Dragon Bound: Lunes & Lords, #3

By Emi Davis

~*~Dragon Bound is the last of three 30,000-word (approx 120 page) installments of the Lunes & Lords miniseries. The story began with Dragon Call and Dragon Dance.~*~

Wrists bound to a hotel bed. Wrong dragon in her head. Flavor of fire on her tongue. That's how the end begins.

Cora can't run anymore. Not ever again. The mysteries of her life, the heritage she denied, the lovers and enemies she's fled have all caught up to her, ready to eat her from the inside out if she doesn't embrace her birthright, bind her draconic subjects, and rule like the queen she was born to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Ryan-Davis
• Release date: Aug 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781497741430

Book preview

Chapter One

I’ve never seen anybody breathe fire.

Cora ran her tongue around the inside of her lips, lapping up the residual spice of fire on her breath. She should try that again once the inky shadow undulating across the ceiling returned to her. Once she escaped the handcuffs that bound her to the hotel bed.

My dragon. A tiny hard seed in her stomach, the pearl she’d swallowed mere hours ago, pulsed like a throbbing muscle tic. Responded to her thought. She repeated the possession, aloud this time, and the shadow stopped dancing. A tiny worry wormed into the back of her mind. Did Ii want to be her dragon? He didn’t want to belong to Greg—had, as she recalled, wanted free of Greg so badly that he wrenched himself free. Violently. She shuddered at the memory of Greg’s desperation, his scary panic that became more forceful as Ii grew more discontent.

Her jailor-lover spoke again. She manifests too strongly and doesn’t know how to be the one in charge. The dragon has to come out. The door that stood between them dampened the strength of his voice and enhanced the worry in his words.

Her own anxiety caught flame, the spark fed by Salim’s muffled conversation. She had to learn how to be the boss, or she would find herself just like Greg— flung around like a doll, unable to maintain a handle on her own emotions, expressions, actions...even after the dragon moved on. Ii wouldn’t remain tied to a host who didn’t know what to do. He’d proven that with Greg, had sought her out once he wearied of the alchemist’s weaknesses. He searched for her—she was convinced of it. Some vague, accidental mating call didn’t bring Ii all by itself. Da’ar Es Saleem, yes—he was strong, content with his host’s abilities, in a satisfied state that allowed him to respond to her without becoming a crazed thing.

He doesn’t need me.

The realization stung, pinched her heart. It meant she wasn’t necessary to Salim either.

Cora yearned for Salim’s touch, a reassuring stroke of his hand, an inclusion into his plans, but he had decided she was too dangerous to consult. Excluded her from her own future. She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, bit her bruised, split lip until it throbbed. He’d turned her into a case. An assignment. She wouldn’t call for him no matter how much she missed him.

She tuned out the exchange and focused on Ii, on bringing him close. The dragon had fled earlier, exhaled like so much fire, and not returned. Salim had warded the room to keep the dragon from running off with her, but Ii clung to the ceiling as if Salim had also placed an invisible shield over the bed. Distance wouldn’t do. She needed the dragon close in order to establish a real connection.

Then she could prove her strength so Ii wouldn’t ultimately turn her inside out and leave her rabid like Greg. Until she could figure out how to be the one on top, however, she had to come up with a backup plan. Ii responded to her sexually...could she use that?

Speaking with her body, she flattened her abdomen and arched her back. Muscles in her torso creaked a stiff, aching protest. She ignored the reminder of her encounter with the alchemist and brought her knees up. Her feet inched apart on the mattress. A blanket covered her thighs, but it drooped into the vee she’d made by spreading her legs. With her arms stretched above her head, her wrists bound to the headboard, she had few other alternatives for striking a welcoming pose. Open arms or open thighs didn’t matter, though. Ii wanted to be inside the heart of her more than in her arms. He’d made that clear from the very beginning, but Salim’s dragon had never allowed Ii to come closer than a rude nuzzle to the crotch before catching the weaker dragon up short and hauling him off.

Da’ar Es Saleem’s response was a possessive male thing, a refusal to share. He probably also believed it was a protective move—one that shielded her from the violence Ii displayed over and over again. She appreciated the gesture, but she saw more in Ii than evil. His sullen bully visage hid a guarded vulnerability. The white dragon wanted more than sex...but that would draw him close, distract him until she learned more.

On the other side of the door, Salim barked, I can’t teach her to control it!

Don’t worry, she whispered as she lifted her hips from the bed and offered herself to Ii. I know how, now.

She even forgave Salim...a little. He was right, he couldn’t teach her. Not this. The dragon pushed away from the ceiling and descended upon the bed, closing in until she could see his tiny light particles. Multifaceted eyes formed from the cloud of faint light, which feathered her cheeks and throat. Warmed her. Cora held her breath, swallowed a surprised sigh as the ache that plagued her face, tenderness left from her battle with Greg, eased. Could Ii heal? Brow knit in concentration, she focused on his path down her torso.

The light filtered down between her breasts along the zipper of her sweatshirt. Her oblique muscles warmed and relaxed, and, this time, she couldn’t contain the sigh. Ii’s essence hit her like magic and soaked away the hurt.

His exploration moved into her hair. Tickled her ears. Blotted out the line of light beneath the door, the sound of Salim’s footfalls on the carpet in the adjoining room. Ii was seducing her. Sequestering her in sensory isolation. She curled her toes against the mattress as fear hedged close. Her helplessness, Ii’s proximity, abruptly flashed her back to the night she’d first summoned the dangerous creature. How had she forgotten that? Allowed it to fade into muted shades of gray in the back of her mind? The temporary confidence in her ability to command the dragon, the arrogance of believing she had any control over the situation, deflated with a whoosh of breath.

Her fear mounted as she skimmed back through memory. Each nuzzle at her knees, staking claim. Ii’s sullen behavior the night she first instructed the dragons to show themselves to her. His presence in the bathroom, coming out of the steam. What would have happened if Salim had allowed her to bring the dragons into their passion?

Ii settled between her thighs, answering the question. She drew a shallow breath, instinctively tightening even her most intimate muscles, employing every cell in her body to hold him at bay. Stop, she demanded. It came as a whisper, feeble and hitched by terror.

Ii paused and changed. His flittering light particles came together, solidified, shaped themselves like a man. Cora cringed and braced herself for the backlash of his shift as pearly, golden limbs formed from the light. He crouched over her, head bowed and face pillowed between her breasts. His weight pressed her down, solid and real. And the shock she anticipated never came. No vertigo. No nausea.

No headache. Only a flutter deep inside as her body recognized the message in his masculine shape.

You wanted this, he said aloud. You offered it. It was the first time she’d heard his voice outside her head, speaking in her own language. The velvet timbre shot straight to her toes. Instinctively, she recognized it as his true voice.

He wasn’t a filter for Greg Cho anymore. The dragon was all hers.

Throat tight, she stuttered, I d-didn’t—c-can’t...stop.

He lifted his head and pinned her with his glittering stare. Either you are strong and you take me, or you are weak and I take you.

Cora blinked at him. Are you...advising me?

Wordlessly, he rose up on his knees and fanned his claw-tipped hands across her abdomen. Heat flared from his palms, softening and warming her from the inside. Probing. Searching. Creating a nest for himself. An invisible thread slid between his talons and the pearl pulsing in her stomach. He tugged the thread. Her back bowed slightly, maneuvered by the slender tendril of light. She gasped and clutched the sheets with her toes.

You change your mind, back and forth, he said as he lifted his elbow and pulled her fully off the bed. I can manipulate you just like this because you do not make a choice and hold to it. Ii lowered his hand and dropped her to the mattress.

Why are you telling me this? she asked, throat tight.

Ii cocked his head and slid his palm up the center of her chest until his thumb curved against her bottom lip. Because I want to stay.

Get me out of these. She rattled the handcuffs against the headboard. Salim said you could help me get free.

He also said my strength would run away from you. He traced the outline of her mouth with the sharp tip of his claw. Do you promise to keep it in check?

She didn’t trust herself to answer. Ii pressed his knuckle against the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted of their own accord, and she inhaled his scent onto her tongue. Citrus, fresh linen and cinnamon-spicy potpourri—the fragrances of the room—slowed under the stronger notes of his darker perfume, a pheromone bouquet of desire and surrender.

Could she keep a promise like that? A vow to maintain the upper hand? Heat flushed her cheeks, and a remembered rush of power surged through her veins. She’d enjoyed mastering Salim. Binding his hands to her bed, blindfolding him, riding him until the satisfaction of claiming had left her sated and sleepy.

Ii’s eyes flashed. Answer, he said. His weight shifted forward, and his arousal pressed her