6. Gunnar
Chapter 6
Gunnar
I know I’ve been sucking in some witchy rut-haze candle fumes, but when the door to the dungeon opens and the dragon walks in, I swear she’s bathed in an aura of bright light and blue dancing flames.
My dick was already hard, but her presence causes my entire body to tense, and my throat aches with the itch to howl. I want to drop to my knees and worship this creature.She is part sex goddess, part fairy-tale dragon. Her black cloak is straight out of a coffin and her lace dress shows off every curve without showing anything.
And the shoes.
Those spiked red heels are a wet dream. My dick twitches against my thigh in a show of support. I want to see how they look draped over my shoulders.
She’s seriously fucking gorgeous, looking no older than thirty even though I know she’s ancient. Her power is undeniable. She looks like she could let loose her fire and toast me like a marshmallow. Somehow, that makes her hotter.
All eyes are on the sway of her hips as she walks to the center of the training room. Up close, I realize it’s her hair that’s white, so bright it appears to glow.
When she speaks, it goes straight to my cock, the sultry sound low and inviting. “Congratulations, boys, on making it through the first night on the guard. It’s no easy feat. Now you’ve had a taste of the rut and experienced the pull it can have on your wolves. Tonight, we will begin our first lessons in controlling your wolves so that you can withstand its pull.”
The dragon looks around the group of gathered wolves. Some of the idiots snort and snicker, boasting about being the one to ride the dragon. The silent wolf who always watches seethes in the corner, his low, menacing growl rolling through the room.
The longer she assesses us, the more the room grows restless. Wolves shift uncomfortably and clear their throats. Still, she doesn’t speak. Only her eyes survey the space, her dragon’s sight sharp.
After what feels like an eternity, her light eyes, almost golden, narrow in on me. “Boy. Come here.”
Fuck me sideways.
I step through the small crowd and awkwardly stand in front of her.
So low that I have to lean in to hear, she asks, “Is it true you made yourself nose plugs?”
Shit. I don’t know what the rules are, and last night, I was only thinking of making it to morning.
“Answer me,” she says with a lift of her brow.
I nod, nervous about opening my mouth and letting something stupid fall out.
Her lips twitch. “Clever.”
Her fingernails rake over my shoulder and down my back as she circles me, her gaze curious.
I don’t have a fully formed wolf. He is a phantom in my mind, little nudges of instinct. Standing like prey before a dragon causes every one of those half-formed instincts to rise. There should be fear, and there is, along with a healthy dose of don’t fuck up in front of the new boss , but more than anything, my dumbass wolf wants me to throw myself at her and beg her to let me worship her body.
She finishes circling me, pressing a singular red nail into my chest. The sharp tip digs into my skin as she drags it up my throat. The golden liquid fire in her eyes dances in amusement, and my stomach swoops with nerves.
“Is that a banana in your pocket?”
Of all the things she could have said, that’s what she asked? I know it’s the rut hash this witch has us smoking, but I’ve never been more convinced that this is the woman of my dreams. She’s got me in her sex dungeon, a crowd of wolves about to piss themselves in terror, and she leads with a bad joke?
“You’ve been around a long time, and that's the best line you’ve got?” I lob back sarcastically.
She swallows a half-formed laugh, her lips tugging into a small smile and those eyes dancing again. “No, actually, why is there a banana in your pocket?”
That’s it. From here on out, my new life goal is to get this woman to make a full belly laugh. “Henry likes me, and I like snacks?”
“Is that so?” She raises her brow. “Strip.” Those plush lips quirk. “Leave the banana.”
I obey her command. The only sounds in the room are the rustling of my clothes and the sharp clack of her heels against the stone floor. She busies herself with the torture tools, and my dick jumps, watching her walk back with some kind of steel object.
She speaks to the whole room this time. “The wolf guard at Frenzy is caged for the length of their training. That means your cock is mine. Think seriously about whether you wish to continue.”
My pulse relocates to my balls, imagining just what it would be like for her to own my cock. I don’t have to imagine much. My dick was ready to swear allegiance to the dragon as soon as she walked into the room.
Her golden gaze lands on me, that small lift still tugging at the corner of her lips. “You seem ready for me to demonstrate, wolf?”
“A beautiful dragon just said she’s going to play with my cock. Who can blame me?” I shrug, unable to get the grin off my face.
One of the wolves from the crowd grumbles, “Like an actual cage? For my dick? How do I fuck or take a piss?”
The dragon wraps a small hand around my hard cock, tugging me forward. The contact is a jolt to my system. She squeezes the head, rubbing her thumb back and forth along my weeping slit.
She talks to the crowd as she holds me in her tight grip, but I can’t focus. I know it’s important. She’s explaining shit I probably need to know, but every hair, every muscle, is strained, tense, waiting for her to glide her hand down my dick. I want her to squeeze, to throw me on the floor, to fuck me until the fire she’s ignited smolders to ashes. She gives me nothing but the tight, still hold and her slow stroke back and forth along the head.
It's torture, beautiful fucking torture.
She says something about how the heavy cage will remind the body that it is restrained for a reason, even when aroused, but it doesn’t make sense to my cotton-cloud brain. The word focus pops out of her mouth multiple times, and I try to listen, but my dick is pounding.
The room smells like an omega, soft and sweet and inviting.I can’t suck it in fast enough, searching for more of the orange that’s just a hint in the air.
Discontent rolls through the room, and the movements of wolves slinking to the guard at the door to bail draw my eye. But then a streak of crimson light shines on us, pulling my attention back to the dragon, and the room around us fades to the background.
“Let’s begin.” Her grip tightens. She smiles at me, but it’s all teeth. “Fire or ice?”
Her gaze lands on where she holds me by my length. The amount of precum dribbling from the tip should be embarrassing. But how often does a wolf get bossed around by his dick at the hands of a sexy dragon?
“Fire,” I choke out, the sound desperate. I don’t know what the fuck she means, but I’d rather go out in flames.
Her palm around my cock heats with a tingling warmth that sends a straight zip of pleasure to my balls and makes my knot ache to expand. She crowds into my space, her breath warm against my chest as her other hand rakes her nails along my abs.
I grab for her, desperate to get my hands on those serious curves. My hand just barely grazes her hip.
“Hands to yourself.” The dragon laughs, and I want to drown myself in the sound.“Vandera?”
The witch steps into view, blinding in her colorful robe. She mutters something, giving a flick of her wrist. Both arms are yanked above my head, held by an invisible rope digging into my skin. The pressure of the knotted rope only adds kindling to the fire raging in my body.That same invisible force spreads my legs, locking my ankles into place. My dick thinks this is an improvement, jumping in the dragon’s hand.
The witch’s melodic voice weaves through the room, but this time, I can’t hear anything more than my own panting. The beautiful dragon’s hands roam across my skin, little bolts of fire that tickle and tease, warming me from the inside.
I get lost in the sensations, my dick aching for her to return. The haze of rut washes over me, red and hot, as the dragon teases me until I’m only wolf, pounding with the need to sink my teeth into my mate’s neck.
Somewhere in my mind, alarm bells are wailing over the ridiculous thought that this powerful dragon is my mate. But the warning is drowned out by the fire raging in my balls.
The sharp, sweet nip of her teeth on the line of my ear makes my knot pop. “Come for me, little wolf,” she commands.
My body is hers entirely, and an orgasm blasts through me, so sharp and achingly beautiful that the world is a kaleidoscope of colors and light. It goes on and on, but she doesn’t stop tugging my cock. She keeps me there, her hands wrapped snugly around me until my body shakes uncontrollably. Then she picks up her pace, her small, heated hands twisting and squeezing until she forces me to come again. My vision blacks out, and I sag against the invisible rope, floating on some blazing sea of fire so warm and whole that I never want to leave its cocoon.
She murmurs in my ear, “That’s a good wolf. Come for me one more time. Let me get this fat cock soft.”
I submit to her with ease, letting her rule my body. She strokes me, her grip snug, warm, and wet as she fucks me with my own cum. Her maddening pace is relentless, going until my dick is spent and my limbs can barely hold me up. Something soft wipes against my oversensitive cock, then heavy steel encases my shaft. It’s smooth and unyielding, full of intense pressure from sharp points that graze the tip of my glans.
With glazed eyes, I look down, and a moon-mad laugh tumbles free. My cock is caged in a steel dragon, its mouth open at the tip to reveal four sharp fangs. This dragon literally has my dick by her teeth.
She leans in, whispering so only I can hear, “This comes off when I say you’ve been a good boy, pup.”
I’m done for. Shackle me to the dragon for life. Let me smoke the witch’s hash for the rest of my days while this dragon owns my cock.
She turns to the room and nods to the witch, who has amassed what appears to be a small army of the same omega-sweet-smelling humans from yesterday.
“Ice the others,” the dragon commands. To the silent watcher, she says, “Escort the wolf to my personal guard tower. I’ll be up in a moment. You’re to train him personally. Bring him up to speed before we leave.”
I can’t decide if that’s good or bad; my mind is too hazy to make sense of anything. The invisible ropes sag, and before I can collapse, I’m in the arms of the silent wolf. He picks me up as though I weigh nothing.
I should probably be worried that the wolf in charge has to carry my laid-out ass from the room, but for some reason, I only feel cozy. The weight of the cage is like a lullaby; my eyes are so drowsy they can’t stay open.
Home. Mates.
That’s the worst idea my half-formed wolf has ever had, and I try to stir from the silent wolf’s arms, saying I’m fine to walk, but the words come out slurred.
The distinguished wolf studies me, his gaze stern. “Who exactly are you?”
His hold tightens, pulling me against his chest, and I can’t hold out against the weight of oblivion any longer.