Dragon's Mate [Cairgorm Dragons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

Cairngorm Dragons 1

Dragon's Mate

Braemuir is the chieftain of the Clan and a shape-shifter. He must find a mate and impregnate her before the Gathering of the Clan at the Summer Solstice if he is to stave off a challenge for the leadership.

An unknown black dragon and his mate are trying to get rid of Braemuir in order to keep the Clan treasure for themselves. When Eilidh NicDhoughal mates with Braemuir, she becomes able to shape-shift, too, but being Braemuir’s mate puts a target on her back—and if one of a mated pair dies, the other will die, too.

As Braemuir struggles to keep Eilidh safe from the black dragon’s attempts to dispose of them, a battle ensues amongst the dragons. Just when the identity of the black dragon is finally discovered, Braemuir gets another shock that will change his world forever.

Genre:
Fantasy, Historical, Shape-shifter

Length:
21,828 words
 

Cairngorm Dragons 1

Clair de Lune

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

DRAGON’S MATE

E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-129-9

First E-book Publication: February 2013

Cover design by Christine Kirchoff

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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Dragon’s Mate
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To my five grandchildren…follow your dream!!

DRAGON’S MATE

Cairngorm Dragons 1

CLAIR DE LUNE

Copyright © 2013

Solus changed into his man-shape. Now he was Braemuir of Braemuir. He walked down the main street of the small settlement. There was so much history there, so much violence and death. He could feel it in the very cobbles of the street. It was past time to end the violence, but if he did not find his mate and impregnate her before the summer solstice, there could well be more blood shed on these cobblestones.

He could follow the tendrils of her thoughts as she hurried out of the town and up the hill to the caves. The odd word she muttered to herself was borne to him on the wind. He might be in his man-shape, but his dragon senses were still available to him. He was Braemuir. 

“Stranger. Harm. Hide.”

Those were the fragments he picked up.

S
he is heading to the caves where the ancestors are buried. She thinks hiding there will shield her thoughts from from me. She is my mate! Nothing and no one will shield her thoughts from me!

He had the plaid wound around him and the end thrown over his shoulder in the time-honoured tradition. The huge brooch with the cabochon emerald and the golden dragon held it in place. He strode purposefully down the street, looking neither to the right nor the left. All men avoided his eyes today, all kept out of his way. He was known! He was the laird of the Clan! Usually he was gregarious, but there was something in his countenance, on this day, that made men wary. He was Braemuir of Braemuir after all.

He was six feet four inches tall. His muscular frame was broad at the shoulders and narrow at the waist and hips. His legs were long, lean, and powerful. He was well used to walking great distances. His hair was long, blue-black, and glossy. He wore it pulled back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. He carried a huge broadsword at his hip. It was long and heavy, with a matching cabochon emerald in the hilt. Not many men could lift that sword, let alone wield it in combat! None had ever bested
him
in combat, hence Oidhche’s machinations.

Oidhche, black as the night his Gaelic name suggested, was a huge male dragon, with malevolent yellow eyes. But who was Oidhche? That was what Braemuir would like to know. He was of the Clan. He had to be! Whose was the treacherous mind behind the huge black dragon? Now that was a mystery. If Braemuir knew, he could deal with the man. So far, glimpses of the dark mind had been afforded to Braemuir, but no more. He suspected that Oidhche was someone closer to him than he cared to admit to himself. If Oidhche faced him in a fair fight, Braemuir would win. Oidhche’s mind-shield was very powerful, but not so powerful that Braemuir couldn’t penetrate it, provided he could trace the man. What Oidhche couldn’t obtain by fair means he was attempting to take by foul. Knowing he could never hope to gain the upper hand in a fair fight, he had resorted to trickery.

Braemuir was angry with himself for being so taken in. He had been led by the cock, by the Egg! Ciarda had been Oidhche’s creature all along and Braemuir hadn’t had the wit to see it. Ciarda was a voluptuous creature. Her figure was delightful, lush, and curvy. She was of medium height with black hair. Her name meant “dark” in Gaelic and she certainly had dark desires. She had misled him, fucked him, and left him because he’d refused to beat her as she liked. Was he being led by the cock now? He didn’t think so. His mind ranged forward and made fleeting contact with Eilidh’s as she fled to try and hide from him. No, he was sure he wasn’t! There was an innocence and a candour about the feel of her mind that had never been there in Ciarda’s mind. He increased his pace.

Leaving the small settlement behind, he climbed the slope easily. He could have shifted back to his dragon but chose not to. He had iron control over his man and his dragon but didn’t want to frighten
her
. It would be soon enough to reveal all he was, when he had mated with her. He came to the entrance to the caves and perceived she had only just entered. Calling forth his dragon senses, he used the superb sight he possesed to locate her heat source and headed straight for it. As he approached, he sensed her panic, so he radiated soothing thoughts and soon calmed her fears.

“Come to me, my love, my Eilidh!” he said aloud, his voice seductive and compelling.

She fought his control, but she was no match for him. Her resistance lasted longer than he expected. She would make him a worthy mate, he thought. Eventually, she left the wall she had been trying to blend in with and, on reluctant feet, approached him.

“Come into the light, Eilidh!” he said, his tone low and caressing. His voice had a wide range, from seductive purr to enraged bellow. She wouldn’t be hearing the bellow. She wasn’t able to resist the seductive purr, coupled as it was with the subtle compulsion he exerted over her. Soon she, and only she, would be able to compel him to her will. If she learned how.

He was not going to reveal that to her willingly!

* * * *

Eilidh found herself walking forward, toward the huge warrior. She couldn’t see him clearly, silhouetted as he was against the light of the sun. She didn’t want to abandon the comfort of the cave wall at her back. Nevertheless, abandon it she did. Something compelled her to go to him. Why did she go to him? She felt the compulsion of his mind, calling her, but it was more than that. She felt this man would never harm her, on the contrary, he’d complete her. There was something missing inside her. She’d never realised that before. He would fill that void, she was sure.

“Who are you? What do you want of me?” she asked.

“I am Braemuir of Braemuir.”

She gasped. She’d heard of his prowess on the field of battle, and with women. He was a legendary warrior. The number of women who
said
he’d bedded them was astonishing, if it was true. She had caught glimpses of him in the settlement. She and her family had never had any direct dealings with him. Now he was here and wanting her.

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

He had retreated from the cave mouth, out into the light and she followed him, whether she would or not.

Braemuir dwarfed her!
She has such plump, firm, full breasts. Her waist is narrow but her hips are wide. Ideal for childbearing
.

Why did I think that now?
Then she realised it had been his thought she’d caught before he suppressed it.
How could that be?
She blushed. She knew her face must be fiery red.

What beautiful hair she has in that long, neat braid hanging down her back. It shines chestnut, with red highlights, in the sun. Her heart-shaped face holds a pair of wide-set grey eyes, as grey as the stormy sea of Skye.
She caught more of his thoughts before they were quickly suppressed.
Her nose is so small and pert. Her cheeks are as plump as apples. What a wide, generous mouth with lips as red as cherries. Lips that beg to be kissed.
His next thought shocked her.
“You’re my mate. I’ve come to claim you.”