Dragon Bond Read online

  A couple of men walked toward Talon with swords drawn.

  “I can keep an eye on him,” the bow woman said with a smirk.

  Shaylinor hesitated. “Put him in my tent. He has a map to draw.”

  Her tent. Even though he should be plotting a way to escape, Talon couldn’t help but think that being placed in her private area sounded appealing. If they could be alone together, perhaps he could speak to her instead of merely hovering behind her, coveting her. Maybe it was a foolish hope, but if she spent more time with him, knew more about him, she might come to see him as an ally and distrust him less. Admittedly, he wanted more than an alliance with her, but that seemed a nobler thing to wish for than for her to mate with him. He could see her as someone who could strike a blow against his kind, someone who could force Hul and the others to consider the treaty Talon had spoken of a year earlier. It would mean deaths for his people, and he knew his thoughts were treasonous, but would it not produce a better end for all if humans and dragons could live together on this continent and in this world?

  “Yes, ma’am.” The soldiers came toward Talon uncertainly, warily.

  “Colonel Sandirr, Captains Morston and Alara, come with me,” Shaylinor said, turning her back on Talon. “We have further plans to discuss.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” three men said together.

  “We understand there’s an infiltration to plot,” one added.

  Talon watched Shaylinor head for the largest of the handful of tents in the camp, his gaze lingering until she disappeared inside, and he almost missed the sword coming to rest against his collarbone. The cool, sharp metal made him uneasy, even though he doubted the soldiers would do anything to harm their commander’s prisoner. Not seriously harm him, anyway. He remembered how Scarkoft had taken him, hurting him and humiliating him without leaving a scar. Surely these men would not try something similar. Besides, Scarkoft had possessed much of his dragon power, even in his human body, so he had been impossible to fight off. These were normal humans, even if there were two of them. He ought to have a chance if they attempted to inflict some brutal punishment on him.

  “Don’t try anything,” the soldier warned. “Shaz, get some rope. Tie his hands behind his back.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. Can’t believe he wasn’t tied before.”

  “The general’s got a storm sword and wields it like the sun goddess. What’s she got to worry about from some shape-shifter?”

  “She has to sleep sometime.”

  The soldier with a sword snorted. “I don’t think she sleeps at all.” His reverent tone as he spoke of Shaylinor pleased Talon.

  He stood still as the other one tied his hands behind his back. Neither man was cruel about the task, merely professional. They could have been cruel, justifiably so after all they had lost to his kind, but they were not. That made him feel ashamed of his own kind and guilty for having killed so many humans in the past.

  The men marched him to a small tent and put him inside. A collapsible table full of papers and maps stood to one side. It also held a small, flat leather box and an empty mug and pot. A cot rested opposite the table with a single worn blanket on it. Not exactly a paradise, but after he had spent his entire human life sleeping on the dirt, a cot sounded appealing.

  “Should we tie him to something?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Nah, we’ll just stand guard until the general returns. I hope the officers are talking about how we’re all going on this raid. I can’t wait to finally kill some—” The soldier glanced at Talon, then shut his mouth. He and his comrade took up guard positions by the tent flap.

  Talon stepped toward the cot, thinking of sleeping until Shaylinor returned—it wasn’t as if he could draw maps with his hands tied behind his back. He wondered if the blanket would smell of her. Even if his senses were poor by his usual standards, he had been close enough to her that he now knew her scent, simple and unaltered but appealing.

  One of the soldiers scowled at him. “Don’t touch any of her stuff.”

  It was just as well. What would they have thought if he had buried his nose in her blanket and started sniffing like a dog? He might have grown aroused again, and he did not need them to wonder at the reason for that.

  Several hours passed before Shaylinor returned, and Talon spent most of them lying on the ground at the back of the tent, dozing as he could. He dreamed of being back in the slave pit and being tormented by the overseer. Each time he woke with his heart hammering in his chest, he wished he were on the cot and dreaming of her instead.

  “What happened?” Shaylinor’s voice pulled him from his last set of fitful dreams. The smell of some meat-based dish wafted to his nose, and his stomach growled.

  “Nothing, ma’am. He’s been sleeping. Sort of. Thrashing and moaning a bit. Thought he was having a seizure at first, but they were nightmares, I guess. Who knew dragons had nightmares?”

  “Hope they feel guilty for everything they’re doing to us,” his comrade growled.

  “He could have used the cot,” Shaylinor said, her voice dry and slightly disapproving.

  Talon sat up, his bound wrists making the movement awkward.

  “Didn’t want him touching your belongings, ma’am.”

  “Ah, yes. Dragon fleas. Could be a problem.”

  The men didn’t answer.

  “Never mind. Thank you, Shaz, Miroknot. I’ll take over from here. I see he’s tied and my desk is devoid of maps.”

  “Figured that was safest when you weren’t around, ma’am. Do you want us to stand guard outside?”

  She hesitated. Did she want that? The thought that she felt she needed guards made Talon’s shoulders slump.

  “No,” she said. “He and I have a deal. Get some sleep. We’ll be heading out tomorrow, so I need everyone rested.”

  “For the infiltration?” one man asked brightly.

  “Yes.”

  The soldiers left, talking excitedly.

  Getting to his feet with his wrists bound was even more difficult than sitting up, but Talon managed without embarrassing himself. Shaylinor sat a bowl of soup and some crackers on the table. She looked him over, then drew her knife and walked toward him. He turned his back so she could cut the ropes.

  She patted his arm before getting started. “You’re oddly trusting, Dragon Eyes. Talon.”

  “Oddly?” he asked, a delicious shiver running through him at her touch.

  “If I were in your shoes, I would be expecting a knife in my back.”

  “I am not wearing shoes.”

  She snorted, carefully slicing through his ropes. “It’s a saying. I meant—”

  “I understood,” Talon said. “I trust you.”

  “Why?”

  She sheathed the knife and tugged the ropes away from his wrists. Even if her touch was professional, his body responded to it, enjoying the feel of her warm hands wherever they brushed his skin. His erection returned, as if in untying him so tenderly, she was promising that they would soon be writhing on the cot, legs and arms locked around each other.

  Talon rolled his eyes at himself. Why did his silly human libido insist on being so… libidinous? Who knew if mating with a human would even be enjoyable? Having Scarkoft harass him certainly hadn’t been. He wondered if part of his eagerness to be with Shaylinor had to do with wanting to stamp out those other memories. Was such a thing even possible to do? Or would he be haunted by those memories forever? Even when he returned to dragon form?

  “Talon?” Shaylinor asked, squeezing his arm.

  Recalling the original question, he said, “You are honorable.”

  “I know that,” she said, “but you just met me.”

  He lowered his chin to his chest, wondering what he should say. What could he say to keep her standing close, fondling his arm so delightfully? A lie? The truth? His mind shied away from the latter notion, but didn’t she deserve to know? Besides, maybe he was worried for nothing. Maybe one dragon was the same as another to her. Just b
ecause his kind knew the names of some of the prominent human commanders did not mean she knew the names of any of the dragon commanders.

  “That’s not precisely true,” Talon said slowly.

  “Oh?” she asked, wariness returning to her tone. She lowered her hands and took a step back.

  “We’ve fought before.” He kept his back to her, for once having difficulty with the notion of looking her in the eyes.

  For a moment, she said nothing. Then she asked, “Where?”

  Talon did not know the names the humans gave their cities and military outposts. “Most recently, a canyon outside of the crescent-shaped city on that river delta by the sea. Also in the jungle west of the volcano. And at your water reservoir on the bluff above your biggest city.” He stopped, not certain why he felt compelled to go into so much detail. There had been other times they had crossed paths, but those had been the battles when they had actually traded blows, him with fang and claw, her with that wicked sword. She had left scars on him, scars that were not visible on his human form but that showed as grayish, gnarled flesh on his dragon body where scales would no longer grow. He recalled that he had gouged her once, too, knocking her from the rooftop of a building. She might also have scars that he had left. He swallowed, feeling regret for that, for the years he had loyally but blindly taken orders from Hul.

  “Aristalonis,” she breathed, taking another step back.

  So, humans knew the names of dragons, after all.

  He waited with his chin still down, expecting her to draw her sword, as he knew she must.

  Chapter 7

  Aristalonis.

  Zala stared at her prisoner’s scarred back, too stunned to do much else. It shouldn’t surprise her that he was a known enemy, one who had almost killed her more than once, but for some reason, it did. Maybe because of Salena’s words the night before, her assumption that he was different from the typical dragon. Even though he had spoken of having a command, it had been easy to believe that he wasn’t a killer, at least not a warrior who made a habit of hunting down humans. Maybe she had just wanted to believe that.

  Aristalonis was different from the typical dragon; she would admit that. While the others of his kind might veer off to give chase to civilians fleeing from the carnage of battle, delighting in hunting down their prey, he had always been cold and calculating in his attacks, destroying their food supplies, their water towers, their ships and wagon trains, what they needed to survive and fight back. When he had disappeared from the skies a year earlier, her people had been bolstered, believing one of them had killed him. But they hadn’t. For some reason, his own kind had shackled him in that mine.

  “Why were you imprisoned?” she asked.

  “I do not think you would believe me if I told the truth.”

  “Try anyway.” Zala’s words came out harsher than she intended, but that was what she resorted to when the world unbalanced her. The no-nonsense tone of command.

  He finally shifted, turning toward her.

  She braced herself to feel his eyes upon her. His violet eyes. Gods, why hadn’t she recognized them? She had seen them before, flashing with that eerie inner light as he plummeted from the sky, claws aiming for her throat.

  She stepped back, startled, her hand twitching toward her sword. It wasn’t because of his eyes, but because of his erect cock. What the hells? She gaped at it as if it were a python poised to strike.

  “I apologize,” he said, grimacing. “Human sex organs seem overly libidinous.”

  “This conversation can’t be getting you excited.”

  “Less the conversation and more the touching that came before it.”

  “All I did was untie your ropes.” Her words were tumbling out too quickly, and she groped for that command calm. Why was it eluding her when she needed it most?

  “Yes. I liked it.”

  She stared at him, flustered. Not because she had a known enemy standing before her, but because his damned penis was staring at her. She was General Shaylinor. These things didn’t happen to her. Maybe they happened to her pretty young lieutenant, but they didn’t happen to her when she was interrogating prisoners. Not that this was much of an interrogation. She didn’t know what it was. Hells, wasn’t he supposed to be drawing a map?

  Talon shrugged apologetically.

  “Here.” She grabbed a stack of clothes she had brought, a burly corporal’s spare uniform, and tossed it to him. She had brought stew as well. Still feeling flustered, she waved her hand at the table. “Eat. And tell me why you were chained up.”

  He put the clothes on slowly. At first, she thought he was stalling, but then she realized he had never dressed before. The buttons puzzled him, and he glanced at her uniform jacket for an example.

  She smacked her hand to her forehead. This was the race that was annihilating her people?

  He got the trousers on, but gave up on the button-down jacket. Leaving it open, his bare chest and lean abdomen visible, he sat in the chair she had indicated at the table. She was almost tempted to fix his buttons so she wouldn’t have to stare at his chest all night. Gods, she had been enjoying removing his ropes too. Not as much as he had, apparently, but she had wanted to reach out and run her hand down his back. She’d even been pitying him over those scars. Now... now... she didn’t even know what now. Everything had changed and yet nothing had changed.

  He held the spoon awkwardly, but soon got the hang of it and downed the stew so quickly she suspected she should have brought more. It was as much vegetable as it was meat, and she’d never heard of a dragon eating vegetables, but who knew what the rules were when they shifted shapes?

  “I did not agree with my leader,” Talon said, setting down the spoon and meeting her eyes for the first time since he’d given her the clues to identify him. “Hulaskalis. He was supreme commander then. The last time I was in his presence, he had declared himself a king.”

  She nodded once, having heard the same thing from their intelligence gatherers.

  “I was tired of war, of killing your people. I’d come to realize... I know this will be infuriating for you, but we didn’t realize at first that your kind were sentient, not in the way we are. When we first arrived, we thought of you as sheep or antelope, though less appealing to eat.”

  Zala felt her mouth drop open, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. It didn’t surprise her that dragons thought of humans that way, but his bluntness was alarming.

  “Some of us realized you were more than that,” he went on, “but others continued to think of you as... less. Because you don’t have magic of your own, and because you’re small and easily—ah. Regardless, we needed a new home, and yours wasn’t defended by any species that could rival us, not in raw strength or magical ability. In our world, those with greater power have always been the ones to dominate, to take what they want. And so we did. When we had taken this continent, for the most part, I thought that was enough. It has plenty of room for the numbers we have. Hul did not agree. He wants this entire world. I didn’t have the stomach for the war anymore. I hadn’t for a while, but... I was always a soldier, you see. Following orders is what I’ve done for a hundred years and more.”

  “A hundred years?” Her mouth was still hanging open. She snapped it shut. She hadn’t known dragons were so long-lived, and it was strange to think of Talon as that old when he was walking around in the body of a man who appeared to be in his twenties.

  “Roughly,” he said. “Days and seasons seem to be shorter here than in our world.”

  She stared at the table in front of him, not certain what to say.

  “As to why I trust you and believe you’re honorable...” Talon spread his palm. “In addition to the battles we personally have fought, commanders have reputations that even enemies learn, as I’m certain you know. And even here, I see how your soldiers regard you. You’re no backstabber.”

  “No. But I am determined to help my people.” She made herself step closer to him, close enough to gr
ab a few pieces of blank paper and an inkwell on the table. She pushed the items toward him. “If you’ll draw that map, we can finish this business, and get you freed so that you can go back to being you.” She wished she had thought to draw another promise from him back in the pit, a promise that he wouldn’t kill any more humans once he returned to his usual self. Why hadn’t she thought to ask that? Having Aristalonis out of commission would be more important than learning a few military details.

  Talon pushed the stool back and stood, shifting to face her.

  She stepped back, watching him warily, though she did not think he would attack her. For him, nothing had changed. He seemed committed to the deal, to honoring his word. And oddly, she trusted him now more than she had before. As he’d said, commanders had reputations, even among their enemies. Yes, he was cold and calculating, but he wasn’t one of the ones that captured and tortured humans or seemed to enjoy chasing them down for fun.

  “Let me show you in person,” he said. “I’m better than a map.”

  She looked up into his eyes, mostly because staring at his chest wasn’t a good idea, not with the jacket hanging open. “I’m sure you are, but our intent is to kill your king.” And any other dragons they encountered on the way, she added silently.

  “I know that,” Talon said.

  “You don’t have a problem with that?”

  “I have wrestled with whether I do or not, to be honest. A year ago, I never would have considered betraying my kind, but I think they need to suffer a great defeat before they will consider agreeing to peace with humans. Would not an end to this war be of benefit to all? And Hul… there’s no chance that I would ever serve Hul again. After all, Scarkoft was his chosen servant. For all I know, Hul may have ordered Scarkoft to...” His jaw closed tightly, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Perhaps, if Hul were killed, another less bloodthirsty dragon would step forward.”

  “Such as you?” Zala wondered if he might have that very idea in mind, to turn her deal to his favor, to see his king killed and a spot open up for a new leader. He must have been high up in the dragon command structure after all of the victories he had led against her people.