Captive Dreams

by Angela Knight

  The enormous space was filled to overflowing with people—standing on the intricate paving, waving from the encircling balconies, or watching from the parapets above. They cheered for the religious community leading the procession, but they went wild when Mykh and Corinne appeared.

  Mykh halted at the top of the stairs, bringing Corinne to a stop with him. The crowd’s boisterous approval swelled the air and flowed into her, lifting her spirits higher than any applause she’d ever heard after a college concert. “Dragonheart, Tigerheart!” they cheered.

  Mykh smiled down at her and lifted her hand to his lips. She blushed when he kissed the inside of her wrist, his warm lips sending shivers up her arm. His molten gold eyes promised more, just as the priests’ drums started up again.

  A path opened through the crowd wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Roses and other flowers rained down in a soft, scented cloud. Corinne was torn between laughing and crying at all the love reaching toward her from everyone. She glanced up at Mykh and caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes before he blinked.

  The high priests and priestesses abruptly turned and entered a passage set into the outer wall. The great sword and halberd followed the high priests, as did Mykh and Corinne, Mazur, Ghryghoriy and Amber, and a few trailing guardsmen. Everyone else marched down the avenue in a loud haze of music and laughter.

  Corinne looked an inquiry at Mykh.

  “We’ll depart from the inner harbor but they’ll participate from the watchtowers,” he answered quietly.

  “Will they be able to see everything?”

  “Certainly. They wouldn’t miss a jot of the festival.”

  “Ah.” What was going to happen on the boat? She had planned to ask the maids while they prepared her, but Mykh’s arrival had put all such thoughts out of her head. She chewed her lip, wanting to question him further but not daring to do so, given the clergy and soldiers close at hand.

  The galley’s appearance didn’t answer any questions. It lay peacefully moored to the now visible stone pier in the inner harbor, looking almost innocent except for the dragon rearing up at its prow like a Viking longboat. It had a central cabin with a canopy on its roof enclosing a second level. Musicians occupied the cabin, visible through doors folded back against each corner. Sails and rowers stood ready to propel it, its shallow draft making it usable no matter how low the water level fell. It looked both fast and stable, almost like a CEO’s fancy yacht.

  The parapets above the small inner harbor were lined with more cheering throngs. They continued to applaud as the party boarded, priests and priestesses heading for the bow and guardsmen moving to the stern. Dragon’s Breath and Tiger’s Paw were mounted in stands beside the canopy, before their escorts disappeared into the lower deck. Ghryghoriy and Amber seated themselves on an enormous cushioned bench near the musicians.

  Mazur hesitated on the pier, his tail lashing. “Great Lady,” he rumbled. “Great Lady, I cannot go farther. This boat is forbidden to all but humans.”

  Corinne stooped down to Mazur. “I’m sorry. We will miss you, friend.”

  He rubbed against her legs, his tail curving around them. “Great Lady, I will miss you, too.”

  “Tell him that we both wish he could accompany us,” Mykh interrupted.

  Corinne gaped at him. It was the first time he had acknowledged that Mazur could speak. His voice and expression were completely serious, so she probed a little. “Would you like to talk to him yourself? The effect would be permanent,” she added quietly.

  Mykh hesitated briefly before nodding. “Let me speak to my old friend.”

  Corinne cast the spell, a little surprised at how easily it came to her. Mykh blinked and shook his head, then cautiously tried a few simple words.

  Mazur leaped up and put his paws on Mykh’s shoulders. They stood like that for a few moments, growling softly together like a pair of lions. Finally the big leopard rubbed his jaw against Mykh’s, ruffling the man’s fiery mane while purring loudly enough to rival the crowd’s noise. Then Mazur dropped onto all four paws and backed away. He sat down regally, only his pricked ears and twitching tail showing any inner tumult.

  Mykh looked back at him for a long moment before leaving with Corinne. They were halfway up the gangplank before he spoke. “I promised him that I would guard you with my life.”

  Corinne paled. “Do you think that the Dark Warrior could strike here?”

  “No, the galley is protected by ancient wards that Khyber swears cannot be breached. But I suspect that he is close.”

  Corinne shivered and Mykh drew her close against his side. “Enough of that talk. We should not waste our energy fretting about what we cannot change.” He kissed the top of her head.

  SEVEN

  Corinne shivered again, thinking of everything that could go wrong. How on earth was she going to cure Mykh, defeat the Dark Warrior, eventually rescue Celeste . . .

  Then she sniffed and threw her head back. It was show time, dammit, and she had things to do, no matter what they cost her personally. At least she could pray that Jarred was treating Celeste well.

  She smiled up at Mykh, chin high. “We have nothing to fear but fear itself, as a wise man once said. So let’s get this show on the road and kick some butt. Figuratively speaking, that is,” she added hastily.

  Mykh blinked then chortled. “As you wish, my lady.” He swept her on board the galley with a flourish and escorted her carefully up the narrow stairs rising next to the cabin. The green and white canopy above it created the impression of a private room with filtered light and dancing shadows. Its only walls, if you could call them that, were the green and white silk panels fluttering at each corner. Its deck was covered by fabulous rugs and cushions and edged by a short railing. The only other furnishing was a small hanging table; it boasted no chairs, benches, sofas, or any other rigid supports. Based on years of writing erotic romance, Corinne judged it as competent to host any sexual act she’d ever written, plus some she’d only heard of.

  Mykh seated her on a large cushion much like the one she’d used next to his throne. A ram’s horn sounded as soon as Mykh sat down and the watching throng quickly fell silent. The galley immediately backed away from the pier, oars moving with quiet precision through the still waters. It stopped in the center of the inner harbor and the High Priestess lifted her voice in a speedy, liquid melody, rather like a traditional Hawaiian chant.

  When she paused, the cabin’s drummer played a few notes in an undulating rhythm, which the High Priestess answered, followed by the drummer again.

  Then the galley departed for the main harbor, slicing between the enormous gates showing Torhtremer’s Great Seal with its dragon and tigress. The only sounds were the drumbeat and the oars’ whispered contact with the water, casting ripples and eddies across the strong, steady waves of the great port. Roses and other blossoms from the morning prayers swirled across the water.

  The High Priestess began a new verse but the priestesses answered her this time, continuing the gentle rhythm of the drum by clapping.

  “Now we must kneel facing each other,” Mykh said quietly, his voice pitched so as not to carry. “Make certain that no cloth comes between you and the cushions.”

  Corinne blinked, blushed, and thought of a question. “Who faces forward?”

  “It is tradition that the Dragonheart does.”

  “Okay.” Corinne crawled into position on a velvet-covered pillow, glad that her robe was loose enough not to get caught. “What next?”

  “Sit down thusly, making certain that all is comfortable.”

  Seems easy enough so far, Corinne thought nervously, as she tweaked her skirt out of the way and crossed her legs, settling into the familiar lotus position.

  “Now we must close our eyes and look into ourselves, as we learn our bodies.”

  Learn our bodies? She slipped into the focused state smoothly, relieved not to think about that glorious male body so close to her. The boat rocked gently as it passed
through the waves, making her nether lips brush against the velvet. It felt so good that she did it again and again, delighting in her core’s first delicate warmth. She was glad that her full skirt hid her activities from the watching crowd, although surely they were far enough away that they couldn’t really see anything.

  Was this what he meant by “learning our bodies?” She peeked at Mykh from under her eyelids and caught him swinging his pelvis slowly back and forth. He was leaning back though, which must spread the cushions’ caress across a wider area. Corinne copied his movement and enjoyed the sensations seeping into her backside as well. Who would have ever thought that a boat and some cushions could be a sex toy?

  The High Priestess’s song strengthened as more priestesses joined in from the shore, while all of the boat’s passengers began to stamp their feet in unison with the drummer.

  “Tighten your inner muscles now as we sway,” Mykh purred. “And release them when you lean away from me. Tighten . . . and release.”

  Women were singing on both sides of the harbor, as Corinne obeyed him and sighed. This was a lovely way to enjoy a boat ride. Her breasts warmed, as her cunt’s enjoyment of this new game spread upwards. She unbelted the robe and tossed it aside, glad to be free of even that little restriction.

  The women’s voices fell silent, allowing the song to be carried by the drummer. The High Priestess chanted alone and was answered by a single man’s voice, then a chorus of men. A flute intertwined with the drum to carry the melody.

  “Now we must look at each other,” Mykh rumbled, sounding oddly determined.

  Corinne looked at him sharply. His eyes were closed and his jaw set. “Mykh? What is it?”

  “We must share with each other now,” he said slowly and opened his eyes. Their gaze meshed briefly then he glanced toward the great fortress visible on the shore.

  “Mykh, please . . .” Corinne reached out to him but he held up his hand. She settled back onto the pillow, still maintaining the steady, delicious rocking and clenching.

  His eyes swept the harbor once more before returning to her. “They say a sorceress can steal your soul if you look at her.”

  “I would never do that!”

  “I hope that is true. But I know that I must open myself to you in this way, if the rite is to be completed.” He was grimly determined but his eyes kept tracing the harbor edges.

  The High Priestess sang again to be answered by the men, and Corinne peeled off her dress, letting it drop slowly onto a rug. “Now I’m naked to you, too, Mykh. Does it help?”

  Mykh stared at her, taking in everything she’d never offered to him before of her own volition. Her nipples tightened under the heat in his golden eyes while her breasts rapidly rose and fell.

  “By the Horned Goddess, you’re a beauty, Corinne,” he said hoarsely and smiled at her.

  She smiled back at him, tremulously at first then with more confidence as his eyes softened. Ch’i sparked deep inside.

  “Let me equal your attire as our breathing becomes one,” Mykh growled. A single tug and his sash disappeared, followed by his kilt. His cock rested heavy and throbbing between his legs, aroused but not yet erect, as his hips moved slowly backwards and forwards.

  Corinne’s tongue touched her lip, eager to taste his delights, then she smiled into his eyes. Better play this game to the end according to its rules, not her own urges.

  It was easy now to synchronize breathing with him, even when he played games with how fast or how slow he filled his lungs. She began to believe that they were sharing a kiss, given the way his breath seemed to fill her lungs. Her cunt tingled and burned as moisture slipped down her thigh, while his cock filled further. Her meridians glowed with power as ch’i built higher.

  The musicians began to play a simple tune, which continued the priests’ chant. It was a merry tune that invited all listeners to share in the day’s glory. The priestesses joined in while the watchers on shore sang and stomped in unison with the drum.

  Mykh’s hands started to move with the beat and Corinne’s hands copied him. Their palms touched and frolicked together. Her arms moved with the rhythm, then her torso until soon her entire body was dancing with him. Her energy waltzed along its pathways, circling from her head down to her cunt.

  “Let me touch you, Corinne,” Mykh rumbled. He took a small flask from the table and poured oil into his hands, then rubbed it onto her arms.

  Shivers ran across her skin and down to her toes at the familiar scent of roses, cedarwood, and frankincense. The velvet rubbing her cunt wasn’t reaching the true itch deep inside. Her head lolled back as he caressed her shoulders.

  “Look at me, Corinne.” It was the softest possible order.

  “Yeah,” she sighed and fought her heavy eyelids back open. His golden eyes were intent on hers, molten with lust. “Oh yeah,” she agreed. “But I get to handle you, too.”

  “Yes,” Mykh growled. “Yes, you may and you will.” He watched hotly as she oiled him, tossing his hair back so she could reach every inch of his neck and shoulders. He was magnificent under her hand, plated muscles tensing and releasing as she stroked him. She massaged his feet and legs before she touched his cock, approaching it slowly as her hands worked up his thighs.

  He quivered when she cupped his balls, letting her hands’ warmth ease the fragrant seduction into his sac. He groaned when she gripped his cock for the first time, then again and again as she smoothed the oil into every frill and ruffle of his foreskin. He groaned once more when she worked the scented fluid into his cock, which stood proud and erect now. But he managed to keep moving to the song’s beat.

  “My turn,” he gasped, catching her wrist. She smiled at him and yielded the flask willingly. He poured the oil slowly into his hand, then stroked it over her breasts. A single fingertip touched her first, then his palm smoothed over her, until she was writhing to follow his hand, still following the undulating rhythm of the dance.

  She leaned backward to open herself to him. Mykh massaged her legs lightly then brought his knowing hands higher. He delved and played in her folds, smoothing the oil into her while exciting more cream from her. She felt molten and alive, like a volcanic hot pot bubbling heat and willingness to erupt. Ch’i sang through her, building with the people’s song.

  “Come astride me that we may join.”

  Corinne came to him eagerly, the dance’s rhythm so deep in her bones now that it sang in her every movement. She knelt over him and their hands met on his cock.

  “Mine, I think,” Corinne muttered and drummed her fingers on his aching rod in time to the music. Mykh arched in pleasure, growling softly as his hand fell away. She was so aroused and wet that he slid into her easily, although she allowed herself the luxury of a few shimmies as she sank down onto him.

  “By the Goddess,” he muttered and did a little wriggling of his own. “Now wrap your legs around me. The cushions . . . oh, Goddess! . . . use cushions, if you please.”

  Corinne did and also added pillows to their nest, increasing their comfort and stability. She rested her head against his shoulder, letting his heartbeat’s heavy thud ease her impatience. He rubbed her neck, as their breathing matched, and began to rock. She crooned happily at the familiar game and tightened around him rhythmically.

  “By the Goddess,” he muttered again and kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and settled into the embrace, enjoying the men’s song with its simple accompaniment of flute and drum.

  Soon the kissing game had turned into an exchange of breath, one inhaling when the other exhaled. Corinne’s ch’i was strong and urgent as it circled within her, almost scalding hot in its eagerness. She shared it with him in her breath, bringing it up from her cunt through her spine. She could feel his ch’i, the dragonfire at his core, fighting to rise up from his loins but something blocked it.

  She began to move up and down on his cock, building his ch’i. His hunger increased and she sensed his energy racing along his pathways. But it
always stopped just above the base of his spine. Corinne fought to understand what was wrong. She stopped moving on him and tried to think what a white sorcerer would do.

  “Mykh, can you focus your ch’i as if you were in battle? Make it follow the great circular pathway so it can be tapped?”

  “By the gods, Corinne, do you ask me to stop now?”

  “Please, Mykh, it’s important.”

  He blew out his breath. “Aye, I’ll do it for you.” His hips bucked and he shuddered under her. “Goddess help me,” he gasped. The High Priestess answered the men’s chant with her own and Mykh steadied, his breath rasping as it slowly evened out.

  Corinne looked at him with the eyes of sorcery that see power and not flesh, a trick that she’d learned from the white sorcerers and employed to write more than one battle.

  Mykh’s spirit burned fiery bright within him. But the central path up his spine that would let him share energy with her, or raise yang in his seed to fertilize a woman, was blocked. A cold wall sat across it, signed by the ice serpent’s malevolence and her own guilt.

  She focused her ch’i on the wall like a laser. It melted a bit around the edges but stayed firm. She reached for more energy and found a wellspring in the High Priestess’s chant with its male chorus. The wall swayed under her increased strength but obstinately remained standing.

  Corinne looked further and found the people of Torhtremer. Every one of them stood united on this day, wherever they were. And they brought the lifeblood of Torhtremer, from its deep roots in the earth, with them. She probed that cauldron cautiously and it blew her apart like a firestorm.

  She went spinning, frightened and disoriented in that world where power dwells. She instinctively snapped her ch’i back into herself . . . and felt the ice wall grow twice as high and wide.