by April Reid
Pepper's inner thoughts hummed with anticipation.
In quick succession, three other males landed in the garden, gave Ashlyn a quick look, then fairly strutted over to Pepper. Each carried an offering—a flower, a colorful bug, or a tempting piece of fruit.
Suddenly, the female fairy-dragon crouched, hissing at the males. With a great leap, she soared into the sky, calling, ::Catch me if you can.::
A breath later Hawthorne flew after her, followed by the other males—each one leaving a musky scented trail.
The ground fell away in a blaze of speed. Her body throbbed with the oldest imperative in creation—to mate with her chosen life partner. Ashlyn barely had time to realize her mind and heart were locked with Pepper's in the wild mating flight before the heady combination of sex and danger took over.
Together in mind and spirit, the females drove higher, determined to make the males work hard to mark her/them as mate.
Twisting in a fast loop, she looked back and laughed at the clumsy dragons with mating musk slicking their sides and swollen cocks thrust forward.
::Hawthorne has outpaced the others, but I/we are swifter.:: Pepper chortled.
For good measure, she aimed another hiss at them before going into a swooping, twisting dive.
Ustim's brown-and-gold male made a determined race at her, barely skimming her body with his tail before she slipped out of the coil and shot straight upward.
::I'm the queen—the ruler of wind and sky—and no one can catch me until I'm ready.::
The Pepper/Ashlyn fairy-dragon arrowed higher. Wings grew tired, breath ached in their throats, but still they climber higher—driven by the primitive need to sort out the strongest mate.
One by one the males fell away, except for Hawthorne. His determination both angered and thrilled Pepper at the deepest level.
Closing with her, he tried to coil his tail around her body. She swooped away and up, only to find herself trapped in his embrace. He rubbed the side of his neck along hers. His erotic male musk filled her senses and set her own female juices flowing.
She twined her neck with his and opened her slit to his swollen cock. As they fell through the sky, he thrust in, pumping his great shaft—slipping out—thrusting in again—and spurted his living seed into her womb, while she screamed with pleasure.
Still rocked with glittering bliss, she suddenly saw the ground rushing up to meet them.
::Hawthorne?::
"I have you, Ashlyn,” a deep male voice answered, and dazedly she realized Basil held her hand.
"Pepper? Hawthorne? Where?"
"Safe.” He pointed upward where Hawthorne's strong wings carried both him and Pepper toward the ground in a long glide.
"Gods!” She drew her fingers away from him and scrubbed her face with both hands. Her swollen nipples scraped against her tunic. The hot coil of lust between her legs tightened.
Basil's awesome male body so close was a temptation she couldn't ignore.
He touched her shoulder. “Ashlyn, can I help?"
"Help?” She turned toward him like a female dragosaur pouncing on fresh prey. “Take me. Love me,” she panted, tugging at his vest, too blinded by soaring desire to unlace the fastenings across his chest.
Brushing her fingers aside, he quickly unlaced the garment, while she turned her attention to the sash around his waist.
"Hurry, hurry,” she demanded.
His vest flashed past, revealing his muscled abdomen. In the meantime, she fought the obstinate coils around his waist. She wanted to tear away the stubborn fabric with her teeth.
Finally, the intricate knot yielded. She drew it away from him, unwrapping the male glory that was Basil Greenstorm.
She heard a rip as her own clothes gave way to his strength.
Locked in an embrace, they rolled across the narrow strip of grass and landed on their sides in the fragrant bed of lemon mint and basil edged with spicy sweet William.
His mouth fastened on her nipple and sucked. His busy hands found her erotic places—not only her pussy, but also the shivery places behind her knees and the dimple at the base of her spine.
One of his fingers, moistened in her own woman's dew, teased her swollen clit—sliding over and around the throbbing love knot. The other slipped down the crack between her butt cheeks.
Wildly, she scrabbled at his broad back with her fingernails—deep in desire and blinded by need. The scent of his moist male skin filled her nostrils. Rearing her head back, she bit his side under one arm.
He growled and plunged two fingers into her slit and partway out. His other hand reached between her legs from behind, dampening his fingers in her natural lubricant.
"Ever been finger-fucked in your ass?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone, pressing against her butt hole.
"N ... no, but I want everything, everything..."
"Good. It's your first time, so I'll use my smallest finger."
His hand slid back and forth across the tight opening. Nerve endings came alert in a shimmer of waiting.
At the same time, his fingers between her labia twisted. She caught her breath. The heavy, hot tension expanded through her nerves.
She felt the steady pressure opening the tight, puckered flesh low between her butt cheeks. Slowly her body yielded to his relentless pressure. More nerve endings came alive. Arching her back to give his magical fingers more room, caught between two points of unspeakable pleasure, she buried her face against his chest and urged, in a breathy voice, “More. Oh, Goddess, more."
At her cry, both Basil's hands worked in and out fast and hard—and tipped her over the edge into a gasping, shattering orgasm.
* * * *
They lay together in a damp, exhausted heap. Basil didn't want to move. His body was tucked against Ashlyn's, skin-to-skin. Her drift of flaxen hair flowed across both of them in a shining veil.
The morning sunlight warmed their bodies. A gentle breeze—filled with the fragrance of spice, blooming flowers, and the crushed lei around her neck—brushed their satiated bodies.
Ashlyn opened her eyes and smiled at him. With the side of her face cradled on the short, vibrant plants, she murmured, “You ... that ... we.” She rolled her head slightly, releasing a complex scent of lemon and peppery sweet William. “It was beyond wonderful."
"Wonderful.” Sitting up, he lifted one hand, still slick with her woman's juice, and tucked away a strand of hair tangled in her eyelashes. “My brave lady, I love you. Come to Cymbria with me and be my bride, my life partner."
Her eyes welled with tears and one trickled away into the herb bed. “The Goddess knows I love you, but my father has promised me to King Maldoc. According to our tradition, I must obey his wishes as long as I live unmarried under his roof."
Angry at the situation and afraid because he could feel the possibility of their life together slipping out of his control, Basil said, “Leave his house. Move away. I recovered my money from the bandits, and I can find us a place to live out of your father's reach. If you want to stay in Avalonia instead of going to Cymbria, we'll remain someplace safe in this country."
While he spoke, she sat up and wiped more tears from her face. “I wish it were that simple, but the promise has already been made. Even it it's against my wishes, I must marry the king or destroy my family's honor."
"Let your father repair his own honor,” Basil said savagely. “He's the one who made the damned promise."
"Dear one, I agree with you about my father, but what will happen to my mother, my sister and brother, and even silly Evelina?” She drew his hand to her face and nestled it against her cheek.
Just that touch stirred his tenderness. An unmanly knot formed in his throat. He swallowed and said, “I love my family, so I understand what you said, but by the great consort and Goddess, there must be a way to protect them and free you from your father's promise to the king."
"The only way would be to win the place as consort surrogate for the Grass Moons ceremony,” she said
in a tear-thickened voice. “To do that, you'd have to defeat King Maldoc in a duel on the sacred platform."
He flexed his fingers against her cheek. “In Cymbria, we choose our surrogate consort each time in a series of swordfight contests between warriors from all over the country, including outlanders. Is that how it's done here?"
"Yes. The final winner from the warriors must meet the king in a duel for the honor.” She traced the raised veins in his arm, then lifted her gaze to his. “In all the years of his reign, King Maldoc has never been defeated."
The tightness eased in Basil's chest. “There's always a first time for the eternal winner to lose.” He traced a finger across her lips. “To have you, Ashlyn, I'd duel with the devil and all his demons."
"No. You can't.” Her face turned as white as bleached bones. She pulled away from him and crossed her arms tight against her bare breasts. “You'll be killed."
"Ashlyn, in Cymbria, I'm a king's warrior, and I've survived battles and one-on-one combat.” He wrapped his arms around her stiff body. After a few moments, she melted into his embrace.
"Dear heart,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Please—I forbid you to fight Maldoc. I can't bear the thought of you dying."
Slowly she sat up, she removed the lei from her neck, and smoothed the crushed, silent blossoms. “I'll miss you."
"I'll bring you another necklace of singing flowers,” he offered.
Her hand gently closed around one of the few undamaged flowers and it gave a soft chime. “My love, I wasn't talking just about the flowers."
Once more, he started to draw her into his embrace, but she shook her head and said, “My whining doesn't change anything. I'd better get dressed before someone comes looking."
Silently he handed Ashlyn her garments and stood to don his.
While he fastened his lava-lava and wrapped his sash around his waist, he watched her graceful movements as she dressed. Only minutes earlier, she'd been a wild, sensual woman in his arms.
He finished tying the traditional Singing Islands knot in his sash, recalling her struggle to untie it so they could make hot, sweaty love. Now with each piece of clothing, he felt her slipping away as she returned more and more to her duty and obligations as the first daughter of the Toscano family.
A crooning sound turned his attention to Pepper and Hawthorne. The two fairy-dragons perched close together on the branch of a kuku'i nut tree.
Hawthorne plucked one of the oval-shaped, hard-shelled nuts from a nearby cluster and gallantly cracked it before offering the spicy kernel to Pepper.
She took it daintily and nibbled at the token of their union as mates.
Basil rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. If only it could be so easy for humans to follow their heart.
Hawthorne gave Basil a knowing look. ::You humans make winning a mate too complicated.:: He curled his slender tail possessively around Pepper. ::Fight for your mate. Defeat every competitor and win her against all odds.::
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CHAPTER 7
Turning her back on all her dreams, Ashlyn picked up her basket, with the crushed flowers coiled on top of the herbs. Keeping the plants and leaves fresh, she told herself, knowing the reason was far more than that.
Straightening her spine, she made herself walk serenely away from the garden and toward the side entrance into the house.
Each measured step took her farther away from Basil. She'd been so caught up in her emotions she'd forgotten to ask him how he'd gotten into the walled garden without raising an alarm. Had he shifted to dragon form and flown over the barrier?
Probably not, she mused. The guards patrolling the perimeter of the compound would've seen him.
She had to trust his ability to escape detection on his way out just the way he had coming in.
Lost in memories of her times with Basil, she passed the kitchen and turned into the cool, fragrant stillroom. With a flick of her fingers, she lit the bronze and clear-crystal lantern suspended from the ceiling on a brass chain, and placed the basket on her workbench.
She'd spent many pleasant hours in this traditional fitted-stone room with its small fireplace, drying racks, and shelves for storing soaps, candles, syrups and oils.
At the appropriate times—dawn, midday, or full night, she'd gathered and prepared the clusters of dried herbs hanging from the wooden beams.
A good stillroom was the mark of a good chatelaine.
Ashlyn sighed. Soon, she'd be using those skills for King Maldoc.
One good thing would come out of her dreaded marriage—Drusilla had increased the time she worked with Ashlyn learning all she could about herbs and oils and their many uses.
As if summoned by Ashlyn's thoughts, Drusilla hurried into the room carrying a light day robe over one arm and a brush and ornamented hair sticks in the other hand.
"Ashy, I just learned Father has summoned you.” She shook out the pale blue robe with a ribbon flower trim. “Your clothes are ripped and grass-stained. I brought this and the brush so you can be presentable when you go to him.” With a knowing smile, Druzy added, “You don't want to look like you've been rolling around in the herb garden."
"You're right.” Ashlyn gave her sister a quick hug, then drew on the robe and fastened it from her neck down to the hem.
A few strokes with the brush tamed her hair. She had just finished fashioning it into a shiny coil on top of her head when a quick swirl of air fanned her cheek and Nimbor hovered an arm's length from her face. His brown-and-green loose clothing rustled like leaves in the green forest where he'd lived before his bond contract with Galatyn Toscano.
He gave her a slight bow and said, “Greetings, First Daughter Ashlyn. Your father requires your immediate attendance in his workroom. A guard will escort you."
A guard? Why? Her heart skipped a beat.
While the pooka waited, Ashlyn laced the hair sticks in the coil to fasten it in place. “I'll come immediately,” she said, hiding her worry behind a serene expression.
The second shock was the identity of her escort. Instead of a regular guardsman, Kayne, Captain of the Guard waited. She saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes before he resumed his usual impassive expression.
Father's workroom, she thought as she followed Kayne through the house and along the outdoor roofed passageway to the tower building set apart from the main structures for safety and solitude. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd been in his workroom.
A chill snaked down her spine. Why did he want her in the place where he explored the limits of magic rather than in his study or his office—the family's usual gathering place for household matters?
Even the magically gifted pooka, hovering near her left shoulder, seemed unusually subdued.
The moment the household guard opened the heavy brassbound door into the tower, Ashlyn stumbled, disoriented by the thrum of power from the energy node deep in Planet Traber's rocky mantle.
Kayne caught her elbow and steadied her, muttering, “Tread carefully.” Then louder, he said, “High Mage Toscano has ordered me to wait for you here."
"Thank you for your escort, Captain,” she said with formal courtesy, then turned and walked into her father's presence.
At first appearance, his workroom was a more elaborate version of her stillroom, but with more equipment. A long table, the marble top scarred and pitted from many experiments, dominated one side of the room beneath a spread of windows. Instead of retorts and flasks, the only object on the table was small circular item bundled in red silk.
A metal globe of Traber sat in the corner made by two shelves filled with books and ancient rolls copied three hundred years earlier from information in the deteriorating computers of the first Old Earth colonists.
The ancient Toscano book of spells sat open on a nearby beautifully crafted bookstand.
Her father, settled in an armless padded chair, was studying one of the pages. To protect the priceless velum, he used a poin
ter of carved unicorn horn instead of his finger to sweep under each line as he read.
She waited just inside the doorway for him to acknowledge her. Of course he knew she was there. Other times he'd deliberately ignored her as a way to emphasize his authority.
Finally, he looked up and indicated to her to sit in chair placed parallel to the table.
Nimbor, still acting subdued, perched on the edge of the table close to her, with his legs dangling quietly.
Scowling, her father rose from his chair and prowled toward her, watching her with eyes full of scorn. “Nimbor told me you were rutting with a stranger in the garden a short time ago. Is there no end to your wicked behavior?"
"Father..."
He raised one hand as if to strike her, then lowered it. “Your foolish act could destroy all my plans to become Chief High Mage of the council."
"Plans? Zenos is still alive."
"The Goddess protect me from your ignorance,” he said bitterly. “He's an old man who wants to retire from his heavy responsibilities and spend time with his grandchildren. When he goes, King Maldoc will chose a new Chief High Mage from the remaining six members."
"You're hoping he'll choose you."
"Not just hope.” Her father gave her an arrogant smile. “My new title will be announced at the close of the Grass Moons ceremony, just before your wedding."
"How can you be so certain?"
"Do you truly think the king wanted you as his third wife? He'd already selected another woman, beautiful and both shapeshift- and magic-gifted, but I offered a better incentive—control of every decision made by the Circle of Seven."
"How can you be sure they'll always agree with him?” Ashlyn knew she was on dangerous ground asking the question that could prove her father was planning to manipulate and even break Avalonian law.
"That is my business.” Her father glared and fingered the silken bundle on the table. “Your part is to marry the king as planned."
Desperately, she tried to reason with him. “Evelina said the king believes you and Mother have an impeccable lineage. What if he learns that one of mother's ancestors was a lost dragon shifter and listed as tainted in the public records?"