“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat tight as I blink them away. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
“Go on, my dear,” the Sorceress urges. “Try it now—make him small enough to cuddle with. He won’t fight you this time.”
I hesitate, searching that great golden eye.
“Do you mind?” I ask softly.
I don’t hear words, but I feel his assent. And Valen’s too.
“It’s all right,” I hear him say in my mind. “We won’t fight you this time, Princess.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
I draw in a breath, center myself, and speak the words aloud.
“Be ye Smoll.”
Power flows from the silver ring on my finger. This time, it doesn’t hurt. There’s no spike of pain in my skull—no draining, weakening sensation. Only a warm rush, like water flowing through me. I channel it into him—into the magnificent creature before me—and watch, breathless.
At first nothing happens but then…the dragon begins to shrink.
First he goes to the size of a cottage…then he shrinks to the size of a large draft horse. Then a pony and finally he’s the size of a very large dog.
And I can’t help noticing he’s beautiful at every size.
I can still feel his eagerness. I wait but he doesn’t move—just trembles slightly, holding still, his golden eyes locked on mine.
“Come here,” I say softly, holding out my arms.
With a joyful chuff, he bounds toward me, twining around my legs like an enormous cat before rearing up on his hind legs and placing his massive front paws on my shoulders. I laugh and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight.
He’s hot—his scales radiate warmth like a sun-heated stone—and he smells like fire and spice. His long forked tail whips back and forth in delight as he nuzzles against me.
Beside me, the Sorceress chuckles.
“My goodness, my dear—he really seems to like you.”
I start to laugh again, but then I follow her gaze and gasp, “Oh my!”
The pouch between the Drake’s hind legs has opened, and something long and thick is… emerging.
My mind stutters, trying to process what I’m seeing, to fit it into any frame of reference I possess. It’s not like a man’s—not even close. The shaft is immense, a broad, tapered club of dark, scaled flesh that pushes out from the protective sheath with a slow, inexorable force.
As more of it is revealed, I see it’s ridged with pronounced, circular bands of a slightly darker, almost black scale, each one looking as solid and unyielding as carved onyx. The shaft itself is a deep, burnished crimson-gold, the same hue as the dragon’s underbelly, and it glistens with a natural, pearlescent lubricant that catches the golden light of the banquet hall.
It continues to unsheathe, and I realize with a dawning, dizzying shock that it’s still coming. It’s easily twice the length and girth of Valen’s cock in human form, and it’s not fully erect yet. The head is not a smooth cap—it’s a flared crown, like the head of a mace, textured with smaller, intricate scales and a slit-like opening at the tip. And at the base of the enormous shaft, a thicker, more pronounced ridge of scales forms a distinct knot-like bulge.
The sheer, primal otherness of it should terrify me. The implicit power in that member, designed for a creature of myth and flame, is staggering. Its girth and length are nothing short of monstrous.
But the Drake isn’t threatening me with it. He’s simply…presenting it. His great head is lowered, those intelligent, molten-gold eyes watching me with a curiosity that feels unnervingly like Valen’s. A low, rumbling purr vibrates through the floor beneath my feet—a sound of pleasure, of welcome. A puff of warm smoke washes over me from his nostrils, and the massive cock gives a slight, throbbing pulse as more of that slick fluid beads at the tip.
This is the truth of Valen, I realize. He’s not just a warrior…not just a man with clever hands and a dirty mouth, but also this ancient, powerful beast beneath his skin. And the beast, seeing its mate, is offering the most primal part of itself. Not in aggression, but in a display of breathtaking, terrifying possession.
“Yes…mate,” the Drake sends and I feel a rush of desire coming from him.
I bite my lip as I feel my body react. The heat that coils in my belly isn’t just fear—it’s recognition—a deep and instinctual understanding of a claim being laid in a language far older than words.
My cheeks burn. Heat rushes to my face and down between my thighs. I feel my embarrassment and arousal spike in response to the Drake’s longing. And he must feel my emotions because he answers them.
