by T. S. Ryder
“What’s happening?” Dell asks.
“I don’t know,” Minerva says.
“Help,” I say, my voice growing hoarse. “I can’t breathe.”
My lungs contract, waiting for air. They are unable to get any.
“Help her!” Dell looks to Minerva. She walks to her kitchen, gathers a few herbs and makes a potion, pours it into a cup and forces it down my throat.
“Drink up, Cyrene,” she says, pouring a bitter liquid down my throat, but I can’t drink it. I can’t even breathe. I can’t move. My body grows stiff.
“Hold her,” she says to Dell. Then she pinches my nose and pours the contents of the cup in my mouth. “The potion needs to get into her body, bring her in the upright position.”
The potion feels like acid as it trickles down my neck.
“What have you done?” Dell looks at Minerva accusingly.
She shakes her head. “Your blood is too strong, her body is fighting it. The potion should help.”
“What do you mean “should help”?”
“I can’t guarantee it will work. I am trying. Let me focus.”
But I know it is too late for me as my vision begins to blur.
“Save the babies,” I manage to whisper.
The last thing I see is Dell beginning to shift. My eyes widen with horror. This has all gone horribly wrong.
Minerva flicks her wand and creates a protective bubble around herself. Dell pounces at her. She claps her hands over her head, letting a blue spark fly, disabling Dell, making him fall to the floor.
My heartbeat rises and begins to sink. My eyes close themselves as I descend into darkness.
Chapter Fifteen - The Wicked Witch
Dell
I look at Cyrene, her eyes pleading.
“Save the babies,” she says in a barely audible voice. The potion that Minerva has forced down her throat trickles out of her mouth slowly in a black froth. I know Minerva has messed this up, deliberately. I begin to shift and Minerva puts a protective bubble around herself, hitting me with a blue spark. I fall to the floor—Minerva is very strong, but not stronger than me. I see her leaning over Cyrene, her hands on Cyrene’s neck, choking her.
I shift, breaking through the roof of her loft. I cover Cyrene in my wing, take a long breath and exhale black fire. Minerva doesn’t know who she has messed with. There is no escaping the black fire. Her apartment burns, her spell breaks, her bubble pops and she burns to dust. I carry Cyrene back to my kingdom.
I head back home to my kingdom and fly straight to the infirmary. Without shifting, I burst in.
“Help her,” I howl, “help her!”
Tiamat, the healing dragon, flies to my side and shifts to human form. She checks Cyrene’s pulse, puts her head on her heart. “The heartbeat is very weak,” she says to me. “It seems she has been poisoned.”
“Fix her,” I plead, getting on my knees. “Please.”
Tiamat brings her mouth close to Cyrene’s, puts a finger in the black potion smeared around her lips and smells it. “What happened? Tell me quickly, we don’t have much time,” says Tiamat.
“We were turning her into a dragon and her body started rejecting it, I don’t know what happened.”
Tiamat looked at me, then at Cyrene. “Why would you try to turn her when she has been given an antidote to resist your blood?”
“Please,” I beg, “I didn’t know until it was too late. Please help her. She is carrying my babies.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Tiamat loses her composure. I know it is very serious because I have never seen Tiamat swear in the centuries that I have known her. She slashes Cyrene’s wrist in a hurry, then cuts her own and mixes her blood with Cyrene’s.
Then she cleans her up and bandages the wound and moves her to a bedroom.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know, Delindor,” she says. I know she is furious with me, but I don’t care. All I want is for Cyrene to be okay.
“Tiamat, please, do whatever it takes to fix her and I will be in your debt forever.”
“I have done all I can, Delindor. If she makes it, she makes it. If she doesn’t, she dies. You brought her here in a really bad condition. Why would you even try to turn her outside our own kingdom?”
“I know I screwed up bad,” I say. “I didn’t intend it. I was fooled by someone…but it doesn’t matter. If she dies, I die,” I tell her. She shakes her head.
Chapter Sixteen - The Last of It
Cyrene
I open my eyes and find Dell passed out on my bedside. A short, stout, Asian woman smiles at me, putting a finger to her lips. She doesn’t speak but I hear a voice in my head, as clearly as if someone was speaking to me.
“He hasn’t slept in a week,” she says.
I wonder whether the voice is real or whether I am imagining it. The voice answers as if it can hear my thoughts.
“You are not imagining it, Cyrene. Dragons can communicate without using voice—with the power of mind.”
“What happened, how long have I been out?”
“You have been out for a week. You were poisoned and you were in a really bad condition when Delindor brought you here. You really are lucky to be alive.”
“But who poisoned me?” I ask in my own head.
“Your head witch, of course, who else?”
“Minerva?” I wonder aloud. “No way, she couldn’t have. She really liked me.”
“She fooled you,” the woman says. “She gave you an antidote to Delindor’s blood so your body would reject it and then injected his blood into your body.”
“But why would she do that?”
“Because you were a threat to her. A dragon witch is infinitely more powerful than an ordinary witch and the most powerful witch heads the coven. She was jealous—power does that to people.”
“How did she get the antidote…it doesn’t make sense. I don’t…”
“A dragon’s hairs are used in antidotes. Dragon scales are used in normal potions. She probably tried to kill you by sending you on that quest, sensing how gifted and powerful you are. Now, you must rest.”
The woman turns around and leaves.
“What is your name?”
“Tiamat. I am the healer,” she says in my head. “Now I am shutting off the connection. Rest, Cyrene!” Her stern tone puts an end to all my questions. I look up, at the ultra-high ceiling and I know where I am. I am home.
I run my hand through Dell’s hair, running my fingers across his back. I can’t resist it. I know he hasn’t slept in a week, but I need to feel his eyes on me again, feel his touch.
“Dell,” I whisper, poking a finger into his shoulder. “Dell, wake up. Delindor!”
He wakes up, his eyes heavy with sleep.
“You are awake,” he says, a smile spreading on his lips.
“I am,” I reply.
“That was quite a scare you gave me there.”
“Are the babies okay?” I ask.
“They are. Tiamat says we are having three babies.”
“Does she know what sex they are?”
“She probably does, but she hasn’t told me. She won’t tell us, but she knows.” Dell says. “Tiamat means mother. She always knows and never tells.”
“Fine,” I say, “I don’t mind being surprised.”
“The babies are growing so fast,” Dell says, rubbing my belly. He lifts my shirt and kisses me on my pregnant stomach, then starts talking to the babies in a way that only a father-to-be would.
Chapter Seventeen - The Sapphire
Dell
Once Cyrene is well enough, I tell her that it is about time she is introduced to my family. She has returned to her usual self, albeit more motherly now. She has no qualms about meeting my parents. All she has is questions: questions about the kingdom, questions about the lives of dragons, about the treasures, etc.
Before we can move in or get a castle of our own, it is customary to meet the parents. I wait for her
at the table with my parents, as she explores the wardrobes and gets ready. But the moment she walks down the stairs, I know my parents will approve. After their life that spans thousands of years, they are never surprised by anything. “We have seen all there is to see, experienced everything, son, so nothing surprises us anymore.”
Dressed regally, in a gown that once belonged my mother, she steps down the stairs slowly, cradling her very pregnant belly. My mother gets up, surprised and my father drops his fork.
“Delindor,” she squeals, delighted, “She’s pregnant.” She looks at me to confirm, to make sure that they are finally getting an heir or heirs. I nod my head. Her smile reaches her eyes as she almost runs to Cyrene, throwing aside her usual composure. She puts an arm around her and holds her hand in her own as she walks her back to the table.
“Hello, Cyrene. I am Delindor’s mother.”
Cyrene is chewing gum and goes all, “Yeah, I know,” on my mother.
“I heard what Minerva did to you. I am so sorry. If we knew earlier, we would have warned you, but Delindor never tells us anything.”
“It’s cool, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Very naive, that one,” my father whispers to me.
My mother takes off her shawl and places it on Cyrene’s shoulders. “This is for luck,” she tells her. “It is made of threads of pure gold.”
“I didn’t know dragons believed in luck too,” Cyrene says.
“Oh, we do. I do, at least. When are you due?”
The women break into chatter and I know Cyrene has already gained their approval. In the middle of the conversation, Cyrene looks at my dad and asks solemnly, “So, where is your nest?”
My father breaks into fits of laughter. “Nest? We are not birds, we don’t live in nests. We live in castles, dear.”
“I need to borrow Cyrene,” I say to my parents. They nod in unison.
I take Cyrene back to the glade where we had sex for the first time, the glade where my parents first met. It holds a special place for both Cyrene and me, so I know that it is only fitting that we make our next significant memory right here. I hold her hands and kiss her, then I kiss her belly and whisper to my children.
“What are you saying,” Cyrene asks. “Whispering is not allowed, not to the babies. We do this together.”
“We will,” I say.
Then I get on my knees and hold her hand and produce a sapphire ring.
“So, will you?”
“You have to do the whole speech, ask me properly,” she says.
“My dear Cyrene,” I begin. Since I met you—“
“Yes,” she says, cutting me off. “I will marry you.”
Chapter Eighteen - The Epilogue
Cyrene looks at herself in the mirror, no longer used to a flat stomach. She is wearing a plain white dress and her future mother-in-law’s gold shawl on her shoulders. The vanity table in front of her is filled with more jewels than she has ever seen in her entire life: rings, diamond tiaras, crowns, necklaces, bangles, items made of precious stones, gold, silver, etc.
She picks up two simple pearl earrings and a pearl necklace and puts them on. Her dress is strapless, backless, and fits her comfortably. Her hair is down and loose with the curls flowing freely just as Dell likes.
“Go now, Cyrene,” says Tiamat. “You do want to get married, right?”
“Yes, but I do look all right? I need to look perfect. I only get to do this once.”
“You look absolutely beautiful,” Tiamat tells her. “Now go.”
Cyrene pulls the sheer gold shawl over her head, like a veil, but then turns around. “My eggs, Tiamat, my children, I can’t leave them alone.”
“I am looking after them,” Tiamat says, shooing her with both hands. “Now go, the sooner you get married, the sooner you get back to your eggs.”
“If they begin to hatch, you call me back immediately.”
“Okay, now go.”
Dell waits underneath an arch of roses and jasmines, dressed neatly in a suit. The sun is rising somewhere behind the forest, but the foliage behind their wedding arch covers it, only allowing a soft blue light.
Cyrene walks slowly towards her husband-to-be, her mate, her eternal partner. The guests all rise up. Delindor’s mother lets out a cry of joy. Cyrene joins Dell underneath the holy arch of flowers and they exchange vows. Then she looks at him, in those sapphire blue eyes that reflect in the ring on her finger, the eyes that she wants to see herself reflected in forever. And he looks into her green eyes, the eyes he wants to wake up to for the rest of his life.
The elder dragons officiate the wedding, pronouncing them eternal mates. The new mates, Mr. and Mrs. Dell make out as the guests clap with joy, celebrating a dragon witch amongst their midst. Then they run into the forest and shift into dragons, and rise up, flapping their wings, their bodies intertwined, their mouths pressed together. They mate again, for the first time as proper, wedded dragons. Then Tiamat roars from the castle and they both fly back to the castle.
Cyrene and Dell sit side-by-side watching their first egg move from side to side. Cyrene almost cracks the egg to help her baby, but Tiamat stops her. The tip of the egg slides to the side as their first baby pokes his head out…
*****
THE END
The Dragon Shifter's Twins
Description
A curvy witch looking for the perfect love potion PLUS a hot dragon shifter only interested in his motorbike PLUS a headmistress who comes between them!
Jessica Falls is a curvy witch who prefers to stir up love potions or sit by the fire with a steamy romance than to pour over textbooks at her magical university.
Her lack of focus is a cause of great dismay to Pearl Lancelet, the headmistress of the university, who runs the school like a 1950s boarding house, including ridiculous rules like no men allowed in the dorm rooms...
Despite Pearl's insistence that there are more important things to life than romance, at twenty-two and never having been kissed, Jessica doesn't care much what else there is to life. She wants a whirlwind romance full of steamy sex while she lands the perfect man.
And she knows exactly who she wants, too: her brother’s best friend...
Braden Clampett is a dragon shifter who leads the local group of young dragons who ride their motorbikes wearing their leather jackets.
Unfortunately, he has no interest in her whatsoever...
Can she stir up the perfect love potion to attract his attention? And will she be able to distract the headmistress for long enough to have her way?
Chapter One
Jessica Falls stood in front of the mirror, piling her black corkscrew curls on top of her head, imagining that she was wearing a white veil and dressed in a sleek, slimming wedding dress. It would be made of satin, with a dusting of beading on the bodice and the train. Maybe she'd also go with red trimming. She used to dream about having a full-on Cinderella ball gown, but that style just didn't suit her body type–not with her wide hips, ample bosom, and rounded stomach.
Sighing, Jessica let her hair drop and turned back towards the love potion she was brewing. It was a sickly yellow color, and it ought to be honey-gold by this time. Her brow furrowed. Had she forgotten to put in the lizard eyes? She sashayed over to the cupboard, imagining she was dancing with her one true love as she did so. With this love potion, she would soon be in his arms.
Contrary to popular belief, love potions didn't make people fall in love. Rather, they directed the individual who drank them to the person that they would fall in love for life with. Or could, as the spell books liked to emphasize. Jessica didn't care about that small detail. Once she brewed the perfect love potion, she would find her lover and be with him for the rest of her life.
He was going to be tall and tattooed, with rippling muscles that allowed him to pick her up and carry her around as though she was a size zero supermodel. That way they could have sex standing against the wall, which was something Jessica really wanted to try. W
ell, she wanted to have sex in every available position. Her eyes misted over as she imagined a man kissing her breasts while fingering her, making pleasure course through her. Someday soon, she'd have that.
As she retrieved the lizard eyes and turned back to her cauldron, her left foot caught behind her right. She stumbled, lost her balance and went sprawling face-first. Jessica shrieked as her bottle of lizard eyes cracked open on the stone floor, sending the contents rolling every which way.
The twenty-two-year-old witch had once tried to cast a spell to make herself as graceful as a swan. It hadn't helped; she tripped over her own feet or knocked things over by simply walking into a room just as much as she had before the spell, only with the added inelegance of sprouting feathers. It had taken three days for the spell to wear off.
"Stop that!" she shouted at the rolling lizard eyes, scooping up the shriveled, dried balls and depositing them back into the broken jar. She held the glass pieces together, narrowed her eyes, and called on her magic. "Fix up."
The glass repaired itself smoothly, allowed her to gather up the rest of the lizard eyes and put them back where they belonged. Jessica would never be an extraordinary witch, but she excelled at repairing and cleaning spells. It was probably because she found herself using them multiple times a day.
Unfortunately when it came to things like potion ingredients, any magic directly used on them negated their magical qualities, and so whenever she had a mishap they had to be gathered by hand.
Just as Jessica made to stand up, cracking her head on a table in the process, the door opened. The headmistress of the coven's magical university, Pearl Lancelet, stepped in. Her alabaster features twisted and a delicate hand flew to cover her nose.