Dragon Bewitched

by Isadora Montrose

  She examined her fingertips. Wrinkled. They were always wrinkled. And her toes as well. Unless she took the form of a fish. And she did not enjoy being a fish. It was not noble like being a dragon. Or powerful like being a lynx. It was tedious and hazardous without being in the least exciting.

  But nixies were restricted to taking the form of animals who could swim. It was true that sometimes she turned herself into an otter. Otters were lithe and furry. Beautiful. Hot blooded. Curious and playful. But otters had to hunt other animals for their food. And she did not relish killing.

  She should have been living with Lexi in her beautiful warm house. But the moment Iliana had made herself comfortable and become used to the lovely glow having a home gave her, Princess Lexi had grown fierce and protective of her new family.

  And all because Iliana had cast a single yearning glance on Theo’s brother, the tall, slender, comely Gunner. The unmarried and unmated Gunner. Iliana was sworn to obey the Princess Alexandra, as she had obeyed the goddess Rán. And now that Lexi was a dragoness, it behooved Iliana to be particularly careful around her.

  Crossing Lexi was how she found herself once again living in this half-frozen stream, in these frigid woods that still harbored patches of snow although the spring equinox had passed. Sleeping with the fishes and water weeds. Eating leaves and drinking ice water.

  But Lexi had said nothing whatsoever about this charming youth. Nothing at all. He was whistling merrily as he wandered beside the stream. Red lips pursed as if he wanted to be kissed. Hands in pockets, golden head in the clouds. He did not know it yet, but he was about to be claimed by a water sprite.

  And then she remembered the one characteristic above all others that despite his shagginess and bulk, made Lexi’s mate the perfect husband. Something that far outshone his vast wealth and fine house. Something better than his handsome face and magnificent body. Theodor Lindorm was kind. And gentle. To see him rock his infant daughter in his brawny arms was to understand love. Iliana wanted a husband like that. She wouldn’t settle for less.

  This dragon lord she was setting a snare for was as beautiful and flaxen-haired as any elf warrior, but she knew nothing of his character. Any evil might lurk beneath that outward beauty. She must test him before she bound herself to him. Forever was a long time to live with a mistake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jareth~

  He was at a crossroads. He knew it. This was the year he was to declare his mate hunt and seek a bride. Establish a family. Create a home for himself and his family. It was his dearest wish. And yet he also feared it. Feared passing his genes onto his children. And damned if Uncle Thorvald hadn’t guessed his darkest secret.

  Not that his cowardice could be any great secret within his family. He had failed as no Lindorm was supposed to. After that last trial, the Swedish Royal Navy had struck him from their list of candidates for Special Ops. Unceremoniously returned him to regular service.

  Uncle Thorvald wasn’t cruel. When the Eldest had decreed that Jareth join the Swedish Royal Navy, he had merely been trying to mold Jareth into a proper dragon. Lord Lindorm had said nothing when his nephew and sword bearer had utterly failed to distinguish himself. He had said nothing when Jareth failed to earn a position in Special Ops. And this year he had granted permission for Jareth to seek a wife, as was customary for Lindorms when they turned twenty-five.

  To know true happiness, it was essential for dragon shifters to find their fated mates. There was extra urgency to do it young, because for hundreds of years female children had not been born to dragons. Moreover only dragonesses were fertile. If he wanted children, and he certainly did, Jareth had to find himself a virgin to transform into a dragoness.

  Even though the curse had been lifted* and female children were being born throughout all Dragonry, that did not help Jareth or other dragon bachelors. They would have decades to wait before those baby girls were old enough to marry. And even then they would not choose some old fart over a young dragon. He hoped to marry long before he turned into one.

  Jareth had grown up in Uncle Thor’s castle. Almost, but not quite, a son. The orphaned child of the Eldest’s first cousin. Like all Lord Lindorm’s vast extended family, Jareth hero-worshiped the Eldest. He desperately wanted to make him proud. To have Lord Lindorm’s voice ring with pride when he spoke of ‘my cousin Johann’s boy’. As it always rang with pride when he mentioned Jareth’s cousin Theo.

  Of course Cousin Theo was a special case. A heroic role model in a family of heroes. Every Lindorm looked up to him. When Theo had been Jareth’s age, he had already been the most decorated Lindorm in an illustrious lineage of naval officers. Among his honors was a medal usually reserved for Swedish royalty. Despite their being official secrets, his exploits were whispered about whenever Lindorms gathered.

  Jareth knew the Eldest had dispatched him to Severn Island in the hope that some of Theo’s valor would rub off on him. The Thane of Lindorm was too kind to say so directly, but his intention was plain to the least of his sword bearers. He wanted Jareth to shake off his fearfulness.

  Like Lord Lindorm’s island home, Severn Island was another rough stretch of rock in the Gulf of Bothnia. Theo had built a house here, near to his father and mother’s home. Severn Island was remote. Far from prying human eyes. A suitable place to try to train a laggard dragon and instill some pluck in his gutless heart.

  Theo had taken him skin diving, hang gliding, and flown with him in the dead of night. Jareth had enjoyed those activities in his burly cousin’s company. No one could be afraid when intrepid Theo was nearby. And Theo was as large-minded as he was large. Likable. Encouraging. Inspiring. Being around him was a great way to spend his leave.

  But flying hour after hour beside his magnificent cousin only emphasized that Jareth was neither large nor intrepid. He was still the same size he had been at fourteen. A dragonling when measured against Theo’s long and muscular dragon. Jareth was simply not hero material. Not much of a Lindorm at all. A failure as a dragon and an officer.

  He was certain that when Theo had been doing his night swim in the North Atlantic, he had not panicked just because tiger sharks were circling. He had probably smacked them in the snout and driven them off to seek easier prey. Unlike Jareth. Of course, if Jareth had been in dragon, the sharks would have bothered him less. As in not at all. But the object of the exercise was to test your mettle. Apparently Löjtnant Jareth Lindorm lacked any.

  As long as he could remember he had feared the sea. Feared drowning. An inappropriate fear for any Swede. A source of shame to a dragon. And one that made sailing or swimming an exercise in courage. It never got any easier. He had of course learned to swim and sail. How not in a family where athleticism and the ocean were everyday matters?

  When you grew up in a castle where every window faced the sea, when you learned to sail when you learned to walk, you were supposed to regard both as familiar comforts. Yet every storm made something inside Jareth quail. When the seas grew rough and waves mounted higher than houses, that was when the voices spoke loudest to him.

  Having visions wasn’t completely unknown among dragons. All his cousins firmly believed that the head of the family could see into their hearts because Thorvald Lindorm was clairvoyant. But when Jareth heard voices and saw visions, dread filled his soul. If they had advice to give he could not hear it over his fear. In a family of heroes, he was the sole coward.

  He had never told anyone about the apparitions that tormented his days and made his bed an instrument of torture. What was the use of visions that foretold nothing? They were just hallucinations that bathed him in sweat and oppressed his mind. Proof positive, if he had needed any, that he was a lily-livered disgrace to a noble name, if not actually insane.

  All that staying with Theo had accomplished was to add covetousness to his sins. Jareth envied his more accomplished cousin, not just his battle honors, but his wife. Not that he wanted to sleep with Lexi. She was lovely, and he liked her. She was just the sort
of plump and cheerful woman dragons were primed to adore. What he craved was a wife and baby like Theo’s.

  He kicked savagely at the stones lying on the trail. One shot into the trunk of a tree and caromed off to splash into the burbling forest stream. Even that gentle gurgling made him cringe. He forced himself to walk over to the bank and confront his anxiety. The spring runoff had made the forest stream swift and cloudy.

  Without warning, a vision struck. The damned or the dead howled. Shift. He swayed on his feet, balance gone, heart shuddering. Enthralled and helpless, fear pounding in his veins, the vision seized his eyes and ears. From the depths of the stream, a maiden with a face as pale as death raised pleading arms like long strands of twining seaweed.

  Her coppery hair floated about a stark white face. Her black eyes opened and closed like a doll’s. He lurched as that soulless gaze captured his. She was naked from the waist up. Her breasts bobbed in the water. Sweetly rounded and tipped with crimson. Her skirts were foamy rags that moved languidly around her long white legs.

  His heart seemed too large for his chest. Or too small. He could scarcely draw a breath. He knew from experience that there was no way to turn either sound or sight off. He had to endure. Gradually the unearthly wailing that accompanied this vision became a woman’s beguiling voice.

  “Save me,” she begged. “Son of Lind, you are my only hope. Rescue me.” It seemed as if her long white arms would drag him beneath the water.

  And then as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished. The wailing wind became a whispering spring breeze. Jareth was alone on the rocky bank of the stream, standing in a bright ray of sunshine. It was a clear spring morning. The stream was just a stream. Swollen with snow melt. Rippling over mossy rocks. The haunt of kingfishers and herons. Nothing for a dragon to fear.

  To prove he was not truly a coward, Jareth bent over the water, dabbling his fingers in the icy current. There was of course no sign of the woman. Tiny fish swam in a calm pool formed by a fallen branch that blocked the racing current. They nibbled at green weeds. And there on a flat, bare stone, gleaming as if it had fallen from someone’s finger only yesterday, was a ring.

  It was bright gold, set with rounded green stones. Without thinking, Jareth plucked it out of the water. It was heavy in his hand. Holding it settled his blood. Like all dragons, he had the gift of recognizing the age and value of objects by touch. This ring was ancient. The gold and stones genuine.

  He could feel the excitement of the goldsmith who had created it. Sense the weariness of the slave who had dug the emeralds from the earth with a pick. The dedication of the gem polisher who had made them glow. The valor of the warrior who had worn it into battle. He turned it over and over, wondering at the crispness of the engraving on the gold band.

  It was incomparably old, yet every line was as sharp as if it had just left the polishing bench. It warmed on his palm as he admired it. Still it did not belong to him. This island was the property of Theo’s father lord Severn. An object this old was destined for some museum. Or the Lindorm vault. Or his aunt’s hand.

  He slipped the ring into his jacket pocket and turned back to the house. What connection, if any, the ring had with the woman in his hallucination, he could not guess. Probably none. His visions never meant anything. But he had no intention of letting either Lexi or Theo guess that he was going crazy.

  * Dragon’s Christmas Captive

  CHAPTER THREE

  Iliana~

  It was warm here inside the dragon’s clothing. Stuffy, but warm. Mind, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to keep this fellow after all. Despite his cheerful whistling, on closer inspection, he seemed moody and dour. A brooder, not a doer. He had looked appalled rather than enthralled as she floated in the water displaying her charms for him.

  She was beautiful. She knew she was. All nixies were beautiful. Besides, through all the long years since Rán had created her, she had had endless opportunities to gaze at her face and form. Every calm stretch of water told her that her hair was a mass of rich and coppery red curls. Her lustrous black eyes fringed with long lashes. Her rosy lips plump, and her breasts abundant.

  But this dragon had looked at her as if she were the newly risen dead. He had not plunged into the water to rescue her. It had taken the lure of gold to rouse him to action. Just her luck. Instead of a decisive, warm-hearted fellow like Theo, she had netted a lily-livered shirker. Curses. At least he had not put her ring on. She could still change her mind.

  Iliana curled up in the dragon’s warm pocket next to her ring and drifted into a pleasant daydream of holding her own curly top to her breasts. The smooth rhythm of the dragon’s stride lulled her to sleep. She roused when a hand rummaged around in the pocket.

  Fingers ignored the jumble of keys and brushed against Iliana. Lightning struck. The touch of this dragon’s flesh was wonderful and terrifying. Iliana made herself as small as possible. Long fingers pinched the ring and pulled it out. She came with it. Jareth was inside Lexi’s warm house in front of the coat closet.

  His hand went into another pocket, tighter than the first. His breeches’ pocket. Iliana landed on a scattering of coins. She made herself as comfortable as she could on that inhospitable surface and waited. Her dragon hung up his coat and walked away. Would he take her to his room? It would be easiest to seduce him there.

  He closed a door behind him and spoke. His voice was pleasant and vibrated through her entire body. Was that good or bad? She was the one supposed to be luring him. Not the other way around. She had best be careful.

  “I found a ring in your stream,” her dragon said.

  “Did you?” murmured an even deeper voice. Theodor Lindorm.

  Her dragon rummaged around in his breeches’ pocket. He knocked Iliana into the coins. She struggled upright and rubbed her bruises. And let him take the ring without her. “Yes. I thought you and your father would want a look at it.”

  “Thank you, Jareth.” There was momentary silence. “You found this in the forest stream? In this condition?”

  So her dragon was named Jareth. Jareth Lindorm. A fine, high-sounding name.

  “Yes, Theo. Just as you see it. Shining. Almost new-minted. It has astounding preservation. Or it was just recently lost.”

  “Why bring it to me?” Theo asked.

  “It’s your property. At least, I found it on Severn island. Is it perhaps your mother’s?”

  “If it is Mamma’s, I’ve never seen her wear it. It might be Lexi’s,” Theo said doubtfully. “We’ll show it to her in a minute.”

  “It ought to be in a museum,” Jareth said earnestly.

  “Papa and I won’t have a bunch of archaeologists messing around on Severn Island, Jareth. We prefer to keep our secrets. Mind, this ring is undoubtedly ancient. Forged by some medieval goldsmith, using stones that were older still. Unless Lexi has misplaced an heirloom, I would say that it is not chance that brought it to your hand.”

  “No?” Jareth said doubtfully.

  Something buffeted her dragon for he moved violently. Again Iliana bounced hard onto the coins at the bottom of Jareth’s pocket. At this rate she would be black and blue. Not a good look for a seductress. She hoped these dragons were not fighting. Because Jareth would be on the losing end of any battle with the taller and broader Theo.

  But Theodor Lindorm’s booming voice was jovial. “You’re on the brink of declaring your mate hunt, Jareth. I’d say this ring is intended for your beloved’s hand.”

  “Oh.”

  “You show it to Lexi, and if she denies it, as I suspect she will, you keep it safe for your bride. Sealing your betrothal with a magic ring will bring you luck.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Of course I’m sure. Aren’t you excited at the prospect of your declaration?”

  “I am.” Jareth didn’t sound excited. He sounded terrified. She felt and heard him gulp. “Thank you for agreeing to help me dress for the ceremony.”

  “It will be a pleasure. I�
��m looking forward to it. I assisted my brother, you know, so I’ve already done it once. I’ve figured out how all the bits of the costume go together.” Theo chuckled. “Wait until you see all those robes and chains. Victor did nothing but moan.” Victor was Theo’s married brother*. Iliana had known him from the cradle.

  “I know we have to wear medieval dress,” Jareth said. “The guys say we will look more than a little gaudy and overdressed.”

  “Yup. It’s traditional. And no House has gaudier robes or more baubles than the House of Lindorm. Come, Jareth, we must drink to your bride. Declaring your Mate Hunt is a great event in a dragon’s life.”

  Jareth sat down. His pocket rattled around as he adjusted his breeches. Since she was now in danger of being squashed flat, Iliana crept out and found herself a perch on the back of Jareth’s chair. She gazed around her in wonder.

  She was in a huge room she had not seen before. A fire blazed on a hearth even larger than the one in Lexi’s boudoir. Long windows looked out over the rolling sea and kept the wind and weather out. The wind whipped the sea into whitecaps, but inside it was warm and dry and safe. Well, except for the presence of these dragons.

  As usual, Theo Lindorm was disheveled. His long yellow hair was caught up in a ragged bun anchored by a sharp dirk. His beard curled like a living thing. He was as broad shouldered and blue-eyed as the wild Norsemen who had sailed longboats on her seas. A berserker come to life.

  Lexi’s mate was a tall, formidable dragon. Beside him, Jareth looked like a pale, inferior copy of this powerhouse. His shining beauty somehow tame. Just her usual bad luck. Theo poured clear liquid from a glass flask into a tiny transparent vessel. A sharp and delicious smell perfumed the room.

  “Thank you.” Jareth waited while Theo filled his own little goblet.

  “To your fated mate, whoever and wherever she may be. May she bring you great happiness.” Theo emptied his goblet.