The happiest of Wednesdays to you all. I'm super excited today and bouncing around like a loon, because it's RELEASE DAY for The Dragon in the Stone!
*bounce, bounce, bounce*
Can you tell I'm excited? *grins*
For today's tease, I've gone right to the beginning of the story. I thought you might like to see what Lord Drorgan was like way back then, and the actions that got him cursed into the stone.
Prince Atlan’s Wedding Feast
The doors to the great hall swung open with so much force they bounced off the castle walls. A castle that had withstood countless attacks, yet that very stone turned to dust under the wrath of Lord Drorgan. His presence was most unwelcome at the wedding of her beloved brother, the heir to the throne.
Perched as she was under the table to retrieve the goblet of wine she had dropped moments earlier, Princess Lasiandra didn’t need her governess’s warning hand on her shoulder to stay put. The air seemed sucked out of her lungs, out of the very room. The music stopped as abruptly as those doors signaled their protector’s—or as Lasiandra called him their menace’s—presence.
All she could see from her vantage point and through the crack where the tablecloths didn’t quite meet the ground were the lord’s boots. Dust marred the fine black leather, handcrafted to mold to muscular calves, and carrying his unmistakable crest. A sleeping dragon curled on its side.
Never wake the dragon.
Everyone in their kingdom was taught that simple, terrifying diktat from the cradle, and Princess Lasiandra had been no different. Just like her brother, however, she had grown to resent that statement. She couldn’t fight like Atlan did, wasn’t allowed to openly flaunt convention like her brother had done when he’d refused to invite Lord Drorgan to his wedding, but she had other means.
Ancient power and wisdom flowed through her veins, and standing at the cusp of impending womanhood as she was, she had never felt stronger or less stable.
“Lord Drorgan, what a pleasure to see you.”
Her father’s voice trembled slightly, and a gasp went through the parting crowd as those menacing boots advanced toward the raised platform that held her father’s throne.
“I would be inclined to believe you, had I received an invite to this … wedding.”
That voice alone seemed to send the fear of God into the assembled crowd, because ladies shrieked and a stampede of feet kicked up the dust off the stone floor, as the assembled guests rapidly sought their escape. Not that they got very far. With a flick of his hand, the huge doors flung shut, taking off the arm of one of the fleeing men in the process. The limb slid to the floor, leaving a smear of blood behind. Its previous owner’s high pitched wail of pain made the fine hair on Lasiandra’s exposed arms stand to attention, and she hastily swallowed the bile collecting in the back of her throat, when she saw the dark pool of liquid appear from under the door. The severed arm twitched, the hands flexing in a pathetic show of previous life, seemingly pointing toward the man—no, the monster—who had caused this.
The restraining hand on her shoulder drew blood as Lasiandra tried to pull away, but heedless of the pain, she yanked free and struggled to her feet, just in time to see the imposing figure of Lord Drorgan throw back his head and laugh. It wasn’t a merry sound, but an evil one, as dark magic surrounded them all, and threatened to pull Lasiandra, too, over to the other side.
Straightening, she swallowed hard, fear for her brother churning her insides. Her beautiful, golden haired brother, who stepped in front of his bride and his father, sword drawn to defend what was his.
“That’s because you weren’t invited, Drorgan. You are not welcome at my wedding, and this kingdom does not need your protection. We never did.”
Brave, yet foolish words, which would get Atlan killed as surely as night followed day, unless Lasiandra did something.
Drorgan laughed again, running a hand over his harsh features, and Lasiandra stopped in her tracks, when his piercing blue gaze settled on her. His brows drew together in a frown, and heat licked at her skin, under the sheer force of his gaze. The flames of his dragon lit up his eyes, pulling her under his spell. It took all of Lasiandra’s own powers to break free, to stop the probing into her mind, into her very soul. Dragons held powerful magic, and this one was the most powerful of them all. Men and women alike bent to his will, and if the stories were to be believed he ruined whoever he touched, his heart as black as the night sky and utterly incapable of compassion, let alone love.
“Who have we here? Such a fine young maiden, you’ve been holding out on me, King Atta.”
Before her father, who seemed to have aged ten years since Drorgan’s arrival, could say anything, Atlan intervened.
“My sister is none of your concern. Besides, she is just a child. Even one as depraved as you would not force himself on children.”
A murmur went through the crowd at the inherent insult in those words. King Atta winced and shook his head at Atlan, not that her hotheaded brother paid his sovereign father any heed.
Drorgan smiled, showing an even set of teeth, and a brief flare of amusement replaced the fire licking at his blue spheres.
“Depraved, you say?” He inclined his head in a mock bow and flicked a speck of dust of his dark tunic.
Dressed all in black as he was, he made an imposing figure, from the impossible width of his shoulders, the bulging biceps, down to the slim hips, shapely ass, and tree trunk thighs, which he now spread aside, while crossing his arms over his wide chest.
Lasiandra noticed the man’s attributes with detached observance. No wonder the women fell at his feet, and much to her secret horror, her brother’s new wife seemed no exception. The daft woman’s cheeks turned crimson and her breathing sped up when Drorgan settled his gaze on her. Stepping out from behind Atlan’s back she seemed utterly unable to tear her eyes away from Drorgan’s groin, and some of Atlan’s fighting stance fled when he noticed his wife’s reaction to the other man.
“I shall show you how depraved I can be, shall I, you insolent pup?” In the blink of an eye he moved, and when the dust settled he had Atlan’s wife in his arms, kissing her. Rather than fighting him off, the silly female clung to his tall frame as though she was a vine, or maybe that should be a hideous sea creature, all arms and legs, making slobbery noises that made Lasiandra want to gag. Grown-ups were so disgusting in their mating rituals.
It had been bad enough coming across one of the stable boys rutting into one of the kitchen maids yesterday. The sight of his cock disappearing into the girl’s cunt in much the same way as her father’s stallion impregnated the mares…
Lasiandra shook herself remembering that scene. To keep her powers she would have to remain untouched, which was just fine by her.
Atlan’s face flushed with rage, and the hold on his sword grew white knuckled as he raised it ready to strike.
“Get your filthy hands off my wife.” Atlan’s shout brought an end to the disgusting display, to a degree anyway. Drorgan lifted his head, his lips shiny from the kisses he’d shared with Atlan’s wife. The woman gasped when he ripped her bodice. Her breasts fell free, and Atlan ground his teeth in an audible crunch, seeing Drorgan grasp each rosy nipple. He twisted the small points, eliciting a deep throated moan from Lasiandra’s new sister-in-law, which only served to enrage Atlan further. Gathering up her skirts, Lasiandra flew across the stone floor, and hands on her brother’s chest stopped him from advancing on a smirking Drorgan.
“Don’t, Atlan. It’s what he wants. He’ll kill you.”
Penance needs to be paid come what may…
Several Centuries ago Drorgan was cursed into stone. Every twenty five years he is given one night and one day to find the woman willing to accept him in both forms.
It's the price to pay for his past behavior.
As a lost, lonely little girl Rhonda Butterbaugh was rescued by the dragon in the stone and she has never forgotten her fierce protector. It sparked her fascination with all things dragon. If only they were real. There are no such things as fairytales, however.
When she is attacked on her way home, and wakes up in a cursed magic castle, complete with a fierce dragon shifting lord, her life takes a turn for the surreal.
Determined to break the curse and rescue Drorgan and his kin, she hasn’t counted on Drorgan’s resistance.
Dragons aren’t supposed to be noble.
Get it from Evernight Amazon ARe Bookstrand
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Til next time, and do stay naughty, folks.