Read Online ALIEN ROMANCE: Captivated by the Alien Lord (Alien Invasion Abduction SciFi Romance) (Kahara Lords Book 7) by Lindsay Blanc - Free Book Online
Authors: Lindsay Blanc
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saddle, to strip him of his tack. "I am waiting," she said quietly.
"What know you," he asked instead of answering, “of dragons?"
What knew she of dragons? Little, in fact. She had never seen one with her own eyes, had never faced one in a fight. Her father, too, had gone all his life without the sight of one. They were creatures of the ancient world, who kept to themselves except when they sought some treasure, hiding in caves among the rocks. White scaled and twenty feet from nose to flank, their tails another ten of whipcord flexible muscle. They were dangerous, and she did not believe there was one in the Wyndwae, except that Fintan had said there had been.
"Very little," she said finally. "I have only heard of them. I thought the villagers saying they had seen one must be mistaken. This far east, there are only the little drakes."
"Most times, that is true."
Over Embarr's back, she could see his face, could see the expression there in the last of the light. It was grave and attentive, though there was nothing in it that seemed to say she should be afraid. Mairead took the brush from her saddlebags, and then began working over her mount's short hair, brushing sweat and dirt from his coat.
"And other times?"
"Other times, perhaps, even dragons seek new sights."
Her gaze flicked from Embarr's coat to Fintan's face. His eyes met hers, but his expression did not change. Mairead tossed the brush she had held back into its bag, and went to kindle the fire. Neither of them spoke as she laid it, as it crackled to life under her hands. Only when the bed rolls were laid out, separated by the flame between them for the first time since the night of their meeting, did Mairead look at him once more. The firelight made strange shadows on his face.
"What am I to believe?"
"That I will not harm you." His answer was immediate. "That I never meant to do so."
"Did you think a lie was not harm?"
"I wished to know who it was that thought to challenge me," he said. "I had not expected you. When I met you, I was drawn to you, to your beauty." He smiled. "To your fire."
It was not an admission, but it was confession enough. If he indeed was the dragon, then it was she who had thought to challenge him, and she took a breath and let it out slowly, uncertain if it was anger or fear that twisted in her stomach. Perhaps it was both.
"Did you think to tell me?"
"I would have, before we reached the Wyndwae."
She began unbraiding her hair with sharp, frustrated motions, raking her fingers through it to loosen the worst of the tangles. She saw his eyes on it, and laughter bubbled unbidden in her throat.
"You are a dragon, then, so transfixed by gold."
"I admit that it is some of what drew me."
Mairead took off her boots, then settled a little more comfortably in her blankets. Her thoughts were spinning, chasing each other round and round. Questions. Condemnations. She should tell him she did not wish to see his face ever again, then pack up her things and leave. But she did not. She remained there, sitting in the warmth of the fire.
"I did not know dragons could take human shape."
"It is a well-kept secret," he said. "If humans knew, they would not rest. They let themselves be eaten up with fear. They would turn on each other, attempting to hunt us down. We are, after all, monsters."
Mairead drew a breath in sharply.
"Was that meant as accusation?"
Fintan shook his head. "No," he said, and there was honesty in his voice. "I asked you what you sought in the Wyndwae, and you said you wished to know if there was a dragon there. You said you would not hunt one that did no harm."
"No," Mairead said. "I would not."
"Then you are not the human that our kind fear. Dragons are not all the greedy things told of in your stories. Many of us simply wish to live, to be alone in our mountains. Others desire to travel. We are wiser creatures than the basilisk and the manticore. And if we eat your livestock occasionally, do you not do the
"What know you," he asked instead of answering, “of dragons?"
What knew she of dragons? Little, in fact. She had never seen one with her own eyes, had never faced one in a fight. Her father, too, had gone all his life without the sight of one. They were creatures of the ancient world, who kept to themselves except when they sought some treasure, hiding in caves among the rocks. White scaled and twenty feet from nose to flank, their tails another ten of whipcord flexible muscle. They were dangerous, and she did not believe there was one in the Wyndwae, except that Fintan had said there had been.
"Very little," she said finally. "I have only heard of them. I thought the villagers saying they had seen one must be mistaken. This far east, there are only the little drakes."
"Most times, that is true."
Over Embarr's back, she could see his face, could see the expression there in the last of the light. It was grave and attentive, though there was nothing in it that seemed to say she should be afraid. Mairead took the brush from her saddlebags, and then began working over her mount's short hair, brushing sweat and dirt from his coat.
"And other times?"
"Other times, perhaps, even dragons seek new sights."
Her gaze flicked from Embarr's coat to Fintan's face. His eyes met hers, but his expression did not change. Mairead tossed the brush she had held back into its bag, and went to kindle the fire. Neither of them spoke as she laid it, as it crackled to life under her hands. Only when the bed rolls were laid out, separated by the flame between them for the first time since the night of their meeting, did Mairead look at him once more. The firelight made strange shadows on his face.
"What am I to believe?"
"That I will not harm you." His answer was immediate. "That I never meant to do so."
"Did you think a lie was not harm?"
"I wished to know who it was that thought to challenge me," he said. "I had not expected you. When I met you, I was drawn to you, to your beauty." He smiled. "To your fire."
It was not an admission, but it was confession enough. If he indeed was the dragon, then it was she who had thought to challenge him, and she took a breath and let it out slowly, uncertain if it was anger or fear that twisted in her stomach. Perhaps it was both.
"Did you think to tell me?"
"I would have, before we reached the Wyndwae."
She began unbraiding her hair with sharp, frustrated motions, raking her fingers through it to loosen the worst of the tangles. She saw his eyes on it, and laughter bubbled unbidden in her throat.
"You are a dragon, then, so transfixed by gold."
"I admit that it is some of what drew me."
Mairead took off her boots, then settled a little more comfortably in her blankets. Her thoughts were spinning, chasing each other round and round. Questions. Condemnations. She should tell him she did not wish to see his face ever again, then pack up her things and leave. But she did not. She remained there, sitting in the warmth of the fire.
"I did not know dragons could take human shape."
"It is a well-kept secret," he said. "If humans knew, they would not rest. They let themselves be eaten up with fear. They would turn on each other, attempting to hunt us down. We are, after all, monsters."
Mairead drew a breath in sharply.
"Was that meant as accusation?"
Fintan shook his head. "No," he said, and there was honesty in his voice. "I asked you what you sought in the Wyndwae, and you said you wished to know if there was a dragon there. You said you would not hunt one that did no harm."
"No," Mairead said. "I would not."
"Then you are not the human that our kind fear. Dragons are not all the greedy things told of in your stories. Many of us simply wish to live, to be alone in our mountains. Others desire to travel. We are wiser creatures than the basilisk and the manticore. And if we eat your livestock occasionally, do you not do the
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