The Dragon's Mistress (Dragon Erotica) (2 page)

Cameron breathed heavily as he moved his
fingers over Guinevere's hardening nipples, and she moved a hand
down his stomach, pressing her fingers against his navel. She could
feel him hardening against her, and she longed to grip it and feel
it slide against her palm.

"Princess," Cameron gasped, pulling away.

"I have felt a passion for you for years,
Warlock Cameron. Do not deny me."

He took several steps back, releasing her
from his grasp. He looked out the window quickly, relieved to see
that there was still no one but the agitated horses.

Guinevere brought a hand to her mouth, the
heat from his kiss still tingling on her lips. She never wanted the
sensation to leave. "You must help me Cameron, or you will never
have me. Do not take my threat lightly. I will end my own
life."

Cameron could see the severity in her eyes
and nodded. "Very well. I already have blood on my hands. Though I
mourn for you, Princess. I wish that you would choose to live," he
said, brooding as he shut the curtains over the window, the crimson
light from the diaphanous fabric covering his body.

It was the day after her father had left to
Dalbin. He was expected to negotiate some trade and to return with
the Prince. Guinevere knew it was perfect timing so she and Cameron
had prepared accordingly, equipping her with the necessary charmed
objects. It would be several days before any one in the Royal Court
realized she was missing; her tutors were used to her taking off,
spending days in the forest and returning without so much as an
excuse. She was wild and they had little hope for her. They were
happy that the Prince would have her. They were eager to have the
Princess off their hands.

Cameron hid with her behind the stables, well
before the crack of dawn. "I should be going soon," he whispered.
"But here is one last tool." He handed her a rolled up scroll.
"It's a map of the King's Forest."

"I know my way around," Guinevere
scoffed.

"This map is special. If you trace your
finger along it, it will heat to your touch where there is danger.
I know there isn't much that could harm you in the forest you have
seen, but you have not gone as far as you may think. Past the Peril
River you enter the Land of the Dead Man. Spirits and creatures
from the mountains stalk this land at night, looking for lost
souls. Please, do not doubt their magic. It is stronger than mine
could ever be."

The sun's light filtered to through the
forest trees to the east, casting a beautiful orange glow behind
Guinevere’s head. Cameron caught his breath and fought the lump
forming in his throat.

"And if they find my body? Won't they realize
the magic in my things? Will they condemn you?" her brows creased
in concern.

"Heaven forbid, but if such a fate befalls us
the gifts I have given you will perish and burst into flames. But I
can sense the danger in your way, and if it becomes too great and
there is an opportune moment..." he reached down a hand to
tentatively take hers. "I may be forced to interfere." Guinevere
threw her arms up around his neck for one last kiss, pressing her
body desperately against his. She pushed her tongue into his mouth,
anxious and greedy for his taste. He pulled back in shock, a
bemused expression on his stunning countenance.

"Now, Princess...we should not be caught in
such a compromising position. Be off; I shall have you once you
have the stone," he grinned, a small sadness in his eye.

"You do not believe that I will
succeed
—
no matter. I may not. But please
know that I have loved you since the moment you first came to
court."

Cameron's green eyes weakened. "Then run away
with me. Forget this godforsaken scheme."

"My love for you is surpassed only by my love
for Aspen," Guinevere reached a hand up to Cameron's face and
stroked his hard jaw gently with her thumb. "Trouble is coming and
I sense it. I am not sure how much longer my father will last, and
I cannot let the kingdom fall into my stepmother's rule for a
moment. I must rise and become what Aspen needs."

Cameron nodded and stepped back, fighting the
tears brimming in his eyes. "Then I must go. And so should you.
Until next," he knelt down and bowed his head like he was nothing
more than another subject. Guinevere could feel her heart breaking
at his formal behavior.

"Until next," she responded, turning to enter
the stable without looking back. By the time she led Taerion out of
the stable Cameron was gone. She clambered up on her horse and tied
her pack around his rump. She patted him, and with a swift kick
they were gone, galloping off into the orange glow between the
trees of the King's Forest.

The first day was uneventful. She reached the
small, nameless pond where she had spent many lazy days dipping her
feet in and munching on an apple or wild berries. She bathed in the
waters to relax her nerves, well aware that by the next night, she
would approach the Peril River for the first time. After she bathed
she fed the horse oats and set a fire to cook the hare she had
caught earlier in the day. She severed some tree branches and
created a small shelter for the night.

The next morning she caught some small game
that she cooked immediately, for she was certain she would not want
to call too much attention to herself with a fire in the Land of
the Dead Man. By dusk she could hear the rushing of river water and
she knew, with a knot of dread forming in her stomach, that there
was no turning back.

She set up her camp at the base of a tree a
good ways away from the river
—
she knew over
the noise that she would not be able to hear something if it were
stalking her.

She was asleep for a matter of hours when she
was awoken by a rustling in the nearby darkness. She jumped to her
feet and whipped out her sword, holding it with her two hands out
before her. The commotion woke up Taerion, who stomped his hooves
in excitement.

"Shhh," she calmed him, straining her ears to
hear. She could feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

"Well, if it isn't little Gladia," a cool,
male voice came from behind her. She turned around slowly and saw
that a dull light was growing from behind the tree where she set up
camp.

"Who are you?" she said, trying to steady her
voice. "As the Princess of Aspen I command you to show
yourself!"

"Oh, how very amusing. They have you calling
yourself their
princess
do they?" The light
grew so that she could see the colors of the trees nearby, and out
from behind the shadows stepped a tall, pale man with dark hair and
eyes. He was taller than any man she had ever seen, and a faint
aura surrounded him, so that he looked otherworldly.

"Who are you?" she commanded again.

"Gladia, Gladia. You've lost all that was
nymphish about you. You look just like them. What a pity." He
strode towards her elegantly. Guinevere fought the urge to run.

"That is not my name. And I warn you,
creature, I will slay you."

"Oh but that you would," he said, with a
gleam in his eye. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, sending
the sword flying out of her hands and twenty yards behind her and
into the heart of another tree. She gasped, unable to hide her
surprise. Cameron had warned her about the creatures she would
encounter, and it was only then that she understood how foolhardy
she had been.

"You truly do not remember. You have even
lost the magic within you," the tall man said with a strange mix of
pity and amusement on his chiseled countenance.

"Please," Guinevere pleaded, the hard edge of
her voice lost in the ghostly night. "Tell me who you are before
you slay me."

"Slay you?" the man laughed. "You left me
with a wounded heart, I admit, but you're not so beautiful I'll
slay you over it. Come now, don't be so vain. It's me, Erik. We
were lovers before you were recast as a human."

"What are you saying? That I was a nymph?" If
she weren't so afraid she would have laughed.

"You were, yes," he said, sauntering over to
Taerion and petting him. He was nervous at first, but Guinevere
wondered if he had some sort of sedative on his person, for her
normally alert horse began to calm down. "You were Alabastor's
daughter. The Emperor of us nymphs here in the land you humans call
The King's Forest. But you were always so naughty," he flashed her
a brilliant smile, intoxicating her with a mere glance. "You loved
running off into the mountains, being a wild thing.
My
wild thing," he purred. "But then you went off and
got yourself in trouble with Mortagon. You promised him you would
be his mistress for the rest of eternity in exchange for the
Nymphen Scepter he stole many years back. You had not intended on
keeping your promise, and so your poor father begged of the human
king, the one of Aspen, to take you in as his own. You were reborn
as a human
—
though I say, you look
remarkably similar to how you did all those years ago..."

Guinevere was dumbstruck. "And you expect me
to believe all of that, do you?"

Erik shook his head and walked over to her,
gripping her wrist before she had a chance to pull it away. "You
may believe this," he said, bringing her wrist up to her face so
that she could examine the outline of a dimly glowing star on her
wrist.

"It is the mark of a nymph's soul. It can
only hide in another form, it cannot truly become at home in one,"
he said, holding up his left wrist to reveal a tattooed star.

Guinevere snapped her hand back. It suddenly
made so much sense. All the rumors, and why she looked so
different. Why her father balked at her questions about her
identity. She was truly not of Aspen. She wondered suddenly if her
dreams to protect it were foolish.

"Don't be so cold," Erik murmured, tracing a
cool hand over her cheek. "I have waited so long to see you again,
standing before me. Just give me one night, just one, and I will
take you where ever it is your wandering soul desires to go."

"I want to go back to Mortagon," she said in
a hush, suddenly unsure.

"You never learn, do you? Fine. But you must
follow me to my dwelling. Tomorrow we shall travel to the foot of
those unspeakable mountains."

Guinevere nodded. She clambered up on Taerion
and Erik took the reins in his hand to lead them through the dark
forest, the light from his body surrounding them like an aura. Even
in the light the clawed hands of the trees sent shivers down
Guinevere's spin. He led them for what felt like an hour (which
gave Guinevere plenty of time to imagine the horrible things that
he might do to her in exchange for his service) until they reached
a clearing filled with tall dwellings, each as tall as the castle
itself, though not as wide. People milled about, tall and ethereal
looking like him. A few looked up and stared at Guinevere, but Erik
seemed to communicate something with his eyes.

"Am I an intruder here?" she asked
quietly.

"No. They can read me thoughts...and yours.
Though really, they don't like you much for what trouble you put
the kingdom under, so they are choosing to ignore you."

Guinevere's heart sank. She felt awful for
something she could not even remember doing, in a life that felt so
far away from her. Then, something dawned on her. "So...can you
read my thoughts as well?"
"Yes," Erik laughed. "I'm not going to torture you. I just want to
have some fun," he said, a wide smile spreading across his face as
he turned back to look at her for a moment. They approached one of
the thin castles, which had no candlelight flickering inside of it
like the others, and he tied up Taerion to a tree just before it.
Guinevere kissed her horse softly, nervous for what awaited her
inside.

They entered and the building was not cold
like a castle, but rather, warm like the outside had been. It was
dark, and their bodies lit the hall revealing furniture, even
chairs that were cut from marble. Erik took her hand and led her
down a flight of spiral stairs that hid behind a door to their
immediate left. At the bottom there was a wide, almost barren room
with white walls and a large, brass bed in the middle with a
canopy.

"Ladies first," Erik said, a wry smile on his
beautiful face. He let go of her hand and waived to the bed.
Suddenly, she felt so foolish for not understanding what he had
meant before.
Of course
this is what he wanted.

Guinevere nodded and walked towards the bed,
pausing at the foot of it.

"I will ask you to please, disrobe,
Princess
," Erik's deep, sultry voice came
from behind her.

Chills gripped her body as she undid the
buttoning of her plain brown riding dress. Her hands reached the
base of her back, and she hesitated for a moment before pulling her
frock down to reveal her smooth, naked body. Erik murmured
something behind her.

"S-sorry?" she said, turning her head around
to see that he was shirtless. The broad expanse of his chiseled
chest caused her to gasp. His skin was stunning and glittering
under the light of his own aura.

"I said, you are stunning. Now crawl onto the
bed like a good princess."

Guinevere complied, suddenly aching for his
body to be near. She could feel him approaching from behind. He
said something she could not decipher and suddenly golden ropes
appeared around her wrists and bound her to the posts of the bed.
She could feel them around her ankles too, and a quick glance
confirmed their presence.

"Don't bother to fight it, Gladia. You are
mine once again," he chuckled softly and she looked behind her to
see him raise a whip in his hand and bring it down onto the soft
flesh of her behind. She yelped as the resounding smack filled her
body with a delicious pain. He cracked the whip again, sending
another jolt of fiery ecstasy through her veins.