Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

  He stirred, but his eyes didn’t open.

  She decided she wasn’t going to wait. Catching his cock in one hand, she swooped her mouth down over its tight, flushed head in one eager gulp.

  Llyr was in the middle of another confused dream—his body’s reaction to his bedmate’s pheromones warring with his guilt over his bodyguards’ deaths—when hot, wet pleasure jolted him awake.

  He opened his eyes to the sight of Diana’s mouth engulfing his shaft inch by delicious, teasing inch.

  For a moment, all he could do was lay there, his brain reeling at the sizzling eroticism of the moment. Then she paused midway down his shaft and sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed, and he thought the top of his head was going to blow off.

  Llyr groaned, the sound heartfelt and tormented. Diana lifted her head, releasing his cock with a wet pop, and gave him an impish grin. “Good morning.”

  He had to swallow before he could answer. “It certainly has been so far.”

  “Glad you approve.” She bent her head and sucked him back in again, one slim, possessive hand cupping his balls.

  Llyr found himself digging his fingers into the mattress as he fought not to come. “You know,” he gasped, “if you have plans of me being any good at all to you, it might be wise to stop.” A particularly hard pull forced him to add, “Now.”

  Diana lifted her head. “Why, Majesty. Am I getting to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She bent again. Before she could swoop his cock back down her seductive throat, he grabbed her by the shoulder, flipped her over, and pounced. As sternly as he could considering his aching erection, he growled, “Enough!”

  Diana considered the question. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

  “Wanton.” He took her mouth in an act of sheer self-defense.

  She rumbled in silken approval, arching her lithe body against him. Her lips tasted so sweet he couldn’t resist lingering.

  Llyr kissed her slowly with famished heat. She moaned into his mouth and slid her arms around his waist, simultaneously opening her legs to him. He settled into the warm cradle of her hips with a happy sigh and kept right on kissing her.

  Diana’s rose-petal lips were just as skilled as they were soft. She kissed him in gentle nibbles, suckling softly at his lower lip, swirling her tongue around his. Llyr had kissed countless women over his long life, but he’d never realized how delicately erotic the act was.

  He loved the way she felt, undulating against him like a cat demanding a petting. He adored the wet, soft heat of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the slim strength of her body under his. Experienced seducer though he was, it all seemed as entrancing as if he was a virgin, lost in the sheer, sweet pleasure of passion for the first time.

  Llyr was so absorbed in the simple pleasure of her mouth, long minutes went by before he decided to seek the rest of her body.

  Diana had gone to bed wearing that T-shirt and a tiny pair of silk panties, but even that felt like too great a barrier to his starving body. He reared off her just enough to give himself room to push the hem of her shirt up, baring her small, delectable breasts. Her nipples were a tight and eager pink.

  Llyr stopped and just looked at them for a long moment, admiring the way they rode the gentle mounds. “You’re so lovely,” he said in a low voice.

  “You’re not bad yourself, Tinkerstud.”

  “‘Tinkerstud?’ Should I ask you what that means?”

  Diana laughed, the sound a bit ragged with hunger. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I think I should teach you to have a little more respect.” He looked down at those tempting nipples. “Later.” Bending, he sucked one into his mouth. It stabbed his tongue, as deliciously firm as a grape. Ravenous, he drew on it in deep, slow pulls, circling his tongue over and around the tiny peak.

  Cupping the other breast in his hand, he closed his eyes in pleasure at the satin sensation of her flesh, so warm and soft in his. She made an approving little rumbling sound, and he caught her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Carefully, he tugged, enjoying the way she caught her breath. When he rolled the tip back and forth between his fingers, she pumped her hips against him pleadingly.

  He lifted his mouth from the nipple he was pleasuring. She met his gaze, her eyes wide, pale and unfocused with the force of her need. “More?” he asked softly, teasingly.

  “God, yes.” Diana wrapped her legs around his waist. As she moved, the feral perfume of her lust teased his senses. It was his turn to pant as his hunger spiraled. Reaching a hand down, he wrapped his fingers in the waistband of her panties and twisted. Silk tore.

  She laughed even as she pushed her head back into the pillow in extravagant pleasure. “You’re murder on my underwear, you know that?”

  “I’ll magic you more as soon as my powers come back.” Hungry to learn if she was as wet as she smelled, Llyr eased his hips up enough to give himself room to probe her sex with his fingers.

  He found her just as richly slick as he was hard. Her snug little channel gripped his index finger, obviously yearning for something thicker. His cock throbbed, eager to oblige.

  Pulling off her, Llyr sat back on his heels, knowing he needed a moment to cool off. He was far too close to spending.

  Dragon’s Breath, she was beautiful. She smiled up at him, her pale wolf eyes bright with cheerful passion, her lips curled into a smile. Her short hair was completely disordered from rubbing against a pillow all night. It stood straight up in a crown of dark, waving curls that curled his lips into a besotted smile.

  But the demanding throb in his balls wanted even more. With a growl, Llyr scooped her delicious behind off the sheets, draped her knees over the crook of his elbows, and positioned her over his aching cock. For a moment he hesitated, just looking down at her bounty, so pink and wet and nakedly erotic. “Dragon’s Breath, you drive me insane.”

  “You have the same effect on me.” Her smile was hot and wicked. “Why don’t you start getting all that cock in me? Now’s good.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Taking his erection in hand, Llyr slowly, deliciously, began to work his way inside.

  Her tight little sex welcomed him with snug, slick walls. The first inch was almost enough to make him come, but somehow he held on. He slid deeper, listening to her heartfelt moans of pleasure as he went.

  The challenge only got greater when Llyr was finally in to the balls. As his groin settled against her velvety backside, he hoped he could last long enough to give her what she needed. Teeth clenched, he began the slow, delicious withdrawal.

  “God, Llyr,” she gasped. “You feel so good!”

  “May I—ah!—say the same, my lady.”

  She bucked once, violently. “You’re making me crazy. Please—more!”

  The sensation of her burning, wet-satin heat clamping around him as she ground her hips snapped his control like a lute string. With a growl, he began to ride her, lunging hard in her delicious grip. He could feel his orgasm getting ready to break, but he clenched his teeth and fought it. He was damn well going to hold on long enough to share it with her.

  Diana did not wait passively. She tightened her muscled legs, dragging him close and deeper as she hunched against him. Slim fingers tangled in his hair. “Harder!” she gritted.

  “As my lady commands!” He braced his fists on the mattress and pounded, his pelvis slapping against hers.

  “Yes! Oh, yes, that’s it!” Her eyes stared up into his, dazed with passion, her mouth swollen with his kisses. Llyr knew he’d never seen a woman more beautiful, not even the ones he’d married.

  Fire roared over him. He tumbled willingly, stiffening as he came, emptying his balls into her in burning pulses. She writhed against him, her legs gripping his backside hard, holding him deep. “Llyr!”

  “Yes! Diana!”

  He came until his trembling arms would no longer hold him braced. Until he collapsed into her arms to hold on to her as the electric jolts of pleasure faded.
>
  “Well,” Diana said hoarsely when she was capable of speech, “that’s one way to kick off a weekend.”

  “Does that mean you approve?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He rolled off her with a groan and collapsed onto his back, only to immediately reach over and haul her into his arms, draping her across his chest like a scarf. With a collective sigh, they settled into comfortable bliss.

  His heartbeat thundered in her ears. Their skin felt damp and sweaty with delicious effort. Time spun away.

  Long moments passed before Diana had the strength to lift her head again. There were still leaves in his hair from the night before. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need a shower. And somebody needs to currycomb that mane of yours.”

  “Currycomb?”

  She flashed a grin at him. “Seems appropriate for a stallion.” Rolling off the bed and onto her feet, she looked down at him. He sprawled in brawny, exhausted masculinity and didn’t even stir. “Come on, Llyr. Hi ho, Silver.”

  He cracked an opalescent eye. “That sounds like another obscure mortal reference.”

  She snickered. “I need to park you in front of the television and make you watch TV Land for a couple hundred hours. We have got to do something about that appalling cultural ignorance.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call whatever you mortals have ‘culture.’” Llyr raked his hair out of his face and grimaced when his hand caught in a tangle. He flicked his fingers in an attempted spell and scowled when it failed. “My powers are still gone. And my hair is a dragon’s nest.”

  “That’s why we ignorant, uncultured mortals invented the comb. Come on, I’ll wash it for you. It’ll be easier to work with wet.”

  It didn’t take Llyr long to grasp the erotic potential of a shower, particularly when combined with mounds of shampoo lather. Diana soon found herself pressed against the tiled wall with her legs wrapped around his waist while he pounded them both to another dizzying climax. By the time they staggered out again, the water was cold and her thigh muscles were quivering.

  “Mortal plumbing leaves much to be desired,” Llyr told her with a groan as she handed him a towel.

  When he stared at it, clueless, she took it from his hand and started briskly toweling him off. “I’m deeply sorry I didn’t foresee the need for a hot water heater big enough to let you work your way through the Kama Sutra. Do you ever do anything without using magic? Where did you get these muscles?”

  “Sword practice and hunting.”

  “What, you don’t just fry the poor little beasties with a fireball?”

  “Magic leaves an unpleasant aftertaste in the meat.”

  She stared. “You’re kidding me.”

  Llyr smirked. “Mortals are so gullible.”

  “Remind me to take you hunting for a rare, endangered Earth creature. It’s called a snipe.”

  “Does it breathe fire?”

  Diana shot him a disgusted look as she grabbed a fresh towel and started drying herself off. “Sucker. Kids take other kids out in the woods and use the lure of a snipe hunt to get them to run around after rustling bushes in the dark. But I’ve gotta ask—do most of the things you hunt breathe fire?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “A few of them breathe acid.”

  Diana stopped and stared. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “I haven’t touched your leg. But I am deeply interested in your breasts.” He reached for a nipple.

  She stepped nimbly away. “It’s a figure of speech, pervert. It means you’re playing a joke on me.”

  “Ah. No, I am quite serious.” He watched her breasts bob as she finished toweling herself. “After all, if I never did anything but lie about and work magic, how would I defend my people against genuine threats? I might freeze the first time I was in danger.”

  “That makes sense.” Though it was harder to imagine Llyr frozen with terror than it was to picture an acid-breathing magical monster. She lowered the commode lid and turned to get a brush and comb from a drawer. “Have a seat. We need to get started on that mane of yours before it dries.”

  After persuading him to sit sideways on the toilet lid, she stepped up against his broad back, picked up a silken hank of his hair, and went to work. “Seems to me fighting mystical fire-breathing critters is the kind of activity that would drive your bodyguard nuts.”

  “Actually, it’s not as dangerous as you might think. So many Sidhe turn out to watch, if I did get seriously hurt, someone would heal me.”

  He fell silent. Diana discovered a complicated snarl and concentrated on combing it out. There was something deeply sensual about coaxing the wet, gleaming mass to straighten out and lie flat down his broad back. “You know,” she said, stroking the brush through his hair, “something’s been bugging me. What’s Ansgar’s problem with you, anyway? Why does he keep trying to kill you? And why kill your wives and children?”

  Llyr shrugged. “He wants both kingdoms. Besides, he’s hated me since the day I was born.”

  “Sibling rivalry?”

  “And because of this.” He extended his uninjured shoulder, drawing her attention to an intricate dragon curled around his biceps.

  Diana bent closer to admire it. The detail was so exquisitely fine, each iridescent scale shimmered as if alive. She took a sniff and whistled soundlessly. “You know, whatever took your powers obviously didn’t affect this tattoo. I can still smell the magic.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a tattoo. I was born with it—it’s the Dragon’s Mark. And yes, it’s definitely magic. For thousands of years, one son of each generation of my line has been born with this. It’s called the Mark of Heroes, and it means that, at least in theory, I can call on Cachamwri in my hour of greatest peril.”

  She blinked, impressed. “The God of Dragons? Cool.”

  “You’ve heard of him?”

  “Oh, yeah. My grandfather loved to tell all kinds of stories about the Mageverse, the Sidhe, and the Magekind. He especially loved the ones about Dragonkind and Cachamwri.”

  “Did he tell you how Galatyn the First helped save Cachamwri from Uchdryd the Dark One?”

  “No, but I’m always up for a story.” She picked a waterlogged twig out of his hair.

  Llyr settled back against her with the air of a man getting ready to tell an old and favored tale. “When the Dark Ones first came to this world, they invaded Mageverse Earth first. In those days, the Sidhe were as mortal as humans…”

  “Yeah? How did you become immortal?”

  “I will get to that. As I said, the Sidhe were much like our human cousins then, mortal and prolific, though unlike them, we had evolved welding magic. Still, we did not have the strength to fend off the Dark Ones. But the dragons of our world did, and they had no interest in sharing Sidhe Earth with such as the Dark Ones.”

  “Judging from what I’ve heard about that bunch, I don’t blame them.”

  “Indeed. The Dark Ones were just as unpleasant to Dragonkind as they were to humans, killing and torturing as they chose. So Cachamwri, King of the Dragons—he was not yet a god then—decided to lead his people against the Dark Ones.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Yes, but unfortunately, the attack was repelled and Cachamwri was captured.”

  “Ouch. Bet that got ugly.”

  “It did. He was imprisoned deep inside the fortress of the Dark Ones’ high general, Uchdryd, where he was tortured and starved. It was there that my ancestor found him—Galatyn the First, who had slipped into the fortress with a party of his raiders to take revenge for the death of his woman.”

  “Oooh. Romantic. What happened to her?”

  “That’s a story for another time. As I was saying, Galatyn found Cachamwri in the dungeon. Now, the dragons and the Sidhe had always been enemies, but Galatyn put aside his hate in favor of forming an alliance. He worked a spell with the dragon, giving him the power to break free. Then he and Cachamwri went throug
h the fortress and killed every Dark One they could find, with the Dragon absorbing the life force the aliens had stolen from his people.”

  “Poetic justice.”

  “Indeed. By the time they slew Uchdryd himself, Cachamwri had absorbed so much magic, he’d become a god. The remaining Dark Ones fled to Mortal Earth, and he chose not to pursue them. Instead, he rewarded the Sidhe by making them immortal. In gratitude, our tribe adopted Cachamwri’s name and made Galatyn their king. But that wasn’t the end of his honors, for Cachamwri put a mark on him so that the Dragon God would always recognize the heroes of his line. From then on, my people have been allies with the dragons, and certain chosen Galatyn males have been born the Heir to Heroes. The Dragon’s Mark obliges them to serve Cachamwri at his call, but he also vows to lend us his power in our hour of greatest peril.”

  Suddenly a great deal was very clear. “Ansgar didn’t get the mark. And you did.”

  “Exactly. He was two hundred years old when I was born with Cachamwri’s brand, and he hated me from then on.”

  “Considering his personality, it’s amazing he didn’t arrange for you to meet with some unpleasant accident in childhood.”

  Llyr shrugged. “I probably would have, but Ansgar believed our father favored him, mark or no. It was only as Dearg lay dying that the terms of our inheritance were revealed.”

  “So why haven’t you just taken him out? Under the circumstances, it sounds as if you’d be justified.”

  “Perhaps, but my father had no intention of allowing it. He laid a deathbed curse on us. If either of us tried to kill the other with magic, the curse would kill him instantly.”

  Diana gave him an incredulous look. “But the curse doesn’t kick in if Ansgar uses assassins?”

  “No, but my father ordered the elders of both kingdoms to repudiate whichever of us kills the other.”

  “Dearg didn’t realize Ansgar would attempt it anyway and just try to cover it up?”