Chapter Five
Finally back in Gerran's abode, Esmer sighed. One hot bath later, and a change of clothes, she surveyed her surroundings, immensely grateful for the chance to be here. To be a part of such a crazy, colorful world, full up with magic, witches, powerful artifacts and a rather generous dragon prince who happened to shift into an incredibly hot human form.
She missed wielding the enchantments, though the Sword of the Mountain lay at the side of her bedchambers, waiting for her decision on what to do with it. She didn't know whether she wanted to return it to her kingdom or not, though she suspected that if she did, the Questers would miraculously stop. On the other hand, if her father got wind of the Sword of the Mountain being in her possession, the Questings might worsen. They might get serious contenders with expensive and deadly Quest items to make things a whole lot harder for the dragons of High Roost to handle.
I'll think on it later. She closed her eyes, shivers going down her back when Gerran entered the room, his chest fully exposed, displaying a hairless, muscular mass that captured her attention, just as much as his face did.
A part of her felt anxious, because her growing attraction to the prince compounded itself by the fact that Esmer's experience with sex involved largely the realms of imagination and what her right hand was capable of doing down there.
Still, she had enough of an idea to get things started. If I want to. If I dare do the single worst thing a princess could do.
At that thought, an impish smile hit her lips. Just the idea of pissing off her parents was enough for her to open her eyes, reach for Gerran's hand, and drag him onto the sofa with her.
“You've been making my life very interesting,” Esmer murmured, now placing her lips near his ears, letting her voice dip low and soft. “I feel like I should reward you for everything you've done.”
“Do you, now?” Gerran's hand slid along her nightgown, fingers digging into the flimsy material. His eyes glinted in a mix of lust and fascination, and his nose pressed into her neck, sniffing, before his tongue unfurled and touched the soft flesh there. The heat seared through her skin, wrapping around her organs and making the bees in her stomach frantic.
Everything about this life appealed to her. Dragons shifting into humans came as a nice bonus to an already improved situation, though she still caught some stark similarities between the humans and the dragons. Both like protocol, tradition and rules. Both found someone like her odd, and the others who appreciated her were a little odd themselves. Like Gerran. Like Hattie, who had taught her to turn ordinary tea into mint flavored specialities. A taste of the things to come.
Speaking of coming... she grinned and kissed Gerran upon his cheeks, arms tight around the small of his back, as he draped his just under her nightshirt, touching the smooth skin there.
“Knew you'd be so soft,” he murmured, his warmth radiating out. “I imagined in my mind what you'd feel like. I imagined combing away your red hair...” one hand lifted to thread fingers through her tresses, running through without resistance, “What your lips might taste like –” his lips pressed onto Esmers, pliable and craving the contact, his mouth parting hers to allow a tongue to slip through. “And the sounds you might make when I'm inside you.”
The arousal intensified inside Esmer, soaring to new heights, and she whimpered as the same fantasy burned through her, anticipating what he might feel like within her, if he'd be strong or hard, if he could make her climax like she did with her hands, or treat her like the way she saw people endure in the books.
They continued kissing one another, open mouthed kisses with a hint of what was to come, and he worked at getting her naked during the process, caressing her body, enjoying it as she jumped and wriggled underneath him, and rubbed against his growing erection. With her breasts exposed, he peppered them with wet kisses, paying attention to each one of her nipples, which stirred surprise and longing in her heart. Her head banged against the sofa armrest as he took off the last item of clothing, leaving her naked in his home. He groaned when he saw how wet she was down there, and she rubbed against his thigh, making it damp.
She desperately wanted to know what his hardness would feel like within her, and worked at his pants, tugging them off so that his erection showed itself to her, full blooded and ready for action. Her hands grasped it, stroking the length gently, and Gerran closed his storm blue eyes for a moment, sighing in pleasure, and making Esmer elicit a similar noise.
His hips rocked slightly, moving his length in her hand, before he reached down to her core, and pressed his fingers against her bundle of nerves.
Esmer let out a delighted scream, her body instantly shuddering from the delicious touch, her thighs tensing up as he flooded her with emotion, from head to toe. Her whole body reacted, building up pressure as if ready to explode, and when he finally slid inside her, his enormous, smooth length parting the folds down there and burying into her, she cried out, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. He started off slow, letting her adjust to his size, because compared to him she was quite small in body, before he glided within her, picking up the pace when he heard her moans of pleasure, her please and whimpers for more.
Everything inside Esmer burned and crackled, a tantalizing mix of fire and electricity, of heat thawing out whatever ice that encased her, leaving her pink, raw and sensitive, his every motion sending ripples over her skin, and the little hairs on her arms. The leather sofa underneath them creaked with their activity, and molded around their shape to make the experience ever more powerful.
This was better than the things Esmer went through in her mind. Once she let go of the inhibitions that a lifetime of princessy rearing had given her, from the proper way to behave, to the unforgivable attitudes a woman committed to make themselves more like serfs and peasants, she found herself revelling in the moment. Drunk on it.
The limitations were just that. Ways to stop her living her life to the full. Ways to control her so she couldn't live with complete freedom, always afraid of what others might think of her, and what being a princess truly meant.
She also managed to fulfil her fairy Godmother's blessing, though not quite in the way anyone had expected. She seriously needed to find a way to contact the Godmother at some point, maybe send her some nice gifts.
For now, though, only one thing mattered, and that was the prince above her, with his hooded eyes, those mesmerizing blue irises, his strong, solid body that he seemed in full control of, and the confidence he exhibited with every breath and every shift of his muscles. Someone who desired her, and appreciated her for who she was. Hard to not feel overwhelmed by that knowledge.
Her heart danced with his, and she quickly went to stroke herself on the bundle of nerves, feeling herself shudder and climax, the wave undulating through her, and her core convulsing around his length, making him gasp and snap his eyes open. Not so long after that, he came as well, his arm muscles bunching around her, and she clawed into his bare back, still shivering from the pleasure.
It took them a few moments to calm down, to lose the faint blush of their cheeks, which still burned from the excitement, and for Gerran to sit as comfortably as possible beside her on the leather sofa, which now held the distinctive indent of Esmer's body.
Breathless, Esmer managed to say, “Well, who would have thought being a dragon's princess came with so many perks?”
Gerran, rubbing his face against his arm to rid of some of the sweat from his strenuous activity, chuckles, his chest rumbling from the sound. “I could say the same for having a princess. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you in their lives.”
Esmer's cheeks reddened from the compliment, and she let out a sigh. “It's just a shame in a way I needed to be abducted to find out where I really belong.”
“Excuse me. You stood on the battlements, screaming for me to take you. Waving that statue thing. It's not really an abduction if you wanted to go.”
“Technicalities,” Esmer said, grinning, before burrowing into Gerran's neck, and breathing in his strong, musky scent.
There was a short pause, before Gerran whispered, “I hope you'll stay for longer. There's so much more I can show you. Though it won't be easy. We'll have to deal with Questers a lot. But I'll fight every single one.”
“It's okay,” Esmer said, smiling. “I have a way to stop them.” She indicated the Sword of the Mountain. “My father would sell out his entire family and probably half his kingdom, just to get that thing back.”
“Would he, now...” Gerran said, eyes glinting in calculation.
“No. You already have a kingdom. Why do you want half of a human one, too?”
“It's not my kingdom yet. And I'm second in line to the throne. I might never get it in my lifetime. Always need to entertain other options, you know?” Gerran rested his chin on the top of her head, absently stroking her hair.
“No,” Esmer said, a hint of steel in her voice. As much as she thought her family could do with some ass kicking, having half their kingdom taken over by dragons wasn't the way to go about it.
“But you'll think about it?” Gerran hugged her tighter. “What if I said I loved you? Would that change anything?”
Esmer's heart fluttered, but she kept her voice under control. “Maybe. If you say it enough and prove it enough.”
“Hmm,” he said, imitating Hattie's gruff exclamation. Esmer giggled, and Gerran chuckled as well, comfortable to lie there together with her.
They both retired to bed shortly afterwards, with Esmer's mind active, churning past the pleasant, floaty things inside to consider where her life would lead next. She could contact that princess, Marea. Forge a connection with all the other dragons and their accompanying princesses, and learn to create enchantments so powerful, that people would give her anything she wanted.
Except, well, she already had everything she wanted. She wanted to go on more adventures with Gerran, maybe fight some monsters, lift curses and live her life with the passion it previously lacked. She wanted to strengthen the bond between them so intensely, that they'd never need anyone else again. She wanted Gerran to rely on her as much as she relied on him.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face, Gerran's arms wrapped around her, dreaming of the future that awaited.
The End
Erlandur’s Rescue
Guardians of Lunar Wasteland
(Book 4)
Chapter One
Faith came from the central plains, in the region known as Ghost Lake. Thermal springs that bubbled under the surface of their home made sure that the lakes stayed unfrozen, and life thrived in the strange oasis of her home.
Or, as much as it did thrive, from the Shadows that picked them off from the fringes, and the constant howling elements of their world. Ghost Lake, second to the Fractured Spine, was a region that suffered the most from Shadow activity. Possibly because of the thermal springs counteracting the Shadow’s weakness. Possibly because their witches today were living descendants of the thousand that sacrificed their lives so long ago.
And now, well – Faith was a long way from home. She scratched at her short dark hair, before idly playing with one of her twin blades, watching the sparring matches going on between the different wolf clans and some of the witches, eager to test their magic out. Raine, that peculiar enchanter, with a small wave of volunteers, was fitting armor onto a werewolf who had chosen to permanently take on their animal form for the war. Yarrow, the Shadow witch, stared into the cloud covered sky with a dull, unimpressed look upon her face, her blackened veins in clear display.
“Gloomy, isn’t she?” Geraline sat down beside her fellow witch, offering a slice of bread for Faith to chew. Faith accepted and munched through it, still roving around the fort city, taking in the commotion and activity of the Spine wolves.
“She has a right to be,” Faith replied. “The Dreadwood have a hatred deeper than the rest of us combined for the Shadows. Now she has to learn to use their power.”
“It’s an advantage, though.” Geraline frowned, wrinkling her button nose.
“Is it? Seems pretty miserable to me.” Faith snatched her attention away from the brooding witch, staring instead at the sparrers. How she longed to go down there and spar as well – to feel her body react to the magic coursing through her blood, and to beat anyone who dared face her. Except, well, no one could provide even the slightest hint of a challenge to her. She’d lost most of the excitement of battle a long time ago. When you sensed and predicted your opponent’s moves before they executed them, it always felt to her that everyone else fought in slow motion, drunk and useless.
“Come on. You know you want to. Why not try with that Alyssa? She’s pretty skilled.”
“There’s no point,” Faith said. “Anyone I go against, I win. I have nothing to prove. And they don’t need to be humiliated.”
“You need a challenge. Why not challenge all of them?”
Faith snorted. It wasn’t a bad idea, honestly, because even with her predictive talent, too many elements in the battle made it hard to keep track. Predictive talent then intuited to her to find a better place to make her stand.
“What, and humiliate them?”
“Yes. And you get a chance to get up close and heavy with Erlandur Malgrave. You don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at him?”
“That’s because he has those undead wolves.” Faith kept her blush under control. She didn’t follow Malgrave. No way.
“Whatever. You can’t fool me. So. You gonna take them on or you gonna sit here looking forlorn and bored out of your skull?”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Suppose I can’t sit around forever. Wish me luck.”
Geraline grinned wickedly. “This is gonna be good.”
Faith got up, and sauntered down to the sparring grounds. Not everyone knew who she was, and some heads turned to examine as she strode around the sparrers, looking for an opponent. Alyssa Malgrave stood wheezing and heaving, having just finished a spar with her brother, Erlandur. The southerners regarded her quietly, as a few flakes of snow tumbled around them. Their breaths hissed in the air, condensing and dispersing.
“You’re looking to fight?” Alyssa asked, wiping some of the sweat off her brow.
Faith shrugged, nonchalant. A challenge. She desired a challenge, one to set her heart pumping. But what glory was there in a fight when no one matched up to you? “Yes. I’m looking to fight several opponents at once. One is too easy.”
Erlandur raised one blonde eyebrow. Without his intimidating helmet, his fine, soft features contrasted strangely with the light southerner colors. He had a little tan to his skin, and dark blue eyes that sometimes seemed full of life, and other times as empty and remorseless as the Lunar Wastes they contemplated. “I’ve always wondered about combat witches. Your magic works differently, right?”
Yes. She never had to cast, or think, or feel. The magic permanently entangled itself into her, directing her every movement, causing her to react sometimes before she even knew herself where the threat was coming from.
A gift from your grandmother, Grace Corven. She carried the blood. And she answered the call when the legion attacked. She died bravely. She would have killed them all, if her magic hadn’t run out.
Her father’s words still rang through her head. She thought about him now, content at home with her human mother, tending to the fisheries of Ghost Lake. She never wanted that life. She wanted to die like her grandmother, deep in the teeth of the enemy.
But it did make for a lonely life.
“I challenge everyone who wants to test their skills against me,” Faith announced. “If anyone can strike one blow against my body, I’ll give them the Tear of the Warrior.” She held up her necklace, a last memento of her grandmother. “This belonged to the greatest combat witch who ever lived. It grants extra reserves of magic, and is quite valuable.”
One werewolf scoffed. “You want to challenge us all for that pretty trinket?”
“At the same time,” Faith smiled sweetly.
This caused a commotion, a stir. Some people acted downright offended of being challenged, and spoke up of her unfair terms upon herself.
“No. I’m making the terms fairer for the rest of you.”
Erlandur chuckled by the side-lines. He tossed two sticks to Faith, who seized them with unerring accuracy, and ten warriors chose to take up the challenge.
Alyssa and Erlandur included. Eight men with the strength of werewolves coursing through their cells. Faith couldn’t help but notice that all the Ghost Lake wolves had politely declined her challenge, and instead watched from the sidelines with knowing, smug grins.
Faith strolled to face her ten opponents – two with quarterstaffs, the rest with conventional swords and shields. Her challenge by now had drawn quite a crowd, who jostled to create an arena for her match. Faith clutched her weapons, closed her eyes, and felt the familiar pulse of her magic call to her.
“Any time,” she said, still keeping her eyes closed.
There was a moment’s hesitation. Then, she heard the flutter of footpads on the ground, the rushing determination to take her up on the spar.
She appreciated none of them hesitated, or held back. Perhaps they sensed her supreme confidence, the little taste of arrogance as she regarded them like mere infants, unworthy of her time.
The power runs through me. It whispered to her as the first stick came whooshing at her side. She moved just enough to feel the air disturbance as it chopped down, then made one in step, slashing upwards, knowing, through her eyes being closed, that her opponent wouldn’t have time to react, given the air pressure, the electromagnetic field around their body and the space they occupied. Two smacks later, her opponent collapsed on the cobbled floor.
She stepped on them and leapt then, now opening her eyes, just avoiding two side swiped, twisting and spinning in the air, lashing out with one foot, landing on the chest of a runner after knocking his stick out the way.
One, two, three. They all fall down. Her blood pumped, her heart sang, and she pivoted, facing her next two opponents. She noticed the other five now attempting to circle her, to use their sheer numbers to overwhelm. Three steps forward. Dodge the thrust here, duck the swipe there – she straightened and snapped out her hands, before striking her opponent in what she perceived as his weak spot. The magic burned in her mind, heightened her senses beyond mortal comprehension.
She saw the world before her, perfectly mapped out, anticipating each action and reaction with her powers. She felt invincible, unstoppable, and roared in ferocity as two men sprang for her at once. She moved just right, knocked one out with a timed blow to the back of their skull, and in six moves, disarmed her next opponent. All of them were faceless, unskilled entities to her, just people to beat, to dodge, to disarm. In her moon blessed perception, the remaining four boxed her in. The first werewolf she took down lay feebly on the ground, groaning as his head rang from the impossibly accurate blows.
Every move you do, I’ll see it and block it before you even realize you’re doing it.
She filtered out the gasps of astonishment and amazement from the sidelines, and sprinted towards one of the four boxing her in, before they got too close. The magic coursed through her muscles, and her legs burned from the effort. She exchanged four swipes of her sticks before ducking and sliding diagonally to avoid a blow to her back, then backflipping to avoid Alyssa’s opportunistic thrust, landing on an opponent’s shoulder. She sprang and twisted mid air, roaring in triumph, delivering a series of blows to the man in front of her springboard. He crumpled, eyes bulging in shock and surprise, and she spun to fend Alyssa’s blow.
She advanced upon Alyssa, but Erlandur assaulted her from the side – Faith blocked four ferocious blows from him, then tripped Alyssa when she swiped herself off balance from an attack. The third opponent, Linther – three successive attacks on him sent him groaning to the ground, clutching his ribs.
She stood then, calmly facing Erlandur and Alyssa.
“Um,” Alyssa said, exchanging a glance with her brother, green eyes to blue. “How do you beat a combat witch, actually?”
Erlandur smiled, and gestured to his sister to encircle Faith, who didn’t stand around to wait for it.
Attack him! She launched herself at Erlandur, but Erlandur stepped backwards – Faith immediately divined his tactic, and spun instead on Alyssa, who fended one blow from her, then squeaked and made a forward roll away from Faith, but Faith didn’t give her a chance to recover. She attacked Alyssa, who deflected five blows, before Faith then turned upon Erlandur, then ignored him, taking the opportunity to incapacitate Alyssa.
“Drat,” Erlandur muttered.
Faith briefly appreciated Alyssa’s futile attempts to stop her, before she disarmed the woman, smiling as her luminous green eyes gaped.
Erlandur stood still for a moment, regarding the combat witch with his dark blue eyes, before smirking.
A chill went up Faith’s spine. One second later, she ducked under the lunge of one of Erlandur’s undead wolves, and side rolled out of the advance of another.
Her muscles were now getting tired, but her magic still flared strong – Erlandur advanced, his wolves flanking her.
Avoid the throat pounce here, snap under the attack there – straight onto Erlandur. She sensed she had about forty seconds to end the fight before her magic reserves dipped low, and she’d need to tap into the Tear.
Attack!
One slash, one uppercut, she had disarmed him.
The undead wolves stopped their movement, standing in eerie stillness as Erlandur chuckled.
“Not so bad, witch.”
Faith stared into his eyes for a moment, breathing fast. “Bringing in the wolves was dangerous.”
“I have a feeling bringing in the wolves posed no danger to you at all,” Erlandur responded softly, as the watching audience broke into cheers and murmurs.
“Combat witches,” Alyssa grunted, picking up her stick, “are insane. You were – you were like some unworldly being. Like you knew everything we were going to do. I’m so jealous!”
“Why?” Faith responded, smiling at the blonde as she scowled.
“Because I’ve trained for years to be good at fighting, and you can just use your magic and it’s like that training doesn’t even matter. It’s frustrating.”
Faith nodded, understanding the human’s sentiment. A lot of people expressed that with her. The idea of an unbeatable opponent, no matter how hard they practised, didn’t sit well in their hearts. In their position, Faith would feel exactly the same.
It was how she felt with the Shadows. No matter how many she vanquished, they never stopped coming. They never stopped killing. “It’s not as powerful as people think it is. The more opponents I face, the faster my magic drains. When I run out of magic, I’m reduced then to your ability. Though still formidable, I can no longer be as flawless in my actions.”
Alyssa bit her lip, considering Faith’s words. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
Faith smiled.
Erlandur held out a hand for her to shake. “I have a preposition for you, if you’d like to hear it.”
She shook his hand, partially surprised at how warm he felt. Her mind reflected on Geraline’s observation. Did she really stare at him that much? That noticeably? “Alright. Shoot me with it.”
Erlandur pointed to the slice of mountain by ridged plateaus, visible from their vantage spot in the Spine encampment. “We’re planning to send a scouting mission to determine the best way to get into the city, and to see how Shadow activity is faring. I’d like you to come. Your magic will not deflect like it did on Yarrow, if a Supreme ambushes us. I’m not going to dismiss that kind of power.”
Their eyes locked for a long time. A ripple of electricity passed through their clasped hands, and Faith found her mind wandering to other places, quieter places where nothing but candlelight lit their features, as bodies intertwined with one another.
She shook her head of the notion, and forced out a smile. “You’re right not to do so. I promise you I’ll be an asset to our team.”
“I’m sure,” he replied, his voice taking on a strange, seductive slant. Alyssa huffed in disgust.
“No, brother.”
“No, what?”
“I see what you’re doing. And I’m saying no.”
Now Faith and Erlandur examined his little sister. They also finally let go of one another’s palms.
“I’ll see you later?” Erlandur said then, glancing over to the Ghost Lake wolves. “Unless you have anything big planned with your clan.”
“No. Nothing at all. They can wait.”
The smile they delivered to one another then made Alyssa exclaim in annoyance, before stalking off.
“She’ll get over it,” Faith supplied.
Erlandur twisted his mouth doubtfully. “I don’t know. She can be stubborn about these things.”
He winked at her then, before striding off, to engage in deep conversation with the Spine leader, Targun.
Faith absently chewed her lip as she watched him go.
Hmm. Maybe I do stare too much.