodded toward the rope. “We are both bound by this thing. I will not sleep any more comfortably than you.”
The brush of her thighs together as she curled back onto her side and attempted to get settled was just enough to send a zing of pleasure straight to her clit. The sensitive bead of flesh still felt unnaturally swollen, given how long it had been, and she groaned as a fresh wave of lust curled through her belly.
Drathnor drew in a deep breath, and a frosted mist escaped his mouth. He gave her an inscrutable look before curling his massive body around hers in a manner that seemed surprisingly affectionate. His left hand petted her back and shoulder in long strokes, but while gentle, his touch wasn’t the least bit sexual.
It was both sweet and completely maddening!
Sinking her teeth into her pillow, she vented her frustration on it until exhaustion claimed her. Rolling partially onto her back—as far as she could manage with the limited reach of her bonds—and deeper into the male’s embrace, she sighed and looked at the ceiling.
Her brow dropped in a confused frown as the shadows above seemed to shift. Darting a glance at the male beside her, she ground her teeth together noting that he was already, once more, deep in slumber. Lifting her eyes back to the ceiling, her muscles froze, stiffening to the point of agony as she stared up at the shadows that moved as if something was crawling through them. Her vision wasn’t penetrating that darkness, and that frightened her even more.
Her eyes could see into any natural darkness.
So what kind of darkness was unnatural?
A pair of luminous green orbs appeared as if peering down at her, and the fine hairs on her body stood on end.
That was certainly not natural!
A sharp scream broke from her, and Drathnor jerked up with a snarl that choked off into a wheeze when the rope cut into his torso with his sudden movement. His body immediately curled around hers until he practically covered her, his tail flicking as his eyes scanned their surroundings, cold mist seeping from the corners of his mouth once more.
“The ceiling,” she choked out, and his head knocked back as his icy eyes scanned the ceiling above them.
After several minutes with not a sound in the room except her dragon’s deep, threatening rumble, his head finally drew back to look down at her.
“There is nothing,” he said quietly.
Tania craned her neck, peering around him in disbelief. Sure enough, there was nothing above them but the roof beams. She swallowed back the dread that rose from her stomach.
This wasn’t right.
“I know what I saw,” she whispered hoarsely. “There was something there with a lot of legs and green glowing eyes.
Drathnor frowned as he looked around the room, his mouth gaping slightly as he scented the air.
“Nothing. If anything was present, it is gone now.” His eyes narrowed as he looked up once more. “I do not like this place,” he muttered, more to himself than speaking to her.
Tania clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t either, but the alternative was to be buried beneath the mountain, and that was nearly as frightening.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, allowing her head to flop back onto the pillow.
The dragon watched her quietly for several minutes before he settled back onto the bed. This time, however, his movements seemed more cautious and on edge. Closing her eyes tight, she desperately blocked out the world around her and sought sleep. Either she was losing her mind or there was something wrong with the monastery… more than what she feared. Her body trembled until a heavy arm and tail circled around her, drawing her within the shelter of a large body.
She breathed in the cool, pleasant scent of his body and relaxed as she burrowed into his warmth. He was her enemy, and yet she found that within his embrace she was able to drift off into a sleep that would have otherwise been impossible. Even still, shadows swirled and moved in her dreams, hiding unknown things. The protective bulk of the dragon shielded her, but she knew that they were still there—watching her and waiting.
Morning brought little relief when she woke at dawn thanks to the loud crow of a rooster that needed to be shot and put into a stewpot. Eyes flying open, she squinted up at the ceiling, relieved to find that it was empty of the crawling darkness that had previously occupied the space. The shadows in the room were heavy and long in a way that felt oppressive and barely penetrated by the light of the hearth. Even the birdsong coming from outside seemed distorted. Turning her head further, Tania squinted over her shoulder at the empty bed behind her. Drathnor had already awoken it, seemed.
A deep voice startled her when it rumbled from the direction of the desk sitting outside of her field of vision.
“Good. You are awake,” he observed.
The sound of the chair legs dragging across the floor followed, along with the heavy footfall of the approaching dragon.
He was nearly at the bed by the time she saw him. His expression was utterly unreadable, and her skin quivered in a reaction that she couldn’t quite define. Yes, there was fear there, but something else too. His eyes moved over her before he leaned forward and unleashed her from the bed.
Tania moaned happily as she stretched her muscles. From the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes gleam before he turned away, the end of the rope still firmly held in his hand, but with more than enough slack that it allowed her to do her business without witnesses.
Or at least not of the living, breathing variety. Once she was finished, the pull-out commode flashed, magically atomizing the waste into energy drawn into the monastery’s storage system. It was the sort of fancy mago-tech that one usually found in well-to-do households, houses of worship, and wealthy establishments. It was a nice change from the other sanitary resources she had to make do with. Not even boarding houses and taverns had that level of mago-tech onsite. Despite the fact that the monastery made her skin crawl, it was nice knowing that she would have access to it and the springs for the foreseeable future.
Rinsing her hands at a spigot tucked into a private corner, she contemplated her captor-mate. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let her go and had absolutely no problem going out of his way to hunt her ass down if she tried to make a break for it. What was more, it was also clear that any attempts to escape or sabotage his weird bonding lessons wouldn’t deter him.
Oddly enough, she felt even less eager to rush away than she had the night before. She had liked being surrounded by his heat and held and guarded through the night. She had felt… cherished. It was a strange concept for her.
Ignoring the way her nipples puckered, Tania dried her hands, ignoring the weight of the rope, and turned toward the dragon.
The large stone he had brought up from his nest sat on the desk in front of him, chips and powder coating the wood all around it. It lay forgotten, however. Even though he once more sat behind the desk, his tail partially visible from where it looped lightly around his right leg, his attention was now on her.
Struck by a playful urge, she held up her hands and smiled at Drathnor suggestively. “So… how long are we going to play this game?”
His thick, plated brow rose.
“Until it serves its purpose,” he replied lazily, his eyes sparking with warmth despite his bland expression.
Dragons were a hard species to read. They probably would clean house if they gambled at all. Hell, it was possible he won parts of his hoard that way as far as she knew.
She snorted, amused at his response to her complaint as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Point taken, but keeping your mate tied down is not the way to begin a new relationship.”
He stood in a single smooth motion, the bulk of his scaled body eclipsing her as he peered down at her.
“I disagree,” he murmured, his claw skating lightly against her exposed flesh below her collar. “A mating bond is not merely a relationship but a permanent tie. Experiencing that in the flesh conditions the mind to accept what nature informs it. There is no escaping it, even as you cannot escape the rope around you.”
“It chafes,” she interrupted in a flat voice.
His head cocked and stepped toward her, his large hand closing around her forearm to bring her wrists up for his inspection. Although the rope was not painfully tight, it had in fact rubbed while she slept and so rope burns, though light, were plainly visible.
The corners of his mouth turned down and he released her arm, allowing her hands to fall once more in front of her.
“This will not do,” he growled. “Your skin is disturbingly fragile. I will have to find a compromise for this situation.”
She perked up and fought back a smile. This was finally moving in the right direction.
“I’m all ears,” she said in her sweetest voice.
The dragon’s brow dipped in confusion, but he shook his head and continued on as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Today, we will try limited freedom. You will be bound at mealtime around the arms and torso, again during our lesson, and then again at night before bed. But during the day while I am supervising, you may be free of them otherwise.”
“Not much of a compromise if I’m just remaining prisoner in here,” she teased, surprising even herself by the laughter in her voice.
He chuffed and shook his head. “Not a prisoner, my mate. In fact, you may have supervised freedom in other rooms of the monastery but will be led bound around the waist when we travel from room to room.”
A grin creased her cheeks. “Afraid that I’ll run, are you?”
His tail flicked. “Reinforcing the purpose of your lesson,” he clarified, his mouth bowing.
Lifting her hands up between them, she beamed at Drathnor with unrestrained enthusiasm.
“Looks to me like you have a deal!”
Grunting, he inclined his head, but instead of freeing her, he drew her over to the chair before removing the rope from around her wrists, tying her down to the chair once more.
She let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “Seriously?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, so quickly that she almost missed it again before he turned away to clear the rock from the desk and wipe the surface down with a wet rag. Ignoring his clean up job, she stared at the stone in fascination. If she was not mistaken, it looked a bit hollower than it had the day before.
She jerked her chin toward it. “What’s with the rock. Another torture device you’re preparing for me?”
He glanced at it but didn’t break rhythm in his methodical cleaning. To her disappointment, he didn’t smile or laugh at her jest.
“It is a task that has been put off long enough,” he mumbled elusively.
Sighing at the non-answer, Tania slumped down in her seat as much as she could and watched him work. It was a short time later that she stiffened when a droid entered, setting new platters on the desk and retrieving those from the previous night before making its exit.
Drathnor let out an amused laugh and removed the domes, releasing fragrant plumes of steam that made her mouth water.
“You are a strange female,” he observed, his eyes gleaming with humor. “And now, we shall try eating together again,” he murmured as he plucked a morsel up between his claws. “No biting,” he warned.
Her eyes sparkled up at him merrily. “Only if you ask.”
He let out a sharp chuff of laughter, and Tania sighed in pleasure when he placed the morsel on her tongue.
“Progress, my precious mate,” he rasped, the sound skating over her skin like an erotic caress.
Tania’s body quivered like a bowstring pulled taut, the tension increasing with every bite he offered her. His claws and the silky, delicately scaled fingertips occasionally brushing her lips and the corner of her mouth. He brushed the pad of his thumb slowly across her bottom lip, and she shivered.
What kind of meal was this?
Drawing her face away from his touch, she narrowed his eyes on him suspiciously. “I don’t suppose you play chess?”
His head tipped with interest. “A game of strategy? Against me?”
Her eyebrow raised. “What’s wrong? Do you think you’ll lose?”
He barked another laugh and shook his head. “Eat and then we play, female.”
“As if we aren’t already,” she muttered and accepted another bite as she enjoyed the thought of wiping him over the game board.
He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed a good game. Regaining even the smallest sliver of her dignity would be worth sitting through this torturous meal just to see him eat crow when he lost.