Sleeping on a dragon's hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.
―C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
England, September 1559
The halls of Hampton Court Palace were quiet so close to midnight. There was no sound of laughter from the courtiers, not even the hushed murmurs of gentlemen luring young maids into dark corners for secret kisses. The tapestries lining the stone walls rippled faintly with the breeze that slipped in through half—open windows.
Mikhail Barinov adjusted his black—and—gold doublet as he walked in light, quiet steps toward a bedchamber door. He ignored the prickle of unease he felt at the silence cloaking him as he saw a guard ahead. The man was posted outside the door, his hand resting on the pommel of a lethal—looking blade that Mikhail wasn't the least bit afraid of. He was, after all, not human. He was a dragon shifter, and there had been no human yet who had been able to do him harm.
"Halt!" the guard growled. Mikhail was close enough to see the whites of the other man's eyes in the flickering light of the wall sconces.
He raised his hands, showing his empty palms before he offered a slight courtly bow. "My name is Mikhail Barinov. Her Majesty requested my presence." When the guard relaxed, Mikhail removed a small bit of parchment from his doublet and handed it to the man.
The guard scowled as he stared at it. The odds that the man could even read were small, not that he would admit such a thing. But the royal seal of Queen Elizabeth was visible on the paper, and the guard recognized it at once.
"Wait here." The guard rapped his knuckles on the door behind him, then disappeared into the queen's antechamber. A minute later he reappeared, flustered as he pushed the heavy oak door wide, allowing Mikhail to enter. He nodded at the guard and stepped into the antechamber.
A soft voice rose from a chair beside the fire. "Well now. I was worried you might not come." The woman leaned forward in her chair, allowing the light and shadows of the flames to dance upon her. Her long reddish—gold hair was unbound and cascaded over her shoulders in ripples of fire.
Mikhail swallowed hard as a bolt of desire shot through him. Queen Elizabeth, the newly anointed monarch, wasn't a traditional beauty with delicate elfin features. Rather, there was a cunning curve to her lips and a keen sharpness to her eyes that warned a man she was not some wilting flower, but his equal. He found it enticing.
"I would not refuse my queen's summons," Mikhail said as he drew closer.
"Am I your queen?" As she rose from her chair, he caught a glimpse of her gown. The orange satin overskirt and the gold—and—silver embroidered bodice presented a tempting view of her breasts. She wore no ruffles or stiff collars tonight. She looked more like the twenty—five—year—old woman who had unexpectedly learned she was to become queen and not the cold, disciplined monarch she'd become.
"You are my queen," Mikhail replied, his voice turning husky. The scent of her body lulled his inner dragon into a heady state of submission. He wanted to growl in pleasure and rub himself against her. She was untouched, the virgin queen, and Mikhail knew that was a dangerous thing to be around. A dragon was drawn to maidens; the purity in them was as bewitching as an uncut gemstone. Their scent alone could drive a dragon to sweet madness.
"Don't you owe your loyalty to Ivan? Would you forsake your czar for me?" Elizabeth trailed pale, delicate fingers along the back of her chair, a coy smile upon her lips.
"The Barinov family makes alliances with whomever we please," Mikhail said. He had traveled a long way from his home in Russia to come to the English court to arrange for a treaty with a clan of English dragons. He'd thought he would long for Russia, but in fact he did not miss his homeland. Not when he looked at this woman. England felt right, and Elizabeth… She was his true mate. And when a dragon mated, it was forever.
True mates were sacred, and from the moment he'd seen her, he'd known she was his, the one destiny had chosen for him. There could be no other. He'd answered her summons tonight to tell her what he really was and to offer her his heart and his love. He didn't care that mating her would shorten his life immeasurably—all that mattered was being with her.
"Yes. The Barinov family. I was so curious when you arrived at court. The rumors I've heard are quite…interesting." She came closer and reached up to brush the backs of her fingers along his jaw. His skin burned at her touch. Once they kissed, he would begin to bond with her so strongly that it could never be undone. His heart and hers would unite in a way that human lovers could only ever dream about.
"Rumors?" he replied, his eyes half—closed as he enjoyed her sensual caress. It made his inner dragon growl in pleasure.
"Hmmm… They say that you have an ink marking on your back, a mighty dragon that is said to move." Her brown eyes were cool and impassive, but a hint of a smile lingered on her lips.
That sense of unease returned as he studied Elizabeth closely. His tattoo was the beast's outward form when he was human. How could she know about that?
"I…" He hesitated. Was now the time to confess it all?
She ran a fingertip down his doublet to his stomach, making his abs quiver and tense. "Show me, Mikhail. Please your queen." He'd wanted to show his true self to her for so long, and now the time had come. His heart raced as he accepted this moment, this unveiling of the truth to his intended mate.