by Meg Ripley
“Ah! So, our princesses hail from a mystical kingdom?” Gabriel asked, tone impressed. “Somewhere in the universe?”
Lachan shook his head.
“Wait a moment,” he bid his brother, squinting confused as he strained to read the sign posted just outside the castle’s arched entrance. “This sign reads, ‘The Coffee Castle.’ And look—there seems to be a whole line of people gathering around the front entrance, entering the castle at will with no intervention from guard nor hound.”
The brothers watched in wonder as the image before them dissolved gradually from their vision, soon replaced with an aerial view of what seemed for all intents and purposes to be a grand royal dining room.
Emblazoned along its stone walls with vividly illustrated pennants that depicted steaming cups of coffee, of all things, along with more mysterious potions called cappuccinos.
Standing at the center of this clean-tiled eating space was a short, curvaceous woman who still somehow managed to stand tall behind a shiny railed bar, tossing her disheveled mane of curly brown hair free from her round, fair-skinned face.
“Okay, who here ordered the Royal Roast black coffee?” she bellowed out in a near shriek, adding with a snide smirk, “The very same beverage that I’ve apparently consumed just a bit too much of this morning?”
The brothers laughed, both falling abruptly silent as they froze in their places, their eyes flying wide as they focused on the face and figure of the woman before them.
Although not a slender wraith or any sort of conventional beauty, the woman emitted a current of energy that seemed to catch them both by surprise; a warm wave of magnetic feeling that seemed reinforced by her keen sense of humor and boundless energy.
Her energy reached forth, in fact, to grab them by the heart, flowing free through their beings as their eyes narrowed and their pulses pounded in a single accord.
“My queen.”
These words proclaimed themselves on the wings of a dulcet echo, one that arose from the brothers’ throats in the form of a simultaneous declaration.
A deathly silence fell upon the chamber as Gabriel and Lachan stared at one another, shaking their heads from side to side as both seemed struck by an uncomfortable truth.
“I am sorry, brother, but this woman is the one for me,” Lachan clarified, pinning his brother with a sideways glance. “For when I beheld her, Gabriel, the pounding of my heart and the racing of my pulse told me in full the truth of the tale.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I felt the same thing, and at exactly the same moment,” he claimed, continuing in a low hushed tone, “Could it be, dear brother, that we will be forced to compete for the hand of our one intended queen?”
Lachan sighed.
“Nay, I know not,” he demurred with a shrug. “The Soothsayer has shown us both this image, and we each near exploded the moment we saw her face.” He paused here, adding as he fixed his brother with a grim, near apologetic look, “So it appears, dear brother, that we may just have to compete for the lady’s favor.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Well, unfortunately, this may be true,” he admitted, adding as he made a broad gesture between them, “Yet how are we to curry her favor at all, when we are thousands of light years away from Earth?”
Lachan smiled, a slow, downright devilish smile that his brother knew meant trouble.
“Brother,” he admonished Gabriel in a slow languid tone. “You well know the answer to that question. I mean really, who better than a mystical dragon prince to woo a fair lady?”
****
She saw dragons in her dreams.
These mystical emerald dragons, in fact, seemed to stand and exist as the only proof that she still held within her the capacity to dream.
As a graduate student majoring in Renaissance era literature, Sarah Coleman often lost herself in the myths and legends of days gone by; timeless tales of princes and dragons, wizards and queens, that never failed to intrigue and captivate her.
They did not, however, inspire her to dream; not lately, anyway.
Between her rigorous schedule of morning and afternoon classes and regular night shifts at The Coffee Castle, a bustling bistro located just minutes away from her modest loft apartment in the heart of Lexington, Florida, Sarah rarely found time to sleep—let alone dream. And when she did at times manage to catch a few winks in the wake of her cumbersome shift, her slumber tended to launch her psyche into the realm of a sprawling black void; one devoid of the dreams and the flights of fancy that had so enchanted her as a carefree youth.
And just then, the dreams began.
These mysterious but nonetheless pleasurable nocturnal visions always commenced innocently enough, with visions of massive but graceful winged creatures crossing the threshold of her ethereal dreamscape.
She identified them immediately as dragons of fantasy, noting their reptilian bodies, their gleaming eyes, their long stately noses and serpentine tongues, not to mention the coating of sleekly made scales that they wore like silken robes.
Fast and graceful they flew above her head, gliding and soaring with wings outstretched as they dazzled her with what seemed a choreographed show of stunning aerial artistry.
She always experienced a flash of dismay as their majestic bodies dissolved before her, both erupting in a flash of emerald light that seemed to consume them whole.
Soon the light itself dissolved to reveal a duo of even more beautiful creatures; beings that, for all intents and purposes, took the form of mortal males.
Both standing tall and statuesque above her in the realm of their own mysterious haven, both of the dragon men boasted bronzed sculpted features and toned muscular physiques.
Yet while one of her fantasy heroes had long, flowing midnight black hair and wide dark eyes, the other bore a luxurious mane of gold and eyes of ocean blue.
Although she never ventured to learn their names—indeed, she knew little about them—Sarah always opened her arms to them wantonly and willingly, savoring their kisses, their embraces, the firm but tender press of their hard, masculine bodies tight against her own as they declared her over and over again to be their queen.
I don’t even know their names; but every night I surrender myself to them, fully and willingly, she mused, adding in a dreamy tone, These two dream lovers of mine are so handsome and alluring, they leave me breathless.
Nearly every night they visited her dreams, seducing and loving her in many ways. And every morning she awoke in a pool of her own sweat, her heart and pulse pounding in a single divine accord as her more private, feminine body parts screamed out for the attentions of two men who—in truth—didn’t even exist.
Or do they? she often queried, reflecting on the detail and sheer intensity that brought each and every forbidden dream alive in her mind. This is Sarah Coleman’s life we’re talking about here. Weirder things have happened.
****
“Okay, who ordered the cappuccino, the drink that we all love but can’t even begin to spell? Oh, you, all the way down there at the end? Okay then, catch! Just kidding. It would not be becoming of a seasoned, dignified barista to actually throw scalding coffee in the direction of her customers. And, for that matter, I wouldn’t do it either.”
Carrying the frothy cappuccino to the tail end of her coffee bar, Sarah delivered the brew with an amused smirk to the hands of her laughing customer—a smirk that dissolved abruptly as she stared into the eyes of this particularly jovial patron, immediately losing herself in their crystalline depths as a sharp sliver of icy recognition went sailing up her spine.
Standing stock still at the end of the bar, she watched with amazed eyes as the man before her sipped calmly at his coffee, seeming totally unaware of the fact that he was the living and walking embodiment of her deepest and most intense fantasy.
Or one of them, at least.
With flowing golden hair, bronzed skin and a tall muscled frame—adorned in a tight ivory muscle shirt and
sculpting blue jeans—the gentleman before her looked just like the living, three-dimensional version of the golden-haired dragon man who visited her dreams.
“Hello, Sarah,” he spoke finally, his deep, sonorous voice sending tingles down her spine.
Sarah froze.
“How did you know my name?” she asked, voice low and disbelieving.
The man chuckled, taking a long deep sip of his rich cappuccino as he considered her question.
“I just read your nametag,” he explained.
Sarah guffawed outright.
“Well, that would explain it,” she exclaimed, her shoulders relaxing as she offered him her hand, “And what, may I ask, would your name be?”
It was the stranger’s turn to smile, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss.
“My name is Gabriel,” he introduced himself.
Somehow, though, he didn’t even need to give her that particular nugget of information. In the instant that their fingers touched, an unseen spark flared wildly between them as they stared deep into one another’s eyes. With certainty, Sarah realized that this was not her first meeting with the golden-haired stranger before her; it simply was the first meeting to be properly conducted in this plain of reality.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Gabriel kept hold of her hand as he revealed, “I know that this sounds completely insane, Sarah, but I’ve been a customer here for quite some time and have been altogether too bashful to approach you—until today.”
Sarah smiled.
“Well, I knew I had seen you somewhere before,” she revealed, her tone friendly but cryptic.
Gabriel nodded.
“Well would you, by any chance, like to see me again—perhaps in a quieter and more relaxed setting?” he proposed, inclining his golden head sharply in her direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”
****
Once again, Sarah found herself lost in a dream; only this time, she realized with a thrill, she was fully and completely awake.
Dressed in a flowing kaftan of sleek ivory silk that flowed gracefully to her feet, Sarah left her coffee bar behind and escaped into the night. Once she was seated at the edge of the lace covered table—one situated at the center of Le Jardin, an elite French restaurant she counted among her favorites—she sipped chamomile tea from a floral print cup and basked happily in the attentions of her dashing young dinner date.
Dressed for the occasion in a black silk dinner suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, the ethereal Gabriel insisted on spoon feeding her every bite of the filet mignon, escargot and fluffy chocolate mousse that comprised their elegant dinner.
“I must tell you, Gabriel, this meal is delicious,” she praised, adding with a casual shrug, “No match for the ramen noodles and cheese puffs that this college girl consumes on a regular basis, of course—but it’ll do.”
Pitching his bronzed head back, her dinner date let loose with a deep melodic laugh; the long strands of his silky gold hair falling gracefully across his broad shoulders as he took her hand in his.
“You, Madame, are an absolute delight,” he praised her, squeezing her fingers tight between his own. “And speaking of your studies, I am most intrigued to know, why is it that you happen to favor Renaissance literature?”
Sarah shrugged.
“I don’t know…there’s something about the stories and legends of that era that just transfixes me. I’m simply awestruck whenever I read another story in the Renaissance canon. I lose myself in the pages,” she breathed, adding more seriously, “Honestly, I never tire of reading about princes and queens, of studying their courtly ways and imagining myself as a Renaissance queen.” She paused here, waving away her own lofty sentiments with a most dismissive hand. “Ridiculous, I know.”
Her breath suspended as her attentive date raised her hand to his soft lips, holding her gaze as he released on a whisper, “Nay, it’s not ridiculous at all. You are a queen, my lady. Your wit, your strength, your humor, the way that you carry yourself. Perhaps you were indeed born at just the right time, but not in the right place.”
Sarah looked at him for a moment, wondering as to why his seemingly nonsensical words made perfect sense in her fanciful mind. And when her mysterious date asked her to dance, she felt almost compelled to accept.
Soon she and Gabriel moved and swayed with a certain grace across the Le Jardin dance floor; a small but distinguished space denoted by the presence of sleek red carpeting, lush wallpaper of silver brocade, and an overhanging candle-lined chandelier—a brilliant luminary that lent an angelic cast to the features of her already devastatingly handsome date.
Acting on instinct, Sarah threw herself deeper into Gabriel’s strong arms and graced him with a shy smile, issuing him a silent invitation that he seemed prepared to accept.
Seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, his mouth enveloped hers in the tenderest of advances; his agile hands running like warm water down the planes of her sturdy back.
Angling his head over hers to intensify their kiss, Gabriel held her closer than close as they continued to sway as a single radiant unit across the vast expanse of the dance floor.
Their fingers entangled as one as their joined beings made broad, slow circles on a smooth clean-tiled surface, with a besotted Sarah leaning full and hard into Gabriel’s heavenly kiss.
Leaning her body backward in a thrilling dip, Gabriel kissed her deeply as her breasts crushed his hard massive chest and he cradled her in his arms.
Finally, he surged upward with her in his arms, breaking their kiss as she moaned in protest.
“As much as I would love to continue this dance, my lady—indeed, this very evening—I fear that it is most difficult for me to resist the intense temptation that you represent,” he told her, cupping her flushed cheeks in two tender hands as he kissed her smiling lips.
“I don’t want you to go, Gabriel,” she demurred, losing herself in his arms as he encompassed her entire body in a long last embrace. “I don’t want this night to end. It’s simply been…magical.”
“It has,” he released on a soothing whisper, running his fingers through the strands of her long dark hair as he led her from the dance floor. “For now, my princess, I do have to go.” He paused here, adding as he seared her lips with a final kiss, “Please believe me when I say that I will see you again. And soon.”
****
“Miss? MISS? I asked you for a black coffee, not green tea.”
Idling near the far end of the beverage bar at The Coffee Castle, Sarah shrugged as she regarded one of her regular customers—an older, silver-haired gentleman who always seemed just a bit annoyed at one thing or another—with a slight, vacant grin.
“Well, green tea does have caffeine, much like the beverage you originally ordered,” she reasoned, adding as she reached quickly for the nearest coffeemaker, “Sorry about that, sir; one black coffee, coming right up!”
Once the chagrined customer took leave of her coffee bar, Sarah took up a nearby dishrag and polished the bar’s mahogany surface, all the while daydreaming about the prince of a man who seemed determined to occupy her every waking thought.
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening, she found herself reliving every last moment of her date with Gabriel. She heard his deep melodic voice, she experienced his succulent kiss, she felt his big strong arms around her; and through it all, she repeatedly asked herself the same probing question.
“When will I see him again?” she said aloud at one point. “He promised that he would return to me, but when?”
Just then, she froze as she felt the heat of a sudden, penetrating gaze, one that seemed to sear through to her very soul as her heart pounded in response.
“It has to be him,” she reasoned, taking a deep sustaining breath as she jolted her head upward. “Who else would have this effect on me?”
Her question was answered moments later, as her gaze collided with that of a gorgeous m
an who seemed like something out of a dream.
“Two in one week?” she queried, arching a single eyebrow in a show of keen curiosity. “What the….”
All coherent thought scattered moments later, as Sarah’s errant gaze perused the perfection of the man who sat just across the room.
Boasting a tall and muscular frame, the stranger had long luxurious ebony hair that fell past his shoulders, framing a bronzed chiseled face with carved cheekbones, full lips and wide dark eyes—eyes that now seem riveted on her as he tipped his coffee cup straight in her direction.
Lifting her hand to greet her apparent admirer with a broad friendly wave, Sarah seared him with a dreamy smile; her heart pounding as she felt an immediate connection to the handsome stranger before her.
Responding in the affirmative, he immediately rose upward from his seat and made smooth, slow strides straight in her direction.
Soon she found herself face to face with yet another creature of fantasy; this one whose smile seemed more wicked than sweet.
“Good evening, Miss,” he said, his tone deep and sultry as he took her hand in his. “I suppose that if we’re going to sit around and stare at one another all night, we may at some point wish to know one another’s names.”
Opening her mouth to meet this obvious come on with some form of a saucy retort, Sarah found her speech stolen and breath suspended as emotion overcame her; an odd but not unpleasurable feeling of divine warmth that ran rampant through her entire being.
The moment that their hands clasped between them, an unmistakable electric current seemed to bind and link them as they shared a secret smile.
“I would call it fate,” she reasoned in silence, “but this is exactly the same feeling that grabbed a hold of me the moment I met Gabriel, just two days ago. What on earth is going on here?”
Her troubled meditation was disrupted by the sound of that sexy deep voice; one that again resounded as he kept a firm but gentle hold on her soft, fair-skinned hand.
“I must know your name, Miss,” he told her, squeezing her fingers tightly between his as he inclined his head sharply in her direction.