Chapter 4

"There you are," a feminine voice called out.

Jackson turned around.

He'd found the dragon.

The dragon was not the dinosaur-proportioned fire-breathing monster he'd expected. She was a hottie of a different kind. He watched her descend a curved staircase at the far end of the room. She was naked and actually kind of fit. Well, if you ignored the scales ... and the thick tail ... and the leathery wings folded behind her back ... or the long quills she had instead of hair.

To be honest, Jackson thought, she was a bit of a babe even with those. It was the face. Aside from a few scales and the hair that wasn't actually hair, you could almost trick yourself into thinking she was human. A very cute human, even if her pink skin tended more to lilac than fleshy tones. The vivid skin tone only added to her exoticism.

Nice pair of boobs as well. Big, round, totally naked ... it wasn't really a surprise they caught his eye. It was her face that held his attention, though. She had big bright eyes and a wide, expressive smile. It was the face of a girl that was both beautiful and fun to be with. Jackson could really fancy a girl with a face like that.

Which made it all the more soul-crushing she was obviously the dragon.

"I've come to rescue the ... princess." Jackson tailed off. An uncomfortable suspicion was settling in his gut like a bad balti.

"Oh, that's so sweet," the naked dragon girl said. "You battled all the way up here for that. I don't really need the help," she partially extended her wings to show the top of a mountain didn't exactly qualify as a prison for her, "but the thought is very touching."

"You're the princess," he said.

The dragon girl nodded, a wide smile on her full lips.

"Princess Babelixiafukiona the forty-eighth. Seventh in line to the throne of Tay-e-tow."

That suspicion slithering through his guts had been proved right. Dragon royalty. What was he supposed to do now--bow to her or slay her? Slaying might be problem, he thought, looking down at the jagged half-inch of metal sticking out of the hilt that was all that remained of his sword.

"But I'd prefer it if you called me Bab. Much less formal."

As was her smile. And the glint in her eyes as she looked at him. He didn't think the shiny spanner twirling around in her left hand was part of the standard distressed damsel wardrobe either.

"Ian," he replied. Dragon royalty, would you effing Adam and Eve it. "I'm a little confused. The villagers told me there was a princess needing rescuing from a dragon."

"Oh, I told them to say that," Bab said. "Well, ordered really, on pain of crispy-fried barbequed death.

"I didn't mean it!" she added, seeing Jackson's shocked expression. "You know how it is. Good folk, but not the sharpest knives in the drawer. They need focus."

"Why tell them that at all?" Jackson asked.

It was Bab's turn to grimace. She sighed.

"Stupid family tradition," she said. "We're not morons like you humans. We don't force royal blood to marry royal blood until everyone's everybody else's second cousin and the blood is as thin as peasant's broth. That's not the way to maintain a royal line. Good blood needs fresh infusions of prime genetic stock and what better source than heroes. Strong, quick, clever, resourceful heroes.

"This," her hand swung around to encompass the room and the hundred levels below them, "is tradition for the womenfolk of the Mitsuji-Doraga line. We build a dungeon and mate with the heroes strong enough to make it through to the end. That's the path to strong hatchlings, as my mama used to say."