Nioral's Quest Read online

  She had to have this man, no matter what she called him. “Nioral can wait. I want you to fuck me right now,” Merigone demanded, out of her head with desire. She pulled her dress off again, and this time upped the stakes a notch. “If you don’t make your cock dance inside of me, I’ll take care of myself,” she threatened.

  Nioral didn’t understand what Merigone meant until she placed her hand between her legs and began to massage her mound. She slid her middle finger into her pussy and pulled it out, shuddering at the self-delivered bliss. She leaned against the closest tree and spread her legs, allowing Nioral full view of her fingers pleasuring herself.

  It proved to be too much.

  Nioral kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt and pants off in seconds. Naked, his swollen cock dripping, he moved as slowly as his mad need would allow to keep from grabbing Merigone and throwing her to the ground. She took his cue and lay down on her dress, spreading her legs wide. Nioral stroked himself as she massaged the insides of her thighs.

  “Fuck me hard,” she invited, smiling.

  Nioral fell upon her writhing body, trying to process all the cravings fighting for control of his brain. He wanted to feast on Merigone’s pink folds, to use his fingers to pleasure her as no other man had. He wanted to be anything but a barbarian, but only his primal yearnings remained.

  “Please understand,” he begged, rubbing the head of his cock against her tight opening to wet it.

  He strained with supreme effort to not plunge into her, but Merigone challenged him. She gave him an impish grin just before she lifted herself while pulling his hips down at the same time, forcing him to drive his full length deep inside her. Nioral didn’t stand a chance.

  “Oh, by the gods, yes, yes, yes!” Merigone screamed, her hips bucking wildly. “Ride me hard!”

  Nioral, for the first time in days, let go and did as requested. His sweet Merigone, he discerned, liked the feel of him pounding into her pussy. Her hot cunt spasmed against his intrusion, and Merigone clawed his back like a wild woman. Thick, warm woman’s cream bathed his cock, and he thrust harder and harder, faster and faster, pushing himself deeper every time.

  Merigone did nothing but encourage him. She met each of his powerful thrusts with an intensity he didn’t expect and couldn’t understand. He leaned down to kiss her, crushing her lips with his and letting his tongue mimic his cock.

  It drove her over the edge.

  Merigone yelled and pulled at him, throwing her head back and shuddering in his embrace. Nioral could hold out no longer and came with a roar, pumping his seed inside her and relishing the feel of her clamping down on him. He rode out the last of his orgasm, his thrusts gentling until he couldn’t move anymore. His body exhausted and his carnal hunger sated, he glanced down at Merigone, whose eyes were already closed. Her smile hinted sleep hadn’t taken her completely yet. He fell beside her and pulled her to him.

  “My love,” Nioral whispered against her soft hair, enjoying the flush of her cheeks and the organic fragrance of their love-making as it surrounded them.

  She opened her eyes, and he could swear he saw love there. His heart nearly stopped until he remembered she’d made love to a stranger, not to him, Nioral, healer dragon of the Kilsh Brood and last of the Lynial Brood of Healers. A sharp pain he’d never experienced before pounded through his chest and he winced at it, at least until she spoke. Her voice tinkled like bells in his ears.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, and mayhap it’s not proper, but the passion I shared with you is one that I really wished to share with the dragon, Nioral. You see, I fancy myself in love with him. Can you imagine such a crazy thing? Being in love with a dragon? He saved my life and now I’m smitten. Obviously I can’t fuck a dragon, but I can fuck you. Does it bother you that I wish you were Nioral?”

  Nioral stared at the vixen beside him. Her words played like music in his brain, giving him hope he’d not experienced since the Kilsh Brood took him in after the Great Change. In a matter of days, she’d gone from his innocent patient to his wild, impetuous lover.

  And Nioral really liked it.

  Inspired, he quoted his father, “A wish is a command the heart makes that the mind must obey.”

  Merigone giggled, and Nioral kissed her and pulled her into his arms to rest. His yearning for her building again, he decided he’d need his strength for later dalliances and allowed himself to succumb to a truly satisfied slumber, his first in a very long time.

  * * *

  Drowsy, Merigone reached for her lover’s broad chest, craving the feel of the light, coarse hair under her fingertips. She meant to touch him there, then let her hand drift farther down. Instead, she touched an empty space beside her, grasping nothing but dry leaves and forest litter. Nioral had disappeared. A chill passed through her, loneliness and grief finally finding their way into her heart now that her passion had been calmed enough for her to think clearly.

  Her father’s death just days before still did not seem real to her. None of the events of the last few days did. But here she lay just the same, her need for her lover growing with every breath. Nioral, the dragon who’d saved her life even when she could not save her father’s. Nioral, the mighty healer who needed her as much as she needed him. Nioral, her lifemate, her love.

  Her dragon.

  A light tremor in the earth caught her attention, and she searched for the cause of the disruption. He wasn’t hard to spot. Nioral stood just beyond the trees, his brown gaze roving her nakedness. He shifted, as if something made him uncomfortable, before striding toward her.

  Merigone stood and brushed herself off. She liked knowing her body excited Nioral, because his very essence excited her.

  “Clothe yourself,” he said after dropping her garment into her hands.

  Merigone did as he bid with no arguments. She had a favor to ask of him, and to ignore his request could foul his mood. However, despite her best intentions to not upset him, Merigone couldn’t resist the need to touch him, to feel his rough skin against her palm. She grabbed him around the neck and squeezed, causing Nioral to emit a strange sort of half roar.

  Pulling her from his neck, he sat back on his haunches and spoke. “I’m sorry about your father, Merigone. I know how it is to lose someone, or many someones, you love,” he sympathized. “My friend from the brothel told me what happened.” Merigone tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, her hands on her hips. “All of it,” Nioral added. “Even that you and he…”

  Merigone resisted rolling her eyes. For an intellectual, Nioral wasn’t very smart. “Your friend is an expert lover,” she baited him.

  Nioral snorted. “Thank you,” he said, his chest puffing.

  “Thank you?” Merigone questioned, and at this Nioral huffed.

  “I pride myself on seeking friends who are very talented. You’ve just proved I’ve succeeded,” he offered as a lame explanation.

  “You did. I now can’t imagine another touching me and being able to please me as he did,” she countered a bit saucily. Why couldn’t he trust her with his secret? Why did he torture himself? It hurt that he didn’t trust her when she trusted him completely, and it hurt to see him in such pain.

  Nioral pulled his eyelids high on his head and grunted. Merigone shrugged, her manner nonchalant, which seemed to irritate him even more. She quickly changed the subject. “I need your help, Nioral. I’m sure now my mother had something to do with my father’s death, but I don’t know why or how.”

  Nioral picked up her train of thought. “I believe, my dearest, your answers lie with the witch.”

  He leaned closer to her, his smoky breath reminding her of the fires she and her father sat around when she was just a little girl. Her first lesson in plant identification occurred around a fire such as this. Sadness pulled her chin to her chest, which ached to avenge her father.

  Without another word, Nioral slipped Merigone onto his back and headed high up in the sky, in the direction of the glen.

  Chapter S
ix

  The trip to the glen and just beyond where the witch made her home took much less time on the wings of a fine dragon than on foot. Nioral landed silently in the forest a good distance away, and Merigone hopped down. Nioral glimpsed her countenance and his heart pounded. Determination and strength made her even more beautiful, and her loyalty enchanted him.

  Only the idea she’d become so taken with his human form disturbed him. His ego swelled when she complimented his prowess, only to be dashed when she mentioned how she now wanted no other lover but the stranger from the brothel. He felt betrayed and jealous.

  Of himself.

  Nioral sighed inwardly. He’d found the one creature he believed to be his bonding mate, and she freely admitted her love for him as a dragon and her passion for him as a human. He could want no more, except for Merigone to find justice for her father and peace in her life, whether it included him or not. He hoped, in some way, no matter how complicated, it did.

  The little hut beyond the glen seemed harmless enough, but Nioral sensed a foul spirit or two. As quietly as possible, he and Merigone moved toward it, and soon the screechy laughter of two different voices filled the night air.

  “I told you, sister, I couldn’t wait any longer. Merigone was never going to find another spouse and leave,” one voice tittered.

  “When do I get my payment for bewitching her so you could finish the deed?” another woman spoke, her scratchy tone more serious.

  “When I finish sorting through my poor, dead husband’s things,” the other mocked, ending with a loud squeal.

  Merigone looked like she wanted to throw up, and Nioral’s heart ached for her. He nuzzled her, and she leaned her head against his snout.

  “Dragon! It’s the dragon,” a youthful voice called out, and two female faces immediately appeared at the window of the hut.

  Nioral recognized the vocal emanations of the smaller of the two lads who had hunted Merigone days ago, and, just as he did before, he flicked the wayward youth in the head and sent him flying. One of the women disappeared back inside, but Merigone’s mother jumped through the window with the agility of an acrobat and sailed through the air toward the pair.

  “Bitch!” she screamed. “I should have killed you the day you were found!”

  Merigone rushed toward her mother, fists at the ready, but Nioral dropped his tail in her path. He reared to his full height, spreading his wings and shooting blue flame into the sky. His bellow, filled with rage, shook the ground.

  “Nioral, no!” yelled Merigone. “This is my battle -- take care!”

  No sooner had her words reached his keen ears than a sharp pain in the middle of his chest brought Nioral to all fours. Merigone yelled and terror contorted her features. Nioral saw her aunt just inside the window, holding a bow, a wicked scowl on her pointed, hideous face. Nioral tried to stand on his haunches, but staggered, just out of Merigone’s reach, an arrow protruding from the tough scales over his heart.

  “Nioral!” Merigone screamed, her arms outstretched.

  She stumbled toward him, but he waved her back. “Go, my dearest. Go!” he pleaded, his voice filled with agony. He faltered a few more steps before collapsing. He forced his eyes to focus on Merigone. “You are my bonding partner,” he gasped, his head flat on the ground. “Never forget it.”

  Merigone dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing. Her mother’s evil cackle hovered around them, intensifying Nioral’s pain a hundredfold.

  “Dragon meat for dinner, Levelia!” she sang in an evil voice. “And as a plus, we’ll have Merigone’s eyes as garnish!”

  Her mother turned and ran toward the hut, to where a sickle leaned conveniently against the woodpile. Only minutes stood between Merigone’s and Nioral’s certain death.

  “Lovely creature, come with me,” a low voice beside them insisted.

  Nioral’s eyes snapped open and Merigone lifted her head. He rolled his eyes to the side and snorted softly.

  “Nioral, my friend, I told you to bring her to me once you’d healed her,” Fudalon said, his calm tone filled with mock chastisement.

  “Take her,” Nioral gasped.

  “No!” Merigone protested, tightening her grasp.

  “I don’t want her now,” Fudalon argued. “You’ve made her too human, I believe. But I will take her to safety, just because you’ve saved me the nuisance of bedding an imposter. Of course, I’ve some personal business to attend to first.”

  Fudalon turned and slithered silently toward Merigone’s mother.

  “Go!” Nioral commanded with a cough, and Merigone stumbled backward, her gaze never leaving Nioral, though her mother rushed at them as madly as any vengeful beast.

  Merigone’s mother, crazed, thrashed the sickle about her slender frame, unaware of the silent danger awaiting her. When Fudalon struck her the first time, she gasped in shock. The viper moved so quietly, she’d never heard him approach. It would have been unlikely she’d have heard him in any case, she was so intent on her purpose.

  Fudalon’s second strike stunned her, and she dropped to her knees. His third strike stole her breath and turned her face blue, and his fourth strike only compounded the agony of the toxin destroying her insides and turning them to soup. Until he heard the scream of her sister witch, Fudalon kept striking, long past the point at which his venom would do its job completely. He slithered away, an elegant assassin successful in his assignment.

  Fudalon found his way to Merigone, who by now expected no apologies for his actions -- it had been her mother, after all -- and cared only for the fate of her bonding mate. Fudalon moved swiftly past her, stopping only long enough to signal her to follow.

  Merigone’s heart broke, but, just as Nioral had to leave her to her mother, she had to leave him to find a way to save him. As she stood to run, a piece of Nioral’s scales, the broken ones around his heart, fell off, landing softly in the grass. Merigone grabbed it and took off after Fudalon.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Nioral,” Merigone yelled, racing toward the trees where she would have a chance to gather her wits. She’d find a way to defeat her aunt and save Nioral.

  She had to.

  One last glimpse of her beloved left her with the awful image of the splendid dragon lying prostrate and not moving, but she could have sworn she heard him speak one last time, his words comforting her even in his darkest moments.

  “No tears.”

  Chapter Seven

  Merigone, still carrying Nioral’s broken scale, fell on her hands and knees, breathing heavily.

  The Snake King turned on her, his black eyes filled with fire almost as intense as dragon fire. “Find a way, lovely,” he said, his tone frosty, and Merigone wasn’t sure if he thought she’d given up or not. But she didn’t care.

  “I will go back,” she responded. “Just as soon as I catch my breath.”

  The Snake King bobbed his head. “Nioral has chosen well,” he complimented, gliding to the roots of a malon tree and shimmying up. “Not only are you a healer, but a feisty one at that. And you can hear my sounds as human words. Quite a gift, and not one given to just any human, I guarantee.”

  “You’re giving up, Snake King?” Merigone taunted him, trying to think. She might need his help, and he seemed more intent on leaving than helping.

  The viper who’d just killed her mother, who’d tried to mate with her bewitched self, now seemed content to hang in the trees while her only love lay at the mercy of her evil aunt. Had he no feelings for Nioral at all?

  “It is now up to you, Merigone of the Merigone’s Slipper,” Fudalon said, curling around a branch high up. “Call me when you capture the hag and I will do the rest. I owe it to my snake brethren, those who’ve lost their eyes and hides and tails to the greed of the witch of the glen.”

  Merigone nodded, fighting to stand. She had to find a way to save Nioral. He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. Dragons didn’t die that easily. Her passion certainly wouldn’t.
>
  A wish is a command your heart makes that your mind must obey. Nioral’s words came back to her, and inspiration struck. All this time she’d wondered how he’d turned into a human, what magic he used. She could read his mind, but his secret was buried too deeply for her to uncover.

  Until now.

  Now she realized. Now she knew. Now she could fight.

  Mustering all the strength she had left in her body, Merigone focused on her deepest wish, letting her heart dictate to her mind and blocking any obstacles standing in her way. On her next deep breath, a tingling sensation traveled through her body, into her brain and out to her limbs. The more she concentrated, the more pronounced the feeling became until she didn’t feel anything except a twisting and pulling and changing.

  Merigone opened her eyes, surprised only a little bit to find herself at eye level with Fudalon. He spoke not a word for several seconds, only bobbed his head and reset his fangs. “You make a fine dragon, Nioral’s mate,” he finally said.

  Merigone held out her talons and examined them with awe. She’d done it. She’d actually turned herself into a dragon! Her silver scales glimmered in the fading sunlight, almost blinding her, and she spread her powerful wings wide. Merigone moved her legs and tail, maneuvering expertly in her new massive form.

  A quiet pulsing drew her attention to the scale she still clutched. Its rhythm like that of a heartbeat, she realized Nioral did still live -- the scale told her so. She looked deeper, pulled into the beauty of the hard material just as she had been in the forest the day Nioral saved her life. A story unfolded quickly in the swirls of brown, right before her eyes.

  It was a story of a dragonling, misplaced during the chaos of the Great Change, whose mother had been of the Kilsh and whose father had been of the Lynial Brood. A story that showed the dragonling, born as all dragons are, to know and keep the dragon secret. The dragonling became lost in the human world, changed form, and was found by a kind village healer and bound to an evil witch by one of her self-serving spells.