To Desire a Dragon: (a.k.a. DRAGON HOOKER) (Venys Needs Men) Page 7

  “We shall sleep,” he orders.

  I exhale in a rush.

  I begin unwrapping my boots, a process Halki finds fascinating. I unplait my hair and generally get comfortable while staying as dressed as possible. Then I scoot under the blankets on my bench.

  Halki frowns—not at me, but the bench he expects to share. “Too small,” he mutters to himself, raising his head and taking an imperious look at the lodgehouse’s contents. What remains of them after a zany dragon all but hollowed it out, that is.

  He stalks over (so naked, everything swings) to someone else’s bench and appropriates it, lifting it like it isn’t made of heavy planks of timber. But when he sets it down against mine, he isn’t satisfied.

  He grunts at it. “No bedding.”

  “We have mine—”

  “Not enough,” he declares firmly.

  I widen my eyes at him. “How much do you need?”

  “We need a most comfortable nest.” He prowls to the door and draws the flap back, glowering when he receives whistles and rowdy shouts.

  The gawkers are enjoying his frontal show probably as much as I’m appreciating my view of his behind.

  “We require bedding,” he informs them stonily.

  “I volunteer!” several voices shout.

  “I’ll bed you anytime,” comes another offer.

  “Blankets. We need blankets,” Halki clarifies with a glare, crossing his arms over his chest—which only accentuates the thrust of his hips and the placement of his wide-set feet. His back muscles tighten too, and I’m struck dumb and drool a little as I ogle him shamelessly without him knowing. His body is lithe and powerful and proud.

  And my tribeswomen are salivating for him.

  Heck, I’m salivating for him. Are we really going to sleep beside each other and do nothing else?

  I’m so busy wondering if I can keep my hands to myself that I miss what’s spoken between Halki and my tribesisters, but he gets his blankets. He slaps the door flap down and his feet pound the floor as he makes his way back to our benches.

  He’s muttering to himself. “Those females are in desperate need for male attention.”

  “They are,” I confirm. “Know of any single males who want to give them attention? Perhaps you have a brother or two you can toss to them?”

  Halki pauses, a considering look flashing over his face. “I do have brothers I would feed to these she-sharks.”

  “Really?”

  He clucks his tongue, in agreement I guess, and he rolls out the blankets he demanded until he’s basically satisfied. He still says we don’t have enough for a proper nest, but he says this will do for tonight.

  With that, his thigh bunches, and his knee mounts the bench.

  Where else am I supposed to look? Of course I’m staring at his front and center. My mouth has gone dry. This dragon is hung.

  Halki’s warm fingers cup my cheek, making me jump. My eyes guiltily fly up to his to find he’s staring down at me with something both pleased and almost tender. “Your gaze, drhema, is more rewarding than all the treasure I’ve caved in a lifetime.”

  I’m sure I heard him correctly but I still don’t understand. “‘Caved?’”

  “Collected. All treasure is stowed in a cave. Thus, we say caved to mean gathered and stored.”

  “Ah. Who knew?”

  “Dragons.” He rises up on the bench, fully kneeling on it now with both knees and an open lap, and through a supreme effort of willpower, I keep my gaze on his and not what he was trying to get me to touch earlier in the latrine. “Let us be well rested over the night so that we will be fresh for your sibling’s liberation on the morrow.”

  Immediately, my thoughts fill with Jöran. I swallow, feeling my face bump Halki’s hand with the movement. “Thank you again for agreeing to save him,” I start.

  Halki moves over me, closes his arms around me, and hauls me up until we’re chest to chest, our gazes locked. “My mate has asked me for help and I will give it. Thank me no more, drhema.”

  ‘My cherished one. My mate. You.’ It’s hard to wrap my head around how quickly I went from single, normal tribeswoman to being mated to a dragon, but I’m less and less shocked every time he refers to us this way. As he draws us down on our sides and strokes his big fingers through my hair, the more and more I’m embracing the concept of Halki being all mine for as long as we live.

  Then Halki lifts his hand from where he had it wrapped around my middle, and he reaches over me to position something at my back.

  I close my eyes and try to will myself not to comment on it, but my effort gets overridden by my pesky aversion. “Did you just make your casting touch me?”

  I twitch when surprisingly soft lips make contact with my forehead. “Yes, and here are our feathers.” He spreads all the little feather-rinds down on me, the curly Sebastopol’s leavings becoming a decoration all over me as he draws a blanket over the both of us and murmurs a pleased, “Good night, my precious drhema.”

  Something about his voice and his endearment fills me up so nicely that I sigh and snuggle deeper under the blanket, bumping against his hard, warm body which feels reassuring and good—and do my best to block out the vomit brick at my back.

  Dragons are two cranks past insane… but they’re nice.

  CHAPTER 13

  Nalle

  We’re up before dawn. Halki lights the wick of a candle by puffing a burst of flame on it, which succeeds in lighting the wick, but also melts the tallow of the candle, sending the hot wax splattering on his arm and hand.

  “Krevk’d!” he hisses.

  Eyes blurry with sleep, I sit up in a rush. “Are you all right?”

  He chuffs and glances at me. “Yes, I’m fine.” He turns his limb, examining the wax that’s drying on him. “It surprised me more than it did any damage. Thankfully, my scales must do some protecting. More than a regular human’s skin, I’m sure.”

  I rub at my face. “Better your arm than any other free-swinging part of you,” I mumble.

  Halki barks a laugh. He hauls me up, shocking my eyes open, and draws me right to his face.

  He plants his lips over mine and inhales.

  I try to fit my hand between our mouths. “I need to use my tooth stick,” I warn him. “My breath must be terrible.”

  His nostrils flare. “You smell good to me, drhema.”

  My belly warms but I plant my hands on his shoulders and urge him to release me.

  He does. “I need to visit your latrine. Will you join me?”

  “With or without you, that’s my first stop,” I say, yawning behind my hand.

  Halki takes my other one to help me off the bench. It’s such a gallant gesture—one I’ve never seen the likes of. Men don’t need to assist women anywhere. If they did, we’d be in a pretty hopeless situation because it’s not like there’s a helpful man waiting around every corner. It’s lucky if you have one helpful man in all of your tribe.

  I stare up at Halki, really feeling that he’s not only a helpful man—he’s my man.

  “I don’t know why you’re looking at me thus,” Halki utters in a deep, rough-edged voice that makes my lower spine sing, “but keep your attention on me this way and we’ll be late retrieving your brother.”

  I’m ashamed at the split-second pause—but I break eye contact.

  Halki exhales a breath into my hair, his mouth close enough to brush my crown. “Let’s relieve ourselves and prepare to be on our way. The sooner we complete our journey, the sooner we can be joined here.”

  Taking his hand, I tell him, “I like the sound of that.”

  We walk hand-in-hand to the latrine. It’s too early in the morning for anyone but the tribesisters who are sentrying as shepherdesses to notice us, and they’re too tired to care about the still quite naked Halki strolling with me through the village like the breeze and morning chill are nothing on his excessive assets.

  This time, Halki doesn’t offer for me to touch him when we enter the l
atrine, and he takes control of himself fine, loudly making a steaming stream against a support pole as I pass him on the way to the pit in the floor.

  After we finish, I’m more awake thanks to the brisk walk to and from my lodgehouse, and it’s quick work after that to wash up, change to journey clothes, and grab packs.

  “Should we tell the others that we are leaving?” Halki asks.

  “We’ll do it now,” I say distractedly. “We need to get you clothes.”

  Halki jerks back like I’ve… well, like I’ve recommended that we bind up his lower half, which is what I’m suggesting. Or at least cover him so that he’s not hanging out like he is.

  “Clothing?” he chokes out. “Why? It will only be lost when I change.”

  I huff. “Fine, but when you’re in human form, you need to start wearing a loincloth or something. We’ll get one from Yatanak.”

  We do get one from Yatanak, but Halki’s disapproval is thick and implacable. Also, him fitting on the tiny scrap of cloth doesn’t lessen the tribe’s bawdy reaction to him. To be fair, there’s still so much of him on display.

  “We’re leaving,” I tell them. “We’re getting Jöran back and—” I have to raise my voice over the din. No one wants to send me off alone.

  “She is not alone; she has me,” Halki reminds them—and with that, he shifts into his dragon form, sending his loincloth fluttering to the ground. Nostril shields flat against his snout, he retrieves it by pinching it between his claws and holding it out to me like if I’m going to make him wear this, then I can be the one who carries it around.

  I shrug and stuff it into my pack. Then I clap my hands together and eye his shoulders. “Time to ride a dragon.”

  Halki snorts and catches me between his hands. “Not until we practice thoroughly. For now, I will carry you this way.”

  And with that, we set off.

  ***

  We burst into Qippik tribe’s village only to find… emptiness.

  There are fires with still-warm coals. There are animals who look freshly fed and watered. But no one is shepherding them. The lanes between sod houses are silent, and not one person is in sight.

  The village is so much smaller than I imagined too. There are maybe ten sod huts, all smaller than any one of my tribe’s lodgehouses.

  And everything is so clean and orderly. There aren’t bones scattered everywhere, the remains of men and boys lying desiccated under the hot sun.

  If I didn’t know where we were, I would think the settlement looked peaceful and—I curl my lip to think it—nice.

  Halki shifts into a man.

  When I glance up at him, he shrugs. “Easier to move this way.”

  Without a word, I pass him his loincloth.

  He grimaces and brings it around his hips like I’ve handed him strips of slimy raw bacon, not fabric.

  I almost snicker, but I’m too on edge. Together, we creep further into the base of evil, peering into sod houses, seeing clean, well-kept dwellings with absolutely no one inside.

  “This is creepy,” I whisper.

  “I smell a scent reminiscent of yours. Male. Up ahead,” Halki shares. “I think it’s the grass-house on the left.”

  The largest sod house in the place, he means.

  I’m breathing through my mouth by the time we’ve slinked up to it, my chest wall is taking a beating better than the stretched top of a goblet drum, and sweat has broken out all over me. Where is everybody and what have they done to Jöran?

  Halki jerks his head at the door, a silent question in his gaze.

  I gesture for him to knock it open.

  With a surprisingly violent kick of his bare five-clawed foot, he does.

  Muffled screams ring out as Halki and I force our way inside and find—

  Jöran, naked, in the middle of tying a furious also-naked woman up. Except he’s not simply tying her hands and feet. No, he’s done disturbing things with the rope, making it cross over her breasts and running it between her legs and his fist is wrapped around two lengths of it that stretch tight over a very specific part of her crotch.

  This is an erotic-flavored capture.

  “Eww,” I whimper, covering my eyes. “I’m not seeing my brother like this, I’m not seeing my brother like this...”

  “Here,” Halki says with a huge smile. “Take my loincloth.”

  “Thanks,” Jöran mutters, taking it. He’s staring at Halki and then at me, and then back at Halki.

  I cast my eyes around us while he puts the loincloth on, and I see why the village is empty. All of the women must be here. The youngest is maybe eighteen, the oldest maybe Yatanak’s age. Each and every one of them is tied up in a similar manner to the woman Jöran is currently paying attention to, and all of them aren’t wearing a stitch.

  Not unless you count the hemp rope. And ugh, the friction they must be feeling…

  But they took my brother. He’s naked, for goodness’ sake. If they’re uncomfortable, they deserve it; they deserve whatever he’s done to them. I clear my throat. “Jöran, this is Halki—”

  “We are mated,” Halki informs him with an impressive amount of threat for as levelly as he delivers the news.

  “—and we’re here to rescue you,” I finish weakly.

  Jöran looks between us. His mouth quirks, and he sends me a smile. “Thanks, Nalle.” He reaches out and ruffles my hair.

  I’m having trouble processing. “I saw this all going differently. I thought you’d desperately need our help to get free and come home.”

  My brother laughs softly. “Why don’t you help me round up my women instead? I’m missing two.”

  “Your women?”

  Jöran smiles, and it’s a masculine, powerful thing. For the first time, I really see him. Not as my little brother that I’ve always protected. Not an innocent brat of a boy whom I love to over-mother. A man. Jöran is a full-grown man.

  With debauched pride evident in his voice, he says, “Meet my naughty harem.”

  I want to shudder at his words. But the evidence is all around us: these women did not get in this state because they were making wholesome appleleaf tea with him.

  Apparently, whatever they were doing to land them here in ropes is the result of my brother teaching said harem a lesson. My brother flashes a raffish grin at two dozen sets of disbelieving (and some furious) eyes. “I warned you to behave.”

  I wave my hands in the air. “So you’re not desperate to escape them? What about the young men they left dead on the plains?” I wheeze, thinking of those bodies, disgusted that I’m feeling relief because that fate wasn’t also my brother’s.

  Jöran loses his smile. “What was done to those men wasn’t what you think, Nalle.” His gaze bores into mine before he gestures to a group of girls that I didn’t realize were even here. He’s left them untied, and they’re huddled together behind everyone else, looking terrified of me.

  I shift in surprise—but none of their attention moves with me. Oh. They’re terrified of Halki behind me. I glance up at him to see he’s hulking over me a little, and with his strange eyes and his scales instead of regular skin, he does look a little frightening.

  I silently snort to myself, thinking, You should see him when he’s full dragon.

  Jöran continues, “No one bothered to ask my women why those males were staked out to die. Know this,” Jöran’s face turns harder, colder, “they deserved to be left out for the jackals to pick clean.”

  And then my brother is enveloping me in a hug. And for the first time, I acknowledge the bulk he has to his body. He’s muscled and full-framed and taller than me by a head and a half and he’s… all grown up.

  Jöran isn’t my ‘little’ brother anymore.

  I suppose he hasn’t been for a long time.

  He draws away, giving me a gentle smile. “Thank you for storming to my rescue, Nalle. And I’d appreciate it greatly if you can help me tie up a couple of loose ends.”

  A few of his women growl, making his
smile widen.

  “Let’s go find my troublemakers,” Jöran says.

  CHAPTER 14

  HALKI

  With my sensitive nose, we have no trouble rounding up the two women hiding from their mate. I find them in a little house covered with grass and dirt, and it’s no trouble to step inside and raise a wide, flat platform that holds a down-filled bed, revealing the two females flattened underneath it like pillbugs.

  Nalle’s brother chuckles as he hunkers down and pets one of them. Then he catches them both by the wrist and hauls them up.

  They spit at him and struggle, but at no time are they afraid of him. (Afraid of me, yes, at least initially. But not of their mate.)

  Nalle seems shellshocked as she watches her brother haul one woman over his shoulder and spank his hand against her flank, making her scream obscenities. To his other female, he smirks and crooks a finger.

  Mutely, she slinks up to him—and Nalle’s eyes go wide when her brother leans down and roughly takes the woman’s mouth.

  Her fingers dig into his sides and they only break apart because the woman draped over his shoulder smacks him on his hindcheek.

  “When my sister leaves, I’m going to make you apologize properly for that,” Nalle’s brother warns/promises his woman. He turns and carries her out of the hut, keeping his other woman secured by linking her fingers between his.

  I like the look of the hold. I reach out to Nalle and knit our fingers just the same.

  Nalle glances at me sharply, but then her expression softens, and she sends me an overwhelmed smile.

  When all of Nalle’s brother’s harem is where he wants them to be, he turns to his sibling and places his hands on her small shoulders. “I think you’ve picked up on the fact that I want to stay here.”

  Nalle blinks up at him, reluctance warring with a bit of disbelief and a lot of shock.

  “I’m happy here, Nalle. I can see you’re struggling to understand how that is, but just trust me. I have this all well in hand.”