4. Dragon Lord
Dynarys rubbed his face vigorously and dunked his head beneath the tepid water of the pool. The bathhouse was not crowded this time of day and, for that, he could only thank the Six for small graces.
The carriage ride had been torture; pure, unadulterated torture. His member had risen as he followed the woman's sweetly curved backside into the small, private space, and it hadn't faded the entire distance. He finally decided to lull her into unconsciousness to prevent himself from acting foolishly. Still, he had spent the rest of the ride stroking her soft hair and inhaling her scent.
What in all hells was wrong with him?
He had seen many women that rivaled her looks. He had coupled with his share, too. Yet never had he been so tenuously close to losing control. Even now, the thought of her was doing things to his body that it shouldn't.
And the fact that she had another purpose and he most definitely shouldn't want her.
But he did.
The only satisfaction he had was that she was sequestered away for the moment, locked in an unused room of the barracks and guarded. He should be able to manage this short break from her presence to get that desire under control.
“She was looking at me, how could she miss this stunning physique?” A voice echoed into the pool chambers from the changing area, a voice he recognized. It is Strale.
The blond emerged, and plunged into the pool opposite Dynarys.
Cillumn followed, his tattoos shifting as he moved. Both wore tired, satisfied expressions and were damp with sweat. Dynarys guessed they had been sparing.
“Firestriker,” Cillumn nodded toward him, before lowering himself more sedately into the water.
“Ah, perfect, a third party,” Strale had surfaced and was nodding happily. “We can settle this easily. If you were a woman, Dynarys, which of us would be more likely to catch your attention?” He struck a pose, flexing the muscles of his stomach and back. “Me, or this mottled fellow?”
Dynarys groaned inwardly. Strale had no sense of propriety, even for the man that commanded the fighting force of the Aerie. Cillumn, at least, had the grace to look a little abashed.
He raised a skeptical brow in Strale's direction, but that only made the man flex harder.
“It is a moot point,” Cillumn told his friend. “Scet led her quite studiously away before she could admire either of us properly.”
“I am never a moot point. Perhaps you could be a moot point, Maybe she did not crush on either of us. Didn't you see Scet’s arm around her shoulder led her through the long corridor into a room at the end? ” Strale switched poses:” She seems enjoyed it, I wish I could feel her silky skin ”
Dynarys froze. Scet was the guard he had assigned to Gayriel's door. For this very reason, he did not need her wandering about the aerie tempting the other Lords, not to mention put his dirty hands on her. “
Anger, spurred by something a little deeper, saw him rise immediately from the pool, and storm toward the changing area. The dragon stirred within him, awakened by the rising emotions.
“I think you have offended the general,” he heard Cillumn mutter. He rounded the dividing wall that held his clothes and weapons.
“Nonsense...did you see how much longer even he looked at me?”Strale said.
Cillumn sensed Dynarys's unusual emotions. Dynarys had always been a mood-stable person, Cillumn stood up from the bath, followed Dynarys to the back of the dividing wall and said to Dynarys, "She is just a bedroom slave we bought back. A slave, a tool. She has an important use. Don't forget her mission."
Dynarys ignored him. He had to retrieve the woman, and someone would pay for their lasciviousness.
Gayriel kept her head lowered as she walked, focused on the heels of the guard in front of her.
What was so interesting? Surely they had seen women before?
She paused for a moment. Actually, she hadn’t seen a single woman since leaving the choosing house. No, it was impossible. They must have mothers, at least. But where did they hide them all?
She followed him from the lattice walkway and into another. The pattern in the new corridor resembled that of her confinement, except, here, the scale was much larger. The hall spread a longer distance, only four doors spread alternately along the sides.
The guard stopped before the last door on the right.
It was not locked, or even closed. The dark wood swung inward, revealing a beautifully decorated space. Two benches with blue plush cushions faced one another, centered over a richly detailed rug. The walls hung with paintings of colorful birds interspersed with more potted plants. A delicious scent wafted out toward them, some sort of baking, warm and inviting.
Who summoned her? Not Firestriker. The guard had mentioned a name, and it wasn’t his.* Tharissa*?
“Bring her in Scet,” a soft, decidedly feminine voice called.
The guard—Scet—motioned her inward to the space. She stepped past him, unsure how he would respond to being ordered about by a woman. His stiff demeanor might have been impossible to read had it not been for his outburst earlier.
“Come in,” a woman appeared through one of the arches.
Gayriel stared. The woman was older than her by a good ten years, but that didn’t detract from her beauty. She glowed with health, her tanned skin clean and soft. A genuine smile lit her face, highlighting high cheekbones and a set of startling green eyes. Chestnut curls were pulled back from her face. It added the illusion that her eyes were her biggest, and most striking feature.
She wore a simple violet gown, the neck low enough to showcase her ample breasts, but high enough to still be practical. Even the skirts were practical, hanging strait to her calves. Unlike Gayriel's own, that flounced to the ground and dragged behind as she walked.
The woman carried a tray with some form of dark bread in one hand, in the other, a platter of cheeses and two cups of liquid. She bent gently, as she neared, and set her burdens on the stone table between the two benches.
“Come in,” she insisted, so Gayriel made her way to the nearest bench. “Scet, take a sit in the sitting room.”
Scet grunted, but did not answer, and then the door closed.
“I am Tharissa,” the woman grinned, sitting opposite her.
“Gayriel,” she nodded, growing wary. Why had this woman summoned her? Who was she?
Tharissa must belong to Firestriker, as well, to summon her. But in what capacity? She was most definitely beautiful enough to be a sex slave, yet her clothes and demeanor suggested otherwise. His wife perhaps? But then why so friendly? At the least, a slave should be tolerated and ignored, not...talked to.
“It is always exciting when a new woman arrives. If you haven’t noticed, there is an abundance of men in the aerie. It makes one feel safe and secure, naturally, but it gets a little tiring.”
Gayriel nodded politely and said:” But you are the first female I met here Where is the rest of them? Tharissa paused,considering her.
“You will find it out. Please don’t take offense, but I am surprised it was Dynarys that brought you here. You must have done something impressive to catch his attention, he’s normally so...reticent.”
“Dynarys?”
“Er...” she frowned. “Have I heard wrong? The gossip is that Lord Dynarys Firestriker brought you to the aerie. We thought he quickly hid you away for himself.”
Ah, his given name. Dynarys. Hmmm, she struggled to think of him as anything other than Firestriker. Suddenly, things made more sense. Tharissa spoke as though Firestriker was not her consort at all; as though she only wished to welcome another woman to the aerie.
Gayriel shifted, uncomfortable with the idea. Tharissa didn’t know what she was: a mere slave, and a bedroom slave.
A thought occurred to her. If Tharissa believed she was here of her own will, perhaps she might give some information, such as which exit routes were the most used, something that might aid her dilemma.
“I did arrive with Lord Firestriker,” she confirmed. If Tharissa wished to believe her more than she was, she supposed she must let her, for now. With all luck, before the woman discovered her deception, Gayriel would be long gone; on her way to the southern kingdom, and freedom.
“He is mysterious and dark, that one. I wasn’t sure his dragon could mate. It frightened me that it might eat anyone who tried.”
Wait..What?
Her look must have given away her confusion.
“You haven’t seen the dragon yet, then,” she sighed, leaning back. “This is an aerie, the home of the dragons. Or, Dragon Lords is probably more accurate. Most of the men here are Dragon Lords, though quite a few are Shifters as well.”
“They control dragons?” She knew Firestriker had something to do with the beasts.
“They are dragons, sweetheart.”
Gayriel scowled, “I’m not sure I understand at all,” she admitted.
“I guess it is like two bodies and minds that share a soul. Sometimes they are beast and sometimes man; sometimes they are part of both.”
Suddenly, something solid slammed against the door. Hard.
Someone break into the room.
“Where. Is. She?” It is Firestriker! He sounded furious.