by Jasmine Walt
“There you go,” he said as she went over the edge. He thrust his cock into her as she shook from the force of it, then bit back a curse as her inner walls clamped down on him. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from coming, but it was so bloody hard with Dareena bucking against him, frantically milking him for every bit of pleasure she could get. Bracing his hands on the bed, he quickened his pace, refusing to let her catch her breath even as she started coming down from the high.
“You are so bloody perfect,” he panted, ripping the gag out of her mouth. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her breathy moans as he fucked her, wanting to make her come again. She clawed at his back, nails sinking into his skin, and the pain spurred him on, driving him even deeper into her.
Finally, Dareena’s body went rigid beneath his, and her pussy clenched tight around him again. Lucyan groaned into her mouth as her orgasm pushed him over the edge, and his vision went white for a moment as he became overwhelmed by the wave of utter bliss. Winded, he collapsed onto his elbows and buried his head in the crook of Dareena’s neck, breathing in their combined scents as he fought to catch his breath.
“You truly are the Dragon’s Gift,” he said when he could speak again. His exhaustion evaporated as renewed energy that only Dareena could give surged through him.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Dareena asked teasingly. She reached up to cup his face, her green eyes filled with satisfaction and tenderness.
“No,” Lucyan said. He slid down Dareena’s body to press a kiss to her abdomen. “Not anymore. Our son is growing in your womb.” He had no idea if the child was from his seed, but it didn’t matter—as far as he was concerned, it was as much his as it was Drystan’s or Alistair’s. “I can’t wait until your belly begins to round,” he said, nuzzling her damp skin.
Dareena smiled. “We’ll be back home then,” she said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “All four of us together again.”
“Yes, but we need to get out of here first.” Lucyan rolled onto his side and propped up his head to face Dareena. “You said you learned to manipulate your elven magic. It turns out I too have a new trick up my sleeve—I can shift.”
“You can?” Dareena sat up, her face lighting up with joy. “Oh, Lucyan, that’s wonderful!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “You must be thrilled. Can you fly?”
“A bit,” he said, “though that will not help us much until we can get beyond the castle walls. I cannot risk any of the guards taking me down with that horrible warlock magic.”
“No, you certainly cannot,” Dareena said. “Although, do you think it’s possible your amulet might protect you? It has worked against the anti-dragon spell so far.”
“The warlock warned me that the amulet might fail if it tries to combat more than one spell at a time,” Lucyan said ruefully. “As much as I would like to try, we would find ourselves in even more dire straits if we accidentally destroyed the amulet in the process. Tariana flew over the border to try to rescue Ryolas before he was brought to the castle, and she nearly died thanks to that blasted warlock magic,” he growled. “Luckily, I came upon her and helped her heal with the amulet, and managed to convince her to go home by promising I would rescue Ryolas if I could.”
“I’m glad you did, because a rescue is no longer necessary,” Dareena said. “Arolas was thrown into the dungeons after what he did to Alistair, and Ryolas was released. He is confined to his quarters, and resting comfortably, from what Princess Basilla has told me.”
“Thank the gods,” Lucyan said, relief sweeping through him. That was one less burden for him to worry about. “It will be far easier to escape if it’s only the three of us. If we can successfully sneak out of here, I can carry you two on my back and fly to Dragonfell. Do you think you might be able to use your magic to make us invisible?” he asked, remembering how Ryolas and his men had done so in the forest.
Dareena shook her head. “Invisibility is beyond the purview of nature-based magic,” she said. “If we had your invisibility cloak I might be able to strengthen it a bit, but I could not fashion such a spell myself.”
“That is unfortunate,” Lucyan said. “And no, I no longer possess the cloak—Shadley managed to lose it while he was fleeing Paxhall. What about offensive spells? Can you use your magic as a weapon?”
“Oh yes,” Dareena said. She sat up and reached for the drawer in the bedside table, and the sheet slid down, exposing her round, lovely breasts. Lucyan’s cock twitched, and he gripped the bedspread to keep from reaching for her again—the conversation at hand was far more important than his sexual desires. “Here is the primer I was telling you about.” She turned back to show him the slim volume in her hand.
“This is written with elven runes,” Lucyan said, flipping through the pages. “You’ve already taught yourself to read this?” He shook his head, amazed at her aptitude, though perhaps he shouldn’t be. She’d learned those dragon runes awfully fast when he’d taught her.
“Well, I sometimes still refer to the alphabet book Basilla gave me,” she admitted, “but yes, I’ve come a long way.” She took the book from him and flipped it open to a passage. “This is a technique that produces a humming noise that is very harsh on the ears. It can be used to stun dogs and wolves, or other creatures with sharp hearing.”
“Like elves,” Lucyan said, nodding. “Or even dragons.”
Dareena smiled, turning to another page. “This one here talks of taking the life energy and forming it into a weapon,” she said. “Some people fashion it into spears, others shoot it from their hands like arrows.”
Lucyan’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds handy,” he said. “Have you tried any of these?”
Dareena shook her head. “I couldn’t risk the guards overhearing,” she said, glancing toward the door. “But now that they’re no longer right outside…”
“You could try it now,” Lucyan finished. “At least the weapon thing. I’d advise against the humming noise—they would definitely hear that.”
Dareena nodded. She rose from the bed and covered her body in a dressing gown, much to Lucyan’s disappointment. Lucyan quickly dressed, then joined her, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever she summoned.
“This may not work,” she warned, raising her hand. “I’ve gotten a little better at gathering energy from the air, but this could require more than I can manage.”
“Just do your best,” Lucyan said. He stood back and watched as Dareena focused on her hand, pursing her lips. The air in the room shifted, and sure enough, he could feel the hum of power as it gathered around her. By the gods, he hadn’t doubted her when she told him she could use elven magic, but hearing it was quite different from watching it at work.
“It’s working,” Lucyan said, his voice hushed but excited. Her hand was glowing, sparks crackling in the air around it. “Come on, Dareena, you can do this!”
Dareena sucked in a breath. The light grew brighter, and suddenly, a glowing whip unfurled from her hand. It crackled as it hit the floor, throwing off sparks, and Lucyan’s eyes widened. A few of the sparks left scorch marks on the floor and walls.
“I—I did it!” Dareena exclaimed. As soon as she said the words, the whip flickered out of existence. “Or at least, I did for a moment,” she said, a little put out.
“Damn right you did.” Lucyan gathered her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Don’t look so disappointed—this is excellent news! With a bit of practice, you’ll be wielding that whip in no time.”
The two of them returned to bed to snuggle for a little while, and they slept until sunrise. Rays of pink and gold peeked through the curtains when Lucyan opened his eyes, and he nuzzled the back of Dareena’s neck. This was the best night of sleep he’d gotten in a long time.
“Time for me to get up,” he said, kissing her neck. “I’ve got to be in Alistair’s room before a servant shows up.”
“Mmm.” Dareena turned in his arms, her eyes half-lidded. “I’ll join you.”
>
Lucyan dressed quickly, reluctantly putting his disguise back in place while Dareena donned the dressing gown again. They returned to Alistair’s room to find him sleeping peacefully and looking significantly improved from last night.
“Morning,” his brother rumbled, pushing himself upright. His sleepy gaze moved between the two of them, and he smiled knowingly. “The two of you look well-rested.”
“As do you,” Dareena said, smiling. She sat down on the bed next to Alistair and felt his forehead. “No fever,” she said, “and your color looks good. I believe you’re back to normal.” She ran her fingers through his messy blond hair as she kissed him.
“And here I thought I was the doctor,” Lucyan teased as Dareena cuddled Alistair. A pang of jealousy hit him, but it was less about Alistair holding Dareena’s attention and more about the fact that he couldn’t rejoin her in bed. But he was Dr. Harrigan again, and it would raise some very awkward questions if he was found in bed with her by one of the elves.
“You are,” Alistair said, grinning, “and your treatment was quite effective. Though I suppose you’ll be wanting your medicine back,” he added, unfastening the amulet from around his neck.
“You should wear that for as long as possible—” Lucyan began, but just then someone knocked on the door. “Who is it?” he called as Dareena jumped up from the bed, an alarmed look on her face. Lucyan remembered that Drystan had given the elven duchess the distinct impression that he alone was Dareena’s mate…did the elves still think that, or were they aware of their arrangement?
“It’s Princess Basilla,” the visitor called. “I’m coming to check on your patient.”
“Come in,” Lucyan said, snatching the amulet from Alistair’s hand and putting it in his coat pocket. He turned to greet the princess just in time to see the look of pleased surprise on her face as she beheld Alistair.
“You are looking much improved,” she said to Alistair as she stopped at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a new man, thanks to the doctor,” Alistair said. “I am grateful to you for hiring him.”
“It was the least I could do after the way my horrid brother treated you,” Basilla said. She turned her gaze to Lucyan. “Unfortunately, my father has said that once Alistair is nursed back to health, you must leave the building. His policy about not letting outsiders into the castle is rather strict.”
“I understand,” Lucyan said, inclining his head. “Before I go, could I have a chance to speak to my patient and his…friend…alone? I need to give them instructions on how to administer the potions I will be leaving behind.”
“Of course.” Princess Basilla glanced between them, and Lucyan could have sworn he caught a glimmer of skepticism in her eyes. But she left, and Lucyan made a big show of rummaging through his doctor’s bag within view of the guards before she closed her door.
“You can’t leave now,” Dareena whispered, clutching at Lucyan’s arm. “You only just got here, and we haven’t come up with a good plan yet!”
“I have no choice,” Lucyan whispered back. “There is no way to smuggle either of you out with the guards watching. I will see if there is a way to sneak you out from the outside, but if not, you must find a way on your own.”
“I’m sure the two of us can manage something, now that Arolas is no longer a thorn in our side,” Alistair said. “We should set a rendezvous point.”
“I’ll be waiting at the Whistling Willow for you,” Lucyan said. “Go there and ask for Ramsey, the tinkerer’s apprentice.”
“Tinkerer’s apprentice?” Alistair frowned.
Lucyan rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story. I’ll be waiting with provisions, and some fast horses.” It would be easier to avoid detection if they left on horseback—he could always shift later, once they were out of view. “Stay safe in the meantime,” he said.
“We will,” Alistair promised, giving Lucyan a fierce hug. Lucyan hugged him back, then gave Dareena a quick kiss to tide him over. She clung to him, clearly not wanting to let him go.
“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, drying the tears falling from her lashes. His heart ached to see her so distraught, but he had to leave now before the guards grew suspicious.
“I know you will.” She put on a brave smile for him, then pushed him toward the door. “Go now.”
He did, and though his heart was heavy, for the first time in a long while, it was also filled with hope.
26
“What do you mean, he’s not awake yet?” Drystan growled. The fork bent in his clenched grip. He was half-tempted to wad it up into a ball and shove it down the warlock’s throat. Maybe that would bring him back to consciousness.
Catriona scowled. “I meant exactly what I said. He’s not awake yet. The sleeping potion we doused him with must have been stronger than I thought.”
“I may have given him an extra dose,” Taldren said sheepishly.
“You what?” Catriona twisted in her seat to face him. The three of them were gathered around the table in the royal suite, eating breakfast. “Are you daft, cousin? That much could have killed him!”
“And so what if it did?” Taldren said defensively. “After what that bastard did, he deserves to die.”
Drystan groaned. “As much as I agree with that sentiment, we need him alive to question him,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his beard. “You’d better hope he wakes up soon, Taldren. If he dies, I’ll have you busted down to stable boy.”
“Great,” Taldren muttered. “Mucking out stalls again. Just what I was hoping for.”
“Mucking out stalls will be the least of our worries if we don’t get to the bottom of this,” Catriona said. “We need to find out what the warlocks are up to, or we’ll never be free of their constant meddling.”
Drystan scooped a forkful of sausage into his mouth, considering the situation. Would the oracle imposter tell them anything? Drystan had no idea what he was capable of—for all he knew, by the time they went down there the bastard could have melted off his shackles and escaped despite the twenty-four-hour watch Drystan had posted. He wished Lucyan were here—out of everyone in their family, he was the only one who dabbled with warlock-enchanted items and the like. It was quite likely he would know of a way to keep the warlock restrained. Luckily, Shadley was still around; he would seek out the spymaster after breakfast and ask him if anything could be done to secure the warlock’s cell against magical meddling.
“Your Highness!” A messenger bustled in, clutching a scroll. “A message has come from the elves.”
Drystan’s heart jumped in his chest. “Let’s see it,” he demanded, holding out his hand. Taldren and Catriona gathered around him as he unrolled the scroll, and Drystan clenched his jaw as he read it. The message was unsigned, but the snooty tone told him it was likely from Arolas—if he did not pay up in a week’s time, one of the hostages would be executed.
“Enough of this,” Drystan growled, slapping the scroll onto the table. “We cannot afford to wait for the scouts to find Father’s lair.”
“What are you going to do?” Catriona asked as he shoved to his feet. For once, she actually looked alarmed. “You can’t be thinking about running off to the Black Mountains, can you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Drystan strode to the coat rack by the door and grabbed his cloak. “Catriona, you’re in charge while I’m gone, and Taldren, you’re second in command. I’ll be back by nightfall. Try not to let the place fall apart until then.”
Ignoring their sputtering protests, Drystan stalked out the door. Several nobles tried to waylay him, but he ignored them, stopping only to tell his steward that he would be out for the day. As soon as he was free of the castle walls, he shifted into dragon form, then launched himself off the cliffside and into the air.
He’d snatched an hour or two of free time here and there to practice flying, and to his relief, he had acclimated to his wings far faster than anticipated. Despite the dire circumsta
nces spurring his flight, Drystan found his fears and worries dropping away as he soared higher—the feel of the wind on his face, the sight of the clouds around him and the ground so far below, all of it filled him with an exhilaration that could not be matched by any experience, not even riding a horse at full speed. He suddenly understood why his father had always been in a good mood after returning from a hunt. How could anyone not be after this?
He only hoped his father would be in a more agreeable mood if and when he ran into him in the forest. It was likely he was getting in quite a bit of flying now that he was on his own and forced to hunt on a regular basis. With any luck, he was hunting animals, not Dragon Force soldiers. Drystan felt bad enough about sending those soldiers into danger on a regular basis—he would feel terrible if his father had killed them.
Even though Drystan was in his own territory, he made sure to stay above the clouds to draw as little attention as possible. Even so, about halfway to his destination, he spotted a caravan of traders being accosted by what looked like bandits. Part of him was tempted to keep flying—after all, from this distance they seemed like nothing more than insignificant ants—but the ruler in him could not abide the idea of bandits roaming free on his lands.
Angling his body toward the ground, he swooped down, then blasted a few of the bandits with fire, careful not to get too close to the caravan. Screams and the smell of roasting flesh filled the air, simultaneously exciting and horrific—his human and dragon halves were not reconciled on the issues. Three of the bandits were killed instantly, thrown by their horses and landing on their heads, and two more were merely singed badly. The rest took one look at him and bolted, running or riding as fast as they could manage. Drystan felt a bit sorry for the animals, which did not deserve to be scorched or frightened. But then again, the caravan did not deserve to be robbed.
