Ivy's Dragon: Dragons of Telera (Book 7)

by Lisa Daniels

  “A simple, minor enchantment, but we have to start somewhere.” Hattie coaxed Esmer patiently, until her tea took on a more minty flavor. “We’ll make a witch of you, yet.”

  Esmer smiled shyly, proud of her effort. She felt strangely bereft when they departed Hattie’s residence, though the witch told them they were welcome at any time, and she’d make an effort to visit High Roost once a week to impart lessons to Esmer.

  Esmer left, positive, loaded up with Gerran’s trinkets and her new weapon. Which she didn’t quite intend to hand back to her father just yet.

  They made it halfway through the forest towards Gerran’s launch point, as he didn’t want to waste the teleport when they could make it back safety, when they bumped into five people wending the path before them.

  The knights and mages regarded Gerran for a moment, who was in his human form, before their eyes slid over Esmer.

  “A princess!” A knight declared, snapping up the visor over his face, revealing wispy, handsome cheekbones. “Why… it’s princess Esmer!”

  The Questers appeared to get enormously excited over the revelation. “We’re Questing for you,” the knight declared, his white teeth gleaming brilliantly. “Did you escape the dragon? Did another Quester save you?”

  Awkward. “Actually, I’m just heading back to the dragon’s home now. With my fine travelling companion,” Esmer said. “You don’t have to come and rescue me. Really. I’m quite happy there.”

  She didn’t really expect them to listen, but when one of the mages announced, “She’s under a mind spell, clearly!” They started bristling up.

  “Well. Uh, princess, if you come with us, we’ll take you to your dragon. That will be good with you… yes?” The knight then examined the two swords she had tucked on either side of her waist. “Those look like mighty rare swords you have there. Do you know how to use them?”

  In response, Esmer withdrew the Sword of the Mountain from its sheath, and rested her hand upon the Slayer, hoping that maybe it would help her know how to use this particular weapon. Power hummed inside the sword, and she sensed a foreign intrusion in her mind at the contact. Curious, she touched the presence in her mind, and suddenly, hundreds of rocky spikes spewed out of the sword at once. It killed two of the Questers instantly, before one of the mages put up a barrier to protect his other two companions.

  “Oops,” Esmer said. She waved the Sword of the Mountain haphazardly, and a miniature sized mountain popped up lightning fast underneath the remaining Questers, sending them catapulting off into the distance.

  “Amateurs,” Gerran said, shaking his head as the two dead Questers dissolved, leaving their gear behind. “But at least they had extra lives. Probably the only thing they did do right.”

  Esmer blinked at the tiny mountain she’d just created, before stowing away the Sword of the Mountain. “Maybe I shouldn’t be swinging this thing around.”

  “Maybe,” Gerran agreed. “Want to race me to the launch? Let’s see how fast your boots are.”

  Shaking her head, Esmer darted after the sprinting prince, elated, surprised she’d managed to defeat five Questers so easily, even though the artefacts she wielded were so powerful. She just… she’d never seen something like that happen before. Not from her hands. Not from objects under her control.

  I really have been missing out all these years.

  Letting out a roar of delight, she raced after Gerran, treading on a poor, unfortunate frog upon the way.

  “Really!” The frog exclaimed, his voice rather muffled.

  Chapter Five

  Finally back in Gerran’s abode, Esmer sighed. One hot bath later, and a change of clothes, she surveyed her surroundings, immensely grateful for the chance to be here. To be a part of such a crazy, colorful world, full up with magic, witches, powerful artifacts and a rather generous dragon prince who happened to shift into an incredibly hot human form.

  She missed wielding the enchantments, though the Sword of the Mountain lay at the side of her bedchambers, waiting for her decision on what to do with it. She didn’t know whether she wanted to return it to her kingdom or not, though she suspected that if she did, the Questers would miraculously stop. On the other hand, if her father got wind of the Sword of the Mountain being in her possession, the Questings might worsen. They might get serious contenders with expensive and deadly Quest items to make things a whole lot harder for the dragons of High Roost to handle.

  I’ll think on it later. She closed her eyes, shivers going down her back when Gerran entered the room, his chest fully exposed, displaying a hairless, muscular mass that captured her attention, just as much as his face did.

  A part of her felt anxious, because her growing attraction to the prince compounded itself by the fact that Esmer’s experience with sex involved largely the realms of imagination and what her right hand was capable of doing down there.

  Still, she had enough of an idea to get things started. If I want to. If I dare do the single worst thing a princess could do.

  At that thought, an impish smile hit her lips. Just the idea of pissing off her parents was enough for her to open her eyes, reach for Gerran’s hand, and drag him onto the sofa with her.

  “You’ve been making my life very interesting,” Esmer murmured, now placing her lips near his ears, letting her voice dip low and soft. “I feel like I should reward you for everything you’ve done.”

  “Do you, now?” Gerran’s hand slid along her nightgown, fingers digging into the flimsy material. His eyes glinted in a mix of lust and fascination, and his nose pressed into her neck, sniffing, before his tongue unfurled and touched the soft flesh there. The heat seared through her skin, wrapping around her organs and making the bees in her stomach frantic.

  Everything about this life appealed to her. Dragons shifting into humans came as a nice bonus to an already improved situation, though she still caught some stark similarities between the humans and the dragons. Both like protocol, tradition and rules. Both found someone like her odd, and the others who appreciated her were a little odd themselves. Like Gerran. Like Hattie, who had taught her to turn ordinary tea into mint flavored specialities. A taste of the things to come.

  Speaking of coming… she grinned and kissed Gerran upon his cheeks, arms tight around the small of his back, as he draped his just under her nightshirt, touching the smooth skin there.

  “Knew you’d be so soft,” he murmured, his warmth radiating out. “I imagined in my mind what you’d feel like. I imagined combing away your red hair…” one hand lifted to thread fingers through her tresses, running through without resistance, “What your lips might taste like –” his lips pressed onto Esmers, pliable and craving the contact, his mouth parting hers to allow a tongue to slip through. “And the sounds you might make when I’m inside you.”

  The arousal intensified inside Esmer, soaring to new heights, and she whimpered as the same fantasy burned through her, anticipating what he might feel like within her, if he’d be strong or hard, if he could make her climax like she did with her hands, or treat her like the way she saw people endure in the books.

  They continued kissing one another, open mouthed kisses with a hint of what was to come, and he worked at getting her naked during the process, caressing her body, enjoying it as she jumped and wriggled underneath him, and rubbed against his growing erection. With her breasts exposed, he peppered them with wet kisses, paying attention to each one of her nipples, which stirred surprise and longing in her heart. Her head banged against the sofa armrest as he took off the last item of clothing, leaving her naked in his home. He groaned when he saw how wet she was down there, and she rubbed against his thigh, making it damp.

  She desperately wanted to know what his hardness would feel like within her, and worked at his pants, tugging them off so that his erection showed itself to her, full blooded and ready for action. Her hands grasped it, stroking the length gently, and Gerran closed his storm blue eyes for a moment, sighing in pleasure, and making Esmer elic
it a similar noise.

  His hips rocked slightly, moving his length in her hand, before he reached down to her core, and pressed his fingers against her bundle of nerves.

  Esmer let out a delighted scream, her body instantly shuddering from the delicious touch, her thighs tensing up as he flooded her with emotion, from head to toe. Her whole body reacted, building up pressure as if ready to explode, and when he finally slid inside her, his enormous, smooth length parting the folds down there and burying into her, she cried out, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. He started off slow, letting her adjust to his size, because compared to him she was quite small in body, before he glided within her, picking up the pace when he heard her moans of pleasure, her please and whimpers for more.

  Everything inside Esmer burned and crackled, a tantalizing mix of fire and electricity, of heat thawing out whatever ice that encased her, leaving her pink, raw and sensitive, his every motion sending ripples over her skin, and the little hairs on her arms. The leather sofa underneath them creaked with their activity, and molded around their shape to make the experience ever more powerful.

  This was better than the things Esmer went through in her mind. Once she let go of the inhibitions that a lifetime of princessy rearing had given her, from the proper way to behave, to the unforgivable attitudes a woman committed to make themselves more like serfs and peasants, she found herself revelling in the moment. Drunk on it.

  The limitations were just that. Ways to stop her living her life to the full. Ways to control her so she couldn’t live with complete freedom, always afraid of what others might think of her, and what being a princess truly meant.

  She also managed to fulfil her fairy Godmother’s blessing, though not quite in the way anyone had expected. She seriously needed to find a way to contact the Godmother at some point, maybe send her some nice gifts.

  For now, though, only one thing mattered, and that was the prince above her, with his hooded eyes, those mesmerizing blue irises, his strong, solid body that he seemed in full control of, and the confidence he exhibited with every breath and every shift of his muscles. Someone who desired her, and appreciated her for who she was. Hard to not feel overwhelmed by that knowledge.

  Her heart danced with his, and she quickly went to stroke herself on the bundle of nerves, feeling herself shudder and climax, the wave undulating through her, and her core convulsing around his length, making him gasp and snap his eyes open. Not so long after that, he came as well, his arm muscles bunching around her, and she clawed into his bare back, still shivering from the pleasure.

  It took them a few moments to calm down, to lose the faint blush of their cheeks, which still burned from the excitement, and for Gerran to sit as comfortably as possible beside her on the leather sofa, which now held the distinctive indent of Esmer’s body.

  Breathless, Esmer managed to say, “Well, who would have thought being a dragon’s princess came with so many perks?”

  Gerran, rubbing his face against his arm to rid of some of the sweat from his strenuous activity, chuckles, his chest rumbling from the sound. “I could say the same for having a princess. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you in their lives.”

  Esmer’s cheeks reddened from the compliment, and she let out a sigh. “It’s just a shame in a way I needed to be abducted to find out where I really belong.”

  “Excuse me. You stood on the battlements, screaming for me to take you. Waving that statue thing. It’s not really an abduction if you wanted to go.”

  “Technicalities,” Esmer said, grinning, before burrowing into Gerran’s neck, and breathing in his strong, musky scent.

  There was a short pause, before Gerran whispered, “I hope you’ll stay for longer. There’s so much more I can show you. Though it won’t be easy. We’ll have to deal with Questers a lot. But I’ll fight every single one.”

  “It’s okay,” Esmer said, smiling. “I have a way to stop them.” She indicated the Sword of the Mountain. “My father would sell out his entire family and probably half his kingdom, just to get that thing back.”

  “Would he, now…” Gerran said, eyes glinting in calculation.

  “No. You already have a kingdom. Why do you want half of a human one, too?”

  “It’s not my kingdom yet. And I’m second in line to the throne. I might never get it in my lifetime. Always need to entertain other options, you know?” Gerran rested his chin on the top of her head, absently stroking her hair.

  “No,” Esmer said, a hint of steel in her voice. As much as she thought her family could do with some ass kicking, having half their kingdom taken over by dragons wasn’t the way to go about it.

  “But you’ll think about it?” Gerran hugged her tighter. “What if I said I loved you? Would that change anything?”

  Esmer’s heart fluttered, but she kept her voice under control. “Maybe. If you say it enough and prove it enough.”

  “Hmm,” he said, imitating Hattie’s gruff exclamation. Esmer giggled, and Gerran chuckled as well, comfortable to lie there together with her.

  They both retired to bed shortly afterwards, with Esmer’s mind active, churning past the pleasant, floaty things inside to consider where her life would lead next. She could contact that princess, Marea. Forge a connection with all the other dragons and their accompanying princesses, and learn to create enchantments so powerful, that people would give her anything she wanted.

  Except, well, she already had everything she wanted. She wanted to go on more adventures with Gerran, maybe fight some monsters, lift curses and live her life with the passion it previously lacked. She wanted to strengthen the bond between them so intensely, that they’d never need anyone else again. She wanted Gerran to rely on her as much as she relied on him.

  She fell asleep with a smile on her face, Gerran’s arms wrapped around her, dreaming of the future that awaited.

  The End

  Captured by Kerric Description

  Taken by the Dark Clans. Scooped up by a dragon. The warrior princess must fight.

  Princess Ruelle comes from a central kingdom, which usually sees very little raids from monsters and thieves. However, a curse has been placed upon her by an evil fairy Godmother, one that ensures she’ll be taken on her eighteenth birthday, and never return. Her mother and father prepared her as best as able, but they can’t prevent her being stolen by members of the Dark Clan when she hits eighteen.

  The dragon known as Kerric, hired to be a bodyguard to the slavers, notices the spark in Ruelle. He admires her combat proficiency, and realizes she may be the one he’s looking for. The one that will help him succeed in a Quest, and obtain a legendary artefact. She also may be attractive in other ways, too…

  Together, a princess and a dragon must overcome their differences and learn to work together.

  Captured by Kerric

  Dragons Take a Princess

  (Book 3)

  By: Dalia Wright

  Chapter One

  Despite the curse given to Ruelle by an evil fairy Godmother, she tried looking on the bright side of things. She came from a central kingdom – that could be considered lucky. Where border kingdoms were ravaged by dragon raids weekly and attacked by either monsters in the Wilderness, or Dark Clan humans seeking a bit of profit – central kingdoms remained secure. She supposed it made sense, given that the dragons had dozens of other pretty kingdoms to munch their way through, way out of reach of Ruelle’s home. It did mean though that life in a central kingdom tended to be dull at times.

  Unfortunately, Ruelle’s evil fairy Godmother inflicted a gloomy curse that she would be taken by darkness on her eighteenth birthday, and never find her way back home again.

  A pretty nasty curse, to say the least, so her parents went slightly fanatical in the preparation of their daughter. They forced Ruelle to learn how to fight physically. They gave her the best education royalty had to offer, though she couldn’t get the hang of magic for the life of her. Whilst her sisters did normal princess things an
d married normal princes, Ruelle was forced to do things she didn’t want to do. (She did get over it somewhat.)

  King Ure and Queen Isabel cared for her, of course. She never suspected otherwise from her parents.

  Her mother had said once, “The exceptional nature of the curse led us to believe you would need to fend for yourself once the darkness takes you. We don’t know where the darkness will come from, but we can at least do everything in our power to make sure you’re prepared.”

  “Why not just get the curse reversed?”

  “Oh, we couldn’t possibly do that,” Isabel said, apparently shocked at the suggestion. “You can’t reverse curses and blessings. It just isn’t done.”

  Ruelle failed to see the logic in this. Although being blessed with forever shiny teeth and gleaming flaxen hair probably was a nice blessing, curses ranged from falling into deep sleeps and turning into frogs – depending on the fashion trend the evil fairy Godmothers happened to be following at the time. A decade ago, it became the rage to curse people to “feel the weight of their lies”, so when they lied, they grew fat. The prince of Val Kingdom now weighed something close to four hundred pounds – and no one had yet chosen to marry him.

  Still, despite everything, she enjoyed the power that came into her veins. The ability to fend off someone with a sword and shield, she knew how to do. She knew how to do flips and to stretch her body to the limits. The only thing she never learned was magic. Her despairing master tried to teach her water magic, but to no avail.

  “You must be like the water in your thoughts! Or you will be little more use than a wet rag.”

  He tried. She just didn’t have it in her blood.

  A tapping noise jolted Ruelle out her reverie. She scowled at the pixie giving her a smug grin, his little wings flapping as he bashed her wooden cage again with a stick. He resembled the size of a small bird, his tiny eyes lit up with malice.

  “Don’t you be sleeping, little girl! Got a big day for you, today!” He giggled maniacally when she spat at him. “Oh, not very ladylike, are you?” He waved two of his pixie friends over from the shadows, and they all pointed and laughed at Ruelle, who severely wished she could rip off the cage door and attack the miserable little bastards.