Deep River Shifters 4 Book Box Set

by Lisa Daniels

  “I’m not planning to,” he said, whilst Ruelle glared at him.

  With the enchants finally in place, Ruelle and Kerric bid the seven witches goodbye, as they mounted their broomsticks and flew off into the Wilderness sky.

  “That was almost one eighth of my entire treasury for those enchants.” Kerric examined his treasure room, which no longer risked overflowing through the door. He appeared rather upset, and Ruelle relished the reaction.

  Over the next few hours, Ruelle noticed cats accumulating outside the cave entrance through the Spy Mirror, courtesy of Wenda the witch. It seemed Hattie’s cat enchantment worked a little too well. One prince strolled up to the cave entrance, before suddenly popping into a ball of fur, and meowing in confusion.

  “Well, it works,” Kerric said reluctantly, also peering through his Spy Mirror. “By the Gods, though, I’ve never seen a princess be so popular, so fast.”

  “I’m not going to explain to you again why,” Ruelle said, cracking her knuckles. “Now, are we going to train me or not?”

  The handsome dragon regarded her, before he allowed a smile to uplift his lips. “Sure. Let’s go ahead with this.”

  He liked her enthusiasm, though Ruelle felt her determination was false, because he stripped the idea of choice from her.

  Well, at least she adapted to what life shoved in her face. And if it planned to shove a shapeshifting dragon that wanted her to fight by his side, then she may as well put all her years of training to use.

  I’ll be as free as I can allow myself to be. She breathed in deep, placing her mind into a calm state, even as Kerric handed her a wooden sword.

  “Let’s test your ability to fight.” He readied himself, holding his training sword in a high guard, weight distributed well. Ruelle kept her stance careless, though the power curled through her body, fuelling every nerve. She highly doubted training with a dragon was what her parents intended for her to do – though their insistence at preparing her paid off. She mentally sent a note of thanks, even as Kerric executed the first move.

  She sidestepped and used the swing of his sword against him, though he stepped backwards to prevent his balance from betraying him. The move she did usually cleared out any rookies.

  Kerric grinned, speeding up his attacks. She parried and weakened every blow sent her way, and traded a few in return, aiming for potential openings, trying to trick her opponent off balance with different techniques. Sometimes she repeated the same moves, before switching suddenly, and sometimes she changed stances midway through a series of attacks, forcing him to react rapidly, or pay the consequence.

  The impression Ruelle got was that the longer she duelled, the more she suspected that Kerric completely outclassed her. He gave her the opportunity to test the limits of her skills, but he anticipated and reacted perfectly to every single one of her attempts to oust him. As if he was toying with her.

  He must be a lot older than he appears. She frowned at that realization. Who knew how long dragons lived for? Certainly longer than humans. More time to train in the techniques, to master the ways.

  Eventually, he retaliated with a series of lightning fast strikes, disarming her with a strike of the hand.

  She held her wrist. “Ow.”

  Kerric dabbed at the sweat on his forehead, nodding to himself. “Not bad,” he panted. “You’ve had a lot of practice. I can tell.”

  “So have you,” she replied, using her tunic to wipe her face before grabbing a glass of water.

  Kerric smiled at her confidence. “Not bad, princess. Not bad.”

  Compliments aside, Ruelle didn't know what sort of future lay in wait for her. She did know that training was something simple and relaxing for her. And she did find the steady accumulation of yowling cats outside amusing.

  Irritating fairy Godmother curses aside, she threw herself into training, viewing Kerric an able and respectful opponent. He fought with confidence and valor, dignity and beauty, and Ruelle found herself learning more about him through the art of combat.

  For example, he liked to go on the offense often, but not keep such a good defense, because he sought to overwhelm his opponent as quickly as possible. He had patience, but not as much as Ruelle possessed, and he harbored a strong pride in his abilities. Not the kind of pride that made him destructive and hateful of another person's skill, but a quiet confidence that he knew what to do and when to do it.

  The signs of a good warrior.

  Days passed as they trained. They progressed from sticks to wearing body armor and fighting with mithril swords, sparring and training over the course of three weeks, preparing for the Trial of Lovers.

  Meanwhile, the number of cats outside had accumulated into the hundreds, and Kerric constantly acted surprised at the number of Questers flocking outside their door. After a particularly vigorous sparring session, both of them lay on the sofa, towels strung over their heads as they drank water and recapped events. Ruelle cast her eyes about the room, proud of how it looked, before rechecking her tight fitting combat clothes, her flexible boots and soft, hard grip gloves. Her armor now lay on the side, so she could stretch out her limbs easier. Her curly blonde hair was scooped up to the nape of her neck in a knot, and she waited for her lungs to deflate and adjust up in a severe band. The blood in her body continued to throb, and she downed most of the glass of water in one go, sighing.

  “I honestly think we'll be ready to go tomorrow,” Kerric said, sprawled out, with his legs wide apart, revealing hairless knees and long blue boxers.

  Kerric seemed to like the color blue, Ruelle noted to herself. Most of his clothes displayed it, which she thought odd, since green would illuminate the beautiful color of his eyes more.

  He needed to wear better outfits, too. Underneath those clothes, she saw a male form in its prime, broad and powerful, and hard like iron, which she knew from the various times she'd tried to punch him in the stomach, almost breaking her wrists in the process.

  As a sparring partner and fellow fighter, she respected him. He took the time to train her, to coach her, more intensive than any of her tutors dared, because they didn't want to wound a princess. Princesses were supposed to be unblemished and soft. One with scars turned heads and deranked her in the eyes of royals. Kerric, however, left her with bruises from her mistakes, welling along her arms and thighs.

  “If you expect to go through a fight without getting hurt, you're going to be sorely disappointed,” he told her.

  At her bequest a week earlier, Kerric had inquired around the auction site to find out where Xanthia was sold to. “A collector from the Gloomy Swamp. They say he has about fifteen princesses now, and is an incredibly wealthy dragon with a lot of experience handling them. Not a good sign for your sister to be rescued if he's held onto that many princesses, I'm afraid.” Kerric paused, examining their defenses. “Even my security will be torn down with the right amount of artefacts from an experienced Quester. What I have takes care of the woefully unprepared ones.”

  “Yeah. I can see that.” Looking into her Spy Mirror, Ruelle saw around two hundred cats sunbathing or meowing. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  “Don't worry. Someone will receive the Quest to rescue those who have been turned into cats sooner or later. They'll be fine.” Kerric shuffled closer to Ruelle, peering into her mirror, and she scented his hot body, the sweat still clinging to his skin, and noticed the pert nipples under his shirt with an odd hunger. A hunger she couldn't explain, but stirred in the pit of her stomach, and sometimes consumed her thoughts at night.

  Some nights she lay awake, dreaming of what might happen if she invited the shapeshifter into her bed, imagining the whole process from start to finish. It made her cheeks flush, before she always corrected her thoughts afterward. Hot human form or not, she was still a captive. A dragon's princess, with all the rules that applied to the situation. Although, to be fair, he didn't ask her to do chores, or lock her precisely. She could roam around the outside of the cave, as long as she di
dn't intend to escape. In the middle of a lonely forest, though, with trees so dark and thick she barely saw past them, she didn't find much to explore.

  Most of her stimulus came from sparring and from conversations with Kerric, prying into his mind and figuring out how he operated. Where he came from.

  The dreams she envisioned, they were dangerous to allow out. If he caught any wind of them, she knew Kerric would pounce upon the opportunity. Reel her in with a touch, a caress, and pin her down with his lust.

  She shivered at the thought, trying to redirect her fantasies into something else.

  “Why do you like wearing blue so much?”

  Kerric shrugged, his green eyes gentle. “It's the color of the sky and of freedom. It's also water, as a reminder to keep my cool when my temper flares high.”

  “Really?” She stored the information away for later, digesting it in interest. He sounded more like poet when he talked about the sky, rather than a bodyguard of the Dark Clans, a person who presided over nobility as they got sold to prospective clients.

  “You don't like wearing dresses so much, princess,” Kerric said, which forced a laugh out of her.

  “I've been sparring with you every single day. It's pointless to wear a dress if it's only going to be ruined.”

  “You've had plenty of time to wear one, princess,” he disagreed, clicking his fingers. “We don't spar continuously. I have to go on my errands and I give you spare time to yourself. Yet you never bother dressing up at all. Why?”

  For some reason, his words sent a well of sadness within her. She wanted to snap at him, and hesitated in confusion when emotion flooded her lungs and heart, stretching her stomach. Her eyes fought to contain the threat of tears.

  “I don't know.”

  Kerric faced her on the sofa, one eyebrow arched. “Are you sure about that answer? Because your reaction suggests you do know.”

  Ruelle closed her eyes, resting her palms on her lap. She sifted through her thoughts and feelings, trying to locate the source of the sadness. “Because... I never got to be a princess.”

  Silence dipped in the room. Her words sounded absurd. Not like a princess. Even though she was one. What a dumb thing to say. She opened her mouth to retract the statement, but Kerric stood up, holding his hand to her.

  “We're going to the wardrobe in your chambers now. Come on.”

  Under her weak protests, Kerric dragged her to the wardrobe, which she opened, before asking it to display gowns that suited her body. The wardrobe gave a wriggle of confirmation, shaking its dark mahogany doors, before a set of glittering, fabulous gowns appeared within the inner rack holder.

  Kerric patiently helped her pick out a silken, dark red dress, with a zip at the back, and a large wire frame puffing out the bottom half like the delicate layers of a rose. The silk shoulder pads bulked out her slender form with additional folds, and the gown cut low into her chest, causing her cleavage to bulge noticeably in the tight confines.

  When she wore it with red gloves and black shoes, twirling in front of the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. She appeared years older, years more regal. A respectable princess with a haughty, upfront attitude from a life of luxury.

  In short, closer to how she wanted to be. She smiled at herself in the mirror, before ruffling her curls out of the band, letting them fall instead enticingly onto her shoulder. She watched the formerly sore, plain princess transform into a stunning royal.

  Kerric disappeared from the room for a few moments, and when he came back, he had dressed himself up too, wearing a blue shirt (of course), black pants, a black bowtie which appeared lopsided under his collar, and a black jacket with golden cufflinks, wedged with glittering emeralds inside. His shoes took on a life of their own, narrowing into a wedge point at the end, longer than what feet extended to.

  He looked dashing. Like a prince.

  A prince with a steamy, heart-stopping body, with long dark hair swept into a ponytail, and green eyes which shone from his thin, noble face. When he smiled, it looked both imperious but kind at the same time, an odd combination that made Ruelle pay more attention to him. She drank in the glorious sight of him.

  A prince and a princess.

  When he presented her with a golden rose, her eyes became rather watery.

  “I have to say, you look like one of the most beautiful princesses I've ever set eyes upon. Like a living dream,” he said, making her cheeks flare from the flattery. Her heart drifted light and unburdened by her decorated body. She wished now she lived back in the castle with her family, unveiling to them this sight, showing she was more than a fighter in plain robes. More than what her sisters believed her to be.

  He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”

  Rolling her eyes but smiling fondly, she placed her arm within his, and strolled with him to the main chamber, where a chair, two tables and a tablecloth had been tugged to the middle. The cauldron bubbled away, making one of the five dishes the enchantment allowed it to. Kerric placed her in the seat.

  “Your food will be here shortly, princess,” he said, bowing courteously, before taking two bowls of creamy leek and potato soup out of the cauldron, complete with fresh bread to dip it in. “First course, a hearty soup and warm, soft bread.”

  Ruelle might have eaten this food several times in the past few weeks, but she loved the wholesome flavor, and tucked into it with enthusiasm.

  “I'd dance with you, princess, but I'm not actually a terribly good dancer. We would just sway from side to side, and there's no music to lighten the mood.”

  “Don't worry. What you're doing is wonderful,” she said, sighing in wistful happiness. “Maybe we can take a walk afterwards, if it isn't raining.”

  “Maybe,” Kerric said, quietly downing his soup, rarely taking his eyes off her. The abrupt attention rose the temperature in her body, and reminded her of the dreams that haunted her conscience, whenever she found herself stopping for a moment to admire his form. She remembered the way his muscles rippled as he moved, and the strong scent that emanated from his skin, surrounded her in an alluring aroma.

  She dressed up back at home, but never felt anything special when wearing the clothes. Her sisters and brothers thought she appeared too out of place to justify wearing such expensive items – and honestly, she'd ruined a few practicing in the mud, when she wanted to try and train wearing one.

  When they started and finished their second course, a delightful potato and meat based dish layered with cheese – maybe not the healthy vegetables of back home, but a fulfilling meal nonetheless – Kerric got up, held his arm out to her again and invited her to walk with him outside.

  “Thank you for this, Kerric. Seriously.”

  “No need to thank me, princess. Just because you happen to be stuck in a cave with a dragon, doesn't mean you should never get to feel like the princess you are. How come you think like this, though? About not being like a princess?”

  Ruelle halted when they rounded the corner, where the stone cavern door had been rolled aside (another additional security measure installed by the witches) and she saw torrential rain pouring down.

  So much for the walk, then. “Well, I had some stupid curse placed on me by an evil fairy Godmother. My parents knew they couldn't reverse the curse, so they spent years training me up instead to deal with it. Once I reached my eighteenth birthday, I would be taken by darkness and never return to my kingdom again. Pretty glum, right?”

  Kerric observed the rainfall, giving a small shrug. “Let's not take that walk outside. We can just sort of... walk around the cave instead.”

  Ruelle agreed, and they now began an odd pacing up and down the small confines of his cave. “Well, the first part is true. You were taken by the Dark Clans. So I suppose that's the darkness. Gods, I hate these vague prophecies.” She noticed the omission of himself, and didn’t push it.

  “Me, too. It's like they can never give you a straight answer. Like I had a brother with a blessing that said the color ye
llow would be his lucky color. Gave him a massive complex and an abnormal fear of other colors. You'd never see him in the dining rooms because we all liked wearing different dresses and tops.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Do you have any family, Kerric? You live in this cave all by yourself. Do dragons have family like us?”

  Kerric licked his lips. His brow crumpled in thought. “We have family. Unlike your Hundred Kingdoms, though, we don't have quite so many of those. We have around two kingdoms, and the rest are small clans or isolated caves like mine. I have a brother I haven't spoken to in over sixty years, and a sister who is part of the two kingdoms, married to a king.” He stopped, turned with her, and began pacing back to the entrance. “We prefer our isolation and space. Those who choose to give that up tend to disintegrate into very human like bickering and clashes over time.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “I've never known mine. Our eggs were left unhatched for over four hundred years, before a forest fire heated them up enough to crack open.”

  Ruelle blinked rapidly at this information, unable to comprehend the idea that a dragon could wait hundreds of years to be born. It also rose other questions to mind. Questions that concerned her drifting thoughts.

  “So... dragons hatch from eggs?”

  Kerric smiled at her, and it came tinted with mischief. “If they choose to mate as dragons, yes. If a male dragon causes a human female to be pregnant, however, she will give birth to a human child. Not lay an egg like a chicken. For some reason, we seem to be quite compatible as species.” He lifted his free hand up to brush her curls, revealing her tender neck. Where his fingers touched, they left a trail of fire that ignited her already heated cheeks further, and she shivered, a curious, melting sensation flooding through her body.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to give in. To succumb to his touch. Whatever Kerric meant to her, she did know that she liked him a lot more than anticipated. Enough to watch him as he moved, to enjoy listening to his voice, and training with him. Along with the occasional close contact.