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
Captured by Kerric
Dragons Take a Princess
(Book 3)
Chapter One
Despite the curse given to Ruelle by an evil fairy Godmother, she tried looking on the bright side of things. She came from a central kingdom – that could be considered lucky. Where border kingdoms were ravaged by dragon raids weekly and attacked by either monsters in the Wilderness, or Dark Clan humans seeking a bit of profit – central kingdoms remained secure. She supposed it made sense, given that the dragons had dozens of other pretty kingdoms to munch their way through, way out of reach of Ruelle’s home. It did mean though that life in a central kingdom tended to be dull at times.
Unfortunately, Ruelle’s evil fairy Godmother inflicted a gloomy curse that she would be taken by darkness on her eighteenth birthday, and never find her way back home again.
A pretty nasty curse, to say the least, so her parents went slightly fanatical in the preparation of their daughter. They forced Ruelle to learn how to fight physically. They gave her the best education royalty had to offer, though she couldn’t get the hang of magic for the life of her. Whilst her sisters did normal princess things and married normal princes, Ruelle was forced to do things she didn't want to do. (She did get over it somewhat.)
King Ure and Queen Isabel cared for her, of course. She never suspected otherwise from her parents.
Her mother had said once, “The exceptional nature of the curse led us to believe you would need to fend for yourself once the darkness takes you. We don't know where the darkness will come from, but we can at least do everything in our power to make sure you're prepared.”
“Why not just get the curse reversed?”
“Oh, we couldn't possibly do that,” Isabel said, apparently shocked at the suggestion. “You can't reverse curses and blessings. It just isn't done.”
Ruelle failed to see the logic in this. Although being blessed with forever shiny teeth and gleaming flaxen hair probably was a nice blessing, curses ranged from falling into deep sleeps and turning into frogs – depending on the fashion trend the evil fairy Godmothers happened to be following at the time. A decade ago, it became the rage to curse people to “feel the weight of their lies”, so when they lied, they grew fat. The prince of Val Kingdom now weighed something close to four hundred pounds – and no one had yet chosen to marry him.
Still, despite everything, she enjoyed the power that came into her veins. The ability to fend off someone with a sword and shield, she knew how to do. She knew how to do flips and to stretch her body to the limits. The only thing she never learned was magic. Her despairing master tried to teach her water magic, but to no avail.
“You must be like the water in your thoughts! Or you will be little more use than a wet rag.”
He tried. She just didn’t have it in her blood.
A tapping noise jolted Ruelle out her reverie. She scowled at the pixie giving her a smug grin, his little wings flapping as he bashed her wooden cage again with a stick. He resembled the size of a small bird, his tiny eyes lit up with malice.
“Don't you be sleeping, little girl! Got a big day for you, today!” He giggled maniacally when she spat at him. “Oh, not very ladylike, are you?” He waved two of his pixie friends over from the shadows, and they all pointed and laughed at Ruelle, who severely wished she could rip off the cage door and attack the miserable little bastards.
She scowled at her kidnappers. One day, she'd been sitting around after a hard working session, still in her training robes by the time her other sisters and brothers gathered at the banquet. Halfway through the feast, a blue hole opened up in the middle of their table, pulsating and swirling with chaotic energy, and a bunch of people tumbled out without setting off any of the castle's magical defenses. The invaders sent the feasters into a deep sleep with a powerful witch artefact in their possession – The Nightmare Eater.
Though Ruelle had rather pleasant dreams, it was still a magically induced sleep, and when she woke up, Ruelle found herself in this prison, and a vast array of monsters leering and jeering at her in the cage. She didn't know what became of all her siblings, though her older sister Xanthia sat in a cage about five rows down. Xanthia wore a beautiful yellow gown and wielded luminous brown hair. (She'd been blessed with glowing hair and the ability to always look good in yellow.)
A troll marched past, inspecting the huge wagon the prisoners were dumped on, and the giant horses attached to the other end, ready to cart them forward. In the distance, faint music rang out. Ruelle stared into the troll's green back and ridiculous electrocuted style hair, her thoughts filled with vengeance. The curse’s words floated into her head again.
I'll be taken by darkness and never see my home again.
Everything she'd been taught, all the careful preparation her parents put in for her, had been for naught.
To be fair, no one expected a portal to bypass the security, or such a powering sleeping enchantment, but it just went to show you you never should get complacent in a world stuffed with magic.
Also, her mother never specifically said Ruelle received all the training to stop the curse. Just to make it easier when the inevitable happened.
I hope Questers will be already gearing up and searching for us. She sent a little prayer, along with hatred towards the pixies. Dark and twisted trees loomed ahead, ominous and foreboding. The procession of wagons, each with caged nobles and royals stopped for a moment. The prisoners got fed, and the Dark Clan members replenished themselves, preparing for the big auction she’d heard them talking about. An auction to sell off nobles and royals to monsters.
Every single one of the prisoners had been inspected, from showing their teeth like horses, to measuring how long each captive’s hair was. Ruelle's golden curls cascaded just past her shoulders. She'd tried for the elegant reach of her back, but it got tangled something awful, and washing it took practically months. It was eminently more practical to keep it short, for all the fighting sessions she went through, and the amount of times she got soaked by water bolts from her master.
She adjusted herself to be more comfortable, and afforded her sister a smile, though Xanthia didn't return it.
When the wagons rolled again, they were led into an enormous clearing which stretched on for many leagues, sporting an open sky above.
It looked like an open sore upon the ground, straight within the heart of the Wilderness, where all the monsters lay and the dragons came from.
She frowned to herself, seeing an eclectic gathering behind rope barriers, and some dragons, enormous with furled wings, tottering around the place, apparently nonplussed.
Having never seen a dragon before, Ruelle's gaze fixated on the scaly lizards and how they towered above everyone else. She also saw djinni and a blue genie floating around, following his current master, some kind of knight dressed in full black.
The wagons stopped, and a set of giants lumbered over to them, picking up the cages in their huge, meaty hands, and placing them upon a crude wooden stage. One giant remained at hand. A hobgoblin with orange skin grinned at his captives with sharp teeth, his pointed chin narrow enough to hang coats on.
Two giants on the side started bashing huge cymbals, generating a horrific cacophony that seized the attention of everyone there. Ruelle clamped hands over her ears, her teeth vibrating from the noise, wincing. Several princesses and nobles started wailing, and a witch ambled past their cages, stealing the voices from the noisy ones and storing each sound in her locket.
A sea of monsters gaped at the captives, and the hobgoblin, who stood on a stepladder to reach the top of the podium on their wooden stage, cleared his throat.
“Welcome, welcome, monsters and men! This month we have a brilliant haul for you, with a batch of princesses, princes and nobles, fresh out of their kingdoms!”
A storm of cheers greeted the hobgoblins thin, reedy voice, and he smiled in a rather simpering way, adjusting the monocle wedged into his eye.
“Yes, yes. We have a total of forty different exhibits for you today. Let's start with lot number one! Bring her forward, Marcell!”
The giant picked open the cage marked One with a finger, then tugged the princess out of the cage, dumping her on his palm. She screamed soundlessly, having had her voice stolen, and started tearing at her flaxen hair in distress.
“As you can see,” the hobgoblin announced, indicating the princess with her face puffy with tears, ravaged by despair, “she's a very traditional princess. She reacts appropriately to such a situation, and would despise being with any kind of monster. She comes from a border kingdom, so her Quest value won't be as high as those from the central ones, but she still holds enough interest to make any monster's life interesting. A perfect princess for all you traditionalists out there.” He gave a huge grin, and the monsters looked around excitedly, before the bidding started.
The princess by now had collapsed into a little ball in the giant's hand, unwilling to function, having acted out her role as captive with admirable tenacity. Ruelle even saw some of the other princesses taking notes, as they plotted how best to react in the company of monsters.
I won't act anything like them. I couldn't, anyway. I've never been brought up that way.
The first princess got sold in the end to a rather droll faced orc, who happily stepped ahead to pay for his princess.
On the side of the stage, Ruelle noticed a man standing there, observing the crowd. Green eyes shone out of his face. His muscular arms were folded, and he wore a sly smirk upon thin, cold lips. Ruelle vaguely recalled seeing him during the wagon procession, though she'd been mostly brooding in her cage, pissed off at having been landed in such a terrible position. To have the curse finally come to pass on her eighteenth birthday.
He must be one of the owners of the wagon trail. One of the ones responsible for capturing and shipping everyone here. Instant hate welled up inside her, and if possible in that moment, she would have quite happily throttled him on the spot.
No matter how irritatingly attractive he happened to be as an individual.
When Ruelle watched dragons shift into humans and shift back again, her eyes widened as she paid closer attention to the man.
She sensed the same kind of presence about him that the other dragons possessed – an air of command, a superior hold of their shoulders, a cold gaze.
Even if he is a dragon, it will make no difference to my fate. It did make her feel a little better, however, to focus and contemplate on something. To obtain some sort of control, even as her turn for being auctioned neared.
As long as it's a powerful creature, I should be worth a lot to decent Questers.
The hobgoblin auctioned off six more people to monsters such as ogres, werewolves, vampires and minotaurs. With every sell, the man with his blue tunic and matching pants stood there, his bearing as imperious as a mature kingdom prince.
When Xanthia was placed upon the stand, excitement rose at the idea of a central kingdom princess. Far more dragons raised their limbs, trying to secure a central woman for themselves. Xanthia did the soundless screaming routine, beating her fists uselessly against the giant's palm, who appeared to completely ignore all her attempts to punch him.
Eventually, Xanthia got sold to a rather lecherous looking dragon with gray skin, who had a disconcerting way of standing on his rear legs, and folding in his arms at the front in dragon form, appearing hunched and awkward.
Good luck, Xanthia. Hope you get rescued soon.
Ruelle kept running through her options, not wanting to resort to screaming like the others. She still held her voice, though the voice stealing witch glared at her suspiciously, fondling her necklace. At times, Ruelle felt convinced she heard the screams of all the princesses locked up in there, as if from a great distance.
When Ruelle's turn finally arrived, the giant's hand reached down to her cage, opening and plucking her out of the small enclosure, rolling her onto his palm.
Instantly, as the hobgoblin started introducing her, she launched herself off his hand, tucking and preparing to break her fall. The impact with the wood diverted itself through her roll and feet to shoulder contact, and she ended up by the hobgoblin's side. The hobgoblin let out a squeak, just before she flattened her hand and chopped him in the neck, making him fall unconscious within an eyeblink.
The crowd gawped at Ruelle, who, tucked in her simple white training robes, appeared nothing like a princess. She dodged a swipe from the giant and hastily dug into the hobgoblin's pockets, fishing out a dagger, and backflipped to avoid the giant's grasping palms.
Before she made a serious bid for escape, the passive man on the side of the stage had now suddenly decided to stop being passive. Green eyes fixated on her. His longish dark hair flowed behind him as he charged towards Ruelle, who now figured her best chances were to escape the stage and make it for the forests.
Even if the forests might be full of monsters and enchantments, she could simply adopt the guise of a Quester and make it her Quest to return home.
At least she knew how to fight. So that was something.
The curse declared I'd never make it back to the kingdom. Well, I'll just have to find a way to break the curse.
Determined, Ruelle avoided another swipe, now dealing with the man with the green eyes. Sensing she couldn't block his blows, she swerved as he bulled past, even as the nobles and royals all gaped at her in shock, and the monster crowd had resorted to cheers and shouts. They were enjoying the spectacle, of all things.
An ogre attempted to block her way, and she skidded underneath his wide apart legs, ducking an attack from a harpy. Several monsters in her way simply cheered, encouraging her on, and she headed towards the densest patch of woodland she saw, hoping to lose the crowd, hoping they wouldn't stop procedures to chase one bothersome princess.
She heard the distinctive thunder of feet behind her, and glanced back to spot the green-eyed man charging her again, hearing him bark at the others to continue the auction.
Her dreams of freedom cut themselves short when the charging man morphed into a huge black dragon, and in a few easy bounds, caught up with her and blasted fire in front of her, forcing her to stop for one heart-rending second. He took the opportunity to seize her in his talons.
Scooped up in tough claws, she heard the dragon growl, “Well, guess I’ll take you for myself.”
Not wasting her time, Ruelle attempted to focus on finding a weak spot in his hands. She used her dagger to push at his scales, but did no damage at all.
The dragon let out a sigh. “Still trying, even now?” He held her close to his face and inspected her for a moment, snout pressed against his hands, puffing hot air onto her. “You will do perfectly.”
Without understanding what she'd be perfect for, the dragon flapped his great wings and soared away from the clearing, Ruelle trapped within.