Spell Of Love: Dragon's Desire

by Alyssa Brooks

  Praise for the writing of Alyssa Brooks

  Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses

  Once again, Alyssa Brooks creates an enchanting and erotic tale with a hero that is truly a sweetheart…This reviewer is eagerly looking forward to reading the other stories of Edmund's brothers to see how Ms. Brooks continue building upon the exciting paranormal elements laid down in this tale.

  -- Sarah W., The Romance Studio

  Alyssa Brooks has written a charming, bewitching romance that this reviewer totally enjoyed…I can't wait to see which brother has his heart captured next.

  -- Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today

  With an exciting plot, witty characters, and scorching scenes, Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses made this reviewer stop a few times to catch her breath. I highly recommend this book and demand a sequel!

  -- Mila Bean, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  Alyssa Brooks’ Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses is an exceptional tale that should not be missed. The author has created characters that you hate to say goodbye to as the story ends.

  -- Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews

  Short as the story is, Ms. Brooks gives us a completely fleshed out romance. A sweet story with sizzling love scenes, Lust Upon Roses is a keeper.

  -- Amber, Coffee Time Romance

  Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses is now available from Loose Id.

  SPELL OF LOVE:

  DRAGON’S DESIRE

  Alyssa Brooks

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For explicit sexual content and graphic language.

  Spell of Love: Dragon’s Desire

  Alyssa Brooks

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © August 2005 by Alyssa Brooks

  Excerpt of The Devil’s Triangle copyright June 2005 by Alyssa Brooks

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-161-X

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Ansley Velarde

  Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

  www.loose-id.com

  Prologue

  Kingdom of Wulfhere, 1435

  The smell alone was enough to scare a brave man away. Like a disgusting combination of rotting fish and manure, the air in the dragon’s cave hung heavy with stink.

  His sword drawn, Bryhan worked his way through the dark. He dared not light a torch for fear of waking the beast. In the back of his mind, he knew it didn’t matter. He was immortal, after all. What did he have to fear? How he confronted the dragon was now of little consequence.

  But parts of him could not let go of instinct.

  He had been after this dragon for years. Since he was a lad. Around the villages, he was known as the Dragon Slayer. Stories preceded him everywhere he went, as if he had brought down countless dragons, even rescuing fair ladies in the process.

  It was only because he was the son and brother of two great kings. Truth be told, this was the only dragon in the kingdom of Wulfhere. Or in any kingdom, as far as he knew. He had never gotten close enough to even poke it with his sword. Just to smell it.

  Every time he thought he’d do it, fear held him back.

  But what did he have to fear now? He’d never die. His father had seen to that. The potion he’d made Bryhan and all of his brothers drink ensured forever would never end. If only his father had drunk it first, maybe he’d still be around.

  A deep feeling invaded Bryhan, compelling him to rebel. To fight for his freedom. To be released from the damned spell so he could taste the thrill of danger again.

  Outwitting death wasn’t an easy concept to grasp. It slowly grew on you, molding your reactions. The battle had been his first test, pushing him to fight without recourse. Against hundreds of men, he and his brothers had fought. The castle had been besieged. Knights and cannonballs had invaded from everywhere.

  But alone, he and his brothers had battled. Warred. They’d run headfirst into the armies, never once flinching as they protected their people. In the heat of the moment, forgetting fear had been easy.

  They had, of course, won. The victory had seeped into his blood. The dissolution of fear had been sparked in him. The flame faltered here and there, but always it grew. Soon he’d be another man. An intrepid, reckless one.

  With a dragon trophy. Yes, he’d eat the beast’s heart and hang its head over his mantle.

  With slow, careful steps, he crept into the main chamber of the cave. The whoosh of the dragon’s breathing filled the rank air, hot and steady. The beast was huge, at least fifty feet long. Staying close to the cold rock wall, Bryhan skulked along. He wanted to face the dragon as he drove his blade into its heart. To see its eyes. To see its terror.

  The closer he drew, the hotter it became. The beast loomed before him, massive in size and presence. But, thankfully, still snoring. Now was his chance! All he had to do was drive his blade through its throat. To steal its air, slowly suffocating it to death. Once it gave up and surrendered to death, he’d cut out its heart and feast upon it. The rich blood would instill in him the heart of a dragon. To him, that was worthier than any spell.

  He raised his sword high ...

  Suddenly the dragon’s eyes flashed open, glowing a brilliant green as they stared him down. The light they cast glimmered off of his polished blade, reflecting through the cave.

  Bloody hell! Bryhan yelped. Startled, he jumped back. His blade fell as he gasped in shock. He hit the cold rock wall with a painful thud, aware of the contrast between hot and cold as he leaned against it.

  Quickly, he gathered himself back together, yanking his sword up. He thrust it toward the scaled beast. “Halt, beast. I have come to slaughter you.”

  To his surprise, the dragon chuckled deep and low. “And you thought I’d simply allow it?”

  Its breath truly held fire, though not the kind one imagined. Bryhan winced, trying to keep from breathing. The dragon’s breath was like smelling the latrine after Edmund feasted.

  “It will be easier if you do not fight.”

  The dragon’s tail flicked back and forth nonchalantly. “Because I cannot win against one of the princes of forever? I cannot kill you, so you will slaughter me? I should bend to your whim, allow you to have your petty fun?”

  “Nothing is petty about freeing the villages of your attacks!” Bryhan yelled his accusation, jabbing his sword in threat.

  “I don’t attack. I fly, exercising my wings. Just because I swoop over their village, doesn’t mean I attack.”

  “You attack.”

  “No. You attack. Fool. You pride your
self on being a dragon hunter, but when I am dead, what will you do? There are no others like me left in this world.”

  “Of course there are.” Bryhan lunged forward. Such anger flooded him at the dragon’s denial that his actions were without thought. The beast had ruined crops. Breathed fire on thatch homes that easily burned. It did nothing but attack. Pure fury drove him as he thrust his sword into the dragon’s throat. It pierced the tough-scaled skin easily, being sharpened to a razorlike point in preparation. “And I shall kill them all, as well.”

  The dragon’s wail of pain echoed through the cave. Its long tail whipped around the room, and Bryhan jumped to dodge from its path.

  As the dragon writhed and fought for air through its failing windpipe, sudden, unexpected regret snaked through Bryhan. It settled in the pit of his stomach and made him sick.

  What had he done? What the bloody hell had he done?

  Abrupt realization flooded through him, like he had just awakened to the truth. The beast’s green eyes spoke it, flooding his heart with it. Like piercing daggers, they shot straight to his soul. Flashes of the dragon’s life zapped through him. The peaceful, tranquil existence it had lived ages ago. The unwelcome invasion of people into its once private territory. They way it was picked and preyed upon.

  Bryhan jerked back to reality. But the visions had burned his heart. This dragon had been here long before them. Had the right to remain as fairly as it had to breathe. It was the last one, and Bryhan was murdering it.

  The beast was writhing in pain, the glow of its eyes fading in the dark cave. But so long as they were open, they remained on him. Accusing him. Paining him. Its moans filled the air, overcoming Bryhan with despair.

  Bryhan raced forward, yanking his sword free. He expected the beast to strike out, to fight for its life. Instead, it gave up, rolling to its side with a loud thump.

  A raspy gasp escaped the animal as it spoke its final words. “May your guilt change you for eternity. Never shall you hurt another of us.”

  Bryhan didn’t know it then, but he would carry those words with him forever. In that moment, he changed from slayer to protector. Wielding his sword once again, he drove it into the beast’s chest cavity and sliced it open. The dragon gave no fight, allowing him to do what he must.

  He saw it now. It was too late for the dragon, but not for Bryhan.

  He worked through bone and muscle, opening the beast’s upper body. Bending on one knee, he drove his hand into the dragon, searching for the heart. He grasped the still slow-beating muscle, tearing away a chunk of it.

  He bit into it, nearly swallowing the bite whole. The taste of salty blood filled his senses, the meat hard to chew.

  Again visions of the dragon’s life flooded him, its feelings and deepest fears. Bryhan opened his soul to them, letting them seep into him.

  Now he truly had the heart of a dragon.

  Chapter One

  Australia, 2005

  Bloody hell. He was late. Yet, at the same time he was early. Typical. He was never on time for anything.

  Bryhan stood at the end of the lane, facing the clearing. Moonlight shimmered over the one-story farmhouse, its white siding glowing in the night. A porch wrapped completely around the newer home, a swing moving back and forth, hitting against the house with a tap-tap. The yard was nice, at least a couple of green acres, with sloping sparse tropical woods of knotted twisted trees to one side, barns and fields of lush moonlit grasses to the other.

  He let out a puff of air, then breathed in deep of the cool night breeze. It figured his van had run out of gas about a mile back. Worse, it figured all the lights were out.

  Now what the hell should he do?

  Wouldn’t rightly do to ring the buzzer and wake Ms. Fields. After all, his arrival time was his own fault. When Leigh had called on his cell, he’d told her to tell Ms. Fields he’d be here today or tomorrow to wrangle the croc.

  Not in the middle of the night.

  He should have never gotten caught up with Tinker after the school assembly. They’d gone from looking for salamanders with a bunch of kids, to kicking back beers at the pub. Sure, he’d had a raging good time.

  He loved kids. He loved beer. Hell, he even loved Tinker.

  But the kids would have been enough.

  Now he had a bloody headache from the cheap beer, was out of gas in the middle of nowhere, and had nowhere to sleep. Plus, he stank like salamanders.

  He took wide strides down the lane. No bother -- he’d slept outside before. He’d wait here until morning, then call Leigh and have her tow the van up.

  Stepping up onto the porch, he eyed the tapping swing, then the thick brown mat at the bottom of the red front door. Dirty it might be, but it looked a hell of a lot softer than the hard planks of the porch. Flopping down, he curled up into a ball on the rug.

  * * * * *

  An odd feeling invaded Jay; sinking into the pit of her stomach and making her heart beat fast. She could almost feel a vision coming, like a tidal wave was about to sweep her over.

  She drew a sharp breath, letting the oxygen fill her lungs and relax her. After several seconds, the odd notion fled.

  Where had that come from? She hadn’t had a threat of a vision in years. Not since she’d secluded herself out here. And never in all her life had she had one without contact from another human being.

  Could it be? Could she not have outrun them after all?

  For a moment she paused; then she shook away the thought. If she didn’t think about them, they wouldn’t come. Other things. She needed to concentrate on other things.

  She dropped a dab of cream into her coffee and stirred it around. The black liquid paled only slightly, striking her hard with the annoyance that it was nowhere near enough. She dumped a good quarter cup into the tall mug, still not satisfied.

  Two weeks ago she’d given up carbs. Her younger stepsister in America had told her it was all the rage and that she was losing weight like a candle melting away wax.

  And sure, Jay had lost a whopping two pounds. She had also eaten enough meat to make someone sick, and not had a drop a sugar in what seemed like forever.

  She didn’t hate her ass that much. She was ready to let it be big and flat as ever, if she could have some chocolate.

  With a sigh, she tied her robe, grabbed her coffee, and headed to the front porch. The sun was just coming up, and she wanted to sit on the swing and watch it before she set to work on the farm feeding animals. She picked up yesterday’s unread paper from the small table in the foyer and stuffed it under her arm, then swung open the door and went for the screen.

  It did not budge.

  What the ...

  She let out a high-pitched scream. On her front mat lay a man, curled in a ball and snoozing. A black cowboy hat covered his head, locks of wispy blond hair peeking out. His jeans and white T-shirt certainly weren’t old, but they were dirty. Smeared with mud and something smelly.

  Even with her cry, and the door ramming him in the rear, he hardly budged. Just wormed about, as if he didn’t care about anything but remaining asleep.

  Again the overpowering feeling began to invade her.

  “Get up!” With all her might, she rammed the door into his ass. Then again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Easy, mate.” Mumbles groaned from him as he rolled away. The hat fell from his head as he gazed up at her. Startling icy-blue eyes met hers, so dreamy she gasped. Lips so full and sexy, her sex pulsed with the need to feel them. One look at his face captured her, giving her no choice but to run her gaze up and down his length as he stood up. Tall and massively built, strength formed his upper body. His hips were slim, accented by tight Levis that hugged his long legs. And did little to hide the huge bulge in his pants.

  Quickly she yanked her gaze back up. He was dirty, smelly. His jaw prickled with days of stubble.

  But he was hot enough to make her want to cream her panties.

  Who the hell was he? Better yet, why was h
e on her porch?

  “Ms. Fields.” Immediately it hit her that his accent was odd. Thickly Australian, yes, but with a hint of something different.

  He nodded hello and bent to pick up his hat. With a jerky motion, he slapped it back on his head.

  And then it hit her.

  “Mr. Wulfhere?”

  “None other, luv.” His blue eyes drifted down slowly, like two falling drops of water. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  Figured. He was the man supposed to be getting rid of the damn crocs in her creek. They were eating all her ducks, not to mention she wanted them gone before her big family barbie. Or, as her stepsister would have corrected her growing use of Australian slang, a barbecue. Jess was always picking at her English. She’d sure enjoy that the whole week of the barbie. Amongst other things. And including a croc, if this man didn’t work a miracle.

  Jay let out a soft sigh. For heaven’s sake, children would be here. Along with her snooty parents, who would no doubt be looking for some reason to insist she come home.

  She’d expected someone with a bulging belly, maybe a few rotten teeth. Older. Stinky. Dirty. Well, he fit those two. But he wasn’t old, and his belly wasn’t bulging. To the contrary, he was hot.

  She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Except that already she was envisioning herself in bed with him, and she’d promised herself no more flings. No more fooling around with men who didn’t want commitment, just a taste of her fortune.

  Since she’d hit the deep vein on her gold mine in the outback, romance had all but disappeared. She was pretty, rich, and from America. She couldn’t find one man to take interest in anything but that.