The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (14 page)

“Ari said I had to let you sleep, but I’ve been waiting for you to wake—”

“You let a commoner dictate to you?” she asked, trying to right herself. It took some effort to control her panting breath. Had he been waiting outside the door?

“She is like a mother,” he said defensively. His excited expression fell some.

“She is too young to be your mother,” Clara answered logically. Her head ached with a residual pain but the throbbing was gone and she was grateful for it. She didn’t pay much attention to what she said. “Even if she was old enough, you’re a nobleman. I don’t know any noblemen your age who let their mothers dictate to them, not to mention a surrogate.”

Vlad glanced toward the wall and took a deep breath. When he again looked at her, his expression was more guarded. She should have been happy that he hid his emotion from her, but instead she found herself wondering what he was thinking.

“If our sons don’t respect you they will answer to me.”

The strength of his sentiment surprised her. “I should hope they would respect me. But I wouldn’t expect them to automatically defer to my decisions once they become men.”

Sons? The idea settled strangely inside her. Her wrist moved to touch her stomach briefly.

“If they do not listen to your opinions and deeply consider them, they will deal with me.” His tone held a finality she did not argue with.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Vlad moved toward the bed and reached for the coverlet. He tugged the material, freeing her captured foot. She hadn’t noticed it was still tangled. When he touched her, a shiver worked up her leg. Her toes curled. She wanted him to run his hand up her calf, but he didn’t. His hand remained on her foot and he sat next to her.

“Though, I will admit, I did not listen to my parents when I was young.” His fingers skated up her leg. “I shifted and ran off into the forest when I was three. I stayed there for a week. My mother was frantic. When she found me, I was curled up in a nest of baldric, pretending to be a bird.” His laugh was infectious and she tried smiling again. This time, the gesture caused his expression to brighten. “You have a lovely smile.”

Clara didn’t know how to answer, so instead said, “They probably worried you were taken by the Draig enemy. Noble children have value that way.”

“The Var had no use for a little dragon living in the forest pretending to be a bird. I think the most danger I faced was from the baldric mother. The creatures don’t normally appreciate intruders into their nest.” His hand moved higher. “Besides, I had not yet come into my title. My parents were still alive.”

Clara’s attempt at a friendly expression faded. Suddenly, a few of his comments and expressions made sense. “You were an orphan taken in by nobility.”

“I was.”

A nobleman who was not born noble. That fact made sense too.

“And the things I said…” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I apologize. I did not realize. I did not—”

“It is fine, Clara.”

“But I told you that it was your circumstance of birth that mattered, not—”

“I remember.” He chuckled. “I am not insulted. I don’t think all of our opinions will match, but we will work out our marriage. The gods would not have paired us if it was not possible.”

She looked at her foot. Clara felt the heat of his hand against her flesh. The sensation made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

“As the High Mining Official it is my duty to see to the mines,” he said. “There is a problem with some of the equipment.”

“I understand. When do we leave?” She didn’t pull away.

“You wish to come?”

“It is my place to do so unless you order me to stay here.”

“I have no wish to order you about.” The smile returned to his features and she took a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten used to the look. “You surprise me, wife.”

“I…” She didn’t know how to answer. His hand stayed on her ankle.

She
surprised
him
?

He lacked the refinement most men she knew carried. But then she’d rejected all suitors before him. There was something to his manner that she liked. Slowly, Clara lifted her hand and leaned forward. She hesitated before touching his face. Her fingers shook as she traced the dimple in his cheek.

“You are not like the men on my world,” she whispered. “I don’t always know how to read your expressions. There are too many changes in your face. Sometimes, inside, I feel as if you’re disappointed in me, yet you smile. You laugh to yourself when there is nothing funny said. The others do it as well. Their faces and gestures do not always match what is going on inside them. I find it confusing and complicated. And none of you block yourselves from others. It makes it impossible to reason who is feeling what in a large group.” Before he could respond, for she detected the urge bubbling inside of him to do so and was not sure she could handle what he might say, she quickly changed the topic, “Let me see you shifted. I sensed the ability in you in our wedding tent when you took my hand. There is a tethered beast inside you.”

Vlad’s answer came in the hardening of flesh beneath her hand. His eyes flecked with gold, swirling as if to call her mind into his. She countered the magnetic pull. The ceffyls had drained her earlier and she could not let him inside her. The animals should never have gotten past her emotional guard, but there had been too many of them to fight. Even now, she could pull up the strange, and somewhat morbid, images they’d given her to look at.

Vlad’s skin continued to harden, turning a dark brown as it grew down his neck to disappear beneath his clothes. A line grew out from his forehead, pushed forward to make a hard plate of impermeable tissue over his nose and brow. Talons grew from his nail beds and deadly fangs grew from his mouth.

She studied him, unafraid. In this form his emotions became muted and easier to accept. “This is amazing.” She tapped her palm against his cheek. “Your body is like armor.” She moved her fingers down his neck. “Can you be injured?”

“Why? Do you wish to stab me?” His voice was gravelly and coarse.

She tapped him again. “I am surprised the Federation did not recruit your people into a breeding program. They tried to on our planet, but we proved too difficult to negotiate with.”

His skin slowly shifted back to firm flesh, but the light stayed in his eyes. “We do not belong to the Federation. Why search the stars when we already have perfection before us.”

Though he spoke of his home world, she felt the compliment was for her by the way his gaze moved over her face.

“As to breeding programs,” he continued, “we only mate with those the gods show us.”

“Then you had never…” She felt heat trying to flood her face.

“Young men find pleasure with certain traveling women, for they are men and sometimes hundreds of years can pass without a bride, but this is nothing I care to discuss with my wife. None of that matters.” His eyes swirled with brighter gold. “The moment I saw you, there could be no one else. You are my fate and I am a very lucky man. I will spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you.”

Her lips curled up in pleasure and she couldn’t control it. For the first time in her life, she didn’t think to try.

Clara’s smile fueled his. “I do not know what the ceffyls wanted with you, but I do like the change. You appear more relaxed.”

“They wanted to tell me about solarflowers. They seemed insistent.” She focused on her hand against his face. The feel of skin caused her nerves to tingle. The sensations worked down her arm. She trembled slightly. Everything inside her focused on him. “I believe they must be addicted to the flower.”

Vlad took her hand in his and pulled it from his face. He held the palm up and began tracing her fingers with his. “It is a rare and lovely gift you have.”

“It’s not so rare on my world. I find it curious that something so ordinary on my birth planet becomes so fascinating for you here.”

“I doubt there is anything ordinary about you, wife, on your birth planet or any other.” His words were a whisper. “I think you would like to speak with my brother, Alek. He is the most gifted with the beasts. He understands them better than any.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Clara nodded. “Then perhaps he can translate what they are trying to tell me, for I have no idea why I should need to be told about flowers and baby ceffyls being born.” She gave a small tremor. “In full detail.” Her free wrist strayed to her stomach. In full graphic, bloody, slimy, wet, horrific detail. The images of birth were nothing like she’d been led to believe. Luckily, she would be asleep when it was time for the baby to be removed. She was a lady after all, and civilized advancements were to be taken advantage of.

“As I wish?” he repeated thoughtfully. “What is it you wish, Clara?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. No one had ever cared to know what she wished.

“I wish to know more about your culture. Are your powers the reason you do not touch things with your hands?” he asked.

“Yes, it is the way of our people. A lady does not touch the things of others. We have to keep our hands clean. Besides, it would be too intrusive to pry into the private thoughts of others all the time by touching them.”

“And when you sit? Why so stiff?”

“A lady should touch as little as possible. We do not rest our arms on furniture. We do not press our backs to chairs. We do not lean against walls or tables.”

“You do not eat a full meal. You do not complain. You do not ride upon animals who do not give you permission. You rarely smile, or laugh, or show me what you are thinking without words.” His eyes moved to look at her thigh where she’d been injured. “You do not complain and ask for medical attention when you clearly need it. You bear a lot in silence, don’t you, my Clara?”

“Emotions are understood when they need to be. There is no reason for strangers to read them.” She stretched her hand as a talon grew from his fingertip. He continued tracing her fingers lightly, one after another, repeating the pattern around her hand. The sharp digit didn’t hurt her, but instead stirred a wicked desire inside her body.

“We might have been technical strangers when we married, but that is quickly changing. Can’t you feel the connection?”

Clara slowly nodded. She did. “There is no reason to show emotions. To do so only complicates things, especially between married people. I never saw my parents express any kind of tenderness toward the other. They were married by arrangement, much like us, I suppose.”

At that he smiled, but this time the look was different, smaller, perhaps a little sad that she had said such a thing. Yet, inside, she felt his desire for her growing. The conflicting emotions made little sense to her.

Vlad continued tracing her hand, changing the direction of his pattern. “I can never tell what you are thinking by looking at you, but I do hope to someday understand it. All I know is when you look at me and smile, I feel pleasure. And when you do not meet my eye or lowly mumble, ‘as you wish’, I feel sadness.”

“You do not wish for things to be as you would have them?” This surprised her, and she drew her hand from his. He let her go. The talon retracted into his finger, leaving it again unshifted.

“Of course, every person wishes that things were exactly as they would have them. However, that is not life. Reality does not bend to one’s will all the time. What about what you want? Perhaps what I wish is for you to do what you wish, lady wife, even if it is against my wishes.”

Clara was keenly aware of their surroundings. This wasn’t her home world. This was a commoner’s cabin in the middle of the wilderness. There were no eyes watching and judging, just her husband—a man practically begging her to do whatever she wanted. Here people smiled when they were happy and frowned when not, and sometimes they did the opposite of what they felt. Confusion filled her. This planet went against everything she was raised to be. Part of her wanted to fall back into the emotionless comfort of Redde nobility. Her husband’s eyes pleaded with her not to.

“I want to feel inside you.” She lifted her hand, wrist out and closed her eyes. It wasn’t the same as looking into animals. People were more complicated. They knew the art of deceit. They were messy and draining, but right now she didn’t care. She projected herself outward so that she could draw him in. The first image was that of a kiss. His mouth was on hers, exploring her deeply and passionately in the woods. Dirt marred her cheek and her husband’s hands. A bird trilled and the sound echoed in her mind.

Her hand touched flesh and she opened her eyes to find her mouth moving toward her husband’s. She kissed him. Parting her lips against his mouth, she said, “There is so much emotion in you. It’s wild, clawing at the surface as if repressed. But how can it be repressed if it shows on your face so readily?”

His mouth moved against hers. She felt him smile against her palm. Her fingers tingled.

“Now, my turn to feel inside of you.” He slid his hand along her hip to her knee. She kneeled on the bed and he leaned forward, slowly urging her to lie on her back.

Clara’s hand fell from his cheek, but the imprint was left behind on his skin. He pulled off his tunic shirt and tossed it aside. Her palm still tingled so she touched his chest, held still for a few moments and then pulled away. Vlad took a deep breath and held it. Again her handprint was left behind. It slowly faded, but the mark on his face remained.

“Mm, I like when you touch me like that,” he said, leaning over her to kiss her neck. “It’s electric current going through my nerves.”

“It must be our kinds,” she said, touching him on the arm to leave another brief imprint. The longer she held it, the longer the mark stayed. “Something in our biologies.”

“Proof that we are a perfect match. Our connection is so strong it leaves marks behind.”

Clara heard a small giggle and stiffened. She blinked, looking around the room.

Vlad pulled up. “What is it?”

Not seeing anyone, she lifted her hands to her lips. The sound had come from her. “I—” The words were cut off as she gave another small laugh.

Vlad moaned and resumed his kisses on her neck. He licked hard and sucked gently. Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Another giggle escaped her. The tight rein of control inside her slipped and she let it, choosing her husband over her past. There was freedom in the decision.