The Dragon and the Dreamwalker (Elemental Series) (6 page)

Drake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Brynn was nothing more to them than an answer to a problem. They wanted to kill her needlessly, and he couldn’t allow it. He was here to stop the dragon and save lives, not bring people to their demise.

“Well, they can’t have her.”

“I agree my lord, but the messenger is very persistent and said he’s been ordered not to leave without her.”

Drake pushed past him, heading for the dryness and warmth of the great hall. Asad followed, shoes squishing in the process. Dinner was to be served soon and Drake didn’t want to be late. Saving damsels from dragons worked up a man’s appetite.

“Well, tell them they’re going to have to find another virgin, as this one is not available. I plan on marrying her at daybreak, and she’ll no longer fill her virginal qualifications anyway.”

“Sir? You are marrying the woman you rescued today?” Asad asked in surprise.

“Aye, that’s what I said.” Drake looked to the ground. A puddle of water surrounded Asad, running right under Drake’s feet.

“And I should tell them your message - about you planning to take her virginity and all?” Asad continued with his questions.

“Egads, Asad, you are worse than a little old woman at times badgering me with all your questions. Now remove your dripping body from here at once and tell them to find another virgin if they really feel they need a sacrifice. But warn them I won’t be in a rush to save her if they’re only going to demand I return her afterwards.”

“I will, my lord. Is there any other message you’d like to relay?”

“Just the one to my squire to change into dry clothing before he sits at my table to sup.”

Asad smiled, and turned to leave. Then, stopping in the doorway, he turned back one last time. “My congratulations on your betrothal, my lord. I wish you luck.”

“It’s not a betrothal, Asad, as there are no promises involved. And for your information, I don’t believe in luck.”

He shook his head and headed to the great hall. If there was such a thing as luck, he was sure his was going to be bad, where Brynn was involved.

Chapter 5

Drake finished his meal and watched the minstrels and performers without really seeing them. His mind was elsewhere. Such as on the feisty witch in his chamber who’d refused his invitation to dinner. Brynn already made him look like a fool to the rest of his men by not obeying him.

“Shall I bring her meal above stairs?” Asad stood with platter in hand, at Drake’s side. Drake took one look at the tray loaded down with food and decided it was too good for the woman who disobeyed his orders.

“No, Asad. If she insists on calling herself a prisoner, than I shall feed her as one.” He picked up a stale trencher of bread and a jug of ale. “I’ll take the prisoner something to eat, myself.”

“But she refuses to let anyone in the room, my lord. She’s locked herself in and won’t come out.”

Drake stood up from his meal, towering high upon the dais. The music stopped and all the castle’s occupants’ eyes were upon him.

“Carry on,” he said with a wave of his hand. On command, the festivities continued. “Nobody, especially a woman is going to keep me out of my own bedchamber.”

He left his squire and took the steps two at a time. He met the guards outside the chamber door.

“Milord,” they greeted him with a bow of their heads.

“Has she had any requests?” he asked.

“None, other than she be left alone,” answered a guard.

Out of courtesy, Drake rapped his knuckles upon the door.

“Go away!” her voice shouted from inside.

“’Tis Drake,” he told her. “Now at the request of your lord, I suggest you open the door, anon.”

“You are not my lord,” came her muffled reply.

“If you’re in my castle, then I am your lord.”

“I think you’re forgetting that it is really my castle, not yours. Killing and pillaging doesn’t qualify as earning the title.”

Impatience won once again. No woman should talk this way to her lord and not be reprimanded. And no wench, witch or not, was going to stop him from entering.

“I’ll not be locked out of my own bedchamber. Now open the door before I knock it down.”

“’Tis my bedchamber, and you have not been invited in. I suggest you find a whore’s bed to occupy if you’re in need of some merriment.”

That was all he was going to take from the little chit. With one powerful leg he kicked in the heavy oaken door and stomped into the room. She stood at the fire, her back toward him, and turned around quickly at his entrance. Dressed in a red velvet gown, and with her hair brushed and fanned out loose and silky down to her waist, he couldn’t help but momentarily forget everything except her beauty.

He turned back to see his guards standing in the doorway, swords raised to protect him.

“There is no need to protect me,” he told them. “And no need to guard the door anymore tonight. I’ll be with her till morning.”

“Yes, milord,” one answered. They backed out of the doorway, and he closed the door, the broken bar hold swinging on the inside.

“What was that you said about a whore’s bed?” he asked, holding the jug of ale and trencher of bread under his arm as he strode forward.

Brynn didn’t like the look in Drake’s eyes. It was dark, and frightening, but not from anger. This was the look of lust. She regretted now ever having spoken to him so boldly. He came toward her, his presence dominating the room, choking the breath from her body as her space was invaded by his form.

“I - I would not lay with you, if that’s what you think.” She held her father’s dagger, red hot behind her back. She’d been heating it in the fire since she heard his knock on the door.

“I never said I wanted to lay with you, did I?”

He put down the bread and jug of ale on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

“If that’s for me, I am not hungry.”

“If I say you’ll eat, you will. And what are you hiding behind your back?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she retorted.

He took a step forward and reached out for her. She thrust the hot dagger at him. He caught her wrist, but she managed to lay the hot metal against his inner arm. She could smell his skin burning beneath it, and watched as his face scrunched up in pain.

“Arrrgh!” he growled in protest. “What are you doing?” He ripped the dagger out of her hand and flung it across the floor. That’s when his eyes settled on her father’s banner hanging on the wall instead of his own.

“What have you done with my banner?”

“I shredded it and burned it in the fire,” she answered smugly.

His eyes narrowed and his brows dipped. His gaze clouded over and a dark shadow fell over his face. He took a step toward her, his fists clenched in rage. She backed away, toward the fire.

“You had no right to do that. And if you don’t stop trying to kill me, I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

The window coverings blew relentlessly as the wind suddenly picked up outside. Brynn heard thunder rumbling in the background and saw the flashes of lightning illuminating his dark face. She felt a coldness she had only felt once before. A fear inside herself that wasn’t unlike that of being tied to the sacrificial stake and waiting for the dragon to consume her. Drake’s eyes burned with anger, and she stepped farther back as he stepped nearer.

“You don’t frighten me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, I think I do, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl. I am a woman.”

“Then start acting like one. We are to be married in the morning and I’ll not have you making a fool of me in front of my men again.”

“You have no right to try to keep me here.”

He took a step closer, and she could see a vein bulging in his neck. He was trying to hold back his anger. The thunder grew louder and the rain pelted against the stone walls. She could hear the sea churning in the background and feet running in the hallway.

“I’ll be here all night, with you laying at my side. Do not even try to escape if you know what’s good for you. And if I see you touch that dagger again, I’ll . . .”

“My lord,” came his squire’s voice and a pounding at the door. “I think the dragon cometh.”

He was close to her, but at that announcement he whipped around and ran to the window. He looked out over the mountains toward the sea and she was surprised to see he no longer paid her any attention. She had half a mind to sneak out, or at least over to the dagger, but decided not to move.

His eyes searched the land outside and she noticed his breathing quicken. Then he turned back toward her, barely glancing in her direction as he paced the room, running a hand through his hair.

“Shall I ready the archers?” asked Asad from beyond the door.

“No,” he mumbled. “No!” he shouted, and ran back to the window.

Brynn watched him grip the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. The dragon head on the hilt shined brighter and the ruby and emerald eyes glowed under his palm. She had never seen anything like it.

Still staring out the window, he grabbed hold of the sill with both hands, as he half bent over. He looked like he was about to retch. His breathing was still labored, and she saw his anger turn into something else. Was it fear? How could the strong, infamous
Dragon’s Son
fear a beast such as Dracus? He was known as a warrior. He was one of the most fierce, brave men to ever walk the hills of Lornoon. Yet she saw something in his stance, in his gestures that she didn’t understand at all. Her fears of him subsided as she glimpsed the warrior’s own fears overpowering him.

He struggled to calm his breathing and regain his composure, all the while his back toward her, as if he didn’t want her to see his face. She could have escaped easily. She knew she could have made it past Asad at the door, and out of the castle in the midst of the confusion, but something made her stay. Could it be because of Juturna’s words? Could she really be smitten with this man like the old woman accused her of being? She tried to convince herself otherwise, but her heart told her differently. She no longer felt he killed her parents, though she wanted to hear the explanation coming from his mouth. But her own needs pushed aside, she couldn’t help but feel like he needed her to stay.

Something scared her about this man, and she couldn’t help but think it scared him as well. The feeling of darkness struggling with light. The feel of goodness trying to overcome evil. She didn’t understand any of it, but knew her place was at Thorndale. She felt inside herself that she should stay, not leave. If he needed her help, so be it. Juturna was right. She needed his help as well. If he didn’t kill her parents, then he probably knew who did. And if she could convince him to help her, she would have revenge on the true killers after all.

He finally raised his head, his composure regained, and looked toward the door. “The dragon will not come tonight,” he spoke to his squire.

“But how can you be sure, milord?” Asad’s voice sounded through the door.

“Tell the men they can retire for the evening.” He looked out the window, and Brynn realized the thunder and lightning subsided, yet the rain was still pouring down. “There will be no sacrifices this night.”

“Aye, milord,” answered Asad. She heard his footsteps scurrying away and the sound of his voice through the corridor reassuring the men the dragon would not come.

Drake turned slowly back toward her, and by the look on his face, she knew every ounce of his energy had been spent.

Her own realization of just how much he needed her had her backing closer to the fire for strength. She could see it in his eyes. Like a lost soul crying out for help before giving up to defeat, he silently cried out to her, and a part of her wanted nothing more than to take his hand and tell him everything would be all right. Oddly enough, she cared for him. She could no longer deny it. She’d looked inside her heart just like Juturna had told her, and saw that what the old woman said was true. Somehow, some way, she felt their meeting was planned from the start.

They stood silently, looking at each other for what seemed like eternity, the fire behind her giving her the strength she needed to face her unspoken confession of attraction. His eyes drank her in, and she felt his gaze heating her body, hotter and hotter.

Then he opened his mouth as if to say something, but his eyes opened wide instead. He ran to her and her heart leapt. He picked up the coverlet on the way, and throwing it around her, knocked her down and rolled atop her upon the floor.

“Get off of me,” she commanded, hitting him with her fists, wondering why he’d done this. Mayhap he was no better than Calais, being vulgar and wanting to mate right on the floor.

“You’re on fire!” he told her, holding her tightly, rolling around the floor with her to put out the flames that indeed had caught her skirt ablaze when she backed too close to the hearth.

With the flames extinguished, he lay atop her, his arms supporting his weight from crushing her. His face was alarmingly close to hers, his hair hanging down and brushing her cheek. She trembled as her body vibrated from his touch.