A Bride for the Water God (Divine Dragons 1)

Oh, shit. I hit the Water God in the face with a book.

The Water God who was now my husband.

My heart ricocheted around in my chest like a startled hummingbird and each breath was a strained rasp through my constricted throat. Panic tightened my skin, and my tongue became thick and dry.

He could eat me, claw me, tear me to shreds. Anything he desired, really. And by the monstrous sight of him, I knew it’d be effortlessly easy for him to break me in half.

What was worse, he might want to consummate the marriage. One look at him and his mountainous size made me hesitate. He’d break me in half, alright.

“I’m… I’m sorry I hit you, Your High—Your Majesty,” I fumbled.

His eyes rounded, and his smile faded into mild surprise. “No need for titles or honorifics with me. As my wife, you may call me by my name, little rabbit.”

“Ah, I see.” His gentle tone and the easy-going aura coming off the dragon god settled the bristling nerves under my skin. If he was going to hurt me, he would have already. “What is your name, then?”

He blinked at me.

“You don’t know my name?”

I shook my head.

“How do you not know my name? I’m the God of Water, the King of the Seas, yet you do not know my name.” He seemed truly perturbed. It almost made me smile.

“Yes, but people usually just say ‘Water God’ or ‘God of Water’. No one from my village knew your name.” I clamped my lips shut. Maybe that was why we were enduring a drought.

We’d forgotten a god’s name.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he shrugged out, stroking his chin. “I haven’t visited the mortals in a few hundred years.”

My jaw dropped, and I openly gaped at him.

“So, you’re not punishing my people for forgetting your name?” I asked.

His expression twisted as he faced me. “What? Stars no. I’m not that petty, little rabbit.”

“Hm, well without names, I suppose we’re just the Water God and the little rabbit then. What a successful union we’ll have,” I remarked, tongue dripping with sarcasm.

His gravelly, deep laughter returned. It was wholly inhuman and rich, but the sound of it made my skin tingle deliciously. I had to admit I liked the sound of it.

I wouldn’t say that to him after seeing the smug smirk from earlier.

His eyes locking onto me, suddenly serious and sultry, made me choke on air. His voice was as smooth as flowing water in a river as he said, “I am Calder, wife. And what is your name?”

“Marilla,” I squeaked out.

His eyes closed, and I saw his impossibly long tail curving behind him. An almost purring noise started in his chest. “Marilla,” he repeated, as if tasting my name on his tongue.

My cheeks heated at the wanton sound.

“Would you like to see your new home, Marilla?” he asked, like he was nothing more than a cordial host and didn’t have his nose pressed into my panties moments ago.

I glanced around the current once more, noticing more details. The structure seemed almost made of marble, but with a pearlescent sheen to the surface. It was a large room meant to accommodate a very large dragon man with a massive bed I was currently in the middle of, and various pieces of furniture made of pearly-white wood.

There was a chandelier on the ceiling made of sea glass, crystals, pearls, and seashells. It caught the early morning light coming through the pillars and reflected it on every surface. Through the open pillars, I recognized the familiar smell of the beach and salty ocean air in the pleasant breeze.

He placed one giant hand out for me. I paused, considering my situation and the dragon god offering me his hand. With no other option in sight, I accepted and slid off the bed.

The floor was a smooth mosaic of ocean glass and broken pits of shells formed into swirling, looping patterns. It was lovely and warmed by the sunlight. It felt good on my bare feet.

The room was larger than the home I’d grown up in. I couldn’t imagine myself living in a place so divine or luxurious.

“My new home?” I mused to myself.

“Yes, of course. I haven’t taken a bride before, so I’m sure this is new for both of us. But I do intend for you to reside with me,” he answered, keeping his hand on mine.

Our connected hand pulled me to look at him up and up. He was so damn tall I was in his shadow. He was wearing some sort of white and gold toga that tied over one shoulder and stopped just above his knees. My face came up to his sternum, and I had to crane my head back to meet his eyes.

Were all the gods monstrous giants?

I knew he was a dragon, but even the human-dragon form before me was massive.

The space between my thighs twirled as I contemplated the intense size difference.

Using our bound hands, Calder led me through the pillars. There was a natural, confident swagger in his steps. He knew he was powerful and strong, and there was something about that confidence that made me tingle.

As I suspected, the room that we exited was only one part of a massive palace. The structure rose from the world with twisted, colorful spires that mirrored colossal spiraling shells. Various sea-glass windows and balconies were scattered over the shell-like towers.

And I was going to live here? How long was that going to be? Was I a real bride or a temporary object for the god?

Calder waited patiently as I stood in awe of his palace. A delighted expression settled over his face as I sighed wistfully at the gorgeous structure. He was proud of his home and pleased with my reaction to it.

The beach we stood on was equally gorgeous. Somehow it was prettier than the ocean I’d grown up near—the very ocean I’d be released to.

Where the sea near my home was tumultuous, dark, and unforgiving, the ocean surrounding the Water God’s home was as still as glass and as blue as the sky on a bright summer day. The water was so clean and clear that I swore I saw fish and other creatures swimming under the surface.

“You’ve never taken a bride before?” I asked the question, burning a hole on my tongue. Even as we walked around his impressive island, that statement lingered with me.

Calder eventually released my hand while pointing out various places and objects throughout the island. His hands moved a lot when he talked, as did his wings and tail. IT was like all his extremities had to be involved when he talked, matching his emotions and words with draconic flair.

His wings twitched and his tail flicked as he glanced down at me. He regarded me for a moment, before dipping his chin. “No. You’re the only one to ever make it through the rusalka,” he answered, clearly impressed.

It made me blush.

“Barely,” I blurted. “If you hadn’t risen from the water, they might have sunk my boat. Those sea-bitches are relentless.”

His head fell back, and his shoulders and wings shook with his laughter. He laughed as if it was the first time in years he’d done so.

Despite feeling the sands between my toes, I felt like I was walking on air.

I made the Water God laugh.

“They are relentless,” he agreed, his chuckles fading. His relaxed smile remained, keeping one fang on display. “Which reminds me. You have free rein to roam the island at your leisure. And you may swim in the shallows where the water is clear, but never ever go into the bay where the water is dark. There’s a steep drop and the rusalka frequent that spot.”

“Understood,” I contended.

“You made it as far through the rusalka as possible. I saw you fighting them off with that little toothpick of an oar and something stirred in me. I’d never accepted any of the brides sent to me before, but when I saw the fierce sparkle in your eyes, that indomitable will to live, I knew you were going to be mine.” His smooth, alluring voice felt like rum going down, sweet and hot.

“I needed to survive.” I stopped, catching his attention. When Calder turned back to watch me, I continued, rushing my words out. “My people are dying. They have no drinkable water and no rain for their crops. I’ve seen friends die, and I fear my parents… my, my sister… I fear they are next.”

A sigh breached his lips. His brows pinched together, and his sinful blue lips thinned into a line. The dragon god placed one scaled and claw tipped hand on my shoulder, thumb smoothing over me.

“You will have to trust me, little rabbit,” he concluded.

“That’s it?” I nudged his hand away. My voice grew louder. “I’ve left everything behind. My elders sacrificed me thinking I’d die, and I woke up in a strange place. And you expect me to just trust you?”

“For now, you must trust me, Marilla.” His eyes were powerful, roiling like the stormy seas I’d grown up watching, and there was the hint of a plea in their depths.

“I don’t… I don’t know. This is a lot to take in—” a grumbling in my stomach cut me off.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had a full meal. My arms crossed over my stomach, and I tore my eyes away from the Water God. Embarrassment flooded my stomach, dulling the empty ache. I’d grown used to the hunger gnawing at my insides.

“Come along, little wife. Let me feed you.” A sparkle in his eyes tugged me along. When the dragon god offered his hand again, I relented. “Humans have feasts when they wed, don’t they? Let’s have a feast in your honor.”

The promise of food made my insides gnash and writhe. But the thought of a feast was bittersweet when I thought of my family barely surviving on scraps.

Marilla