Dragon Lord’s Destiny
Dragon Lord, Book 6
by Cynthia Sax
eBook ISBN: 06479-02083
In the forest, less than a day’s ride away from the keep, they are attacked by bandits. Celestria fights alongside the guards. Outnumbered and disarmed, she faces her death bravely.
Then a warrior dressed all in gray, breathing smoke and fire, enters the fray. Celestria knows he is the one, the man she is destined to love. He doesn’t know he’s her future husband, however, and he is riding toward her, his sword raised.
“I was to find my one true love today at the King’s Keep,” Lady Celestria muttered, swinging her long thin sword with the little strength she had left. “Instead I will be killed by a ragtag gang of bandits, leaving my aunt and cousin to fend for themselves.”
Sunrays streamed through the trees, creating patches of warmth and light. The air smelled of pine, decaying leaves, and death, the green moss under her booted feet absorbing moisture. Soon it would absorb her blood.
She dodged a blow, her small size and speed making her more difficult to kill. Four of the six warriors her uncle had sent to guard their carriage hadn’t been as lucky; their bodies lay hacked to pieces in a forest less than a day’s ride from their destination.
One warrior remained standing to her left and another stood to her right. The carriage containing her aunt, her cousin, and their servant girl blocked the bandits from attacking from the rear. “All you need to do is to protect your front,” she told herself. “Remember what your brothers taught you.” She blocked a blade and twisted it out of the bandit’s dirty fingers.
He fell back and another bandit took his place. There were so many of them, and she was so tired, her arms and shoulders aching. “Warriors do not complain,” she recited. She credited the grueling training her seven brothers had subjected her to for her survival thus far. “And I am a warrior.” She ducked, and a sword cut the air above her.
When her mother died during Celestria’s fifth summer, her distraught father had raised her no differently than he’d raised her male siblings.
“He must have known I would need these skills.” She talked to herself, accustomed to being a rare female in a keep of silent men. “As he knew upon seeing my mother, he would love her.”
She’d wanted that kind of love for herself and that was the only reason she’d agreed to join her more genteel aunt and cousin on the trip to King’s Keep. Her father had met her mother at court. Celestria had hoped to duplicate that good fortune.
She had been a fool. As her aunt had pointed out, she was not her mother. She hadn’t her dowry, her fair face, her accomplishments or her luck.
Sir Godwin, the battle-weary warrior to her right, sucked in his breath — a bandit’s blade had pierced his shoulder. When he fell, she would die.
Celestria’s movements grew sluggish, the blades slicing closer and closer to her. Her uncle’s aging warrior staggered, unable to dodge the bandit’s blows.
“Fight, good knight,” she urged. They would die with weapons in their hands.
She sliced through the air with her sword. The greasy-haired bandit caught her blade with his. The impact jarred it from her numb fingers. The weapon flew into the air and landed far out of her reach. Sir Godwin fell face forward into the moss.
Celestria sank to her knees, too exhausted to stand. She lifted her chin, determined to face her adversary and die as a warrior.
The bandit grinned, displaying a gap where his teeth should have been. He raised his sword and —
His body shuddered, his eyes widened, and he fell, an axe lodged between his shoulder blades.
“What magic is this?” Celestria released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Who has saved me?”
A deafening roar rose above the sound of the battle, chilling her to the bone. She turned her head toward the sound, ducking a bandit’s blade. A massive warrior rode his gray horse toward them, swinging his sword left and right, decapitating their attackers as though it were a sport.
He was dressed all in gray, his chest plate consisting of dragon scales. The armor wasn’t needed. He killed the bandits before they could touch him.
The warrior dismounted from his stallion with an inhuman ease, and he ran toward her, his movements both graceful and terrifying. He was coming for her. Celestria felt that truth in her soul, saw her destiny in his countenance.
He wasn’t handsome — his too-broad face crisscrossed with scars, his black hair overly long and shaggy — but he was striking, his eyes the color of newly crafted armor. As she ducked and dodged attacks, unarmed and exhausted, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him. She’d never seen a warrior with his speed, his strength, his skill.
“I will not survive his attack.” Celestria tilted her face upward as he approached her. “But even my brothers would consider it honorable to be killed by the likes of him.”
The gray warrior lifted his sword, the finely crafted blade dripping with blood. She held his gaze, not flinching, too enthralled to be fearful. He swung his arm, and the bandit to her right lost his head, his skull rolling on the forest floor.
“Guard my rear,” he growled, his voice as deep as a valley. The newcomer, her rescuer, turned, his wide shoulders blocking out the carnage. He was a mountain, a great killing beast, and for some mysterious reason, he killed for her, attacking the bandits with a fierce vengeance.
“I must guard his rear,” Celestria murmured, uncertain how she could protect such a man from anything. She was half his size and weary, so very weary. She dropped her gaze to his clenched ass, his solid form encased in tight gray leather. “And what a rear my warrior has.” She licked her lips, tempted to touch him. “It resembles an apple, round and firm and luscious.”
He grunted and fought, clearing the space before them. More large warriors joined him forming a line in front of the carriage. Celestria’s aunt, cousin, and their maid remained hidden inside the vehicle, none of them having any fighting skills.
Celestria had fighting skills. She struggled to her feet, swaying slightly, determined to protect her mysterious warrior. She glanced around her for a weapon.
“I will borrow this for the battle and return it to you.” She wrenched the sword from Sir Godwin’s cold fingers.
It took both of her hands and all of her strength to drag the sword toward her. The tip of the blade skimmed along the ground. “I am guarding your glorious rear,” she announced proudly, her head light, the edges of her world blurring.
Her warrior grunted and sliced a bandit in half. The blond, too-handsome-to-be-trusted warrior standing beside him looked over his shoulder at her, said words she didn’t understand, and laughed.
“Do not laugh at me.” Celestria stiffened, wishing she had the energy to wield the sword she held. “I am a warrior.”
The blond behemoth laughed more. Her warrior barked words, and the laughter died.
“Aye.” She nodded. “You tell him. I may be smaller than he is, but my blade is as sharp.” She attempted to raise the sword, panting with effort, her arms aching. She wasn’t able to. “If I could lift it, I would show him.”
Her warrior’s shoulders shook, and she narrowed her eyes, glaring at his massive back. “I will show you also, once I retrieve my own sword.”
A whistle shrilled, aggravating Celestria more, and the bandits retreated. Some of the newly arrived warriors chased them. Her champion remained standing protectively before her.
When the last bandit left the battlefield, the gray warrior sheathed his sword, metal sliding along leather, and he pivoted on his booted heels, his movements surprisingly fluid for such a large man.
She gazed up at him, her breathing growing ragged. He gazed down at her possessively, as though he owned her, as though she were his spoils of war.
She darted her tongue over her lips, tasting blood. “I am covered in blood.”
Lightning flashed in her warrior’s unusual eyes. “Did they harm you, little warrior?” He rushed forward and grasped Celestria’s arms. A surge of awareness shot across her body, her nipples tightening and her pussy moistening.
“Ummm… nay. It is not my blood.” Is this feeling battle lust? She dropped Sir Godwin’s sword, her fingers trembling. Her brothers had often talked of battle lust — an undeniable, painful, sexual need that must be appeased.
Her gray warrior patted her chest, stroked her sides with his thick fingers, cupped her ass, and felt along her legs. Celestria shook like a leaf in the wind, the warmth of his skin felt through her gown. She wished for that warmth to cover her, to fill her.
“You are well,” he confirmed, his voice gruff.
“Aye,” she whispered, wanting him, not knowing how to have him. She was a virgin. He was a stranger. They were on a battlefield of sorts. “They did not harm me, thanks be to you.” She rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease her ache.
Her warrior’s nostrils flared, and his strange silver eyes darkened. “Thanks be,” he repeated. “You are mine.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. She didn’t resist, going to him willing, their bodies fitting together, the hard ridge in his breeches pressing against her stomach.
“Oh.” Celestria knew what that ridge meant. He suffers from battle lust also.
“I have never seen a warrior fight as you did.” She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. Storm clouds raged in his eyes, an exciting energy crackling between them.
“I have seven brothers. I have seen many warriors fight.” She licked her bottom lip, and his gaze tracked the movement, his perusal lighting fires she didn’t know how to tend. “But none fight like you.” Her voice was husky, unrecognizable to herself. “It was… thrilling.”
He groaned, the sound vibrating his dragon scale-covered chest plate, and he lowered his head, covered her mouth with his. His lips were as hard as the rest of him, questing, demanding, claiming. Celestria gasped, jolted by the contact, and he filled her with his tongue, laying siege to all of her.
She had been kissed before, once, a quick peck on the lips by the tavern owner’s son. That kiss was nothing like this one. This kiss burned, seared, scorched — changing her.
She lifted her hands to her warrior’s shoulders and kissed him back with all of the passion in her heart, twisting, twining her tongue with his. He tasted of charred meat, and he smelled of smoke, fresh sweat, and hot man.
He palmed her ass, pushed her against the bulge in his breeches, lifting her off the ground. As he stroked into her mouth, mimicking the mating of animals, he rubbed her up and down him.
Celestria murmured her discontentment into his mouth, rubbing not enough for either of them. According to her brothers, battle lust wouldn’t dissipate until a male spent. She’d never heard of a man spending from rubbing.
She couldn’t rut with him as she was a lady and rutting was reserved for her future lord husband, whomever he might be. But her brothers had often talked about other ways a man could find relief.
She gazed into her warrior’s silver eyes. He had saved her life, the lives of her kin. She owed him relief.
And she wanted to see him, feel him, mayhap even taste him. She turned her head, tearing her lips away from his. “You are suffering from battle lust.”
Her warrior grunted and squeezed her ass, his grip on her curves arousing her.
“I have heard battle lust can be cured with hands.” Her face heated. “I would like to do this for you.” Celestria glanced around her. The other warriors tended to their fallen comrades. Did they suffer from battle lust also? “I only wish to do this for you.” She didn’t want to touch anyone else.
Her warrior lowered her to her feet, and her boots sank into the moss. “My warriors will not watch.” He barked words in his language, and the warriors turned around, facing away from them, a wall of broad shoulders forming around them. “They will protect us, mate.”
Mate. The softly spoken endearment combined with his consideration eased some of Celestria’s concerns. “I have never done this before.” She ran her trembling fingers over his leather-covered groin.
He was large all over. Even though she’d grown up around many, many males, males who often shed their garments wherever they pleased, she couldn’t recall any male as large as he was.
“Will you… ummm… train me?” She fumbled with the ties to his breeches, her weariness making her clumsy. “Mercy.” She laughed shakily, her cheeks burning. “I cannot even remove your sword from the sheath.”
His grim lips twitched. “It is a large sword.” He pushed her fingers aside and unfastened his breeches. He pulled them down to his knees. His cock sprang free, long and thick and hard.
She stared down at him, having never been this close to a cock before. “I am told it is like milking a goat.” Her warrior’s shoulders shook. “You will not laugh for long.” She smiled. “I am very skilled at milking.”
She brushed her fingers over his tip, spreading the bead of liquid across his skin. “You are soft and hard.” He was thistle down over hard tree trunk, an intriguing combination. She skimmed her fingertips over his shaft, and his cock bobbed. “And you move.” She laughed, meeting his gaze.
Lines were etched around his mouth, and her laughter faded. “You are in pain. Is it the battle lust?” He pressed his lips together. “It must be,” Celestria concluded. She wrapped her fingers around him, and his body jerked.
“You are surprised.” She sighed, her rough hands having shocked her aunt also. “You fight like a knight, and knights meet many ladies.” She filled the silence with words, accustomed to one-sided conversations. “You expected me to have soft hands, not calluses and scars.”
Celestria worked him as she’d work a goat’s teat, pumping his cock with long, firm strokes. “My aunt tells me with my small dowry, my plain looks, and my lack of ladylike ways, I will be hard pressed to find even one suitor at court.”
“There will be no other suitors.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face, treating her as though she were delicate and special. “You are mine.”
A warmth spread over Celestria. Although it wasn’t the declaration of love her father had given her mother at their first meeting, her warrior’s possessive words had been infused with a heart-pounding passion.
“You felt it too.” She beamed at him. “You felt the connection between us.” She ran her hands up and down his cock, maintaining a steady rhythm. “We were meant to be together.” She cupped his balls, and he jerked.
“Do you not like to be touched here?” She rolled him in her fingers, her arms aching, her body taxed beyond its limits. She’d please him, her warrior.
“I like it too much, mate. I will spill my seed in your hands.” Red streaked over his scarred cheekbones.
“Your seed might soften my rough hands.” Celestria laughed, overjoyed, not having expected to find her husband here, to live to see the nightfall. She returned both of her hands to his cock, stroking him.
She studied his clothing, her aunt having taught her how to judge a man’s rank by his garments. Her warrior was a knight yet his clothing was plain, unadorned by gemstones or gold. He matched her station and that pleased Celestria. She would be his equal, adding her meager wealth to his, bettering both of them.
“I have land,” she shared, envisioning their future, a simple life filled with happiness and love. “It is not a vast amount of land, and there is no keep, but a strong able knight and his lady could build a life there.”
He grunted, moving into her hands.
Her fingers cramped painfully. “Mercy,” she gasped, releasing him. She shook her hands in the air, attempting to wave away the agony.
He caught her wrists, his fingers as coarse and calloused as hers. “You are hurt, mate.”
“I will finish.” Celestria pulled her hands out of his hold, wanting to please him, to convince him she would be a worthy wife. “I will ease your battle lust with my mouth.” She sank to her knees before him, the ground soft. “In this, I require training also.” She gazed up at him. “Tell me what to do.”
“You are fearless, little warrior.” He wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock as though offering himself to her. “Lick me.”
“Aye.” She extended her tongue and licked his cockhead, tasting the essence of him. “You are delicious.”
Her big male groaned. “Then suck me, Lady…”
“Celestria.” She followed the vein in his shaft with her tongue. “Lady Celestria of the North Mountains is sucking your cock.” She pushed her lips over his tip and slowly inhaled him, sucking gently, her cheeks indenting around his shaft.
“Aye, Celestria, my lady, my mate.” The muscles in his thighs rippled.
His lady. She smiled around his cock, her lips touching his fingers. His tip tapped the back of her throat. She pulled back, maintaining her suction.
He buried the fingers of his free hand in her loose curls, cupping her skull, his grip possessively tight, silently communicating that she belonged to him. She was his. She would do this with no other man.
He guided her up and down his shaft, setting a ruthless rhythm. Celestria followed his lead, relying on him to train her in this skill as a warrior was trained in battle tactics.
He grunted, driving his hips forward, passion flashing in his gray eyes, bolts of lightning signaling his rising need, a need she inspired. She gripped his ass cheeks, holding onto him, as he used her mouth, rutting into her with awe-inspiring intensity.
His balls slapped against her chin. His black short curls tickled her nose. Her lips hummed, and her jaw ached. Smoke curled around them, creating a private sanctuary for the two of them. Voices faded and the shameless sounds of his hard cock ravishing her wet mouth filled her ears.
Celestria dug her blunt fingernails into his ass and silver scales shimmered over his skin. She gazed up at him. She’d heard tales of dragon men. Are these tales true?
“Mate.” Her warrior bared shockingly sharp teeth, his face stretched tight. He was not human. She saw that truth in his eyes. But he was hers and she would please him.
She bobbed over him faster and faster. Pain pricked her scalp. Talons had extended from his hands, the tips deadly. Celestria continued to suck on his cock, focusing on his pleasure, trusting him not to hurt her.
“I am close,” he rumbled, the sound resembling thunder.
He released her, and she surged forward, taking him fully in her mouth, sucking hard. He threw his head back, bowing his spine, and roared, flames licking around his lips and hot cum spurting from his cock, shooting down her throat. He was powerful, male, more beast than man, and he belonged to her.
She swallowed, milking him, draining him until there was no more. He shuddered, his big body shaking, and he dropped to his knees, his cock slipping from her lips, down her chin.
He would declare his love now, as her father had declared his love to her mother. Celestria gazed at him, waiting, her heart pounding.
“My mate.” He drew her into his arms, his rigid chest plate flattening her small breasts. She lifted her chin, and he captured her lips. His mouth was hot, his tongue branding hers, and she moaned, pressing closer to him.
“I am Grau of Starke.” He rested his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching, their breaths mingling.
“Grau of Starke,” Celestria repeated, savoring the bluntness of his name.
The Lord of Starke was renowned as a fierce warrior. Her brothers spoke of him with much admiration. She traced the scars on Grau’s rugged face, unable to conceive a warrior who fought better than he had. “Did I please you, Sir Grau?”
His lips curled upward. “You pleased me, Lady Celestria, very much.”