by April Reid
Still drugged. He wanted to howl in frustration.
The night wind shifted and swirled, tantalizing his acute senses with brief snatches of Ashlyn's unique scent. Thank all the gods the quist hadn't dulled his normal senses.
He turned his head toward the scent, piercing the dark with dragon-enhanced vision, and saw her standing, unbound, in front of a dark clump of trees.
Naked! The bastards had stripped off her clothes and even her boots, leaving her exposed to the mountain chill.
Cursing the bandits, he tightened his muscles and strained at the ropes holding his wrists and ankles—tugging and jerking, he tried to loosen the wooden stakes. The ropes burned into his abraded flesh. Spurts of fiery pain down his back told him wounds left by the corrosive blister tree sap had broken open in his struggles.
Baldo swaggered across the circle, gave Basil a cheerful kick to the ribs, and stood grinning down at him. “Give it up, Greenstorm, and I'll let you watch me screw the lady with the pretty tits and ass before you die."
Gasping for breath, Basil gave the bandit a look that made the burly man step backward.
"Dogfucker.” Baldo drew a knife from his belt sheath and moved forward.
Then another voice called, “Hold, Baldo. Let the ceremony begin."
* * * *
Ashlyn, poised in the shadows, stared past the first line of rocks to Basil, tied and helpless.
After Ustim's command, Baldo had slunk back to join the rest of the bandits.
It was up to her to give them an erotic show. Had Basil's body been so mistreated that he couldn't respond to her efforts?
Carrying the folded tunic and water flask like an offering to the gods, she stepped into the illumination from both moons and the globe lights. At her appearance, the drummers began a slow beat on the log. Someone had brought a flute and the player added a high, sensuous melody to the deep throb.
Recalling moves learned as part of teachings to please a mate, she moved forward in a gliding step, swinging her hips to the pulsing drumbeats.
Basil's face was turned toward her. He'd gazed at her from the moment she'd first walked away from the trees. Firelight flickered on his stretched out, slick, tanned body.
The bandits called obscene suggestions, but she closed out the sound of their voices and focused on Basil—on his enticing mouth waiting for her lips; on his male nipples set in dark coins of hungry flesh, waiting for her tongue and teeth—and lower to his cock no longer hidden in the brush of dark, masculine curls.
She took three more gliding steps forward and posed with her hands lowered and away from her sides and breasts thrust forward to glimmer in the lights and arouse not only him, but the other men watching.
Ustim had said to give them a show, and she would to save Basil's life.
Setting aside the tunic and closed flask, she turned in a slow, sensuous circle, and plumped the globes of her breasts between her hands. Striking a pose as if offering them to an unseen lover, she tipped back her head, eyes closed in ecstasy, and felt her hair slide across the midpoint of her buttocks.
Three more swaying steps brought Ashlyn close to one of the fires. She paused and bathed in the heat, knowing the brighter light made her swollen breasts and full nipples more enticing.
One male voice shouted, “Come here, bitch. You can light my fire anytime,” and he laughed at his own joke.
"Promises, promises.” Forcing a laugh, she minced back to the flask and tunic, and swept up the flask.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose at the sense of a dark threat poised to strike. By the Great Goddess, she desperately wanted to be home or anywhere else, but Basil's life was in her hands.
With a flirty look from under half-closed eyelashes, she opened the stopper, gave a throaty laugh, and dribbled the herb-laced water down her breasts.
Dipping two fingers into the liquid, she spread it to each tit and in a line down her stomach to her own tangle of curls.
Wildly aware of Basil's rapt attention, she brought the wet fingers to her lips and sucked them into her mouth.
For the benefit of those watching, she curved her lips in a smile of lust to hide her excitement at the identity of the lemon-mint flavor.
She heard choked moans and a few curses from the bandits. The fickle wind carried the odor of unwashed male bodies and the distinctive musk of aroused men, but the only arousal that interested her was Basil's.
Sweeping up the tunic, she closed the last gap between them—watching his broad cock grow and lengthen at her approach.
She knelt by his head and formed a globe of light to better illuminate his face.
"Sweet lady,” he said in a low, choked voice, “I've put you in danger by not listening to my instincts and turning back."
"Hush, I made my own decision to continue up the trail,” she said in a soft voice. Propping up his head in the crook of her arm, she gave him a few sips of water.
He swallowed, then turned his face toward her and touched his mouth to her breast. A spark of raw desire trailed from his lips to her groin.
"By the great consort, you still turn me on,” he muttered.
"Greenstorm...” She struggled to focus on him instead of the needs storming through her body. “Don't talk. Save your strength and let the chalice-fruit in the water work while I clean your injuries."
"Chalice-fruit?” he mumbled.
"It neutralizes the effects of quist,” she answered in a barely-there voice that carried no farther than him.
"Good...” He closed his eyes as if looking inward. “'S not working."
"Give it time."
Aware of the dangerous growing restlessness among the audience, she poured a small portion of liquid on a section of the tunic, and spread her knees enough to flash the men each time she bent to clean the cuts and scrapes on Basil's face.
The repeated exposure of her damp labia made them more sensitive to the alternating cool breeze and fitful heat from the fires.
By the time she took his mouth in a deep kiss, she'd heard enough raw comments to know her strategy to keep their attention had been effective.
Quickly she finished the task, put aside the garment, and knelt between his legs. Leaning forward, she brushed his lower body with her breasts and then laid a quick kiss over his heart.
Easing lower down, she licked the skin around his navel. His stomach muscles trembled.
"That feel good?” she asked in a voice pitched so her audience could hear. “What about this?” She speared her tongue into his navel and he jerked.
"Good,” he gasped.
She set her teeth in the flesh beside his navel and nipped, then soothed the bite with a kiss.
"Damn you for a tease,” he said in a loud voice, tugging at the ropes binding his wrists and ankles.
"Lucky fuckin’ bastard,” one bandit called.
Several others offered their own bodies for teasing.
Ignoring the outlaws, she kissed her way down the line of skin and muscle from his navel to just above his short male hairs.
For the first time, she was confronted with the reality of taking a man's most private parts into her mouth. She knew she had to do it or Basil would suffer the consequences of the renegades’ anger for her not giving them a raw show to arouse them.
She brushed a finger along his broad shaft from the bulbous top to the round testicles at the base with a growing excitement and delight. His penis was fine-grained, warm, and living. She watched it respond to her touch, and that reminded her of the night in the cave when he'd lain between her legs and stroked her to blinding pleasure with his lips, mouth and tongue.
She wanted to bring that same ecstasy to Basil—even more so tonight when it might be their last time together.
Sitting back on her heels, she tenderly cradled his balls in one hand and folded the fingers of her other hand around his thick, warm cock. “Ohhh, look what I found,” she said in a low, husky tone. “A warrior's jewels and his mighty sword."
"Lady...
” he warned.
With a sly grin, she licked one side of his cock and watched it quiver. “Slave, call me, ‘mistress.’”
"Tease.” He tugged at the ropes again. His green eyes had gone wild.
"That's ‘Mistress Tease,'” she agreed, fingering his balls with one hand. Under her touch, his shaft grew longer, straighter and firmer.
His meaty length tempted Ashlyn. She slid her mouth over his velvet tip and struggled to reach the base of him. Holding him in her hot mouth, she gazed up his length and saw him throw his head back, eyes closed.
She pulled out just enough to say around the top of his brawny shaft, “Shall I stop, slave?"
"Gods, no—mistress.” Even tied as he was, he lifted his head enough to stare down his body to where she knelt between his legs with his cock between her lips.
Her heart lurched at the raw hunger in his gaze.
She slid farther down his quivering rod, using both hands to guide him deeper into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the vibrant feel of him—of his uniquely male taste.
He made a low, husky sound—one that raced to her core, tightening the hot coil of pulsing pressure between her legs.
Using one hand, she tickled his testicles. He gave another hoarse groan and she felt the balls draw up and harden.
"Ash—tease,” he called in a strained voice, even now protecting her identity. “I'm going to ... Ah, fuck me,” he cried as hot cum filled her mouth.
She swallowed the surging essence of him, caught in the wild, trembling heat of both their desires. Driven by the primitive need to join with him, body to body, she pulled her mouth loose from his slick length and straddled his hips.
His cock stood full and strong against her mons. With one hand, she guided it to her wet slit. The feel of slowly settling down its warm, thick length brought another gush of woman's cream.
The twin aromas of male and female musk—mingling and joining as one—rolled over her and heightened her sensitivity. The world of senses spiraled down to that one point of joining.
Pepper's harsh cry and her frantic words, ::Danger, danger—Baldo,:: jolted Ashlyn back to the present.
Dazed by the sudden change, she heard Baldo shout, “The bitch is mine."
Drawing away from Basil's helplessly bound body, she jumped to her feet and watched Baldo tear away from another man's grasp. The brute sliced at him with a sword and leaped into the circle. He left behind him a confusion of shouts and commands as Ustim and Stang restrained other bandits from charging into the ring.
Ashlyn choked back a cry and froze, but only for a moment. Baldo, sword raised, was headed toward Basil's exposed chest.
Her hands ached and burned. She formed a ball of light and threw it at the wild bandit. He threw up one arm to deflect the blinding light.
She heard Basil's vicious curses as he yanked and twisted at the ropes. From the corner of her eye she saw one binding on his wrist loosen the stake and pop it out of the ground. Twisting and pulling, he went to work on the stake holding his other wrist.
Her hands throbbed in pain. An inner voice told her to make fire. Desperate to try anything, she swept up the half empty flask, swung it around like stone sling, and sent it flying toward the man.
The missile bounced off him, spraying water. Pausing to wipe the liquid from his eyes, he roared, “I'll get you, bitch."
Stationing herself between Basil and Baldo, she concentrated on her cupped hands and cried, “Goddess, help. Give me fire."
Suddenly flames spurted from each fingertip, but didn't burn her skin.
Baldo screamed.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the loose stake, still tied to Basil's wrist, slash across the bandit's body. That desperate move didn't stop the brute's sword from slicing into the ground where Basil's arm and shoulder would've been if he hadn't managed to pull away.
She pointed to the blade, hesitated a split moment because it was too close to Basil, changed her aim to the bandit's arm, and shouted, “Burn."
Fire spurted from his sleeve and rapidly ate through the fabric to his skin. He howled in pain and fury. The sword fell from his fingers. Stumbling backward, he frantically beat at the flames spreading up his arm to his upper body.
Sickened by what she'd caused, Ashlyn screamed, “Baldo, roll in the dirt."
Even while she spoke, she swept up his sword and cut through the rope binding Basil's other wrist to a stake.
He jolted to a sitting position and held out his hand saying, “Give me the sword and run into the woods. I'll keep the bastards busy while you get Moonstone and escape."
"I won't leave you,” she said, handing him the sword.
He slashed the ropes holding his ankles, stood, wavered, and widened his stance to keep his balance after being bound for so long. He took a second to toss the tunic to her. “Put this on and step back. I'm going to shift."
She eyed the bandits, who had overwhelmed Ustim and Stang, and were charging toward the circle shouting threats.
"I'll dress later.” She draped the garment around her shoulders and raised her hands—fingers spread—toward the men. Her blood seemed to boil in her veins. A great flood of power swept from the bottom of her bare feet and up filling her body.
"Burn,” she commanded pointing to the bandits crossing into the circle. In resigned horror, she watched fire spurt from each man who'd stepped inside the ring.
Behind her came the muffled thud of the sword. She didn't dare take her attention from the next bunch of approaching bandits to glance at what was happening.
She felt a rush of air across her back. Suddenly the bandits stopped in their tracks and stared. Some drew their sword. Others turned and fled.
A powerful presence filled the night.
Pepper and Hawthorne flew in dizzy circles, calling, ::Welcome, great dragon, welcome.::
A deeper, somehow familiar voice flooded her mind and heart. ::Ashlyn, get ready. We're going to your family.::
Was it...
She whirled and faced a shimmering green dragon with gold edges on its wings and neck and along its muzzle. The gold-flecked green eyes gazing at her were filled with awesome intelligence.
Ashlyn swallowed hard and gasped, “Basil Greenstorm, you're a dragon?"
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CHAPTER 5
Basil swept Ashlyn into his arms—holding her close to protect her from a spate of arrows fired at them—and leaped into the night sky.
As he stroked heavily to gain height and speed, another flight of arrows followed. One tore through his right wing and another lodged in his shoulder.
Angling his head on his long neck, he gripped the pesky shaft in his jaws and pulled it from his thick hide.
He heard Ashlyn call his name, but the rush of wind stirred by their flight distorted further speech. Then her mental voice touched his mind more strongly than any other person ever had—even his family. ::Basil, you're bleeding. How badly are you injured?::
::It's nothing.::
::Don't tell me it's nothing,:: she answered in a silent voice colored by frustration. ::There's blood dripping from your shoulder.::
::My hide's thick. Any damage will heal when I shift forms.:: Exhilarated by their escape and the thrill of holding Ashlyn in his arms, he added, ::If you're worried, you can kiss my scratches and make them better after we land.::
::Arrogant male,:: she said in a disgusted tone.
Basil felt her thump his leg and he grinned into the darkness.
* * * *
They flew to the west as the stars slowly disappeared into the pale blue and pink of early dawn. Below them the broad river Gorm pointed the way to New Caledon, the capitol city of Avalonia.
They'd begun in the cold, pine-scented mountain air and swept down past the sage and dried grass aromas hovering over the rolling foothills and plains. Now they made their way through the warm ocean breezes laden with the fragrance of tropical trees and flowers.
Flying high across t
he sprawling city, Basil followed Ashlyn's mental map to a walled complex of buildings set on a bluff overlooking the dark waters of the bay.
::There's room in the stable yard for you to land,:: she said. ::After you shift, we can go in through one of the side doors.::
As he dropped lower toward Ashlyn's family compound, he saw faces upturned in his direction and people pointing. Bells began to ring across the city. More people erupted out of the buildings and stared upward at him. Women clutched their children. He heard faint screams.
::Ashlyn, they're acting like they've never seen a dragon. Is that not a shift form here?::
::Not for a hundred and fifty years. The last living dragons seen in Avalonia were feral rogues who chose to remain in their shift form. They ravished the countryside and carried off young men and women before the rogues were destroyed by the king's guard and magic.::
::What about the dragon shifters who remained in their human form and didn't go rogue?:: As he spoke with Ashlyn, Basil watched her family's household guard station themselves in and around the compound.
::The lost shifters,:: she answered in a sad tone. ::They either flew away into exile or lived here in a quist-haze the rest of their life.::
::Poor bastards.:: Bleakly he recalled the misty helplessness brought on by the drug.
::Yes.:: She stroked his leg. ::They may as well have gone into exile instead of living a half-life in Avalonia. In the end, they were shunned by everyone and listed as tainted in public records—including one of my mother's distant ancestors.::
::Harsh treatment,:: Basil commented, veering away from the stable yard to search for another landing place close to Ashlyn's home.
The warrior in him approved of the household guards’ positioning, even if it did make returning Ashlyn safely to her family more difficult.
His heart wanted him to fly away with her to his home in Cymbria and never return. Honor demanded he release Ashlyn to her family and give her the freedom to choose life in Avalonia or with him in a distant land.
While these thoughts tumbled through his mind, he looked for a place to land close to one of the compound gates. He finally spotted an open patch of grass and low-growing plants on the side closest to the bay.