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Just the thought of him trying to wedge his massive dick inside my hole has me wanting to scream and flail and possibly faint. But I need to control my thoughts, calm down, and keep working on my plan. If only I had something to eat, maybe I’d feel stronger, more focused. I can only hope his next offering of food is less stomach-churning.
We stop at a nearby cave, little more than a recess in the rock, and my captor speaks to a slender blue dragon in Dragonish. I have no idea what they’re saying to each other. At the back of the recess sits a plump girl, swathed in a scarlet cloak, her cheeks red and her eyes bright. She doesn’t look particularly unhappy to be there, which puzzles me. I want to call out to her, but before I can decide what to say, my captor and I leave again.
The black dragon carries me away from the mountainous cliffs and broad plains of the coast, toward the center of the island, where lies a great hollow valley, perhaps the mouth of some ancient, dormant volcano. Smaller gorges and ravines stretch outward from it like the rays of the sun in a child’s drawing. The dragon dives toward a blue lake in the middle of the valley.
“This is where we hunt deer,” he says. “They are a delicacy, since we try not to enter the forest too often. It’s difficult to move through the trees with our size and our wings. Most of our diet is plant life, goats, sheep, or wild pigs. And fish or eels, for those with the skill to catch them. In the meadows to the south we keep a herd of cattle, supervised and protected by a rotating guard. Those are for feast days.”
I perk up at that. “You have cows? I want milk.”
The dragon swoops lower, over the grassy bank of the lake, and drops me into some ferns before landing nearby. He gives me a stern look. “You would suckle at the udder of a cow?”
“No! I would milk it, I suppose.” I’ve never milked a cow in my life, although I’ve wanted to try it. I shouldn’t appear too eager to do menial tasks, though. I’m supposed to play the part of a demanding, spoiled brat.
Holding my ruined dress in place, I lift my chin haughtily. “What about the other women your dragons took? Have one of them milk a cow for me. I am a princess, after all.”
“So you keep saying.” His upper lip curls, revealing the glint of huge fangs. “Bathe, human. You stink of vomit.”
“Maybe I like to stink.”
“You don’t. You smelled delightful yesterday, so I assume that when you have the choice, you prefer to be clean and fragrant. Remove those rags and wash yourself.”
Before answering, I survey my surroundings. Thick, soft grass caresses my toes. It’s so much greener and richer than the closely trimmed stuff in the palace gardens. I used to run barefoot on that grass whenever I got the chance, though I was usually rebuked by one of my mother’s sycophants—I mean, “ladies of the court.”
I can run on the grass barefoot as much as I want here. And the air is far sweeter and cleaner than the air of the capital. The glassy surface of the lake reflects the azure sky overhead, and the nearby forest rustles in the breeze, each green leaf quivering as if it’s delighted to exist in the broad sunlight and the mountain air.
Clear lake water laps at the pebbled beach, turning the stones shiny and dark. A little further in, the pebbles give way to sandy shallows, perfect for easing the pain of weary feet and bruised limbs.
I feel wretched, soiled, and grimy. And that cool water looks inviting, even though I’m a little nervous about what creatures might wriggle beneath the waters.
“Are there leeches in there? Eels? Snakes?” I ask. “What about other creatures? Is it slimy?”
“It’s safe. Now be quiet, and clean yourself.”
“I will bathe, but not in front of you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to see me naked.”
He adjusts his wings, pinning them close to his sides. “Again, why not?”
“Because…” Fuck, I’ve never had to explain this before. “I don’t want you to see my body and desire me.”
He snorts. “I can see you right now. There is nothing desirable about you.”
“You haven’t seen all of me.”
“And seeing you unclothed would make a difference?” he says dryly. “You think a few bits of pasty human flesh would send me into a mating frenzy?”
“Well, when you put it like that, I suppose not. But for human males, the sight or even the hint of such things is usually enough to spur sexual desire.”
“Dragons do not experience such feelings, except every twenty-five years, during mating season,” he replies. “At that time, every dragon past their twenty-fourth year goes into heat for one week, and we couple to produce eggs.”
Surprise shocks me out of my discomfort. “You don’t have sex at any other time?”
“No.”
“What about with spouses or partners?”
