by April Reid
Then she knew and her heart leaped. “I've dreamed of you for many nights, but I don't know your identity."
He tightened his grip on her wrists as if he'd never release her. “I am Basil Greenstorm d'Vortimer of Cymbria, and I've come for you."
His mouth came down on her lips, claiming her. His chest pressed against her breasts, bringing them to aching attention. The hard ridge of his cock tapped at her tender mound and the melting began between her thighs.
He gently took her top lip between his teeth. Fire shot through her nerves and tingled down her body to the sensitive little nub she'd discovered in her own explorations. Passion exploded in her body. She squirmed to get closer.
"Not yet,” he said in a low, intimate tone. “First I want to play with your pretty breasts."
Slipping down her body, he stretched out with his legs cradled between hers and half-turned so his thick, meaty cock pressed against the inside of her upper leg. It jerked and thrust while he cupped her breasts and nuzzled the soft valley in between. His strong, callused fingers moved in spirals around her areolas, skimming close but never touching the beaded tips. With each teasing glide, her nipples grew harder, hungrier to be pleasured.
"Please,” she begged.
"Please, what? This?” He flicked one super-sensitive tip, then the other, and she jolted at the edgy sensation.
"Yes. More.” Arching her back, she raised her breasts higher to his lips and the stretching increased her pleasure.
His hot mouth replaced his fingers—sucking at one tip and then the other—back and forth—tonguing each nipple in turn while the breeze cooled the other.
Pressure gathered low in her body. More woman's honey flowed between her legs. The scent of her own arousal—and his—drifted in the air. The heaviness coiled tighter and tighter.
Almost blind with intense delight, she looked down at his mouth pleasuring her breasts and writhed in ecstasy at the erotic fires burning through her body.
With an incoherent cry, she speared her fingers in his dark, thick hair—wanting him to stay and feast on her forever.
Looking up her body, he gave her a slow smile filled with promise, while his busy fingers tugged and carefully pinched her hot tips.
"We're nearly there,” he said in a satisfied tone. Then he took one engorged nipple between his teeth and bit. The rush of ecstasy hit her like nothing she'd ever felt.
She screamed, “Goddess, oh, Goddess—Basil—again!"
"By the consort, yes!” He nipped her other breast.
Light exploded behind her eyes. A sensual storm swept her up and plunged her back into paradise. Small shocks and quakes rippled through her internal muscles down to her yoni. Exquisite vibrations trembled through her whole being until she lay spent and panting.
Rising to his knees, Basil took her limp hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Ashlyn?"
She tried to speak, licked her lips, took a deep, shuddering breath, and murmured, “Wonderful."
He chuckled. “And that was only your breasts. I can hardly wait to show you more."
"Now?” she said hopefully.
"Later.” He stood and offered her a hand. “Your mounts are growing restless."
"Oh, no. Moonstone. Foxfire.” She scrambled to her feet, ignoring his silent offer of help in her worry over the horses.
One look at them waiting patiently reassured her they were in no immediate danger, but she chided herself for not at least leaving them in the shade.
Then she recalled her first impulse had been to rescue the stranger before the ocean claimed him.
A light sting in her breasts reminded her she was nude from the waist up. Instead of hurrying to cover herself, she felt desirable and proud in the presence of a man.
She saw that same desire reflected in his gleaming green-and-gold eyes.
He reached out and traced the curve of her breast with one finger, then dropped his hand to his side and stepped back.
Just his brief touch set off another sensual explosion. Her knees grew weak. She desperately wanted to lie down at his feet and offer herself to him in every way.
Then duty reminded her of the patient horses.
Slowly—watching him lick his lips as he tracked her movements—she picked up her tunic, shook off most of the sand, and slipped the damp garment over her head.
His thick cock jutting from its nest of dark hair told her how much he still wanted to take her.
Once more she experienced her newfound feminine power.
* * * *
By late afternoon they had camp set up in one of the caves a short walk from a spring-fed pool. They'd bathed in the lower end where water flowed over the smooth edge into a narrow stream shaded by silvery soap plants and ferns.
After changing into a bright lava-lava fastened above her breasts, she'd gathered pieces of precious amber washed up on the beach.
While she worked, she was achingly aware of Basil Greenstorm d'Vortimer's presence. His middle name, Greenstorm, described the way he affected her senses when he was near.
Earlier, when they'd gone to get the mounts, Basil had spotted his pack tumbling in the waves near shore and retrieved it. He'd extracted a length of cloth and wrapped it lava-lava style around his lean waist.
With quiet efficiency that told of his experience with horses, he'd helped her water and groom Moonstone and Foxfire and then picket them in a small, sun-dappled meadow, where they contentedly munched on lush grass and the tender leaves of low bushes.
Ashlyn had been amazed at his quick recovery. Then she'd recalled shapeshifters had the ability to heal more quickly than those without the gift of shifting.
At least she'd inherited the benefit to heal quickly, she mused, even if she couldn't shift to another shape.
Ignoring the familiar regret of being, as Marama Evelina had said, magic-blind and shifter-dumb, she turned back to what she did know—collecting and evaluating minerals and plants used for the esoteric spells of magic and more humble herbs for the body's health.
Her current task was to inspect and evaluate the raw amber she'd collected from the debris left by the ocean.
While she sorted by size, clarity, and inclusions of insects or bits of leaves or other debris, Basil sat on his heels in front of his open pack, spreading items out on the stone cave floor.
When he laid out a sword in its well-kept scabbard, Ashlyn caught her breath. Had she trusted him too soon?
::Pepper, Hawthorne ... ::
::We see the weapon.:: Pepper, sun bathing at the cave entrance, rustled her wings in a flash of blue. ::Hawthorne and I will keep you safe.::
Apparently unaware of her sudden caution, Basil slid the sword from its protection and tipped it so the light slanting into the cave glimmered on the sharp blade.
While he studied the weapon, Ashlyn closed her fingers around a large chunk of muddy-colored amber she'd relegated to the burn-for-incense-pile. Nervously she wondered why she had so easily dropped her guard. The makeshift weapon wasn't heavy enough to do any damage to a warrior, but it might distract him long enough for her to use her small knife so she could make a run to the horses and get away.
Slowly, hoping to escape his notice, she prepared to stand.
No, she thought rebelling at the idea of abandoning everything to an outlander. Could she find a way to—
"Ashlyn? Trouble?” He rose to his feet, sword in hand, with a swiftness that caught her off-guard.
He rushed past her with a curt, “Stay back,” and stood between her and the entrance, scanning the outside area.
He's protecting me. The realization washed over her in a wave of relief.
Tense minutes passed while he stood protectively between her and any danger—measured by her heartbeat and the growing knowledge that he'd had plenty of time throughout the day to wound, capture, or kill her.
Finally he faced her. “What alarmed you?"
Deciding on the truth, she said, “You,” and opened her hand to show him the would
-be weapon. “How can I be sure you're not one of the bandits roaming this isolated part of Avalonia?"
"Bandits?” He prowled closer. “Your family allowed you to travel here unprotected?"
"I'm not unprotected. I have my fairy-dragon and her mate."
"No magical spells?"
"I'm magic-blind and shifter-dumb,” she blurted out, then silently cursed her unruly tongue.
"Don't undervalue yourself.” Basil settled on his heels beside her, set his sword to one side, and cupped her chin in his hand. “Your aura shines with latent abilities. You just have to find the key."
"The key?” she repeated, drawn by his vital power and understanding.
"To unlock your self-doubts—like this.” He slowly lowered his mouth to hers giving her the chance to accept or reject his kiss.
As if his careful restraint released her, she flung herself against him. “Help me find the key,” she begged.
"Sweet Ashlyn,” he said in a low, passion-choked voice. “You give voice to my dreams."
Rising in one fluid motion, he lifted her into his arms and carried her deeper into the cave where they'd set two padded pallets on a cushioning base of fresh palm tree fronds.
* * * *
Basil stood Ashlyn on the cool cave floor beside the pallet, already burning with the fire that threatened to consume him if they didn't make love again—and longer, deeper. His cock had swollen to full alert. He knew he had to slow down until her body was as ready as his.
He bunched up the hem of her lava-lava and hummed in pleasure when he felt her warm, naked flesh. Gripping her lush ass with one hand, he rubbed his other fingers up and down the silky skin over her spine.
She leaned into him, murmured his name, then kissed his throat, his jaw, and touched her warm tongue to his ear. “Take me. Make love,” she said in a low, sultry voice, “the way you did in our dreams."
"By the great consort, I promise.” Stripping off her lava-lava, he dropped it on the rocky floor and settled her on the padding.
In the pale light reflected from outside her eyes were deep blue pools of feminine mystery.
Easing down on his knees beside her, his gaze drifted across her face and down her body.
"I'm ready,” she said with an inviting smile, and cupped her breasts together, deepening the cleavage.
His cock flexed painfully as his gaze lingered on the lush apricot color of her areolas and her ripe-berry nipples perfect for his hungry mouth. He'd sampled her breasts when they were salty from the ocean. Would they taste even sweeter after their earlier swim in the fresh water pool?
His balls felt like lead—heavy—tugging at his groin. Sexual heat gripped him and sent sweat sliding down his spine.
Leaning over her, he took one bright tip in his mouth and played with it—first flattening it against the roof of his mouth, then sucking on it. As he tasted and suckled at the sweet flesh, he felt her fingers grip his hair.
He paused, let one nipple pop out of his mouth, and repeated his sexual play with the other.
Tightening her grip on his head, she crooned his name over and over. Restlessly she shifted her legs, showing him her growing arousal. The spicy scent of her woman's juices drew him to the source hidden behind the pale tangle of curls covering her mons.
With one last kiss to each nipple, he moved down to lie flat on his stomach, half on the pallet, half off, and slid his hands up her legs until her thighs separated beneath his loving palms.
"Basil? What are you doing?"
From her reactions, he knew he was the first to ever touch her this intimately, and he nearly lost his resolve to go slowly.
"More loving.” He bent and tasted her as if she were the most exquisite dessert. Her breath shattered on a sweet cry.
He settled in for some serious tasting. Gently he pressed her outer lips together with the pads of his fingers. Then murmuring sounds of pleasure, he pressed his mouth against her female-spiced labia and brushed a soft, quivering kiss across the tender flesh.
She made a soft, throaty sound. Her thighs quivered.
Slowly, he lapped at the labia, listening to her broken breathing.
"You taste wonderful—mmm,” he murmured to reassure her, then nudged her swollen petals apart and lightly circled the tender, sensitive flesh surrounding her fragrant slit.
His balls grew harder with each passing moment. He reached down to adjust his cock, without losing his sensual rhythm.
Her warm thighs shivered against him. She clutched at the pallet and spread her legs wider, offering him easier access.
Heat and pressure gathered at the base of his spine. In the depths of his mind, the stirrings of dragon lust—the all-powerful must—began to unfold, and he clamped down on it—hard. This was the wrong time. Only a female dragon could meet him in dragon lovemaking. For now, he craved the fiery pleasure of making love with Ashlyn.
Her swollen clitoris begged for his attention. He gave it a long, slow swipe, then circled the hot love knot with his tongue.
* * * *
Ashlyn found herself caught up in a storm of pleasure greater than she'd ever experienced. Then the quick, shimmering fires changed into the sharp, scorching flames of a greater arousal than she'd ever known.
When she thought she could stand no more of the twisting, relentless tension, she asked him to stop the delicious torment, but he chuckled and slid long, talented fingers into her, stretching her while he once more sucked on her love knot. Suddenly she knew nothing else but an ecstasy so astonishing she would've screamed if she could've found her voice.
He slid his dick into her throbbing slit at the height of her climax, driving her even higher—teaching her with every stroke of his hard, thick cock that she was truly a sensuous woman and making the pain and terror of rape by the Pan-surrogate a dim memory.
* * * *
The sun had set while they'd made love. Only the light from a carbide lamp set on a nearby rocky shelf cast a small circle of illumination against the dark.
Ashlyn stretched muscles filled with delicious memories of pleasure beyond any she'd ever known. She turned her head and gazed at Basil on the sleeping pad pulled up close to her. The pale light washed across the side of his face, but his eyes, nose, and mouth were deep in shadow.
If only I could form a globe of light like my mother can to illuminate the cave. Ashlyn sighed at the impossible dream and rubbed her suddenly itchy palms on the cazwool blanket covering the pallet.
The itch changed to sharp pain. She sat bolt upright, cupped her hands instinctively and studied her red and aching palms and fingers.
"What's wrong?” Basil rose and turned to her.
"My hands...” Her voice trailed off as a soft glow gradually filled the curve of both of her cupped fingers and palms.
"I ... I can't do this. I don't know how to make globes of light,” she said in a choked voice. “I never have. I'm magic-blind."
"Not anymore.” Leaning forward, Basil cradled her face between his hands, touching a kiss to her forehead. “You just found the key."
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 3
Basil shifted in the saddle on Swiftfoot, the sturdy mountain-bred Barb he'd purchased two days earlier from a horse trader in Doryville using one of the gold dirhem royals he'd carried from Cymbria tucked in his duffle.
This morning, they'd stopped near the base of an active volcano called the Black Angel to collect glossy black chunks of obsidian—some rounded by nature into Apache Tears. Then they'd turned inland and followed a lesser-traveled road into the central range of mountains.
Each day alone with Ashlyn was a gift from the Goddess and consort, and he rode in a half-aroused state from just thinking about making love with her.
Ahead on the trail, Ashlyn reined her mare to one side, leaving enough room beside her and the packhorse for him to join them. She'd chosen a spot under the long shadows of an ancient broad oak backed by towering twin pine trees. The cool, spicy shade felt good after
the long ride.
In companionable silence they gazed back where they'd come from at the sweep of land and ocean visible from this high point.
Both fairy-dragons had ridden with them since he and Ashlyn had shared parts of their lunch with the mated pair before starting up the winding track. Pepper had dozed on Ashlyn's shoulder, while Hawthorne had chosen the bedroll lashed behind Swiftfoot's saddle. Now the fairy-dragons swept into the air, flying in joyous circles around each other before darting under the thick oak branches toward the forested mountain slopes and out of sight.
"We've made good time,” Ashlyn said gesturing to the distant bulk of Black Angel Mountain and its ever-present plume of smoke.
Basil recognized the position of the volcano as the one he'd seen on his approach to Avalonia. Of more immediate concern was the coming of sunset.
"We need to find a campsite soon,” he said.
"I've been this way before. Another twenty or thirty minutes ride up the mountain will bring us to a stone shelter used by the few travelers on this shortcut between the north and south coast roads. There's a source of fresh water and each party using the shelter replaces any wood they've used."
"Sounds perfect."
Basil's dream of an easy camp and a long night of lovemaking with Ashlyn was interrupted when Swiftfoot danced uneasily in place, ears pricked forward and his head turned toward a thick stand of ferns and brush some twenty feet or so beyond the oak and pines and closer to the bulk of the upper mountain.
Thanks to his dragon shift-shape ability, Basil's senses were more acute than most humans. Unsheathing his sword, he lifted his head to sample the faint scents in the air, but the suspicious area was downwind, with the prevailing ocean winds coming from behind him.
"Wait here and be ready to ride back the way we came.” He urged his mount toward whatever had caught Swiftfoot's attention.
::Outlander, danger,:: an unfamiliar voice invaded his thoughts. ::Bandits approach.::
The black fairy-dragon, Hawthorne landed on Basil's shoulder. ::We must protect Marama Ashlyn. Do not reveal her identity or they may torture her in revenge for her father's decisions in council.::