Allyson James- (Anthology- Dreams of the Oasis I), Dragon Magic.pdf

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JAWS ready.
D RAGONMAGIC
Allyson James
Chapter One
Arys felt his dragon body turn inside out, then there was a bright light and he was standing,
naked, on two human legs inside a cozy, one-room cottage.
“Damn witch,” he growled at the voluptuous woman bent over the fire. “What do you want
now?”
The witch Clymenestra stood up calmly, eyeing him with her usual smugness. Arys was tall,
with bronze-colored skin over hard muscle, waist-length white-blond hair, and dragon silver eyes.
Clymenestra looked him over like she owned him.
The bitch knew his true name and could call him from Dragonspace anytime she liked. Not
forever, darling, he thought. Not forever.
“I need dragon’s blood,” she said, letting her gaze rove his body.
“Always blood. What is your spell this time?”
“Never you mind.” She looked at him with dark, possessive eyes. “I hold you, dragon, and
you’ll give me your blood.” She smiled. “I’m always willing to pay for it.”
He knew her thighs were wet with her cream, her opening hot, anticipating. Arys’ cock was
already swollen and hard, standing straight out from his body. His long hair warmed his back, but
his arms prickled with cold in the night air. Human skin was too damn thin.
Clymenestra had bound him to her with the magic of his namebut one day, one day, he’d be
free. He knew the secret of his freedom, she didn’t.
“So you called me all the way from Dragonspace for a drop of blood?” he growled. “I was
deep in important business.”
“Two drops. And you were lying on your back in the snow, sunning yourself. Silver dragons
are the laziest things in creation.”
Arys didn’t deny this. In his dragon form, he lived to eat and hoard and mate as often as
possible. He also worked his own kind of magic, which was lightning fast, like a fiery needle in his
brain.
He loved dragon magic. Human magic was too much like work.
He watched the witch gather up the ingredients for her spell, checking and double-checking
the cracked parchment book spread out on her wooden table. She ground herbs with a mortar and
pestle, her muscles working as she smashed the herbs into a paste.
So much effort simply to work one little spell. Of course, her tedious magic worked on Arys
she could yank him from the dragon world whenever she wished.
But all human magic required a price. Arys picked up a knife, eager to get on with her
payment. “Ready?”
She ground a few moments longer, then set aside her pestle. “Ready.”
He quickly sliced his palm and let two drops of blood fall into the bowl she held out. Magic
gathered and danced above it, faint magic, not very strong.
He peered into the bowl, seeing nothing more than green bits of leaf stained dark with blood.
“Is that it?”
“No. I need more.”
He frowned and held out his hand again. “More blood?”
“Not from you. I need a maiden.”
“A maiden? What for?”
Clymenestra looked up at him, impatient. “Never mind, I said. I need maiden’s blood. So I
want you to bring me a maiden.”
His blood was pumping hard with lust, his mind barely registering the odd request. “Right
now?”
She looked him over, from the top of his head to the soles of his bare feet. “Maybe later.”
“Good.” He closed his hand, annoyed at the tiny pain of the cut. Dragon hide was so much
tougher than human skin.
Clymenestra put down the bowl as Arys approached her. Her dark eyes went completely
black as her excitement mounted.
Arys grabbed the top of her loose dress and ripped it open. She was naked underneathof
course, she’d be ready. Her breasts were firm and upright, the nipples round and dark. Her taut
belly held a jewel in its navel. Beneath that, her quim curved between her legs, a shimmer of pale
hair twisting through it.
Arys tossed the dress aside, snaked his hand through her hair, and forced her to her knees.
Clymenestra’s eyes widened with joy as she closed her mouth around his enormous cock and
began to suck.
* * * * *
A witch’s lot is to be exiledto live far from others. The words echoed in Naida’s mind as she
stopped on the path through the woods to catch her breath again.
What kept her going, and kept her from despair, was the excitement of finally confronting her
rising latent powers. At least, she thought they were rising latent powers. Hence, her journey to
Clymenestra to seek the witch’s opinion.
Or, Naida thought, I might just be insane.
In that case, I can sit comfortably by the fire and talk to myself while others bring me cups of
tea. She grimaced, her sense of humor no longer comforting her.
But she knew the words that called power to her. She’d known the right moment to grab
Farmer Beluh and yank him from his barn. The roof had groaned and fallen in a second later.
When her father’s lamb had been born dead, suffocated in its struggle to enter the world,
she’d called the words to push air back into its lungs. The lamb had shaken its head, climbed to its
newborn feet and bleated for its mother.
These occurrences could be dismissed as coincidence or luckshe might have heard the
timbers of the barn creaking just in time, and when she pushed on the lamb’s chest, she might have
encouraged its lungs to not give up.
She could have dismissed the events except she hadn’t heard the timbers, she had only
touched the lamb, and she had the dreams.
The dreams were so vivid that afterward, the waking world seemed sluggish and not real. In
her sleep, white-hot power called to her and frightened her. She could not recall details of the
dreams when she awoke, but she remembered pain and elation, and she always woke very
aroused.
Her quim would be creamy wet, her opening burning. She’d have to press her hands hard
against herself until she found release. She muffled her sounds in the pillows, lest she wake her
sisters and brothers, who slept with her in the loft of her father’s farmhouse.
After her release came and dark joy receded to sweet lethargy, she couldn’t resist putting her
fingers to her mouth, tasting the wild flavor of her own come.
She loved the dreams, yet feared them. She wanted the power that called to her, though she
knew she’d lose everything to get it.
Naida held her side as she climbed the hill to the house in the clearing. Or maybe, she
reminded herself, I’m just insane.
She reached Clymenestra’s cottage, a cozy white-washed affair with a well-kept thatched roof.
The men of the village would do anything for Clymenestra, freely. Clymenestra never paid in coin
or eggs or hens, though she would occasionally do a spell to heal. Naida never knew why, and the
men would not speak of it.
Naida’s palms went slick with sweat as she neared the door. What would Clymenestra say?
Would she smile and be glad that Naida was now a witch? Or would she laugh and tell Naida that
she simply liked to touch herself under the quilts after her dreams?
But she had to know.
Naida lifted her hand to knock, then dropped it. She had never been to Clymenestra’s cottage
and did not know what to expect.
A well-stocked window box hung from the tiny window next to the door, holding scented
five-pointed summer flowers. Naida gripped the box and rose on her toes to look through the
window’s thick pane.
What she saw inside made her gulp with shock and lose her balance. She grabbed at the
window box to stay upright, feeling splinters drive into her fingers.
Clymenestra, her thick blonde hair caught in a knot at the nape of her neck, knelt before a
huge man who stood in front of her, naked.
The man had silver-blond hair that hung down to just above his backside. His hair shimmered
like true silver, glittering and beautiful. His hips were narrow, taut with muscle, what she could
see of his backside a pleasing curve. His chest was sculpted muscle, as though he’d been chiseled
by the goddess in bone and sinew. He clenched his fists, knotting biceps that gleamed with his
sweat in the firelight.
Naida could see his cock, which was enormous, thick and long. The end of it rested in
Clymenestra’s mouth, and she was happily suckling it.
Something dark fluttered in Naida’s belly. The man’s face was square, sharp, and a little odd-
looking, but most attractive. Not handsome, but fierce and hard, and his eyes…
His eyes were breathtaking. They were silver and large, luminous with their own light. While
she stood, gaping, he turned his head and his silver gaze rested right on her.
Her heart banged in her chest. He saw her, and he smiled. His grin was infectious, tugging at
her, telling her that he liked her watching and invited her to continue.
She couldn’t have looked away if she tried.
Clymenestra’s tongue laved his cock all over. Seeing the huge thing stuck in Clymenestra’s
mouth, and the man’s balls drawn hard and tight, made Naida’s knees shake.
She wanted to slide her hand under her dress and touch herself like she did in bed. Never
mind she was outside and very rudely watching what was meant to be private between
Clymenestra and her
Her what? Lover? Husband? Was he another witch? He certainly looked like no man she’d
ever seen before.
He placed a hand on Clymenestra’s forehead and abruptly withdrew himself from her mouth.
“No,” Naida heard Clymenestra plead through the glass. “I want to swallow you.”
“Later,” he said. He had a rumbling bass voice, a powerful man’s voice. It also held a hint of
something elsesomething wild and hot, and why did she think of flying?
He snatched a piece of cloth from the bed, wrenched Clymenestra to her feet, and tied the
cloth around her eyes, blindfolding her.
The witch gasped with excitement. Her hands went to her bare nipples, fingers squeezing
them. Naida knew exactly what Clymenestra felt, the same sense of aliveness Naida experienced
every night in her dreams.
But Naida thought she knew why the man had blindfolded Clymenestra. He didn’t want
Clymenestra to see Naida at the window.
He wanted Naida to stay and watch, and didn’t want Clymenestra to grow angry and send
Naida away.
That he wanted Naida to watch him made her more excited still. Why should he want me to?
she wondered.
He did, though. He guided Clymenestra to the edge of the low trestle bed and pushed her
down on her back. As Clymenestra fell willingly, he grabbed a piece of twine from her worktable
and used it to bind her hands in front of her.
Clymenestra offered no peep of protest. She squirmed on the bed, smiling, aroused and needy.
The silver-haired man climbed onto the bed, hovering over her on hands and knees. He
yanked Clymenestra’s thighs apart and bent down, opening his mouth over her cunt.
Naida squeezed the flowerbox, her own quim pulsing. She imagined his tongue on her,
imagined feeling the hot slice going inside her where only her fingers had ever been. It would be
the sweetest heaven.
Clymenestra writhed beneath his mouth. The witch’s naked body was shapely and beautiful;
Naida thought of her own softer limbs with some regret. Clymenestra reached for the man, but
was hampered by her bonds. She moaned.
The man licked and licked, his hands spreading Clymenestra’s legs as wide as they could go.
Naida wanted desperately to touch herself, to make her fingers do what the man’s tongue did
to Clymenestra. But if she lost her grip on the flowerbox, she’d fall and miss everything. She bit
her lip and squeezed her legs together tighter, tighter.
Clymenestra screamed. She bumped on the bed, wriggling and moaning, her face twisted in
ecstasy.
The man backed away. He grasped Clymenestra’s hips and flipped her over, facedown. He
lifted her hips, pulled her back toward him, then rammed his very long cock straight into her
waiting quim.
It was raw, brutal sex. The man pumped into her, his hips working, broad hands brown on
Clymenestra’s white hips. Clymenestra went on screaming.
The man continued a long time, stroking her, fucking her, while Naida held on to the
flowerbox, her eyes wide, watching hungrily.
The man threw his head back and groaned as he came. Clymenestra’s screams had wound
into breathy moans by this time.
He pumped a few more times, then withdrew.
Clymenestra collapsed on the bed. The man stood above her, breathing hard, his cock still
rampant, wet and glistening.
“Oh,” Clymenestra moaned. “Arys.”
He glanced over at the window, brawny shoulders moving, and he winked.
With a sudden wrench, the flowerbox came away from the wall. Naida stifled a shriek as she

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