Dane

Prologue

Sunlight poked through the cracks of the window shutters; glittering rays dancing across the tower room floor's cold grey stones. Fioraluna hadn't opened the shutters, unable to stand the sight of another perfect day. The scene would be the same as always—the tall grass in the field rolling and swaying in the breeze as well as the deep green forest that spread beyond. The trees always danced and whispered amongst themselves making Fioraluna envy them. They were surrounded by their own kind and never lonely.

Not like her. Fioraluna only knew her mama. Outside her window, she would sometimes catch glimpses of wildlife, and if she were lucky enough, once every few years, humans brave enough to chance mama's wrath to appease their curiosity about the castle ruins.

Fioraluna tried to sigh, but couldn't quite get enough breath into her starving lungs. The brace mama insisted she wear to keep her abnormal swelling down pinched her hips and constricted her ribs. It hurt.

With a cry of anger, she tore at her golden frock, peeling it down to her knees, and unlaced her brace.

The cool damp air of the tower caressed her naked upper body, making her nipples peak tightly. Tossing the offending brace aside, Fioraluna rubbed the ache, letting her head fall back with relief. Rubbing always felt nice...pinching too. The sharp little sting of pain made her feel alive, made the area between her thighs ache. Fioraluna's fingertips closed on her nipples slowly and hesitated.

If mama saw her, she'd beat Fioraluna, call her naughty. Mama said that touching her body was what had made her sick. Her chest had swelled up into two ugly bumps and once a month she bled between her legs. That was really scary. She didn't enjoy the dull ache she'd feel in the pit of her groin those days either.

Choking back a sob, she crawled across the rough stones of the floor into the lap of one of her life sized dolls. A flood of tears bathed her cheeks as she wrapped the cold rubbery arms around her.

"Mama said the villagers wanted to hurt me. Why?" Her breath hiccupped as her fingers gripped the dolls frock tightly and burrowed deeper against the lifeless doll. She imagined her doll, Lila, kissing the top of her head, patting her back and telling her it would be all right. "Why would they want to hurt me? Why am I sick? Why can't I stop being naughty?" She sniffled, feeling shame in the enjoyment she felt exploring her body, and the pleasure in the spankings afterwards.

Mama had tried to scare her saying the villagers would come get her, tie her up, and take a switch to her bare ass. The thought both frightened and excited Fioraluna, much to Fioraluna's chagrin.

"I'm naughty. I'm a bad girl and I'm ugly. Mama said so."

She cried until, weary from grief, she dozed off. A little mouse scurrying over her foot woke her. Fioraluna jumped with a gasp and looked down. Squeaky looked up at her, whiskers twitching.

"No food today. Mama hasn't been by in a long time."

Squeaky scurried away into the darkness and returned with two more mice, Twitchy and Speedy. They dragged a tiny sack between them to her toes and sat back on their haunches, their beady little eyes glowing up at her.

Fioraluna reached for their gift with a smile. Within the hand-sized woven sack were nuts.

She squealed with delight, her tummy rumbling in anticipation. "Oh, thank you."

The three mice squeaked their replies and scurried away into the darkness again.

After eating the nuts, Fioraluna pulled her dress back into place, ignoring the brace. Let mama find her with her lumps swinging free. Perhaps if she were disobedient enough, mama wouldn't leave her for such long periods of time.

She decided to practice her Echize di' Drakkur, or Dragons Lure. Mama told her she needed to practice.

Lifting her dress to bare her knees, Fioraluna crawled upon the floor to where she could see the outline of her bench before the closed window shutters. She enjoyed the cold rough feel of the stones against her skin and would sometimes roll around naked upon them. Of course, that would only lead to her wanting to touch herself so she avoided doing it.

Naughty, dirty girl—she mentally chastised herself.

She gave a little bleat of pain mingled with surprise when she smacked her head against the bench. Rubbing her sore forehead with one hand, she reached out with the other to feel around for her golden flute. Cold, hard metal met her searching hand. Wrapping her fingers around it, she brought it up to her face and nuzzled the long golden flute lovingly, shuddering at the feel of cold steel between her lips and teeth.

Fioraluna took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and blew. Soft lilting music filled the air around her and echoed throughout the chamber.

Closing her eyes, she envisioned a beautiful golden dragon soaring through the sky, his scales gleaming bright like the sun. She played for him, calling with her heart as well as her song.

Giant wings fanned the warm air as he circled, sapphire eyes glowing down at her. Two gleaming horns spiraled up from his mighty head and he had a snout full of jagged ivory teeth. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, the scales on his body lifting slightly from the rumbling vibration.

She should have feared the beast, but as long as she played her melody, he was hers, a slave to her bidding. The air, stirred by the dragon's wings, stroked through her raven tresses. She willed him to her, to kneel at her feet. The dragon landed with...

A heavy thud behind her made her jump.

Fioraluna's eyes snapped open, fingers stilling on the flute. Her lips parted, breath growing rapid as every hair on her head prickled from the shiver running up her spine.

She felt a presence. Her imagination conjured the image of a fire-breathing dragon hunkered down behind her, sharp teeth dripping with spit, ready to Raveour her in one gulp. Silly, of course, because a dragon wouldn't even fit in her tower room, big as it was. Still, her mind would not shake the image of a dragon.

Swallowing, she lowered her flute from her lips, heart racing. A fine trembling began in her body, and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to stifle the urge to whimper. She strained to hear any type of movement, but all she heard was... breathing, deep, steady—unlike her terrified panting.

A fresh clean scent, like citrusy fruit on a crisp verdant summer breeze tickled her nose. The heat emanating behind her dissipated the chill in the room. A fire-breathing dragon—she thought valiantly trying not to scream now. Slowly, Fioraluna turned her head.

She winced when her flute fell from her grasp with a loud metallic clang, her eyes going round in the gloom of the tower.

It was shaped like a person...somewhat. At least it wasn't a dragon, though the presence of the shadowy figure did not comfort her at all. The person knelt a few paces away. She could barely make out the shadowy figure. Whoever it was didn't move, just knelt there, silent, breathing.

Fioraluna turned her head away and rose, her heart seemingly pounding at the back of her throat. Putting one bare foot before the other with careful slowness, she made her way to the window shutters. The sound of her heart and erratic terrorized panting seemed to echo in the room's rafters.

Movement. She sensed movement and turned her head to see the shadowy figure slowly dragging a pillow into its lap. The head looked big, furry, the shoulders wide, body enormous.

Oh-no, it's a beast...a monster—she screamed in her head.

Fioraluna shivered, her eyes riveted to the dark shadow as her trembling fingers fumbled with the latch on the shutters. The latch stuck, rusty with age, and just as she was about to start shrieking, it gave and slid open with a long squealing cry of protest. With a forceful push, she swung the shutters open.

The ancient shutters groaned and creaked. For a moment, she pondered simply throwing herself over the ledge. The ground below was very far. She'd never survive.

Fear choked her as she turned back.

Sunlight poured into the tower room, chasing back the darkness and chill. The dark grey of the floor lightened to a slivery ash, the same shade as the old wooden beams that held up the second story to the room. Her rumpled bed came into view with its frayed patchwork quilt and frayed red rug. Her dolls sat around, smiling, unmoving, uncaring of the presence in the room.

The shutters finally banged loudly against the rock walls of the tower.

In two rapid blinks, the light engulfed the shadowy figure, bathing it in golden splendor.

"Oh, gods," Fioraluna gasped, her hand going to her galloping heart.

Her eyes beheld the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen—and the biggest.

What she had assumed was a large head turned out to be a mane of golden hair, spilling down in thick, lustrous waves around a muscular body.

Fioraluna's jaw dropped as her eyes took in the fiery sapphire eyes, lush lips, thick neck, bulky shoulders, and ropey arms. The creature's chest sported square pillows of flesh with copper colored disks in their bronzed centers. They tightened even as she gaped at them. Her eyes couldn't stop there though. Rippled abs dipped into a tiny belly button just above the red pillow clutched over thick meaty thighs.

She swallowed loudly, her eyes darting back up to the creature's beautiful face. Hints of dimples made little hollows in his cheeks and another in the center of his chin.

An angel? Was this an angel like the one she had in the little picture on her nightstand?

But why would an angel be kneeling in the center of her room?

Sapphire eyes closed, long gold-tipped lashes sweeping over slightly flushed cheeks. Again, Fioraluna let her gaze sweep over the creature's unclothed body. It was so big... so different from her or her other dolls... that were female.

A boy doll? Had mama given her a boy doll? Her fascinated gaze traveled back up its torso. Huge, but pretty.

It had to be a boy.

Fioraluna walked over to him. His eyes snapped back open, disorientated at first, but then they focused on her almost in adoration. She circled him once, noticing all that wavy golden hair fell to the middle of his bottom, which rested over his enormous feet. He watched her, blinking, turning his head first on way then the other as she came around him full circle.

She went down on her knees before him. "You're so beautiful." She touched his chest and was surprised at his warmth, as though he ran a fever. His skin was velvety soft too, not rubbery.

Oh, he was going to feel so nice against her skin. Fioraluna was almost tempted to strip bare and snuggle up immediately. Her nails pressed against the pectoral under her palm.

The doll flinched, eyes widening, going over every feature on her face. His hands clutched the pillow tighter. He swallowed convulsively, looking bewildered now, which Fioraluna found quite strange. She licked her lips and his eyes flicked down to watch in rapt attention. A soft sigh puffed out from between his lips and he swayed a little toward her.

Alarm streaked through her making her gasp and lift her other hand to steady him. "Is your power running low," she asked anxiously. He blinked and pulled back. "I only have enough power to charge one doll at a time and today I was charging Neeka," she explained.

He opened his mouth to speak, looking baffled, but Fioraluna placed her fingers over his lips. Their petal softness startled her silent a moment, but she shook her head, worried he'd power off from lack of energy. Then he'd grow cold and lifeless like the rest of her dolls. "Don't talk or move until I bring Neeka's energy crystal. She's another doll I have upstairs in a glass case. Mama won't let me play with her..." she frowned, "I don't know why, but it doesn't matter. Please don't shut off. It'll take forever to get you to power up and I want so much to talk and play with a new doll. My other ones don't function anymore. I'll be right back. Stay."

She got up, joy overwhelming her senses as she scampered up the stairs, tripping along the way.

***

Dane watched the raven-haired beauty scramble away. She gave a little squeal of utter delight as she literally ran up the old looking spiral staircase.

"Where the hell am I?" he whispered to himself, looking around.

Everything wavered and he felt light headed and faint, but, of course, that hadn't hindered him from noticing how stunning she looked, and so...innocent. His gaze lowered to the pillow he'd grabbed to cover his boy parts, unsure of the welcome a six-foot-seven, two hundred and fifty pound naked man would receive.

Again, he wondered how he wound up...here.

His gaze roved over everything; round room, very big, made of stone, and judging from the view of wispy clouds and swaying treetops the ginormous window before him displayed, he surmised he was inside a very tall tower.

"As in Rapunzel, Wilder," he murmured to himself with a snort of disbelief.

Grayed out beams hinted at siglons of age. The furniture looked worn and the bedclothes and tapestries faded and frayed.

Dozens of life sized dolls in various stages of undress sat around, their big lifeless eyes and empty smiles giving him the creeps.

Dane frowned, running his hands up his chest. His hair was loose and he was naked. A shiver of revulsion made him clench his teeth as he wondered if he'd shifted into his dragon form again.

No. Mustn't think of that horror—the feel of his body contorting, stretching, jagged teeth pushing through his gums, his bones popping, fire coursing through his veins...

Dane clenched his teeth tighter to keep the scream that wanted to erupt from his throat trapped. He slid his hands into his hair and pulled, eyes closed as he willed his flesh to stop twitching.

"God-oh-god...not now," he panted.

Control. He was the master. He was in charge. Slowly, his body stopped shaking and his breathing slowed to normal. Eyes closed, he lowered his hands back upon the pillow.

"That's better, Wilder. Now think."

The last thing he remembered was fighting a legion of devils in some underground cavern, following Damien out into a corridor afterwards, and then accidentally falling through a portal Damien had opened in hopes of getting back to their transports quicker.

"Aw hell," Dane cursed with a grimace. God only knew where the hell he was. "Serves me right for following Damien around like an idiot."

Soft footfalls sounded above, drawing his gaze to the wooden ceiling.

The girl. Longing stirred within him. Holy crap, the minute she'd opened those shutters he felt as if he'd been hit over the head with a plasma cannon.

Her skin was the color of sweet caramel, eyes a luminous gold fringed by long, thick, black lashes. He didn't miss her full, lush lips, the glimpse of white teeth, and a soft pink tongue beyond when she gasped. She had the slightest hint of an over bite that made her face more adorable than beautiful, framed by a fall of deep black hair spilling to her tiny waist. Firm, round breasts pressed against the gold material of her scoop-necked dress, jutting nipples letting him know she wore no bra underneath. Dane literally drooled...

He'd bedded many beauties before, had them by dozens at a time in his bed, tied down, spread out for his pleasure and dominance, but this girl...I want her, I need to be hers, I...I...

Dane blinked, rearing back before he crawled on his knees up the spiral staircase after her. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to be hers?" He scowled wondering what sneaky spell she'd cast on him.

Oh, she definitely needs to be...punished. Naughty girl. His body tightened as his mind pictured what all that caramel-colored skin would look like once he peeled away her pretty gown. Oh yes, and his favorite metal-studded cuffs around her delicate wrists and ankles would look stunning too. Images of her strapped to his favorite spanking bench had him sighing. He'd kiss, lick and nip her perky ass first, get her all hot and bothered...and then, she'd feel the business end of his palm, let her know who was in charge-who belonged to who.

Dane moaned, "Oh, yeah."

Persistent hissing intruded his dark thoughts.

"Pssssssst!"

Dane turned and scowled. Aw, damn-it all.

Damien Draconius, his irritating Alpha Talana brother waved his hand insistently. "Get over here."

The sunlight poured over his mop of blood-red hair, making his green-gold eyes sparkle.

Dane growled at him, making the red weredragon's eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

No. he was not leaving. That female had his name all over her and Dane Wilder wasn't leaving until he tried her on for size.

Dane turned away with a snort, ignoring the way Damien hissed his name in irritation. His eyes went over the room. It was relatively clean, but everything looked very old—much older than the girl...trapped here. Yes. The raven-haired beauty had to be a prisoner. And he was going to save her. The thought made him grin.

He imagined carrying her out of the tower, laying her inside his Viper and stripping her bare, telling her she didn't need the old rags of her past life. He'd dress her in diamonds, rubies, and pearls. His collar. She'd be happy and appreciative he'd saved her...yes, Master. Thank you. Please, take me...

A hand gripping his biceps interrupted his fantasy. "What is wrong with you? Let's get the hell out of here," Damien whispered, getting into Dane's face.

Damien's black-rimmed green eyes bore into his. Dane didn't understand what was wrong with himself either. He felt weird—not right at all. All he knew was that the thought of leaving...her, gave him a feeling of panic, anxiety, anger. He'd convince Rem to bring her along. Later he'd figure out what the hell the little witch had done to him and turn the tables on her.

Yeah, good idea—he thought, watching Damien's confused frown.

"She's a prisoner of sorts," Dane blurted, knowing that if there were anyone in this universe that understood blind stupid infatuation, it would be Damien Draconius. "Let's take her with us, Red."

Damien's lips twitched, the sunlight glinting off the two silver hoops piercing his lower lip and then he grinned...that wicked grin he always got when he was about to partake in some matchmaking. The idiot thought he was the reincarnation of Cupid. This time Dane didn't mind the weredragon's meddling.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dante's platinum blond head popped in next to Damien. The young weretigri frowned at Dane, his pale blue eyes flashing as Damien rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Raven will tear us a new one. We've got to get out of here now."

Dane's stiffened. No. He opened his mouth to beg shamelessly, but Damien saved him from humiliation.

The red weredragon snickered, "Dane likes her. I say we take her home for him."

Dane held his breath, watching Dante's frown turn into a scowl. "We can't just take beings as fuck toys, Draconius. What the hell is wrong with you?"

***

An Talana and a Raveil. The creatures arguing before her new doll were not of this world. The Raveil's hair was so red it Damiennded her of fresh blood. It was long and shaggy and stuck up out of its head in every direction. Black scrolled designs wrapped around its biceps, and forearms. The tattoo of a dragon clutched the right thigh up to its hip and a snake curled from its left foot to just past the ankle.

The Talana's hair was as white as fresh snow and fell like a silken veil, just barely brushing wide bulky shoulders. Like her doll, they too were unclothed, their bodies knotted with muscle and sinew, though not as massively proportioned as her beautiful boy doll. Why they were conversing in hushed tones eluded her. All Fioraluna knew was that that Raveil was not going to take her new doll. His hand was clutching the golden-haired boy doll by his arm. Maybe the Talana was trying to get him to release her doll.