The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) Read online

  “I am very happy to hear the wilderness does not frighten you. I admit your words last night had me worried, when you said you did not venture outside often.” He wondered if she heard him. Her eyes were transfixed on where he touched her hand. “You must forgive me for the assumption. I was wrong to question the will of the gods.”

  * * *

  Clara could barely breathe. Each stroke of Vlad’s finger against her palm and wrist sent strange little sensations of awareness down her arm. It came in steady waves, curling along her body to settle in her stomach. There was intimacy in that simple gesture, in the texture of skin against skin.

  “You are so composed,” he said.

  Clara tried to thank him for the compliment, but it didn’t bring the pleasure the word sweet had. A voice in the back of her brain warned her about maintaining that composure. It was in the middle of the morning. This was not the time for intimacy.

  “Your hands are so soft, as if you never touch anything.”

  “I am female,” she answered logically. On her world that would instantly be understood. She couldn’t very well go around reading people’s most intimate thoughts. If they wanted her to know something, they would tell her.

  “Yes,” he mused, “you are very much a female.”

  Vlad pulled her hand to the center of his chest and held it over his heart. The beat replaced the stroking rhythm of his fingers. With his free hand, he pulled at her hair, loosening the artfully placed clasps she had hidden to hold the style in place. Slowly, tresses fell around her shoulder. The inner voice of warning grew fainter until she couldn’t hear it. Her focus narrowed until the only thing she could see was the look of her hand against his warm chest. The steady thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart caused her eyes to close in concentration.

  A finger brushed her bottom lip. She sucked in a deep breath and held it. Her hand rested on his chest by its own accord and he leaned toward her. He skimmed his fingers along her scalp, holding her head. The touch on her mouth disappeared only to be replaced by the heat of his breath fanning over her cheek.

  With a gasp, she opened her eyes. She started to speak but he pressed his lips next to hers, cutting off anything she might have said. His kiss was gentle, soft, dry. He slowly drew his mouth along hers, not parting his lips as he swept a trail from the corner of her mouth to her ear.

  “I would inspect my bride again,” he whispered. He closed his lips around the lobe of her ear, turning his caress from dry to moist.

  Clara pressed her legs tightly together and swallowed nervously. A pulsing began along her sex to keep time with his heart. It was a tiny flutter of a sensation but it was there. The same pleasures that had made her lose her ladylike composure the night before came rushing back to confuse her.

  As he ventured his lips back toward her mouth, he placed tiny kisses to her cheek. By the time his mouth again found hers, her lips were open and she breathed heavily. His eyes remained closed and she stared at him. The wet probe of his tongue slipped between her lips. The tactile vibrations were so overwhelming that Clara made a weak, spontaneous noise of pleasure. Vlad answered with a moan of his own.

  Clara pulled away from him at the sound. He blinked, his gaze meeting hers. She realized she clutched at his tunic shirt. He held her head in his hands.

  “We should monitor our—”

  Her husband interrupted her words with another kiss and deeper moan.

  Clara couldn’t think. He pressed his hands to her back, lifting her off the bed by small degrees as he worked her dress up. She wasn’t sure how, but within seconds her thighs were exposed. Vlad pulled back, artfully taking her dress with him. Her arms were forced up as he undressed her. Cool air hit her flesh, puckering her nipples. The waist wrap undergarment covered her sex. The soft material was designed to protect her skin from metal frame of her large underskirt. Rows of small hooks ran down each hip where the frame normally fastened.

  Vlad’s gaze traveled over her. A strange smile came to his lips as he looked at her high boots. The Draig gown didn’t require the extra support, but she’d worn them for the familiar stiff comfort against her skin.

  His eyes stayed on the footwear. He hurriedly tugged his tunic over his head while using his feet to work out of his boots at the same time. He threw the shirt on the bed.

  Clara tried to concentrate, knew she needed to say something proper and good. Instead, she found herself staring at his naked chest. Muscles rippled beneath the skin. Before she’d tried to keep her eyes off of him, but then the wedding had not been completed. Now she was his wife. She was expected to perform wifely duties.

  “It is daylight,” she said weakly, nearly incoherent as to her own protests.

  “It normally is here,” he answered with a small expressive laugh.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Clara took a deep breath. Marital acts were normally held at night, but if there was no night…

  The logic that tried to pervade was once again interrupted. He leaned forward and she had no choice but to crawl back on the bed as he came over her.

  “You are very beautiful, wife,” he whispered.

  She hesitated before reaching up to touch him. The heat of his skin caused her nerves to jump in excitement. Mesmerized, she let her palms run along his chest muscles. Tingling erupted between her thighs.

  Vlad kept his weight on his hands as he moved to kiss her neck. Her hands became trapped against him and she couldn’t pull away. One of his nipples stood next to the small webbing of her fingers.

  He nudged her booted legs with his knees, parting them. She didn’t resist. The rush of sensations was too much for her to process. Each brush of flesh became a vivid crescendo of pleasure and uncertainty. The wrap slid up her waist to expose her hips.

  Her mind couldn’t make sense of what she felt. He touched her face, her neck, her sides and breasts. Each brush of body sent wave after wave of sensations over her. The material of his pants faded into flesh, yet she couldn’t distinguish how it happened. She curled her toes against the hard bottoms of the boots, wishing they would disappear like his clothing. They remained laced tightly to her legs.

  Sometimes, like now, when she looked at him she saw his eyes flash with gold. She wondered at the genetic abnormality of such a change. Her people’s eyes shifted in color so that was not so strange, but normally it was a woman thing, and never to such a large degree. Perhaps that was how his powers revealed themselves, making her want him, making her body burn with desire and need, making her mind lose all logic. So help her, she didn’t care. Power or not, real or no, it felt amazing and she didn’t want it to stop.

  His hips kept her legs open as he moved over her. The hard probe of his body slipped along her sex. She tensed at the intimate contact, aware of what would happen and ready for it. Correction. She thought she was ready. Vlad’s arousal pressed inside her. Her entire body tensed and shook. The pleasure radiated throughout her length. Then he moved and the gratification became more intense. It concentrated between her thighs. His chest pressed into her tingling hands.

  Clara didn’t want it to end. She wanted to explore her feelings completely. But it was over before she had the chance to process everything.

  Her entire body tensed, each muscle becoming tight. She shook violently. Vlad made a noise in the back of his throat as he stiffened above her. She blinked heavily, her eyes blurring in flashes of light and color. As suddenly as it came, the tension left her. Her limbs felt weak in the aftermath of intense pleasure. When her mind began to clear, Vlad lay next to her on the bed.

  His hand rested on her thigh, near the top of her boot and he toyed with the laces. “I find your footwear fascinating.”

  Clara couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Her mind raced to remember what she’d said, how she’d acted, if she’d yelled so loud anyone near the tent could hear her.

  “We lose time,” she said weakly. “If we are to walk, we should go.”

&nb
sp; “There is no hurry.” Vlad’s tone was suggestive.

  Clara sat up, unsure what to do with the overly intimate moment. The mad rush of pleasure had subsided and, though her bones felt as if they were liquid and a strange relaxation came to her muscles, she had time to monitor herself and her behavior. There was only one conclusion. She had not acted like a lady.

  “We cannot remain in this tent. It is not a proper inhabitance.” Clara placed her booted feet on the ground and grabbed the Qurilixian gown. “The traditional night is over. Now it is time we acted like lord and lady, as is intended.”

  “I will have to go to the stables to fetch another ceffyl.” Vlad moved behind her but she didn’t look at him.

  Clara nodded and began the long process of pulling her hair back into place on top of her head. Suddenly, Vlad was standing in front of her. He wore pants but his chest was bare. Touching her elbow, he drew her hand away from her hair.

  “Leave it down.” He touched her cheek, brushing his thumb over her flesh. “And this white covering is not necessary. You have a lovely face. You do not need to hide it.”

  Her eyes drifted to his chest, drawn to two very pronounced red imprints of her hands. She gasped and balled her hands into fists. “I apologize. I…”

  Vlad glanced down and chuckled as he absently scratched at one of her handprints by his nipple. “I have no complaints, wife. Whatever it is you did was very enjoyable.”

  Clara had no idea what she had done, but those were her handprints on him as if burned into his chest. “You should fetch the new ceffyl.” She artfully skirted around him and went toward the tent opening. Her hair felt strange against her back as it stirred in the breeze. She shouldn’t go outside without a companion, but she did not wish to remain alone with him—not when he looked at her like that with those expressive eyes of his.

  Chapter Seven

  “Alek is not going to be happy when he discovers we gave the ceffyl solarflowers.” Vlad attempted yet again to draw his bride into conversation. They’d traveled for hours. He didn’t mind the silence, but he also enjoyed hearing her voice.

  “His terms were clear,” Clara stated. She sat on the back of the beast, her legs to the side, her ankles crossed. Despite the lumbering movements, she managed to stay stiff and upright on top of the creature. “He too wanted the solarflower as payment. He did not seek us out. Who are we to say what this creature may or may not eat?”

  “At this pace we should be nearing the village in a few hours.” Vlad walked briskly beside her on the wide red-gray path, liking the faster pace of exercise. The fresh air, the surrounding mountains, the ease of nature, they filled him with hope and anticipation for the future. Mountain peaks spread out over the distance, forming a surreal view with jagged tops piercing the green-tinted sky. From their vantage point on the path, he could see well into the distance. There was so much space, so many wonderful miles of nature and freedom. The higher up the mountain they rode, the grayer the earth would become until there was no red tint left.

  “Village?” Clara asked. “Is that what you call the city surrounding your castle?”

  Vlad chuckled. He couldn’t quit smiling. “No, it is the place where I was born. I want you to meet friends of my parents.”

  “So we will stay in their castle?”

  “Their home,” he corrected. The light had brightened as they walked over the endless mountain paths. Unlike the forest by the ceremonial grounds, the trees here were skinny with thick, willowy tops. “Or the forest.”

  “A castle in the forest?” she persisted.

  He stopped walking. “Not every shelter is called a castle.”

  “I know what a castle is.” Her ceffyl kept moving, lumbering along the worn path. The trails snaked off in several directions, winding into the many distances. “I speak the star language fluently.”

  “Not all our homes are castles.”

  “Manors then? Estates?” She nodded. “A manor will suffice. Anywhere so long as it is a noble residence will be satisfactory. I assume my belongings will be forwarded to our new location, as I do not have enough gowns with me to properly represent my station.”

  Vlad’s smile faltered some. His wife was a contradiction. As his bride, chosen by the gods, she should be his perfect match. His perfect match would not be adverse to camping in the forest or staying with commoners. However, when Clara spoke she seemed almost elitist. He again found himself wanting to make excuses for her, but it was becoming harder.

  “The people we are to stay with are good people,” he said, thinking of the seamstress, Arianwen, and her husband, Tomos. They had three sons, all miners like their father. Tomos had worked the mines with Vlad’s parents. He’d been part of the rescue crew that found their bodies. In many ways, Vlad wished Tomos had been the one to adopt him, but instead Lord Rolant and Lady Sidone had taken him in. How could he refuse the opportunity to serve the miners? With his adoptive status came the office of High Mining Official.

  Clara didn’t answer.

  Almost desperately, he wanted to keep her in conversation. He wanted to connect to her beyond the physical lust he felt even now. There had to be something beneath her ladylike calm and statuesque appearance. He’d seen glimpses of her personality trying to emerge.

  Nervous? Maybe she was just nervous and that is why she acted the way she did.

  “What are sun shots?” he asked.

  “Sun shots?” Her face changed into a look of mild surprise. It took some observation, but if he paid attention he could read her microexpressions. “They are what keep my skin from being changed by sunlight. You don’t use them?”

  “No need. The sun doesn’t adversely affect my skin.” He found his gaze on her neck, taking in the creamy flesh he found there. She did have delightfully seductive skin. His fingers twitched, remembering all too well the delicate feel of her against him. The heavy lift of his arousal pressed forward and he was glad the longer tunic of his shirt hid the reaction. Although…

  Vlad glanced to the nearby forest. They were alone and it was a gorgeous day. Had anyone or anything been close by he’d have heard them.

  “Is there something in the forest?” Clara asked, stiffly following his eyes.

  Vlad cleared his throat. “No. I was just, ah, no.”

  She relaxed.

  “Your skin is very beautiful,” he said, again looking at her neck. He liked kissing her there, near the pulse. It had sped beneath his lips, attesting to the pleasure she felt when he touched her.

  “Thank you. My handmaids apply a special cream each morning before I awake, which reminds me that I will require at least three servants—two handmaids and a companion for when I leave the noble residence.”

  Vlad arched a brow before he could stop himself.

  “Or two,” she quickly amended at the look, “if three are too many. A handmaid can act as a companion as well.”

  He didn’t answer, unsure what to say. It didn’t feel right soliciting for servants. Those who served chose that life path. No one asked them to do it.

  “Or one?” Clara seemed worried by the thought of only one. “I will take care of their salary, of course. There is little shame in a noble household that is without means. It happens. It is the bloodline that matters.”

  Vlad changed his mind. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He lifted his hand to the ceffyl’s horn and tapped it a couple times. The beast moved faster, cutting off the conversation, and Vlad began to run alongside it.

  * * *

  Despite what she had said, Clara was very glad she didn’t have to walk up the mountains. The journey was longer than she’d anticipated. For some reason, she’d thought Vlad would live closer to the palace.

  To discover her noble husband had little money was disheartening. It only proved how valuable her mother’s insight had been when she’d hidden jewels and space credits in her daughter’s trunk and gown. Surely she could afford one servant with plenty of money left over. Commoners would be grateful for the work
in a noble home.

  Vlad had been running for miles, but he hardly seemed fazed by the exercise. It took nearly all of Clara’s concentration and balance to remain on the ceffyl’s back. When Vlad’s pace slowed, the animal beneath her instantly adjusted to match. Vlad took several deep breaths as he glanced around the forest. The trail had narrowed when they’d ventured into the trees. Willowy limbs swayed overhead, creating a canopy of shade. Tiny specks of light danced on the forest floor littered with tiny plants. Bright blue birds dove from the tree limbs, attacking something she couldn’t see on the ground. Each time they swooped close to her she jolted a tiny bit, startled by the blurry movement. Suddenly, a tiny laugh sounded from behind the trees to interrupt the blue bird’s soft, low shrill.

  “What was that?” Clara whispered. “I heard something.”

  “Just now?” Vlad looked at her in surprise. “The village boys have been stalking us for nearly three miles.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They’re boys.” Vlad gave a dismissive gesture.

  “And…?” she prompted.

  “Boys stalk things in the forest,” he said. “You have several brothers. I’m sure you know how boys play.”

  “No. We were segregated during those times.” Clara jerked as she heard another laugh. This time it was louder.

  “You’re getting better, but not good enough,” Vlad yelled. “Now come out and greet my wife, little dragons.”

  A group of boys instantly converged upon them like the raining of savage, yelling monkeys. Several fell down from the trees ahead of her on the path. Others jumped into view. One rolled from behind a rock. Their eyes glowed as she’d seen Vlad’s do, with varying shades of gold in their depths. Each brandished a weapon of sorts—sticks, stones tied to strings, a handful of pebbles—and screeched an ungodly loud battle cry. Clara gasped in fright. The high-pitched sound startled the ceffyl whose shifting movement made her lose her balance. Since a lady touched as little as possible with her hands, Clara hadn’t been holding on. She slid off the ceffyl’s back, flailing in panic before thudding painfully on the moist ground.