Dragon’s Stone

by Lena Austin

  Dragon’s Stone

  Lena Austin

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Lena Austin

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

  WARNING: Illegal files may contain viruses.

  ISBN (10) 1-59596-462-2

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-462-5

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  It was a dark and stormy night…

  Jack turned away from the window in disgust. Now he was thinking in clichés. Wasn’t his life crazier than any novelist could dream up? Okay, so the thunderstorms had lasted four days already, cooping him in the apartment with his lover, Aneurin. Normally, this would not be a bad prospect. Normally being the operative word. Nothing in his life would ever be normal again. Not when his lover was a dragon and he was a wizard in the modern day Washington, DC area.

  Aneurin’s sleeping dragon form took up a large portion of Jack’s generous penthouse living room. The large napping sofa Jack had previously owned hadn’t lasted past the first time Aneurin took his pain pills. After the eye surgery to correct his cataracts two days ago, he’d needed them. Where one pain-wracked man had sat, a dragon lounged in rubble.

  Jack shrugged, and a grin crept over his face. His heart lightened. Oh, well. What was the value of mere stuff when you had love? He crept over to lovingly rub his dragon’s scaly muzzle.

  Aneurin’s contented sigh ruffled Jack’s hair, and the gold-tipped tail ceased its restless movement.

  Jack reached up and adjusted the blue silk bed sheet now serving as a draconic blindfold. They’d given up trying to keep Aneurin in human form when the pain pills made him so stoned he’d revert to his reptilian form as soon as he fell asleep.

  Aneurin’s voice crept softly into his head, still slurred with sleep and narcotic. “J-Jack? Is it Wednesday yet?”

  His heart wrenching a little, Jack kissed the purple muzzle. “No, not quite. It’s Tuesday evening. Tomorrow we take your bandages off, lover dragon. We’ll have a lovely time in the shower, washing away all that goo the doctor put on your eyes, and then you’ll be able to see again. Tonight, you’ll probably need just a mild analgesic instead of those little pills that make you sleep.”

  A draconic purr rumbled. “Good. I’m tired of sleeping all the time. I smell rain, though.” The gigantic head sank slowly down to rest on his forepaws. “Guess we’ll have to wait on your flying lessons again. Can’t wait to go home and get a proper riding saddle for my aching back, anyway. You’ve got a bony ass.”

  Jack chuckled and hid his lurch of fear. He patted Aneurin’s soft nose comfortingly. He didn’t want to go to Honalee. Not yet. Ironically, all those years he’d thought himself an orphan, he’d dreamt of his parents. Now he practically quaked in terror at the thought of making the dimensional leap and meeting his mother at last. “Liar. My weight is insignificant, and my bony ass sits between two of your ridge scales. I’m the one with his balls divided by a hard plate of dragon hide, and I’m the one who about froze to death in that cold mountain air.”

  The trip to the Rockies and a secluded mountain cabin while they waited for Aneurin’s turn on the operating table had not gone well. Without anything to protect his privates from hard dragon spinal ridges, the first leap in the air had been painful and the situation hadn’t improved. He also hadn’t been able to change form. His magic was still very shaky and weak. The results had been messy. He’d managed to get as far as a very misshapen semi-humanoid form with scales and wings, and it had taken them hours to get the wings off his back and make him appear human again.

  Snuggling again into his pillows, Aneurin mumbled something about “low ambient magic levels” and began to snore.

  Jack stepped gingerly over the pile of blankets that made up Aneurin’s improvised bed and went back to his dining room table where his laptop hummed patiently. The spreadsheet detailing the sales of all his investment properties seemed like his execution orders. All his wealth now resided in safe bonds, T-notes, and CDs, locked in several banks under the watchful supervision of lawyers and accountants who eyed each other with suspicion. The sales were complete. Only this penthouse remained as his one property. Everything was in order for him to leave for Honalee.

  He slugged down the cold remains of his coffee and strode toward the kitchen to brew a fresh pot. He was going to miss coffee in Honalee, but without one bit of electricity, there would be no way he could take his beloved professional coffeemaker with all the gadgets a coffee snob could want.

  Lucynda’s latest letter, written in her perfect calligraphy, lay like a recrimination beside the stove. He’d memorized the words her dragon, Draig, had read to him. He estimated the note was written at about the level of third grade in the language of Honalee, but his mother’s dragon had been very pleased. He’d almost forgiven Draig for her deception at pretending to be his therapist.

  Guilt twisted knife-sharp in his guts at the memory of her loving attempt to understand why he hadn’t just hopped on Aneurin’s back and come to her immediately once he’d known of her existence. “I don’t understand half of what Draig tells me, son, but if you need to do these things before you can come for a visit, I must agree. What are a few more months after nearly thirty years? I will wait. With much love, Lucynda.”

  Jack rubbed his aching forehead and put the letter back down. How could this woman he didn’t remember love him so? After being an orphan all his life, having a mother seemed impossible. He wanted to know her. He did. Yet he was so terrified of the prospect.

  A warm hand covered his.

  He gasped and snatched his hand back. His body straightened.

  Draig’s sympathetic blue eyes gazed back at him. His mother’s dragon stood in her human form, in her guise of the therapist Dr. Lledrith. “I teleported in to check on Aneurin. Still zoned on codeine, isn’t he?”

  Jack jerked his chin in what might be interpreted as a nod. Embarrassment at being caught in an emotional state by his former therapist and also Aneurin’s mother made him blush. If he didn’t look at her, maybe her sharp eyes wouldn’t catch on to his torn emotions. He turned to get Draig her coffee. He put the largest bottle of honey he could buy beside the mug and rummaged for a spoon. “Yeah, he’s going to still be a bit stoned for the next couple of hours. He’ll be on Tylenol tonight, though.”

  She poured an obscene amount of honey into a large mug and then added coffee and cream. “Good. We can talk about you in relative peace then. Come on, Jack. You need a sympathetic ear right now.” Her heels clicked on his dining room floor before she planted herself in a chair at the table and shoved aside his laptop.

  Damn. He knew he was in for a lecture now. Draig would show him no mercy, pitilessly analyzing his psyche and laying his neuroses all out like bones to dry in the sun. “Draig, I…”

  She
snorted, but her eyes twinkled warmly. “You need a friend, not your therapist. Since my son is presently unfit to provide a shoulder --” Her gaze flicked for a moment to Aneurin when he snored hard enough to blow over a potted palm. “-- I’ll just have to do. Besides, I have a message for you.”

  Jack’s hands shook slightly while he poured a fresh mug of aromatic brew. He breathed in the scent to lock it in his memory, knowing he deliberately delayed hearing another plea from Lucynda. Maybe if he called her that, if they didn’t like each other, the disappointment wouldn’t hurt so much. Coward. Jack tried for cocky and nonchalant. “Yeah? How’s Mother doing?”

  His mother’s lover and dragon wrapped her hands around her honey laced with a little coffee. Dragons had such a sweet tooth for the sticky stuff. “Lucynda is fine. This message doesn’t come from her. I’m sorry to say this comes from the royal council. You’ve been discovered, Jack. Somehow.”

  He cocked his head to one side and sat down on the opposite side of the table. Her words were ominous, but he didn’t get the problem. “Hey, don’t make it sound like I’ve committed a crime or something. So the royal council knows Lucynda the Red Sorceress has a son. Big deal.”

  “Actually, this is a big deal.” She sipped her coffee. “Honalee doesn’t have many male wizards.” She drew a parchment scroll out of her purse. “Jack, son of the Red Sorceress, you have been invited to be tested and trained at the Royal Academy for Wizards.” She tossed the scroll across the table with an air of contempt.

  Jack’s brows drew together into a puzzled frown. The fancy red seal, laced with little gold flecks, sparkled even in the light of the chandelier. The ink smelled funny now that he’d quit smoking and had a nose again. Something about that parchment made him nervous enough to want a cigarette. On the other hand, perhaps it was the way Draig seemed to treat this like a punishment. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t approve of this?”

  “I don’t.” She bit the words off like they were a bit of meat she chomped. “I’d rather Lucynda trained you, since you’re too old to foster to another wizard. Your bond with Aneurin is strong enough to not need further improvement. You proved that by communicating with each other over a vast ocean, even if you did it in dreams. Flying is nothing, once you have the proper equipment. The rest can be taught by any competent mage, male or female. Special academy for males. Pah!” A tiny puff of flame spit briefly out of her mouth, emphasizing her contempt.

  Jack jerked back from the sulfurous stench of dragon breath, not out of any real fear. He’d never seen fire appear out of a dragon’s human form before, and his internal cryptozoologist made a note of the phenomenon. He’d have burned his lips.

  Jack was of two minds on this academy thing. First, at thirty-two, he felt a little old to go to school. He had visions of sitting in some sort of dungeon classroom surrounded by teenagers, waving a wand and learning to levitate feathers in pidgin Latin. Not his idea of a good time. Then again, he’d really enjoyed college and did well in a structured learning environment. “Aren’t I a little old to be going to school?”

  She snorted. “In my opinion, yes. Nevertheless, there it is. Consider the invitation a royal command.” She drank the rest of her coffee in one gulp and stood. “Your mentor might show up to give you the details. Be nice to her. She comes from the king of humans. I suggest you stop procrastinating and get to Honalee. You’ll want a few days to acclimate and shop for your supplies. You certainly can’t do without a wand, and a dragon saddle would be wise before you unman yourself.” She grinned. “Lucynda is looking forward to shopping in the village. She’s already ordered a seamstress to make robes for you.”

  Stunned, Jack blurted the first thing that popped into his head. “Robes? I am not wearing a fucking dress!”

  Draig stared, then laughed. “It’s not a dress. Oh, this is going to be so amusing. I can’t wait to see what Honalee makes of you!” She popped out of sight.

  Rubbing his aching head, Jack stomped back into the kitchen for more brew. “Oh, that makes me want to go, definitely. I don’t care what you say. It’s a dress. Bad enough I have to do without coffee, electricity, email, and money.”

  “So take instant coffee, twit, and wear jeans underneath your robes.”

  Aneurin’s voice in his head startled Jack enough to make him miss the cup as he poured. He grabbed a handful of paper towels to mop up the mess. Blech. Instant? Well, the fake coffee would be better than doing without. “Good points, carrion breath. How are you feeling?”

  Aneurin raised his purple head from his forelegs. “Better. My eyes feel glued shut, but they don’t hurt much now. Sorry I didn’t defend you a little while my mother was here. I didn’t feel like being cooed over like a hatchling.”

  Jack had to tease his friend. He pranced over and purred in the most syrupy voice he could manage. “How’s my darling Aneurin? Feeling better? Let me adjust your bandages. Want me to spoon feed you some honey, my sweet love?”

  Aneurin’s tail whipped out and knocked Jack on his ass into the blankets. “Don’t make me ill.”

  Jack laughed so hard he couldn’t have dodged anyway. “Aww, no honey?”

  One claw raked his clothes, shredding them to rags. Third set that month, gone. The open jar of honey floated from the kitchen and tipped over on him, covering Jack from neck to knees in a thin stream. Aneurin’s forked tongue followed the stream, rasping like a cat’s. “Don’t mind if I do. The smell of the open jar was driving me to distraction.”

  Jack gasped. Dragon tongue on his body turned him on, and Aneurin knew this. Jack’s cock twitched to life. It had been days since they’d made love, and he was hornier than a three-peckered billy goat. “How’d you know where to pour?”

  Aneurin snickered and changed to naked human, falling on Jack to lick with a more human tongue, even if it was still slightly forked. The blanket that had been his mask changed into a neat blue bandage around his eyes only. “I’m still reptilian. My tongue tastes the air, my nose smells the scents, and I get a picture of sorts. Not as good as my eyes, but these other senses do the job. Now shut up. I want a snack of honey and my human’s flesh.” He attacked Jack’s cock like a hungry dog went after a tasty bone.

  His human shut up. Aneurin’s teeth were sharp enough to enforce the command. Not that Jack minded. If his lover felt up to a little horizontal tango, then he was willing to go along. Short of a shower, a dragon tongue bath sounded like an excellent notion. “I’m not going to complain. You suck cock like a pro.”

  The dragon didn’t bother to lift his head from swallowing all Jack’s meat, just asked telepathically, “A pro what?”

  Momentarily distracted by Aneurin’s finger sliding toward his anus, Jack moaned. He should have known he’d have to explain. “A person who sells sexual favors for money.”

  Aneurin stopped to consider this. “Oh. Well, I suppose one who does this for a career would be very good. I’m complimented.” His finger tickled, then slid in gently.

  Jack gritted his teeth against the heat flooding his groin. His head whirled, probably from the lack of blood to his brain. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to last long.”

  Aneurin paused, and lifted his head. “Well, that might be a problem. Tell me what you see in this room. I heard clinking and splashing.”

  Jack turned his head and gasped. Every loose object in the room that weighed less than five pounds floated in some weird waltz above their heads. His favorite coffee cup was doing a dance with a vase of silk flowers. Jack’s prized laptop bobbed along near the ceiling next to some books. Then everything all came crashing down on their heads.

  Chapter Two

  Aneurin instinctively covered Jack’s body with his own as soon as he heard the first impact of smashing glass and the low grunt from Jack. Crashes of metal and shattering dishes made it seem like the whole apartment tumbled from the sky. He shifted to dragon form, resolved to rip off the bandages and carry Jack away despite the consequences if he felt one shake of the floor b
eneath him.

  Protected by Aneurin’s head, Jack ceased movement and waited for the rain of destruction to stop. He muttered under his breath, but Aneurin heard his mind easily. After a stream of inventive word combinations Aneurin had learned were curses, Jack settled into orderly thoughts. “I thought you said there was low ambient magic here. Shit, Aneurin, you should see this mess.” One last impact and tinkle emphasized his words.

  Aneurin kept to dragon form, where he felt strongest. Despite the anxiety in Jack’s voice, Aneurin detected no real fear or pain. Jack was all right, so he could relax somewhat. “What happened?”

  A high-pitched female voice answered in the tongue of Honalee. “It appears Jack can levitate objects without the assist of a wand.”

  Jack scrambled to cover his body with a blanket and rested against Aneurin’s scaly chest. Points for Jack -- he managed relative calm. “No shit, Sherlock. Who are you? And doesn’t anyone from Honalee know the meaning of knocking?”

  Aneurin’s other senses showed him a human female shape standing near the doorway. She did not move, or seem threatening in any way, but he snarled just in case. Jack was nearly naked and between his foreclaws. A dragon would be his defense. If she made one move to harm him, Aneurin would dine on human for lunch and worry about getting the taste out of his mouth later.

  The sorceress, for she could be nothing less to have arrived here without a dragon, sniffed contemptuously in the snarling dragon’s direction. “Oh, do stop that, dragon. I do not intend to harm your bonded.” She glided forward, clearly a lady of the human court, for they insisted ladies took only tiny steps instead of striding forth confidently. He remembered his mother telling him stories of Lucynda’s deportment lessons when they were young.

  Aneurin took an instant dislike to her -- to be called “Dragon” as if he were unintelligent was highly insulting -- and couldn’t stop the hiss in his throat. He was surprised to smell a hint of blood on her. How odd. The hiss died unuttered. Blood? Fresh blood? On a lady who probably entered the kitchens of her castle but three times a year?