Table of Contents
The Isle of Eternal Happiness
Book Details
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Landlocked Heart Book Four:
The Isle of Eternal
Happiness
Kay Berrisford
After several months of wedded life, Ben is feeling the pressure. Not only has he a job and marriage to worry about, he has to sustain Lyle's waning magical powers and see through the destiny of the Dragon Rider and save Lyle's merfolk family in their hour of need.
Lyle's concerned that Ben is changing for the worse, acting secretively and strangely. With Ben rapidly developing powers of his own, Lyle suspects Ben is being corrupted by the sinister legacy of Prince Clewell, whose magic sword Ben has inherited. If not, their marriage is failing.
Ben tries to pacify Lyle by whisking him off on a belated honeymoon. But Ben's true purpose is to seek a hidden fairy sanctuary, "The Isle of Eternal Happiness," and to fulfil the Dragon Rider prophecy. He's even invited Lyle's dragon-shifting sister, Cully, to help him in Lyle's stead. Lyle finally snaps. Ben's mission might be a noble one, but magic is turning him into a monster. And Lyle is still a force to be reckoned, even with his health and powers deteriorating.
Landlocked Heart: The Isle of Eternal Happiness
Landlocked Heart 4
By Kay Berrisford
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Constance Blye
Cover designed by Jasmine Ang
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition March 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Kay Berrisford
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781684311972
Print ISBN 9781684312634
Chapter One
"On that positive note, let's bring the interview to a close." Janine Clarke, head of the Wessex Coastal Protection Board, stood and offered Ben her hand across her desk. "Thanks for coming, Benjamin. It's rare to encounter a young man with such enthusiasm for our work. It's been an utter pleasure to meet you."
Ben returned the handshake warmly. He turned over his answer to her final question, concerning clifftop erosion, and decided he'd nailed it. He'd nailed the lot of them, so it seemed, if Janine's satisfied air was any indication. But—and there was always a "but"—her last words niggled rather than cheered him. She claimed it'd been an utter pleasure to meet him. So she didn't intend to meet him again?
He ought to let the matter go at that. He should depart the offices in good grace and let Janine decide if the job as her deputy was his or not.
"Ms Clarke, I am the best candidate for this role," said Ben, retaining her hand and tightening his clasp. "If you pick me, you won't be disappointed. When I commit to a task, I always deliver." At least, these days he tended to. "I always triumph in the end, whatever the odds."
Crap, why did he say that? Janine's expression turned stony, and she twisted her fingers free. If Ben had been his old self, her reaction would have melted him into a puddle of shame. Instead, he pulled himself together fast, focussing on his love for Lyle, his beautiful merman husband: a love that anchored him in difficult situations. Everything Ben did was for Lyle. Plus he recalled the sense of power he experienced whenever he clasped Prince Clewell's magical sword—a newfound courage that'd carried him through this interview with only a flurry of his usual nerves.
"You're the best I can do, eh?" said Janine, folding her arms and planting herself coolly on the far side of the desk. "I'll bear that in mind."
"Sorry, I hope I didn't come across too strong there." Ben grinned, lopsided and hopeful, remembering humility could also be a winning card. "Thanks for your time today. I look forward to hearing from you, as and when you've made your decision."
His head still spun as he hoofed it out of the building, torn over whether he'd given the smartest interview of his life or behaved like an arrogant git. He crossed over a road and into the strip of gardens that flowed down to the Bournemouth seafront. A hazy sun hung low in the spring sky, and a brisk breeze tossed the heads of the fading daffodils. Ben strove to remain positive, hugging his new leather work satchel against his hip.
That he'd become more forthright wasn't so strange. In the year since he'd met Lyle, Ben's life had turned topsy-turvy from that of a mild-mannered environmental officer to the husband of a magical shapeshifting merman. Some of the new skills he'd left off his official curriculum vitae included curse breaking and soaring down the English Channel on the backs of mythical beasties. In addition, when he'd discovered Clewell's sword, he'd inherited the mantle of the legendary Dragon Rider, which meant he was destined to save Lyle's family in their hour of need, and…
A man strode toward him with a patch of purple and white pansies growing out of his head. Mean-looking and stocky, he shot Ben a "wotcha lookin' at?" glare, while some kids playing mini-golf giggled and pointed at him.
Lyle's work? It had to be.
Ben's smothered a laugh behind his sleeve and hurried toward the beach. He wondered how long it would be before the stricken man realized why people were laughing, or if Lyle's magic would fade before he discovered what'd happened. One matter was for sure: a useful side effect of becoming the Dragon Rider—and proud owner of a magical sword—was that Ben had acquired magic of his own, most crucially the ability to draw it from the sword and pass it on to Lyle through their kisses and lovemaking. Lyle's abilities, formerly damaged, had flourished as never before. Indeed, if the toddlers Ben spied chasing dragon-shaped bubbles around the beach were any indication, Lyle had enough magic to toss it around carelessly this afternoon.
When Ben finally spotted Lyle, any exasperation instantly fled. In fully human form, Lyle sat on a beachside bench, his arms draped gracefully along the back as he basked in the pale sunshine. His chin was tipped high and his long auburn-and-claret-streaked hair shimmered. As Ben approached, Lyle's eyes snapped open, and sparkling amethyst irises met Ben's hungry gaze. Heavens, Ben was a lucky, lucky man to share his life and bed with a creature that gorgeous.
"How did the interview go?" asked Lyle, apprehension flickering in his tone.
Ben shrugged. "Pretty good, I think."
"I knew you'd be fab, darling." Lyle jumped up and wrapped his arms around Ben, drawing him close. Ben raised himself onto tiptoes and they shared a lazy kiss. The tell-tale tingle of magic flowed between them as Lyle drank thirstily of the power Ben had claimed from Clewell's sword earlier that day. The quicksilver coil of Ben's arousal and the sweetness of Lyle's mouth—a delicious mixture of coffee, candyfloss, and a briny zest that was uniquely, ravishingly Lyle—was more than reward enough.
"Yeah, it didn't go badly at all." Ben stayed so close he breathed only of Lyle's panted breaths. He struggled to focus on anything save Lyle's slender body, pressed against him. Yet one pertinent question begged: "Love, what the dickens have you been up to? The guy with the pansies on his head?"
Lyle fluttered his lashes with an air of feigned innocence. "He dumped a bag of rubbish into a flowerbed. I cleared it up, but seeing as none of your police officer sorts were around, I inflicted a punishment of my own." He grinned. "Most entertaining it was, too. He looked very almost cute."
"I get you." Ben snickered. "But, really, you mustn't—"
"If it bothered you, why didn't you change him back to normal yourself?" said Lyle, only mildly teasing. He'd been teaching Ben how to channel and use magic lately, although Ben remained very much a novice. "Theoretically, you're way more powerful than me, since all the magic I have now comes from you and your sword."
Ben pulled a face. "You know I daren't try anything in public yet, so please, try to be a little more restrained. If we're going to move to this town, we don't want a reputation for weirdness before we've arrived. Um, you do like it here, right?"
"Bournemouth is nice." Lyle fixed on the foam-flecked rollers, breaking one after another on the yellow sand. "But it isn't Eastbourne. I'd miss our flat, Daphne and all our other friends. I'd miss the ice-cream parlour, too."
Ben's sympathies aligned just a little. He would regret losing the pleasures of being with Lyle every day in Alberto Bertrand's Traditional Ice-Cream Parlour. That said, the role of Janine's deputy had a great flexitime arrangement, and he could work from home at least once a week.
"But you could get used to it, right?" Ben threaded his fingers through Lyle's silky hair. "If I get this job, we'll be able to afford a little house with a garden, like we always dreamed of. Maybe even a hot tub, eh?"
"That would be nice." Lyle didn't sound convinced.
"What I'm most concerned about now," said Ben, "is whether you've got enough magic in the tank to fly me back home on Dragon Air, or do we need to catch the train?"
"I think I'm okay." Lyle's accelerating breaths ruffled Ben's neatly gelled hair. "But you know how to make certain we'll have no emergency landings, right?"
The urgent tug of Ben's arousal betrayed itself in a ravenous moan. The cautious side of his nature whispered tentative refusals. If Ben made love to Lyle al fresco in a public place, he would dirty his best interview clothes. He'd also risk losing his new job before he'd even been offered it. Sooner or later, they had to get caught…
Ben cupped Lyle's neck and pulled him down into a sudden, smacking kiss, leaving Lyle looking stunned, adorably dizzy, and delighted. "Have you spotted a good place, love?"
Lyle had—in a thicket of clifftop woodland not a couple of hundred yards off. The trees, clad in pale blossom and tender green leaves, just about concealed Lyle and Ben from the windows of a posh apartment block that towered above. Ben, with his hand clasped tight about Lyle's and sweating from the sprint up the cliff path, soon forgot his concern about spectators. He threw off his satchel and claimed Lyle's lips in another ravaging kiss.
They tumbled to the earth in the shadow of a yellow gorse bush. Then, after a fumbling adjustment of clothing and a hasty preparation, Lyle rolled onto his tummy beneath Ben and spread his legs. Ben ploughed him deep.
"Baby, you feel so amazing." Ben whispered hoarsely, loud as he dared. They manoeuvred themselves up so Ben could take Lyle doggie-style. Lyle's gasping moans, his every wriggle and clench, heightened Ben's desires. He pumped relentlessly into Lyle's pretty arse. Lyle felt so damned tight, so good.
Then there was the magic… oh yes, oh heavens, the torrents of magic. No wonder the way they'd made love had changed lately. Because when Ben rutted into Lyle, the swell of magic in Ben's veins, the rush of power from Ben into Lyle, almost annihilated the exquisite intimacy of the act, let alone the carnal pleasures.
When Ben touched Clewell's sword these days, it often felt like this—felt like taking Lyle. And taking Lyle made Ben yearn to throw his head back and roar. Of course, he missed Lyle's fins, the way he and Lyle used to be all over and inside each other, all together and all at once. But there seemed no space for that here, not now, not today.
Lyle needed Ben to claim him like this, surely the most potent way for Ben to pass on the magic Lyle required to live the life Lyle loved. Oh, and for Lyle to change into a dragon at will, an art he'd mastered since Ben had been bolstering his powers. Lucky old Ben…
Rammed to the hilt inside Lyle, Ben littered kisses down the nape of Lyle's neck, skittering his hands down the taut length of Lyle's body. Finding Lyle rock-hard and ready, he grasped and frisked Lyle's shaft. Lyle peaked almost instantly, and the shuddering sensations unleashed Ben's climax also. Everything was over far too soon. Ben collapsed heavily onto Lyle's back, squashing Lyle facedown into the dirt.
"Shit." Ben panted, slowly regaining his puff. "You're going to give me a heart attack one day. You're so, so beautiful. So, so perfect."
Lyle sniffed and pushed his face sideways, so one cheek was pressed to the earth. He curved his lips into a meagre half-moon smile. "Glad you had fun, darling," he said.
Unsettled, Ben rolled off Lyle so he kneeled over him. "Didn't you have fun too?"
"Of course I did." Lyle sharpened his focus till it pierced into Ben like a shard of glass. "Not that it really matters."
Chapter Two
"What do you mean by that?" asked Ben. "Of course it matters if you enjoy having sex. It means the world to me." He fastened his trousers then brushed the dirt and twigs from his thighs. "I'm sorry that making love has become a necessity as well as a pleasure for us. But I'd never do anything you didn't want, you know that. What we just did was as much your idea as mine."
"I know," breathed Lyle. He remained curled on his side beside the bush, shirtless and with his jeans caught beneath his thighs. He looked thoroughly—and sexily—used and shagged out. "It's just… Oh, never mind," said Lyle. "It's me being daft."
"Are you sure?" asked Ben.
"I'm fine, husband dearest." Lyle flashed a reassuringly wicked smile, all gleaming teeth and promise of mischief. Then he pushed himself up onto his haunches and his fins burst forth from his upper arms and thighs. One of the fin's feathered tips flexed toward Ben, and Ben couldn't resist. He skittered his fingers along the shimmering multi-coloured length before drawing it to his mouth and tonguing the tip.
"I love you like this," said Ben between sucks, enjoying how the contact made Lyle squirm. This was the first form Ben had known Lyle in, back in Shanty Wood, when it'd been difficult for Lyle to draw enough magic to conceal his fins, let alone shift into a dragon. "I love all your shapes, Lyle. I always will. Oh, and I've got you a present. A surprise."
"That sounds interesting," said Lyle. Ben relinquished him, and he leaned back on his palms and let his upper fins dance.
"I hope you like it," said Ben, rummaging in the bottom of the satchel before pulling out an interlinked network of straps, buckles and a muzzle. "It's a harness for your dragon. A custom design, so it ought to fit."
Lyle fins froze mid dance. He turned rigid, save his eyes, which hardened into merciless stones. "A harness," he articulated slowly. "You got me a harness."
"Er, yes. Don’t you like the colour? I thought you liked maroon." Ben frowned. "It's lovely soft leather, and it'll make me feel a little more secure when we're a thousand feet above the English Channel and—"
"You got me a ruddy harness." Lyle's fins vanished and he scrambled to his feet, yanking his jeans up. He hissed angrily, setting Ben leaping up too then backing into the prickly gorse. It'd never occurred that Lyle might object to the gift in any way. After all, Ben always wore a crash helmet when dragon riding, and was usually safety conscious by nature as well as trade.
"What do you think I am?" Lyle tossed his hair with an angry flourish. "Your horse? Your pet poodle? Your bloody slave?" As the magnitude of Ben's error struck him, Ben reached for Lyle. Lyle jerked himself out of reach. "My brother roped me up more than once to stop me running from him. And don't you think I was trapped for long enough?"
"I'm sorry. I truly am," said Ben, a desperate idea striking. If there was ever a good time to use h
is emergent magical skills, this was it. "I'll make it go away. You never have to see it again."
Ben screwed his face with concentration. He connected with the intense fizzing sensation that'd recently grown familiar, in the place Lyle described as the "magical core." Ben figured this was roughly where he kept the pit of his stomach, or possibly his upper intestines. He willed the harness to disappear.
Conceal, please conceal…. For heavens' sakes, go away.
The harness in his hands flickered out of sight. Then burst straight back again. Ben reached for his magic but found only a pathetic trickle. After passing so much onto Lyle, he'd little left.
"That didn't work," he murmured. "Please don't hate me. I didn't think—"
"No, you didn't, did you?" shouted Lyle. "You and my sister should form a nothing-bloody-going-on-upstairs club. Just get away from me."
Ben wanted to beg Lyle to keep his voice down in case they attracted too much attention. Instead, he swallowed hard, shaken and unsure of himself. In a crack of white light, Lyle vanished and his dragon appeared in his place. Lyle's dragon form was larger than a thoroughbred stallion, with a long, gracious neck and a forked tail, which he had to extract from the gorse. His scales shimmered in a spectrum of metallic rainbow colours, as if he was clad in a thousand particularly decorous beetle shells. He swung his snout toward Ben and curled his upper lip to reveal pearly fangs. His indigo dragon eyes were as unreadable as ever, veiled by half-closed gauzy lids and three-inch long lashes.
"You'd better hop on," said the dragon, in a deeper, rougher version of Lyle's clipped voice. "Let's go home and have a quiet evening."
Ben smiled, embarrassingly grateful that he'd been forgiven. He stroked Lyle's scaly flank, revelling at the polished feel of the scales and the hum of magic animating the creature beneath. "Thank you," said Ben. "I'm sorry, love. I really am."
He gathered up their belongings, including the harness, which he disposed of in a nearby litter bin. Then he put on his crash helmet and hoisted himself onto Lyle's back. An instant later, Lyle cracked his wings, and they stuttered into the air. Lyle's jerky flight path between the trees betrayed how new he was to flying. Ben gritted his teeth, trying not to swear. At least the dragon was invisible to all other humans. Once above the ocean, however, Lyle spread his wings and soared on the currents with ease, tracing the coastline as they forged eastward.
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