This invention is incredible.

A picture frame, and a rather sizeable one at that, somehow captured entire places and people and put them inside to act for his personal pleasure.

When Alfred showed him how to press a button and activate the magic of the object Alfred called a telly-vision, Luc had jumped and punched, breaking the first one. But the castle he’d commandeered had others, and he’d learned to watch the screen rather than pulverize it.

Only one of the many things he’d learned. He’d discovered toilets for depositing waste—that…flushed. A cold box with food like pizza. He really liked pizza, and even knew how to make it himself. The oven that required no coal or kindling heated it to crispy perfection, and while he ate the gooey, savory slice, he watched the telly-vision. Watched wide-eyed in amazement, barely sleeping. He learned so much.

Discounted quite a bit, as well. He didn’t believe most of the plays he saw. Especially the size of the futuristic cities with their gleaming, tall buildings that stretched impossibly into the sky. The castle he lived in was made of stone, as expected, much like the ruin he’d exited into when he left his home world.

Impossibly tall and narrow spires of glass? A fantasy, surely.

Alfred tried to convince him that it was real, as were the milling people on the streets, and the thick lines of cars during something he’d called a traffic jam.

Luc saw no evidence of jam anywhere, just the noisy carriages. The steedless chariots ran because of something Alfred had called science. Using machines. And combustion. Fancy words for a different kind of magic.

In this world, away from the prison that quelled his power, he could feel some of the things his mother had tried to explain. The almost river-like sensation of magic running over him. He only had to raise a metaphysical hand to tap into it.

He trailed his fingers only along the very edges and shuddered at the potential there. But was it too much? He’d only ever had access to crumbs of power while in the cell. Barely enough to create a spark. Only just enough for his mother to teach him.

Now, there was too much, and he feared glutting himself on it. Magic could take a toll.

You’re scared to use it.

He ignored the voice. It sounded like his mother. But she was dead.

I taught you how to harness it.

Small puddles, not torrential rivers with strong currents.

We came from this world. We were made to handle it.

Perhaps the ability to control weakened over time from disuse. Perhaps the magic, with no one using it, got wildly out of control.

He left the magic alone but constantly remained aware of it. A good thing because something disturbed it. There was a shiver in the magical river, and an easing of its current.

Luc noticed it immediately and straightened. He sat in the parlor, watching a woman extoll on the features of a silver chain and dangling pendant. Luc wondered why anyone would want something they were selling ten thousand copies of. He watched them flying off the shelf, the inventory number decreasing. Fools, paying to be one of the flock.

He’d rather be unique.

He also wanted to be left alone. Which, apparently, wasn’t happening. He heard voices coming from the kitchen. Which was odd, considering he’d gotten rid of all his other prisoners. The only one he’d kept was Alfred.

Well, Alfred and some cleaners. The old fellow claimed scrubbing floors and doing dishes was beneath him. But the crew Alfred hired had left for the day, so why did he hear a feminine voice?

He crept down the hall, silent in his bare feet, listening for clues.

“This is a cool castle, Alfred. Is it just you and your master living here?”

“I am not at liberty to divulge my master’s business.” The words emerged stiffly.

The reply to it was soft and lilting. “Oh, I get it. Still in the closet about your relationship. Totally cool. But just so you know, I am down with it. No judgment from me.”

“I think you misunderstand, miss.”

“You don’t have to explain, Alfie. Where is your freezer for the ice cream?”

The rustle of bags, thumping of cupboard doors, and the distinct hiss of the seal being broken on the cooling unit filled the next few minutes.

Luc crept closer. The feminine voice was quite fascinating and, at the same time, irritating with its cheerfulness.

What reason does she have to be so happy?

He peered around the edge of the doorway into the kitchen and saw nothing but Alfred, perched on a stool, looking bemused. His manservant caught sight of him, and Luc mouthed, “What’s going on?”

The old man shrugged before saying aloud, “Do you always help random strangers?”

A voice echoed from the freezer. “My mother says helping those weaker than me is a waste of time, but I like providing aid to people. It makes me feel good.”

Altruism to feel good? Luc’s lip curled.

“A young lady like yourself should be more careful about offering her services. You might find yourself caught in a bad situation.”

Rich laughter boomed, and it made Luc shudder. When was the last time he’d had a reason to indulge in mirth?

“Oh, Alfie. You flirt. I might look dainty, but I assure you, I’m tougher than I look.”

The voice grew in volume as the unknown woman neared the door to the cooling unit. Luc popped back before she could see him.

He’d gotten enough of the gist of the situation to realize that a stranger had offered Alfred some aid.

But why? Surely, she lied about her charitable tendencies. More likely, she was a spy sent by his enemies to ferret out his intentions. Yet, he’d have sworn no one suspected his presence. An erroneous assumption. Perhaps, at this very moment, his enemies reconnoitered and gathered for an attack.

Let them try. He’d fight and refuse to surrender to his very last breath.

“All done, Alfie. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, you’ve done more than enough.”

“It was so nice meeting you.”

“Ack.”

Luc’s eyes widened as he heard the pop of bones cracking. The female dared to kill his servant?

He popped his head around the corner to look, only to squeak—in a manner much like the rodents he’d hunted in his old cell—when a pair of vivid green eyes met his.

A bright voice chirped, “Hi, you must be Alfred’s master. You’re younger than I expected.”

“You are trespassing,” he managed to mutter in reply, which was more than he’d thought possible given the way she’d startled him.

It didn’t help that her very appearance stunned him. Her hair gleamed the golden yellow of a brilliant sun and hung in short, bouncy curls. Her skin appeared slightly tanned as if kissed by the sun’s rays. Freckles scattered across her straight nose. Her lips, full and red, juicy and plump, curved into a smile. Eyes the vivid green of the grass outside shone as she stared at him inquisitively.

It wasn’t only her face that stunned. She stood a handspan shorter than him. A novelty, given all the females he’d encountered thus far in this dimension tended toward the shorter stature. She was broad of shoulder and muscled. Strong. Not some weak-fleshed female, and she was definitely all woman.

He couldn’t help but notice her generous, hourglass shape. Her hips were full, her waist indented; the skirt she wore belling and falling demurely to her knees. As for her breasts, they were indecently embraced by the form-fitting top of her gown, the round collar displaying her slender neck from the shoulders up.

Given her rather inappropriate attire—a woman showing her calves and her neck—his cock stirred, aroused by this…this…gorgeous female. It raised his ire.

“Get out.” He practically growled the command.

Her eyes widened with clear chagrin. “Oh, dear. I’ve made you jealous. I’m so sorry. Let me assure you that Alfred was nothing but a gentleman with me. Nothing inappropriate happened, so there is no reason for you to be angry with him. He’s still one hundred percent yours.”

Her words made no sense, but her smell… He inhaled again and sifted past the honeyed fragrance surrounding her to the baser one underneath. He knew that smell.

“You’re a dragon,” he snarled. The enemy in his home. Confronting him. He drew taller and expanded his chest.

“My, what a good sense of smell you have. I am a dragon.” She clapped her hands, her smile bright. “Can you guess what color? I’ll give you a hint. It’s rare. So rare, my daddy accused my mother of cheating on him. But it turns out, after the paternity test was done, that there have been others like me that’ve popped up from time to time in his line.”

Her babbling was obviously meant to confuse him. However, he didn’t let himself forget the fact that she’d tracked him down.

He squinted at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping Alfred with the groceries.”

“You’re spying on me!” he declared. “Have you come to finish the annihilation of my race?”

“Race? I didn’t know we were competing. I’m not really wearing the right footwear for it.” She peered down at her shoes, green with large buckles, the toes peeking—the tips of them a shade of pink that would look better around his ears. Not a position he’d indulged in yet in this world; however, he’d seen it in a play on the telly-vision that went into graphic sexual detail. Alfred called it porn. He called it enlightening.

She slid off her shoe and wiggled her foot. “Can we race barefoot to make it even?” She sought to obscure the issue. Obviously, a special talent of hers.

“No matter your plan, I will fight it. I won’t be captured and imprisoned again.”

“Poor thing.” She reached out and patted his cheek, creating an electrical shock that caused him to recoil. “Did someone cage you? Are you another of Parker’s victims? He put my second cousin Tomas in a cell. Mother says that didn’t end well for those who did it.”

“What do you know of those incarcerated?”

“Not much. Everyone is always trying to protect me from the ugly things in the world.” She leaned forward to whisper. “They think I’m fragile.”

Her, fragile? “They are obviously blind.”

“And you’re cute, which is probably one of the reasons you were put in a cage.” She patted his cheek again, and he turned his head, snapping his teeth, but missed her flesh. “You also smell really good. Like a hot cinnamon stick. Yummy. I just want to lick you all over.” Her eyes widened as she admitted her dark desire, and her cheeks turned a rosy shade.

He didn’t let her escape the truth. “You admit to feasting on my kind?” What a stroke of chance finding one of Voadicia’s minions.

“Eat you?” She eyed him up and down, her gaze lingering on a spot below his waist that only served to make his cock swell larger. “While you are ridiculously tempting, I would never think to come between you and Alfred. Although I might be talked into a threesome.” She winked before whirling and flouncing back into the kitchen proper.

Meanwhile, he tried to process her statement. A threesome as in him, her, and…Alfred? The thought of getting into bed with the old fellow shriveled his cock, allowing the blood in his body to pump to his other extremities and organs, such as the starving brain in his head. He snapped out of his surprise enough to notice the woman with her hand on the back door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he boomed.

“I am returning to my hotel before my chocolate milk goes bad. It was nice meeting you both. I hope you have many happy years together. Toodles.” She waggled her fingers before exiting.

For a moment, he stared at the door, stunned. A dragon, here in his home. An attractive one. A woman who had seen him and was leaving! Probably to report his presence.

Taking long strides, Luc hurried after her, making it to the kitchen door and flinging it open in time to see her changing shape, a brilliant yellow dragon—not gold, or any other shade, but yellow—taking to the sky with a grocery sack in her clawed hand. She uttered a trilling noise that could only be an ominous warning.

Luc whirled on Alfred. “Who is she? Where did you find her?”

“She claims her name is Elspeth. Elsie for short. She was at the same market as me and insisted on providing aid given my advanced years.”

“She called you weak?”

“Not exactly, sir. In this time, it is considered respectful to aid those more senior with chores.”

“Treat them as invalids more like. Are you an invalid, Alfred?”

“No, sir.”

“Good, because in my world, when the weak could no longer care for themselves, they volunteered their lives to the suzerain to spare those with more able bodies.”

“I’ve still got plenty of strength left to serve, sir.”

“Good, because I have need of you, Alfred.”

The old man straightened. “What does my master require? I replenished the freezer with ice cream as requested.”

“Really?” For a moment, Luc forgot the yellow dragoness in favor of recollecting how the cold treat melted in his mouth, creating a groaningly pleasant experience that he couldn’t get enough of.

“Would you like a bowl, sir?”

Yes. But duty came first. Luc shook his head. “No. We must prepare, Alfred.”

“Prepare for what, sir?”

“Guests. Uninvited ones. It won’t be long before that female returns with her companions. We must ready for attack. Arm the defenses,” he barked. “Load the catapults. Boil the cauldrons of oil. Ready the archers.”

“Er, sir, we have no weaponry.”

Startled, Luc paused in his pacing. “What do you mean, we have no weapons? What kind of castle is this? How am I supposed to defend against my enemies?”

“Perhaps you are mistaken. I don’t think the girl meant you any harm.”

“Shows how little you know about dragons.” They were evil creatures. Who cared what the stories on his moving picture box claimed? Train them, indeed.

Not the dragons he knew. They came to his world, centuries before his birth. Pretended friendship. Then stole his people’s secrets and perverted them.

When the dragons could no longer hide their actions, they imprisoned Luc’s people. To which, Luc always asked, “Why didn’t you fight?”

And his father’s reply? “We were banished to that realm for our violent natures. We overcame our primal impulses to build a society. To fight would have been to turn our backs on that achievement.”

“But you became slaves.”

“Better slaves than a return to the monsters we once were.”

A logic that had led to the extinction of Luc’s people.

I am the only one left, and I don’t care what my father or his ancestors thought. I won’t allow myself to be a victim. Not anymore.

Despite the lack of crossbows, the castle did have one ancient sword hanging on the wall in the great room.

Taking to the ramparts, Luc sharpened the old, pitted blade and watched the sky. He remained sentinel—with a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies Alfred had brought—as night turned back into day.

The dawning blue sky showed not a speck marring it.

Nothing appeared by air or by land, not even a stunningly beautiful dragoness with a smile and speech meant to confuse. With a scent that aroused, rather than repelled. Probably part of a spell to muddle his senses.

A potent hex since he couldn’t forget her.

Someone cleared their throat. “Ahem. Would the master like me to draw him a warm bath? Your bones are probably chilled from spending the night outdoors.”

A bath did sound pleasant. Perhaps it would ease his disappointment, which he felt surely as a result of a battle not ensuing—and not because his balls ached.

However, the steamy basin of water did nothing to ease the tension in his groin. He shagged himself, spending his seed and achieving a measure of relief that lasted but a moment. He only had to close his eyes and picture a dancing green gaze to harden again.

How utterly irritating, and evidence of one crucial thing.

I need a female.

A real female—preferably with blonde hair—and not his hand to sate his needs.

“Alfred?” he bellowed, and his manservant, towel in hand, immediately answered.

“Yes, sir.”

“I wish to purchase the services of a courtesan.”

“Not too many of those around here, sir, but given you’re a handsome fellow, might I suggest a local tavern where the women are often receptive to masculine attention if you buy them a few drinks.”

“A tavern?” He’d never been to one but had heard stories of them and seen hints of what Alfred spoke of on the moving picture box. He’d also never drunk alcohol. Their prison didn’t provide more than the basics for sustenance—barely.

“Yes, a tavern. There’s a place not too far from the castle. Perhaps you’ll have luck finding a woman there.”

Luc rose from the tub, water streaming from his limbs. “That is a fine idea, Alfred. I shall go at once.”

“Perhaps you might want to rest first. The taverns don’t begin truly having patrons of the kind you’re seeking until after the dinner hour.”

Rest after a night spent awake and watching did sound good. “Very well. Keep watch upon the ramparts whilst I sleep, Alfred. Sound the alarm if the enemy approaches.”

No one appeared to disturb his rest, which meant that he slept the day away. Only as dusk fell did Luc find himself at the door to a tavern, dressed in a strange material Alfred called denim and a soft shirt that hugged his chest rather intimately. He lacked any kind of protective gear.

Alfred wouldn’t let him wear any armor, even though the metal suit he’d found in the upper gallery fit him, if tightly. His servant also gave him a few tips on dealing with women of this world. The old man ticked them off one by one on his fingers before dropping him off.

“Remember to compliment them. Offer to buy them a drink. Ask them if they are on birth control.”

“Humans can’t easily sire children with my kind.” Or so he was taught.

“You might also want to refrain from referring to them as humans,” Alfred advised before Luc stepped out of the metal carriage with the noisy steeds under the hood.

“Peasants?”

“No.”

Luc sighed. “This lack of respect for their betters is tiring.”

“You aren’t ruling the world yet, sir. I would suggest being covert until you do.”

“You are wise for a human, Alfred.”

“Thank you, sir. Here, take this.” Alfred handed over the bits of paper he’d claimed would act as wealth. A flimsy wealth that would never survive a fire like pure metal could.

He stuffed the paper into his pocket and entered the tavern with its raucous noise. Luc gaped at the bawdy place.

Gloomy, only a few dim lights illuminated the tavern with its high tables and stools. Music, with a hard thump that vibrated his bones, filled the room. The volume of it kept him from hearing the many conversations taking place because the tavern found itself overly occupied.

By courtesans! They were everywhere, wearing short and tight garments that exposed most of their legs. They wore brilliant face paint. Some had even grown out their claws—which he’d never known the human females could do—and colored them.

The males, of all types, young and old, were dressed much like he was, and most of them conducted business with the courtesans.

I’ve come to the right place.

Now to pick out a female to satisfy his carnal needs.

A few steps in, his cock went ramrod hard, and he exclaimed, “You!”