Ragnar: Dragon Lord of Wye Page 10

  Her fingers traced a path up the wing’s main bone, a forearm, she guessed, and branching down to the smaller bones. Again, it was the texture of velvet over steel. The wings themselves were a leathery member, supple as butter and his shoulder slumped with pleasure as she stroked the wings.

  “No more, mate, or I will spill my seed.”

  She didn’t want that. Or did she?

  Priya pressed herself to his back, one hand between his wing and the other reached around, stroking his cock. “I think you should. Take the edge off.”

  “Mate—”

  “Show me how to touch you.”

  He growled and Priya felt it in her entire body, lighting her up with a new level of desire. His hand wrapped over hers as he worked his cock, using her hand as a tool. She watched, fascinated, as his large hand worked his length, twisting subtly at the end and coming back for the down stroke.

  Lost to the rhythm, her free hand worked the base of his wings, stroking to match the pace he set. His strong back quivered and Priya knew he was close.

  He came with a roar, hot seed pilling onto their hands and the floor. In an instant, he turned on her, ripping off her tank top and panties. He fell to his knees and pulled her down, thighs on either side of his lap and directly onto his cock.

  Priya gasped as she stretched around his thickness She had been wet and aching for him but it was invasive and wonderful and overwhelming. Ragnar caressed her breasts, one in each hand, leaving one covered in his seed. She looked down, surprised but accepting that his seed belonged on her. In her.

  He pinched her nipples, working them to hard peaks and then popped one into his mouth. Priya’s head fell back and she moaned. She needed motion. Friction. She rolled her hips.

  Ragnar chuckled. He now held her ass, a cheek in each hand, and he lifted her, sliding her along the length of his cock. At the head, he dropped her, surging up in a hard thrust. Priya shouted in delight. He worked her up and down his thick length just as he had worked her hand. She was a tool for him to use and every sensation was perfect.

  “You are my mate,” he growled. “Mine. No other will have you.”

  Breathless, she nodded. Yes, his. Of course.

  He worked her harder. Stars, she couldn’t think.

  “Tell me. Say it,” he commanded.

  “Yes! Yours!” She’d say anything. The onslaught of sensation overwhelmed her.

  “And I will build a nest for my mate.” Another hard thrust. “And we’ll fill it with nestlings.” He slammed her down on his cock, all the way to the hilt and she felt every inch of him.

  “Yes! Stars, yes!” A home, a family, all that; marriage with Ragnar seemed not only sincere but inevitable. Her climax took her suddenly, hot and cold all at once, thighs trembling, core clenching him, and her voice ragged.

  Ragnar held her until the last tremors left. Tenderly, he found her lips and moved again, pumping to reach his end. He came with a roar, loud enough to shake the wall, loud enough to wake everyone on the ship. She didn’t care. She couldn’t think beyond the scalding hot seed pumping into her, coating her womb.

  His arms tightened around her and he nuzzled his face to her neck. “Mine,” he said, tone content.

  ***

  Ragnar stroked her hair. “You are quiet. Did I injure you?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Explain this sadness, then.”

  Priya knew she shouldn’t be content to curl up next to him, to let him stroke and pet her with affection. She couldn’t afford to care because despite all his pretty words, she knew it wasn’t real.

  “Do not deny it. There are no secrets between mates,” he said.

  The snort was automatic. “Mates, right.”

  Ragnar rolled her to her back and pinned her to the mattress. His hips settled comfortably between her thighs, like he belonged there. “Mates. I will build us a nest. You accepted.”

  His gaze was so intense, so sincere, she had to look away. “You don’t have to keep up the act. You got what you needed and your Fever is over. I know this doesn’t mean anything.”

  His large hands gripped either side of her head, forcing her to hold his gaze. “You think this means nothing?”

  With barely any warning, his cock entered her, swift and gentle. He moved slowly and with tight, controlled power, holding her gaze and forcing intimacy. His pupils expanded, turning his eyes nearly black except for the thinnest ring of verdant green. Her own eyes watered, shocked at his need for her. Every pump of his hips matched a down stroke of his wings. The connection overwhelmed her. She wouldn’t last long.

  Her hips bucked, urging him faster and harder but he refused to change the pace.

  Her climax broke, sending her over with a shout. Ragnar followed, thrusting hard and growling into the base of her neck. The vibrations heightened the sensations rolling through her.

  When he finally stilled, he licked the cords of her neck before raising his eyes. Hair disheveled after a long night and skin slick with sweat, he could not have been more gorgeous than in that moment.

  “This means everything,” he said. “I love you.”

  And she believed him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ragnar

  He recited the family genealogy one more time.

  “Your sisters are Laran and Aelth. Wait, I thought the queen didn’t have any granddaughters and that’s why she got all meddling with Korven.”

  “They are from my mother’s first marriage. They are Laran and Aelth ban Wrax Sorrel. I am Ragnar bin Raes Sorrel.”

  “Right, right.” She rubbed her chin, repeating the names in a melodic chant. She claimed it helped her remember. He found it charming. “So, you’re the only royal grandchild?”

  “My father is a prince, yes.”

  “Do I call him that? His highness? Prince Raes?”

  Ragnar shrugged. “My parents are not one to stand on ceremony but my older sister is snob. Your highness first, I think. He should invite you to call him Raes.”

  “And your mother is Lady Sorrel? Your sisters are ladies, also?”

  “Yes. Aelth should always be called Lady Aelth. She gets her wings out of joint about these things.”

  “Dang, your family is complicated.”

  “And your family is loud,” he replied quickly.

  “Hardly the same thing.”

  “Seems important to me when I’m trying to sleep.”

  Priya rolled her big brown eyes but he could see the mischief. She was amused. “Sleeping… Right. That’s what you’re calling it when you’re trying to get some?”

  “Sharing a nest?” He leaned in, his hands planted on either side of her shoulders and pressed her against the seat back. Her eyes went wide and that supple pink tongue licked her bottom lip. He rumbled in appreciation, wanting to capture that pink tongue and let it tangle with his own, feel her softness against him. “Every night? Until you cry with completion, your perfect breasts heaving and panting and begging me—”

  A voice broke through on the comm. “Unidentified craft, this is the Drake’s Anthem. You are in Wyer territory. Produce your authorization immediately or leave. Do not proceed or your vessel will be destroyed.”

  “So serious.” Priya pushed Ragnar away. “Drake’s Anthem, this is the New Leaf. I am transporting Lord Ragnar bin Raes Sorrel. Sorry if I didn’t fill out the paperwork correctly.”

  “Authorization, please,” came the response.

  “Sure thing. Just as soon as Lord Ragnar figures out how to turn on the communication panel. It’s that button. No, the other one.”

  “Authorization. Now.”

  Priya

  Ragnar rattled off a string of numbers and letters. Satisfied, Drake’s Anthem gave them clearance to land and coordinates of approved landing locations.

  Ragnar promptly deleted those coordinates and entered his own.

  “Any particular reason for that?” Priya asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, authorized landing areas are little mor
e than paved concrete. We might as well land on my family’s estate.”

  Priya made an announcement for the passengers to secure themselves and entered the atmosphere with hardly a bump. Critics could say what they would about the uninspired designed of the Conestoga model, but the cargo workhorse was a smooth ride.

  As they approached the coordinates, visuals came onto the screen. From the air, the estate seemed to be an innocuous collection of buildings, green fields and trees. Lots of trees. Ragnar said he was from the forested area of Wye, she just didn’t appreciate the density of that forest.

  “A field? You want me to land in a field?”

  “A fallow field, yes. I’ve landed ships there before.”

  “Fine, but you’re cleaning the mud out of the landing gears.”

  The Barbers went into a flurry of activity. Despite traveling for two weeks, despite being told that they would reach their destination that day, despite being given a countdown, no one was packed. Typical. Priya shoved clean underwear and a hairbrush into a bag. She had no idea what would happen in the following days but she needed clean underwear.

  Outside, summer was in full force. The afternoon air was stifling with barely a breeze and the sun hovered just above the treetops, ready to slide down into evening. A pair of tall, stately Wyers waited with an open wagon drawn by a six-legged horse. Both had wings, the crash course in Wyer etiquette reminded her, they were Wyverns; nobility.

  The woman was statuesque and timeless, her scales and wings a deep blue. Silver streaked her dark hair. The man had to be Ragnar’s father, Prince Raes. The resemblance was uncanny. Tall and too-handsome-for-his-own-good, he appeared exactly as she imagined Ragnar would in thirty years, down to the vivid green wings. Perhaps softer at the edges. Mellowed.

  Ragnar took her hand and led her forward. “Mother, Father. May I present Priya Marie Barber, my mate.”

  Lady Sorrel rushed forward and wrapped Priya in an inflexible embrace. “Look at you! Look at those hips! I told you, Raes. Didn’t I? We’ve been researching Terrans and did you know that you have a mating cycle every month? Every month! I’m going to have so many grandnestlings.”

  Ragnar made the introduction quickly for the rest of the family while Lady Sorrel continued to smother Priya in her embrace.

  “And your hair! It’s dark but red in the sun! I did not know Terrans could change colors like that. It’s subtle but I approve,” Sorrel continued to chatter in Priya’s ear, not letting her go.

  “Smell her hair, mother,” he said. “It’s remarkable.” He lifted a lock to demonstrate. Priya shot him a dagger-filled looked and he smirked in return.

  “Apples! How extraordinary. Is that natural or a perfume?”

  “It’s my shampoo,” Priya said, finally breaking free.

  Sorrel turned her tidal wave of attention to Ragnar. “Look at your wings! My nestling is all grown up. How was your Fever? How was this little Terran able to share the burden of your fire? Did you injure her? She doesn’t look injured but how can you tell when she’s all covered up like this. And your wings! Such a wide span. Flex them again for me.”

  Prince Raes rescued her and Ragnar from Sorrel’s enthusiasm. “Forgive my wife. Her youngest has finally left the nest and she looks forward to being a grandmother.”

  “She’s already a grandmother,” Ragnar said.

  “Laran hardly ever visits,” Sorrel said. “She claims the palace court keeps her busy but I don’t see how. Is she always this quiet?” She fixed her attention back to Priya.

  Ragnar intervened, taking her arm. “We’ve had a long journey in a small ship. I’m sure we’d all appreciate a meal and then bed.”

  “Of course,” Raes said, sweeping a hand to the wagon. “We’ll have a small dinner and then rest.”

  Nisha bounced around the draft horse, who stoically ignored her. “Does he have a name? Can I ride him?”

  “Later,” Nora said, hustling her child onto the wagon.

  The back held bushels of leafy green vegetables with bright purple veins and something resembling a potato. Ragnar climbed in first and then help Priya up but settling down with her in his lap. “Don’t mind the cargo,” he whispered in her ears. “My parents aren’t the kind of aristocrats who sit around all day in luxury.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad they didn’t make a special trip just for us. But why the horse and wagon? Seems archaic.”

  “My father is a scholar. He likes ancient technology and has the credit to indulge.”

  Ah. The horse and wagon was Prince Raes’s toy. She understood perfectly.

  She settled in, resting against the warmth of Ragnar’s solid chest and enjoyed the sunshine on her face. Before everything had gone wrong for her parents, Priya had worked nonstop courier jobs trying to pay off the debt. She hadn’t had a day off in ages and she certainly hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.

  She must have fallen asleep because the next moment Ragnar carried her inside a white stone building. The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the cold stone.

  Dinner was simple, just them plus the addition of Ragnar’s sister Aelth. He cautioned Priya that Aelth, while older than him by two years, was as petty as a spoiled child. Recently widowed, she’d moved back to the family nest.

  Aelth was, of course, beautiful and elegant. Tall and slender, she had hair as dark as the night and wore an emerald green gown that fit her so perfectly it had to be tailored. Her makeup was flawless, her face carefully painted to be appear natural. She was stunning. Too bad all that time, effort and credit spent on her appearance was ruined but the ugly sneer on her immaculate lips.

  Lady Sorrel and Nora discussed wedding plans. Sorrel had several ideas already in motion and wanted Nora’s input. Priya barely paid attention. Though they dined casually, the dining room was constructed of rich materials: hardwoods polished to a gleaming finish, crystal lamps, and paintings of old-fashioned looking Wyverns on the walls. Ancestors, she figured. It was exactly like the set of one of those ancient Terran costume dramas she loved, not including the winged aliens, of course.

  “What do you think, Priya?”

  She focused her attention back on the conversation. “Hmm? Sorry, my mind wandered.”

  “A dress fitting tomorrow?” Nora asked. “Lady Sorrel has already engaged a dressmaker for you and has several samples for you to try.”

  “Sure. Sounds great.” She needed to wear something. Couldn’t get married in her comfy stretch pants and work boots.

  “Is the meal not to your taste?” Sorrel asked.

  “No, it’s amazing. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Nisha and Nathaniel snickered. Priya shot a hard look to quiet them.

  “I think we’d all appreciate a good night’s sleep,” Nora said. “We don’t want our bride looking worn out.”

  Ragnar

  He found his sister in the parlor, lounging on a sofa, with a drink of amber colored liquor in one hand.

  “Little brother! Come join me. Have a viski.”

  He accepted a glass but did not sip. He had unpleasant words to say to Aelth and he did not need his tongue loosened.

  “Oh, you’ve got that serious frown. I hate that expression.” She frowned dramatically.

  “Sister, you have my respect always but tonight you were rude to my mate.” There. Best to get the venom out now.

  “You’re not honestly going to make that Terran your mate, are you? Besides, I hardly said a word to her.”

  “You talked about her like she wasn’t there. You don’t actually have to speak to a person to be rude, Aelth.”

  Her glossy, ruby red lip stuck out in a pout. “You’re no fun anymore.”

  How had he never noticed that her beautiful exterior hid her inner ugliness?

  “Priya is my mate.”

  “Because she called your Fever? Yes, I heard you tell mother that. How sweet. You know, you don’t have to marry every female you maul during the Fever.”

&nb
sp; This was a familiar tactic. Ragnar reminded himself that he loved his sister, but he didn’t always like her.

  Aelth continued, “I don’t know why you want to marry a weak little Terran. That stunt got Prince Korven exiled, after all.”

  “That is not why Korven was exiled.” As he spoke, Ragnar realized he had avoided one trap and walked into another. The only way to deal with Aelth was to ignore her insults and wild speculation.

  “Really?” Aelth leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Because I heard—”

  “He disobeyed a direct order from the Queen. You know she had to punish him to maintain stability.” A queen who allowed anyone, even her grandchild, to defy a direct order was a queen who found herself deposed. Wyverns required their monarchs to rule with an iron fist, which was one of the reasons Ragnar had never cared for politics. The bloodshed was without honor and only about maintaining power.

  Aelth slouched back on the sofa, disappointed Ragnar wouldn’t play. “She’s pretty in her own way, I suppose.”

  “She is my mate and my love. If you cannot respect her, you will avoid her.”

  “Boring,” she said, adding too many syllables.

  There was no point in this conversation. “We’re done here,” he said, moving to leave.

  “Come back, little brother. We used to have so much fun—”

  He ignored her. He desired to spend the evening with his mate. There was something he wanted to show her. He wanted to see delight and wonder in her eyes. He also wanted to bend her over and sink into her warm hot core, but delight and wonder was good, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Priya

  Priya was given a bedroom on the first floor. Double glass doors opened onto a stone patio, overlooking the lush gardens. Moonlight gleamed silver off the leaves and the air was filled with a sweet, floral scent. Admiring the way the gauzy curtains moved in the air, Priya decided to sleep with the doors open. Fresh air. Such a novelty.