The Dragon's Slave

Chapter 6

Thank you for every read, vote and comment on this story so far! The encouragement is motivating. I am working diligently on the next few parts. This section is a tad early because I am leaving on vacation later this week and I didn't want to leave two weeks between updates. I should be back in time to post the next chapter next week, depending on how editing goes. Again, thank you everyone for reading!

 "Please eat, I hate eating by myself. But Morkuth gets upset when I don't. Says his beast gets distressed."

I blinked at Tharisa. Yep. She was still talking. Here I was having a revelation; my master was something more than human, likely impossible to escape and she blabbered on about her cheese and bread.

Sadly, however, my stomach gurgled. Used as it was to limited food and fasting, the fresh bread titillated my nostrils. I was hungry. I broke off a small bit, soft to my fingertips, and still warm.

"Well, tell me. If your haven't seen the dragon, what is it like to bed Firestriker as a man? I bet he is vicious in bed...or maybe he prefers to be out of it..."

I made a sound somewhere between a dying chicken's warble and the snorting of a pig. My bread lodged in my throat.

Tharisa looked up with concern and raised from her bench, slapping my back when she neared.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, blushing deep red as she sat back down. "I have to admit, my curiosity has gotten the better of me on more than one occasion. Perhaps Morkuth is right and I need to learn some restraint."

It was my turn to blush. Without saying a word I had managed to chastise a woman far beyond my social standing. If she ever discovered what I was she would hate me.

"It's alright," I consoled. "I'm just...I haven't consummated with Firestriker yet."

"No?" Tharisa lost her blush immediately and perked up. "Then there is still a chance you might be..." she paused, staring at a lemon tree in the corner. "Yes, why else would he bring you here."

"Uh..." was that a question she expected an answer to?

"Oh! But then I should warn you. If the dragon does appear you must never deny it." She leaned over the table and tapped my hand. "The dragon is primal, barely within control in many instances, but when they find their mate..."

She raised the hem of her skirt, so far that I frowned, just what...

Then I saw them, long white lines from long healed scars.

"He did that?" I blinked at them. When they were fresh they must have been deep. Not that markings were particularly surprising. Bedroom slaves often ended up with many. Some masters reveled in them.

"Not on purpose," she shook her head sadly. "For the dragon the need is so great. Morkuth's beast went insane for a time afterward. For a dragon to harm it's mate...well it isn't done. They are as protective as they are possessive."

That could be a problem. My chances simply diminished, one after another.

Footfalls and a low growling voice barked in the corridor. I leapt in my skin.

Tharisa flinched too, the bread she pinched fell to the floor. The corner of her lips pulled into a frown.

Through the door Scet's reply was muffled, the words beyond recognition, but his tone was much subdued.

Something solid slammed against the door. Hard. The dark heavy wood shuddered on its hinges.

"Oh for...he had better not wreck my door or I am sending Morkuth after him." Tharisa rose from her seat and strode to the door.