Shades Of Dragon (A BBW Dragon-Shifter Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

      “I’m hoping it’s a survivor,” Ciara whispered firmly, clutching his elbow as she followed him outside. They began walking down the street, constantly watching, scoping the area to see if anyone was there, but they heard no one, saw nothing.

      “Wait!” someone shouted in the distance. “Are you sure there are no survivors? What about the mayor’s house? I heard he has a daughter. Have any of you found her? She’d be worth a lot.”

      Tegan froze at the sound of a voice he knew very well.
Prophet
– Drake’s right hand man, one of the highest standing dragon shifters in the Redwater Clan. Heart galloping wildly, he grabbed Ciara and pushed her behind him, then carefully peered around the building to find several dragon shifters standing in the square, piled around the bodies.

      “I haven’t seen anyone,” one of the dragon shifters growled, his hands on his hips. He was wearing leather armor with a stamp of an emblem depicting a talon surrounded by flames –
a member of the Firewalker Clan
, Tegan realized with dread. “And we’ve searched the whole damned place twice over now.”

      “Do you take me for some kind of fool?” Prophet roared. He glowered down at the other shifter, his arms folded across his massive chest. He was a very intimidating man, with short black hair, and wild eyes that were the color of pitch, his body built like a behemoth. “Someone took the time to gather up all these people in the square, and it wasn’t you or me,” he snarled. “Find the one who did it, and bring them to me.”

“But Prophet,” the man replied with a snarl. “It was likely one of our own, rounding up bodies to make sure there were no survivors or men worthy of trade. Why are we wasting time?”

“Don’t you dare defy me!” Prophet bellowed. “We need to make absolutely certain that no one walks away from this. If my clan finds out…”

“Okay, okay,” the other shifter replied. “I’ll take another look around.”

      Heart hammering, Tegan turned back to face Ciara, who stared at him with wide eyes. “We have to get out of here,” he mouthed. “Before they find us.”

      Nodding, she turned around and started leading him toward the edge of the town so that they could escape. But they’d barely made it a few hundred feet before a dragon shifter dressed in the Firewalker Clan colors, stepped into their view, a wide smirk on his swarthy face.

      “Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Prophet!” He called, craning his neck so he could throw his voice over his shoulder. “I think I found who is responsible!”

      Tegan swore, and he pushed Ciara back in through an open door to shield her, then immediately shifted into his dragon form. He heard Ciara gasp from behind him, but he had no time to worry about that. Opening his mouth, he blasted the Firewalker shifter with a torrent of flame, before the guy had a chance to shift.

      The man fell back, screaming horribly, the pain from the fire preventing him from being able to shift. The building behind him caught on fire as well, just as a dragon swooped down and made a pass for Ciara as she came running through the front of the building, desperately trying to flee from the area. She screamed as his claws bit into her shoulder, but Tegan managed to block her from the worst of it, and then launched into the sky to battle the other dragon. He was older and stronger, but Tegan had the advantage of youth and speed, and he dodged the breath of fire, and swooped down to lock talons with the opposing beast.

      They spiraled through the air like two eagles locked into a whirl, both of them trying to get the upper hand. The other shifter’s eyes glowed menacingly with hatred, and he opened his mouth to shoot a blast of flame at Tegan, but the force of the winds spiraling around them were too strong and the blast blew wide, away from Tegan’s face. As they approached the earth, they started tilting, and Tegan managed to get on top. The enemy shifter’s eyes widened as Tegan smashed him straight into the ground, demolishing several houses and toppling the beast into the hard dirt. Roaring, he launched himself back in the air, swooped down, and grabbed Ciara in his talons just in time – another dragon, one he recognized as Prophet, was flying toward them, clearly intending on targeting Ciara before he did.    

      Prophet’s black eyes looked positively murderous as he glared at Tegan and for a moment Tegan feared he would follow after them. But on a spur of the moment, he turned toward a circle of wagons, and sprayed them with a wall of flame. Roaring, Prophet turned toward the damage, no doubt looking for water – those wagons were valuable and he couldn’t afford to let them get destroyed. Tegan took the opportunity to flap his wings and get him and Ciara high into the sky, and then he headed straight for the one place he knew they would be safe from pursuit.

     
The Meadowlands Forest.

By the time Tegan set Ciara down on land again, she was trembling from a combination of pain, anxiety and exhilaration. Never had she been through such a series of harrowing events in her life – hiding from slave traders, being rescued by a dragon shifter, nearly being captured by another dragon, and then being swooped up into the claws of her rescuer and flown nearly one hundred miles to the south, into what was completely unknown territory for her.

                  “W-where are we?” she asked, her voice wobbling a little, much like her legs were as she walked around and tried to get her bearings again. Tegan had landed behind her, stretching out his long, powerful body, but though he was in dragon form, she was sure he could still understand her. “This isn’t the Redwater Clan’s location, that much I know.”

      Tegan shook his massive, horned head, and then slowly he began shifting out of his dragon form. Ciara had to admit, even through the fog of her shock and confusion, that she was a little said to see his dragon form go – those red gold scales of his rippling against all that sinewy muscle was a magnificent sight to behold.

      But then, so was the man beneath the beast.
Tall, dark and handsome
, she thought, with long black hair that looked silky to the touch and clear blue eyes that, if you ignored the cat’s eye pupil that marked him as a shifter, a woman could just fall into and never come back from again. He was built lean and hard, and even through the tunic she could tell he had hardly an ounce of extra fat on him. He looked like a man who could handle himself and who could take care of a woman. The kind of man she’d always been looking for, but had never found amongst her own villagers, though she loved them all dearly.

     
Yes, well, that’s because he isn’t exactly a man
, she thought to herself.
He’s a dragon shifter. Someone who isn’t meant to be with a human.

       What was she thinking, having lascivious thoughts about someone who she couldn’t have? And especially at a time like this, when her father’s life was on the line?

      “We’re at the Meadowlands Forest,” Tegan told her. “I brought us here to regroup because you’re injured, and the last thing that I want to do is bring you back to the clan when you’re hurt and bleeding. Some of them are old enough to remember the times when they used to feast on humans, and it’s not a good idea to remind them of the taste of human flesh.”

      “Oh.” A shudder ran through Ciara’s battered body as an image of a dragon’s maw opening wide to devour her, its eyes glowing hungrily at her. Fear weakened her muscles, and her knees actually gave out. She collapsed to the ground, taking in huge, gulping breaths as panic threatened to overwhelm her.

      Tegan was at her side in an instant, gathering her in his strong, warm embrace, pressing her cheek against his chest and rubbing his hands up and down her back.

“Shhh,” he murmured in her ear, his lips so close he nearly touched her earlobe. “It’s alright. I didn’t mean to frighten you like that. Nothing’s going to happen to you so long as you’re in my protection. I swear that to you.”

      Ciara’s body started trembling in earnest now that she was officially out of danger and the adrenaline had worn off, letting her emotions and all the pain spill forth. “It’s not just that,” she said, a sob threatening to choke off her words. “It’s everything that’s happened. It’s been so hard…watching dragons swoop out of the sky and grab my people, friends and neighbors that I’ve grown up alongside since I was a child. It’s that I’ve been hiding in a cellar for hours wondering if I’ll be next, and whether I’ll ever see the light of day again. They took everyone, and killed the ones who resisted.” A sob rippled out of her chest, tears streaking her cheeks all over again. “And my father, my dear, sweet father. They took him away and I may never see him again.”

      Tegan placed a hand at the back of her head, stroking his fingers through her hair as she cried. She clung to him, soaking him with her tears, and letting all of her grief and anger and helplessness pour out, until she was a puddle of exhaustion in his arms.

      “Thank you,” she whispered against his chest when it was finally done. “I really needed that.”    

      “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, surprising her, and a pleasant kind of warmth flooded through her body. “It has to be very difficult, losing your entire village in one night.”

      She nodded, and then winced as pain shot through her shoulder. “I… I think I’m hurt.”

      “You certainly are,” Tegan said dryly, glancing at her shoulder. She followed his gaze, and then gasped to see that her dress was in tatters, and large claw marks raked across her fair skin. Blood was caked all over the wound, dried rivulets disappearing beneath the blood-stained fabric. “I think the first order of business is to get you cleaned up, so lets do that before we attract unwanted attention from the beasts who live in this forest.”

      Before she could say anything, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her deeper into the forest. Ciara clung to him, her eyes widening as they disappeared beneath the canopy of trees – it was unlike anything she ever saw before. Gone were the pines and maples that she was familiar with – these trees had enormous trunks, and strangely shaped branches, vines crawling up them and even hanging down some of them. Strange, tubular shaped plants grew up in places along the ground, alongside bushes that seemed ordinary, but boasted tropical looking flowers of every hue.

      “This place… it’s very strange.”

      Tegan chuckled. “It is,” he said, the rumbling in his chest comforting to her. “But you get used to it after awhile.”

      “After awhile?” She frowned up at him. “Do you come here often?”

      Tegan’s face darkened briefly, but the expression was gone in an instant. “I lived here,” he said lightly. “For a few years.”

      “Years?” Shock slackened her features. “Why on earth would you do that?”

      “I didn’t have much choice,” he said, and then was silent for a few seconds. The babble of a brook drew her attention, and she turned her head to see that they were headed towards a stream. “My mother left me here when I was only eight years old.”

      “She abandoned you in this place?” Shock and anger colored Ciara’s tone, and she felt a kind of indignant outrage for her rescuer. “That’s horrible. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

      He smiled tenderly down at her, but she didn’t miss the lingering sadness and pain at the edges of his eyes. “That’s because you were raised by a good family, surrounded by good people. Or at least that’s what I’ve surmised, based on how you speak of your father.” 

      “Yes,” Ciara said slowly, her chest aching at the thought of her father, alone and possibly chained up somewhere, beaten and starved, and who knew what else they did to slaves? But she forced herself to push the dark thought away – they were talking about Tegan now, not her family. “I’m so sorry, Tegan. Every child deserves to be brought up by parents who love them.”

      “It’s okay. I got a second chance with Grey, so I turned out just fine.” Tegan gently lowered her next to a stream. “He raised me like I was his own, so I was never lacking for anything, once he took me in.” His lips curved into a smile, though she was certain it was only for her benefit. “I’m going to go and get some things to dress your wound. Call out my name if you need any help.”

      He strode off into the brushes, and Ciara watched him go, her eyes unconsciously roaming over his muscular body. He had broad shoulders and a strong-looking back, and she wondered if his ass looked just as fine as the rest of him.

     
Stop that
, a voice in her mind scolded.
That’s not what we’re here for. He’s just dressing your wounds and preparing to take you back to the clan. The whole point is that we’re here to get your father back. Okay? That’s it.

      Sucking in a breath to calm herself, Ciara turned away from the trail Tegan had taken, and looked around. Now that she had the time to collect herself, she felt her body relax. She closed her eyes, and took in the sounds of the birds whistling at each other, of the trees rustling as animals flitted through the branches, chasing after each other, or simply hopping around and searching for food. She smiled at the sight of a squirrel happily digging at the base of a tree across the brook, and of a smaller, mouse-like creature scampering toward the edge of the stream to take a drink. The sight reminded her of the fact that she, too, was parched, and so she dipped her head forward and cupped her hands in the water so she could bring some of the cool liquid to her lips.

      As she did, she caught sight of her tearstained, blotchy reflection in the water, and she nearly laughed at how horrible she looked. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest, and her face looked like someone had repeatedly slapped and pinched it until it was red and swollen. Tegan probably thought she was the ugliest woman he’d ever met! There was no point at all in entertaining thoughts of what he would look like naked.

     
If that’s the case, then what was it that you felt when he pressed your body against his back in the cellar?
A voice suddenly argued in her head.
Just something in his pocket?

      Her entire face flushed as she remembered the feel of his manhood pressing against her bottom through her dress, and she splashed the water against her face to try and rid herself of the memory. The cool water felt refreshing against her face, and she scooped up another to gulp it down greedily, icy wetness sliding down her parched, aching throat and easing some of the pain inside her.
Oh god, she didn’t realize how much she’d needed this until she was down on her knees beside the stream. And now that she was drinking, she didn’t know if she was ever going to stop.

      “Careful now,” Tegan’s voice said from behind her. “If you drink too much you might end up getting sick.”

      Ciara gulped down one last handful of water, and then rose up onto her knees again. She definitely didn’t need to add throwing up to her list of embarrassing things to do in front of Tegan. “You’re right,” she said as he knelt down in front of her. “I guess I just got carried away.”

      “I don’t blame you,” he said, smiling. “You seem pretty thirsty.” He reached for her shoulder, and then an uncertainty filled his eyes and he stopped, his hand hovering just above her flesh. “Ciara… do you mind if I, umm, pull this down?”

      “Huh?” Ciara looked over and realized that he was asking her to basically pull down the top of her dress. Color bloomed on her cheeks as well as his. “Umm, yes, of course.” She grabbed what was left of the hem and tugged the shoulders of her dress down, gathering the fabric at her chest to cover her breasts as best as she could while he worked.

      She didn’t miss the flare of heat from his eyes as his gaze brushed over the swell of her bosom, though, or the way his fingers lingered as they brushed against her skin. The pads of his fingers were warm and rough, and they sent tingles through her. Or at least, that’s how they felt before they brushed her wounds. Then she hissed, pain zinging through her.

      “Ouch,” he murmured in agreement, nodding his head. He laid out the tools he’d gathered up from the forest beside him, and Ciara watched as he set to work, grinding up a bunch of leaves – herbs for healing, she guessed – in a shell using a stone as a pestle to make a kind of poultice. When he was done, he took a kind of soft bark that resembled cloth and dipped it in the stream, then cleaned the blood off her wounds, trying to be as gentle as he could. Ciara bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in pain – she wished that she was stronger than this, but the truth was, she’d never been seriously wounded in her life and the pain from the dragon’s claw marks was excruciating. She didn’t know how warriors went into battle dealing with injuries like this. She could barely stand having just a single one!

      “You’re doing great,” he murmured, clearly sensing her discomfort though she said nothing aloud. “We’re almost done here.” He scooped up the paste in his hand and began applying it liberally to her shoulder. Ciara groaned in relief as the cooling paste immediately began to go to work on the injury, her muscles sagging as the pain began to leave her body.

      “This is amazing,” she said, her eyes half closing as a pleasant warmth seeped into the area following the initial coolness. “Where did you learn to do this?”

      Tegan shrugged. “Trial and error,” he said to her. “I had to treat enough of my own injuries during the time that I lived here that I quickly learned which plants in which combinations helped, and which ones didn’t.”

      Ciara winced the implication of his words. “Did… did you ever poison yourself?”

      He nodded. “A couple of times.” He grabbed another piece of bark and began applying it to the wound to cover the area, then ripped the tattered sleeve of her dress and used it to bind up the wound. Ciara winced a little again as he tightened it, but she quickly got used to the pressure, which she knew was necessary in order to help stop the bleeding. “But thankfully as a shifter, it takes a bit more than poison to kill me,” he chuckled, “but I did lay around in excruciating pain for a few days before I was back on my feet.”

      “That’s terrible,” Ciara whispered, reaching out to touch the side of his face. “You… you’ve been through so much.”

      His eyes heated again, and she was acutely aware of the stubble of his jaw scraping her palm, off the heat from his hand flooding through her hand, and into her body. “That was a long time ago,” he finally said. “Nothing more than a distant memory. The pain you feel now is much more real, and pertinent. You need not give me any of your sympathies.”