Dragon Moon Read online

  “That bitch? I wouldn’t dare.” Tindall laughs.

  I reach Claudia on her cellphone, tell her of Rita’s conversation with me and Tindall. “You know how to get hold of your father’s people. I want this all checked out,” I say.

  “It will take a little time,” she says. “I have to go to shore. The man I need to talk to won’t discuss anything over the phone.”

  “Whatever it takes. Just get me the truth.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Claudia?”

  “Yes?”

  “If Tindall’s lying to me, I’m going to need you to handle it. Is that a problem for you?”

  “Me?” She laughs. “After all that Pops has told me about him, it would be a pure pleasure.”

  15

  Despite Henri’s pleas to go outside and practice flying, I spend the evening inside. I don’t tell the boy that I don’t dare venture into the evening sky. Chloe’s scent can only grow stronger as her oestrus continues. I fear the effect it will have on me. I don’t want to risk being drawn to her before the deadline she’s given me.

  To my surprise, sleep takes me as soon as I lie down and, even though dreams and nightmares roil my night, I wake rested, almost cheerful in the morning. Still, I refuse to open the windows, refuse to go outside all day.

  Henri stays by my side until I reassure him my odd behavior has nothing to do with anything he’s done. After that, he spends the rest of the day tagging along with Granny, helping with chores he always avoided at home.

  After dark, I accompany him to his room, sit on his bed. “I saw Chloe the other night,” I say.

  He stares into my face. “Are you married now?” he says.

  I smile, say, “No. If we do decide to get married, you’ll be there. But I am going to see her again tonight after you go to sleep. By tomorrow, we’ll know whether she’s going to come live with us or not.”

  “You like her, don’t you, Papa?”

  I nod.

  “Then I hope she marries you.”

  Chloe’s scent surrounds me as soon as I walk out the veranda door. The aroma of cinnamon and musk fills my lungs, the scent’s chemicals flood my veins. My body begins to change before I even think to, my shoulders widening, bursting through my shirt, my pants splitting, falling off me as my haunches thicken and my tail grows.

  I take deep breaths, revel as my skin thickens to scales, as my wings break clear. Spreading them, flexing my claws, working my jaw so my newly lengthened fangs settle into place, I can’t imagine why I ever in my life wanted to be such a puny thing as a human. Looking up toward the still full moon, I admire the way the silver disk dominates the sky, bathes the earth with its dull shine, wish it were ringed with a halo again this night.

  Springing into the air, I circle once over Bartlet House, smelling the air, following Chloe’s scent where it’s the strongest. Every nerve I have is energized, every muscle taut. I fly over the dark landscape, the scattered lights, climb high once I pass into Cockpit Country, then dive and skim the treetops and zoom high again, roaring into the moonlit night.

  I know that Chloe may refuse me but I can’t imagine what would follow. Her scent has me, pulls me toward her, dulls any thoughts of rejection that arise. Flight has never felt so good. Every molecule of air that passes over my skin seems to rub me ever so lightly, tease me further into frenzy. The faster I go, the harder the air presses against me and I strain to speed to the valley, to the cave Chloe has chosen.

  Scanning the sky for any sign of her, I growl at its emptiness. I’d met Elizabeth in the air the first time and had hoped I’d meet Chloe that way too. But no matter what altitude I climb to, which valley I fly over, I see no sign of her.

  Landing at the cave’s mouth, I enter it to find the bed completed, the air flooded with Chloe’s scent — with the female nowhere in sight. Weary from my flight, panting from exhaustion and lust, I walk back to the cave’s opening, examine the sky as I rest.

  Could she be so cruel as to leave me panting in the dark waiting for her answer? Growling, I shake my head, twitch my tail. Chloe couldn’t do that to me. Still, as time passes, my fears grow.

  She surprises me by diving from above me, dropping toward the valley floor — asilver streak of movement that rockets across the valley and races back toward the cave. “Back off, leave me room,” she mindspeaks moments before she arrives.

  Scrambling away from the cave’s mouth, I leave enough space for her to shoot past me. She lands only feet from the bed, facing the cave’s rear.

  Her scent threatens to drown me but I resist its call. “I was worried you might not come,” I say.

  “Good,” she says, her back still to me. “I wasn’t sure I would. I’m still angry with you.”

  Her trembling body, her heaving sides, her swollen sex belie her words. But as much as my need for her vibrates within me, I refuse to step forward and risk her rejection again. “Then you want me to leave,” I say.

  “Would you?”

  “It would be the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I would if you told me this was hopeless. Is it?”

  “No ... at least I don’t know yet. I want you to be someone else. I want that you never married my sister, that she never died. I’m furious that you’ve eliminated any chance of any other male challenging you for me. I’m angry that my sister knew you first. I hate that I’ve been thinking about you almost every minute since we met. I almost came to this cave six times in the past three hours but I still needed to think.”

  “Chloe, you need to decide.”

  She turns toward me, lashes her tail from one side to the other as she mindspeaks. “I don’t need to do anything, Peter. You need to somehow make this good for me.”

  I look into her emerald-green eyes, admire the sharpness of her snout, her features a little finer than her sister’s. A shudder of desire goes through me and I sigh. “What more can I say?”

  Chloe glares at me. “I think I could be strong enough to resist you, Peter. I really do.” She breathes deeply. “You have to give me a reason not to.”

  My body aches from need. I’m tired of all this talking. If I’m to be sent away I want it to be soon. “You want a reason?” I growl, slam my tail down on the floor of the cave, stand on my hind legs so I tower over her. “Would you rather I just took you like I was one of the others of the Blood? Do you think you could really stop me? All that holds me back is that I want something more. And that’s what I have to offer you.”

  “And just what is that?”

  “The chance for a real relationship, not the mindless rutting and instinctual coupling of two beasts. I’m worth more than that, Chloe. So are you. We both deserve love.”

  “Do you really think that’s possible? That we can love each other?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s why I came here. That’s why I waited for you.” I pause, her scent almost suffocating me, my body so much in need that it’s almost in pain. “Now decide what you want, Chloe. If you want to just be mated like your parents were, tell me and I’ll go. If I stay much longer, I can’t guarantee what I’ll do.”

  Chloe shakes her head. “How can you promise that what we have will be any better than my parents’ marriage?”

  “I can’t. I can only swear that I’ll do my best to make it better. If you do the same, I think we’ll be able to do it. Now please, Chloe, either come to me or let me go.”

  She studies me, says nothing for a few minutes. Finally, Chloe takes a breath, tilts her head a little. “No, I don’t want you to go. But” — she backs up a few steps — “you come to me.”

  I step toward her, stop just before our bodies touch. Chloe rubs her jowl against mine. I accept her touch, wait for her next move. “Elizabeth told me you and she made love in the air the first time you met. Did you?”

  “Yes.”

  She backs away and for a moment I’m afraid again that I’ve lost her. But she lies on her back on the bed of branches, her sweet cream-colored underbody showing, her swollen sex c
ompletely exposed. “Then I think we should make love here,” she says.

  Standing still, I stare at her, take in her beauty.

  “Come on, Peter,” she says. “You’re not the only one of us in need here.”

  I rush forward, Chloe’s scent clouding around me, fogging my mind. There’s no need for any further conversation. As frenzied as Chloe and I both are, there’s no need for foreplay. I ram myself into her, Chloe shuddering once, yowling as I growl at the warm, tight pleasure of her reception.

  She seizes me with her foreclaws, digs her talons into my sides, penetrating my scales, drawing blood as she erupts beneath me, her tail thrashing, her jaws clamped on my throat, the sharp tips of her fangs piercing me. The aroma of my blood blends with the smells of cinnamon and musk, pain mixes with pleasure.

  Shocked by her wildness, I bellow, attempt to pull back. I’d expected her to be gentler than her sister, not more forceful. But I can’t break her hold. I put my full weight on her, attempt to pin her into submission, but she digs her claws and teeth even more into me as she bucks and heaves against me, her scent growing thicker until I’m powerless to do anything but move in response to her.

  Chloe orgasms first, yowling into the night, pulling me even closer to her, her sex spasming, clamping hard around me. I follow only seconds later, my mind devoid of any thoughts, preoccupied only by the sensations that overwhelm me.

  Afterwards, neither of us moves. Chloe still holds me with her claws, still clamps her jaws on my throat. A gust of night wind penetrates the cave deep enough to cool us, carry off some of the scents that envelop us. I sigh, breathe the fresh air and then become more aware of the pain of Chloe’s embrace. Groaning, I pull back my head, flexing my shoulders so she’ll release me.

  This time she relents and I roll to her side, sigh again, rubbing her tail with mine. Chloe half purrs, half growls, her eyes closed, one claw gently tracing the welts and gashes she’s inflicted on me. “I did that?” She chuckles, presses closer to me. “Poor you.”

  “It’s nothing I can’t heal,” I say.

  “I know. I just didn’t expect to behave like that. Not that I’m sorry, mind you.”

  As satiated as I am, I find I’m not sorry either. “But,” I say as I will my wounds to close, my skin to heal, “it might be better if you don’t break the surface the next time.”

  She nestles against me, gives a little shrug. “No promises here, Peter. I’ve never done this before. How can I know how I’ll behave the next time? You’re just going to have to take your chances.”

  We fall asleep, side by side, drowse until our stomachs start to rumble with hunger. Chloe sits up first, leans against me, “Are you awake, Peter?”

  When I don’t answer right away, she slaps my tail with hers. “Are you going to be like my pa and brothers — always sleeping, expecting a female to hunt for you any time you don’t feel like it?”

  The slap barely stings. I open one eye and fake growl, mindspeaking, “I wasn’t expecting to be slapped awake by my bride.”

  “Good.” Chloe laughs and slaps my tail with hers again, a little harder. “I don’t want you to think I’m dull and predictable.”

  “How about just annoying?” I mindspeak, playing along with her teasing, sitting up on one haunch, pinning her tail down with mine before she can slap me again.

  “No fair! You’re bigger!” Chloe shoves against me, tries to free herself. No matter how she moves, I manage to keep her pinned, both of us laughing as we struggle. “Okay, you asked for it,” she says and gives off a fresh burst of scent.

  Cinnamon and musk envelop me. I gasp at my body’s immediate reaction and turn toward my bride, releasing her as I do so. But, laughing, she rolls away from me. “Mum said there are always ways to beat a male.”

  Her laugh is deeper than Elizabeth’s, full of delight. Even in my state of rut, it makes me smile. “Now who’s being unfair!” I say and she laughs even more.

  I want to approach her, to quiet her laughs with my touch, but I can’t help but think about my son at home by himself. The boy’s never woken to find me gone. Rising, turning from my bride, I say, “I need to be home before sunrise. Henri will be worried if I’m not there.”

  Chloe stops laughing, says, “Don’t you want to stay in the cave with me?”

  “Of course, I do, but I have to be concerned for Henri too. We can hunt together. After we feed, you can come back to my house, stay there with me, meet your nephew.”

  I follow Chloe, let her do the hunting as tradition dictates, but insist only that we take no children. “I don’t like hunting them either,” she says. “It always makes me feel sad when one of the others bring home young ones. Pa says they taste sweeter, but I don’t care.”

  We find a shepherd sleeping by his flock on the outskirts of Maroonetown, an older man, gray haired and a little too thin. Chloe lands and kills him before he awakes. We feed alongside each other, Chloe searching for the best parts, pushing them toward me.

  After eating, our desire returns and we make love on the ground under the open sky, the shepherd’s remains just feet away, his sheep restive and milling near us. This time, Chloe’s more subdued, almost gentle at times.

  The sun is a thin edge of light between the night sky and the horizon when we finally land alongside the pool deck behind Bartlet House. I shift to my human shape as soon as I touch ground. “We need to go inside before any of my employees arrive,” I say.

  Chloe remains in her natural form. “Not bad,” she says, examining me.

  “You’ve seen me like this before.”

  She laughs. “That was five years ago and only for a little while. I was young then. I didn’t know what to look for.”

  I frown at her. “Please, Chloe, change so we can go inside. I don’t want anyone seeing us like this.”

  “Turn around then.”

  “Why? I’ve seen your human shape before.”

  “Before I was grown. Turn around, Peter. You’ll see me soon enough.”

  Turning my back on her, I wait for her permission to view her. But, instead, after she changes, she presses her two hands against my back, pushes gently. “Take me inside, Peter, you can see me when we get to your room.”

  I smile at the sweet sound of her voice. It’s deeper than I’d expected — her accent, like her family’s, more upper-class British than Jamaican. I toy with the thought of twirling around, viewing her by surprise, but I’m still wary of upsetting her.

  She drops her hands down, grabs my buttocks, giggling as we go up the stairs to the veranda.

  “Chloe!” I mock complain.

  The tile floor is cold under my feet. Chloe’s hands grab and touch at my back on the way to my room, both of us laughing, until, afraid we’ll wake Henri, I say, “Please shush.”

  Chloe muffles her giggles, presses her full body against my back once we’re in my room, her nipples hard against my back, her pubic hair brushing my buttocks.

  Once again I have no choice but to grow hard. “Can I turn now?” I say.

  “Just a moment.” Chloe backs away from me and I regret the momentary loss of her touch.

  “You can turn.”

  I do and suck in my breath at the sight of her. She’s far darker than Elizabeth, almost a deep milk-chocolate color, but otherwise she could be my dead wife’s twin, her body a little fuller, her nose and jaw finer, her lips thick where Elizabeth’s had been thin, her hair longer, dark curls spiraling down to her wide shoulders. But her emerald-green eyes sparkle in a way Elizabeth’s never did and, unlike my departed wife, her voice turns husky when she invites me to bed.

  We lie together over the covers, stroking and caressing each other, kissing for the first time, Chloe’s lips soft against mine. Our lovemaking is almost an afterthought to the rest of our activities, our orgasms muted, leading almost immediately to sleep. My new mate surrenders to slumber first, her face close to mine, her lips slightly parted, her breath warm and sweet against my face. I sigh and surrender too,
safe, I think, to finally accept that my quest is over, my mate found.

  16

  The rap of a small hand against my bedroom door wakes me. I stretch, groan at the soreness in my muscles, look toward Chloe and find her sitting up cross-legged in bed watching me. Henri knocks again, says, “Papa?”

  “What?” I turn toward the night table, glance at the clock, ten-fifteen in the morning.

  “Can I come in?” The knob starts to turn.

  Chloe giggles, scoots under the covers.

  This is not how I want my son to meet my future wife. “No,” I say. “Henri, go downstairs. Find something to do. I’ll be down in a half hour or so.”

  “But I’m bored. Granny says he’s too busy to watch me dive.”

  “So do something else.”

  The boy clomps his feet as he walks away. “He sounds cute,” Chloe says.

  “He is cute.” I get out of bed, pull the covers off her. “Come on. If you get up now we can shower together. Then, after we get dressed, I’ll introduce you to my son.”

  Chloe stands, looks around the room, furrowing her brow as she does so. Then she puts her hands on her hips, looks at me and laughs.

  “What?” I say.

  “Okay,” she says. “Just what were you expecting me to dress in?”

  My mate’s small enough that one of my larger knit shirts can act as a short dress, covering her to midthigh. Still, barefoot, my yellow pique knit shirt cinched at her waist with a red tie, Chloe looks like a little girl dressed in her daddy’s shirt — one who’s obviously naked under the cotton material. Velda glares at me, as if I’ve taken advantage of Chloe, when we come down the stairs together.

  Chloe holds my arm and toys with her hair with her other hand as she explains. “It’s Peter’s fault really. If he hadn’t pushed me in the pool last night and absolutely ruined my new silk dress, I’d never have to wear such a silly thing. He’s going to buy me a completely new outfit today to make up for it. Aren’t you, Peter?”

  I nod.

  Henri just stares at her. Finally he mindspeaks to me, his thoughts masked. {She looks like the picture of Momma.}