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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, 
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resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, 
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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 

 

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reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in 
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Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya 
Publications, 2003 

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Queen of Dragons 

Sorceress Seduction 

 

 

A 
blue and gold banner emblazoned with a 
clawing white lion snapped in the wind above 
the War Dukes 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 Dukes 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, shes magnificent! 

Where in the seven Hells did the Boar find her? 
one of the captains exclaimed. 

The War Duke narrowed his eyes. I cant tell what 
family she comes from, her shield is too smeared with 
blood to see whats on it. She has to come from good 
family, though, I think thats 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. 

Thats not a woman. Thats 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 
Dukes 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 dragons 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 dancers 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 Dukes 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 Dukes 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 
morrows 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 womans 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 wasnt 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 Dukes eyes. You poor bastard. 
You should see what happened to her last one. 

Where are my men? the War Duke snarled. 

Without you, theyll fall to my troops at dawn. If I 
were you, Id 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 wasnt 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 
couldnt 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 Dukes 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 passions 


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 ecstasys 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 didnt 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 bodys 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 wasnt wearing a suit of gilded armor; it 
was an enchanted skin. 

By all thats holylet 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 dragons 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 couldnt 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 
couldnt 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 
hadnt 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. 

Youre clean, he said softly. 

It is the blood that feeds the dragons 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 dragons soul. The skin 
responds to the ruby. 

He lightly touched his throat and discovered a 
stone lodged there. 

That is your dragons 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 
couldnt quite identify. To be more than merely 
human? He smiled. Somehow I just dont 
understand the attraction. He raised a brow 
sarcastically. 

Come, I have promises to keep, and a need to see 
the color of the Boars 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? Youre 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 
sorcerers 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 Dukes 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 Boars 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 Boars armor in long smooth slices without a trace 
of resistance. A joyous red haze slid across the War 
Dukes 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 Wyverns 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 bodys 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 cant 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 dont 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 
others 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 dragons 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 dragons 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, 
toobut 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. 

~*~ 

 


