Dragon Treasure by SJ Sanders
Chapter 20
Tania clung to the dragon as he carried her from the baths. She was never going to willingly set foot in that room again. There was a carved tub in their room. She would take her baths there. As pleasant as her memory of the baths were from her last visit, she could never look at the pools the same way again after having been dragged to those depths and either fucked or devoured from the inside out by some monster that she never saw beyond its writhing tentacles that had surrounded and pried against her.
She had put up a good fight, but without a weapon she had been entirely helpless. She couldn’t go through that again. She would rather face the creepy service droid a hundred times a day then ever set foot in that room again.
The dragon’s arms tightened around her as she shivered against him. She felt foolishly weak. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t encountered many dangers and seen strange magical mutations that had occurred since the joining of the worlds. But that thing hadn’t just been a random beast encountered by chance or a clever booby trap. There was a malevolent sentience about it—she was certain of it. The way it had explored and taken advantage of her weaknesses was not the act of an animal. An animal would have just torn her apart. There had been something cruel, methodical, and intentional about its actions that made bile rise up in her throat at the memory.
“She shivers. Is she okay?” the knight asked as he dogged Drathnor through the corridors, his light brown eyes glancing at her from time to time with concern.
Although he had hastily thrown his armor back on over his tunic, it remained unlaced, showing defined muscle in the large gaps of the leather and plate sections. Muscles bunched as he worked to keep up with the dragon’s longer stride.
The temple knight wasn’t a bad-looking man. Tall and muscular, he cut quite a figure in and out of his armor and moved with the lithe grace of a natural fighter. With his helmet off and tucked beneath his arm, she was treated to the sight of curly brown locks framing his face in a wild tumble that no doubt made any red-blooded woman want to run her hands through them.
Anyone other than Tania. Her naturally suspicious nature made her wary of the knight’s helpfulness and concern. She immediately wondered what his angle was that had him fussing over her, a thief and complete stranger.
Drathnor, despite his maddening possessiveness and insistence on keeping her, she understood. Even if the finer points about the whole mating business were lost upon her, she understood the root of his concern. He considered her his mate and therefore possessed every bit of the possessive, protective, and even affectionate characteristics that she would have expected. He cared because she was his, due to the peculiarities of the bond which she was only just starting to understand the deep ramifications of.
In her experience, men used whatever arsenal they had in order to strike their claim and own her, and over the years she had worked even harder to prevent that very thing from happening. In their world, few enjoyed romance for the sake of love rather than using it as a trap. She had never been so fortunate, and so it was only natural that she had been working hard to dismiss Drathnor’s claims of a bond left and right as nothing more than meaningless drivel to excuse his own desire to own her. Yet he had been wearing her down, surprisingly through his devotion to his lessons of all things—and now this. He had thrown himself into the water after her to rescue her from an unknown predator. Not even able to discern what it was, he hadn’t hesitated to strike and remove her from the immediate threat.
He could have been killed! That realization pained her more than she liked to admit.
It was funny when a very real close brush with death helped clarify one’s perspective. Was she in love? No, she didn’t think so. But she had a great appreciation and hereto unknown attachment to this bond now that she was starting to see it clearer, craving even more from it.
Even now, the male was semi-curled around her, sheltering her smaller body with his own and sharing his heat as he attempted to shake the inquisitive knight trailing after them. Drathnor wasn’t the least bit at ease as he carried her at a rapid clip, not slowing his pace for a human stride to keep up. Instead, his eyes seemed to look everywhere at once, the muscles of the arms carrying her tense in case something else attacked from some hidden passage. The added distraction of the unwanted male in their company didn’t help matters. Every moment that passed in which the knight failed to take the hint and go the fuck away was one that made the dragon let out low, rattling growls.
She didn’t blame him. The guy was starting to get on her nerves too. She rather hoped that her testy mate would succeed in chasing him off. Or eat him...well, maybe not that. She inwardly cringed at the idea of dead bits of knight being lodged between his teeth.
Regardless, the knight was an unwanted nuisance, regardless of how chivalrous he thought he was being. Drathnor’s protection was more than enough. There was little the human could do that her mate couldn’t do better.
Truth be told, she was beginning to see that it wasn’t so bad being a dragon’s mate. He had her back and genuinely seemed interested in talking to her. He stood with her against danger, and frightened away attention from men she would rather not have. He might even be willing to throw in with some of her crazier ideas if she could talk him into leaving the mountain from time to time.
Her lips curved imagining the sort of fierce partnership they could have when they felt the spirit for adventure move them. No more teaming up with questionable louts who would sooner stab her in the back if she didn’t get them first.
“Of course not,” Drathnor hissed, bringing her attention back to the discussion at hand. “She was attacked in your very own pools by a creature that should not have been there or even exist for that matter.”
The knight shook his head in confusion, his gaze skittering back to her yet again. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that was. I have never heard any rumor or seen with my eyes any sort of terrors here in the monastery. It has always been a very holy place.”
Holy… Sure, if you consider living embodiments of nightmares holy. Perhaps if he had ventured deeper instead of just splashing around like a babe. Then he could have seen for himself just how terrible it was.
Judging from the murals in the baths, however, she wasn’t about to comment on that one. She had been around to know that the gods and spirits came in many different forms, some darker than others, but what those murals showed, and from what she’d seen so far of the things that appeared to be dwelling in the monastery, their views on what was holy diverged.
“What is the plan now?” the knight persisted as he dodged the dragon’s twitching tail.
Drathnor cut him an impatient look that was so cold that she marveled that the knight continued to follow them. With hero worship in his eyes if she didn’t miss her guess. She barely resisted rolling her eyes. It was so predictable. A man cozying up to a source of power that he wanted to emulate or be connected to in some fashion. And what was more powerful than a dragon?
To her surprise, Drathnor replied, even though his voice had a distinctive bite to it. She craned her head back slightly to peer up at her mate, but his expression was closed and inscrutable outside of a tic in his wide jaw. The dragon was playing nice… for now, but if the knight didn’t back up, he was going to burn through Drathnor’s goodwill fast.
“I will hunt for that creature further, but only after I see to my mate’s safety,” he growled out.
The knight’s eyes widened, and he quickened his pace so that he could slide in front of Drathnor to assume a supplicating pose. With his fist slammed against his chest and head bowed, he looked like the very image of chivalry… and was fortunate that the dragon didn’t mow him over. The way his pale eyes glinted, she was certain that he had at least entertained the thought. Seeing how she wanted the knight frightened away and not a smear on the rugs that they would have to explain, she set out to soothe her dragon.
His large body shuddered when she gently stroked the flexible webbed spines that ridged his ear, effectively distracting him from whatever violence he was feeling at that moment, although it did little to soften the angry words that shot out of his mouth.
“Move, human!”
“I, Jerard Comley, hereby pledge myself to your service, O honorable dragon.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Drathnor muttered, effortlessly sidestepping their knightly hanger-on, Jerard, without breaking stride. His ear fans she had been playing with flattened, and his wings pinned to his back with obvious irritation.
The knight, about as clueless and eager as a puppy, followed close behind, ignoring every signal she gave him to back off before he got chewed up and spat out. If he hadn’t the sense to run at clear signs of agitation, she had hoped that he would have enough sense to catch her warning. That hope proved futile. She swallowed a pained groan when he edged closer to them. Close enough to nearly be within touching distance of her leg.
Tania muscles tightened, sensing the impending approach of doom. She wasn’t entirely sure he had a death wish until she heard the words spill out of his mouth.
“As your knight, it will be my honor to take your mate from you and see to her safety. I will guard her in your rooms and keep her close at my side at all times while you hunt. It would be my greatest honor.”
Tania’s eyes widened, her gaze jumping to her mate, fearing for the stupid man’s life. Was he insane? Drathnor had been nothing short of territorial from the first. Jerard couldn’t possibly think that the dragon would see his offer as anything less than a transgression.
Sure enough, her protective mate swung around with a vicious snarl, his wings fanning wide, the many-jointed fingers rattling in a threatening display as the shimmering blue of his wing’s webbing managed to catch the light, reflecting it from its surface in a dizzying wash of color. Tania gaped at the colorful display, or what little she could see of it from where she was pressing her head against the broad, scaled chest beneath her cheek to keep it from being whipped around. But even from her position, she watched the knight back up in alarm.
Jerard’s eyes slid to her once more, his brow furrowing. In his distracted state, he nearly came close to losing his face when Drathnor’s head snaked around and his teeth snapped close enough to the knight’s vulnerable skin that she was shocked when he pulled back and she saw no blood. All that remained was a man who looked as if his body was trying to decide between puking or shitting itself.
Tania couldn’t fault that reaction, not when she wasn’t sure whether or not her mate missed on purpose or accidentally. Judging by the fury vibrating through him, she wasn’t going to put all of her coins on the latter. His wings were subtly twitching as he fought against whatever instinct was driving him to attack the other male. His jaws snapping, he seemed at a loss for words until suddenly they poured out of him with such vehement hostility that she wondered if biting the poor man would have been less painful to endure.
“You will not! You will not think of setting foot in our nest nor take it upon yourself to do my duty of caring for my mate, Sir Knight Jerard. Not unless you desire me to tear you apart and swallow you in chunks!”
Drathnor’s growled response served its purpose. The knight stumbled back so quickly that he tripped on his own feet and came close to falling to the floor before he regained his balance. He dropped his head in a quick, submissive nod.
“Right. My apologies,” he mumbled. Face ashen, he tripped awkwardly over his words. “I only wish to prove myself worthy and assist however I may. Since, in this matter, you rightfully object, I shall leave you now to see to your mate,” he mumbled as he made his retreat.
The threat of dismemberment and devouring didn’t seem to dim Jerard’s worshipful enthusiasm. What an idiot.
Tania snorted and smirked up at the male carrying her, the ridiculousness of the situation dimming the remaining shadows of terror that had latched its hooks into her.
“You would really eat him, huh?”
Drathnor glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. He regarded her silently for a long moment, but then the corner of his mouth kicked up as he quietly chuffed. A satisfied purr rumbled deep in his chest.
“There is only one human upon whom I would gladly place my mouth, and it is my sweet-tasting female. Human flesh is otherwise unappealing, even if the dismembering might be pleasing. Although for him, I might make an exception and choke it down,” he added with a glower.
Time to distract him from the knight and redirect to a more interesting topic.
“I taste sweet, do I?” she murmured, her thoughts already on their earlier preoccupation in their rooms.
How she wished that they had never embarked out to enjoy the baths.
Recalling the dragon’s tongue and hands exploring her, and the promise of more sensual delights, she yearned for them to replace the creature’s foul touch and taste as it invasively grappled with her. She needed her mate and his dominance to reinforce his care, affection, strength, and his protectiveness in her mind.