A Bride for the Mountain God (Divine Dragons 2)

Someone was screaming bloody murder, of that, I was sure. But with my legs flying under me and my feet slamming into the dirt with each hurried step, it took longer than I’d like to admit for me to realize I was the one screaming their lungs raw. Only because the breath I sucked in cut the noise off before morphing into ragged gasps as I fled.

I heard my governess and her ancient, croaky voice in my head just then. “Princesses don’t run,” she’d say. “Princesses don’t belong in the woods,” she’d grouse. “And princesses certainly don’t get chased by dragons.”

Well, she’d go pale if she saw me now.

The thick, overlapping canopy above blocked most of the light from the stars and moon. Dangling vines smacked into my face and tangled in my hair as I sped blindly through the woods. Branches and underbrush scraped at my arms and legs, ripping the fine material of my dress. Gravel and sharp rocks tore up the soles of my shoes.

I felt none of the pain as the forest assaulted me. Only fear, burning lungs, strained muscles, and my painfully beating heart came through the dense panic.

A thunderous roar echoed through the woods and over the mountain. An enormous figure towered over the trees, blocking what little night light breached the thicket. Massive wings beat in the air, sending storm force winds barreling through the woods. The power of those giant flapping wings fought back the storm in the sky, cleared the fog from the mountain, and sent me hurtling ass over head down the side of a hill.

I fell gracefully, I was sure, as a princess should. Never mind the dirt smearing on my skin or the twigs twisting into my hair as I spiraled downward. I landed in a heap of stained golden fabric on my hands and knees. In the following uneasy silence, I sucked in a lungful of air and grasped around for what remained of my wits.

My heart stalled.

The draconian roaring had stopped, as had the beating of wings. Slow tendrils of fog crept back into the edges of the underbrush, and a low wind whooshed in the distance. That frozen moment of near silence frightened me more than the winged shadow following over the treetops, but I couldn’t place why.

I’d spent my life in luxury thanks to my greedy father, who wanted nothing but the most lavish offerings. My muscles weren’t honed to run away from beasts, my curves were a testament to a love of cakes, and my shoes were lost somewhere on the side of the fucking hill. I’d been born into creature comforts, not the savagery of the wilds. Whatever instinct to survive in nature didn’t exist within me. Survive? Yes. Nature? No.

An invisible urge slammed into me with the force of a brick wall. An ethereal, haunting voice whispered in my ears, growing louder with each echo.

Run. Run! RUN! Go now. Go now! NOW!

A branch snapped somewhere behind me. The sharp, sudden sound cracked through my fatigue.

Seizing the crumbling dredges of my strength, I bolted again. I stumbled, and a sob tore from my lips. My heart stuttered in my chest when another branch snapped, then another until heavy footsteps were chasing after me. Though they weren’t as loud as a mountain sized dragon should have been.

If the dragon wasn’t following me, what was? A large forest spirit, perhaps. Equally terrifying as either option likely led to my death.

I crashed through a stream, feet slipping on smooth pebbles and legs freezing from the rippling water around my calves. The soaked hem of my dress stuck to my legs, slowing my progress. My breath hitched when an odd rustling sound in the wind replaced the stomping steps behind me.

Standing in the middle of a shallow stream, gathering the dripping skirts of my dress, I held my breath and whipped my head in every direction. Nothing but darkness and eerie silence, but my body told me not to relax. I wasn’t safe, not yet.

Something flickered in my periphery—something large. It soared beneath the forest canopy before diving directly above me. I had a split second to register the massive, winged shape before a scream wrenched from the base of my throat.

A hard, solid body with textured skin crashed into me. For several seconds, we were suspended in the air with the breath knocked out of me. I landed on the ground, several feet from the stream. Every muscle tensed when I realized a massive hand cradled my head, keeping it from knocking dangerously on the rough earth.

“Who are you?” The voice was more of an animalistic growl than anything else. It sounded as if the mountain itself had come to life and spoke in a deep, gruff tone. The very vibrations from it traveled through me, eliciting a shiver through my body.

I went to reply, but a pitiful noise escaped instead. It was so undignified and unseemly that a wave of anger swept through some of the fear clouding my judgment. Or maybe made it worse, because the next thing I knew, my hands balled into fists and flailed blindly at the dark shape caging me to the ground.

“Get off me! Get away from me!” My legs joined the party, adding some pathetic kicks to my escape attempt.

“What are you doing in my forest?” he snapped, teeth audibly gnashing near my face. The biggest, roughest pair of hands I’d ever felt wrapped around my wrists and yanked them over my head. He bound my wrists with one hand so easily my brain stalled.

“Fuck you!” I spat without thinking, then promptly continued squirming. My legs thrashed uselessly as my overgrown captor straddled me and held my hands over my head.

A rough chuckle cracked through him. The abrupt sound of it startled me so much I froze, finally glancing up.

“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” he leaned back a fraction. The hint of amusement in his tone clashed with my fear. With dawning dread, I assessed every visible aspect of the beast in the meager midnight lighting.

Long, wavy black hair fell around a strong, square face. His sharp jaw was set, muscle feathering as he gritted his teeth. My eyes slowed, taking an extra second to admire the full bow shape of his lips. Then up to dark eyes, an impossible shade of glowing emerald, green with slit pupils like a serpent. And he stared down at me, half scowling and half curious.

I choked on air when the moonlight brightened overhead, revealing the rich forest green shade of smooth scales covering his body. Every inch of him was a testament to the colors of green that existed in nature—it was oddly beautiful.

A flapping sound brought my attention to the wings spread out behind him, confirming my growing suspicion he was no man at all, nor was he a mere forest spirit. Then my eyes darted up to his head when he tipped his head to the side. Curved horns with a subtle tree-bark texture crowned his head, mirroring the dragon’s horns exactly.

“You… you’re the… the—” I couldn’t get the statement out if my life depended on it. A renewed wave of anxiety rushed through me, but I couldn’t move. Instead, I bodily trembled, joined by a meager whimper.

“The Mountain God, yes.” His head dipped lower, nostrils flaring as if… was he sniffing me? “But who are you?” That rumbling voice seared through me, and he inched impossibly closer, inhaling deeper. “Better yet, what are you?”

“What am I?” I weakly repeated, struck with confusion.

“You shouldn’t have gotten through the forest spirits alive.” His astounding size dwarfed me as he bowed over me, wings splayed wide and blocking the moonlight. His shoulders were wide, so deliciously wide—don’t go there, I warned myself.

The Mountain God pressed his face into my neck. A mouse-like squeak vented free at the warm pressure of his breath tickling my skin and his nose trailing down the column of my throat.

Something in my core woke with a vengeance—an impossible heat that I most certainly should not experience under the weight and warmth of the damn Mountain God. But it was there, burning and throbbing with a pulse between my legs as the seconds stretched into an eternity.

He was so big, so warm. The hand engulfing mine was surprisingly careful, almost tender. Each puff of air past his hovering lips caressed my neck and shoulders until my nipples went taut.

“The forest,” I struggled for words, fighting through a new haze taking over my mind, “it did something.” My lashes fluttered shut when a hot, wet tongue licked up the side of my neck to the tender spot beneath my ear. Whimpers turned into moans when he tasted me again, as if exploring something—searching for an answer he’d only find within me. “Vines cut me loose, then there was a song—”

“A song?” he stilled, going as hard as living stone above me.

“Yes, I heard a song in the forest… like it was calling to me.” I didn’t know why I answered, but it felt important.

“Hmm,” his rumbling hum turned into another devastatingly slow lick across my skin. Another followed, from the spot behind my ear to the upper swells of my breasts spilling from my bodice. His nose pressed to the top of my cleavage, and I squeaked again. He inhaled deeply, heavily, as if he could suck my essence into himself and learn the answer to every question he’d never asked.

An embarrassing heat pooled behind my navel from his salacious attention. Even with my past lovers, no one had provoked such a vicious quivering need in my core. The strength of that throbbing desire was almost violent, aching… annoying.

Was I really getting so ridiculously aroused by a massive dragon-man licking at my neck?

In short, yes. And it infuriated me to the point of lunacy. I might have been sacrificed to the Mountain God, but that didn’t mean I should be turned on to such a maddening degree from something so simple.

I opened my mouth to say something waspish and demanding. Maybe I’d berate him for licking me or tell him off for scaring me half to death by chasing me through the woods. His baritone, godly voice dashed those thoughts out of existence.

“I understand now.” He leaned back again, and the rush of cool air on my heated, damp skin made me shiver. His hold on my wrists vanished. My arms remained in place, as if he’d cast a spell over me with his words. “The forest called you to me because you’re mine. You’ve come to me at last.” The Mountain God skimmed one claw-tipped finger along the curve of my cheek, stealing my breath. “My bride. My mate. Mine.”