Dragon Desire

Broken.

‘What’s wrong?’ Caitrin asked.

‘You’ve lost your innocence,’ Nihal snapped sharply. The mage stepped to the left and then the right. It was the dance of someone harried, perplexed and uncertain. ‘The castellan will be outraged. Heads are going to roll for this.’ With a shrill cry of despair, Nihal added, ‘It’ll probably be my head that rolls for this. Why do you keep doing this, Cait? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

‘Why is my innocence the concern of my father?’

Nihal glared at her. ‘Didn’t you hear what I was saying before? The thane is going to offer your hand to Gethin ap Cadwallon this evening.’

It was a revelation to Caitrin. She was sure that wasn’t something that had been discussed before. She stared at Nihal in disbelief. ‘He’s going to offer my hand?’ She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. ‘He’s going to offer me up for betrothal? To a man with a name I can’t pronounce?’

‘It’s not just you,’ Nihal allowed. ‘Gethin will be allowed to choose between you and your sister.’

‘And that’s supposed to make it better?’

‘I thought you knew.’

Caitrin clutched at the mage. ‘You have to help me,’ she begged. ‘You have to do something to stop this.’

‘I don’t have time,’ Nihal complained. ‘I’m supposed to be casting protection spells around the whole of Blackheath. I’m supposed to scrutinise Gethin ap Cadwallon with my own magicks to make sure he’s not a dark mage and I’ve got to –’

‘You have to do something to stop this,’ Caitrin insisted.

The mage thought for a moment. ‘I can get your virginity back for you.’

‘What?’

‘I can get your virginity back. I have a spell.’ The mage pushed her away and rushed to the south wall to rummage through the books on the shelves. ‘I have a grimoire from the Orient,’ Nihal mumbled. ‘It’s on one of these shelves. I’ve done this for you before.’

‘Why would I want my virginity back?’

Pulling volumes from the shelves, the mage spoke without looking back. ‘If your father marries you to Gethin, and Gethin discovers you’re not a maid, it could prove catastrophic for the fiefdom. It could prove catastrophic for the whole of the North Ridings. Gethin will see it as an insult.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

Nihal shrugged. ‘I don’t make the rules for this sorry excuse for a society. I have enough difficulty following the magicks.’ With a sigh of relief Nihal pulled a large leather-bound tome from a high shelf and said, ‘Here. This is the grimoire. This is the book that holds the spell I need.’

‘You don’t have to –’ Caitrin got no further.

Nihal swiped the bitternut wand in her direction. Further words refused to pass her lips.

‘If I don’t restore your virginity there’ll be war,’ the mage grumbled. ‘Imagine if someone discovered that you’d been naked in my offices this evening. Imagine if someone learnt that I’d had my fingers inside you.’

Imagine if you were to do it again, Caitrin thought dreamily.

She wouldn’t let the idea take hold of her thoughts. She couldn’t even produce the words to tell Nihal that no one would learn of what had happened in the offices from her lips. She could only stand silent and watch as the mage pulled necessary ingredients from the stoppered jars on the walls.

‘Sit here,’ Nihal barked, clearing clutter from the central counter in the middle of the chamber.

Caitrin found herself sitting on one of the mage’s high counters. She hadn’t even been aware that her body had been moving in response to the mage’s instructions.

‘Part your thighs. Drink this.’

A flagon of honeyed wine was thrust into her hand. She sniffed it doubtfully.

‘What’s this?’

‘Wine.’

‘What does it do?’

‘It will get you drunk.’ Nihal was busying collecting ingredients for the spell. ‘Now drink the damned stuff and stop pestering me with stupid questions. Isn’t it enough that I’ve got to mess around to try and remedy all the problems that you’ve already caused?’

She could hear the irritation in the mage’s tone and wished Nihal’s upset didn’t sting. She liked the mage and hadn’t wanted to cause problems. She watched as Nihal alternated between reading from the large leather-bound grimoire and then rushing to find necessary ingredients from the shelves before adding them to a granite mortar.

Warily, she sipped the honeyed wine.

It was a heady elixir of sweetened grapes. From the first taste she knew it would be dangerous to sip any more. It threatened to dissolve her inhibitions and wash away all sense of propriety. Immediately she raised the flagon to her mouth and took another swallow. Her tongue traced softly over the remnants of the taste that lingered against her lips.

With a flourish, Nihal added a final ingredient to the mortar and then began to pound the mix with a pestle. Caitrin studied the mage’s stiff shoulders, sensing the urgency in each movement, and wondering why the mage would go to such lengths just to protect her reputation. She would have asked the question if she could have seen the mage’s face. But, even when Nihal turned to anoint her with the mix, Caitrin could only see shadows that concealed the depths of the hooded crimson cowl.

‘Sahasrara,’ Nihal intoned.

A splash of chilly oil touched the top of Caitrin’s head and she struggled not to shiver. The word sounded deliciously strange and foreign and she wanted to give herself to the echoes of excitement it seemed to suggest.

‘Anja,’ Nihal said, daubing another wet splash between Caitrin’s brows.

The movement made her close her eyes. In that moment she saw a world coloured only by a rush of rich royal purple.

‘Vishudda,’ the mage added, touching oily fingertips against the rise of Caitrin’s throat.

The caress was soft and subtle and disturbingly exciting. The sheen of viscous wetness that made the fingers slippery was how she expected Nihal’s sexual caress to feel. Her nipples had been stiff before. Now they ached with the need to be teased and suckled by the mage’s hungry mouth. As much as Caitrin wanted to purge that idea from her thoughts, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining Nihal’s mouth suckling against her bared breasts. The idea made her sigh with need.

‘Anahata,’ Nihal whispered.

Anahata, Caitrin agreed, not knowing what the word might mean.

Fingers pressed at her sternum. Although there was nothing acutely sexual about the caress, Caitrin knew that the mage’s touch could have gone to either of her breasts. She held her breath wondering whether or not the mage would be so bold as to touch her in the way she desired. If she had been allowed the chance to speak she would have begged to have the fat tips of her nipples squeezed.

‘Manipura,’ Nihal said, sliding his fingers downward.

Caitrin trembled.

The mage’s fingertips inched through the neatly shorn curls above her sex and delved toward the moist lips of her labia. She drew a slow shuddering breath.

‘Swadhisthana,’ Nihal grunted.

Fingers touched the sensitive flesh between her thighs.