The fury consumed everything else—the rational voice warning me about the danger I was in, the tactical part of my mind calculating escape routes, even the basic survival instinct that should have kept me cowering. All of it disappeared beneath the clarity of my rage. I had not survived the purges in Logres, endured months of grueling training in Annwyn, andinfiltrated Camelot itself just to be claimed like some prize to be hoarded in a dragon's lair.
"I am not your mate." I spat the words at him. "I'm your death."
Arthur chuckled, and the beast chuckled with him.
Take her. Drag her into our lair. Make the world hear her surrender.
It was the beast's voice once more—but now I could hear it in Arthur's thoughts.
Before I could think further on it, Arthur had moved with inhuman speed—suddenly standing behind me, his body a wall of heat against my back. His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, forcing me down until my cheek flattened against the dragon's scales. The massive heartbeat thundered in my ear, so loud it drowned out my own gasps.
Hold her down. Let her feel who owns her.
The dragon's voice reverberated through my skull, but instead of terror, I felt something else entirely—a strange pull, like recognition.
Behind me, I heard the rustle of fabric, the quick movements of Arthur freeing himself from his braies. My fingers splayed against the dragon's scales, seeking purchase, seeking anything to ground myself. But the warmth beneath my palms seemed to seep into my skin, and with it came whispers I couldn't quite understand—memories that weren't mine, desires that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.
Take her breath. Give her ours.
I could feel the head of Arthur's cock at my opening. And suddenly I wanted to fight. Wanted to summon ice sharp enough to freeze his blood. But my magic wouldn't answer—or perhaps it simply refused to obey when the dragon's presence filled every corner of my awareness.
Submit, little warrior. You cannot stop us.
Arthur's hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise. Then he pushed inside me in one brutal thrust that tore a cry from my throat. The dragon beneath us rumbled its approval, and I felt that vibration everywhere—through my pressed cheek, my splayed hands, deep in my core where Arthur filled me.
My body was a traitor. Even as my mind screamed its fury, my flesh yielded to him. I grew wetter with each stroke of Arthur's cock. Each rough movement sent pleasure spiraling through me, building. The dragon's heartbeat synced with my own, and I couldn't tell where the beast ended and I began.
Feel her soften for us.
I shattered around Arthur's cock with a sob that might have been rage or surrender or both. My body clenched, pulsing, and Arthur followed immediately—his release hot inside me as he bent over my back, his breath harsh against my ear.
Ours,the dragon whispered.
And gods help me, some dark corner of my soul whispered back:Yes.
The dragon's scales rippled beneath my cheek, and I felt something shift in the air, taking the thrill of my release away instantly. In its place was a cold darkness, a magic that was completely alien to my own. A feeling of dread overcame me. I glanced down to watch the dragon's scales beneath me and surrounding me beginning to crack, splitting open like old stone worn by centuries of rain.
From those fissures, hands emerged. Skeletal fingers wrapped in tattered remnants of flesh grasped for purchase. I tried to push myself up, but Arthur's hand pressed harder between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned.
"You are an offering, theirs for the taking."
"No," I gasped, but the word came out broken.
The dead kings of Camelot pulled themselves from the dragon's hide like insects emerging from a corpse. Their eyes were empty sockets that somehow still saw, their mouths stretched even though they couldn't form words. Crown fragments clung to shattered skulls. Rotted finery hung from bones that clicked and scraped against the dragon's scales.
"My ancestors hunger," Arthur's voice held that terrible doubled quality—man and beast speaking as one. "And what better tribute than the flesh of my mate?"
No. No, no, no—
The first king's bony hands seized my hips where Arthur had just released them. I felt the scrape of bone against my inner thighs, the feel of something long dead pressing inside where Arthur's seed still leaked from me. My scream echoed through the cavern, bouncing off walls I couldn't see.
Another took his place. Then another. The parade of corpses used me one after another while Arthur watched, his hand never leaving my back. The dragon rumbled its approval, and I could feel that sound vibrating through my core with each thrust from the dead.
Tribute,the beast whispered.Offering. Ours to give. Ours to share.
Then light pierced the darkness.
From the dragon's massive skull, a blade emerged—gleaming, perfect, wrapped in blue flame. Excalibur. The sword rose higher, its light growing incredibly bright as it burned away the darkness, the dead kings.
