The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Phantasy – One Erotic Tale from Phantasmagoria - For your Individual Pleasure Copyright © 2003 Morgan Hawke ISBN: 1-55410-020-8 Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.Extasybooks.com Queen of Dragons Sorceress Seduction A blue and gold banner emblazoned with a clawing white lion snapped in the wind above the War Duke’s head. From the height of the ridge, his golden eyes watched the carnage of the battle that had shifted from the ridge to the valley below. His great black war-horse shuddered under him, excited by the scent of blood and death. The massive stallion pawed the bloodied earth, jingling his bit, his armored sides heaving. The horses of his accompanying troops shied nervously under their armored riders as they stood arrayed about him to either side. The War Duke’s eyes were drawn to the opposite ridge of the blood-drenched valley, where a woman battled ferociously atop a screaming fire-red stallion. Even in her crimson armor with its fanged dragon helmet, there was no mistaking the feminine curves. She lashed out at her attackers with uncanny speed and deadly accuracy. The War Duke pushed his helmet visor up to get a clearer view of the woman. She looked like a red dragon in female form, the gilded scales of her armor glittering in the dying sunlight, her scarlet cloak flying about her like wings. Her sword flashed with the unmistakable glint of blue steel. The hilt was set with a stone that caught the dying sun's light and blazed crimson. No one could stand against her. Obviously an artist had made that scaled suit of steel for her alone. It hugged her curves and moved as easily as flesh. The War Duke whistled as he sat atop his restless stallion. “My god, she’s magnificent!” “Where in the seven Hells did the Boar find her?” one of the captains exclaimed. The War Duke narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell what family she comes from, her shield is too smeared with blood to see what’s on it. She has to come from good family, though, I think that’s a ruby in her sword. Nothing else would glow that bright in sunlight.” “God in heaven! She just cut that soldier in half!” said another. “That’s not a woman. That’s a she-demon conjured from the pits of hell,” said a grizzled older captain. “Look at her, she fights with more than the strength of a man.” “I heard that the woman is supposed to be a sorceress called the Wyvrn, a fell creature born of magic, both woman and dragon,” remarked one of the war duke's lieutenants. “Her armor is made from the enchanted skin of a dragon.” “I heard that she was conjured by a powerful Sorcerer during the Age of Legends.” One of the War Duke’s younger captains nudged his stallion closer. “I also heard tell that the Boar struck a deal with a devil for her.” “A sorceress wearing a dragon’s skin for armor?” He laughed. “The Wyvrn is a creature of myth.” The War Duke smiled grimly. “This woman is just a formidable warrior in a clever suit of steel.” The War Duke looked about at his doubtful Captains. “I will hear no more talk of sorceresses.” The armored roan the woman rode trumpeted a challenge, then reared on his hind legs, pawing the smoke-tainted air with bladed steel-shod hooves. The woman moved in perfect time with her infuriated mount. Her sword struck like lightning at the tide of men surging all around her. The roan suddenly spun in a circle, hooves slashing and teeth snapping. Horses bucked fighting their riders, trying to get away from her inhuman fury and her demonic stallion. The War Duke felt a stirring in his breeches at the sight of her dancer’s grace and exquisite control over her screaming mount. His mind filled with images of himself wrapped in her powerful thighs, battling to ride her to submission. “When we win this battle, I want the woman brought to me if she still lives,” the War Duke ordered his men. They rolled their eyes, but saluted their obedience. Smoke shifted across the battlefield, obscuring the War Duke’s view of the sword-woman. He snapped his visor down over his face and shouted to his troops. As one unit, they charged down the embankment to join the battle, trumpets blazing and the flying hooves of their mounts a deadly thunder. *** The War Duke awoke to a pounding headache. He groaned as torchlight speared into his eyes. Shifting away from the glare of the torch, he suddenly realized that it was full dark, and his wrists were tightly chained behind him. Lying on his side, he still wore his armor, though his helmet was nowhere to be seen. With great difficulty, from the sheer weight of his steel plate, he sat up against the wall. With a groan, he shook his head to clear his long black hair from his face. The back of his head throbbed in time with his heart. In shock, he looked about him at the milling troops and realized that the red and gold banners of the Boar surrounded him. Walls of mortared stone rose all around him, surrounding him. He was within a castle somewhere. He squinted in the uncertain torchlight, looking for a door, an escape, anything. “Bring the prisoner,” he heard someone call. Two fully armored, burly men-at-arms lifted him by the elbows and pushed him to his feet. His steps hampered by chains, the War Duke’s spurs jangled on the stone floor as he was shoved forward. “Where are you taking me?” he shouted. “What happened? Where are my men?” In stoic silence, more armored soldiers came forward. He struggled against his captors, swearing in three languages, his questions ignored by the guards. He took some measure of pride in that they had to use four men to hold him, even chained. He was pulled and forced down a long, narrow stone-walled corridor, then shoved hard to his knees. His grieves squealed sharply on the floor. Mailed hands held him down by the plates across his shoulders. The sound of steel-shod boots swiftly approaching came from the corridor before him. He could hear the voice of the Boar growling to his dukes about the morrow’s battle. A group of fully armored knights, still spattered with gore from the recent battle, stopped ten paces before him. The crowd parted, and suddenly the dragon-helmeted woman was standing before him in all her scaled glory. At her throat, a huge ruby seemed to glow with uncanny fire. He had thought her armor red. He smelled the strong taint of copper and crimson dripping from her entire suit. The red was blood smeared across her as thickly as paint. Her body flowed like silk and water. Her armor was so exquisitely crafted that the scales shifted, flexing with each step as she moved, expanding and contracting with each breath. He watched as she turned to the man next to her and said something softly. Suddenly, he could see her back. Her arms and spine were ridged with razor-honed overlapping spikes. Her gauntlets were tipped with sharp claws and armed with daggered spurs to the elbow. The artistry of the armor was perfect in every detail, and gilded with silver even on the tiniest edge. The fanged helm appeared to be joined to her suit seamlessly. There was nothing to show how the helm was attached to her shoulders, or how it was to be removed. Her magnificent body looked naked but for the carnage-spattered scales that covered her completely. The vee of her woman’s flesh was delicately outlined by her armor, and at eye level. The War Duke felt the blood pound to his manhood as he gazed at her. “Yes,” she said, her voice hissing from within her dragon helm. “This is the one.” Her horned dragon helm turned ruby eyes to the Boar standing a pace away. “He is mine, you agreed.” She wasn’t asking a question. The War Duke could not believe his ears. Hers? He was her prisoner? “I agreed, witch. Him, you can have with my blessing.” The Boar let out a filthy laugh. He looked directly into the War Duke’s eyes. “You poor bastard. You should see what happened to her last one.” “Where are my men?” the War Duke snarled. “Without you, they’ll fall to my troops at dawn. If I were you, I’d be more worried about her tender mercies.” He laughed again then strode away with his knights. So, the War Duke thought, they have me but not my army. If I can escape... “I must be prepared for the battle before me,” the woman said to the War Duke, interrupting his thoughts. He could feel an odd tingling in his head as she spoke to him. The helm parted seemingly by itself at her throat, and she pulled it from her head. Hair the color of blood fell in a scarlet cloak to her hips. Her face was that of an angel, with wide-set onyx eyes and full lips made for kisses. The white line of a scar slashed across her cheek. Rather than marring her perfection, it added incredible character. “You are not like the others,” she continued. No longer distorted by her helm, she spoke in a voice that seemed to reach inside and stroke him from within. He was enchanted. She cocked her head to one side as she gazed at him, eyes narrowed. “I have no time for little mysteries or for niceties. I have need of your strength.” Looking into her black eyes, he though he saw the crackling of distant lightning deep within. There was power and a touch of sadness. For him? Handing her helm to one of the waiting guards, she gestured, ordering them to strip him of his armor. The War Duke had no idea what was going to happen, but he wasn’t going to willingly submit to anything. They unchained his wrists, then held him down arms spread wide as they unbuckled, then peeled the separate pieces of his steel armor from him. Even on his knees, he fought them every step of the way. “Stop,” the woman said sharply. The guards froze, and so did he. They had his chest plate and the bulk of his armor off of him. His gorget, his gauntlets and bits of his armor littered the floor. He still wore his shin-protecting grieves over his doe- skin trews and spurred boots. His padded gambeson, worn under the steel chest-plate hung open, bearing his naked chest. Like a great cat, the woman moved toward him. He could smell the raw copper of blood on her armor. His captors held him firmly as she reached out a gauntleted hand. She touched his breast, and her clawed fingers raked only lightly. She splayed her fingers and placed her palm over his heart. He couldn’t stop her from feeling its pounding. His breath shuddered in his chest. What the hell is going on here? Warmth flooded from her palm, and he looked up at her, startled. Her eyes were intent, locking onto his. He felt himself drifting, falling into her bottomless black gaze. He forgot the guards; he forgot the battle. He only saw the woman before him. “Release him.” He heard her voice as though from far away. Fascinated beyond thought, he watched as she came closer, filling his vision with her violent and threatening beauty. She bent closer, then her lips were touching his in a feather-light kiss. All thought stopped as he felt the warm silk of her soft lips moving over his. “Desire me.” Her breath brushed against his mouth and her voice rippled straight to his loins, bringing the fine hairs of his neck to attention. His heart hammered violently in his chest and he felt his blood surge powerfully into his groin, filling him with overwhelming and burning need. Pressing forward, he sought closer contact. His mouth opened to taste her, to take possession of her. She let him within, her tongue stroking his, and he shuddered with violent passion. She rushed forward into his arms, and he found his hands released to take her, and his ankles free as he rose on one knee to meet her embrace. His arms closed around her, and the edged scales on her back and spine seemed to fold away their sharp edges under his bare hands. He grunted as her full weight fell onto him. Her armor-plated body was as heavy as anyone wearing plate mail might be, but the armor was surprisingly warm and moved fluidly, very unlike steel plates as she let him hold her. With surprising strength and ease, she knocked him back on the hard stone floor, straddling his hips. His manhood was aching, trapped against the leather of his codpiece. He almost cried out in his sudden need to bury it in her warm flesh. She rose up on him; her clawed fingertips raked gently across his nipples and down his stomach, scoring him with livid marks. He shuddered, and a fierce moan of pleasure was startled out of him. She placed her hand on the glowing ruby at her throat, then slid her hand down. The ruby began to glow, spilling bloody light over her skin and his body, and seemed to beat in time with the pulse he could see beating in her throat. The brilliant red stone appeared to be lodged at the base of her throat, grafted into the skin. He watched as her armor split, shifting apart as though it was retreating into her skin. My God, he thought in alarm, she is a sorceress...Only magic can explain this! The parting scales revealed her full perfect breasts, topped with rosy and hardened nipples. He swallowed. Sorceress or not, she is incredible. The armor continued to separate down the center of her body, spreading until he could see her smooth belly and the shaven mound of her female flesh nestled against the leather of his codpiece. Oddly, her powerful thighs remained scaled by her armor as she straddled him. The War Duke’s mouth dried as he gazed on her sleek alabaster perfection, her muscles rippling under generous curves. She leaned down over him, pressing her naked breasts to the wall of his chest. Her clawed fingers slid through his long black locks. Suddenly her hand locked in his hair, gripping him mercilessly. She looked deep into his eyes, covering his mouth with hers in a searing kiss. Mouths locked together, he sat up with her in his arms and grunted with the effort. This is no feather- weighted maiden, he thought. His mouth slid from her lips down her throat. He captured a breast in his hand, bent to bring his lips to the hard nipple that crowned it. He stroked against it with his tongue, then sucked hard, bringing a moan from the woman. He slid an arm around her scaled back to hold her in place as he ravished her breasts. He snaked a hand under the curve of her buttock to touch her intimate flesh. Her hips writhed as he found her and slid his finger into her moistness. He explored her, and her excitement dampened his fingers and palm. Searching far within her depths, he discovered the soft fleshy mass that was her passion’s trigger. He pressed against it, flicked it lightly in a steady rhythm. She shuddered in his arms, and her hips bucked as she rode his hand, eyes slitted, biting her lip. He gripped her tightly, holding her while sitting upright, as she chose her rhythm and began panting her way toward ecstasy’s release. She stopped at the very edge, snarling and vibrating with unreleased tension. In sudden temper, she released his hair to tear at the ties on his codpiece. He spread his legs wide to avoid the spines and spurs of her gauntlets, then hissed as his flesh was released to her palms. He felt her close her clawed fingers around him with unexpected gentleness. Her eyes locked to his, she slowly stroked his shaft and brought her lips down, opening wide to sheathe him. The heat of her mouth was incredible. He groaned and panted as her tongue swirled and licked at the swollen, sensitive head. His hips bucked into her mouth for more. She took him deeply, sucking hard, her tongue stroking from within. He moaned, mouth open, eyes rolling back from the exquisite intense pleasure. His hands tangled in her blood-red hair. She rose, stroking him with her lips, grazing him gently with her teeth as her palm cradled his balls. She fell, swallowing him whole. He could feel her throat closing around him. She pulled back, then sucked him back down her throat, and he gasped. He grunted, sweat gleaming on his chest as his hips bucked without control. He watched his flesh wet with her saliva sliding in and out, fucking him with her mouth until he was ready to burst. His neck muscles stood out in relief, he fisted his hands in her hair. He was so close, just a bit more and he would spill himself in her mouth. She released him, and he cried out in frustration. She shoved him until his back was flat against the stone floor. Her hand wrapped around his shaft again, taking possession of his flesh. He looked up from where he lay on the stone to see her poised above his hips, holding him in position at the damp red mouth of her cunt, her ruby mane in wild disarray about them both. She sat, plunging herself down onto his rampant shaft. He bowed up from the floor as she took him deep into her body. She grasped him powerfully from within, then rocked forward, leaning down over him, her clawed fingers splayed on his chest. She leaned, then nipped lightly at his nipples. Without thought, he grabbed her scaled hips and lifting, surged up into her. His spurred heels raked the cold stone of the floor as he dug for purchase. She rocked, riding him as he bucked up into her heat. The muscles of his arms stood out in whipcords as he anchored her hips to keep her locked against him as he laid full length on the stone. He grasped her breast with one hand and brought her to his mouth, determined to bring her to release. He sucked hard on her distended nipples and felt her shake with violent passion. She moaned, long and low. He could feel a light sweat start on her hip under his palm and the trembling of her body around his cock. He recognized the signs. She was close, almost there. He was on the brink of his own climax, and he didn’t know if he could hold out much longer. Curling his hand around the curve of her buttock he pulled, rocking her hard, grinding her against him while working to angle his shaft against that soft fleshy mass that was her hidden trigger. She cried out as he found it and her cunt grabbed hold of him. His cock felt as if it was being sucked into the very depths of her. He gasped in mind-numbing, ecstatic euphoria. She shuddered hard, vibrating around him, and he realized that she was beginning to climax. The screams of her mounting ecstasy echoed strongly in the empty stone hallway. Suddenly he felt the tightening of his own imminent release. He groaned, and she shoved him hard, dropping full-length and heavy upon him, pinning him to the floor under her considerable weight. She writhed and moaned as her climax thundered through her. He choked in pleasurable pain as her powerful inner muscles gripped his cock like a steel vise and shuddered around him. Her arms locked around him, claws digging deep. He could feel tiny trickles of blood running down his ribs. He locked his arms around her as he worked to pump himself into her heated depths, not caring if her armor cut his flesh to ribbons. He hissed as the pain of her clawed fingertips intensified his orgasm as it arched through him in a glorious blaze. In mindless rapture, he felt his shaft and balls tighten, trembling on the very edge, then explode to fountain into her, filling her with his body’s essence. Through the fever of his pleasure he saw the corridor filling with a blinding and bloody light that seemed to be coming from her ruby. The light of her ruby swelled to a glaring intensity. Suddenly the War Duke felt the light burning into him, blazing with intensity and glory that wrapped around his body and swallowing him whole. Renewed passion violently blazed through his mind and flesh as he felt his life, his soul, being drawn into her body. Suddenly her pleasure slammed in a brutal red wave through his mind, then burned in a heated wave into his soul. Ecstasy echoed back and forth between their shared thoughts, magnifying to a tidal wave of screaming rapture. His howls joined hers as the pleasure went on and on, washing over them in wave after wave. Without warning, her armor rippled under his hands. He gasped. What was happening? Through the red haze of shrieking pleasure, the War Duke struggled to move out from under the woman as her armor came to virulent life and writhed over them both. She wasn’t wearing a suit of gilded armor; it was an enchanted skin. “By all that’s holy—let me go!” He fought to get away, but she held him pinned to the floor with her uncanny strength as the scales stabbed into him with a thousand tiny claws. It was quickly grafting itself to him, scale by painful scale. “I cannot,” she said softly and clung tighter. “I need all of you.” He shouted as he felt himself being wrapped to her body with incredible speed. “What is happening?” “My enchanted dragon’s skin is sealing us together,” she said softly. “It will soon be over.” “But why?” “I am the Wyvrn, and you are mine.” He froze in astonishment. By all that was Holy, he was indeed taken by a sorceress; she really was the Wyvrn! A woman more than half dragon, conjured by a powerful Sorcerer long ago. But, that was only a legend, a myth. Struggling anew, he discovered that the armor had sealed his body to hers; he was trapped in the circle of her powerful arms. He felt a kind of betrayal as he realized that he was still hard from wanting her. The skin covered both of their bodies with amazing speed, then suddenly encased both of their heads together, smothering him in absolute darkness. Fear gripped his heart in a vise. The sound of her pounding heart filled his ears. He couldn’t breathe. “Surrender to me,” a soft voice was saying over and over, as though from far away. “Give me your strength, your fears, your soul,” the voice whispered. “Be of me.” He opened his mouth to scream and her lips covered his. Air was forced into his straining lungs and he found he could breathe. Through the ripping pain of the enveloping skin he could still feel the moist heat of the woman wrapped around his man- flesh. “Yield, and have your revenge on the Boar,” the voice continued, stronger, clearer. “Open, let me in. Yield, and live,” it commanded in a ringing voice that seemed ageless and ancient. In a way he could not fathom, he could feel that it was her voice, speaking directly to his soul. He couldn’t speak, her mouth covered his completely but his soul screamed. “I yield!” The doors of his mind slammed wide, letting in an inferno of flame. He felt a burning at the base of his throat. A firestorm swept into and through his blood, searing into his frantically beating heart. Wrapped in her unyielding embrace, his body shuddered and trembled with unspoken shrieks of agony and splendor as passion blazed through him. A second powerful wrenching climax consumed him from within. He felt his soul tear apart in a howling red tide of flames. Flame closed in on him and smothered him into red-tinted darkness. “Body to body, soul to soul, heart to heart. Be one with me,” whispered the ancient voice. “Rise and be reborn, child of my flesh, my soul, my heart.My love.” The War Duke shuddered suddenly awake. She drew away from him and stood. He stared up from where he lay sprawled on the stones, surprised that he could see. Surprised that he lived. He had been convinced that her fire had torn him asunder. There was an echoing surprise in her onyx eyes as she stood over him. The Wyvrn held her clawed hand out to him. “You are reborn, a Wyvrn as I am. More dragon than man.” He looked up from the floor as she towered over him. He felt an inner movement, a second self that was very old and very powerful. Something else was living around and within his body. In that moment, he knew that he was no longer merely human. “I have much to teach you.” He saw a shimmering beauty within her that he hadn’t noticed even in the throes of lust. He felt a powerful aching emotion roar through his heart. He took her hand and discovered that his own hand was gauntleted and spurred as hers was. With ease she pulled him to his feet. He found that he was entirely covered in scaled armor from throat to foot. His body was encased in glittering black scales. The scales of her armor were shining silver and clean of all traces of the blood that had painted her completely. “You’re clean,” he said softly. “It is the blood that feeds the dragon’s skin. After a long battle, the suit must be fed, and fed well.” She looked him over, her hand warm against his black scales. Power surged through his limbs and he stretched, reveling in his newfound strength. In astonishment, he found that his armor seemed weightless and completely unrestricted, allowing him to move as smoothly as though naked. He looked at his scaled arms. “Does it come off, or am I sealed in here forever?” She smiled. “The skin can be shed, but the ruby is what connects us to our dragon’s soul. The skin responds to the ruby.” He lightly touched his throat and discovered a stone lodged there. “That is your dragon’s eye, the seat of your soul,” she said. “I have never seen anyone receive one. You are the first to survive my embrace.” She tilted her head to one side. Anguish touched her eyes. “All of the others died in flames, burned to dust.” Around him, a light dusting of ash lay scattered on the floor. There was a scent of burned cloth, leather and scorched metal. They were the remains of his clothes and his own plate armor. The guards were nowhere to be seen. “The trappings of your mortal body,” the Wyvrn said softly. “The guards have fled, having seen the remains of my last lover.” There was sorrow in her eyes. “I am not truly sure why you survived to be reborn when others have not, but I suspect that part of you wanted to be as I am.” She cocked her head to look at him. “To be powerful? To be a creature of magic and legend?” The War Duke flexed his muscles discovering a new strength and an odd hunger he couldn’t quite identify. “To be more than merely human?” He smiled. “Somehow I just don’t understand the attraction.” He raised a brow sarcastically. “Come, I have promises to keep, and a need to see the color of the Boar’s blood.” Her smile was fierce and cold. “I am under gaes, an oath that forbids me to harm the Boar.” “How does the Boar have command of one such as you?” He could feel something strange and protective swelling in his breast. He could not imagine anyone controlling her will. “There is a sorcerer you must slay to release me,” she said gazing at him with a question in her eyes. She leaned over and picked up her dragon helm from where it had been dropped on the floor. He took both her hands, “Your enemies are my foes. For you, I will slay them all.” He dipped his head low to hide his fears and uncertainty from her. “For I find that now, I cannot live without you.” He lifted his head. “Beloved,” she whispered. He touched his lips to hers and she returned his kiss with fervor, tasting him. She pressed her body to his and he could feel her warmth and firm muscles under her suit undulating against him. She embraced him, resting her cheek on his armored heart. “For you I would slay the moon and the stars. We are bound, heart to heart and soul to soul. Forever.” He pulled her close reveling in her warmth and scent. “I will need a weapon.” “Your sword is never further than your heart.” With a smile she pulled away from him. “Grip the eye of the dragon and pull. Carefully.” He touched the stone at his throat and surprisingly it split and a part of it came away in his hand. Lightning arced up his arm in a blaze of white heat and the scent of ozone filled the hallway. In his palm was the hilt of a perfectly balanced blue steel sword. Ruby light flamed from the pommel and reflected up an edge as fine as a razor. “I have never seen a blade such as this.” “Your weapon is made of dragon fire.” She looked at her helm thoughtfully. “You conjure your helm as you do your sword, by touching your ruby.” “For the Boar and his pet sorcerer, I will need no helm.” His voice deepened to a bass rumble. “I want them to see my face. I want them to know that I would slay anyone or anything, for you.” “Come, it is time to blood your steel and feed the hunger of your dragon. Our enemies may be found in the castle library, secure in your defeat.” The Wyvrn touched her own ruby, conjuring a sword like his own. Her black eyes blazed with fierce joy as she led the way. * * * There were no guards at the narrow door of the library. Politely, the War Duke knocked. “This had better be important!” bellowed a voice. The War Duke shoved, slamming the door open against the wall with a crash. He took two steps into the small room, his blade in his hand. The tiny room was crammed with leather-bound volumes on wooden shelves. Tall candles under glass illuminated the room from all four corners. Maps and parchments littered a long table that was shoved against the bookshelves below an arching window. “What the Hell? You’re supposed to be dead!” shouted the Boar, still in full steel plate. He stepped away from a gaunt older man in shimmering red robes. “The small man in the robes is the sorcerer,” hissed the Wyvrn from beyond the doorway. “Kill him quickly.” The aged sorcerer rose from his stool by a tall narrow desk that dominated the room. He raised a hand writhing with black flames. The War Duke grunted in reply then the world appeared to slow down. His sword flicked out, almost by itself, in the gentlest of motions. A thin line appeared at the throat of the robed man. The sorcerer’s mouth made an O of surprise, and then his head flew away from his body. The rest of him crumpled in upon itself in a boneless heap with a hiss of silk. Blood spewed from the body and sprayed in a hot fountain across the War Duke’s chest. He could feel each individual drop as it struck him. The Boar drew his heavy sword out with a filthy curse and struck at the War Duke. Without thought, The War Duke raised his own weapon to parry the Boar’s blade. As though in a dream, he danced around the slow clumsy strikes of the Boar. The blue steel blade sliced into the joints of the Boar’s armor in long smooth slices without a trace of resistance. A joyous red haze slid across the War Duke’s vision. “Beloved?” whispered a soft voice. The War Duke blinked and found himself kneeling in a pool of blood spreading thickly across the stone floor of the library. His was looking at a pulped mass of bleeding flesh gripped in his fists, his sword gone. He lifted his eyes, and the Wyvern’s black orbs, glimmering with blue lightning, met his. In silence, she dropped to her knees before him. “And so, you have blooded your steel and ripped out the heart of the Boar. I am free,” she said. He could smell the blood dripping from his hands. In disgust, he pitched the wet mass of flesh against the wall. “Now we must feed your hunger,” she whispered. He could smell the fresh copper of blood on her armor, on his own armor, on the floor, in the air he breathed. It was spattered in rivulets across the leather tomes and streaked the walls. His man-flesh swelled rigid with sudden cruel and painful lust. He gasped with the strength of his body’s virulent and overwhelming desire. “I need you,” he growled, his body pulsing with effort not to take her there on the blood-soaked floor. “Take me,” she whispered, only inches away. “Wait...I am as you now.” He looked at her with pained eyes, thinking of the men she had destroyed in her fiery embrace. “What if I kill you?” “It is how we feed. It is the ecstasy that triggers the magic, but it is the blood that feeds the dragon. I believe that there is enough blood and death in this room to satisfy both our dragons, but if it should kill me, I would die gladly in the arms of my beloved.” “I...I can’t take that chance.” There was an inferno building up under his skin. Sweat started to drip from his face. A fine trembling erupted all through his limbs. “You can. You must. If you don’t take me, you will die here and now. Your dragon will drink your blood and slay you to be fed.” She locked her black eyes on his. I cannot let that happen.” A flash of blue lightning blazed in their depths, swallowing him whole. Ravenous with need, the War Duke reached for her. He hooked his gore-coated clawed hands into her hip plates and pulled. The Wyvrn tumbled into his arms and he rolled her easily beneath him. Her hair spilled in a bright skein of crimson silk across the dark maroon lake washing across the floor. His lips captured hers, tasting blood. His tongue speared her mouth hungrily. His spine writhed as he mindlessly sought to work his hips between her thighs, spattering still-warm carmine red over them both. A sibilant growl rumbled from his chest. His clawed fingers pawed frantically at her suit. It split and shimmered apart under his palm, his fingers scoring her white skin even as his own blood- spattered suit split down his chest, releasing him. With a snarl he pulled her thigh over his, opening her wide. His shaft was agonizingly swollen and inhumanly hard, and his mind enslaved by ravenous lust as he worked to penetrate her softness. Her spurred heel dug into the floor, raising her hips. He found her, then plunged within without gentleness, practically screaming with voracious need. With both clawed hands he cupped her ass and brutally pulled her up to meet his thrusts. She was tight, but wet and ready for him. He buried himself repeatedly to the hilt, then pulled back to slam back into her damp warmth. He pounded savagely into her heat as fast and as hard as he was able. The loud slaps of wet flesh against wet flesh defined every lunge of his hips as he tried to go deeper, to hammer himself through her, into her core. Around him, he could feel her flesh gripping him in a welcoming velvet fist. She shuddered hard below him, her body climbing to violent surrender. There was a flare at the base of his spine and suddenly he was dancing on the raw edge of climax. There was a tightening of her body under and around him then she froze, her mouth open. He stilled in awe as he felt a blaze of white-hot flame scorch up from the woman below him. She shrieked, and he felt himself tighten painfully in reaction, then let go in an unbearable fire-fall of release. He pumped fiercely into her as he strove to empty himself into her completely. A white heat flared at his throat, stealing his breath then searing him through the heart. The room filled with ruby light as their pleasure cascaded into each other’s mind and soul, consuming them both. He barely heard her cries of insane joy as he howled in glorious sated rapture, the copper-sweet taste of blood fading from his lips. As the light from their pleasure dimmed, a light dusting of ash settled where the scattered remains of the sorcerer and the Boar had been, leaving not a drop of scarlet anywhere for anyone to find on either of them. He opened his eyes to her smiling onyx gaze, and sobbed with joy, hugging her tightly. “Remind me never to doubt you,” he whispered, chuckling. “Oh, I will beloved, I will indeed.” * * * The Wyvrn, beautiful and sleek, rose from her candle- lit bath. Her long silky mane of blood-red hair fell below her buttocks as she waited for him. Firelight gleamed across the water droplets that coated her. “Welcome to my home, wife,” the War Duke said with tenderness. He wrapped a warm towel around her alabaster and human skin planting a gentle kiss, then a not-so-gentle nip on her shoulder. She turned her onyx eyes to his topaz gaze. With soft fingers she slid her hand through his waist-length raven tresses. Her finger traced the ruby that glowed at the base of his throat, the fiery light throbbing in time to his heartbeat. “Husband,” she whispered to him. “Never would I have dreamed that I would find you. I believed that I was destined to live alone, slaying all who would love me.” “Beloved,” he whispered to her, brushing his lips across her brow. “I will be here to share your battles and guard you always. For we are bound, heart to heart and soul to soul. Forever.” His lips touched hers, and her mouth opened beneath his in welcome. Across the fire-lit room a dragon’s scale suit of armor sat on a mahogany frame, gleaming clean and silver in the sunlight that poured through the castle window of their home. A ruby-pommeled sword of blue steel lay in its own stand before it. Beside the silver armor, a second stand of mahogany held a similar suit of dragon’s skin, dark and black with newness. In time the second suit would gleam silver also. A second blue steel sword completed the set. Side by side they rested. Waiting for the next battle. About the Author F or me, writing is more than a passion, it's an obsession. The stories crowd into my head. I write them down so I can get some peace. According to my mother, I was writing stories before I began Kindergarten with any pencil, pen or crayon that I could get my grubby little hands on. Any piece of paper with enough blank space became a place to draw my little pictures telling stories about mermaids with long beautiful tails, witches who could fly and wild horses. To this day my mother likes to gleefully recite to all her friends the tale of how I cried over losing a particularly good mermaid picture that I had drawn on the back of the phone bill. She still insists that the lady who took the bill thought it was wonderful, too—but no, she couldn't bring it back. The copier had yet to be invented at that time. I published my first story in a magazine during my sophomore year in high school; a nice little horror story about a ghost dog and revenge against his murderer. Very lurid and very gory. I am a voracious reader of Romance, Science- Fiction, Fantasy, Horror and Erotica, so naturally my stories follow along the lines of what I want to read. Where do I get my ideas from? Rampant curiosity. I play the game of 'What If?' with everything I encounter. Everything I do and everything I see, triggers a story to be told: What if the waitress being hit-on by a pushy guy is really a succubus? 'Night Waitress' What if Satan uses all those souls he collects for Demonic assignments? 'Demoness' What if you were seduced and discovered that you caught a rare STD: Lycanthropy? 'Snow Moon' I have lived in seven states and spent two years in England. I have been an auto mechanic, a security guard, a waitress, a groom in a horse-stable, in the military, a magazine editor, a bellydancer and a stripper. These days I work as a copywriter / editor for an adult entertainment Internet company, so I guess you could say that I write for a living. I write promotional material for my company and my non-fiction articles are published in Klixxx Magazine and AVN Online magazine. Last year I became associate editor for a regional adult entertainment magazine 'V2'. A very interesting experience. I learned a lot about 'writing to order'. Why do I write? I write to keep my sanity. ~*~