Dragon's Claim Page 7

  "What are you doing?" I ask, curious.

  "I am preparing to connect to the heart of Tajss about the storm," he explains, unwrapping the bundle. "While we give trouble time to travel far from our path," he adds.

  I nod, rubbing my palms on my thighs.

  Am I going to do this? All the reasons why I shouldn't float through my head for the millionth time. They're easily eclipsed by my desire to be closer to Bashir, closer to the man I'm growing to admire more and more the longer we spend together. Maybe if we weren't forced to hole up in this private, intimate space again. Maybe if Bashir hadn't comforted me when I needed it. But those things did happen, highlighting the attraction between us, circumstances conspiring so I can't push it aside anymore. I'm tired of fighting this attraction.

  Bashir is still watching me, a questioning look on his face at my proximity. I look at him squarely in the eye. I've made my decision, and I'm not afraid of going after what I want.

  "Why don't you connect with the heart of me?" I murmur.

  Brazen, yes, but I don't want to tiptoe around what I want now that I've accepted it. I don't want to waste any more time.

  Bashir doesn't seem to mind my approach. His eyes flare with heat as he slowly sets the bundle aside, and reaches out to pull me closer.

  I make a small sound as he sets his mouth on mine, his kiss hungry.

  Yes.

  I want this.

  I want more. I wrap my arms around his neck, his arms encircling my waist, the strength in them making me feel ultra-feminine as his tongue flirts with mine.

  There's no holding back my own response as my heart pounds, my legs squeeze together. My heated response only drives his higher, our passion mingling to create a combustible mixture I revel in.

  Bashir is extraordinary in every way.

  The attraction between us is undeniable, a force that can't be ignored, that I no longer want to ignore. I've been holding him at bay, keeping my guard up. I don't see the point in doing that now. Not anymore.

  Why reject a man who cares, a protector who is truly invested in who I am, in my safety? It seems beyond foolish.

  Perhaps I feel like this only because the stranger outside triggered those unwelcome memories. Brought my abduction right back up into my conscious mind, rather than the murky depths where I tried to keep it hidden away, even from myself. Even if that is true...I find I don't care. It simply doesn't matter, not with this tidal wave of passion that hits both of us upon contact.

  Even the parts of me still rebelling can't make a dent in it, not through the fevered rush that encompasses us now.

  There is no going back.

  I give in to him with a purpose, shoving at my own clothes, releasing the curves of my breasts, exposing myself to him with intent this time.

  I want him to touch me, touch me everywhere.

  The pale pink tips are already hard, drawn into tight points as Bashir looks down at them, his hand cupping first one, and then the other, his touch just a little rough.

  His control is as frayed as my own.

  I sigh as he lowers his head to take one sensitive point into his mouth, my hands grasping his horns, caressing them.

  He growls, the vibration sending a shudder through me, my center clenching with arousal. This is so much more than I could have imagined. So much hotter, so much more intense than I thought it would be.

  He's always so in control, always so calm. Not now. He's letting himself go.

  And my response to him matches. Because I want him not just with my body, but with all of me.

  I ache for him to be inside me.

  As if he can hear that thought, he picks me up, his face nuzzling against mine as he takes us over to the softest travel bag, laying me down on top of it with care. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes devouring me as he slides his hands down my body. I arch into the touch.

  It feels good to be so wanted.

  Gripping my thighs, he gently parts my legs, pushing them wide.

  Then he stops just to stare. Savoring the sight of me spread in front of him. The ache deepens, creeping towards a maddening intensity. I bite my lip as he looks his fill.

  "You are so beautiful, Penelope," he murmurs, the ache in his own voice daring me not to believe him. His eyes meet mine, the look in them both hopeful and...waiting. "Are you my treasure?"

  My first instinct is to deflect the question, avoid the question and the reason behind it.

  But...

  He asks the question as though he won't keep going, won't proceed until he knows that I'm giving myself to him fully, that I want more than just this physical passion, just his body.

  I reach out to pull him to me. He lets me bring him closer, but that's it.

  His erection is impossibly large, a bead of pre-cum already forming at the tip. He wants to go further, wants this just as much as I do. But his determination to get a clear answer from me is stronger than his physical desire. He won't budge until he gets some sort of commitment from me.

  "Are you mine?" he asks again, the eye contact intense, his hard length butting up against where I want him.

  It's driving me crazy!

  "Bashir," I moan, pushing against him.

  "Give yourself to me, Penelope," he growls, his hand clenching on my hip. He’s clenching his jaw, fighting himself not to give me what I want.

  What we both want.

  But he's still forcing me to decide. And I realize...there really isn't a decision to make in that moment.

  Rising up on my arms, I kiss him, hot and clinging, my desperation to have him clear. I don't try to hide it. He deserves the same honesty he gives me.

  I break the kiss, moving back just far enough so I can speak. My lips brush up against his as I do.

  "I give myself to you, Bashir," I whisper, his eyes so close to mine I could count every long lash. "I give myself."

  I barely have the last word out before his mouth is back on mine, before he reaches between us to take ahold of himself and push against me, come in where I want him to be so badly. I moan into his mouth as he enters me, stretching me wide around his girth.

  The fit is tight.

  He goes slowly and gently at first, letting me adjust to his impressive size. It takes some time. I slowly relax around him, my hands gripping his skin as I breathe deeply. The slow-and-gentle doesn't last long, not once my body gives way to his.

  His rhythm turns less smooth, less perfect as he rises onto his arms, his hot eyes raking my length, devouring me. He's hot, almost feral as his animalistic nature rises from his core.

  I shiver at the hint of danger, his hips pushing hard against me, filling me so completely I feel owned in the best way possible. His big hands knead my breasts, slide down my legs, cup my hips with a strength just this side of bruising, his exploration of me turning feverish.

  I meet him touch for touch. My breath comes in gasps as I trail my fingertips along the ridges of his wings, watching as his eyes cloud even further from the intimate touch. I smooth my hands over his hard chest, his arms, the muscled length of his stomach. Every inch of him is perfect.

  My eyes slip close as the pleasure overwhelms me, claiming my awareness of our surroundings. I'm not thinking of anything but him, of how he's making me feel. I’m falling, plunging deeper into myself, further than I've ever explored. There's a little fear there, but not enough to hold back.

  I cry out as my body clenches with my release, waves of thought-erasing pleasure embracing me as Bashir groans above me, his grip tightening as he follows before I'm finished, my body milking his length.

  I feel both lost and found as we merge, our bodies meshing even as our spirits touch in a blissful union.

  This is more than sex.

  More than a physical act.

  If it wasn't Bashir, I may have been more frightened.

  But it is him.

  And I trust him.

  I drift back to myself slowly, breathing hard, sweating. Bashir pulls out gently and lies down next
to me, pulling me close, holding me tightly. I cuddle into his body as the sweat slowly cools on our skin.

  Wow.

  I lay my hand over the steady beat of his heart, rising onto an elbow to look at his face. He looks a little tense, his gaze unfocused as he thinks. When he looks over at me, I see a hint of fear in his eyes. A small, clinging fear. And I know why.

  After what just happened, I also know why he pushed so hard for commitment. He's afraid that he's given himself fully and that I have not.

  Feeling my heart clench, I lean down to kiss him tenderly, rubbing my lips against him as I pet his chest in soothing strokes.

  I can't promise to understand his ways, but I'm willing to try. I can give him that. I can give my honest, willing desire to be his companion.

  To...love him.

  Even just thinking the word makes me anxious, makes me feel like I'm not in control. But that ship has already sailed. I can't help what I already feel. Bashir broke through my defenses long before this, and no amount of trying to push him out has worked.

  Subconsciously, I tried to annoy him into letting go of me, something I can see now looking back. Whatever it is in him that staked that claim on me can't be budged with any strength of opposition I can muster. Or be blocked by my usual walls.

  The idea of opening myself up fully to anyone terrifies me. I'm unfamiliar with the deep levels of trust that it requires.

  With Bashir...it isn't as scary as it once seemed. He's not my father. He's as different as a man can be. And our relationship is completely different as well.

  With my parents, it was my mother who was devoted, who harbored the undying, unconditional love for my father. It caused her own sense of self to wither away to nothing in the end when he so callously left her.

  This...what I have with Bashir...is completely different. I would be a fool to leave it unexplored because of problems that have nothing to do with him. The truth is, I find I don't even have the ability to deny him, not any more. I can't fight myself forever.

  I settle down next to Bashir again, my head cushioned on his shoulder. It feels like a new beginning. A good one.

  We stay there for a bit longer, cuddled together, enjoying the closeness. But we can't stay there forever. Bashir finally judges it's likely safe to leave, though I can see his own desire to stay as well.

  Responsibility really is a bitch sometimes.

  As soon as we are outside again, I feel like we are on a completely different journey than we were before the time spent in the spring. I don't feel that same tension between us, the emotions that had me snapping at him and perhaps making rash decisions simply to make a point that doesn't really matter.

  When he takes the lead this time, I have no problem with it. He's right. He's more experienced here on Tajss and better able to lead the way. Now that I'm thinking with a clear head instead of defensively, I can see that more easily. However, we don't go far before Bashir stops abruptly.

  "What is it?" I whisper, glancing around, trying to find what has him reacting.

  I don't see anything, but the land isn't completely flat here. There are places to hide.

  "We should go this way," he explains, his eyes opening. "We may encounter those we heard earlier in the other direction."

  I look the way we had been going, frowning.

  "Are you certain?" I ask. "It will add more time and distance to correct ourselves later..."

  "I have not severed the connection to Tajss," he explains. "If I listen, I can hear the danger. I am certain."

  I hesitate, but then nod, following the new path with him. I don't know what I felt when he had me connect to Tajss, but I certainly felt...something. Enough not to dismiss what he's telling me now. Better to be cautious then regret it later.

  We continue like this, adjusting the course when Bashir deems it necessary. At another point, Bashir steers us away from a sand dune in our path.

  "Ioza," he explains. "The orange of the flowers is visible from here. Their spores induce euphoria and encourage sleep, so the vines may drain the blood from your body."

  I blink at him. Then look back at the vines I can now see, interspersed with those orange flowers. Well, okay then. I'm totally on board with steering away from that direction.

  We keep moving, making good time despite the necessary detours. I wipe my brow, my muscles burning from the continuous exercise, trying not to let the grueling travel get to me. To distract myself, I ponder on finding a safe way to harvest Ioza spores. The medical uses would be—

  Bashir spins over to me and grabs me by the waist, his hard arm tight around me as he leaps into the air. My stomach drops as I latch onto him, my heart giving a hard thump, his flapping wings keeping us up in the air.

  I open my mouth to ask what is going on, but then spot the reason. A large, lizard like creature crests the nearby dune, the humps on its back sporting vicious spikes. From what I can see of its teeth, they aren't much friendlier looking.

  "Guster," Bashir mutters in a low voice. "Stay quiet."

  He doesn't have to tell me twice. It moves quickly on its four sturdy legs, the webbed feet helping it glide across the sand, its sinuous movements silent as it passes by our laden cart, full of travel bags.

  I watch with bated breath as it circles the cart, its leathery skin obviously tough even from this distance. Will it be drawn to the food? Was it packed tightly enough?

  I let out a sigh of relief. It doesn't linger when it doesn't find prey. I watch as it disappears over the next rise. All told, the encounter lasts just seconds—only because Bashir was able to take us out of danger with his leap.

  We hit the ground—the Zmaj aren't meant to fly, simply glide—as soon as the animal is out of sight.

  "We must move quickly. It could decide to turn around and explore further," Bashir says in a low voice, taking hold of the cart again.

  I nod. We push harder after that and it takes me a bit of time to stop looking over my shoulder for that leathery skin and sinuous movement. The suns are unrelenting, and the increased pace tires me even more.

  When we finally do stop, it's beneath a massive tree, the trunk many feet wide, the tapered top of it sporting lush palm-like leaves.

  "We will rest under the baoba," Bashir says, taking a critical scan of my state. "It is perhaps time to have some epis," he urges gently.

  I take a deep breath, fully feeling the exhaustion, the unrelenting heat of this place. He's right. It's time to have some. I sit down and take out the supply I have with me. It isn't as fresh as it could be, but I feel the coolness traveling through me just the same as I chew on it carefully.

  As I recover, I watch Bashir secure the area, ensuring there is no danger nearby.

  It's the strangest thing. I'm likely on the most dangerous planet in the galaxy, but I somehow feel safer than I've ever felt. And I know it's because of Bashir.

  How blind was I before to resist a gift like this?

  Chapter Ten

  Bashir

  My continued connection to Tajss means we arrive at the New Village safely, without having to fight the dangers we could have faced. I am thankful for it, but now we are entering a new kind of danger. Tajss cannot help me with it because we cannot avoid it.

  The New Villagers gather around as we arrive, clearly leery of me. The looks they give Penelope are not much warmer. We stop just outside the village, people coming out to surround us as we do.

  Most of the people are eyeing the cart while Jackson watches us, his face closed off.

  "Why are you here?" he finally asks, crossing his arms as he surveys us.

  "Rosalind sends her regards along with these food rations and supplies," Penelope responds, her hand indicating the cart.

  Murmurs ripple through the crowd. The men and women look from Penelope to me, as if she cannot be trusted because we arrived together. I keep my face impassive though I feel the bitter bite of disappointment. I thought they would at least be more welcoming to her. Perhaps that was naive of
me.

  Jackson's eyes move to the cart. There is a minute change in his expression, but it is there and gone when he turns his attention back to me. There is refusal in his eyes. Will he really turn us away?

  I look at the people who are still hanging back, spectators wondering how this confrontation will unfold. It is clear that they are hungry, that they are in need of the food and supplies we are offering. Will Jackson really be so petty as to turn us away when his people are in need?

  "We should at least hear them out," Tessa, the brunette woman at Jackson's side, says quietly, glancing over at us. She says something else in a low voice, close enough to her leader's ear that I cannot quite make it out. Jackson's face tightens, but he nods.

  "You may come in," he says gruffly. "Temporarily," he adds.

  As if he has something to offer us we do not already have? I do not let the thought show on my face.

  "Thank you," I say instead, echoing Penelope.

  Perhaps it is not the best welcome we could have had, but it is still an invitation to enter. Penelope glances over at me and I nod. This might be more difficult than I first envisioned, but that only means we will have to be more clever in building our case.

  We follow them into the village, knowing we have only been allowed in because of the cart full of supplies we brought with us. Rosalind was wise to send us with the gifts.

  Once inside the square, Jackson barks out orders, and people hurry in to start unloading the cart.

  "Where is Sarah?" Tessa asks as the activity goes on around us, her tone concerned. "How is she doing?"

  "Sarah...she was really hurt. She had to be rushed to the city to save her life."

  Gasps of dismay ripple through the crowd as they hear that news. But that shock is followed by some of those gathered looking thoughtful. I want to nudge those people.

  "They were able to care for her at the medical center there, and now she is doing quite well. We saw her just before we left," I add deliberately.

  It is good that they wonder what else they are missing by not allying with Rosalind. That they wonder what the city can provide for them that the New Village cannot. Pressure from the people themselves is a powerful force.