Dragon Desire

Caitrin gasped.

Her crimson and gold brooch fell to the floor where it tinkled loudly in the silence of the offices.

Again Nihal thrashed the wand through the air.

This time her undershirt disappeared. Caitrin shrieked as the clothes were torn away by invisible hands.

Thrash.

Another flash of dark, pink light.

Her chemise, breast girdle and braies disappeared in the same instant.

One moment she had stood before the wizard in her underclothes. She had been inexplicably erect and standing as still and motionless as a child playing gargoyles. And in the next moment she was stripped bare and touched by the chill of the room’s coolness against her naked flesh.

She gasped.

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. She glanced down at herself and saw that her bare body was completely uncovered. Her breasts, well-rounded and firm, were revealed to the mage. The secrets of her sex, the dark curls shorn into the same fashions that Robert had said were in vogue amongst revered courtiers and courtesans from the palaces of the Southern Kingdoms, were exposed to Nihal.

The mage took a step back.

‘Caitrin,’ Nihal murmured with approval. ‘It seems you’ve matured into a comely young woman.’

Caitrin wanted to wrap protective hands over her body and cover herself from the mage’s gaze. But her arms stayed firmly by her sides. When she did make a concerted effort to cover herself she was appalled to find that her hands would not move as she willed them. Through the power of some dark magicks, Nihal had an absolute control over her.

The muscles inside her sex rippled hungrily at the idea. Her nipples stiffened as though they had been teased by the mage’s long and slender fingertips.

‘Why have you stripped my clothes away?’

She tried to say the words without revealing her excitement. As panic strained her nerves she began to wonder if Nihal might hear the sexual need colouring her voice. She wasn’t sure if that was something she desperately wanted or if it was something she heartily feared.

‘I have to make sure you are who you said you were,’ Nihal explained. ‘If Gethin ap Cadwallon is a potential threat to this fiefdom he could send spies to my offices disguised as someone above suspicion. The man could even be a dark mage capable of such shape-shifting himself –’

‘Getting at codswallop?’

She didn’t know what the words meant. The name sounded vaguely like the title of one of the landed gentry discussed in her father’s politics, but it was not a name to which she’d ever paid any attention. Her brow wrinkled with the effort of trying to understand the conversation.

‘Gethin ap Cadwallon,’ Nihal corrected. ‘And if you really are Caitrin it’s a name you’d do well to remember. Gethin ap Cadwallon is High Laird of the West Ridings.’ Nihal pronounced the visitor’s name with an emphasis that was somewhere between lofty importance and cool contempt. ‘The lairds of the West Ridings want to forge an allegiance with Blackheath and there will be mutual benefits in regular trade links between our two regions. But, obviously, Duncan is alert to the danger that Cadwallon may have an ulterior motive. There’s a fear that Gethin may want to seize control of Gatekeeper Island. And I have to be constantly vigilant about the threat of dark mages. But all the parties believe a betrothal –’

‘Does this laird look like me?’ Caitrin broke in impatiently.

‘No,’ Nihal admitted. The mage seemed nonplussed by the interruption. ‘Gethin is a swarthy wretch. He’s contemptible, according to all the accounts I’ve heard. But it’s said he employs shape-changers for spies. And, as I said before, your shape would be perfect for this errand because it’s commonly known I have a long-held tenderness for you.’

Again those words made her smile.

‘It wasn’t commonly known to me,’ she murmured.

Her frown returned deeper when she realised there was a fault to the logic of Nihal’s interrogation. ‘But you’ve undressed me,’ she pointed out. ‘You had no idea what I look like naked, so seeing me without clothes wouldn’t prove one way or another that I’m me and not a shape-changer.’

The mage shrugged. ‘True enough. But I’ve always wanted to see you naked and this seemed like the ideal opportunity.’

Before Caitrin’s blushes could deepen, the mage’s wand touched her three times. The first time the silver tip graced the thrust of her right nipple. Caitrin caught her breath and tried to decide whether the silver cap on the bitternut wand was as chilly as winter ice, or possessed the searing burn of a smith’s forge. She couldn’t properly decide whether she was being stung by an extreme of heat or cold. But her body responded with the knowledge that she was enjoying an extreme of some description. She sucked breath and savoured the ripples of pleasure that eddied from her breast to her centre.

The same thrill of excitement rushed through her core as the wand brushed her left nipple. This time she was unable to contain the groan of arousal. She released a heartfelt, throaty purr and regarded Nihal with an expression of undisguised lust.

With the third touch, a soft caress of the silver cap against the lips of her sex, Caitrin realised her body was scaling the heights of ecstasy. She bit her lower lip and stared at the shadow in the centre of the cowl where the mage’s face should have sat. Of all the desires she had harboured since first taking dragon horn, she could not recall a desperate need stronger than the longing she now held for Nihal.

‘Why are you here, Caitrin?’ the mage asked. ‘I command an honest answer. Why are you here?’

‘I was looking for dragon horn.’

‘Dragon horn!’

Nihal’s exclamation was shrill with surprise and outrage. Whatever special connection had been growing between them was rent asunder before the words had finished bouncing from the stone walls of the offices.

‘What the hell would you want with dragon horn, Caitrin? You shouldn’t even know about dragon horn. You certainly won’t find any here. These are respectable offices.’

‘Dragon horn is very nice,’ Caitrin confided.

‘Nice? You’ve tried it?’ Nihal took a wary step backward. The crimson shoulders inside the robe stiffened with indignation. ‘You mean you’re no longer chaste?’

Caitrin giggled. ‘I’ve been chaste and I’ve been caught. That’s not a problem, is it?’

‘You’re no longer a virgin?’

Caitrin frowned. ‘The stories of your superior intelligence weren’t an exaggeration, were they? There’s not a lot slips past the keen observational skills of Nihal the legendary mage from the southernmost –’

‘Fuck!’ Nihal roared. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

If she had been able to control her physical responses, Caitrin would have flinched from the ferocity of the exclamation. Instead she could only stand naked and motionless and tolerate the mage’s fury.

‘No!’ Nihal shrieked. ‘This can’t be happening. Not again.’

The mage suddenly stepped close. One hand encircled Caitrin’s waist. The weight of the velvet robe was a forceful and erotic caress. She caught the fragrant scent of sandalwood and incense that always lingered on the mage’s flesh. It was a sultry combination that now made her inner muscles clench with greedy haste.

A hand pressed between her legs.

The thrill of excitement blossomed between her thighs. The rush of wanton need turned her loins to a fluid heat. From the shadows within the cowled hood she caught a glimpse of the mage’s features. There was a suggestion of high cheekbones, almond eyes and ripe, kissable lips.

Strong inquisitive fingers stroked against her labia.

The desire to be penetrated was sudden and avaricious.

She parted her thighs and grinned as not one but two fingers slipped into the smouldering confines of her wetness. In the stillness of the moment she could hear the soft dewy squelch of the penetration. She imagined she could hear her inner muscles suckling lightly against the cool fingertips that nestled in her warmth. The mage’s touch slipped into her with such ease she murmured, ‘Why don’t you glide a third in there?’

‘Fuck!’ Nihal exclaimed.

The mage tore the fingers from her sex. The exclamation and the action were so pained and unexpected Caitrin stepped back in surprise. With a twinge of sadness she realised that the spell that had been holding her in place was now spent.