The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) Read online

  “I managed without it.” The more worked up everyone else became, the more she found herself withdrawing into the comfort of stoicism.

  “Suffered without it seems the more correct phrasing.”

  “The accident was not of my doing. I did not order the boys to attack.” Clara tensed, instantly wishing she could take the angry words back.

  “They were playing and meant no harm.” Vlad again touched her hip before drawing his fingers away. “We’ll fix this with the medic unit. Next time you’re injured, tell me immediately. None of this I’m a lady nonsense. If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

  Clara didn’t like the look on his face or the censure in his voice. Nonsense? She turned her head down. “As you wish, my lord husband. Always as you wish.”

  * * *

  Vlad stared in frustration at his wife. She refused to look at him and he didn’t want to look at anything else. The bruise on her hip was bad. He’d been injured in battle before and knew the pain she must be in. Luckily, it didn’t appear as if anything was broken. Since she was so thin, it was easy to determine her bone structure.

  The water adhered his clothes to his body but he didn’t care. Clara kept her eyes away and her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t move except for the slight rise and fall of her breathing. It felt like a long time before Arianwen returned to the home. The woman’s steps were abnormally loud, as if giving him warning that she was coming. When she entered the bathroom, she carried an older handheld medic. Their kind rarely needed the equipment, but he made a mental note to requisition a newer model for the village. The mining office was well equipped. There was no reason the village shouldn’t be as well.

  “I need that firewood,” Arianwen said. “The wind hitting the waterfall is coming our way. It feels as if this is going to be a cool night. I can attend Lady Clara.”

  Vlad nodded and slowly got out of the water. Clara still didn’t move. Her face was calm, her breath even. Any reaction he wanted to have seemed silly next to her stoicism. He nodded his thanks to Arianwen as he left the room.

  “Don’t track water all over my house,” Arianwen warned. “You know where to find a change of clothes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Vlad’s words stung even hours after his saying them. Being a lady was not nonsense. It was all she had on this alien world. It is all she’d ever been trained to be. To have him dismiss it hurt worse than her injured hip. The medic unit fixed up her bruised skin quite nicely, but there was no medical setting to cure her bruised feelings.

  One day. That is all she’d been there. One day.

  A year had never felt so long.

  She refused to join Arianwen and her family to dine, pleading fatigue. The men came back from the mines. From what she could hear, there were three of them. They were loud and boisterous and greeted Vlad like a brother. Questions were asked about her, but she didn’t hear Vlad’s answers.

  The small room resembled the rest of the house—tidy and cluttered. Trunks lined the wall, some stacked as tall as three high. A strange statue, humanesque in design but lacking anatomical features, stood guard in the corner. Someone had stabbed it with long, thin metal spikes. The bed in the marriage tent was bigger than the one she now sat on, though the comforter was innately stitched with tiny birds and flowers.

  Arianwen had given her a gown. The blue material was soft and the stitches even, but it resembled her new home world. Nothing was familiar.

  Clara felt isolated and alone. Each time a shout of laughter filtered in from the other room to break her silence the feelings only became worse. Nothing on this planet made sense. Here she was a noblewoman, married to a nobleman who did not act noble. If she hadn’t been assured by the king that Vlad was titled, she would never have believed it.

  Pinching the edge of the blanket, she rolled onto the bed and wrapped it around her body. If she closed her eyes, maybe it would all just go away.

  * * *

  Vlad grinned at the men who were like brothers to him. They had grown up together in this very village, playing outside the mines. Only, as the three brothers Sven, Matus, Nolan went to work in the mines with their father, Tomos, Vlad had been sent to manage them as their overlord. The brothers looked like their father, all strong dragon shifters with dark brown eyes and even darker hair. Their broad shoulders came from honest labor and made them well suited to pushing ore carts on the mine tracks. Had Lord Rolant and Lady Sidone not intervened, this would have been his home and these men his real brothers.

  “I wish you three would see the signs and go find a bride.” Arianwen wiggled her finger at her sons. “It is way past your time for marriage.”

  “And leave you?” Sven shook his head. “Never.”

  “What if the bride can’t cook?” Matus smiled at his mother. He was the charmer. He grabbed a piece of blue bread and took a big bite.

  “I want to get married,” Nolan said. “But they only let us have one bride. I want two or three. When one aggravates you, you can kick her out and invite the next one to your—”

  Sven leaned over and slapped his youngest brother on the back of the head. “That is why you will never receive your sign to go.”

  “Don’t hit your brother,” Arianwen scolded, even though Sven was well into his adult years. To Nolan, she added, “Don’t disrespect our culture or the gods will never make your crystal glow. And, Matus, you’re being too good, so I’ll figure out what you’re up to later. And you,” she turned to Vlad, “wipe that smirk off your face. You only encourage them.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Vlad said, still smiling. He turned his attention to his stew as Arianwen made her way to the kitchen. Matus jabbed him in the ribs. Vlad swatted at the man’s hand, smacking it away before Arianwen caught them misbehaving.

  “One of you should take your father food,” Arianwen said as she came back to the table with another basket of blue bread slices. “Make sure he doesn’t need more help.”

  “I’m going out to the mines tomorrow,” Vlad said. “I want to check on supplies and see the damage from the cave-in.”

  Sven frowned and the mood instantly became serious. “It doesn’t make sense. We had the entire area surveyed before sending the drones in. Luckily, no life was lost, but a drone is trapped behind a wall of rock. We’re digging it out and setting up support beams. Initial readings say the drone acted like it found a hollow pocket in the rock and crashed forward too fast because the controls were set for aggressive digging. Sonar topography from last season’s tests indicated it should be nothing but ore and stone in that section of the mountain.”

  “Is the equipment faulty?” Vlad asked.

  “This is the first sign of it,” Nolan said, doubtful. “Service records are up to date.”

  “Life is priority.” Vlad slowly stood and nodded his thanks to Arianwen for the meal. “I’ll survey it myself. We have a surplus of ore, so it won’t matter if we hold off digging until we figure out what happened.”

  “Huh.” Matus tilted his head. “Do you hear that? It sounds like the ceffyl herd is taking shelter in the forest. They rarely venture this close to the village.”

  “The storm must be worse than we thought,” Arianwen handed a packet of food to Sven. “Better tell your father and the others to come in.”

  Sven obeyed, quickly leaving to do as his mother bid.

  Vlad listened, picking up the sounds of the beasts. They were indeed close. Until Matus mentioned it, he hadn’t been paying attention to the soft noise.

  “Until the morning, friends.” He grinned, thinking of his bride waiting for him. A soft glow came from the room at the end of the hall. As he pushed open the door, he didn’t think about ceffyl herds and mines. His wife lay on the bed, waiting for him. Her body was curled into the blanket, rolled into a tight bundle. She didn’t move as he entered.

  Pulling a string on the wall, he dimmed the light that filtered in from outside until the room was cast in darkness. He saw her outline clearly in the shadows. Wit
hout thought, he pulled out of his clothes and let them drop on the floor. Every sense he had focused on her—the sound of her even breathing, the smell of soap on her skin, the shape of her hip beneath the blanket.

  When he crawled onto the bed, he reached for her and slowly pulled her toward him as if unwrapping his present. She made a soft, sleepy noise. The sound caused his arousal to thicken.

  Once she was on her back, he uncovered her completely and worked her skirt slowly up her legs. She didn’t wear the boots so it was easy to see her thigh and hip. Gently, he touched her, thinking of the bruise. There was still a little discoloration from what he could determine in the darkness, but the medic unit had done wonders in repairing the flesh. He swept his fingers up over her hip to her side before making his way back down again.

  The quiet, intimate moment pulled him in. Nothing else mattered. No thoughts swirled in his brain. This was his blessing, this woman, his wife. All of the newness between them would settle in time. He was sure of it. When he touched her skin, he just knew. This is who he was meant to be with. Forever.

  Vlad inched closer, letting his legs press against hers. Her eyes slowly opened, searching in the darkness but not seeing him. She lifted her hand, not touching him as her wrist ran along his arm. He tugged at the laces on her gown and worked the material until he managed to free her completely. As he pulled the dress over her head, she became more fully awake. Her eyes cleared. He watched her expression. In the dark, it appeared less guarded. Did she not know he could see her?

  She hesitated before lifting her hand to his face. She kept her fingers elongated as she let her wrist smooth over the texture of his jaw. The telltale sound of stubble to delicate flesh caught his attention. Clara made a weak noise and closed her eyes.

  Vlad couldn’t take it. He kissed her, firmly, surely. His hands found freedom on her flesh, roaming wherever they wanted. Fingers palmed a breast, pinched a nipple, and dove between parted thighs. The wet heat of her welcomed his fingers and he pushed one inside her. At the deep probe, she pressed her hands flat to his skin. Warmth erupted where she touched him. He’d felt the sensations before when she’d left the marks on his chest. The marks had faded, but not the memory of the pleasure they represented.

  Wanting to feel their magical tingling elsewhere, he guided her hand down to his shaft and wrapped his hand over hers to help her stroke him. It was better than he’d imagined. Tingling warmth shot down his erection, electrifying his balls with pleasure. He nearly came from one caress but somehow managed to hold back.

  She stroked him again. He tried, but it was too much. Vlad’s hips jerked and he found release on his wife’s hip after two strokes of her hands.

  “Cla-ara,” he grunted. His entire body tensed when she moved her palm over him a third time and he had to pull her hand away.

  Breathing hard, he could barely hear past the pounding of his heart in his ears. Determined not to be the only one feeling such pleasure, he aggressively parted her thighs and opened her up to his mouth. The sweet taste of her cream greeted his lips and he licked her like a starved man. He slipped his tongue inside her before replacing it with his fingers. Sucking at her clit, he stroked her deep and long.

  “Mm, that’s it, Clara,” he said, half words, half moans, against her sex. “Get me wet with you.”

  Her thighs pressed against the sides of his head. He groaned in protest and firmly pushed her legs back open. Clara gasped and dug her heels into the bed. An orgasm tremored through her body. She made a weak noise of pleasure.

  Mindful of where they were, Vlad surged forward and captured her cry in his mouth, stifling it before the others heard them. She caressed his arms with her wrists. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away and taking her wrist in his hand. He drew her palm to his lips and kissed the flesh there. Her fingers flexed and she gasped.

  “Your hands are very soft.” He rubbed his face against her palm. “So much power in them.”

  “Power?” she asked, sounding confused.

  “You don’t feel it?” Even as he spoke, he felt the tingling snap of energy against his cheek.

  “There is nothing special about my hands. They are like any lady’s hands.” She curled her fingers forward and tried to pull away.

  “Our worlds must be very different indeed if you consider anything about yourself ordinary.” He let go of her wrist, watching her expression through the darkness.

  She wiggled and flexed her fingers. Her eyes didn’t focus on anything in particular, though she tried to see his face. “I am what I was raised to be.”

  He wondered at the tone in her voice, but dismissed it as the rise of his desire demanded attention. No more words were spoken as he made love to her slowly. Every inch of her body was explored and touched, most of it even kissed. He took his time, savoring his new bride, thankful to have been blessed with her. A loneliness he’d felt for so long eased. Clara filled a void he didn’t know existed within himself.

  This time they came in unison, a perfect blending of breathed releases and whispering climaxes. Afterwards, Clara tried to move away from him on the bed. He didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her close, holding her back against his chest as he curled his body around hers. He kissed her ear and nuzzled the back of her neck. Words of love filled him, but he didn’t dare break the breathtaking silence that now surrounded them.

  Chapter Nine

  Solarflowers.

  Clara opened her eyes, dazed as to where she was.

  Solarflowers. Solarflowers. Solarflowers.

  She pressed the back of her hand to her head, hoping the pressure would stop the hard pounding of that one guttural word.

  “Solarflowers,” she whispered, blinking hard.

  She pushed off the bed. It was only by luck that her foot tangled into the gown her husband had taken off her the night before. Otherwise, she might not have realized her naked state. She pulled the dress over her body. The throbbing in her head made it hard to see, or concentrate beyond that one thought, Solarflowers.

  Solarflowers.

  Solarflowers.

  Solarflowers.

  Blindly, she stumbled for the bedroom door.

  “Clara?” a sleepy Vlad mumbled behind her.

  “Solarflowers,” she stated.

  “Solar…?” Vlad repeated, confused.

  She ignored him. The home was empty as she made her way through the short hallway toward the front door. The word seemed to echo off the walls. How could everyone sleep through such noise? Instinct told her to escape. She hurried for the door leading outside, not watching where she stepped as she bumped into something only to continue on. Almost desperate, she threw open the door. Her bare feet skidded to a stop and she fell back against the door frame.

  Solarflowers!

  A herd of ceffyls surrounded the house, crowding the street down the block. At her appearance, their eyes seemed to focus in on her. She vaguely noticed people behind the herd, looking and pointing at the animals. The beasts tried to get closer and the image of the flower crowded her mind.

  Solarflowers.

  “Stop,” she begged. “Please, stop…”

  “Clara, what are…?” Vlad came up behind her. “What is this?”

  Vlad blocked her retreat into the house with his body so she instantly slid along the side of the house. She trampled plants beneath her bare feet, but she couldn’t care. The animals’ eyes followed her and they made tiny movements as if they would follow her wherever she went.

  Solarflowers.

  Images bombarded her from the creatures, all of the same flower in different settings. Her mind translated the word echoing it inside her head. She tried to block them out, but they kept coming at her.

  “Get them back!” a man yelled.

  “Are they attacking?” a younger voice asked. “I’ve never seen them act like this.”

  Shaking, Clara realized she was trapped between the creatures and the forest that grew behind Arianwen’s home. She lifted her hands, a
ngling her palms toward the creatures and tried to respond. At first they became more frantic, crowding forward. Hooves thumped on the ground. They tried to surround her. Men yelled in the distance, but the noise of their shouts were far off as the ceffyls persistence drowned out all else.

  “Clara!” Vlad yelled. She opened her eyes briefly to see her husband trying to push his way toward her.

  She didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and pushed an image of the flower back at them. The rush of images slowed when they realized she understood them. She did it again and again, trying to let them know she received their message. Her head throbbed in waves of pain. There were too many voices.

  “Solarflowers,” she whispered. “I understand you want to tell me about solarflowers.”

  Solarflowers.

  “Yes, solarflowers,” she told them. Instantly, the images changed. She couldn’t interpret them, not really. They were jumbled and random, coming from too many minds at once, but there was a desperation to what the ceffyls tried to tell her. Not knowing what to say, she projected the images back at them. This appeared to calm the animals and their intensity lessened.

  “Clara!” Vlad’s voice seemed closer. She felt his hand on her arm. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

  Weakly, she blinked. The animal crowd started to depart, their messages delivered. She swayed on her feet, physically drained and emotionally spent. The beasts took a piece of her with them. She felt herself inside them. There were too many. She couldn’t keep them all out and they had stampeded over her emotions.

  Finding it hard to focus, she looked at Vlad. His face was distorted and beastlike, surely a trick of her mind. She opened her mouth and moaned, “Solarflowers.”

  * * *

  “Solarflowers?” Vlad repeated, confused as he caught his fainting wife. Her body went limp and he lifted her into his arms. He turned, ready to fight off the beasts, but they were dispersing down the village roads toward the forest.