Page 41 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

And what if the captives see me as a villain as well?

These women might view me as the enchantress who ruins everything, the careless daughter of the powerful man who stood by the Queen’s side while she dragged Elekstan through a debilitating war.

They might despise me for trying to save the dragons at all, especially after the dragons joined with Vohrain and killed so many of Elekstan’s people.

They might believe that I should have done more to facilitate their escape and less to encourage lovemaking.

But another part of me is convinced that the women should fall to their knees and thank me.

They should bless my name for not turning them into dragons and for giving them a plethora of handsome men instead.

They should be glad for the supplies that I brought with me.

Those provisions may have saved their lives.

The food I paid for held off starvation, and without the clothes I donated, some of these people would have died of exposure during the storm.

But maybe, in spite of all that, they will hate me.

Not long ago I was eager to leave the cave for any reason, especially a party with food and firelight… and now I can barely move.

I’ve grown used to facing fears alone—not just facing them, but dancing with them, mocking them, teasing them with all the bravado I can muster. When I don’t feel bold, I fake it.

It’s easier and harder to do that with Ashvelon here. He offers security and safety, which bolster my confidence, and yet he also knows me better than anyone else, which means he’ll perceive the truth beneath any act I put on.

“Be yourself,” he says quietly, almost as if he hears my thoughts. “I fell in love with you the moment you trapped me in the stable. Be that woman, and they will love you too. And if they don’t, fuck them.”

Despite my nerves, I laugh, and he grins. Taking a deep breath, I hold back my shoulders, lift my head high, and renew my grip on Ashvelon’s arm. Hips swaying, I saunter forward with a self-assured smile, ready to face whatever reception they might give me.

As we enter the circle of light around the first fire, the other women notice me gradually, in groups of two or three. They whisper together without approaching me, though they seem to be awed and respectful rather than bitter.

The dragons survey Ashvelon’s human form with interest, their nostrils flexing as they identify his familiar scent, perceptible even through the veil of my spell.

Reassured, they bow their heads respectfully.

Only two of the dragons glare at me with pent-up fury, and they stay at the edge of the firelight, in the shadows.

The first woman to approach me is tall, with the muscle definition of a warrior and coloring similar to mine. “Welcome, enchantress,” she says. “You are Thelise, yes?”

“I am.”

“I’m Bryenne, former knight of the Crown. We’re so pleased you could join us. We have much to thank you for.”

Relief drains the tension from my shoulders. “I take it you found a pleasant companion with whom to weather the storm?”

She smirks, biting her lip. “Three of them, in fact. Jaerix, Runaris, and Zaedian.”

My eyes widen. “Three? Fuck me. Are you—do you need healing? During the mating heat, that must have been… intense.”

She laughs. “I’m perfectly fine. When I’m tired or sore, they fuck each other.”

Ashvelon makes a choking sound and we both turn to look at him.

“I think you’ve shocked him,” I say sidelong to Bryenne.

“No,” Ashvelon protests. “Surprised, not shocked. I didn’t know that Runaris and Jaerix—that is to say, Zaedian always—I’m delighted with any arrangement that is pleasing to everyone. Did any of the males breed you? ”

I clamp a hand over his mouth. “You must forgive Ashvelon,” I tell the knight apologetically. “He is working on mastering the poetry of words, but it often eludes him, and sometimes he blurts out things that are quite inappropriate.”

Ashvelon raises an eyebrow at me as if to accuse me of the same thing. I only smirk and return my attention to Bryenne. “I’m pleased you weathered the storm well.”

“We did. And yes, there are three eggs in our cave. One of my mates is watching over them. His stomach was unsettled after the hunt, and he preferred to stay behind.”

“And the other two?”

“There.” She nods to a pair of dragons who are sharing a cow carcass. “Come to the fire. We have far more palatable food, including some of the venison that Ashvelon brought, I believe. It’s been well-seasoned and roasted to perfection.”

My mouth is already watering with anticipation, and when she brings me a trencher of the meat, I can’t help moaning a little. I sit on a chunk of a fallen tree, digging in with my fingers, heedless of the hot grease. Bryenne smiles and leaves me to enjoy the food.

Ashvelon stands nearby, his eyes on the venison, licking his lips.

I look up at him innocently from beneath my lashes. “Do you want some of this, pet?”

He nods.

“Sit at my feet, then.”

To his credit, he doesn’t hesitate, even though we’re surrounded by proud dragons who might think him foolish for debasing himself before me. He sits at my feet, lifting his blue eyes to mine.

I dip my index finger in the venison juices and trace his lower lip. “Open.”

He obeys, sucking on my finger .

“Good boy.” I pull off a small chunk of the meat. “Open wider.”

When he complies, I place the bite on his tongue. He chews, never taking his eyes from me, and I relish the seductive motion of his mouth.

I lean down to him, my lips close to his ear. “I wish I could fuck you right now.”

His breath catches and a muscle along his jaw flexes. “Don’t tempt me, Thelise,” he murmurs. “I will pick you up right now, carry you into the forest, and take you against a tree.”

“Enticing,” I whisper. “But my hunger for the venison is more compelling, I’m afraid.”

His voice deepens to a growl of dark promise. “Later, then. May I have another bite?”

“If you’re good and quiet, you may.”

His fingers slide around my ankle, toying with the bangle. “I can be very good.”

He could go and fetch his own portion, of course.

There’s plenty of food. But we both enjoy this game—the seductive thrill of power and submission.

I press my foot between his thighs and discover that his cock is thick and hard.

My toes curl against his length through the fabric, and he releases a harsh breath.

“Watch me eat,” I say softly. “And then you may have your own portion.”

Perhaps it’s strange to take on these roles before others, in an area where eyes will be drawn to us out of sheer curiosity.

But truthfully, the public display of our dynamic only enhances my arousal, and I suspect Ashvelon feels the same way.

I remove my foot from his cock while I finish my meal, though he remains on his knees before me.

No one else approaches while I’m eating. When I’m done, I direct Ashvelon to walk away and compose himself before he goes to fill his own trencher .

While he’s gone, a couple more women come over to greet me. One offers me a portion of the root vegetable mash she has made, and I gratefully accept. After a brief conversation, they move on, and two other women bid me welcome.

As they’re introducing themselves, I hear a cry from the farthest bonfire, then a massive retching, choking sound.

“Gracious!” exclaims the dainty girl in front of me, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Is someone sick?”

About twenty paces away, a dragon with green scales falls on his side, panting hard, a long moan rattling from his throat. A red dragon with curved spikes begins to heave, then vomits copious amounts of masticated meat and bile from his jaws.

One woman screams, and several others voice exclamations of shock and disgust.

Cold dread cloaks my bones and I rise, letting the trencher fall into the grass. Ashvelon reappears from the darkness and moves to my side, his hand circling my arm just above the elbow, assuring me of his presence.

Another dragon vomits, and two more of them keel over, seeming to have lost all their strength in an instant.

“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no. Not after everything. No .”

“What is happening?” The dainty girl’s eyes are full of tears.

“Ashvelon, how do you feel?” I ask. “Any pains?”

“None.”

“And you didn’t eat any of the prey from the Middenwold before now?”

“No. You think…”

“I think it’s poisoned.” I raise my hand, motioning for Bryenne to approach. She runs over to me, and I say tersely, “We need to tell everyone to stop eating the meat. Go to the other fires and let the dragons know.”

“At once, Enchantress.” She sprints toward the second bonfire .

I stride forward into the glow of the first fire and lift both hands, raising my voice. “Stop eating the meat! Humans and dragons alike—eat no more of the meat from the Middenwold Isles!”

A thick liquid groan from another vomiting dragon drowns out my words, so I shout them again. Ashvelon quietly strips off his clothing, transforms into his dragon shape, and takes to the air, bellowing the warning.

“Fly to the caves,” I call up to him. “Tell any other dragons who might have stayed with their eggs. Warn them that the meat may be poisoned. And then go back to our cave and fetch my bag. You know the one.”

With an affirming growl, he soars away into the night.

I’m left in the firelit circle, surrounded by chattering, anxious women and most of the dragon clan, all of whom are taking turns being violently sick.

The smell… the awful fucking smell . It’s enough to make me want to retch, and I’m fairly sure I’m not poisoned.

None of the women seem to be, even though we all ate the meat.

Granted, it was cooked, but cooking doesn’t necessarily counter poison.

It could be another sort of contamination.

I won’t know until I have my supplies and I can test it.