Free Southern Fried Dragon by Nancy Lee Badger

sniffed the air.
    “Potatoes , yuck.” Then she recalled how delicious Shaw smelled the day he returned to her. The same day she’d shoved him out her window, and onto the roof when Mistress Cumberland appeared at her door.
    After months in this fort, surrounded by men and ammunition, what would Shaw smell like?  She sniffed again , then opened her snout and let the breeze linger on her tongue.
    “There.” His scent drifted on the wind ; sea, salt, and Shaw. He was close. Memories of his kisses and how his mouth tasted drove her forward. He strode near. She would talk to him, explain the need to depart this place, and fly him to safety.
    A whisper on the wind was all the noise she made when she changed from her dragon form to the human , hidden in the shadows. Dru prayed Shaw’s face would fill with the light of happiness when he discovered her standing on the battlements.
    Several soldiers passed her hiding spot, mumbling about a supply ship. The southern militia would not stand for that. If a ship arrived and supplied the fort, Dru expected the event would cause a long, drawn out conflict. She’d seen plenty of instances where warring clans attacked Scottish castles. When turned back at the gates, they simply laid siege until those inside starved to death.
    ‘Twas an old ploy but a simple one that usually worked.
    The scent of apples, musk, and male grew in intensity as Shaw drew near. Her stomach growled. She’d grown to love apples. Lucky for her, she sensed he walked alone. When his profile neared and his tall, uniformed body stopped and looked out toward the ocean in the distance, Dru reached out and touched his shoulder.
    Shaw turned, unafraid. He probably assumed one of his men had taken a respite and needed a word. He stepped closer. Swallowed by the darkness, and without a sound, Dru reached up, put her arms around his neck, and gathered him into her embrace.
    He froze.
    * * * * *
    Shaw’s mind went blank. The familiar arms and warm curves suddenly nudging his chest could not be.
    I’ve fallen asleep.
    Danger lurked in sleeping on the third story balustrade, high above a skirt of granite boulders. In his lovely dream, he widened his eyes, seeking more light. He straightened his back and stepped backward, until a feminine groan circled him in a dizzying rush of passion.
    “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” he said, his voice in a whisper lest any passing soldier overheard his dream state’s thoughts.
    “I am not a dream, Shaw. I want you.”
    “Your voice is familiar.” Pain gripped his heart. How dare he fall asleep and relive each day’s torment? He could smell her subtle fragrance beneath the yeast and ale spills on her work gown. Her lips pounced, devouring his mouth.
    Shaw’s arms clamped her to him. Instantly hard, he squirmed when she pressed against his hidden length.
    “Take me.”
    Shaw froze, again. He unlocked his grip and backed away once more. His peripheral vision proved no one else walked the balustrade. This side, facing the ocean, held no threat, nor interest to the men. He had come here to forget about Dru. Keeping the lights of Charleston in view helped.
    Or, so he thought.
    “Now I AM seeing things. Dru? Here?”
    Dru stepped out of the shadow of the stair tower. Her loose, brown hair caught an updraft and curled around her head like fairy wings.
    “Aye, ‘tis me in the flesh.” She giggled.
    “Do not jest. This is serious, Dru. You should not be here. You cannot be here.” Aware that his voice had risen, he inhaled a deep breath and waited until his mind grasped the facts. He stood on th e topmost story of a fort, under siege by the southern militia. Cannon fire could erupt at any moment, and she was the only woman amongst eighty-five lonely men.
    The last part of his thoughts had him shoving her back into the darkened corner where he’d first encountered the visitor. Visitor?
    This is Dru.
    “Why are you here?” the words hissed from lips pulled tight