Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II (23 page)

“Speak, whore!” he commanded, his voice forcing her to face him.

Still embedded deep inside her, Mace flipped her over so that her back was flat against her bed. She wanted to fuck a dragon? Mating with a dragon served no purpose for mortal women. None save the obvious pleasures of the experience. It was not with them as it was with dragons—dragons were forced to mate with humans in order to maintain control over their transformations.

Last night, he had been weakened after his battle with Damon and then forced into a human state after only striking the female once with his poisoned tail. Weakness did not sit well with him, even if he had managed to rip the amulet from Damon’s neck and toss it into the abyss created by the eclipse. Weakness was a human quality, not a 137

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dragon one. Now that his strength was back, he could transform, frighten her, rip her body in half with his massive cock.

He smelled her sex as it wafted up to him. She had come, obviously under the influence of the powerful aphrodisiac in the poison. The woman had pleasured herself on his dragon dick, having poisoned him with the vile liquid she fed him. He had only loosely been aware of it. Now, as the scents of the room assaulted him, causing his nostrils to flare, he understood her game. She wished to drug him, control him. For what purpose he did not understand, but he would have answers. First, he would have her flesh.

“I want you to look at me,” he demanded when she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body was rigid, her pussy gripping his dick like a tight fist.

“I can’t,” she whimpered.

“Yes, you can.” He took her face into his hands, roughly holding her head level, keeping her from burying it in the furs. He would pound into her flesh so hard, so brutally, she would never seek to control him again. “Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open. When they did, tears spilled out. The dragon inside him cried out for justice, hating the deception. It wanted to hold her down, tie her to her own bed and render her defenseless just as she had rendered him. Hold her prisoner.

His dick stiffened at the thought. He liked his sex rough and dirty. Yes, the dragon would love nothing more than to pound away, ravage her body, cover it with bruises.

Mace’s breathing quickened and he fought for control, fought to beat down the beast that loomed inside him. Just as he was beginning to gain control, the scent attacked him.

There was something else mixed with her come. Blood.

His hand moved against her woman’s lips, which quivered when his fingers moved them aside and ran along the base of his cock. His suspicions were confirmed when he brought the fingers to his lips. This woman, whoever she was, had spilled her virgin blood on his cock, rendering him completely defenseless against her. And the dragon deep inside, the one who had raged filled with the desire to hurt her, now subdued itself as Mace considered this knowledge.

A virgin? What would a virgin want with a dragon? More importantly, who was responsible for this deception? If he knew anything, he knew this plan sounded suspiciously like the doings of his brother, Damon. He even smelled his scent on the woman’s cunt, as if Damon had chained her to the rock, leaving her there for Mace to find and battle over. The real battle had not been for the woman but had been for control over Tyr, something Mace would not give up easily.

“I should kill you.” He held her face still, holding her eyes with his. “But I think I shall use you first. By the end of this moon time, you will come to crave my touch. And you shall tell me why you brought me here, why you sought to control me with your body. And who is responsible for spilling your blood on my dick.” He meant the words to be harsh, though the emotion behind them was not genuine. Swallowing hard, he 138

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removed the last of the dragon’s rage from his head and concentrated on the woman before him.

She visibly shook at his words. “I spilled the blood.” He sensed her fear. But there was something else in there, too.

“Yes, you did.” He pushed further into her, against her womb.

“I wanted you…I wanted to thank you for…” Her voice trailed off.

“For?” He slid out of her and then slid back in, slowly. He hid his smile when she closed her eyes and sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

“For saving me from the dragon last night.”

“Saving you?” He held the laughter in his voice at bay. Saving her? From a dragon?

Holy fuck. Did the woman not know whose dick was buried inside of her?

“Yes, but please, you can’t tell anyone.”

He moved again, out then back in, watching her eyes smolder with each movement.

He pulled out one more time, waiting, his dick barely inside her tight, wet hole. When she arched her back lightly, he drove into her fully, impaling her on his shaft. The moan that escaped her lips was exactly what he expected. A virgin who liked to fuck. A virgin who could be controlled by his cock.

Damon had mistakenly chosen this one. Maybe he had teased her pussy himself.

Licking it. Holding her hostage as he played with her lips, ran his tongue along the edges of her folds. Maybe he even dipped his tongue inside to taste her cream. Either way, he created a woman who loved sex. And that was his first mistake. Mace could easily control her. He would fuck her every day and at length, teaching her what pleased him, erasing Damon’s tongue from her mind. And when the moon ended, he would send her back to his brother, ruined. She would be
his
whore, not Damon’s. And she would bring him his brother’s secrets.

A smile crossed his lips. “Thank me, little one,” he coaxed.

Eleanora’s body reacted to his the only way it knew how. It opened for him, pressing against him, begging for release. He was wild and untamed. Dangerous.

Everything about him told her she was in trouble. In over her uneducated, never-had-sex-before-tonight head.

His body pressed hers into the mattress as he rocked into her slowly, holding her on the verge of something. But his eyes told her she wasn’t telling him what he wanted to hear. He didn’t believe her or trust her even as he tortured her with longing for sweet release.

“You’re thinking of a way out now, aren’t you?” He smiled down at her.

“No, I…” What? She had no answer for him.

“Hush now,” he demanded, a finger covering her lips. “Let me give you what you want.”

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Her body opened for him, expanding to fit his ever growing size. Right now, she couldn’t think. Not with it sliding in and out of her, stretching her, filling her, driving her to the edge and back again.

She clung to him, her ragged nails biting into the taut skin on his shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut only to open then when his hand lightly slapped against her cheek. His hand was large and rough, but it didn’t aim to hurt her, which confused her more than if he’d pounded her face with his fist. It was a gentle touch on her cheek, reminding her to look at him.

Each time she opened, he gave her a half-smile, which resembled an animal’s snarl more than a man’s smile. So much about him was animal-like. The way he held his head, the way he growled low and long as he moved.

“You like my cock?” he cooed, sending another thrill through her at the seductive tone of his voice.

“Please, I…”

“Oh, now you wish to beg. Beg me. Beg me,” he grunted.

“Please, don’t…I need…” Pressure built somewhere deep inside her, and she felt that she couldn’t control the thousands of thoughts that raced through her head. The man’s eyes burned through her, his distaste obvious, yet he continued to take her body, to speak softly then harshly, to make her feel things she couldn’t explain.

“I know what you need.” Her legs had been trapped inside his as he moved slowly.

She gasped when he raised himself above her and took her ankles in his hands, spreading her wide open. When he pushed back into her, she let out a yell. She could almost feel him in her throat he filled her so completely.

“Like that, huh?” His voice was rough now as he looked down at her, but his eyes were alive with desire, belying his insults.

She knew she pleased him, even if she couldn’t answer his question. She clung to the edge of some black nothingness that threatened to control her, consume her. It was like liquid fire building and building. His slow movements increased. Her legs ached from being held outstretched. Everything else ached from his size.

“Are you ready to come for me?”

She had no idea what he meant. She knew she was ready for something. She nodded, her movements frenzied.

With each thrust, she held her breath. Was this how it felt to die? Had her sisters ever felt such a sensation before meeting their ends? She reached up for his arms, needing something to hold her steady, to keep her from falling over into the nothingness.

His face twisted into a fierce grimace when she touched him. His hair flew wildly about his frame as he moved, still stretching her open. He must be feeling the same thing she felt, out of control, filled with need, with longing. When he stiffened and let out a growl, she shivered as he shot liquid fire deep into her. The scream that came 140

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from her throat didn’t sound human, but the release that came with it made her feel as if the whole world melted away and nothing was left except the two of them. She trembled and shook. And looked up into his eyes which once again glowed golden.

Too soon, he moved away from her, pulling himself from her body. She felt bruised but gloriously alive. The warmth he shot inside her still filled her, making her want to pull him back into her. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, he turned back to snarl at her, his eyes once again the malicious green.

“Clean yourself,” he demanded. She looked down at the wet spot on the bed. It was streaked with blood, proof that he had been her first. Her only.

She would marry one day. This man tonight may have said horrible things to her, may have even hated her, but he started something inside her that she would never forget. But no man, not even her future husband, would be able to make her feel the myriad of feelings the stranger forced on her.

“I can’t move.” Eleanora tried to move her stiff legs, but found them weakened.

“Then I shall carry you. If you are to be mine for the next moon period, you will be clean when I take you. There will be no other scent on you save for mine.”

To be mine.
What did he mean? “I should explain,” she began. Explain what?

Explain that he slipped himself into her while he was unconscious, and she did nothing to protest. She welcomed the invasion?

“Yes, you should. And you shall. But first, you shall bathe. Then you shall change the bedding. And I want you to take off that dress. It doesn’t suit you. It barely fits. You shall wear no clothing while you are in my care.”

She watched as he strolled across the room, unaware or unconcerned with his nakedness. He was still fascinating. She watched his muscles tense and flex as he moved to the hearth to stoke a fire.

His back was covered with scars, some long, some mere scratches. All of them only adding to his beauty.

She watched as he crouched in front of the hearth, poking at the wood before standing and taking a few more pieces from the pile, added and then arranged them.

He looked back at her once more and winked before turning back to the fire. Her heart leapt into her throat and she gasped, horrified when he leaned forward, took a deep breath, and blew fire from his mouth. The man and the dragon were the same. He had not saved her from the dragon’s talons. Instead, he had injected her with poison, preying upon her sympathy for the man she thought was a knight, here to rescue her.

A moment of betrayal flew through her, but it was quickly replaced with fascination. Two dragons had fought for her, and this one had won. And now she felt as if her place in the world, her destiny, had changed.

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Guilt washed over him. Mace knew that she had been at the mercy of his poison, yet he had continued to take her body, to treat her with such disregard, attempting to conjure the dragon after he had taken so much time to subdue it. He was not angry with the woman. It was his brother who should pay for the deception.

Yet he could not appear weak in the eyes of an enemy no matter how innocent she was in the ways of men and women. Even if she had been taught desire, her body had never been entered, her defenses never broken. Mace had seen the dragon’s poison at work so many times in the past, yet never had he seen one so innocent come to life so instantly. Every impulse inside him told him that she was indeed his brother’s spy.

Still, as he watched her sleep, her tiny body wrapped in the thin bed covering, a fierce desire to protect her swept over him. He let out a low growl, knowing what was happening to him. It was the dragon’s curse, set in place so many years ago by a woman scorned. When a dragon spills virgin blood, he is in danger of losing his heart.

Inwardly, he cringed as her leg shifted, allowing him to see the pain he had inflicted, the bruises on her thighs. The dark hair that curled between her legs was still wet from her bath, just as the long hair that covered the pillow still dripped. The woman had been too exhausted to do more than collapse on the bed. Again, guilt and regret swept through him, two emotions he was not accustomed to feeling.

Against his better judgement, Mace crawled into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her sleeping frame, taking in her creamy white skin, which felt like the finest of fabrics against his rough body. Her eyes had been the color of the sky close to midnight. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax against her, tried to slow his breathing to match hers. It had been an eternity since he had slept in the same bed with a woman.

* * * * *

Her body never seemed to tire of him, which was frustrating beyond belief. Worse even, she awakened to his touch, arching her back, craving his fingers on her soft skin.

Mace watched her eyes glaze over with desire every time he took her, waiting, hoping to see fear in there somewhere. Instead, he saw something else he couldn’t quite define, something that shook him to the core. The poison had worn off, leaving her desire for him to be just that—desire, plain and simple. Whoever she was, wherever she had come from, she craved his touch in a way few had before her.