The Dragon

Hello again everyone! I have to apologize for the long wait for this chapter, but unfortunately, I am a starving college student and I am ruled by my class schedule. :( To my whopping nineteen reviewers, I am most flattered by your compliments. We aim to please! So, anyhow, without much further ado, what you've all been waiting for. Cheers and happy reading.


Part Three


It had been a week.


At least a week.


Darque couldn’t tell how much time passed in the dark recesses of the cave, but her body told her that it had been some such amount of time since she had been captured. The villagers would think that she had long since been devoured and, in honesty, Darque wasn’t so sure she was glad she hadn’t been.


The dragon was a hard taskmaster.


Silas, she had learned, was his name; and it was the only name that she had learned, in such a short amount of time, to hate with such a passion.


Her work began at dawn-or at least her idea of dawn. Denied clothing of any kind though chests and chests of the finest garments lay strewn around like common, she slept on the stone floor; if she was lucky, she could sidle close to the glowing orb Silas seemed to fond of and garner a definite warmth. The cave was almost always somewhat warm-she supposed it was the presence of the dragon himself-but she was used to sleeping with a blanket and sheets-and nightclothes. The uncomfortable stone bruised her neck and allowed her no comfortable position in which to take the little sleep she was allowed.


Silas always awoke her with a sharp smack to her hindquarters- making her yelp and come upright blearily. Then her chores began: To draw water for his countless baths from a spring a ways down the main channel of the cave-he was incessantly vain for a dragon, bathing at least three times a day (he had allowed her no such luxury since she had arrived); to clean up after him-his messes were immense, and more often than not, made of raw meat he returned with and mangled. She had to make sure that not a speck of blood remained on the smooth stone of the living chamber; indeed, it seemed she cleaned everything but herself. Another task she was charged with was watching the object that seemed to so fascinate him-if it moved, she was to tell him right away-though why a glowing stone would move, she hadn’t the faintest notion. Lastly, and most heinously, in her eyes, she was charged with cleaning up the droppings of his horrid wolf-companion. Danthor was crude-often commenting on various aspects of her nudity when he dropped in unannounced and more often than not trying to wheedle Silas into letting them have a moment alone.


Darque feared displeasing the dragon most of all for this reason; she was sure that if he gave her to Danthor, she would not survive what he would do to her. So, she did what she was told without complaint-even though she often ached, she was filthy, and she had to scrounge in the store piles of food while Silas was away-he allowed her no time to eat when he was present.


It was a miserably existence.


Made even more horrible by the fact that the little voice that had taken over when Silas had first coupled with her had developed its own sentience and was now dying for a repeat performance. Darque herself tried to be thankful that he hadn’t touched her that day; but she couldn’t help but remember the way he had felt inside her and how, in those moments, she had lost all control of her body and mind.


To feel that abandon again…


You could ask him….The nasty voice chimed up. Darque proceeded to mentally beat it into submission as she scrubbed the floor for the umpteenth time that day. Ask him indeed. She’d rather die than ask to have that loathsome creature touch her again.


You liked it…you want it again…


“Shut up.” She muttered under her breath. “I did not.”


But she had. Horribly enough, she had. And at the thought, she bit her lip, pausing in her cleaning as she remembered the sensation of Silas’ jaws clamped on her shoulder as he fucked her with animalistic fervor. Touching the bruised, healing flesh on her shoulder, she moaned softly as her body heated. It had felt so good…


Her hand stole down her belly, between her legs, and she touched herself lightly, gasping at the reaction her body had to the simple slide of her fingers. She hadn’t thought to do this before-mostly because Silas always watched-and Danthor was always close behind. But…she looked around warily…neither seemed currently present. She knew better than to take the opportunity to escape-if she didn’t run into the wolf-being on her way out, he guarded the entrance-she had overheard Silas telling him to watch carefully. Hopefully, that was where he remained currently.


Darque rubbed her fingers over the pink folds between her legs again, gasping softly as they moistened under her fingertips. She sat back on her knees, spreading her legs and sliding the digits back further-to the place where Silas had entered her. It throbbed there-ached to be filled. She obliged with one finger, moaning lowly as it slid in. She raised her free hand to a breast, cupping the warm weight instinctually before squeezing it, moving her finger about within herself. It felt all well and good-but she needed more. Dilligently, she added another finger, then another, whimpering slightly as she began to pump them in and out of herself, still fondling her breasts. Her hips bucked against her as she pressed them as deep as she could, imagining that it was Silas thrusting into her as he had before. She closed her eyes, her lips parting as she inhaled sharply, her hair cascading down her back as her body trembled. It felt magnificent.


All at once, her thumb brushed a small little bead of flesh above her entrance and she jerked, crying out at the lance of pleasure that shot through her. She stopped, startled, hoping that no one had been alerted by her inadvertent sound. When no one came after a moment, she resumed her actions, this time thrusting three fingers in and out of her slick passage as her thumb rubbed the plump little bundle of nerves above it. She almost screamed, it felt so good- and something was building within her-taking her higher and higher-if she could only reach the summit-


“And what is our little human up to today?”


Shrieking, Darque lost her balance, falling onto her behind as she whirled at the gruff voice behind her. To her terror and dismay, Danthor stood there, his eyes oddly bright and intense upon her. She said nothing, only trembled, watching him inhale the air deeply before dropping to all fours and advancing upon her. Her breath quickened as he sniffed one of her feet, then trailed his cold, wet nose up her leg, making her shiver. It was disturbing how humanoid his body was-and how animalistic his tendencies.


Her face flamed as he continued up her leg to the very source of all the trouble, sniffing her glistening womanhood indulgently. Darque may have hated Silas, but in this moment, she prayed he would return.


Without ceremony, Danthor growled, grabbing her thighs with two hairy hands and dragging her beneath him as she prayed for the strength to endure his attentions. He chuckled at her fear-it sounded like steel grating. “I will make you scream, little human.”


His hands went to his pants-and Darque did feel like screaming-in terror.


At that precise, lovely moment, there was a tremendous roar from beyond the cave that shook the stone foundations. Danthor straightened immediately, his canine ears perking, before he cast her a last, hungry glance and loped off rapidly, like the animal he was, leaving the young woman stunned on the ground.


What happened?


She’d thought for certain that Danthor meant to dismember her-perhaps Silas had somehow known?


The roar came again, piercing in its intensity and she covered her ears ad chips of rock fell from the ceiling. If that truly was Silas, he sounded infuriated indeed-infuriated…or in very great pain.


By the sound of the approaching mass, she would soon find out. She rose to her feet, forgetting her earlier predicament. What could have possibly harmed a dragon?


A last roar ensued, louder than the others, and the cavern seemed to rock off the very edge of the earth as the huge form of Silas’ dragon form suddenly filled the cavern. Darque inhaled sharply.


She hadn’t seen Silas this way since when he first captured her, and he was still as breathtaking as he had been then-scales glinting in the low glow of the cave, all encompassing warmth emanating in waves-but his normally fierce crimson eyes were distorted with agony.


It didn’t take long to figure out why.


Silas’ left wing was in tatters, streaked with an inky black substance that she supposed was dragon’s blood. It looked as if something had tried to eat the appendage, ironically enough. Flesh was shredded, bone broken in numerous places, and the way the creature clambered across the room, knocking things askew and screeching in pain, she knew he must be nearly mad from agony and blood loss. Danthor tread carefully behind him, ducking and leaping dexterously out of the way when Silas turned in a fury, lashing out blindly.


The young woman watched-and though she hated Silas with every fiber of her being, she felt for him. He was very obviously suffering. Whether the wound was serious enough to kill him or not, she didn’t know.


All at once, she froze. Silas and Danthor were both here, so who was guarding the cave entrance?


No one, that was who.


This confusion had provided her with a very convenient opportunity to escape! Rejoicing inside, the young woman turned, ready to race for the exit-when Silas let out another piercing shriek of agony. Darque winced, pausing. That one had sounded almost human.


Perhaps now wasn’t the best time to leave…


She shook her head in disbelief at her own stupidity. Now was the only time to leave! It was now or never!


But…Silas had collapsed in front of the glowing orb in the corner that she so devotedly tended to in his absence. His good limb reached up to cover the object with a whole wing and his entire body shuddered as Danthor watched from a distance away.


My…child…


Every hair on Darque’s body stood on end.


His child?


The monster had offspring?


It hit her at once. How could she have been so stupid? The glowing orb in the room looked exactly like an egg and the heat it gave off was apparently characteristic of a dragon. Silas had offspring!


Her heart dropped into her stomach. What if his injury killed him? His child would be left without a father-and no mother to be seen.


She may dislike the dragon, but no babe deserved to have its parents taken from it. Without a second thought, the young woman turned, running back to Danthor. She hesitated only a moment before tugging at a patch of hair low on his arm-it was all she could reach. He rounded on her with a snarl. “What do you want, human? The master is injured!”


It took courage to speak when he glared at her with those animal eyes. “I…I think I can help.” She managed to stutter. “If I might be allowed outside-”


Danthor barked a harsh laugh. “I’m not stupid, girl. I know what you want.”


“No!” She replied with such vehemence that the wolf actually jerked in surprise. “I may be a human but I still recognize the importance of a parent for a child.” Her gaze slid toward the egg, then back to Danthor pleadingly.


He assessed her for a moment in which Silas gave another piteous whine before cleaning an ear with his finger. “Fine, Harpy.” He jerked his thumb east. “The way out is about half a mile in that direction.” Baring his fangs unnecessarily, he fixed her with a dangerous gaze. “If you don’t return within the hour, I will hunt you down and Silas will have no say in your fate.”


The words made her shiver, but she merely nodded, turning from the writhing dragon to run from the chamber, heedless of her nakedness. The young woman quickly made her way in the way that Danthor had directed her, fear giving her strength. She hadn’t been the official healer in her village, but she had a good knowledge of ailments and the herbs that alleviated them. Not that she was certain that worked on humans would work on dragons as well, but she could only try.


Even after just 100 feet, Darque felt the cave begin to angle upward into a fairly steep climb, and once this was conquered, one could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Her heart leapt. Even if the circumstances were dire, it would be wonderful to be in the sunshine again.


After numerous moments that seemed like hours, the young woman came to the mouth of her prison-and was nearly blinded by the intensity of the sunlight. She squawked in surprise, covering her eyes with an arm as she squinted, re-adjusting slowly.


The day was just as breath-taking and sunny as any she could remember. The dragon’s cave empties out into a forest clearing surrounded by trees with height immeasurable. Neither the shape of the leaves of the patterns of bark were familiar to her, leading her to believe she had traveled very far from her home indeed. The grass was soft and knee high, but nearby, she could see where trees had been snapped like twigs and the grasses trampled from where Silas had obviously made a crash landing. A look back at the cave mouth revealed that it was, in fact, a small hole in the side of an immense mountain, the top of which she couldn’t see through the clouds.


She knew she had to hurry, but she couldn’t help but take a moment to let the sun caress her bare skin and feel the grass beneath her feet. It felt like forever since she’d been outside.


The she was off into the woods, choosing her steps carefully. This country was unfamiliar to her, so she had no idea whether or not what she needed would grow among the plants. Still, she had an idea that coming back with something she thought might help would be exponentially better than coming back empty handed. The young woman flitted from tree to tree searching for a moss she knew sped healing and deadened pain. To her delight, she found some after looking for only moments and harvested it easily with her fingernails. Her next assignment was a tea-leaf that induced sleepiness to help the patient get through the time of healing. It took more work, but she found the spindly, purple leaves under a rotting log, wincing at the plucked slugs from them. The last item she was looking for, however, she did not find.


Her heart sank. Yutra leaves helped stave off infection-and none grew here. She searched for what seemed like an eternity, but found none. After splitting hairs over the alternative, she found a tree that looked remarkably like the one for which she was searching-the bark was patterned differently, but the leaves were the same size, color, and grouping. She prayed they were cousins and stole some leaves, racing back for the mouth of the cave.


She hoped she hadn’t been too long.


As Darque raced back into the darkness, she realized a fatal error in her plan to help Silas: the amounts of herbs she had harvested were for a man-not a dragon. She didn’t think there was enough Yutra in all the land to service a dragon.


She could only hope that, perhaps, Silas could change back into his man-form, and she could treat him that way.


She was hardly half way down the ridge when she ran into Danthor-quite literally. The force knocked her backwards, spilling her supplies from her arms. The wolf growled. “I thought you had flown. Damnably slow humans…”


“How is he?” She asked frantically, scrabbling to re-gather what she’d dropped.


The canine shook his great head, ears flattened. “Not good. He has stopped thrashing.”


Darque went cold. “I must get to him immediately.”


Without a word, Danthor scooped her up in his immense arms and began down the tunnel so fast that her hair whipped past her and she couldn’t see his individual feet. There was an advantage, she supposed, to being mostly animal. Where it had taken her half an hour to get out of the cave, it took him mere seconds to reach the cavern again, and take her to Silas’s side.


The dragon’s huge bulk was spread out in the center of the room, treasure and items askew where he’d gone wild. His chest imperceptibly rose and fell, and his eyes were closed. Darque eyed his mangled wound and sucked in a breath. There was no earthly way she could treat such an immense wound. It was many times the size of the hut she had lived most of her life in.


The dark-haired girl cast a glance at the glowing egg in the corner and set her jaw. She would do as best she could. Purposefully not looking at Danthor, she marched up to Silas prone form and, after taking a moment to find a foothold, climbed onto his massive belly. His scales were almost hot to the touch, yet she crawled the dozen yards to his shoulder before standing precariously and stoking his snout lightly. It hurt her to see such a magnificent creature in pain, even with all he had done to her.


“Silas…” She whispered lowly, hoping she was somewhere near his ear. “Silas, I know you are hurting, but I need you to change to your man form, if you can. That way I can help you.”


No response.


The dull thudding of his heart beneath her feet was growing perceptibly weaker, the tendrils of smoke curling from his nostrils thinning. She hadn’t much time. “Silas!” She pleaded. “Think of your child and fight to live! I can’t help you like this. Please, change!”


For a moment, everything was still, then the form beneath her quaked.


Move away from me… Rumbled through her head and she went quickly to comply, sliding down the side of his slick belly and onto the floor. The dragon’s body shuddered once more, then began to shrink. A groan, half human, half something else entirely filled the chamber and Darque watched in awe as the creature before her grew smaller, his wing joints moving backwards and the joints of a human arm growing into place, torso shrinking and legs lengthening. His snout drew into his face and his human-esque features emerged. The damage to his left-hemisphere, however, remained severe. A clearly distorted arm, broken in several places, the flesh torn and bleeding; a smaller sized wing still in tatters. If she could save both, he’d be lucky. As soon as he’d finished, she went to him, kneeling beside his prone form.


“Danthor, please, water. Quickly.” She looked at the wolf-creature pleadingly, and he didn’t question her, only bolted from the room towards the underground spring.


Darque lifted the head of her charge onto her lap, adjusting his noninjured wing accordingly; he had lost much of his dark colored dragon blood-that, and infection, it looked like, would quickly kill him if she did nothing.


Quickly, she stuffed some of the bitter-tasting moss into her mouth and chewed it into a paste before spitting it out and spreading it onto the wounds. Silas jerked and moaned, then fell still once more. Darque continued until she had used it all and the dragon’s entire arm and half of his wing were covered in green gunk, whereupon Danthor returned with the water. He said nothing, merely setting it within her reach and watching her intently. Darque dipped her hand into the liquid-as always it was warm. “Do you have a cup?” She asked of Danthor; he merely snorted and rummaged among the things strewn on the ground before returning with a tattered tankard. Darque filled it half with water, then stirred in some of the Yutra leaves, waiting half a moment before tilting Silas’ head back and draining the mixture down his throat. He swallowed half, choking on the other.


Sighing, the young woman made some more.


Under Danthor’s watchful eye, she could only hope it would be enough.


So, part three of the saga is posted! I'm getting a little busier in schoolwork so part four is in progress; the only thing I can promise is more than three days and less than a week-but I'm anxious to see what happens between Silas and Darque myself so my finger keep tapping on these keys. Next chapter: More lusty, hot sex!