Slowly, I sank down to the ground to lay in the soft grass with my mate and delighted in knowing that he was mine as I leaned over to kiss him. His hand came up to tangle in my hair as the kiss deepened. I worked the buttons on his shirt, throwing it open, as he licked and nibbled at my neck. I worked on his pants next, freeing his cock for my taking. Straddling his hips, I impaled myself on his thick shaft. Placing my hands on his chest, I rode my love. Taking him deep into me and crying out his name as wave upon wave of ecstasy washed over me. My climax setting off his as my pussy clamped down on him. As his seed fills me, I lean forward to lay on his chest. As we lay together, still joined, happiness fills my heart and I know there is no place I had rather be, than right here beside my love.
“I love you Galen, with all my heart.”
“I love you Aleeka, I have from the very first moment I saw you.”
THE END
Exclusive – The Dragon’s Treasure (Never Published)
Chapter One
Monica
The thing about being a cryptozoologist is that you have to have thick skin. People laugh, ridicule, and look down their snooty little noses you when you tell them what you do. They call it a pseudoscience, a hoax, maybe even a joke. And that's only if they're being nice.
Of course, it's not all that surprising. Most people don't think outside their little boxes. Their comfort zones. They see the world one way and one way only. So, when you tell them that you're studying Bigfoot, the Chupacabra, or any other number of cryptids, that challenges their notion of the world, it pulls them out of their comfort zones. Which, of course, makes them think you're a loon or a crackpot.
Yeah, to be a cryptozoologist, it has to be a passion for you. Something that fires you up inside. And you can't worry about what other people think. You have to do it for you.
It took me a while to learn those lessons. I endured a lot of angst and frustration with people and their attitudes about what I did. Even lost a few friends over it along the way. Eventually though, I stopped trying to share my enthusiasm for the subject with others. I learned to reserve it for meeting with other people who understood me and shared that same passion.
We cryptozoologists are like our own little club. A secret society. Or maybe, judging by the reactions of others, just a colony of lepers. But I don't worry about pleasing others. Or worry about what they might think about me or my pursuits. Not anymore, anyway.
For me, it's exciting. Thrilling. And endlessly fascinating. I don't see the world in strict shades of black and white. I know there are endless shades of gray and there is more to this world than we can see or possibly comprehend. To me, it's the height of arrogance to think we know it all and that there is nothing out there capable of surprising us anymore.
“Are you in?”, comes the voice of Spoon – my best friend – over my Bluetooth headset.
I scramble up the pile of rocks that are clogging up the cave and squeeze through a narrow opening at the top. It takes a little doing – and a scrape on the elbow – but eventually, I get through and scramble down the other side.
It's darker than pitch, so I pull out my headlamp, put it around my head, and turn it on. The beam of light slices through the shadows, but much of the passageway remains in inky darkness.
“Yeah,” I say. “It's a tight fit, but I'm in.”
“What do you see?”
“Not a lot,” I reply. “It's darker than hell in here.”
“That's why flashlights were invented, you know.”
“Smartass.”
Bernard Witherspoon – otherwise known as Spoon – has been my best friend since high school. While he's not as into cryptozoology as I am – truthfully, he's not really into it at all – he never discourages me from pursuing it. Never laughs at me or calls me ridiculous. He encourages me to do those things that make me happy – no matter how ridiculous others might think they are. Sometimes – like today – he even tags along.
He's always telling me that we've got one go 'round in this life, so we need to do the things that bring us the most joy. It took some time – and more years than I care to remember – being bored stiff with life as a CPA before that advice finally took.
I haven't been wholly impractical about things though. I used the money I'd saved from my job as well as a moderate inheritance I received after my parents passed to open a Tae Kwan Do and self-defence studio. Being a black belt myself and believing that everybody should be able to defend themselves, it just made sense for me.
My studio does pretty well – well enough that I can have several full-time instructors. That allows me the freedom to do what I love – chasing monsters.
I fish a flashlight out of my bag and flip it on, sweeping it around the darkened cavern. I'm standing in a long passageway and the beam of light doesn't go far enough to show me just how far it goes. But hey, in for a penny, in for a pound. There's no way I'm going back out there before I see where this tunnel goes – and see if what I'm searching for is actually down there.
“So, what is it we're doing here again?” Spoon asks.
“Well, you,” I say, “are making sure somebody knows where I am just in case this cave collapses on me.”
“Right,” he replies. “I'm here to tell the coroner where to find your body.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“Seriously, Indy,” he said. “What's in that cave that has you so fired up? You've been talking about coming out here for weeks.”
I pick my way carefully along the rocky path in the tunnel – the last thing I want to do is turn an ankle or hurt myself. Spoon won't be able to get me out of there – and judging by the wall of rocks I climbed over, I have doubts that emergency crews will be able to either. It's a theory I have no intention of testing.
“If I find it, you'll be the first to know,” I reply. “Well, second, actually.”
“Okay fine,” he says. “But if this thing turns out to be like The Descent and you have all kinds of demony things chasing you, you're on your own, baby.”
“Noted,” I say and laugh.
Spoon and I are big movie buffs and sometimes enjoy all day movie marathons. Although, those have become a little less frequent since he got together with Tommy. But he's happy, so I'm happy. We get together when we can and still enjoy ourselves – which usually includes a lot of movie references and bits of dialogue. It's just our thing.
Hence, him calling me Indy – as in Indiana Jones. He said the name is apt given how much time I spend crawling through caves, looking for mysterious objects and all. I tried to correct him at first – my name is Monica – but eventually, I just gave up and it stuck.
“Not even a little hint?” Spoon asks.
“If I told you, you wouldn't even understand,” I reply. “It's more of a visual thing.”
“Let me guess,” he says. “You're looking for Bigfoot's family photo album?”
I laugh. “Such a smartass,” I say. “No, what I'm looking for is older than Bigfoot. Much older.”
“Intriguing,” he replies. “I didn't know we were going antiquing today. I would have worn more comfortable shoes.”
Spoon has always been able to make me laugh. No matter how down I'm feeling, he can just help put my mind and heart at ease. He never fails to help take my mind off of things until I get to feeling better. He's a great guy. One of the best I've ever known. And if he was straight, maybe my personal life wouldn't be the hot mess it currently is.
The tunnel ends in a cavern. Shining my light around, it's roughly circular in shape and has walls that are oddly smooth. And as I shine my light around, I can see it's not accidental. This chamber had been carved and smoothed out at some point in history by somebody – or something. On the walls, there are paintings and some markings that look sort of like old hieroglyphics or something.
My pulse quickens and my heart begins to race as I realize – this is it. This is what I've been looking for. And it's in that moment I realize that part of me honestly didn't t
hink I'd ever actually find it. That didn't think it was actually real.
It's a shocking realization to make to myself. All this time I've been out here hunting for it, not to mention the countless hours of research I'd put in – and in that moment, I realized I'd been lying to myself all along. Or at least, infusing myself with more optimism than was probably real or practical.
But none of that matters now. I'm here. I found it.
“You're awfully quiet in there, Indy,” Spoon says. “You still alive?”
“Yeah,” I reply, almost breathless. “I – I'm fine.”
“Really?” he asks. “Because you don't sound fine. You're all out of breath. What's up?”
I don't know how to explain it to him – this feeling I have. Finding the chamber is a huge deal for me. Of course, it means nothing if the object I think is here actually isn't. If it's not, this is just an empty room.
“Stand by,” I say.
I move to what looks like a stone altar in the center of the room. I marvel as I run my hands over the glyphs carved into the smooth, polished, dark rock. I test the top of the altar and find that it's solid. Unmoving. But I have to believe that what I'm looking for is there.
Putting my hands against the edge of the top, I lean into it. Pushing as hard as I can, driving with my legs, I feel it give. It's slight, but it moved. I felt it move. A surge of adrenaline accompanies the rush of excitement flowing through me. I put my back into it and drive forward as hard as I can – and the stone lid of the altar slides off, crashing to the floor.
The sound of stone collapsing and breaking is loud, echoing around the chamber, and kicking up a cloud of dust that sends me into a coughing fit.
“Monica,” Spoon's voice, full of concern, comes through the headset. “Are you okay? What was that noise?”
I take a minute to catch my breath and stop coughing. “Fine,” I say. “I'm good, Spoon.”
“What was that noise?”
I fall silent and feel my eyes grow wide as I look inside the altar. Excitement doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling in that moment. Stunned. Shock, maybe. As I look at the object nestled inside the stone altar, I feel tears well in my eyes.
I found it. It's real and I actually found it.
Chapter Two
“So, that's beautiful,” Spoon says.
I nod, still unable to speak as I admire the object sitting between us on my kitchen table. It's silver, studded with dark stones, and is about the shape of an egg – though a bit larger. And it is covered in those same intricate runes or glyphs that covered the walls inside the chamber.
“What is it exactly?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I honestly don't know.”
Spoon looks at me and shakes his head. “Then how did you know it was there?”
I give him a small smile. “Research.”
He nods. “Okay, so is it like Mayan or Aztec, maybe?” he asks. “I mean, those carvings look kinda Mayan or Aztec.”
I shake my head. “No, they're not Mayan or Aztec.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “You're not really going to tell me this is like a Bigfoot thing, are you?”
“No, it's not a Bigfoot thing,” I say, my voice still tinged with awe.
“Then – what is it?”
I look up at Spoon, giving him a small smile. “If I explain it to you, you'll think I'm crazy.”
He shrugs. “I already think you're crazy,” he replies with a grin. “It's part of your charm.”
I sigh, unable to take my eyes off of the thing. “A couple of years ago, I found some old texts on an ancient race of beings – dragon-people.”
“Dragon-people?”
Even though he's been my biggest supporter, not even Spoon can keep the skepticism out of his voice. Not that I blame him, really. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds. But, I nod.
“Dragon-people,” I reply. “More specifically, people who can somehow transform themselves into dragons.”
Spoon runs a hand through his hair and I watch his eyes shift from me to the object on the table. I can tell he's trying to wrap his head around this reality and the reality of the silver egg-shaped object on the table before us.
“I was intrigued, of course,” I say. “And I researched everything I could find. Information is hard to find – there's just not a whole lot of lore on the subject. But references to these things show up in ancient Egypt – earlier.”
“Okay,” Spoon says, pointing at the egg. “Then what's this?”
“Honestly, I don't know,” I reply. “Some of the texts I read though, talk about artifacts of these dragon-people. Objects that hold some great magical power. This is one of them.”
Spoon runs his hand over the smooth surface of the egg, looking at it with both awe and like it's a coiled snake, ready to strike.
“So, what does this thing do?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don't know,” I admit. “To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure it even existed. There was a big piece of me that thought I was just on another wild goose chase.”
A long moment of silence stretched out between us, both of us simply sitting there, staring at the silver and dark stone encrusted egg.
“What are you gonna do with it, Indy?”
I shake my head. “Not sure yet,” I reply. “Maybe talk to people in the crypto community better versed in the dragon-people than I am. See if they can figure out what this is and what it does?”
“You don't think it has one of these dragon-people inside, just waiting to pop out like some jack-in-the-box from hell, do you?”
I laugh. “Probably not,” I say. “Hopefully.”
Spoon looks at his watch. “I should probably go,” he says. “Tommy's taking me out tonight.”
I nod. “Thanks for having my back today.”
He gives me a grin and reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I've always got your back,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“I do,” I say. “And that's one of the many reasons I love you.”
He stands up. “Be careful with that thing, Indy,” he says. “I don't know what it is, but something about just feels – off.”
Snapping him a quick salute, I grin. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
I hear the front door close behind Spoon, leaving me alone with my prize. I stare at it, not sure what I'm feeling in that moment. Part of me knows I should be celebrating. This egg validates all of my hard work, my belief, and more importantly, it validates everything we in the crypto community are doing. This is solid, tangible proof that the world is indeed, much bigger and the creatures in it, much stranger than anybody can even begin to imagine.
This is actual proof that we're not just a bunch of crackpots and loons out chasing shadows and imaginary monsters.
But something in the back of my mind is stunting my enthusiasm. I can't stop the ominous feeling that's settled down over me. It's heavy and oppressive. The egg seems to be vibrating with this – dark energy.
I can't explain it. Don't understand it. But even Spoon picked up on it, so I know it's not just all in my head. There is a darkness that seems to be saturating the very air in the room around me. Tainting it. It's irrational, but I feel completely on edge and I can't shake the feeling that something bad is coming. Something really, really bad.
I wrap the egg up in cloth and set it in the steel strongbox. Closing the lid, I lock it up and put it in its hiding place – beneath one of the floorboards in the living room. Yeah, maybe it's a little paranoid of me, but I'll sleep better knowing exactly where it is at all times.
That is, if this persistent and increasing ominous feeling allows me to get any sleep at all.
Chapter Three
Juran
Our blades ring as they connect when I parry a thrust aimed at my chest, pushing the blade to the side. I spin to the left, producing a long, curved dagger as I move. She's ready for it though, and uses her own dagger to deflect my slashing blade.
She brings her sword back to bear, taking a big cut at my neck – and that's her fatal mistake. I deftly knock her blade to the side, her momentum carrying her forward. Spinning behind her, I pull her against my body and lay the blade of my dagger against her throat.
“It's just not your day, is it, love?” I whisper in her ear.
I laugh and am rewarded with a hard elbow to the stomach that drives the air straight out of my lungs. I double over, clutching my gut, when I feel the steel of her blade beneath my chin. She raises my head so that I'm looking her in the eye and can see the wicked little smile on her face.
“I guess it's not your day,” she says. “Is it, love?”
I take a moment to catch my breath before I stand up laughing and shake my head. I lift my sword and give her a salute. She smiles wide and bows.
“Well done, Lenja,” I say. “You're learning to improvise. Take advantage of your opponent's weaknesses.”
“Good thing for me that you're an arrogant ass,” she laughs.
“Indeed.”
Lenja is one of my students – one of the more promising in my group of recruits. It's my job to train our young warriors – the next group of potential Guardians. Get them ready to battle the Ezakoril – the dark Dragons we refer to as the Shadowlords. Their only goal is to dominate this world and enslave the people. They believe that humanity is a plague upon the world and their only real use is to serve the Ezakoril. Or be killed.
My people, the Rezakul, believe in the opposite. For the most part, we enjoy humanity. We fight to defend them from threats like the Shadowlords. Although we could exterminate humanity if we wanted to, the Rezakul believe that this world is theirs as much as ours – and we are content to share it.
“Juran.”
I turn to find Thysel, the commander of the Guardians, standing there. I bow my head and when I notice my young charge not following suit, elbow her in the ribs. She gives me an annoyed look and then seems to remember herself, bowing her head in deference to Commander Thysel. He chuckles softly and shakes his head.
“I hate to take you away from your lessons,” Thysel says. “But we have an important matter to discuss. Please, walk with me.”
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