Deep River Shifters 4 Book Box Set

by Lisa Daniels

  “I have wings,” Gerran said. “I could just fly over right now and you wouldn't be able to stop me.”

  The troll guarding the bridge, with his huge head of hair and glowing orange eyes, brandished his club menacingly. “If you don't fight me, you'll be cursed forever!”

  “Okay, then,” Gerran said, promptly eating the troll in one bite. He let out a burp. “I like to give them a chance. Don't worry, there'll be another troll guardian here before long... they breed like crazy.” He licked his scaly lips, before ambling over the bridge, and Esmer shrugged, following after him.

  “You're so, well, casual about this. Why aren't you alarmed?”

  “It's a normal part of living in the Wilderness, princess. Be careful, there's goblins to your left in the bushes. If you make eye contact with them, they'll be on you in moments. So just focus on the road.”

  Esmer kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground, beats of nervous sweat forming on her head, watching as her skirts and boots accumulated dirt. She wore casual fur robes today, and sometimes her breath unfurled in the cold air, adding to the mystery of the place.

  “Why can't we just fly to the witch?”

  “She has disorientation enchantments from the air. We have to reach her by foot. Don't worry. We'll be there soon. And oh, be careful, that may look like a harmless furball, but it has huge teeth.”

  He indicated a small, fuzzy yellow creature. Esmer stared at it for a moment, before a mouse skittered in front of it. The furball split open to reveal a serrated mouth of teeth, and clamped down on the mouse.

  “Wow,” Esmer said. “I'm starting to see why humans prefer living in the kingdoms.”

  Gerran chuckled, his tail swishing. A few moments later, and several more perils averted, they finally arrived at a small hut in the middle of a boggy, putrid smelling swamp, and Gerran shifted into his human form at last. Straightening his collar, he then stepped gracefully to the decrepit thatch door and knocked.

  They waited for one long, nerve-wracking moment, before the door swung open, and a bug-eyed witch in a pointy purple hat stood at the entrance, broomstick in hand.

  “Oh. It's you,” she said. Her voice came out strangely pleasant and mellow, where Esmer expected a screechy, old woman noise. “Come on in, then.” The witch then peered at Esmer, pursing her lips. “Don't see princesses here often. If at all. One of yours, Gerran, or a Quester?”

  “One of mine. A volunteer.”

  The witch grinned. “I like you already. Come in, princess.”

  Nervous, because Esmer had heard a lot of things about witches in the kingdoms, and none of them nice, she went into the home, and found that on the inside, it looked orderly and clean, compared to the shack on the outside. Several cats were sprawled around the furniture as well, one of them licking its paw.

  “I take it you're not here for a cup of tea,” the witch said.

  “No, sorry,” Gerran answered. “Esmer, this is Hattie. Hattie, this is Esmer. Hattie, my princess here wants to learn magic. Would you be willing to help her out?”

  “Hmm,” Hattie said, adjusting her broomstick. Esmer's heart gave a peculiar lurch when Gerran announced her as my princess. That sort of thing could go to a woman's head. “I suppose I can teach. It does mean you'll be learning witch enchantments, though. Your kingdoms don't like witches. You prefer mages.”

  Esmer shrugged, trying to hide her glee. “I don't mind. Any magic at this point would be a blessing.”

  Hattie gave a gap-toothed smile. Frizzy blonde hair tufted out from her hat, loosened by her bobbing motion. “It will be nice to have a new apprentice. You seem like you have a good head on those shoulders. I'm not catching that typical empty brain manner.”

  “Thanks,” Esmer said. “Though honestly, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now.”

  “That'll change.” Hattie turned to Gerran, who sat with a fond expression. One of the cats sauntered over to him and puddled into his lap, purring. He stroked the ginger fur. “Gerran. State your purpose.”

  The prince licked his lips. “I'm looking around for a better weapon to fight with. I heard that recently you ensnared Gold Goblins, and they're notorious for having ancient and powerful artefacts.”

  “Hmm.” Hattie grinned coldly. “I might have a few trinkets. They don't come cheap, mind.”

  “I'm willing to trade.”

  “Hmm.” Hattie folded her robed arms, regarding the prince for a moment. Then she got up, headed to another room in the surprisingly spacious house (Esmer suspected it was actually bigger on the inside) and returned with a bulging sack. She took out objects from the sack, and Esmer held her breath as she saw the artefacts. A glittering silver skull, three types of swords, a shield, several pendants, a fur helmet and a small bull statue. Again, the sack she tugged them out of appeared to accommodate a lot more than the size it resembled on the outside.

  Gerran rubbed his hands in glee, and Esmer liked the look on his face – pure, boyish excitement. Hattie began explaining to Gerran what each object did, her face animated, clearly proud of her collection.

  The skull killed anyone who touched it with their bare hands, unless you were a witch. The helmet enhanced your intelligence, the bull summoned a guardian spirit to protect you in battle, and the shield could withstand any kind of attack, magic or physical.

  “Questers would love to get their hands on some of these things,” Hattie said, whilst Gerran nodded, now eyeing the swords. One sword severed the soul upon contact but left no wound upon the skin. The other spat out rock projectiles, and the last gave the bearer a partial dragon form – wings and hard scales upon contact.

  “Wait,” Esmer said, holding up a finger. “This sword spits out rocks?”

  “Yes,” Hattie said, before examining Esmer in interest. Esmer's attention was fixated upon the tiny etched symbol on the sheath. The symbol of her kingdom, Naterus.

  “By the Gods,” Esmer breathed. “This is the Sword of the Mountain. That was stolen from our kingdom years ago!” Her fingers twitched towards it, before she stopped herself. “Would you trade for this? I... wish to have it.”

  Gerran scowled slightly. “I can, though it will limit the total amount of objects I do want to obtain. May I ask why you need it?”

  “Something to do with my fairy Godmother's prophecy,” Esmer replied. Hattie clicked her tongue.

  “Prophecies, eh? Godmothers are so vague, most of the time. Alright, so you want this one.” She nudged the sword towards them. “Anything else?”

  It took a good, hard hour of haggling from Gerran, who needed to abandon two of the objects he'd been interested in with a rather mournful sigh, to get Esmer's weapon. He selected in the end the Shadow Sword, Esmer's legacy weapon, and the bull statue. “I really wanted the dragon sword,” he sighed.

  “Why?” Esmer said. “You're basically a dragon anyway. Why on earth would you want it?”

  He shrugged, not deigning to give her a response. Esmer noticed that in trade, Gerran was giving far more than what he took – a dozen or so magical objects for just three. “They're powerful enchantments,” he responded to her. “It's not often you come by a Gold Goblin collection.”

  Esmer admired the Sword of the Mountain, a lump in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she stroked the sheath, holding the legendary weapon of her kingdom, supposedly the most powerful artefact they'd ever held.

  All hers.

  Gerran inspected the Shadow Sword and tested the bull statue, which summoned a ghostly minotaur, wielding a battleaxe by his side.

  “The minotaur can't be targeted. Only by destroying the statue do you destroy the spirit. A useful weapon in battle.” Hattie nodded towards the transparent guardian, with red glowing eyes.

  After the trade, Hattie served them both cups of tea, and helped Esmer learn how to enchant tea so that it tasted better.

  “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 elicit 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 screa
m, 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.