Dragonfae & The Soul Catcher Read online

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  Dragonfae & The Soul Catcher

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-220-1

  ©Copyright H.C. Brown 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.

  This story contains 215 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.

  Dragonfae

  DRAGONFAE & THE SOUL CATCHER

  H.C. Brown

  Book one in the Dragonfae series

  After finding a dragon shape-shifter trapped in a magyck circle, Thalia succumbs to the erotic pull of this ethereal being. She must confront her fear of men and help Lumos, the Dragonfae, find his way home.

  Thalia of Broclarre’s life deteriorates into chaos from the moment King Garro blames her for the queen’s death. Branded a Soul Catcher, brutalised by the king’s guards, and banished with her cat, Brew, she fights for survival in the Singing Forest. Each night she sings to her dream lover, the Nightdragon, to come to her.

  Lumos’ life is wonderful. His bed is never empty. Many faeries flock to pamper the delicious Dragonfae before he meets the challenger for the rule of Drakka in a fight to the death. Each day is bliss until his alter ego, the Nightdragon, hears the Dragonsong of his mate. Lumos, now consumed with love for the girl who haunts his dreams, leaves Drakka to search for Thalia.

  Unbeknown to Lumos, the evil Magus of Fullmount used Thalia’s song to lure the Dragonfae away from Drakka and the challenge. Trapped in a magyck circle without his powers or the ability to shift into the Nightdragon, Lumos is helpless. He has to use all his masculine charms to convince the terrified Thalia to trust him.

  If Lumos misses the challenge, Drakka will fall into the hands of the Magus. Is Lumos’ love for his terrified mate strong enough to repair the damaged Thalia? Creatures from the Darkside block them at every turn. Will Thalia trust Lumos enough to fight by his side and help him return to Drakka in time for the challenge? Or will she run screaming from the handsome Fae who morphs into the Nightdragon?

  Dedication

  To Gary and Veronica.

  Chapter One

  Drakka

  Lumos stretched on the soft sheet, the delectable taste of Lucinda lingered on his tongue. He licked his bottom lip. The heavy scent of feminine arousal caused his cock to fill, igniting an urgency to take her again. Gods, of late, no female satisfied him for long. Tomorrow I will invite those sweet things visiting from Draconia to my bed. He smiled into the darkness, enjoying the languid weightlessness from a night of indulgent sex. Under his palm, the female’s belly quivered at his touch, the Faerie’s peach-fuzz skin an erotic delight. Raised up on one elbow, he gazed at Lucinda. Moonlight bathed her body, turning her sweat-soaked skin into the finest alabaster. The Faerie held her lips in a swollen pout. Her long, platinum hair stuck to her cheeks, and spilled down her back to curl around her heart-shaped bottom. Lumos skimmed a path to Lucinda’s pert breast and fondled the Faerie’s rosy nipple.

  I am insatiable. Gods, he had enjoyed the pleasure of three Faeries this eve before Lucinda had demanded his undivided attention. All had come to his bed to ease the worry of the upcoming battle—the Nightdragon would soon have to defend the kingdom of Drakka with a fight to the death.

  He bent to suckle the cherry tip. I have over six months and many sweet Faeries to bed before I meet Kird. The dragon inside him stirred. The connection boomed in Lumos’ mind. The voice of the Nightdragon disturbed his thoughts.

  “Lumos, put aside your lust and listen.”

  Lumos lifted his head. No sound echoed through the stillness of the palace. “Listen to what? Go back to sleep, I’ll not have you disturb my rest.”

  “We are not asleep.” The Nightdragon pushed harder against Lumos’ consciousness. “Do you think I sleep while you indulge your lust? In truth, I find it quite intoxicating, although I do not experience any pleasure.’ The dragon chuckled. ‘Now I have your attention, do listen. Can you not hear the melody carried from afar?”

  With a grunt, Lumos turned his head and caught a lilting song as if carried on the breeze, yet no wind brushed his face. The voice, female, alluring, curled around Lumos’ heart in a lover’s embrace. Flames of wicked, sensual delight licked up the inside of his thighs to caress his balls. Gods, what is happening to me? Gasping, he sat on the edge of the bed. His mind filled with a sweet gentle voice.

  “Dragon of the moon, I see your shadow as you search the night.

  Come to me, with skin of darkness, eye of green.

  Take me—honour me, for I am yours.

  I beg you, Nightdragon, save me from my plight.”

  The dragon inside him roared. Smoke poured from Lumos’ nostrils. He slid from the bed and strolled to the balcony. The hint of a breeze cooled his heated skin. Turning his head to catch the melodic tones of an angel, he gazed far into the distance. “What is that? The song befuddles my brain, yet is strangely compelling. Gods, I think I’m dying of pleasure.”

  Far in the distance, the female’s voice continued to seduce him with deep longing. A desire like no other compelled him to rush to her side.

  “Lust consumes me. What is this song, dragon?”

  “It is the Dragonsong. Fly, Lumos, set me free.”

  Lumos unfurled his wings, confused by his dragon’s request. “The Dragonsong is a myth, some trick to lure us from Drakka.”

  “No, Lumos, this is no falsehood. Our mate calls to us, and every second we waste arguing, her song drifts out of reach. If I take to the sky, I may be able to determine which direction to take.” The Nightdragon brushed against Lumos’ mind. “Fly now.”

  “I think you are mistaken but I will do as you wish.” Urgency, anticipation and joy shimmered through Lumos from his dragon. He took a deep breath and leapt into the air. The song replayed, dancing on the breeze. His heart clenched with recognition. Somewhere deep inside a connection formed and a name slammed hard into his mind. Thalia.

  How could a simple song cause such a reaction? His inner dragon acted on instinct and Lumos relied on the beast’s judgement. He opened his wings, moving swiftly away from the palace. Heat burned his flesh. The dragon clawed at his mind.

  “Set me free.”

  In a burst of white magyck, the Nightdragon exploded into the darkness and soared into the sky. With a flap of black velvet wings, the demanding beast circled the kingdom of Drakka. The Nightdragon’s ears strained, twisting this way and that, to pick up the direction of the song. Th
e beast’s roars of frustration echoed through the empty streets. Lumos stared down at the rows of houses. His people lived in trepidation of the coming challenge.

  Have no fear, good people of Drakka, I will give my life to protect you.

  Through his dragon’s sight, Lumos watched as if he was a visitor in this massive body. Everything appeared smaller from such a distance. Indeed, the palace resembled a child’s toy. The dragon distinguished all things living by auras of different colours. The display of brilliant hues lit the Drakkan nightscape with a rainbow of life.

  The Nightdragon accelerated, leaving the city far behind. He searched in a wide arc for the origin of the elusive song. Exhilarated with the power of his alter ego, Lumos wanted to stay in dragon form forever. The strength of the dragon surged through him, all earthly bounds dropped away, and he became one with the Nightdragon in the search for their mate.

  The song faded, the last strains hanging for a moment of bliss in the night air. Defeated, the dragon rose through the clouds to pay homage to the moon. With air filling his massive wings, the Nightdragon glided down to perch on the highest peak. As the beast scrambled for purchase, his curved talons ripped at the rock face, dislodging boulders. The ensuing landslide thundered down the mountainside, crashing into the valley below and sending up great plumes of dust. The Nightdragon opened his massive maw and roared in anguish. White-hot flames poured from his snout and blasted the rock face, melting the granite into a shimmer of white crystal. The Nightdragon’s distress rippled through Lumos.

  “I have failed to find the origin of the song.”

  “Then it is the gods’ will. Cymbeline will guide us to our mate when the time is right.” Lumos had not intended to take a mate, not yet. Indeed, he enjoyed the company of as many Faeries as he chose. Drakka would surely fall if he fell beneath a mate’s spell before the challenge. Gods, he had no time for such things. “I admit the song intrigued me, yet as it faded, so did the desire.”

  “Our mate’s song travelled from far beyond the reaches of our realm and yet her voice consumed you with sexual euphoria. No female will satisfy you now.” The Nightdragon lifted his head to gaze into the endless sky. “The goddess gives us but one mate, Lumos.”

  With a snort, Lumos languished in the memory of his night of passion. Although much to his chagrin, the Dragonsong had filled him with erotic delight. What if the dragon spoke the truth and, after this night, he would have no desire for another female?

  “I don’t have time to look for a mate, dragon. In case it slipped your notice, we have to fight for Drakka in six months’ time. I have no doubt the challenge came from a Dragonfae influenced by dark magyck. Have you any idea how many young Dragonfae have fallen foul of the Magus’ potion of late? How do you know this isn’t another of that foul wizard’s plans to make me stray off course?”

  “The Magus of Fullmount may well be able to fool a young Dragon but not me.” The dragon snorted with anger. “I have the blood of the ancients.”

  Lumos considered the dragon’s words. “Gods, if you are correct, our mate could be a thousand realms away, and as many years to find.”

  “Ahh, Lumos, do you believe our mate will not sing again?” The Nightdragon slipped from the top of the mountain and dropped into a thermal current to hover above the city.

  “Perhaps, but how will that help if she is a thousand realms away?”

  “Don’t worry, our mate will call to us again soon. She is our chosen one and sings only for us, Lumos.” The Nightdragon chuckled. You must hope she waits to sing again until after the challenge for Drakka.

  “Why?”

  “The Dragonsong is a mate’s claim and one we cannot refuse, Lumos. It is the will of the gods.” The Nightdragon let out a triumphant roar. “If it takes a thousand years, I will find her.”

  * * * *

  The Kingdom of Broclarre

  Thalia of Broclarre struggled against the guards, her movements as useless as a sparrow in the mouth of a cat. Her shoulders burned, tendons stretched to the limit and threatened to rip from bones. These men cared less if they tore her arms from the sockets. The hard-faced soldiers, gripping her so cruelly, were unfamiliar and not the usual palace protectors. These men wore the uniform of the king’s elite militia.

  “I banish you from the kingdom of Broclarre, never again to set foot in my kingdom by threat of death.” King Garro lifted his chin, sitting back on the golden throne. “So have I declared this day, so shall it be done.”

  Out in the hallway, an angry crowd had gathered to hear the king’s proclamation. The masses had fallen silent to stand waiting like buzzards over a fallen lamb. One of the guards restraining Thalia swore under his breath, and dug his strong fingers cruelly into her arms.

  She yelped and turned to face her father.

  “Banished?” She stared at Garro. “Father…please…what have I done to displease you so?”

  “Speak no more, witch. Think not to cast a spell over me for I know your wickedness.” King Garro struggled to his feet. His hand rested on the hilt of the gold dagger at his waist. “I took you into my house, treated you as my own, and you repaid me with death.”

  Aghast, Thalia gaped at her father in disbelief. “Is that what you believe…? That I had a hand in killing the queen?” She stared at the king’s ashen face, the lines around his mouth cut deep, turning his expression bleak. Had he lost his mind with grief?

  Beside him, the High Priest stood erect, his lips curled in a vicious smile. Thalia glared at the man in the crisp white robes. “Did you fill the king’s mind with these lies? I would never hurt Mother.” She met her father’s daunting expression. “I could never hurt anyone. I am a healer. Ask anyone in the village, I help people.” She pointed at the High Priest. “There! There is the evil in this palace.”

  “To think my dear wife had compassion for your sorry soul.” Garro shook his head slowly. “Her belief that a wholesome upbringing would prevent the evil magyck rising in a demon’s seed was the error of a gentle, childless woman.” The king ran a hand over his face. “And she paid with her life.” His black gaze travelled over Thalia, and he gave a snort of disgust. “No more will you breathe the same air as my people.” He punched a fist into the palm of his hand. “If I had not given my word to uphold Bria’s dying wish to set you free, I would have your head this day.”

  Pain tightened Thalia’s heart. Confused, she met the king’s enraged expression. The man’s piercing blue eyes looked on her with contempt, disgust and hatred. The only father she had ever known curled his large hands into fists. This angry man had once loved her, had taught her how to hold a bow, and gentle a horse. Gods help me, now he wants me dead.

  Overwhelmed by grief she drew a shuddering breath. Tears stung her eyes. With effort she bit back the sobs threatening to break forth and lifted her chin. “Aye, Father, indeed I do have the magyck. If you had seen your way to allow me to treat Queen Bria’s illness, instead of locking me in the East Wing, she would not have died.”

  “Do not utter her name, witch. My queen was not your mother.” Spittle formed in the corner of King Garro’s mouth. “You… You unholy spawn of the devil were born of the forest and considered so evil your own blood left you to die. Had we known then the meaning of the name marked on your garments, you would have been left to the wolves.” King Garro grimaced. The rich, red cloak bearing his colours swirled around his legs with each agitated step. “Aye, we all heard you sing to the dragon, no doubt to use the beast’s magyck to hasten the death of my queen.” He dropped his head, defeated. “Too late…too late, to save her innocent life but at least she sleeps in peace now.” Garro swiped a tear from his cheek. “Thank the gods I secured you in the East Wing. Did you think I would allow you to practise magyck on my sweet Bria and send her innocent soul to the Underworld?” He stepped menacingly closer to Thalia and met her gaze. “Aye… I know what you are and why your people left you to die. You are a Soul Catcher. I know of your magyck and vow you will never again use you
r evil spells on my people—not as long as I live.” He slid the dagger from a jewelled scabbard at his waist and waved it in front of Thalia’s face. “Speak no more or I will remove your tongue myself.” With a curt nod to the guards, he turned, and with a swirl of red robes strode from the great hall. The echo of his retreating footsteps sealed her fate.

  Disbelief slammed into Thalia. She fought back the desire to scream. The mortifying sadness of losing her mother paled into insignificance. A wave of desolation consumed her—nothing she could do or say would change the king’s mind now. The man had delivered her into the hands of a vicious group of guards. Thalia took in the smirking faces of the men and made a silent vow. I will survive this injustice and one day I’ll prove my innocence.

  Thrust towards the massive, studded oak doors, Thalia stumbled. The crowd cramming the hallway roared and the air filled with the stink of the unwashed. She fell onto the cold flagstones and sprawled on the ground. On impact, pain shot from her scraped hands and knees. She dragged in a breath, her lungs empty from the fall. People crowded around her—her people—the familiar faces distorted with hatred. Someone aimed a kick at her ribs and a dirty boot crushed her fingertips. She cried out in pain, cradling the throbbing fingers against her chest. A trickle of sweat slid down her back. Fear curled in her belly. They will tear me to shreds. The gods help me.

  “Burn the witch. Burn the witch.” The chant echoed through the corridors of the great palace.

  Tomatoes and rotten vegetables splattered Thalia’s back. A sharp stone hit her cheek. She blinked at the crimson drops of blood staining the floor and swiped at the stream tickling her face. A night soil bucket crashed to the ground close to her head. The stained, metal container tipped, splashing the contents over her in a wave of brown fluid. She gagged at the acrid stink and bile filled her mouth. The crowd cheered in approval. She gathered up her stained silk gown and rose to her knees. The dirt and soil ground into open wounds. Looking into the hatred before her, she opened her arms wide.