Carnal Dreams

CARNAL DREAMS

…His vest flashed past, revealing his muscled abdomen. She heard a rip as her own clothes gave way to his strength. Locked in an embrace, they rolled across the narrow strip of grass and landed on their sides in the fragrant bed of lemon mint and basil edged with spicy sweet William. His mouth fastened on her nipple and sucked. His busy hands found her erotic places—not only her pussy, but also the shivery places behind her knees and the dimple at the base of her spine. One of his fingers, moistened in her own woman’s dew, teased her swollen clit—sliding over and around the throbbing love knot. The other slipped down the crack between her butt cheeks. Wildly, she scrabbled at his broad back with her fingernails—deep in desire and blinded by need. The scent of his moist male skin filled her nostrils. Rearing her head back, she bit his side under one arm. He growled and plunged two fingers into her slit and partway out. His other hand reached between her legs from behind, dampening his fingers in her natural lubricant. “Ever been finger-fucked in your ass?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone, pressing against her butt hole. “N…no, but I want everything, everything…” “Good. It’s your first time, so I’ll use my smallest finger.” His hand slid back and forth across the tight opening.

Nerve endings came alert in a shimmer of waiting. At the same time, his fingers between her labia twisted. She caught her breath. The heavy, hot tension expanded through her nerves…

ALSO BY APRIL R EID April’s Aphrodisiac Beneath Traber Skies Dark Passion Deadly Desires Desert Passion The Dragon’s Choice Sidhe Warrior The Sultan’s Revenge Test Of Truth

CARNAL DREAMS BY APRIL REID

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

CARNAL DREAMS AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2007 by Barbara Clark ISBN 978-1-60272-175-3 Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Thanks to the ladies at the Sunshine Books bookstore in Cypress, California.

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CHAPTER 1 The drums of Ostara—the great Festival of Fertility— throbbed in the pale light of the twin full moons and echoed in the heartbeat of every male and female dancer poised within the sacred circle of the Moon Goddess. Day and night were balanced—equal at this one point of the vernal equinox—and all life on Traber renewed itself. Tonight they would dance for the fertility of the land. Tonight they would dance for the blessings of the Goddess and consort. Tonight lovers would lay skin to skin—male planting and female receiving his seed into her body and nourishing the new life to be born in Avalonia, the land of shapeshifters and 1

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magic. Ashlyn Marie Toscano, eldest daughter of High Wizard Galatyn, stood as part of the circle. Unlike the other dancers, she had no magic or shifter ability. Only her father’s status as a member of the Circle of Seven—advisors to the king— granted her a place in the ceremony. All her life, she’d suffered the disgrace of being ungifted. Instead of growing bitter, she’d bonded with her fairy-dragon, Pepper, at a time when the young dragon had needed special care, and had consequently become caring, thoughtful, and willing to fight for loved ones and friends. Tonight, Ashlyn’s status didn’t matter to her, only her place in the celebration of Ostara to honor the Great Goddess and Her chosen consort. Ashlyn brushed an errant strand of pale blond hair from her cheek and inhaled the erotic fragrance of the dreamflower lei around her neck. Already, the stirring beat of the drums had set the blood racing in her body, while the sweet-and-musk scent of the lei had made her thighs clench and her breasts swell. She watched in awe as the consort-surrogate—who’d defeated all other contenders for this position—strode to the center of the circle. Like all the male dancers, he wore a lei of green and silver dreamflower leaves and a white lava-lava wrapped around his strong thighs. He led his chosen mate to the white-and-gold bed placed over the golden moon in the middle of the pure white marble floor. There, by the ceremony’s end, they’d perform a banquet 2

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of sex acts to honor the Great Goddess and consort. Turning in unison, the goddess-blessed pair magically set fire to the ring of white tapers rimming the sacred circle. The drums had invoked the energy and power of the land. Now they were joined by the passionate music of viola-guitars and the pure, sweet notes of flute, bells, and chimes. The time had come for the forceful, purifying, life-giving power of sexual energy to join with the land. Standing beside the bed of power, the man slowly unwrapped the woman’s white-and-gold sarong and then stripped away his own garment, baring their bodies to the moonlight and to each other’s gaze. That was the signal for all dancers to unwrap their own garments and allow them to fall to the ground. A moist ocean breeze caressed Ashlyn’s skin and plucked at the seductive lei perfuming her sensitized breasts. On the clear, swelling sounds of harp and guitar—sacred instruments of fire—the consort-surrogate swept up his chosen mate and laid her on the bed. He joined her there—skin to skin—his great, full cock sliding deep into her slit as the dancers began their sensuous, erotic moves of praise and supplication to the Great Goddess. Would the Goddess on this sacred night grant Ashlyn her greatest desire—the hunger for a man who accepted and loved her for herself? *

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*

Later that night, back home in the privacy of her bedroom, 3

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Ashlyn still trembled with unsatisfied sexual need. Stripping off the clothes she’d quickly donned after the ceremony, she shrugged into a light sleep shift and climbed into her lonely bed. She lay on her back in the cool dark and, eyes closed, played with her own nipples—squeezing and tugging them as she drew a mental picture of her mysterious lover touching them, drawing them into his hot mouth. Again and again she pulled and stroked through the exciting rasp of fine kut’n. Her heart raced. A tight sensation coiled behind her pussy. Bunching up the hem of her night tunic, she tucked it up to her waist, rolled onto her side, and curled up enough to finger her outer labia, slick with her warm juices. As she pictured her secret lover touching and stroking her swollen, sensitive vagina, she squeezed her upper thighs together; pressing and releasing—pressing and releasing her fingers against her slit while her breath came hard, and she turned her face into the pillow to muffle her moans of desire. Even as she lay panting afterward, it hadn’t been enough to more than dampen her erotic hunger. Would her carnal dreams come to fill that hunger? *

*

*

She flew through the night of stars, wrapped in the warm embrace of her dream lover. The air surrounding them was cold, but heat from his great body warmed her. She couldn’t see his face. His breath flowed over her, mingling with hers. Each breath she inhaled brought their 4

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union closer and each breath she exhaled became part of him. With each inhale-exhale, her skin grew more sensitive, her breasts swelled—the nipples pressing into his golden skin and the sense of fullness coiled low in her body between her thighs. As Qamar and Zurir rose above them, the stars grew pale, and the silver bands of moonlight intensified her sensual hunger for her lover. “Sweet Ashlyn,” he murmured in a voice filled with carnal delights, “are you ready to ride the moon-paths to the world turning far below?” “Yes.” She could barely form the words in her need to experience another level in making love. The next moment she lay on a silky cover spread over an incredibly soft sleeping pallet. Bracing his elbows on either side of her body, her lover cradled her face between his strong fingers and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “More,” she said in a low voice as she reached down and cupped his thick, warm cock. “My pleasure,” he whispered on a ragged breath and pressed his bottom lip into her mouth. “Mmm.” Her lip vibrated against his. A flood of tender passion filled her heart. Boldly Ashlyn slipped her tongue along his lip, glorying in his low groan of arousal. His mouth shifted. He captured her upper lip between his teeth, then nibbled and sucked on it, while thrilling sensations flashed through her nerves from the top of her head to the 5

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tender flesh between her legs. Her clit throbbed and her woman’s honey flowed. “Lady of my desire”—his lips moved from her mouth to her throat—“I can feel your heart racing.” “Only for you,” she whispered. Her lover shifted. His tongue twined around her breasts— first one, then the other—dampening her full nipples to greater sensitivity. His nimble fingers played up and down her legs from knee to thigh—moving ever closer to her throbbing yoni. “Please.” She spread her legs apart, begging for his touch on her swollen, most sensitive feminine place… *

*

*

And a splash of cold water on her face brought her back to reality. “Get up, Ashy. Mom’s awake and expecting breakfast.” Drusilla Fern Toscano, Ashlyn’s younger half-sister, sat back on her heels and handed her older sister a small towel. “Jax has been teasing the fire salamander again and it’s sulking. It refuses to kindle fire in the kitchen stove, and if I do its job, it’ll lodge a complaint against our household with King Maldoc and the council of seven.” As Ashlyn tucked away this latest dream to join the others in her memory waiting to be taken out and examined later, she pushed back the thin cover, sat up and dried her face. “I’ll be glad when classes start and Jax will go back to his magic lessons on Apprentice Island.” 6

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“You and me both,” Druzy said companionably. “I love our little brother, but he can be a pain when he’s bored.” “That’s true, but does he have to start so early?” While Druzy chuckled, Ashlyn gazed out the open window at the first pale blush of dawn, savoring the last minutes of peace before a busy day. As she had the last few days, she looked toward the north and felt the growing connection to her dream lover, as if he lived in those unseen, forbidden lands. Hiding the momentary lapse of attention from Drusilla, Ashlyn said, “It’s a good sign that Lady Evelina is hungry this early.” “Yes. Sounds like her morning sickness is over.” Druzy gestured for the oil lamp to light. “I’ve left a basin of warm water for you and I’ll carry another one to Mother. See you in a few minutes.” Ashlyn’s teenaged sister closed the sliding screen behind her, hurrying away to placate the dutifully pregnant second wife of High Wizard Galatyn Priam Toscano—Ashlyn and Drusilla’s father. As she washed and dressed, Ashlyn gazed out the window at the kuku’i nut trees, palm trees, ferns, and sweet flowers blossoming in anticipation of the coming sun. But her thoughts replayed the lifelike dreams—for the last month—of the golden lover who’d held her so tenderly in his strength and pleasured her with a single-minded intensity that said she was the only woman in his world. Her lover didn’t sigh and ask why the daughter of a high wizard and sorceress didn’t have the ability to ride the winds 7

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or call lightning or shapeshift. Why did she—descended from generations of men and women imbued with high magic— have none? She couldn’t even call fire—the most simple of spells. Even as she left her room to start the daily chores, thoughts of her dream lover and his touch lingered in her mind and in her sensitive, swollen breasts and beaded nipples. *

*

*

Basil Greenstorm d’Vortimer, dragon shapeshifter and king’s warrior, stepped out onto the south balcony of his brother’s home in the first rays of morning sunlight. His cock was heavy and halfway erect. His body still vibrated from the vivid dreams of the remarkable woman who had captured his heart before they’d even met. For the past month, including the last three nights while he’d visited here to celebrate the birth of Rion and Shimmara’s first child, the dreams had grown progressively more sensual. Last night, the silent call from the south had become urgent. The sound of a footstep drew his attention to the door behind him. Automatically, he gripped the knife tucked in its belt sheath before he realized the sound was deliberate, as a courtesy to him. Still he had to tease his older brother. “What? Has soft-step Rion lost his ability to move more quietly than a summer breeze?” “Brat,” Rion said mildly. “You’ve been so distracted the 8

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last three mornings, I thought I’d better warn you before you knifed me in the gut and said, ‘Sorry,’ afterward.” “Who said I’d apologize?” Basil grinned at his dragonshifter brother. “Your sense of justice would compel you to confess.” The compassion in Rion’s eyes invited Basil to share his problem. “Are you speaking as the king’s advisor or head of the family?” Rion closed the short distance between them and gripped Basil’s shoulder. “Family first. I’m inviting you, as your brother, to tell me what troubles you so I can offer help; not that I expect you to take it unless you agree. You may be my younger brother in years, but you’re a man, fully grown in power and intelligence.” “It’s a woman.” “Since when has any woman presented you with a problem?” Rion leaned against the balcony with a companionable smile. “Bless their hearts. They mean well, but it will take a truly special woman to hold your attention and affection—not that you’d mistreat any.” “She is special.” Basil scrubbed his face with both hands. “I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s the most loving, giving, seductive woman I’ve ever made love with.” “Sounds like you’re smitten.” Rion frowned. “Don’t take offense, but are you sure she hasn’t be-spelled you?” “How could she?” Basil growled in frustration. The time of his must was growing near and he fought his primitive need to shift to dragon form and take a mate. “We’ve never met 9

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face to face, but only in dreams.” *

*

*

Ashlyn hurried down the long corridor toward the kitchen. The servant staff had already opened the shutters to the day and the air smelled of sandalwood, frangipani blossoms, and damp soil. She looked out the north-side window, past the grove of coconut palms to the many shades of blue water in Caledon Bay. Already the fisher-folk skimmed across the swells in their light outrigger boats, hunting the daily catch. She made a mental note to tell Tanna, the cook, to add fresh-caught silversides to the evening menu. Instead of moving on, she was caught up in a vision of a foreign land that replaced the familiar scene. She stood on a wood and stone platform—no—a balcony made of wood, with a waist-high stone wall to guard the outer edges. The breeze lifting her hair had a coolness that spoke of snow-capped mountains—not the warm, flower-scented breezes of New Caledon. Grass, sprinkled with wild flowers and a few flame trees, rolled down a gentle slope to a valley set with tidy farms. A river flowed from a distant mountain range and meandered through the valley. Then the brush of wings snapped her back to her home. Pepper, Ashlyn’s fairy-dragon, settled on her shoulder and lovingly rubbed the side of its gold and pale-blue muzzle on her cheek. ::You dream of distant lands and it makes you sad:: The fairy-dragon’s mental voice held a gentle compassion. 10

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::Not exactly sad—more like the land was as familiar to me as our home garden, but I sensed I might leave Avalonia and go there, perhaps never to return.:: At that moment, a flash of bright color and motion caught her attention. Shaking off her sadness, Ashlyn watched a red fox with a white tip on its tail trot toward the open garden gate. ::Pepper, catch Jax and tell him to present himself at the kitchen door in five minutes—in human form and suitably clothed to show respect to Tanna. If he hesitates, remind him I know who sent a plague of rat-toads to High Wizard Zenos’ name day party for his grandson.:: Pepper leaped into the air and hovered in front of Ashlyn’s face. ::If your younger brother doesn’t stop, I’ll catch him by the tail.:: Hiding her smile, she said out loud, “Do it gently.” *

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The sight that met Ashlyn’s eyes when she entered the kitchen made her sigh in annoyance. Jax had to learn to curb his teasing before he did real damage. Tanna, her generous frame covered by a white apron over one of her many colorful muumuus, stood with her arms folded, glaring at the fire salamander. “That rapscallion, Jax, conjured up a rainstorm right over Sizzoff just as he was about to kindle the fire in the cook stove. Now our fire salamander refuses to do its job and High Mage Toscano has called for his breakfast.” While Tanna explained what happened, Mary, the kitchen 11

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drudge, mopped up the last of the miniature shower Jax had raised in the kitchen. The fire salamander sulked in its insulated dome-roofed brick-and-tile sleep box. Only his muzzle and the front part of his flickering crest was visible. Not a good sign. Even his color was a muddy orange, not the bright red and fiery yellow he usually displayed. Mary gathered up her mop rags, wiggled her fingers in a small drying spell to complete the job, and smiled at Ashlyn. “All done, marama,” she said using “lady,” the term of respect. Ashlyn nodded her thanks and turned her attention to the problem. Crouching in front of the sleep box, she said coaxingly, “Fire Master Sizzoff, Jax was wrong to call rain indoors, but you could easily change that into a lovely steam bath. What great problem has made you choose to not perform your duties?” ::The young Jax Toscano hasss violated the sssupreme law of proper magical behavior—‘harm none.’:: The fire salamander stabbed one front claw in her direction to emphasize his words. ::He delayed me in ssserving the housssehold and harmed my reputation. I should report him to the king and the Ccccircle of Ssseven for high crimesss.:: Not good, Ashlyn thought. Their father was a member of the Circle of Seven, advisors to the king. Charges against a member of his family would cause him to lose face unless he did something drastic, even strip away the person’s magical 12

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abilities and condemn him to a lingering death bound to the rocks of Dragon Claw Point. Ashlyn dipped her head to Sizzoff in acknowledgement of his words while she scrambled for a way to soothe the fire salamander and save her brother. “Fire Master, please find the compassion in your heart to grant forgiveness to the foolish stripling. Only a few days remain of his vacation before he returns to Apprentice Island for more instruction in properly using his magical gifts.” As if on cue, Jax appeared in the doorway fully clothed and looking chastened. Ashlyn doubted the sincerity of the expression because he’d used it other times to wiggle out of trouble. Mentally she sighed as her young brother stepped into the kitchen and bowed first to Tanna, then to Sizzoff. “Please accept my apologies, Master Chef and Fire Master. I’m sorry my childish prank caused you distress.” The chief cook had always shown a soft spot in her heart for the younger children of the family compound. A smile flickered across her lips before she assumed a stern expression. “Your prank has caused turmoil. A wizard of Avalonia must at all times practice self-discipline.” Sizzoff slipped halfway out of his sleep box, as his color changed to a more normal orange and red. His crest still flickered. He stared at Jax and shook one claw. ::The young male is deaf to mind speech. Ask him what guarantee he givesss that he will not teasssse me again.:: Ashlyn relayed the question to her brother. 13

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He rubbed his nose with the back of one hand and stared down at his woven grass sandals as if he’d find the answer at his feet. “I dunno—maybe promise to never tease you again.” The fire salamander paced back and forth in front of his sleep box, then stopped in front of Jax. He looked at Ashlyn. ::Tell this sssson of High Wizzzzard Galatyn Priam Tosssscano I will accept his promise one more time. If he breakssss it, I will follow through with my threat and report thissss household to my guild and to the Ccccircle of Sssseven.:: When she conveyed the message to Jax, his shoulders slumped. He bowed to everyone in the kitchen, even Mary— which made her giggle—and wandered out the door to the garden. The fire salamander scuttled up the slanting ramp to the stove and started a robust flame under the cooktop and side oven. While Tanna busied herself with breakfast preparations, Ashlyn pulled a chunk of amber out of her belt pouch and offered it to Sizzoff. ::Fire Master, please accept this sweet burning firestone as token of thanks.:: The salamander twined around her ankles three times in thanks, then went back to its sleep box with the amber carried gently between its teeth. *

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The summons from her father caught Ashlyn in the middle of discussing the need for more raw minerals for her father’s 14

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spell-making and the purchase of new sheets and towels for the household with the housekeeper. After a quick check in the mirror to tidy her hair, she hurried to her father’s office. When she stepped inside and saw her mother, Carrissa, and the very pregnant second wife, Evelina, seated on either side of him, Ashlyn knew something important was about to happen, but what? “Come in, first daughter Ashlyn,” her father said. “We have good news for you.” As she crossed the thick dark blue, red, and old gold rug covering the polished wood floor, Ashlyn ventured a quick glance at her mother, but was met by a carefully blank expression. Not good. Her mother didn’t approve of what was happening, but wouldn’t go against her husband. A glance at Evelina showed the wisp of a satisfied smile. Really not good. Her father’s personal secretary placed a chair facing the three spouses and then left the room. Ashlyn’s mouth went dry. Oliver’s absence meant the discussion would be family business only. Worried, she searched her recent activities for anything her father might consider wrong. Surely he didn’t know about her carnal dreams? Her father motioned to the chair. “Sit, sit, my daughter,” he said in a genial tone. “We have news of great import that will change your life forever.” “You’ve arranged more lessons in magic for me?” He frowned. “How would that help? High Wizard Zenos 15

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has declared you devoid of any magical ability.” “Was that after my failed attempt to call fire last year? The session ended when an unexpected rainstorm flooded the fire pit.” Her mother cleared her throat. “Ashlyn, after you gave your virginity to the Pan-surrogate last year on Beltane Night and it didn’t open your body to magic, we accepted your lack of magical and shapeshifting abilities. On the other hand, you have valuable skills as a chatelaine to make a comfortable home.” “In spite of other drawbacks, you’re bonded with a fairydragon,” her father added. Evelina rubbed her swollen abdomen. “While you are magic-blind and shifter-dumb, you carry the high magic heritage which, with the right man, you can pass on to your children.” Ashlyn had a quick vision of her dream lover laying with her—slowly pushing his thick, pulsing cock into her damp, hungry sheath. She blushed and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, to hide her expression. Had he somehow contacted her father? Her father nodded. “I see you understand we’ve had an offer of marriage for you.” “Marriage?” She looked up, her heart flooding with anticipation. “It’s an unexpected and great honor,” her mother said. “He only offered because of your father and mother’s impeccable lineage,” Evelina said, with a sour expression. 16

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“That and your ability to supervise the smooth running of his household.” “Smooth running of his household?” Ashlyn wondered if her dream lover lived in New Caledon. “You’ll be his third wife, with the responsibility of making the castle compound a home, my dear daughter, but King Maldoc is interested in more than your chatelaine skills,” her mother hastened to add. “He was the Pan-surrogate who called you to him in the fertility ceremony and tried to open your mind and body to magic. He knows you have a sweet, firm body.” “King Maldoc?” Ashlyn went cold and nausea burned in her throat. “He hurt me—raped me,” she blurted out. “The dirty old goatasaur rutted on me like I was the lowest whore in the bathhouse.” Her father surged to his feet, his face red with anger. “Ashlyn Marie Toscano, your treasonous words bring shame to our household. The fact only we three have heard them saves you from death by exposure bound to the rocks of Dragon’s Claw point.” In two paces he stood over her with his projective hand raised. Coils of deadly lightning danced from each finger. “You will wed King Maldoc in one month on the night of the Grass Moons or die by my own hand.”

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CHAPTER 2 As the pale blush of dawn gave way to the sun rising from beyond the great ocean, Basil saw the first signs of land since he’d left the north continent the previous day. Clouds piled high in the sky over the top of a volcano far to the east. He dropped lower and the prevailing winds from the west threatened to blow him off course. Gods help him, he had to land on solid ground soon or tumble into the ocean. Below him, the ocean swells deepened and lifted higher. Foam spewed from the crests and blew away on the winds. His body ached with exhaustion. Even the negligible weight of the pack on his back had grown heavy. With each 18

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tired down-stroke, his wing muscles protested. In spite of his bone weariness, he’d pressed on through the endless hours, driven by the surety his dream lady needed his help— desperately. His dragon-enhanced vision saw the faint lines of rippling air stretched from water to sky a short distance from the coast. Too late his tired brain recognized the danger of the magical barrier. He angled his wings in a frantic effort to sweep down and away. One tip brushed the barrier. A jolt flashed through him. That wing fell to his side, numb. Fighting to stay airborne, he changed the angle of his other wing’s sweep too late to avoid the deadly barrier. The stink of scorched hide—his flesh— mixed with pain, and he tumbled helplessly toward the churning ocean. Normally his great wings, unfurled, would help him float. Now, hanging limp and unresponsive, they’d drag him into the watery depths. To survive, he had to shift into human form before he lost consciousness. Those thoughts flashed through his mind even as he plunged into the angry swells. Paddling hard with clawed back and front feet to stay on the surface, he reached into the depths of his mind and initiated the change. The first few prickles played through his mind and across his hide. With the same force of will that had carried him through starvation and the raging thirst of his vision quest at the age of twelve, he clung to consciousness until his body registered the wash of churning liquid on 19

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sensitive human flesh. By instinct, he looped the strap of his pack over one shoulder, dove deep under the barrier, fought to the surface long enough for a gasp of air, and then sank into watery oblivion. *

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Ashlyn directed her mare, Moonstone, down the curving trail through the North Coast foothills to Shelter Cove. Her packhorse, the sorrel gelding, Foxfire, followed on its leadline. The constant west winds snatched at her cloak and rippled the loose kut’n pants and tunic she wore. At a point where the trail widened into a level bench, she brought her mare and the gelding to a halt, giving them a chance to rest before traveling down the final steep, rocky way to their destination for this first night. Pepper and Hawthorne landed on a convenient boulder nearby. She slipped out of the saddle, dropped the reins to ground tie the mare, and smiled at her forever friend, Pepper, and the female fairy-dragon’s mate, Hawthorne. “We all needed a break. It’s been a long trip from home. Shelter Cove is only the first stop to replenish father’s list of raw, unaltered minerals for his laboratory.” Pepper flipped her pale gold with blue-flecked wings, then smoothed them at her side. ::You needed peace and quiet away from the endless twittering of the Toscano maramas.:: “You can say that again. Mother and Marama Evelina are 20

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deep in making elaborate plans for my coming marriage to King Maldoc.” She shuddered at the idea, and Pepper crooned gentle reassurance. Nodding her thanks, Ashlyn continued. “They flutter and preen because a member of their household will become the rare third wife—a privilege granted only to the king.” She closed one hand into a fist. “I have to find a way out of this cursed marriage. The Bright Goddess knows I don’t want my family to suffer for my decision, but I…” Pepper said, ::You can’t bear the idea of Maldoc’s hands on your body.:: “Exactly.” On the other hand, if it were her dream-lover, she mused as she swung into the saddle to continue their journey. Her thoughts scattered when she saw the nude body of a human male sprawled facedown on the sand at the edge of the water. High tide was coming in. Great sets of breakers piled wave upon wave with a steady roar. Already the last foam of breaking waves washed over his feet and legs. If he were alive, but unconscious, he’d die when the tide was in enough deep for waves to float his body and drag him back to the sea to drown. She sent Pepper and her fairy-dragon mate, Hawthorne, ahead to check on the man, then she hurried to reach him. Even as she urged Moonstone down the trail as quickly as was safe for the mare and gelding, Ashlyn wondered how the stranger had breached the magical barrier protecting the island nation. Had a mage opened the way the same as was done for 21

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the handful of carefully controlled outlander traders or for the fisher-folk who harvested the deep-water seafood? Her gaze swept the curving coastline as far as she could see, but no boat wreckage or the bright robes and tent of a mage appeared. While these thoughts passed through her mind, Moonstone had reached the smooth stretch of black sand where her hooves made deep, dragging depressions in the dry sand. Pepper mentally called, ::He’s alive. Hurry.:: To save her mare from injuring herself in the unsteady footing, Ashlyn slipped off Moonstone’s back, dropped her cloak, and slogged across the beach as rapidly as possible. Hawthorne, his great black-and-gold wings spread wide on guard, nosed the body. ::He smells of shapeshifting,:: he mentally said, his thoughts colored by suspicion, as Ashlyn knelt in the wet sand beside the stranger. “So does nearly everyone else in Avalonia, but I appreciate the warning.” With the two fairy-dragons hovering over her shoulder, she managed to turn him over. Even that didn’t rouse him, but his well-muscled chest rose and fell with each breath. Involuntarily, her gaze traveled down the length of his powerful, bronzed body to the cock nestled in springy hair. Her heart jolted as a sense of recognition stirred in her mind. Impossible. It couldn’t be her dream lover, but—compelled by an inchoate need, she touched her lips to his firm, generous mouth. At the first brush, a hungry warmth danced through her blood, as if her body already recognized what her mind yet 22

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didn’t. Incoming waves broke closer to where she knelt over the stranger and raced higher up the sloping beach. No time to wonder about her reaction. Salty water splashed across her and poured over his body, lifting it from the sand. Time was running out. She gripped him under his arms and began dragging him backward, farther up onto the shore. When the water rolled back to sea, his solid body was much heavier without the liquid support. Digging her feet into the sand, she tugged on him, sliding in the deep grains with every step. His heavy body plowed furrows in the fine-grained sand, and she couldn’t move him more than a few inches before another flood of water tried to reclaim him. They were still in the danger zone. The two fairy-dragons could help if they had something other than the man’s hair or flesh for them to grip. She whipped off her tunic, spread it beside him with enough space between him and the fabric to roll him over onto the garment. Just as she had him settled, another, more powerful wave drenched them, stinging her skin and bare breasts. ::Pepper, Hawthorne, help.:: Grasping the bright fabric under his armpits, she repeated the set-her-feet-and-dragbackward method. Both fairy-dragons swooped down and took a firm hold on the tunic—one on each side—adding the strength of their powerful wing strokes. Together, they slowly pulled him up 23

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the sloping beach. Just when she thought she couldn’t go any farther, Ashlyn and her mystery man reached safety above the highest reach of the tide in full flood. Native palm trees cast spears of shade across the sand. She settled him in the welcome shelter and collapsed to her knees, gasping. Her heart thudded in her chest. Pepper flew to Moonstone and returned with the cazleather strap of the canteen in her front claws. Using the knife she wore tucked in its sheath on her waist belt, Ashlyn slashed off one exposed sleeve of her tunic. Uncapping the canteen, she soaked and squeezed the fabric to wash away salt, then soaked it again and squeezed a few drops of liquid on the seam of his closed lips. “Wake up, outlander,” she murmured. “Drink so I can give you more.” Slowly, his lips parted and he licked away the drops. “That’s the way,” she crooned. Cradling his head in the crook of one arm, she dribbled more water into his mouth. Again she felt a stronger ripple of attraction, as if she should know him—had once lain in his embrace. Then the shock of his cool skin against her breast reminded her the warm winds could still chill his damp body. ::Pepper, Hawthorne, I need my herb pouch and cloak. Can you get them?:: ::Of course. The herb pouch first:: Pepper quickly retrieved the pouch, brought it to Ashlyn, then both fairy-dragons flew back to Moonstone and the fallen 24

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cloak. Still supporting the stranger’s head and shoulders on her lap, she located the small, carved-crystal bottle of quist wrapped in protective layers of kut’n, and cautiously opened the container of concentrated liquid. Just three drops, no more, she reminded herself as she once more cradled his head in her elbow. I want to revive him and temporarily prevent him from shapeshifting. Not kill him. Using great care, she dripped one dose of the thick, purple healing stimulant between his lips. She quickly followed with a small measure of water and watched him swallow in reflex, while she monitored the pulse point in his neck. Meanwhile, the fairy-dragons had carried the heavy garment back from where she’d dropped it, and draped the fabric across the torso and legs of the outlander. As the quist took effect, he sighed and turned his face toward her. His warm breath flowed across her damp breasts. Heat swarmed in her belly. If he had this affect on her while unconsciousness, what would his nearness do when he woke? As if in answer, his slack body tensed in her arms. His eyes opened and the world exploded. Moments later she lay on her back in the soft sand. The stranger straddled her hips without forcing her to bear the full weight of his body. His face hovered over her and he pinned her wrists to the ground above her head with his steely fingers. “Who are you?” he asked in a harsh, accented voice. “How many travel with you?” “T…two fairy-dragons and the horses,” she answered, 25

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wondering how the unconscious male had so quickly awakened and taken charge. “Who else? Surely a delectable female like you has personal guards and a lover or two to keep you safe.” “Just us.” Oh, Goddess, was he one of the men exiled from their homes for defying the Council of Seven and the king? Her stomach knotted. Did he know she was the eldest daughter of a council member? “Release me.” She struggled to pull away, but no matter how hard she tried, his grip remained the same. “I like a female with fire.” His head dipped down. He licked her nipples, then, still hovering over her breasts, gave her a dangerous smile. “Tastes salty, sweet, and female.” Her body clenched in desire. Her chest tightened and it became difficult to breathe—not from the weight of his body, but from awareness of her own needs. Ever since her rape by the Pan-surrogate, she’d been sickened by thoughts of any male rutting on her body—until her dream lover had invaded her sleep. For the first time, a real man’s body made her burn for his touch. But not just any man—this…this dangerous outlander made her body swell with wanting until she thought she’d burst. “I feel I know you, little one. What is your name?” “Ashlyn,” she whispered, her memory teased by the familiar timbre of his voice. He went very still, except for a quick intake of breath. “Ashlyn? My dream lady?” 26

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Then she knew and her heart leaped. “I’ve dreamed of you for many nights, but I don’t know your identity.” He tightened his grip on her wrists as if he’d never release her. “I am Basil Greenstorm d’Vortimer of Cymbria, and I’ve come for you.” His mouth came down on her lips, claiming her. His chest pressed against her breasts, bringing them to aching attention. The hard ridge of his cock tapped at her tender mound and the melting began between her thighs. He gently took her top lip between his teeth. Fire shot through her nerves and tingled down her body to the sensitive little nub she’d discovered in her own explorations. Passion exploded in her body. She squirmed to get closer. “Not yet,” he said in a low, intimate tone. “First I want to play with your pretty breasts.” Slipping down her body, he stretched out with his legs cradled between hers and half-turned so his thick, meaty cock pressed against the inside of her upper leg. It jerked and thrust while he cupped her breasts and nuzzled the soft valley in between. His strong, callused fingers moved in spirals around her areolas, skimming close but never touching the beaded tips. With each teasing glide, her nipples grew harder, hungrier to be pleasured. “Please,” she begged. “Please, what? This?” He flicked one super-sensitive tip, then the other, and she jolted at the edgy sensation. “Yes. More.” Arching her back, she raised her breasts higher to his lips and the stretching increased her pleasure. 27

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His hot mouth replaced his fingers—sucking at one tip and then the other—back and forth—tonguing each nipple in turn while the breeze cooled the other. Pressure gathered low in her body. More woman’s honey flowed between her legs. The scent of her own arousal—and his—drifted in the air. The heaviness coiled tighter and tighter. Almost blind with intense delight, she looked down at his mouth pleasuring her breasts and writhed in ecstasy at the erotic fires burning through her body. With an incoherent cry, she speared her fingers in his dark, thick hair—wanting him to stay and feast on her forever. Looking up her body, he gave her a slow smile filled with promise, while his busy fingers tugged and carefully pinched her hot tips. “We’re nearly there,” he said in a satisfied tone. Then he took one engorged nipple between his teeth and bit. The rush of ecstasy hit her like nothing she’d ever felt. She screamed, “Goddess, oh, Goddess—Basil—again!” “By the consort, yes!” He nipped her other breast. Light exploded behind her eyes. A sensual storm swept her up and plunged her back into paradise. Small shocks and quakes rippled through her internal muscles down to her yoni. Exquisite vibrations trembled through her whole being until she lay spent and panting. Rising to his knees, Basil took her limp hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Ashlyn?” She tried to speak, licked her lips, took a deep, shuddering breath, and murmured, “Wonderful.” 28

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He chuckled. “And that was only your breasts. I can hardly wait to show you more.” “Now?” she said hopefully. “Later.” He stood and offered her a hand. “Your mounts are growing restless.” “Oh, no. Moonstone. Foxfire.” She scrambled to her feet, ignoring his silent offer of help in her worry over the horses. One look at them waiting patiently reassured her they were in no immediate danger, but she chided herself for not at least leaving them in the shade. Then she recalled her first impulse had been to rescue the stranger before the ocean claimed him. A light sting in her breasts reminded her she was nude from the waist up. Instead of hurrying to cover herself, she felt desirable and proud in the presence of a man. She saw that same desire reflected in his gleaming greenand-gold eyes. He reached out and traced the curve of her breast with one finger, then dropped his hand to his side and stepped back. Just his brief touch set off another sensual explosion. Her knees grew weak. She desperately wanted to lie down at his feet and offer herself to him in every way. Then duty reminded her of the patient horses. Slowly—watching him lick his lips as he tracked her movements—she picked up her tunic, shook off most of the sand, and slipped the damp garment over her head. His thick cock jutting from its nest of dark hair told her how much he still wanted to take her. 29

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Once more she experienced her newfound feminine power. *

*

*

By late afternoon they had camp set up in one of the caves a short walk from a spring-fed pool. They’d bathed in the lower end where water flowed over the smooth edge into a narrow stream shaded by silvery soap plants and ferns. After changing into a bright lava-lava fastened above her breasts, she’d gathered pieces of precious amber washed up on the beach. While she worked, she was achingly aware of Basil Greenstorm d’Vortimer’s presence. His middle name, Greenstorm, described the way he affected her senses when he was near. Earlier, when they’d gone to get the mounts, Basil had spotted his pack tumbling in the waves near shore and retrieved it. He’d extracted a length of cloth and wrapped it lava-lava style around his lean waist. With quiet efficiency that told of his experience with horses, he’d helped her water and groom Moonstone and Foxfire and then picket them in a small, sun-dappled meadow, where they contentedly munched on lush grass and the tender leaves of low bushes. Ashlyn had been amazed at his quick recovery. Then she’d recalled shapeshifters had the ability to heal more quickly than those without the gift of shifting. At least she’d inherited the benefit to heal quickly, she mused, even if she couldn’t shift to another shape. 30

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Ignoring the familiar regret of being, as Marama Evelina had said, magic-blind and shifter-dumb, she turned back to what she did know—collecting and evaluating minerals and plants used for the esoteric spells of magic and more humble herbs for the body’s health. Her current task was to inspect and evaluate the raw amber she’d collected from the debris left by the ocean. While she sorted by size, clarity, and inclusions of insects or bits of leaves or other debris, Basil sat on his heels in front of his open pack, spreading items out on the stone cave floor. When he laid out a sword in its well-kept scabbard, Ashlyn caught her breath. Had she trusted him too soon? ::Pepper, Hawthorne…:: ::We see the weapon.:: Pepper, sun bathing at the cave entrance, rustled her wings in a flash of blue. ::Hawthorne and I will keep you safe.:: Apparently unaware of her sudden caution, Basil slid the sword from its protection and tipped it so the light slanting into the cave glimmered on the sharp blade. While he studied the weapon, Ashlyn closed her fingers around a large chunk of muddy-colored amber she’d relegated to the burn-for-incense-pile. Nervously she wondered why she had so easily dropped her guard. The makeshift weapon wasn’t heavy enough to do any damage to a warrior, but it might distract him long enough for her to use her small knife so she could make a run to the horses and get away. Slowly, hoping to escape his notice, she prepared to stand. No, she thought rebelling at the idea of abandoning 31

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everything to an outlander. Could she find a way to— “Ashlyn? Trouble?” He rose to his feet, sword in hand, with a swiftness that caught her off-guard. He rushed past her with a curt, “Stay back,” and stood between her and the entrance, scanning the outside area. He’s protecting me. The realization washed over her in a wave of relief. Tense minutes passed while he stood protectively between her and any danger—measured by her heartbeat and the growing knowledge that he’d had plenty of time throughout the day to wound, capture, or kill her. Finally he faced her. “What alarmed you?” Deciding on the truth, she said, “You,” and opened her hand to show him the would-be weapon. “How can I be sure you’re not one of the bandits roaming this isolated part of Avalonia?” “Bandits?” He prowled closer. “Your family allowed you to travel here unprotected?” “I’m not unprotected. I have my fairy-dragon and her mate.” “No magical spells?” “I’m magic-blind and shifter-dumb,” she blurted out, then silently cursed her unruly tongue. “Don’t undervalue yourself.” Basil settled on his heels beside her, set his sword to one side, and cupped her chin in his hand. “Your aura shines with latent abilities. You just have to find the key.” “The key?” she repeated, drawn by his vital power and 32

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understanding. “To unlock your self-doubts—like this.” He slowly lowered his mouth to hers giving her the chance to accept or reject his kiss. As if his careful restraint released her, she flung herself against him. “Help me find the key,” she begged. “Sweet Ashlyn,” he said in a low, passion-choked voice. “You give voice to my dreams.” Rising in one fluid motion, he lifted her into his arms and carried her deeper into the cave where they’d set two padded pallets on a cushioning base of fresh palm tree fronds. *

*

*

Basil stood Ashlyn on the cool cave floor beside the pallet, already burning with the fire that threatened to consume him if they didn’t make love again—and longer, deeper. His cock had swollen to full alert. He knew he had to slow down until her body was as ready as his. He bunched up the hem of her lava-lava and hummed in pleasure when he felt her warm, naked flesh. Gripping her lush ass with one hand, he rubbed his other fingers up and down the silky skin over her spine. She leaned into him, murmured his name, then kissed his throat, his jaw, and touched her warm tongue to his ear. “Take me. Make love,” she said in a low, sultry voice, “the way you did in our dreams.” “By the great consort, I promise.” Stripping off her lavalava, he dropped it on the rocky floor and settled her on the 33

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padding. In the pale light reflected from outside her eyes were deep blue pools of feminine mystery. Easing down on his knees beside her, his gaze drifted across her face and down her body. “I’m ready,” she said with an inviting smile, and cupped her breasts together, deepening the cleavage. His cock flexed painfully as his gaze lingered on the lush apricot color of her areolas and her ripe-berry nipples perfect for his hungry mouth. He’d sampled her breasts when they were salty from the ocean. Would they taste even sweeter after their earlier swim in the fresh water pool? His balls felt like lead—heavy—tugging at his groin. Sexual heat gripped him and sent sweat sliding down his spine. Leaning over her, he took one bright tip in his mouth and played with it—first flattening it against the roof of his mouth, then sucking on it. As he tasted and suckled at the sweet flesh, he felt her fingers grip his hair. He paused, let one nipple pop out of his mouth, and repeated his sexual play with the other. Tightening her grip on his head, she crooned his name over and over. Restlessly she shifted her legs, showing him her growing arousal. The spicy scent of her woman’s juices drew him to the source hidden behind the pale tangle of curls covering her mons. With one last kiss to each nipple, he moved down to lie flat on his stomach, half on the pallet, half off, and slid his hands 34

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up her legs until her thighs separated beneath his loving palms. “Basil? What are you doing?” From her reactions, he knew he was the first to ever touch her this intimately, and he nearly lost his resolve to go slowly. “More loving.” He bent and tasted her as if she were the most exquisite dessert. Her breath shattered on a sweet cry. He settled in for some serious tasting. Gently he pressed her outer lips together with the pads of his fingers. Then murmuring sounds of pleasure, he pressed his mouth against her female-spiced labia and brushed a soft, quivering kiss across the tender flesh. She made a soft, throaty sound. Her thighs quivered. Slowly, he lapped at the labia, listening to her broken breathing. “You taste wonderful—mmm,” he murmured to reassure her, then nudged her swollen petals apart and lightly circled the tender, sensitive flesh surrounding her fragrant slit. His balls grew harder with each passing moment. He reached down to adjust his cock, without losing his sensual rhythm. Her warm thighs shivered against him. She clutched at the pallet and spread her legs wider, offering him easier access. Heat and pressure gathered at the base of his spine. In the depths of his mind, the stirrings of dragon lust—the allpowerful must—began to unfold, and he clamped down on it—hard. This was the wrong time. Only a female dragon could meet him in dragon lovemaking. For now, he craved the fiery pleasure of making love with Ashlyn. 35

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Her swollen clitoris begged for his attention. He gave it a long, slow swipe, then circled the hot love knot with his tongue. *

*

*

Ashlyn found herself caught up in a storm of pleasure greater than she’d ever experienced. Then the quick, shimmering fires changed into the sharp, scorching flames of a greater arousal than she’d ever known. When she thought she could stand no more of the twisting, relentless tension, she asked him to stop the delicious torment, but he chuckled and slid long, talented fingers into her, stretching her while he once more sucked on her love knot. Suddenly she knew nothing else but an ecstasy so astonishing she would’ve screamed if she could’ve found her voice. He slid his dick into her throbbing slit at the height of her climax, driving her even higher—teaching her with every stroke of his hard, thick cock that she was truly a sensuous woman and making the pain and terror of rape by the Pansurrogate a dim memory. *

*

*

The sun had set while they’d made love. Only the light from a carbide lamp set on a nearby rocky shelf cast a small circle of illumination against the dark. Ashlyn stretched muscles filled with delicious memories of pleasure beyond any she’d ever known. She turned her head 36

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and gazed at Basil on the sleeping pad pulled up close to her. The pale light washed across the side of his face, but his eyes, nose, and mouth were deep in shadow. If only I could form a globe of light like my mother can to illuminate the cave. Ashlyn sighed at the impossible dream and rubbed her suddenly itchy palms on the cazwool blanket covering the pallet. The itch changed to sharp pain. She sat bolt upright, cupped her hands instinctively and studied her red and aching palms and fingers. “What’s wrong?” Basil rose and turned to her. “My hands…” Her voice trailed off as a soft glow gradually filled the curve of both of her cupped fingers and palms. “I…I can’t do this. I don’t know how to make globes of light,” she said in a choked voice. “I never have. I’m magicblind.” “Not anymore.” Leaning forward, Basil cradled her face between his hands, touching a kiss to her forehead. “You just found the key.”

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CHAPTER 3 Basil shifted in the saddle on Swiftfoot, the sturdy mountain-bred Barb he’d purchased two days earlier from a horse trader in Doryville using one of the gold dirhem royals he’d carried from Cymbria tucked in his duffle. This morning, they’d stopped near the base of an active volcano called the Black Angel to collect glossy black chunks of obsidian—some rounded by nature into Apache Tears. Then they’d turned inland and followed a lesser-traveled road into the central range of mountains. Each day alone with Ashlyn was a gift from the Goddess and consort, and he rode in a half-aroused state from just thinking about making love with her. 38

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Ahead on the trail, Ashlyn reined her mare to one side, leaving enough room beside her and the packhorse for him to join them. She’d chosen a spot under the long shadows of an ancient broad oak backed by towering twin pine trees. The cool, spicy shade felt good after the long ride. In companionable silence they gazed back where they’d come from at the sweep of land and ocean visible from this high point. Both fairy-dragons had ridden with them since he and Ashlyn had shared parts of their lunch with the mated pair before starting up the winding track. Pepper had dozed on Ashlyn’s shoulder, while Hawthorne had chosen the bedroll lashed behind Swiftfoot’s saddle. Now the fairy-dragons swept into the air, flying in joyous circles around each other before darting under the thick oak branches toward the forested mountain slopes and out of sight. “We’ve made good time,” Ashlyn said gesturing to the distant bulk of Black Angel Mountain and its ever-present plume of smoke. Basil recognized the position of the volcano as the one he’d seen on his approach to Avalonia. Of more immediate concern was the coming of sunset. “We need to find a campsite soon,” he said. “I’ve been this way before. Another twenty or thirty minutes ride up the mountain will bring us to a stone shelter used by the few travelers on this shortcut between the north and south coast roads. There’s a source of fresh water and each party using the shelter replaces any wood they’ve used.” 39

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“Sounds perfect.” Basil’s dream of an easy camp and a long night of lovemaking with Ashlyn was interrupted when Swiftfoot danced uneasily in place, ears pricked forward and his head turned toward a thick stand of ferns and brush some twenty feet or so beyond the oak and pines and closer to the bulk of the upper mountain. Thanks to his dragon shift-shape ability, Basil’s senses were more acute than most humans. Unsheathing his sword, he lifted his head to sample the faint scents in the air, but the suspicious area was downwind, with the prevailing ocean winds coming from behind him. “Wait here and be ready to ride back the way we came.” He urged his mount toward whatever had caught Swiftfoot’s attention. ::Outlander, danger,:: an unfamiliar voice invaded his thoughts. ::Bandits approach.:: The black fairy-dragon, Hawthorne landed on Basil’s shoulder. ::We must protect Marama Ashlyn. Do not reveal her identity or they may torture her in revenge for her father’s decisions in council.:: Just then, Ashlyn, with Pepper hovering overhead, rode up to his side saying, “Bandits are coming. You have to get away before they see you. They hate strangers.” “Would I leave you unprotected?” he growled impatiently, scanning the dense stand of trees on one side of the track and the narrow cut behind them where it continued. “Do you think they’ll go away without any fuss and leave you unharmed?” 40

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“Yes…maybe…” She sent a nervous glance around her. “I don’t know. I’ve never had any trouble with bandits. They must be getting desperate to come so close to a trade route.” “We don’t know what’s up ahead. Turn back,” he ordered. “It’s downhill.” He cut the packhorse loose from Ashlyn’s saddle to give her more freedom and a better chance to outrun her pursuers. When she hesitated, he shouted, “Go,” and slapped Moonstone’s rump, counting on Ashlyn’s riding skills to keep her in the saddle. Moments later, men swarmed out of concealment from behind boulders or thick brush. Basil barely had time to see Ashlyn overpowered and dragged from the saddle before a heavy net fell over him and Swiftfoot. He hacked at the thick, sticky-covered rope mesh, while trying to fend off attackers stabbing at him between the twisted fibers. Hawthorne swooped and dived overhead, searing the coarse mesh and the men with gouts of flames. Acrid smoke and the stink of battle mixed with the curses and cries of the injured bandits. Every limited move Swiftfoot made tangled the gelding tighter in the net. Basil pulled his feet and legs loose from the sticky mesh and dropped to the ground in time to divert a blow aimed at his mount’s fragile front legs. Between battling for his life and protecting his horse, Basil caught glimpses of Pepper flaming Ashlyn’s attackers, while she kicked and bit at the bandits trying to hold her. 41

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As he reached into his mind to initiate a shapeshift, a heavy blow from behind knocked him dizzy. Barely conscious, he heard an authoritative voice call, “Hold, outlander. Do not move or the woman dies.” Anger cleared Basil’s vision. He went cold at the sight of Ashlyn helpless in the hold of two burly men, while a third held a wicked-looking knife blade at her throat. No matter how quickly he could shift to dragon, it would be too slow to prevent her death. Careful not to move, he called, “I surrender. Release the woman.” The knife-bearer gazed at him and finally slid the weapon into his belt sheath. “I give orders here, not you. The woman lives for now, but her life or death will depend on your actions.” As the bandit chief prowled toward him, Basil’s muscles tensed. Caught between his pledge to surrender—which held him more securely than any ropes—and the sickening knowledge that he’d failed to protect Ashlyn, he could only watch for a way out…if he survived the next few minutes. The brawny leader stood over Basil and gave him a searching look. “After you pledged your surrender, I allowed you a chance to shapeshift and break your word.” He smoothed the closed wings of the brown and gold fairy-dragon on his shoulder. “My forever-friend says you can shift. Are you a coward that you didn’t change shape and attempt to rescue the woman?” “Call me coward or fool.” Basil gave the bandit a cool 42

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look. “I keep my word as long as the one who receives it honors their promise.” He glanced past the leader at Ashlyn, still gripped by the two rough-looking men. “Your followers continue to hold my woman in peril. Is that how you honor your word?” “You’re bold for a man held down by a net coated with stickyhold and at the mercy of a dozen swords.” Without his gaze leaving Basil’s face, the leader said, “Release the woman, but do not allow her to leave.” “I’ll take her in charge, Captain Ustim,” offered a slicklooking swordsman. “No, Stang. You’ll try to seduce her.” “Seduce, hell, she’ll come to me as sweet as any little pussy comes when I pet her tits and fuck her ass.” Other bandits joined in the joking, but Basil heard the undercurrent of lust running through the words. Trapped on his back by the hardening stickyhold, his view of Ashlyn was blocked by Ustim and Stang. Basil curled his fists in impotent rage. Had she been injured? He could only trust her safety to the leader’s control of his men. Ustim hunkered down beside him and studied Basil’s face and clothing. “By what name should I call you, outlander, when I add your capture to our history?” “Call me Basil Greenstorm.” Swiftfoot, still on its feet, but tangled in the net and pressed down by the weight, let out a soft whinny. Helpless to give the gelding relief, Basil said, “My horse 43

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doesn’t deserve to suffer, Ustim. Get him out of the devilish trap before he breaks down.” “No attempt to bargain, outlander?” “Would you in my place?” Ustim nodded. “Well said.” He gestured to another follower. “Release the prisoner’s mount and put it with mine.” The man came forward with a skin flask and poured a thick liquid along the path of each rope. Slowly he pulled it away from Swiftfoot’s hide, then ran his hands expertly over the mount’s body. Patting the side of Swiftfoot’s neck, he said, “By tomorrow morning, this fellow will be as right as consort’s pecker.” As Swiftfoot was led away across the sparse grass and rocky ground, Ashlyn came into Basil’s view flanked by the two burly captors. Her clothing was soiled and torn, but she hurried toward him without limping. Pepper hovered above her out of reach of the men and their swords and spears. Ashlyn slipped between Ustim and Stang, dropped to her knees at the edge of the net, and reached through an opening between the rope mesh to touch the side of his face. “You’re hurt,” she said in a choked voice. “I’ve had worse.” He looked her over carefully and spotted blood oozing through a ripped shoulder seam in her tunic. “Who wounded you?” he said in cold fury, impotent to move in the hardened net. “I’ll kill him.” Ustim moved into Basil’s line of sight. “Bold words from a 44

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prisoner unable to lift a hand.” “Release me and I’ll fight to the death with the dogfucker who injured my woman.” “Your woman?” The bandit leader idly scratched his-fairy dragon’s throat. “Are you willing to prove your claim to all my followers after we camp?” “”I’ll fight anyone you say. Anytime. Anyplace.” “Nothing that easy.” Ustim grinned broadly. “My men enjoy a good fuck more—” Basil cursed. “You and your woman will prove you are mates by performing the ritual of fertility for all to see, but with one change…you will be bound and dosed with quist to prevent you from shapeshifting.” Quist. Basil sucked in a breath. The bandit chief knew he could shift, but he’d kept his ability to change to dragon form a secret, even from Ashlyn. If it came to preserving his honor or saving her from rape or death, he’d foreswear his precious honor to protect her. Then, once she was safe, he’d give himself to the judgment of a Cymbrian tribunal and endure the disgrace and execution or exile for losing his honor. *

*

*

Night had fallen while Ashlyn—hands tied behind her back, and one ankle tethered to the trunk of a blister tree by a short rope—waited for the fertility ceremony with growing apprehension. 45

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The bandits who’d tied her there had removed her soft boots and cut away her sleeves, but left the rest of her body covered for the time being. As one of her first captors—the one who still nursed a bite and bruises from her efforts to escape—explained, “We have to protect yer delicate tits from the blister tree sap until after the ceremony with Greenstorm.” He’d laughed in a way that made her skin crawl and said, “Me and Snake and anyone else wantin’ a piece will get our turns to fuck you blind.” Basil, stripped of his shirt and boots, had been tied to the same tree with his arms drawn over his head and his wrists fastened to a branch. He stood on the dirt and scattered dry leaves and sharp twigs—his legs spread and ankles tied against the trunk. Only the slow movement of his bare chest as he inhaled and exhaled proved he still lived. Basil’s eyes had remained closed and his head lolled forward ever since he’d convulsed after one of the bandits had given him too large a dose of quist. Three drops were a stimulant, but more could do irreparable harm. He’d been forced to swallow more. Had she pulled him from the waves only to see him die on this mountain? At the thought, her throat ached with despair. Several times she stood, careful to keep her balance, and pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart. Time had passed while the bandits set up camp and ate a leisurely meal illuminated by magical balls of light hovering 46

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overhead. Now they had finished eating and Stang approached her with water and roasted strips of hopper. The thought of food made her stomach clench. Fighting back nausea, she turned her head away. “Marama,” Stang said, surprising her with the term of respect, “you will need strength to survive the night.” “Why should you care?” Hunkering down face to face, he gave her a careless smile. “Why not? What male doesn’t like to watch a pretty lady fucking and being fucked?” “Go to hell,” she spat out, seething with growing anger. “You want a show? Release me and give me a knife. I’ll be happy to cut off your—” “Cut off my balls, pretty lady, or my oh-so-proud cock? Maybe send me to hell?” His mocking smile fueled her rage. “I’ve been there—to all thirteen, and even the demons didn’t want me.” His smile disappeared. “Pretty marama, I know from experience that tonight will test your body and mind beyond anything you’ve ever known. For your sake and Greenstorm’s, please eat.” Once more he offered the food and water. His “please” surprised her into forcing down a few bites of meat he offered and drinking the herb-laced water when he held the skin flask to her mouth. Rising, he propped up Basil’s head with surprising care and trickled the restorative drink into his mouth. Basil’s throat worked as he swallowed. Even in the pale light shed by the 47

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light globes, his face gained color. Willing to give the bandit his due, she said, “Thank you,” in a soft tone so only he could hear her words. He gave a mocking salute. “You can repay me with a hot show.” He sauntered back to the men sprawled around the cooking fires. Closer to her and Basil, three bandits busily formed a rough stone ring and set fire pits at spaced intervals on the perimeter. Two other men pounded thick, wooden stakes into the dirt and thin grass in the center of the earthen circle. From time to time, one of them would look at her and make comments to the others. Their words—piece of ass, wet pussy, hot tits, and tight butt rose—carried to her in the clear, quiet air. “Ignore them,” Basil said quietly. His steady gaze searched her body and face, brushing over her like a caress. “You’re conscious.” Struggling to her feet, she gazed at his alert expression and the tenderness in his eyes. “Thanks be to the Goddess and consort.” Careful to keep her balance so she wouldn’t press his bare back any tighter against the blister bark, she gave him a kiss filled with all her pent-up anxiety and relief. His mouth took hers hungrily and he strained forward against the ropes, pressing at her lips with his tongue. Meeting his kiss fire for fire, she opened her mouth and sucked his tongue inside. They tangled in a hot, sweet duel. 48

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Desire shot to lust and her body tightened—clenched—from throat to pussy. To her edgy delight, woman’s honey wet her panties, and even tied as he was, Basil’s erection pressed against her stomach. Basil broke their kiss long enough to gasp, “When we’re free, I’m going to take you so deep we won’t know where one ends and the other begins.” “I’ll hold you to your promise.” She bit him gently on the chin, then slid her mouth lower to one coppery nipple and wrapped her tongue around the hard tip. He tasted of salt and male sweat—his sweat with the faint trace of the spicy quist as it worked out of his skin. Aroused by his low groan, she licked her way across his slick chest to his other nipple. Her shoulders ached from her hands still bound behind her back. The scratch on her shoulder throbbed. A streak of blisters raised on her arms by the tree, burned, but they all blended into an aching desire to feel him in her mouth, between her legs—for him to take her in every way possible. A sudden jerk on her ankle rope made her fall onto the hard, cold dirt and leaves. Rough hands turned her over, face up and she felt a sharp blade at her throat. Not again. She went still and sucked in a breath to hide her fear and anger. Stang stepped into view. “Gently, Baldo,” he said in a bored tone. “Don’t bruise the bitch, unless Greenstorm tries to fight.” While he was speaking, other bandits cut Basil loose from the tree and prodded him, with cudgels, toward the circle. He 49

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lost his balance, fell, and was dragged back to his feet in a flurry of blows and curses. Except for trying to protect his face and head, he didn’t fight back, and she knew why; he took the blows because of the bandits’ threats to her. Ustim strolled into her sight, blocking her view of the circle, and towered over where she lay on the ground. He gestured for the knife-holder to move back, then he hunkered down close. In a low, threatening tone, he said, “I have learned who you are, daughter of Galatyn Priam Toscano. Many of my men have suffered greatly, even lost their families because of decisions made by your father and other mages in the Circle of Seven. If they learn your identity, nothing will stop them from raping and killing you for revenge.” Standing, he said in a louder voice, “Cut her loose. It’s time for her to buy hers and Greenstorm’s lives.

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CHAPTER 4 Ashlyn shivered in the cool night wind blowing across the forest clearing. Her ropes had been removed and her clothes stripped away, then dropped at her feet. Ustim had stopped her in the shadows at the edge of the trees, where even light from the moons was lost in the thick cover of leaves. “Daughter of Galatyn,” he’d said, “if you wish to last the night, give my men a good show. Let them feel each time you fist Greenstorm’s cock. Arouse him, fuck him and make him fuck you until you’re both limp—then do it again—or I’ll let Baldo and my other men loose on you both.” With Ustim’s threat still giving her chills, Ashlyn studied the setting for hers and Basil’s ordeal. 51

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Flames leaped and snapped in the fire pits at four points of the stone-edged circle. A hollow log had been set outside the fire directly across from her. Earlier, she’d watched and heard two men test its resonance with long, thick clubs. Magical light globes floated overhead, like those that had illuminated the circle of the Moon Goddess during the celebration of Ostara in New Caledon. That sacred circle near the ocean had carried the promise of life. This unconsecrated, profane circle in the wild mountains spoke of pain, rape, and death. A promise made more real by the rowdy bandits seated on the rough ground or standing around the edge. Basil, the focus of their taunts and curses, lay naked and spread-eagled on the dirt and sparse grass—hands and feet once more bound—this time to the wooden stakes driven into the rocky soil. The light spilling across his muscular body revealed fresh scrapes and dried blood. Turning on Ustim, she said, “You’re an oath-breaker. After our capture, we offered no resistance to you or your men, but they broke your pledge when they beat him.” “They did it, not me.” “Did you order them to stop?” Righteous anger made her bold and she stepped closer to him. “You’re their chief and gave your promise.” Ustim reached up to smooth his fairy-dragon, but the little male hissed and moved away, finally taking to the air. The bandit chief gave her a dark look. “Who the hell are you that even my forever-friend deserts me at your 52

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displeasure?” “He understands right and wrong. You should pay closer attention.” Ustim glared at her. Her head thrown back in defiance, she stared back, while frantically searching for a way to help Basil. “Goddess and consort will hold you accountable for breaking an oath,” she said, “but according to the teachings of the Moon Goddess, if you show goodwill by allowing a woman to minister to the aggrieved party’s injuries, the Goddess will be lenient.” Ashlyn hoped Ustim had only a sketchy knowledge of the teachings. “What do you suggest?” he asked. “Not even the wrath of the Moon Goddess will make me release you and Greenstorm.” “Give me water and a cloth to clean his wounds and soothing oils for healing. Those actions will show your goodwill.” She felt the weight of his gaze on her and forced herself to stand quietly, when everything within her clamored to rush to Basil. “You may have water.” Ustim nudged her clothes with a foot. “Use one garment for cloth.” “Thank you, sir,” she said humbly. Her heart danced at even this small victory. “Someone bring a flask of water for the woman.” As he finished speaking, the bandit’s fairy-dragon fluttered back down to his shoulder and settled its wings with little flip. 53

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“Here, Captain.” Stang emerged from the thicker section of trees carrying a skin flask and gave it to her so quickly she wondered if he’d been listening to the whole conversation. As if reading her thoughts, he murmured, “Of course.” Then she put him and Ustim out of her mind and focused on Basil. *

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Basil lay stretched and staked out on the dirt and rocks like, he thought, a dragosaur ready to be skinned of its pelt. He could ignore the curses and taunting threats hurled at him by the bandits waiting outside the circle of stones. He’d long since learned to ignore pain, but he was tormented by what would happen to Ashlyn if he didn’t find a way to help her escape. Once again, he turned his thoughts inward to the part of his mind that controlled his ability to shift forms. Still drugged. He wanted to howl in frustration. The night wind shifted and swirled, tantalizing his acute senses with brief snatches of Ashlyn’s unique scent. Thank all the gods the quist hadn’t dulled his normal senses. He turned his head toward the scent, piercing the dark with dragon-enhanced vision, and saw her standing, unbound, in front of a dark clump of trees. Naked! The bastards had stripped off her clothes and even her boots, leaving her exposed to the mountain chill. Cursing the bandits, he tightened his muscles and strained at the ropes holding his wrists and ankles—tugging and 54

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jerking, he tried to loosen the wooden stakes. The ropes burned into his abraded flesh. Spurts of fiery pain down his back told him wounds left by the corrosive blister tree sap had broken open in his struggles. Baldo swaggered across the circle, gave Basil a cheerful kick to the ribs, and stood grinning down at him. “Give it up, Greenstorm, and I’ll let you watch me screw the lady with the pretty tits and ass before you die.” Gasping for breath, Basil gave the bandit a look that made the burly man step backward. “Dogfucker.” Baldo drew a knife from his belt sheath and moved forward. Then another voice called, “Hold, Baldo. Let the ceremony begin.” *

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Ashlyn, poised in the shadows, stared past the first line of rocks to Basil, tied and helpless. After Ustim’s command, Baldo had slunk back to join the rest of the bandits. It was up to her to give them an erotic show. Had Basil’s body been so mistreated that he couldn’t respond to her efforts? Carrying the folded tunic and water flask like an offering to the gods, she stepped into the illumination from both moons and the globe lights. At her appearance, the drummers began a slow beat on the log. Someone had brought a flute and the player added a high, sensuous melody to the deep throb. 55

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Recalling moves learned as part of teachings to please a mate, she moved forward in a gliding step, swinging her hips to the pulsing drumbeats. Basil’s face was turned toward her. He’d gazed at her from the moment she’d first walked away from the trees. Firelight flickered on his stretched out, slick, tanned body. The bandits called obscene suggestions, but she closed out the sound of their voices and focused on Basil—on his enticing mouth waiting for her lips; on his male nipples set in dark coins of hungry flesh, waiting for her tongue and teeth— and lower to his cock no longer hidden in the brush of dark, masculine curls. She took three more gliding steps forward and posed with her hands lowered and away from her sides and breasts thrust forward to glimmer in the lights and arouse not only him, but the other men watching. Ustim had said to give them a show, and she would to save Basil’s life. Setting aside the tunic and closed flask, she turned in a slow, sensuous circle, and plumped the globes of her breasts between her hands. Striking a pose as if offering them to an unseen lover, she tipped back her head, eyes closed in ecstasy, and felt her hair slide across the midpoint of her buttocks. Three more swaying steps brought Ashlyn close to one of the fires. She paused and bathed in the heat, knowing the brighter light made her swollen breasts and full nipples more enticing. One male voice shouted, “Come here, bitch. You can light 56

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my fire anytime,” and he laughed at his own joke. “Promises, promises.” Forcing a laugh, she minced back to the flask and tunic, and swept up the flask. The hairs on the back of her neck rose at the sense of a dark threat poised to strike. By the Great Goddess, she desperately wanted to be home or anywhere else, but Basil’s life was in her hands. With a flirty look from under half-closed eyelashes, she opened the stopper, gave a throaty laugh, and dribbled the herb-laced water down her breasts. Dipping two fingers into the liquid, she spread it to each tit and in a line down her stomach to her own tangle of curls. Wildly aware of Basil’s rapt attention, she brought the wet fingers to her lips and sucked them into her mouth. For the benefit of those watching, she curved her lips in a smile of lust to hide her excitement at the identity of the lemon-mint flavor. She heard choked moans and a few curses from the bandits. The fickle wind carried the odor of unwashed male bodies and the distinctive musk of aroused men, but the only arousal that interested her was Basil’s. Sweeping up the tunic, she closed the last gap between them—watching his broad cock grow and lengthen at her approach. She knelt by his head and formed a globe of light to better illuminate his face. “Sweet lady,” he said in a low, choked voice, “I’ve put you in danger by not listening to my instincts and turning back.” 57

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“Hush, I made my own decision to continue up the trail,” she said in a soft voice. Propping up his head in the crook of her arm, she gave him a few sips of water. He swallowed, then turned his face toward her and touched his mouth to her breast. A spark of raw desire trailed from his lips to her groin. “By the great consort, you still turn me on,” he muttered. “Greenstorm…” She struggled to focus on him instead of the needs storming through her body. “Don’t talk. Save your strength and let the chalice-fruit in the water work while I clean your injuries.” “Chalice-fruit?” he mumbled. “It neutralizes the effects of quist,” she answered in a barely-there voice that carried no farther than him. “Good…” He closed his eyes as if looking inward. “’S not working.” “Give it time.” Aware of the dangerous growing restlessness among the audience, she poured a small portion of liquid on a section of the tunic, and spread her knees enough to flash the men each time she bent to clean the cuts and scrapes on Basil’s face. The repeated exposure of her damp labia made them more sensitive to the alternating cool breeze and fitful heat from the fires. By the time she took his mouth in a deep kiss, she’d heard enough raw comments to know her strategy to keep their attention had been effective. Quickly she finished the task, put aside the garment, and 58

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knelt between his legs. Leaning forward, she brushed his lower body with her breasts and then laid a quick kiss over his heart. Easing lower down, she licked the skin around his navel. His stomach muscles trembled. “That feel good?” she asked in a voice pitched so her audience could hear. “What about this?” She speared her tongue into his navel and he jerked. “Good,” he gasped. She set her teeth in the flesh beside his navel and nipped, then soothed the bite with a kiss. “Damn you for a tease,” he said in a loud voice, tugging at the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. “Lucky fuckin’ bastard,” one bandit called. Several others offered their own bodies for teasing. Ignoring the outlaws, she kissed her way down the line of skin and muscle from his navel to just above his short male hairs. For the first time, she was confronted with the reality of taking a man’s most private parts into her mouth. She knew she had to do it or Basil would suffer the consequences of the renegades’ anger for her not giving them a raw show to arouse them. She brushed a finger along his broad shaft from the bulbous top to the round testicles at the base with a growing excitement and delight. His penis was fine-grained, warm, and living. She watched it respond to her touch, and that reminded her of the night in the cave when he’d lain between her legs 59

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and stroked her to blinding pleasure with his lips, mouth and tongue. She wanted to bring that same ecstasy to Basil—even more so tonight when it might be their last time together. Sitting back on her heels, she tenderly cradled his balls in one hand and folded the fingers of her other hand around his thick, warm cock. “Ohhh, look what I found,” she said in a low, husky tone. “A warrior’s jewels and his mighty sword.” “Lady…” he warned. With a sly grin, she licked one side of his cock and watched it quiver. “Slave, call me, ‘mistress.’” “Tease.” He tugged at the ropes again. His green eyes had gone wild. “That’s ‘Mistress Tease,’” she agreed, fingering his balls with one hand. Under her touch, his shaft grew longer, straighter and firmer. His meaty length tempted Ashlyn. She slid her mouth over his velvet tip and struggled to reach the base of him. Holding him in her hot mouth, she gazed up his length and saw him throw his head back, eyes closed. She pulled out just enough to say around the top of his brawny shaft, “Shall I stop, slave?” “Gods, no—mistress.” Even tied as he was, he lifted his head enough to stare down his body to where she knelt between his legs with his cock between her lips. Her heart lurched at the raw hunger in his gaze. She slid farther down his quivering rod, using both hands to guide him deeper into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she 60

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reveled in the vibrant feel of him—of his uniquely male taste. He made a low, husky sound—one that raced to her core, tightening the hot coil of pulsing pressure between her legs. Using one hand, she tickled his testicles. He gave another hoarse groan and she felt the balls draw up and harden. “Ash—tease,” he called in a strained voice, even now protecting her identity. “I’m going to… Ah, fuck me,” he cried as hot cum filled her mouth. She swallowed the surging essence of him, caught in the wild, trembling heat of both their desires. Driven by the primitive need to join with him, body to body, she pulled her mouth loose from his slick length and straddled his hips. His cock stood full and strong against her mons. With one hand, she guided it to her wet slit. The feel of slowly settling down its warm, thick length brought another gush of woman’s cream. The twin aromas of male and female musk—mingling and joining as one—rolled over her and heightened her sensitivity. The world of senses spiraled down to that one point of joining. Pepper’s harsh cry and her frantic words, ::Danger, danger—Baldo,:: jolted Ashlyn back to the present. Dazed by the sudden change, she heard Baldo shout, “The bitch is mine.” Drawing away from Basil’s helplessly bound body, she jumped to her feet and watched Baldo tear away from another man’s grasp. The brute sliced at him with a sword and leaped into the circle. He left behind him a confusion of shouts and commands as Ustim and Stang restrained other bandits from 61

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charging into the ring. Ashlyn choked back a cry and froze, but only for a moment. Baldo, sword raised, was headed toward Basil’s exposed chest. Her hands ached and burned. She formed a ball of light and threw it at the wild bandit. He threw up one arm to deflect the blinding light. She heard Basil’s vicious curses as he yanked and twisted at the ropes. From the corner of her eye she saw one binding on his wrist loosen the stake and pop it out of the ground. Twisting and pulling, he went to work on the stake holding his other wrist. Her hands throbbed in pain. An inner voice told her to make fire. Desperate to try anything, she swept up the half empty flask, swung it around like stone sling, and sent it flying toward the man. The missile bounced off him, spraying water. Pausing to wipe the liquid from his eyes, he roared, “I’ll get you, bitch.” Stationing herself between Basil and Baldo, she concentrated on her cupped hands and cried, “Goddess, help. Give me fire.” Suddenly flames spurted from each fingertip, but didn’t burn her skin. Baldo screamed. From the corner of her eye, she saw the loose stake, still tied to Basil’s wrist, slash across the bandit’s body. That desperate move didn’t stop the brute’s sword from slicing into the ground where Basil’s arm and shoulder would’ve been if 62

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he hadn’t managed to pull away. She pointed to the blade, hesitated a split moment because it was too close to Basil, changed her aim to the bandit’s arm, and shouted, “Burn.” Fire spurted from his sleeve and rapidly ate through the fabric to his skin. He howled in pain and fury. The sword fell from his fingers. Stumbling backward, he frantically beat at the flames spreading up his arm to his upper body. Sickened by what she’d caused, Ashlyn screamed, “Baldo, roll in the dirt.” Even while she spoke, she swept up his sword and cut through the rope binding Basil’s other wrist to a stake. He jolted to a sitting position and held out his hand saying, “Give me the sword and run into the woods. I’ll keep the bastards busy while you get Moonstone and escape.” “I won’t leave you,” she said, handing him the sword. He slashed the ropes holding his ankles, stood, wavered, and widened his stance to keep his balance after being bound for so long. He took a second to toss the tunic to her. “Put this on and step back. I’m going to shift.” She eyed the bandits, who had overwhelmed Ustim and Stang, and were charging toward the circle shouting threats. “I’ll dress later.” She draped the garment around her shoulders and raised her hands—fingers spread—toward the men. Her blood seemed to boil in her veins. A great flood of power swept from the bottom of her bare feet and up filling her body. “Burn,” she commanded pointing to the bandits crossing 63

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into the circle. In resigned horror, she watched fire spurt from each man who’d stepped inside the ring. Behind her came the muffled thud of the sword. She didn’t dare take her attention from the next bunch of approaching bandits to glance at what was happening. She felt a rush of air across her back. Suddenly the bandits stopped in their tracks and stared. Some drew their sword. Others turned and fled. A powerful presence filled the night. Pepper and Hawthorne flew in dizzy circles, calling, ::Welcome, great dragon, welcome.:: A deeper, somehow familiar voice flooded her mind and heart. ::Ashlyn, get ready. We’re going to your family.:: Was it… She whirled and faced a shimmering green dragon with gold edges on its wings and neck and along its muzzle. The gold-flecked green eyes gazing at her were filled with awesome intelligence. Ashlyn swallowed hard and gasped, “Basil Greenstorm, you’re a dragon?”

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CHAPTER 5 Basil swept Ashlyn into his arms—holding her close to protect her from a spate of arrows fired at them—and leaped into the night sky. As he stroked heavily to gain height and speed, another flight of arrows followed. One tore through his right wing and another lodged in his shoulder. Angling his head on his long neck, he gripped the pesky shaft in his jaws and pulled it from his thick hide. He heard Ashlyn call his name, but the rush of wind stirred by their flight distorted further speech. Then her mental voice touched his mind more strongly than any other person ever had—even his family. ::Basil, you’re bleeding. How badly are 65

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you injured?:: ::It’s nothing.:: ::Don’t tell me it’s nothing,:: she answered in a silent voice colored by frustration. ::There’s blood dripping from your shoulder.:: ::My hide’s thick. Any damage will heal when I shift forms.:: Exhilarated by their escape and the thrill of holding Ashlyn in his arms, he added, ::If you’re worried, you can kiss my scratches and make them better after we land.:: ::Arrogant male,:: she said in a disgusted tone. Basil felt her thump his leg and he grinned into the darkness. *

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They flew to the west as the stars slowly disappeared into the pale blue and pink of early dawn. Below them the broad river Gorm pointed the way to New Caledon, the capitol city of Avalonia. They’d begun in the cold, pine-scented mountain air and swept down past the sage and dried grass aromas hovering over the rolling foothills and plains. Now they made their way through the warm ocean breezes laden with the fragrance of tropical trees and flowers. Flying high across the sprawling city, Basil followed Ashlyn’s mental map to a walled complex of buildings set on a bluff overlooking the dark waters of the bay. ::There’s room in the stable yard for you to land,:: she said. ::After you shift, we can go in through one of the side 66

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doors.:: As he dropped lower toward Ashlyn’s family compound, he saw faces upturned in his direction and people pointing. Bells began to ring across the city. More people erupted out of the buildings and stared upward at him. Women clutched their children. He heard faint screams. ::Ashlyn, they’re acting like they’ve never seen a dragon. Is that not a shift form here?:: ::Not for a hundred and fifty years. The last living dragons seen in Avalonia were feral rogues who chose to remain in their shift form. They ravished the countryside and carried off young men and women before the rogues were destroyed by the king’s guard and magic.:: ::What about the dragon shifters who remained in their human form and didn’t go rogue?:: As he spoke with Ashlyn, Basil watched her family’s household guard station themselves in and around the compound. ::The lost shifters,:: she answered in a sad tone. ::They either flew away into exile or lived here in a quist-haze the rest of their life.:: ::Poor bastards.:: Bleakly he recalled the misty helplessness brought on by the drug. ::Yes.:: She stroked his leg. ::They may as well have gone into exile instead of living a half-life in Avalonia. In the end, they were shunned by everyone and listed as tainted in public records—including one of my mother’s distant ancestors.:: ::Harsh treatment,:: Basil commented, veering away from the stable yard to search for another landing place close to 67

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Ashlyn’s home. The warrior in him approved of the household guards’ positioning, even if it did make returning Ashlyn safely to her family more difficult. His heart wanted him to fly away with her to his home in Cymbria and never return. Honor demanded he release Ashlyn to her family and give her the freedom to choose life in Avalonia or with him in a distant land. While these thoughts tumbled through his mind, he looked for a place to land close to one of the compound gates. He finally spotted an open patch of grass and low-growing plants on the side closest to the bay. Basil plummeted down as close to the ground as he could before flaring his wings wide into a fast landing. A handful of guardsmen raced toward them. One shouted, “Save the Lady Ashlyn.” ::Goodbye, Ashlyn,:: Basil said, gently settling her on her feet. ::I’ll return when I can.:: Aware of the fighters rapidly growing closer, he angled his head down to her eye level. ::Will you be all right with these men?:: “Yes,” she said aloud. “I’ve known them for years.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to leave you, but you have to go before you’re killed.” A low rumble and a sudden flaming barrier between the guardsmen and the wall punctuated her words. “Fire magic,” she screamed. “Get away. Fly.” Turning, she ran toward the guardsmen shouting, “Don’t 68

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hurt the dragon. He saved me from the bandits.” As Basil leaped into the sky, he saw one of the fighters scoop Ashlyn up in his arms and move back to the gate. The other guardsmen formed a protective ring, with weapons aimed outward. The defensive unit marched confidently toward the magical barrier. It opened briefly to allow them passage, then closed again around the entire compound. ::Be safe,:: she mentally called. *

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While Kayne, the captain of the household guard, carried her inside, Ashlyn closed her eyes and surrendered to bonedeep weariness. Since the moment she’d pulled Basil from the waves, she’d lived through more emotional highs and lows in the last five days than in all her previous years. Ashlyn recalled her last view of him in dragon form while he’d hovered high overhead. The sight of his powerful, shimmering green body trimmed in gold had sent waves of fear through the people of the city, but not her. She’d thought of the heat, the overwhelming pleasure, and the tender care he’d given her in his human form. Would he ever have the chance to return? Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Oliver, her father’s personal secretary. Behind him Nimbor, her father’s tiny male pooka messenger and all around snoop, smaller than a fairy-dragon, hovered in the air. She saw a flicker of concern in Oliver’s eyes when he saw 69

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her. Then his face smoothed into his usual unemotional expression. “Lord Toscano has asked if you require the services of a healer.” “She’s bleeding,” Captain Kayne said. “Of course she needs a healer.” Struggling in his arms, Ashlyn said, “Put me down. This isn’t my blood. It’s the dragon’s. He protected me from the bandits’ arrows.” Kayne carefully settled her on her feet and gestured to her arms and legs. “You have other injuries.” While she’d pled on Basil’s behalf, Ashlyn had ignored the pain. Now she became achingly aware of her welts and rope burns. “The bandits tied me to a blister tree,” she said, “but I don’t need a healer. One of the household maids can help.” Oscar cleared his throat and said, with his palms together in a gesture of apology, “Lord Toscano commanded me to say if you don’t need a healer, you are to present yourself to him in his office—immediately.” Ashlyn saw Captain Kayne stiffen. To forestall any problem, she quickly said, “I will obey my father’s command.” The moment she finished speaking, the ten-inches-tall, dappled green-and-brown pooka darted away like a gossipy bird. Ashlyn hurried through the hallways to her father’s office, ignoring the startled looks from members of the staff when they saw her bloody, disheveled condition. At the tall, heavily carved door, Oscar gave a quick rap 70

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and then ushered her inside. Once again, her mother and her father’s second wife were seated on either side of him in brocade-upholstered chairs. He sat upright and stern-faced in his more elaborate carved and upholstered throne-like chair. All were placed at an angle from the honey-stone fireplace. Two padded chairs faced the trio across a low table holding a black crystal scrying bowl, an incense burner, and candles—purple for power and yellow for divination. Tiny Nimbor sat on one edge of the table, his feet slowly kicking back and forth in the air like a child’s, while he daintily ate a roseberry the size of his head. Ashlyn knew his appearance of child-like innocence hid his cunning nature. Her father nodded toward the empty seat. “Sit, Ashlyn. Nimbor said you have much to tell us.” Evelina—her face twisted in disgust—added, “Try not to get any blood on the furniture.” Ashlyn’s mother rose with an exclamation of dismay and crossed the short distance to sit on the chair set beside hers. “Dearling, you’ve been hurt. Why didn’t Oscar call for a healer?” “It’s not my blood,” she said—warmed by her mother’s rarely seen concern. Galatyn Toscano snapped, “Pamper her later, wife. I have questions for the girl.” Girl. Mentally Ashlyn sighed. Her father was going to be his usual difficult self. She braced herself, determined to hide 71

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as much as she could about Basil’s identity. The high mage’s first words showed her that would be easier said than done. “My scrying bowl showed you traveling with a man in the mountains. Who is he?” “I called him Outlander. We were on the road connecting the North Coast road to the Gorm River road when the bandits took us captive.” Ashlyn told herself it wasn’t a lie. She had addressed Basil as outlander when they first met. “Did this outlander fight or escape to leave you with the bandits?” “We both fought, but they threw a rope net over him the way fisher-folk cast nets upon the water to harvest fish. The strands were coated with stickyhold. He couldn’t cut through before the gluey stuff hardened.” Her mother took her hand. “Dearling, I know it’s difficult to talk about, but you can tell us. Did the bandits rape you?” “No.” She suppressed the memories of making passionate love with Basil. “The great dragon saved me first.” To divert their attention from Basil and his shift form, Ashlyn said, “One good came out of being captured. I finally have a magical gift. I can call fire.” Her father leaned forward, studying her more closely. “How did this miracle take place? Fire Wizard Zenos tested you and found no spark of magical ability.” “I think it was there all the time and surfaced because I was terrified and in pain. They forced me to dance naked as entertainment. Their leader said to give his men a good show or he’d turn me over to a bandit named Baldo and others to 72

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rape me.” She shuddered at the memory. Her mother said softly, “What happened next?” Ashlyn stared at the cold fireplace where logs and kindling had been arranged for the next fire. “They’d waited until nighttime after their meal. The outlander and I had been tied to the blister tree since we’d been captured, and he was in a quist-haze.” Her father nodded. “A standard precaution against a prisoner shifting form.” “They didn’t dose me,” Ashlyn said. “Probably because the leader had recognized me and knew I was magic-blind and shifter-dumb.” Nodding in agreement, her father said, “Continue, First Daughter.” First Daughter. With that title, her father had elevated her from girl to a more important status. She took a deep breath and continued, “The bandits had set up a ring of stones, complete with fire pits at the four major directions—a corruption of the sacred dance ring. I moved to the center in a ceremonial manner and began my…performance.” She paused, overwhelmed by the memory of Basil’s magnificent body spread and bound—helpless, threatened with torture and death, but responding to her touch. Recalling his unique scent and the erotic taste of his shaft and balls, she shifted in her chair. Pressure and heat coiled between her legs. She sent a swift prayer to the Goddess and consort to hide her arousal. 73

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“What happened next, Marama Ashlyn?” Nimbor’s highpitched voice pulled her back to the story. Worriedly, she tried to recall if one of the pooka’s magical abilities was that of a truth detector. What she’d said was true, just not complete. Hoping they believed her words and didn’t ask any awkward questions, she continued, “As I said, they forced me to dance naked. It wasn’t long before they shouted lewd suggestions. Many unfastened their pants to fondle their private parts.” Her mother stroked Ashlyn’s hand encouragingly. “It’s what men do when they’re aroused, dearling.” Ashlyn heard a muffled, “Carissa, please—” from Evelina. Her father thumped the arm of his chair. “By the great consort, I’ll petition the king to send troops against those bandits.” He settled back in his chair. “Now tell us about your magical gift.” Ashlyn dipped her head to acknowledge his request. “With every step I took within the profane ring, my fear and anger grew. My hands began to tingle and then throb in pain. When the bandits surged toward the ring, I prayed to the Goddess for help. Some instinct directed me to call for fire. When I did, flames spurted from my fingertips and I set a fire, like this.” Rising to her feet, Ashlyn pointed at the wood arranged in the fireplace. Fire danced at each fingertip. “Burn!” she commanded and the stack burst into roaring flames. A stunned silence followed her demonstration—so absolute, the pop and sizzle of the conflagration filled the office. She heard the guards outside the great carved door give 74

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sign and countersign, but no one spoke in the room. Shakily, Ashlyn settled into the chair, hoping her gift of fire would give her enough status to convince her father she should choose her own life partner. Caution urged her to keep her ability to form globes of light a secret—held in reserve. High Wizard Galatyn Toscano stood, in all his dignity, and paced around the low table to stand in front of Ashlyn. “First Daughter,” he said, bending to grip her chin in one hand, “I am well pleased by your late-blooming gift. This proof of your magical ability will make King Maldoc even more eager to join our house to his when he weds you in twenty-two days.”

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CHAPTER 6 Ashlyn and Drusilla rode sedately through the main marketplace escorted by three mounted household guardsmen—one on the left, another on the right, and the third guarding their backs. With the approach of the great ceremony of the Grass Moons, visitors had already begun flooding into the city. For many, this would be the one-time pilgrimage to the temple of the Moon Goddess and the great festival to celebrate procreation. For the merchants, this was a time to sell off their stock and fatten their purses. Mixed among the small shops of the local sellers were temporary booths, cloth-shaded lanais, and even rugs set out to display merchandise brought by the 76

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wandering traders. The air was filled with the scents of flowers and spices and the cries of merchants hawking those and hundreds of other must-have products. Drusilla gave her older sister an encouraging smile. “I know you’re pissed off by the bodyguards, but look at it this way—we’re traveling with an eye-catching escort like members of a high family.” Ashlyn gave in to Druzy’s good-natured way of handling the inconvenience. “I’ve got news for you, little sister. We are from a high family, but you and I don’t flaunt it the way some people do.” “Like our father’s second wife.” Drusilla nodded in understanding. “Evelina can hardly wait to join the royal party at the Grass Moons ceremony and your wedding.” Let her bed the king. Ashlyn didn’t voice the treasonous thought, but Pepper, riding on her shoulder, crooned in sympathy. Reaching up to scratch the fairy-dragon under her pale gold muzzle, she recalled the joyful reunion four days earlier when a soldier from the Doryville garrison had ridden up to the Toscano compound with Moonstone and Foxfire. As the soldier explained over a cup of traditional honeysweetened herbal tea in her father’s office, the horses had trotted down the main street of the town and through the open gates into the garrison. “It was the damnedest thing I ever saw,” he’d said to her father as Ashlyn had unobtrusively lingered after bringing the tray of tea and sandwiches. “Both the mare and gelding were 77

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directed by a fairy-dragon holding the reins in its mouth. The saddlebags and packs appeared to be intact, but the blanket roll a traveler would carry was missing. The mare had a note fixed to its tack with the name Toscano and the location of your compound.” After the explanation, Ashlyn had slipped out of the office, left the tray in the kitchen, and raced to the stable yard for a happy reunion with Pepper, Moonstone, and Firefox. A familiar voice among the shouts of the merchants brought Ashlyn’s attention back to her surroundings. It sounded like Basil, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? Filled with guarded hope, she looked around. At the same time, Druzy exclaimed, “Look. Isn’t that Hawthorne on the lei seller’s shoulder?” Following her sister’s nod, Ashlyn gazed at the trader dressed in the blue-and-green patterned lava-lava, purple sash, and necklace of polished kuku’i nuts marking him as an approved vendor of the Singing Islands guild. He’d added a blue-and-green closed vest—probably to disguise the scars from the blister tree, she thought with a pang for what he’d suffered. A broad-brimmed woven grass hat shadowed his face, but his resonance on the psychic plane shouted his name. He stood and held out one arm, displaying a colorful collection of fragrant leis. “Pretty leis for lovely ladies,” he said in a well-rehearsed patter. “Buy my flowers from the Singing Islands. Let them bring enchanted days and fantasy nights.” He gently brushed the plump cream-and-pink petals of one 78

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blossom—with the same erotic tenderness he’d used in stroking Ashlyn between her legs—and everything inside her hummed wanting more. A low, sweet sound from the blossom trembled in the air. Beside her, Drusilla exclaimed, “They truly do make music. I thought that was just a rumor.” Basil gave Druzy an elegant bow. “Marama,” he said, elevating her status from teenager to full grown woman in that one word, “they make sweet chiming sounds only when fresh. The music dies when they fade.” Ashlyn gave him a challenging smile. “That must be why we haven’t seen these magical flowers in Caledon. The Singing Islands are a three-days ride on the South Coast road. How is it you’ve kept them so fresh?” He swept off his hat and held it over his heart. She saw the laughter in his eyes before he bowed his head in deference to her. “Great marama, yesterday, just past midnight, the flowers were picked and strung into leis by moonlight, then brought in be-spelled baskets by speedy catamaran.” “A remarkable enterprise,” she said in her best chatelaineof-the-manor tone. Tilting his head to one side, he gave her a falsely innocent look. “Surely you didn’t think they’d been blown here by a green storm?” Drusilla gave her and Basil an odd look, and Ashlyn realized she had to do something quickly to forestall questions and protect his identity. Unhooking her purse from her belt, Ashlyn said, “Such 79

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clever merchandising should be rewarded. I will buy one for my sister and one for myself.” “An astute buyer deserves the freshest blossoms. I’ll also give you a bargain; two silver dirhems.” He lifted the lid from a large woven container and selected four fragrant leis. At his touch, they chimed in warm, delicate tones. With a glance at the bodyguards, he stepped closer to the horses and held out the leis to Ashlyn and Drusilla. “Please choose.” Druzy chose first. “I’ll have the yellow-and-red one.” “My lady, a pleasure,” he said gravely, slipping it around her neck when she leaned down to receive the enchanting lei. He turned toward Ashlyn. “My lady?” She tipped the two coins into his hand. “You choose.” He held out a lei strung with blossoms whose pure white petals rippled through a rainbow of colors with each movement. As Basil slipped the necklace of flowers around her neck, he murmured, “Dream of me tonight.” *

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After a restless night of erotic dreams, Ashlyn rose at dawn to gather herbs still damp with dew. Still thinking about Basil, she draped the lei of singing flowers around her throat. With each step, they chimed softly, as if serenading her. When her basket was full, she sat quietly on a strip of lush grass in the walled garden, stroking the lei and enjoying the 80

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fragrance blended with the fresh scents of early morning. The ancient kuku’i tree, planted by colonists from Old Earth, spread its twisted branches of light green leaves dusted with silvery powder on the west side of the garden. The morning painted light across the tree’s fragrant white blossoms. Ashlyn loved the old tree. It often set her dreaming of distant lands across the great northern ocean and even beyond the stars. Pepper fluttered down from the tree to a sunny patch of lawn near Ashlyn’s feet and began to preen, raising each blueand-gold-trimmed wing in turn as she stroked her muzzle across the fine scales. “Do you want a rubdown with fine sand and then a kuku’inut oil massage?” Ashlyn asked. ::That sounds delightful…later.:: The dainty fairy-dragon stretched her neck and muzzle and opened her wings wide. The blue deepened in her hide. ::I’m too restless now.:: Still mentally connected to her forever friend, Ashlyn felt Pepper’s edginess and a growing hunger for a male’s touch, rather like her own need for Basil’s caress. A brown-and-gold male fairy-dragon dropped out the sky, flaring his wings wide at the last moment, then arrowed up, flipped over, and fluttered down to land near Pepper. Startled, Ashlyn said, ::Isn’t that Ustim’s fairy-dragon?:: ::We met outside the bandit’s camp,:: Pepper said, giving the male a coy look over one shoulder. Before Ashlyn could think of a good response, Hawthorne 81

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raced in hot and fast, landing between the two fairy-dragons. He gave the usurper male a long look, then presented Pepper with a spear of freshly picked lemon mint. Ashlyn saw the sheen of a fine liquid seeping down Hawthorne’s neck scales from just under his jaw. A stray breeze brought her the scent of a pleasant spicy musk. She glanced at the brown-and-gold male. He had the same type of sheen on his neck. Pepper’s inner thoughts hummed with anticipation. In quick succession, three other males landed in the garden, gave Ashlyn a quick look, then fairly strutted over to Pepper. Each carried an offering—a flower, a colorful bug, or a tempting piece of fruit. Suddenly, the female fairy-dragon crouched, hissing at the males. With a great leap, she soared into the sky, calling, ::Catch me if you can.:: A breath later Hawthorne flew after her, followed by the other males—each one leaving a musky scented trail. The ground fell away in a blaze of speed. Her body throbbed with the oldest imperative in creation—to mate with her chosen life partner. Ashlyn barely had time to realize her mind and heart were locked with Pepper’s in the wild mating flight before the heady combination of sex and danger took over. Together in mind and spirit, the females drove higher, determined to make the males work hard to mark her/them as mate. Twisting in a fast loop, she looked back and laughed at the 82

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clumsy dragons with mating musk slicking their sides and swollen cocks thrust forward. ::Hawthorne has outpaced the others, but I/we are swifter.:: Pepper chortled. For good measure, she aimed another hiss at them before going into a swooping, twisting dive. Ustim’s brown-and-gold male made a determined race at her, barely skimming her body with his tail before she slipped out of the coil and shot straight upward. ::I’m the queen—the ruler of wind and sky—and no one can catch me until I’m ready.:: The Pepper/Ashlyn fairy-dragon arrowed higher. Wings grew tired, breath ached in their throats, but still they climber higher—driven by the primitive need to sort out the strongest mate. One by one the males fell away, except for Hawthorne. His determination both angered and thrilled Pepper at the deepest level. Closing with her, he tried to coil his tail around her body. She swooped away and up, only to find herself trapped in his embrace. He rubbed the side of his neck along hers. His erotic male musk filled her senses and set her own female juices flowing. She twined her neck with his and opened her slit to his swollen cock. As they fell through the sky, he thrust in, pumping his great shaft—slipping out—thrusting in again— and spurted his living seed into her womb, while she screamed with pleasure. 83

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Still rocked with glittering bliss, she suddenly saw the ground rushing up to meet them. ::Hawthorne?:: “I have you, Ashlyn,” a deep male voice answered, and dazedly she realized Basil held her hand. “Pepper? Hawthorne? Where?” “Safe.” He pointed upward where Hawthorne’s strong wings carried both him and Pepper toward the ground in a long glide. “Gods!” She drew her fingers away from him and scrubbed her face with both hands. Her swollen nipples scraped against her tunic. The hot coil of lust between her legs tightened. Basil’s awesome male body so close was a temptation she couldn’t ignore. He touched her shoulder. “Ashlyn, can I help?” “Help?” She turned toward him like a female dragosaur pouncing on fresh prey. “Take me. Love me,” she panted, tugging at his vest, too blinded by soaring desire to unlace the fastenings across his chest. Brushing her fingers aside, he quickly unlaced the garment, while she turned her attention to the sash around his waist. “Hurry, hurry,” she demanded. His vest flashed past, revealing his muscled abdomen. In the meantime, she fought the obstinate coils around his waist. She wanted to tear away the stubborn fabric with her teeth. Finally, the intricate knot yielded. She drew it away from 84

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him, unwrapping the male glory that was Basil Greenstorm. She heard a rip as her own clothes gave way to his strength. Locked in an embrace, they rolled across the narrow strip of grass and landed on their sides in the fragrant bed of lemon mint and basil edged with spicy sweet William. His mouth fastened on her nipple and sucked. His busy hands found her erotic places—not only her pussy, but also the shivery places behind her knees and the dimple at the base of her spine. One of his fingers, moistened in her own woman’s dew, teased her swollen clit—sliding over and around the throbbing love knot. The other slipped down the crack between her butt cheeks. Wildly, she scrabbled at his broad back with her fingernails—deep in desire and blinded by need. The scent of his moist male skin filled her nostrils. Rearing her head back, she bit his side under one arm. He growled and plunged two fingers into her slit and partway out. His other hand reached between her legs from behind, dampening his fingers in her natural lubricant. “Ever been finger-fucked in your ass?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone, pressing against her butt hole. “N…no, but I want everything, everything…” “Good. It’s your first time, so I’ll use my smallest finger.” His hand slid back and forth across the tight opening. Nerve endings came alert in a shimmer of waiting. At the same time, his fingers between her labia twisted. 85

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She caught her breath. The heavy, hot tension expanded through her nerves. She felt the steady pressure opening the tight, puckered flesh low between her butt cheeks. Slowly her body yielded to his relentless pressure. More nerve endings came alive. Arching her back to give his magical fingers more room, caught between two points of unspeakable pleasure, she buried her face against his chest and urged, in a breathy voice, “More. Oh, Goddess, more.” At her cry, both Basil’s hands worked in and out fast and hard—and tipped her over the edge into a gasping, shattering orgasm. *

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They lay together in a damp, exhausted heap. Basil didn’t want to move. His body was tucked against Ashlyn’s, skin-toskin. Her drift of flaxen hair flowed across both of them in a shining veil. The morning sunlight warmed their bodies. A gentle breeze—filled with the fragrance of spice, blooming flowers, and the crushed lei around her neck—brushed their satiated bodies. Ashlyn opened her eyes and smiled at him. With the side of her face cradled on the short, vibrant plants, she murmured, “You…that…we.” She rolled her head slightly, releasing a complex scent of lemon and peppery sweet William. “It was beyond wonderful.” “Wonderful.” Sitting up, he lifted one hand, still slick with 86

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her woman’s juice, and tucked away a strand of hair tangled in her eyelashes. “My brave lady, I love you. Come to Cymbria with me and be my bride, my life partner.” Her eyes welled with tears and one trickled away into the herb bed. “The Goddess knows I love you, but my father has promised me to King Maldoc. According to our tradition, I must obey his wishes as long as I live unmarried under his roof.” Angry at the situation and afraid because he could feel the possibility of their life together slipping out of his control, Basil said, “Leave his house. Move away. I recovered my money from the bandits, and I can find us a place to live out of your father’s reach. If you want to stay in Avalonia instead of going to Cymbria, we’ll remain someplace safe in this country.” While he spoke, she sat up and wiped more tears from her face. “I wish it were that simple, but the promise has already been made. Even it it’s against my wishes, I must marry the king or destroy my family’s honor.” “Let your father repair his own honor,” Basil said savagely. “He’s the one who made the damned promise.” “Dear one, I agree with you about my father, but what will happen to my mother, my sister and brother, and even silly Evelina?” She drew his hand to her face and nestled it against her cheek. Just that touch stirred his tenderness. An unmanly knot formed in his throat. He swallowed and said, “I love my family, so I understand what you said, but by the great consort 87

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and Goddess, there must be a way to protect them and free you from your father’s promise to the king.” “The only way would be to win the place as consort surrogate for the Grass Moons ceremony,” she said in a tearthickened voice. “To do that, you’d have to defeat King Maldoc in a duel on the sacred platform.” He flexed his fingers against her cheek. “In Cymbria, we choose our surrogate consort each time in a series of swordfight contests between warriors from all over the country, including outlanders. Is that how it’s done here?” “Yes. The final winner from the warriors must meet the king in a duel for the honor.” She traced the raised veins in his arm, then lifted her gaze to his. “In all the years of his reign, King Maldoc has never been defeated.” The tightness eased in Basil’s chest. “There’s always a first time for the eternal winner to lose.” He traced a finger across her lips. “To have you, Ashlyn, I’d duel with the devil and all his demons.” “No. You can’t.” Her face turned as white as bleached bones. She pulled away from him and crossed her arms tight against her bare breasts. “You’ll be killed.” “Ashlyn, in Cymbria, I’m a king’s warrior, and I’ve survived battles and one-on-one combat.” He wrapped his arms around her stiff body. After a few moments, she melted into his embrace. “Dear heart,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Please—I forbid you to fight Maldoc. I can’t bear the thought of you dying.” 88

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Slowly she sat up, she removed the lei from her neck, and smoothed the crushed, silent blossoms. “I’ll miss you.” “I’ll bring you another necklace of singing flowers,” he offered. Her hand gently closed around one of the few undamaged flowers and it gave a soft chime. “My love, I wasn’t talking just about the flowers.” Once more, he started to draw her into his embrace, but she shook her head and said, “My whining doesn’t change anything. I’d better get dressed before someone comes looking.” Silently he handed Ashlyn her garments and stood to don his. While he fastened his lava-lava and wrapped his sash around his waist, he watched her graceful movements as she dressed. Only minutes earlier, she’d been a wild, sensual woman in his arms. He finished tying the traditional Singing Islands knot in his sash, recalling her struggle to untie it so they could make hot, sweaty love. Now with each piece of clothing, he felt her slipping away as she returned more and more to her duty and obligations as the first daughter of the Toscano family. A crooning sound turned his attention to Pepper and Hawthorne. The two fairy-dragons perched close together on the branch of a kuku’i nut tree. Hawthorne plucked one of the oval-shaped, hard-shelled nuts from a nearby cluster and gallantly cracked it before offering the spicy kernel to Pepper. 89

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She took it daintily and nibbled at the token of their union as mates. Basil rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. If only it could be so easy for humans to follow their heart. Hawthorne gave Basil a knowing look. ::You humans make winning a mate too complicated.:: He curled his slender tail possessively around Pepper. ::Fight for your mate. Defeat every competitor and win her against all odds.::

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CHAPTER 7 Turning her back on all her dreams, Ashlyn picked up her basket, with the crushed flowers coiled on top of the herbs. Keeping the plants and leaves fresh, she told herself, knowing the reason was far more than that. Straightening her spine, she made herself walk serenely away from the garden and toward the side entrance into the house. Each measured step took her farther away from Basil. She’d been so caught up in her emotions she’d forgotten to ask him how he’d gotten into the walled garden without raising an alarm. Had he shifted to dragon form and flown over the barrier? 91

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Probably not, she mused. The guards patrolling the perimeter of the compound would’ve seen him. She had to trust his ability to escape detection on his way out just the way he had coming in. Lost in memories of her times with Basil, she passed the kitchen and turned into the cool, fragrant stillroom. With a flick of her fingers, she lit the bronze and clear-crystal lantern suspended from the ceiling on a brass chain, and placed the basket on her workbench. She’d spent many pleasant hours in this traditional fittedstone room with its small fireplace, drying racks, and shelves for storing soaps, candles, syrups and oils. At the appropriate times—dawn, midday, or full night, she’d gathered and prepared the clusters of dried herbs hanging from the wooden beams. A good stillroom was the mark of a good chatelaine. Ashlyn sighed. Soon, she’d be using those skills for King Maldoc. One good thing would come out of her dreaded marriage— Drusilla had increased the time she worked with Ashlyn learning all she could about herbs and oils and their many uses. As if summoned by Ashlyn’s thoughts, Drusilla hurried into the room carrying a light day robe over one arm and a brush and ornamented hair sticks in the other hand. “Ashy, I just learned Father has summoned you.” She shook out the pale blue robe with a ribbon flower trim. “Your clothes are ripped and grass-stained. I brought this and the 92

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brush so you can be presentable when you go to him.” With a knowing smile, Druzy added, “You don’t want to look like you’ve been rolling around in the herb garden.” “You’re right.” Ashlyn gave her sister a quick hug, then drew on the robe and fastened it from her neck down to the hem. A few strokes with the brush tamed her hair. She had just finished fashioning it into a shiny coil on top of her head when a quick swirl of air fanned her cheek and Nimbor hovered an arm’s length from her face. His brown-and-green loose clothing rustled like leaves in the green forest where he’d lived before his bond contract with Galatyn Toscano. He gave her a slight bow and said, “Greetings, First Daughter Ashlyn. Your father requires your immediate attendance in his workroom. A guard will escort you.” A guard? Why? Her heart skipped a beat. While the pooka waited, Ashlyn laced the hair sticks in the coil to fasten it in place. “I’ll come immediately,” she said, hiding her worry behind a serene expression. The second shock was the identity of her escort. Instead of a regular guardsman, Kayne, Captain of the Guard waited. She saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes before he resumed his usual impassive expression. Father’s workroom, she thought as she followed Kayne through the house and along the outdoor roofed passageway to the tower building set apart from the main structures for safety and solitude. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in his workroom. 93

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A chill snaked down her spine. Why did he want her in the place where he explored the limits of magic rather than in his study or his office—the family’s usual gathering place for household matters? Even the magically gifted pooka, hovering near her left shoulder, seemed unusually subdued. The moment the household guard opened the heavy brassbound door into the tower, Ashlyn stumbled, disoriented by the thrum of power from the energy node deep in Planet Traber’s rocky mantle. Kayne caught her elbow and steadied her, muttering, “Tread carefully.” Then louder, he said, “High Mage Toscano has ordered me to wait for you here.” “Thank you for your escort, Captain,” she said with formal courtesy, then turned and walked into her father’s presence. At first appearance, his workroom was a more elaborate version of her stillroom, but with more equipment. A long table, the marble top scarred and pitted from many experiments, dominated one side of the room beneath a spread of windows. Instead of retorts and flasks, the only object on the table was small circular item bundled in red silk. A metal globe of Traber sat in the corner made by two shelves filled with books and ancient rolls copied three hundred years earlier from information in the deteriorating computers of the first Old Earth colonists. The ancient Toscano book of spells sat open on a nearby beautifully crafted bookstand. Her father, settled in an armless padded chair, was 94

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studying one of the pages. To protect the priceless velum, he used a pointer of carved unicorn horn instead of his finger to sweep under each line as he read. She waited just inside the doorway for him to acknowledge her. Of course he knew she was there. Other times he’d deliberately ignored her as a way to emphasize his authority. Finally, he looked up and indicated to her to sit in chair placed parallel to the table. Nimbor, still acting subdued, perched on the edge of the table close to her, with his legs dangling quietly. Scowling, her father rose from his chair and prowled toward her, watching her with eyes full of scorn. “Nimbor told me you were rutting with a stranger in the garden a short time ago. Is there no end to your wicked behavior?” “Father…” He raised one hand as if to strike her, then lowered it. “Your foolish act could destroy all my plans to become Chief High Mage of the council.” “Plans? Zenos is still alive.” “The Goddess protect me from your ignorance,” he said bitterly. “He’s an old man who wants to retire from his heavy responsibilities and spend time with his grandchildren. When he goes, King Maldoc will chose a new Chief High Mage from the remaining six members.” “You’re hoping he’ll choose you.” “Not just hope.” Her father gave her an arrogant smile. “My new title will be announced at the close of the Grass Moons ceremony, just before your wedding.” 95

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“How can you be so certain?” “Do you truly think the king wanted you as his third wife? He’d already selected another woman, beautiful and both shapeshift- and magic-gifted, but I offered a better incentive— control of every decision made by the Circle of Seven.” “How can you be sure they’ll always agree with him?” Ashlyn knew she was on dangerous ground asking the question that could prove her father was planning to manipulate and even break Avalonian law. “That is my business.” Her father glared and fingered the silken bundle on the table. “Your part is to marry the king as planned.” Desperately, she tried to reason with him. “Evelina said the king believes you and Mother have an impeccable lineage. What if he learns that one of mother’s ancestors was a lost dragon shifter and listed as tainted in the public records?” “That record has been altered.” His voice dropped to a menacing tone. “Nothing and no one, not even my family, will interfere with my plans. Once you are wed, it will be too late to tell him without you and all the family, even Jax and Drusilla, suffering his wrath.” Chills crawled down Ashlyn’s spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nimbor go very still. “Until your marriage you will tell no one our secret.” He opened the silk package and showed her a coiled bracelet inscribed with symbols. The lettering seemed to dance and blur when she looked at it closely. “This will assure you remain in seclusion,” he said in a 96

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harsh tone. “Hold out your right wrist—your projective hand.” She hesitated, suddenly realizing the bracelet held a strong spell. Until this moment, the thrum of power from the node below this room had masked the magic vibrations. Now she was filled with an unknowing dread of that be-spelled bracelet. “Father, please don’t.” He took a menacing step toward her. “Ashlyn Marie Brightfire Toscano, by the power of your secret name, obey my command.” The spell of compulsion poured over her like liquid quist, draining away her ability to control her own body. Everything within her rebelled at the thought of allowing that cold metal to touch her skin, but her right arm rose. Careful to hold one edge of the bracelet in the folds of silk, he flicked the metal across her arm. Sparks flared at the contact. Cold, stinging fire raced through her blood. “N…” She couldn’t even voice a protest. Nodding, he spread the coil—fingers protected by the insulating silk—and wrapped the bracelet around her wrist. She felt it close against her skin like the poisonous embrace of a deadly drago-snake. “Listen closely, Brightfire,” he commanded—once more using her secret name to seal the spell more securely. “You will return to the house and remain inside until the night of the Grass Moons. Any attempt to move outside, even into the gardens, will cause you great pain.” He sketched a sign in the air releasing her from the 97

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paralysis, and she sagged in her chair. “Daughter, I say again—you will keep my secret…” Lightning flickered around his fingers, scorching the marble tabletop. “or suffer a lingering, tortured death.” *

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Back in her suite of rooms, Ashlyn found she could breathe more freely. Here, inside the house, the magicked bracelet lay quiescent. She wasn’t yet ready to test its limits. Ashlyn gazed out the open window at the sea and sky, already mourning the loss of her freedom. While she bathed in the fresh breeze flowing in through the magical screen that kept out insects, her thoughts went back to her father’s threat if she revealed his plans. She compared it with other times she’d defied him. He sure likes to use the threat of death, she mused. She’d forgotten the pooka had returned with her escort until he fluttered to the windowsill and stood there looking out, one hand braced on the frame. “Well, Marama Ashlyn,” he said in his high voice, “was a roll in the herb garden with your outlander worth the painful restrictions laid on you by Lord Toscano?” “Pooka snoop.” She turned on him so fiercely, he took a step backward, fell off the windowsill, and fluttered in place. “Do you dislike me so much you had to fly to my father with the news?” “I don’t have a reason to dislike you, Marama Ashlyn. If anything, I agree with the other non-humans in the compound 98

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when they say you treat them with understanding and dignity. Your fairy-dragon adores you, and her mate is already praising your bravery.” Nimbor flew in a tight a circle in the air. “Even touchy old Sizzoff in the kitchen holds you up as an example of a worthy human.” “Then why did you cause me trouble?” Still hovering in the air, he rubbed his chin, as if thinking. Then he grinned. “Hey, I’m a pooka, that’s why.” He turned a quick somersault in the air. “Who do you think unlocked the gate into the garden for your Basil Greenstorm?” *

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The days until the Grass Moons night passed quickly. Ashlyn had found by painful experiment that she couldn’t set a foot or hand beyond the house walls, but news filtered in from Drusilla, Pepper and Hawthorne, and the servants who went home every night. The tournaments to select the surrogate consort had begun and one challenger, Greenstorm d’Vortimer, dominated all the other contestants. For the first time since Maldoc’s reign began, a man had appeared who might defeat the powerful king and win the right to bed the surrogate Goddess— Ashlyn—in the great Night of the Grass Moons ceremony.

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CHAPTER 8 Basil stepped back and watched the warrior he’d just defeated limp away from the challenge ring. After a week of swordfight contests between warriors from all over Avalonia for the right to be the consort surrogate at the Grass Moons ceremony, this had been the semi-final combat. At sunset tonight, the winner would cross swords with the king for the honor of bedding the Goddess surrogate. As he cleaned his sword on a square of soft kut’n, Basil gazed across the trampled ring to the brightly canopied box seats on the grandstand, from which King Maldoc and his entourage had watched the series of encounters all day. Basil’s dragon senses tingled with the heavy presence of 100

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danger. Even before the first combat of today, he’d noticed the large number of soldiers stationed along the outer edge of the crowd. Was that usual for ceremonial gatherings here in New Caledon, or did the king expect trouble? After saluting the king with his raised sword, Basil strode to the pavilion set up for the fighters at the opposite end of the challenge circle. Earlier, the pavilion had been filled with combatants resting between bouts. Healers were there to treat wounds. Servants stood by with food and drink. Now Basil and the fighter he’d just defeated were the only remaining swordsmen. While he dabbed at a long cut on his arm with a clean cloth, he watched the healer bathe and apply salve to wounds on the other warrior’s shoulder and left arm. The fighter gave Basil a weak smile. “Hail to you, d’Vortimer.” He saluted with his right fist across his heart. “You defeated me in a fair fight.” “You also drew blood in a fair encounter.” Basil tipped his head toward the second healer who was cleaning his sword cut. The fighter studied Basil with an enigmatic expression, then gestured at the healers and servants. “Leave us,” he commanded. “Yes, my Lord Zenos.” The chief healer bowed and walked out of the closed pavilion, followed by the rest. “Impressive,” Basil commented. “They went without a murmur.” 101

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The warrior gave him a wry smile. “One of the advantages of being the first son of the Chief High Mage.” He indicated the padded stool abandoned by the healer. “My name is Farrel. Sit down and rest before your duel with the king. I want to warn you about him.” *

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Once again Ashlyn waited in her father’s office. Earlier that day he’d removed the bracelet that had kept her bound to the house. This time she awaited his approval of her appearance and his final instructions before she left the Toscano compound to go to the ceremony of the Grass Moons and her life mate. Life mate, she mused. If only it were Basil, but that she wouldn’t know until she stood on the sacred circle and watched the high priestess crown the victor. Her father had put a spell on the house preventing any mention of the challengers’ identities. In spite of the restriction, Pepper had brought the latest news. ::The man from the ocean waves has won the honor to fight the king,:: she’d said, identifying Basil as surely as if she’d said his name. Now, as sunset and the final combat to choose the consort surrogate drew close, she could only pray her beloved would win against impossible odds—the magic and might of King Maldoc. Determined to be brave for Basil’s sake, she strengthened her outer appearance of serene composure. No matter the 102

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outcome tonight, she’d never return to her father’s home. *

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Basil stood three steps outside the north side of the raised sacred white marble circle near one of the gold and white tapers placed there for the nighttime ceremony. His sword, retrieved from the bandits, rested tip down on the ground with the quillions between his hands. Earlier, after his talk with Farrel, the defeated challenger had left, and the servants had returned with a copper tub they filled with warm water for Basil. He’d bathed and dressed in the ceremonial gold-and-white short lava-lava, his chest left bare, ready for the final confrontation. Across the circle King Maldoc, also dressed in the ceremonial lava-lava, waited with unsheathed sword. Basil studied the king’s weapon, especially the deep red ruby, the size of an infant’s fist, set into its pommel. Farrel, the firstborn son of Zenos, had warned about the magical gem, saying light reflected from it into an opponent’s eyes cast a spell of confusion over the unlucky fighter. According to the rules, magic was forbidden during the duel. Everything Basil had learned about the king pointed to an arrogant, power-hungry ruler who got what he wanted by fair means or foul. Maldoc wanted Ashlyn—not for herself, according to Farrel—but as a means to gain more power. Thanks to the warning, Basil would be alert to the forbidden magic. 103

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Basil watched the crowd grow as the sun dipped lower toward the ocean. More soldiers than earlier moved through the crowd. This was supposed to be a peaceful religious event, he thought. Supposedly the only bloodshed would be in the duel for Ashlyn. The sound of trumpets and drums announced the appearance of the Goddess surrogate and her court of dancers. Ignoring the priestess of the moons and all the other participants, he gazed at Ashlyn, drinking in the wonder of her graceful, lush body lovingly defined by the white-and-gold sarong. She wore a lei of creamy white dreamflowers and a matching wreath around her brow. Hawthorne had told him about the indignities she’d suffered in her own home. His gaze sought her wrist, where the damned bracelet had rested that held her prisoner to her father, as surely as the bandits’ ropes had fastened her to the blister tree. The metallic coils were gone, but his dragon senses detected a faint ring of abraded skin and an even fainter taste of magic. One more mark against her father. He watched her pause at the base of the marble steps leading up to the temple porch. The sun, low in the sky, bathed her in a golden radiance. The rays shimmered in the pale blonde hair tumbling down her back. He wanted to bury his hands in the luxuriant strands as he stretched his naked body against hers. Forget the duel, he wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to safety—to a place where they could touch each other and be touched; where he could bury his face 104

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between her thighs and sip her woman’s honey; where he could feast on her breasts, then plunge his cock into her slit and bring them both to a hot, sweaty orgasm. Damn. Basil shifted to ease the pressure on his log of flesh and curled his fingers tighter around the sword grip. He had to keep tight control over his body and save his energy for the coming confrontation. Ashlyn’s life and his depended on defeating King Maldoc and their escape from Avalonia. Even at this distance, the fitful breeze carried her complex scent to his dragon senses. Under the faint musk of her delicate feminine fragrance, he caught the sharp note of apprehension. But, in spite of her inner turmoil, she looked composed. His heart swelled with pride. This was his woman— Ashlyn, who’d saved him from the waves. Ashlyn, the dream lover who rocked his senses with her passion and filled his soul with her bravery. She bowed to the king and then to him before moving gracefully up to where chairs had been placed for her and her entourage. Once Ashlyn was settled, the priestess of the moons stood, announced the name of the combatants, and declared, “To the glory of the Goddess and consort, let the duel begin.” *

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Ashlyn held her breath as Basil and Maldoc advanced toward each other, their swords moving in complex patterns. When she’d first seen Basil after two interminably long 105

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weeks, she’d fought to hide her reaction. Every nerve had been brought to shimmering life and the blood beat between her thighs the way it had when they’d made love. She noticed the bandage around her beloved’s arm while the king appeared well-rested and strong, and why not? He hadn’t battled for his life the past week like Basil had done. Goddess protect you Basil and guide your sword. Clasping her hands to hide their trembling, she watched the two men come together in a clash of swords. They fought furiously, the sharp metal ringing and flashing in the setting sun. Great streamers of gold and red-tinged clouds flared across the sky dividing the pale blue and yellow of the horizon over the ocean with the deep blue of coming twilight high overhead. To the east, Qamar and Zurir were pale promises of their nighttime glory. One of the male dancers in the entourage said, “The king’s moving the outlander around to the west—a foolish move— Maldoc will have the sun in his eyes.” Another one said proudly, “Not foolish—strategic. Our king’s sword is named Confusion for the spell it casts on his enemies.” “I thought using magic in this contest was against the rules,” the first man said. “The king is above rules.” Magic. Ashlyn caught her breath when a flash of red from the king’s sword danced across Basil’s face. Basil shook his head, then leaped aside, barely missing the 106

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slash from Maldoc’s blade. As Ashlyn muffled a scream, she saw the red light again, but this time Basil avoided it. With a series of strike, advance, and retreat strokes, he changed his position and backed Maldoc toward the north side of the circle. The king fought back furiously, hacking at Basil with a rapid series of slash and thrust. No matter where Maldoc’s sword went, Basil either melted away at the last moment or deflected the sharp metal with his own blade. Minutes seemed like hours. Ashlyn’s heart leaped or quivered with every sword stroke, and the crowd cheered or groaned as the combat between the evenly-matched opponents continued. Ashlyn noticed the palace guardsmen working their way through the mass of people to form a circle only steps away from the raised sacred platform. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Basil swept his sword through a dazzling pattern of moves that trapped Maldoc’s blade and sent it flying across the polished marble. Setting the point of his weapon at the king’s throat, he said in an authoritative voice that carried to the temple porch and the far ends of the crowd, “Do you, King Maldoc, yield the position of consort surrogate to me, Basil Greenstorm d’Vortimer?” Instead of following the traditional pattern of the loser conceding victory to the winner, the king said, “Let the Goddess surrogate decide.” Rising, Ashlyn slipped one arm through the lei of silvery107

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green dreamflower leaves and the wreath of thyme and mint, meant for this night’s consort to her part as Goddess. Followed by the high priestess, she hurried down the stairs and across the marble ring to Basil and Maldoc. Basil held the tip of his sword an unwavering hand’sbreadth from Maldoc’s throat. Arrogantly the king snarled, “Give me the winner’s lei and wreath, girl. You are my promised bride.” “I was your promised bride, until you broke your most sacred oath to use no magic in the dueling circle.” “It’s my right as king,” he blustered. “No.” The priestess stepped forward. “Not even a king is exempt from the laws set down by the Goddess. You are an oath-breaker.” Turning her back on Maldoc, she retrieved the wreath from Ashlyn and faced Basil. “Lord d’Vortimer,” she said, in a loud, carrying voice, holding high the sacred ring of herbs, “you have been victorious and honorable in all challenges, including this final duel.” She placed the wreath on his head saying, “I declare you the winner of the tournament of duels and the surrogate consort for tonight.” She turned to Ashlyn with a smile. “You may finish preparing your consort for the ceremony.” Basil relinquished his sword to the priestess and went down on both knees in front of Ashlyn, gazing up at her. Her skin tingled and her heart raced at the chained heat in his eyes. Every fiber of her being longed to throw herself into 108

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his embrace—to strip off her sarong and press her naked body to his—mouth to mouth, skin to skin. “Marama,” the priestess murmured gently, recalling Ashlyn to the ceremony, “your consort is waiting.” “Of course.” Ashlyn searched her memory for the carefully rehearsed words. “Lord d’Vortimer”—she draped the lei around his strong neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead—“receive the second and third symbols of your victory.” As she spoke, sunset faded into twilight and the drums of the Grass Moons ceremony began to throb. Rising to his feet, Basil slipped an arm around Ashlyn’s waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and they watched as the brighter stars winked into view. From the corner of her eye, she saw the temple acolytes place the thick pallet, draped in a white silken cover, on the gold moon in the center of the marble floor. Soon she and Basil would join their bodies to celebrate the fullness of life. By now, both moons were high in the sky. But not even the combined radiance of Qamar and Zurir, both full, could dim the stars outlining the constellation of the Great Basket and the companion sheaf of Lemon Grass stars below. “It’s time,” she said softly, looking up into Basil’s face as she sank deeper into the role of female to his male, goddess to his consort. With a gesture, she lit the tapers ringing the sacred circle. As the slender flames flared high, a harsh voice shouted, “Seize the traitors by order of the king.” 109

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Basil didn’t have time to curse the king’s betrayal. He swept up his sword that had been left beside the pallet as a symbol of strength and protection, and drew Ashlyn behind him. “Stay close, but out of my sword-stroke range so I know where you are.” Then he prepared to fight—and, if necessary, die—for the woman he loved. *

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Ashlyn, back to back with Basil, watched the palace guardsmen advance out of the night-bound crowd and up the ring of steps to the temple platform. The circle of lit tapers and moonshine from Qamar and Zurir illuminated the white marble area, but the surrounding dark hid the movements of the fighters until they reached the platform level. “I need more light,” Basil muttered. “Watch your vision,” she warned. Gathering her power to form globes of illumination, she set four in rapid succession high above the crowd. Then, as she had in the bandit’s camp, she made and threw bright globes at the guardsmen as they reached the platform. The exploding balls dazzled the warriors, but only left them blinded for moments as more fighters pressed forward. Her gift of fire raged through her blood, but she couldn’t set it loose to incinerate innocent people in the crowd. She sensed Basil was hard-pressed to keep the growing circle of warriors at bay. She knew he needed enough time to shift to dragon so he 110

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could carry them both out of danger. Why doesn’t the high priestess call on the Goddess to stop the king? Ashlyn watched warily as four guardsmen worked their way around closer to her. She hurled globes of light at them, only to see the brilliance absorbed into an invisible shield. Maldoc and a figure clothed in the robes of a high mage stood near one edge of the platform. The priestess stood rigid, hands at her sides, between the two men. A coiled silver bracelet glimmered on one wrist, and Ashlyn realized the woman was trapped in a powerful spell. There’d be no help from her. While the mage sketched spells in the air, the king raised the handle of his sword with the gem facing her. The red stone caught and reflected radiant beams from one of her light globes. Ashlyn ducked to one side to avoid the magic spell. Trapped by the pallet, she bumped against Basil. “Ashlyn?” He steadied her with one hand. “I’m okay.” She yanked the silken cover off the thick pad, took five strides toward the closest line of guardsmen, and tossed the fabric in their faces. Scrambling backward to her position behind Basil, she heard the king yell, “Kill the man and capture the bitch, you fuckin’ cowards, or I’ll have your balls ripped off with hot pincers.” She hurled three more radiant globes, only to watch them melt into the magical shield. 111

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The only defense now was actual fire. Sickened by the idea of burning these men who were just doing their duty to the king, she raised her hands and called the fire in her body clamoring for release. With a cry of, “Burn,” she sent flames dancing toward the fighters. They shouted and gave ground, then surged back, only to be stopped by a fresh wave of flames. Ashlyn’s breath came hard. Her chest ached. Her arms quivered with the effort to keep them raised. A few fighters broke through. Basil beat them back, while Ashlyn struggled against the growing power of spells cast by the mage. Just when it seemed she’d established a temporary ring of protection around her and Basil, another voice joined the high mage. The ultimate betrayal—her own father stood beside Maldoc. Through the flames, she saw him sketch a sign in the air. Her right wrist throbbed as if the be-spelled bracelet was still coiled against her skin. Basil gripped her shoulders from behind. His warm breath fanned her neck as he asked, “Can you hold the fire spell a little longer? I’ll shift and get us to safety.” “No, it’s too dangerous,” she gasped. “If they break through before the change is complete…” “My essence will be scattered to the winds.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I have to take the chance.” “Not yet,” she begged. “I need your help—your energy 112

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against my father.” “The bastard.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. She felt a fresh surge of energy. “I’ll stay until the last possible minute,” he promised. “Then I’ll take my chances and make the change, for both our sakes.” “Goddess, help us.” Suddenly the night air was filled with the rich scent of dreamflowers and roses. “Thank you, Goddess,” Ashlyn whispered. Wearily, in spite of the spurt of energy from Basil, Ashlyn gathered her personal power. Fire danced at the tips of her fingers and she renewed the slender ring of flames guarding them. That protection would soon fail unless she channeled the rest of her energy—even her life force—into holding it long enough for Basil to safely shift. She heard her father begin to chant another spell. Ashlyn turned to Basil. “I love you, dearling. Remember me when…” Pepper popped into view, followed by Hawthorne. ::We’ve brought help,:: she announced. The moment the fairy-dragon finished speaking, a rush of wings filled the air. Flights of fairy-dragons followed a curving path overhead. More fairy-dragons rose from the shoulders of people in the crowd to join the circling throng. The ever-widening parade of flyers, in a myriad of colors—blue, green, silver, red—even Ustim’s brown-andgold male, filled the night with their ringing calls. Forming into a spiral, they dropped toward the center of the sacred 113

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circle and made a solid wall of bodies surrounding Basil and Ashlyn. “Shift, while you have the time,” she urged. “Will you come with me? Live with me? Dream with me?” “Always.” She watched him disappear in a swirl of glittering goldand-green mist. Her own body felt sparkly and light. A closed door opened in her mind. In a breathtaking moment she knew what to do…and shifted. *

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Basil Greenstorm d’Vortimer, dragonshifter, king’s warrior, and newly married man stepped out onto the south balcony of his brother’s home in the first rays of morning sunlight. Although he’d just left Ashlyn sleeping in their bridal bed, his cock was halfway erect at just the thought of the many times they’d made love the previous night. At a slight noise and a familiar, enticing fragrance, he turned from the view of distant, snow-capped mountains. A far more seductive attraction stood in the open door. “Ashlyn, sweetheart.” He strode toward her and caught her in the air as she flung herself into his arms. Cradling her supple body, he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling her warm, womanly scent. Her pale blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders. Shimmering locks curled and clung to him—binding them together with delicate strands. 114

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“Take me back to bed, my life mate,” she whispered. “Gods, yes.” He carried her across the thick, cazwool rugs to the large carved fire oak bed, set her gently on the mattress, and knelt beside her. Early morning sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows and bathed her nude body framed by a half-open, silky pale-blue robe. As he watched her breasts swell and her nipples tighten into rosy peaks, he recalled the first time he’d kissed and tasted her lips, her breasts, and her lush, flowing yoni. “Mine,” he breathed, resting one hand between her breasts. “Mine.” He cupped her between her thighs. “Yours, all yours,” she said, and rose to her knees in the center of the tumbled blankets. Slipping out of her robe, she laced her fingers with his other hand and drew it up, palm-topalm. Following her lead, he linked both his hands with hers, raised them high, and leaned in to rub his bare chest slowly back and forth across her swollen nipples. Her breath quickened. She arched her spine, thrusting her breasts against him, giving—and by her body language— inviting him to do whatever he desired. Her sensual surrender aroused him almost brutally. Go slow, he ordered himself. Make it last. Lowering his head, he savored the taste and satiny skin of her breast and explored the change in texture when his tongue followed the apricot areola circling her tip. He kissed her nipple, then drew it into his mouth and sucked the pebbled 115

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berry. With each pull of his mouth, her muscles quivered and her fingers tightened in his. He released that glistening nipple and moved to the other one, sucking and soothing the tight, lush tip, while she slowly twisted and her breath hitched in her throat. His self-control threatened to crumble at her sexy little cries. Reluctantly he raised his head and gazed at her expression of wild abandonment. “Life mate…” He dipped in to kiss her lips. “Last night we explored the flash and fire of making love.” “I loved it.” She nuzzled her cheek against their raised arms. “I love you.” “Darling”—he peppered her face with kisses—“this morning is a time for tenderness.” Carefully he laid her out flat on her back with her arms still over her head, and eased down on top of her—covering her from fingertips to toes. He rode the rise and fall of her chest and felt her steady heartbeat. *

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Ashlyn stretched under Basil’s body, loving the closeness, savoring the reality of a man’s protection for his mate. She gazed up into his eyes, darkened with emotion, and shivered in delight at the hot promise churning in their depths. In a low, intimate tone he said, “Part your thighs just enough for me to pierce your sweet yoni.” Lost in his sensual aura, she opened to his gliding thrust. 116

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His hot, thick cock slid slowly up and down between her thighs, rubbing her clit into throbbing sensitivity. He paused, his dick buried in her sheath, and lifted himself a little above her on his forearms. Passion scrambled her pulse as he searched her with his seductive gaze. “Sweetheart”—his rich voice sent flames through her blood—“I love the look in your eyes when I kiss you like this.” Lowering his mouth to hers, he traced her lips with his tongue. She opened to his insistent pressure. He gently nibbled on her upper lip, while marvelous, pulsing sensations zipped through her body and tingled in her clit. Heat, pressure, and a hungry need flared between her legs. He flexed his hips again, tantalizing her with his rigid cock. Then he spread the fingers of his right hand across her hip and locked her close as he rolled them both onto their sides. They lay together, still stretched out, their bodies pressed skin to every inch of sensitive skin—and his male shaft nestled in her hot sheath. A new surge of love swept through her heart, a love so primal, so great she could barely breathe. Staring into his green eyes flecked with gold, she whispered, “My life mate… my dragon.” “My life mate,” he repeated in a voice thick with emotion. “You’re a wonder. When we met in our dreams, I didn’t know how much more you’d be in reality.” His warm breath swirled and blended with hers. They inhaled and exhaled in unison. With each exchange of air, 117

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Ashlyn felt her passion flare higher. She squeezed her internal muscles around Basil’s cock and pressed her pelvis tighter against his, drawing him farther inside. With a hungry growl, he rolled over onto his back, placing her on top. She looked down into his taut, flushed face, then followed his gaze to where they joined. Their eyes met again. His cock twitched inside her and a sensation swept through her so powerful she trembled. “Great, isn’t it?” He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Rock forward and kiss me.” “Like this?” She leaned down, her breasts pressing against his hard chest, and tasted the hot, musky flavor of his throat before moving on to his mouth. As she sat up, he cupped her breasts in his big hands and rubbed his thumbs across her engorged nipples. She rocked forward and back again. His cock touched the secret places inside her slick channel. Goddess, it felt marvelous. “Ashlyn, more,” he said on a gasp. She rose a short space on her knees, then seated deeper— rose and fell, up and down, riding her dragon—as he gripped the tumbled bedding and groaned her name. His sensual sounds fired her passion higher. “Deeper, I need you deeper,” she cried. “I…hear you,” he said in a ragged tone. The world spun around her and she was on her back with her knees bent and drawn up, her thighs wide apart. In this position, she was totally open to him. Kneeling, he cupped her hips in his hands, tilting her 118

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vagina to just the right angle, and brushed his long cock across her sensitive flesh. “Wider,” he instructed. She placed her hands on either side of her thighs, drawing them farther apart, and watched him push himself inside her— each delicious inch a throbbing caress. He began to pump his long cock inside her in a faster rhythm. His arm and chest muscles slid under his gleaming skin in well-oiled power. “Basil…Greenstorm…dragon, I love to watch your body move in and out of mine,” she said. He lowered his head so he could watch his cock move in her body. “Yes,” he said, going deeper with each thrust. “Yes.” His rhythm faltered. He threw back his head and began moving harder, faster, with a force that rocked her and ground her butt into the thick blankets. Everything in the room narrowed down to that one point where he rammed into her. The coil of need exploded in her. She screamed. Her fingers dug into her thighs, holding her wide open as the orgasm rolled through her, over and over. Above her, Basil cried out. He slammed into her one more time and filled her with a long, hot flow of seed. Basil collapsed on her. She let go of her thighs to wrap her arms and legs around his damp body. They were still joined. His heart pounded in his chest. She lay quietly. The rush of ecstasy had passed, but the inner muscles of her sheath moving around his cock filled her 119

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with delicate ripples of pleasure. Her heart overflowed with her love for this brave man, this tender warrior who’d mated with her for life. Raising his head, he touched her cheek. “Am I hurting you?” “Everything’s wonderful.” “Good.” He placed a tender kiss on her mouth, then pulled out of her body and lay beside her, one arm tucked around her waist. As she drifted into sleep in the quiet of their bridal chamber, she felt him draw a cover over them. *

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Basil woke just past noon and slipped out of bed without disturbing Ashlyn. He gazed at his life mate, filled with an amazing sense of completeness. In her, he’d found everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. By the time he’d bathed and dressed, Ashlyn had risen and slipped into her robe. He was tempted to take her back to bed, but they had one more part of their journey to accomplish before sunset. An hour later, they had finished eating a light lunch and went to give their thanks to his brother and sister-in-law. After greeting Pepper and Hawthorne on the balcony, then stood with their arms around each other, looking out across the farms and orchards, and the shapeshifter dragons swooping through the sky, to the distant mountains. He loved his family, but he could hardly wait to take Ashlyn to their own home. 120

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After the fairy-dragon mates took to the sky to begin the trip, Basil gave his wife a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to see our new home today?” “Anytime.” She kissed him and then wiggled out of his arms. “Can we go now?” “Yes, now.” He triggered his change in his mind and watched his wife’s form dissolve as well into a swirl of colors. Moments later, as they rose into the blue skies of Cymbria, he turned toward the mountains with his dainty lady flying beside him. The sunlight rippled across her dazzling white hide and woke a rainbow of colors. Tonight they’d sleep together in their own home and explore the heat and reality of their carnal dreams.

121

APRIL REID

April Reid is the pseudonym for award-winning author Barbara Clark, who wanted to stretch her writing skills into the romantica genre. Readers will find the same quality in stories by “April,” as they have come to expect in stories by “Barbara.” The only difference is the stories will be more steamy and over-the-top. Always, they will be actionfilled…in more ways than one. You can visit her website at http://www.april-reid.com. *

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Don’t miss Dark Passion, by April Reid, available at AmberHeat.com! Desert Rose Golden Quill Awards Finalist— Best Science Fiction/Fantasy/Futuristic!

When Rahim Al Sayyed, Sultan of Aradi, sees the flame-haired Alyssa Palonui standing in chains on the slaver’s block, he makes the highest bid, telling himself it’s to save her from the vicious owner of a brothel. Rahim doesn’t know she’s a princess of Oceanus and betrothed to his deadly enemy—the one who caused his father’s death.

As they journey across planet Traber, into the enemy’s stronghold, and the cave of night-flying dragons, Alyssa and Rahim explore growing paranormal gifts and the deep, dark passions hidden in each other’s heart, mind, and soul.

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