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Tristan's New Clothes

I bring you the last bit of "extra" from the outtakes of Tristan Two. Some things you should know before you read.


  1. These really are outtakes meaning they are not written in the order of a story. It may feel choppy.

  2. I am considering making this a novella and if I do more will be added. The time line will have to be reworked a little and the final would come out different than what I've posted here. I wrote this piece for it where we get to meet Meren and now I like Meren even more than before. However, I may just leave this as what we've got an move on to write something else of Tristan's time in Aldrien as a Novella.

  3. One of the scenes below is included in the second book but it's written from a bit of a different tense and so I always think that gives a different feel.


I just ... couldn't decide if I wanted to make this the novella or write something totally new. What I really want to do is write Tristan and Baya together and I think that would be done better at a point after all this has happened. Anywho, as I couldn't decide, I'm posting this for now. The novella of this version would follow (poor) Tristan naked for a lot longer before he got his clothes! Ha! I know he goes through a lot here but I hope it comes across as sarcastic and somewhat hilarious as it felt in my head.


The Heart of a Dragon Tamer Update:


You'd think since the book was already written it would have been up on Amazon by now. False. At least in my case. This first edit is taking forever BUT, I'm nearly done. The second round will go faster. Then I can share some excerpts. I have cut 30K from the original manuscript so far but it's still too long. Editors charge by the word. It's currently at 185K and that's WAY out of my editing budget. At this rate I'm going to have to start a go fund me for this book. Ha! If I could get it to 130 or 140K that would be ideal.


I am still accepting ARC readers. In case you're not sure what that is here's a little definition:


Advanced Reader Copy: These kinds of readers receive a free copy of the book once it's all edited and polished before release day so they can read it and leave reviews to help me pump up the book!


Oh! And if anyone has read any of my books and they could even just leave a rating on Amazon, I'm nearly at 50 ratings ... once I get to 50, Amazon helps me get more visibility. I would truly appreciate it. You don't even have to write a review. Though, those are fabulous and helpful too.


Last:


I have news! We got a new bunny. I think her name is going to end up being Arrow but I'll add a picture once it's for certain. I swear to you I wanted to name her Charlie but my husband liked Arrow better since she's fast as a flying arrow and I have to agree. Merlin picked her. I'll tell the whole story of how that happened next time!


For now, enjoy this!





Tristan's New Clothes 3/3





When we're there, Bayaden dismounts and hands his horse off to a naked male human—his cock bobbing to and fro—after he’s yanked me off the horse and half drags, half yanks me by my short hair toward the palace.
“Bayaden, lay off,” I say finally finding my voice after being subdued by the very public spanking I just endured. He lets go my hair but pushes me along saying things to me in Elvish I don’t understand, but it’s not hard to determine when someone is cursing you in any language.
I must look a disaster. I’m still dirty from earlier, my arse is probably red and bruised, my face is still heated and tear-tracked, my hair disheveled—I’m sure I look every bit the ragamuffin these Elves imagine us humans to be. “I’ve wasted half my day looking after you and you dare disobey me in front of my warriors? The other servants?”
“Slaves you mean.”
He grabs my entire jaw in his one hand. “I never wanted a pet, be careful or you might find yourself washed out with the other sewage.” He looks to mean it. I decide to keep my defiant mouth shut even though I want to scream more things at him, but I’d be screaming at the wrong person. It’s not Bayaden’s fault I’m here; it’s Andothair’s. And next I see him, he'll know just what I think.
Bayaden pushes and pulls me to the public baths. This time he puts me in the hands of some of the female servants, too irate to bathe me himself, and I choose not to remind him that I don’t need anyone to bathe me.
Seems wise at this juncture.
Since these could be my last moments on Earth (Bayaden does look like he wants to send me out with the sewage), I decide to have fun with the bath attendant girl. She’s naked like I am with a collar, but hers has no tag. She’s got nice, full breasts and big doe eyes, human of course. She’s pretty tiny too, no taller than below my nipples. I lean back in the white tub and smile my most charming Tristan smile. I’ve never been particularly attracted to women, I’m not particularly attracted to her now, but I do find her nice to look at and I will enjoy flirting with her.
I find out her name is Bethane and she is from Port Tyreadin, but that’s all she’ll tell me. “Bethane from Port Tyreadin,” I recite as she scrubs the dirt from my hair.
The hot water soothes my aching behind, and I wish I could be left to sit here to ferment and stay away from the dark Elf watching my every move. For the Gods’ sake, it’s not like I’m planning on running. Where would I go? I’d be caught in a second. No. Better to build trust and complacency and then attempt a true escape—right after I figure out how to get Diekin out of here.
I reach to her sandy blonde hair when she leans over to scrub my chest and twirl it around my finger. I don’t know how to hit on a guy, with a woman I’m even more useless, but I’ve seen Lucca do something similar and it seemed to work for him. “You’re very beautiful,” I tell her.
I hear the sound of something breaking over where Bayaden is sitting, but I don’t look up too interested in watching Bethane’s blue eyes. “When you are finished with him, send him to my chambers—but scrub him good, I don’t want to see a speck of dirt on him,” he interrupts making me sound like I’m a child that’s been rolling in the mud. “I’m in need of his services.”
“Y-yes, m’Lord.”
“Yes, be sure to wash behind my ears for fleas as well,” I say to her, but look at Bayaden. He smolders at me for a second but whirls off like a blustery day. Bethane, giggles.
“What?”
“You like the Warlord.”
“Like him? No. I’m married. And even if I wasn’t, I would still hate that Elf.”
"Then why are you flirting with him?”
"I wasn't flirting with him; I was flirting with you."
“Okay.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Okay.”
She keeps saying okay, but I know she doesn’t believe me, so I shut up and stop flirting with her, hoping she’ll just wash me so I can get out of here.
But my day suddenly brightens when I see the thin, khaki pants slung over another bath, abandoned by their owner momentarily. I’m sure they have another pair; I don't feel bad stealing them. Huh. I’ve spent all this time looking for clothes when all I had to do was come to the bathhouse.
Bethane, who I now realize has loyalty to these maniac-elven-slave-traders, smirks but won't dare challenge me. I still hold some level of respect with her because of my former title. I often went to Port Tyreadin with Father.
The material feels scratchy, having been naked for so many days. My body has to remember what it's like to be encumbered with every step. I think about going off to do some more exploring, but even I can respect that the Aldrien Warlord is out of leniency with his unruly pet. I guess it’s back to his chambers then.

~**~

When I appear in his chambers, he's staring out the window or I thought he was, but as soon as I'm in the door I'm being held by my throat. The thick black collar is removed, and his teeth sink viciously into my neck. I cry out until he cups his hand over my mouth. I want to scream more, which is quite unlike me, also illogical. No one will save me or care. Even the humans of this place have some kind of deranged loyalty to their masters.
I cease my cries and submit to him opening my neck. It's natural, like breathing. I can't pretend to resist this man’s dominance. The suctioning grip of his teeth releases with a squishy sound, taking some of the skin of my neck with them; the holes that are left behind gush blood. He pulls his face away half an inch and I see the same burning in his eyes as when he'd detained me in the village, only now, it's laced with pure desire—he wants me. I can hardly believe it, but he does—the pain of it etched clear on his beautiful face.
He hates it, hates that he wants me. I’m the flea-ridden human that has been thrust into his life, and he somehow feels obligated to ensure my survival. He demands something of me in Elvish, I don't know what, so I don't respond. "Undress, I wish to view you," he says in Markaytian, frustrated with my lack of knowledge of his language. He looks over the pants I said I'd get. I smile at the small victory, and I swear I see him crack a half-smile, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
As for him viewing me, he's had plenty view of me already. Besides, I don't want him to see what his manhandling of me has sprouted, he'll get the wrong idea. "Forget it, Bayaden." I try to push past him to my bed. I want to forget this day ever happened and all the days to come till I'm back with my husband.
Bayaden's not going to let me. Like the insatiable calling of the crow, echoing in your brain forever—I know in that moment I'll always remember Bayaden.
"Take them off or I'll rip them off."
"Damn it Bayaden!"
"Now," he says in Elvish, I recognize.
I'm furious, but I do as I’m instructed. I don't intend on putting my new pants anywhere near him, but he snatches them from me. Stupid, agile Elves. "You said I could have pants if I acquired them myself." I full-on pout at him.
He tosses the pants away; he doesn’t care about them, more interested in my hardening cock. "See, you desire me."
"I am a male Bayaden, it has nothing to do with you," I lie. I hate myself and I hate him more. I'm married and I still want him. Badly. I like what he’s doing to me, even as the blood runs down my neck. By the Gods, I've never felt like this. My heart is still thumping in my chest, it does that for him—races without rhythm, about Bayaden. It feels like the height of battle.
We both stand breathing, facing off. I'm naked again, my hard cock throbs, I’m sore, bruised, bleeding, but he is the vulnerable one and we can both feel it in the air: he's about to lose something.
"I want you to suck me," he says.
I knew this would come, not only is it common to fuck the spoils of war—well unless you are Markaytian—Andothair had mentioned this. But I thought I would be made to do this, tied down and fucked. I didn't expect how I'm feeling now.
I want to suck his cock.
I'd like to say that I'm only thinking of Diekin's life, because in some small measure I am, but mostly, I want him. "I'm going to bed."
He grabs me by the face. "You are mine." He’s fucking breathless.
"I am not yours. I belong to Corrik."
And thereHe does not like that. He drags me and unless I want my head detached from my body I have to follow. He throws me on the bed, not my bed, but his. I freeze. Bayaden isn't Bayaden right now, he's something else. ‘The Elves are creatures; they are of a different breed than us Markaytians,’ my uncle had said.
And they are.
I’ve made the mistake of thinking about Elves as human even though I know they aren’t. It’s hard not to. In many ways they resemble humans and so we humans anthropomorphize them. But inside they are wired differently, and it took being with Corrik to see that. Arousal possesses them and they turn animal. When that happens, it’s need and it has to be satisfied, there’s almost no stopping the tumble of passion at that point.
He cages me with his arms planted on either side of me and sniffs up my body slowly, inhaling my scent. When he reaches my neck, he licks his thick tongue across the blood still seeping in tiny rivulets from where he bit me. The holes seem to patch themselves over, he nuzzles his nose across the mark I can feel there and I sense he wants to bite it again—he knows he can't without killing me. As it is, I could have bled out, but he’s bit just shallow enough. "That's funny, you smell like you’re mine."
I can’t breathe. There's something frighteningly vicious about Bayaden everyone senses, especially me, but he's got a sarcastic humor that's hard to spot when you're busy being terrified, and when you finally do, it's soothing—you know he's not going to murder you, he just likes you to think he’s going to murder you.
Besides, danger turns me on. Bayaden is the perfect mix of deadly and hilarious. Ugh. I have a type.
I sigh relief. He's not going to gut me, but he may still fuck me. I might prefer the first. His fingers trail over my body like he's trying to figure out if I'm real or just an apparition. His eyes darken, and his mouth latches onto mine. It's not a kiss, he's trying to suck the tongue from my mouth.
My body bends with his. Bayaden is a force that cannot be denied and tonight I won't deny him. I know I've got to do this, but it’s not just ‘got to’, I want this … I need this and so I continue to let him. I wish I would have tried to say no a few more times, but I want him too badly. The Gods help me, I want him.
Elves are promiscuous creatures, but Corrik’s shown what a possessive arse he is, many times he’s expressed how much he wants me all to himself. But is he really the monogamous sort problem or will he see this as betrayal?
The resentment surfaces.
I was forced into the marriage. Taken from my home. My identity ripped away. I dreamed of the day I would become Warlord upon Father’s retirement, I earned my place as his successor, but Corrik didn’t care about that. Nobody did.
Honestly, I wasn’t called a slave as I am now, but I would have been one all the same. Now I have nothing. I’ve been reduced to a slave and there’s a something I want before me—something I genuinely want with no one to take it away from me. I didn’t get to want anyone other than Corrik in order to save my virginity for him, I wasn’t going to get to choose anything once we returned to Mortouge; Corrik would have dictated what my life would be.
Oddly, I wasn’t called a slave as I am now, but I would have been one all the same.
I hate Bayaden and I want him. I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of this.
One thing that’s certain about me and Bayaden, is that we have chemistry, and more than one person has noticed. I’ve been trying to deny it, but there is no more denying it. I attempt to kiss him back, but he doesn't let me and moves down from my lips to my swollen neck, gentle there, then attacks my chest and torso with bites that hurt, but don't break the skin. When he reaches my throbbing cock, I'm already gone, gone, gone.
“I did not expect you to taste so good, Tristan.”
He called me, Tristan.
I don’t get to think about that for long, he’s on me again, prowling on top of me, and I push my aching cock toward him. “If you’re going to fuck me, just do it already.” The waiting is torture.
“Is that what all this poor behavior is? You just needed a good fucking? Will that inspire better behavior, little human?”
“Unfortunately for you, I doubt it.” I smirk at him.
I expect anger at a remark like that, but he’s wrapped up in some sort of spell. “I know the Gods are taunting me, but I must have you Tristan.”
“Then do it.”