by A. C. Ryals
His thoughts began to slip away as he got lost in her. Her scent, her softness, and the sound of her breath.
“Harder,” she breathed.
Wrath complied, increasing his pace and force. The result was breathtaking. Her dark hair strewn across his pillow, her face a picture of blissful agony. She met each thrust with a movement of her hips, her lean body writhing in this most erotic of dances. Her sheath was tight around him, sending waves of ecstasy through his body.
Then she cried out, saying his name and burying her face in his shoulder while her pussy pulsated around him. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder as he reached his peak and emptied himself inside her.
Her head fell back on the pillow, blood on her lips, and the scent of iron in the air. She was dazed. She’d bitten him. It was another clue about what she was. It had happened to him before, a shifter female getting overly enthusiastic.
Any second now she would…
“Oh my God. I bit you!” Jess said.
Wrath grinned. “Don’t worry, it happens. You’re obviously part shifter,” he said as he slid out of her and then collapsed beside her on the bed. “If we were the same type of shifter it might be an issue, but as it is, it’s nothing. It just means I pleased you.”
Jess sat up and stared down at the wound, a pained expression on her face.
“Do what feels natural, love. Clean it. I know your inner animal wants to.”
Jess leaned down and tenderly licked the blood away from his wound while Wrath stroked her hair. It was so animalistic, so feral, so fucking hot. He felt his dick responding.
Wrath pushed her onto her back, got to his knees, and put her legs over his shoulders. It was time for round two.
~
Jess had one arm and one leg stretched across Wrath’s body. He held her with one arm while she rested her head on his chest. He finally felt sated, calm.
“Tell me what it was like when you were a kid,” she said.
“I don’t remember much,” Wrath said, idly twirling a strand of her dark hair around his index finger.
“Did you always know you were a dragon?”
“No. My mom was married to a brickmaker when I was born. It was funny, he made bricks but lived in a house made of reeds. After I burned down our house, by accident, my stepdad made me help him with the bricks for a new house. I was maybe four or five. Anyway, they had to bake in the sun. That was taking too much time. He had another order to do so—when no one was around—he told me to burn them. That was one of the first times I made fire intentionally.”
“I guess a house made of reeds wouldn’t be the best place for a dragon. Your parents should have known better.”
“It wasn’t that they didn’t know. Things were different there. You don’t even think about wood these days, you know? But wood was a luxury item in Akkad. There wasn’t enough to frame houses or make furniture. Rich people had windows with wooden slats to cover them. Reeds were the more common building material. If you had more money you could afford bricks. My stepfather couldn’t afford to use bricks for his own house. He had to sell everything he made.”
“How did the dragons find you?”
“They didn’t. My mother found them. She was pregnant at the time. I understand now why she took me to Kur. She was afraid I’d accidentally hurt the baby. She lied and said she was taking me to a man who could cure me, get rid of the magic so I could be a good big brother. She left me standing at the door and promised to come back for me. That’s when I met my eldest brother Etel. He told me there was no cure and there was no way in hell my mother was coming back for me.”
“I imagine that didn’t go over well. How old were you?”
“Six or so. It was a bad time. Turns out, my mother was an upper-class prostitute until she fell out of favor for being diseased. She took up with the first man who would have her. I think she wanted to keep me and tried to make it work, but I was too much for her to handle. I didn’t understand it at the time, but she did what she had to do.”
“I guess it was better to live with your own kind. They’d know how to handle you.”
Wrath laughed. “I was the third dragon, the first fire drake. No. They didn’t know how to handle me. Kur tried to torture me into compliance. You know, magic isn’t all good. If I were human, I’d have fainted or died. Probably both. But I was awake for every agonizing minute. I should have just obeyed him, but that felt wrong, disloyal to the only father I knew. Kur didn’t know how to raise a child. Etel raised himself and then Alal. Kur didn’t like the way his sons behaved so he tried to raise me himself.”
“Did your brothers help you?”
“They’re the reason I’m alive. Etel worked on Kur while Alal worked on me. Eventually things got better. Kur realized the torture didn’t get him anywhere and I realized fighting him at every turn wasn’t good for anyone, especially me. My brothers came and went. I left home when I was around thirteen or so.”
“Where did you go?”
“I had wings. I went everywhere. Wherever I went I either played the god of fire or one of his priests. I eventually settled in Egypt. Some people thought I was Hephaestus. It was better than working for a living.”
And so they talked. It was after midnight when Jess fell asleep.
~
Wrath held Jess in his arms for a full hour after she’d gone to sleep. Every sigh made his heart ache. What was this? Instead of getting her out of his system, the sex made him even more aware of her. Though he was tempted to stay with her all night, he couldn’t sleep away the night as humans did. Instead, he carefully pried himself away from her warmth, got up, and went to work out in the gym in his basement.
The bite mark on his arm was still sore. He’d have to meditate later to make sure it healed faster. While his magic would get around to it, he found that meditating helped him focus his magic where he needed it.
After working out, he showered, made some coffee, and went on early morning patrol. The witching hour, between about 2 and 4am, was the hardest for his people to stay awake. Basilisks from the third generation down needed daily sleep unless they had at least one-half enchanted blood. The rest slept on a weekly basis. While they weren’t as governed by the sun as Wrath was, they mostly held day jobs. Only a few with no other job or with a flexible schedule could patrol at night.
As was his ritual, he brought thermoses of coffee to the guards farthest from the house: on the driveway and on the border of werewolf pack territory. They patrolled in basilisk form but changed for a sip of coffee. Being in human form dulled their senses but coiling up and napping in the woods would dull them more.
The only activity reported was a wolf who chased a rabbit just past the border. A warning trill from the guard sent her loping back.
Wrath stripped down in his usual spot in a clearing in the woods and changed into dragon form. He glided over the ten acres of property watching and listening as the cool air caressed his dark wings. He went beyond his territory’s borders to look for trouble that might be brewing in the area—a fight amongst the werewolves or drunken bear shifters.
Just after dawn, he felt a familiar weight in the air and headed back to the clearing. Warning calls were already going up, they sounded like birds to an untrained ear. Back in human form, he checked his phone, but already knew what it would say.
A dragon was approaching.
It wasn’t just any dragon, though. It was a powerful sonofabitch with mage blood.
Wrath texted back, telling his people to ready their weapons, but to allow the dragon to pass. The guards were all armed with guns containing bullets dipped in basilisk blood. While Etel could use magic to deflect some bullets, fighting off bullets from automatic weapons all around him would be a strain even for him.
Etel was just pulling up in a generic looking rental sedan when Wrath reached the front of the house.
Wrath waited at the front steps while Etel got out of his car. He hadn’t seen Etel since long before the war. Etel was
looking older, unusual for a dragon.
“Ezzu, thank you for seeing me.” Etel spoke in flawless Akkadian, though his first language—and the official language of dragons—was Sumerian. It was a concession on his part.
“How did you find me? Don’t tell me one of my wards was damaged,” Wrath said in kind.
“Alal has known where you are for decades. He practically owns the telecom industry.”
“You’re going to explain about sending the woman?”
“That and much more. We have a problem and I need your help to solve it. Shall we sit and talk?”
“The Prince of Dragons needs the help of the lowly King of Basilisks? How interesting, and unlikely. Fine, we’ll talk, but the human is inside sleeping.”
“It concerns her as well. She knows what you are?”
“She does.”
“Then there’s no secret I’m going to tell that I don’t trust her to keep.”
Wrath didn’t want his eldest brother in his sanctuary, but Etel wasn’t being aggressive. He didn’t arrive in dragon form and he spoke Akkadian. The war was long over, Etel had put a stop to it. Wrath would hear him out, if only to satisfy his curiosity.
Raising Wrath’s curiosity had been Etel’s intent, it had to be. Wrath hadn’t let a dragon near him in centuries.
Wrath dipped his head in acquiescence and stepped aside, gesturing for Etel to walk ahead of him up the stairs. He was sure Etel was just there to talk, but he still wasn’t going to turn his back on him. He knew his people were watching the house. They’d already called in reinforcements. They’d be ready for battle as long as Etel was there and on high alert after. Dragons were never welcome guests.
Etel stood in the living room, waiting for permission to sit. Wrath gestured for him to do so. Etel sat on the sofa instead of in Wrath’s favorite chair. Another silent concession.
“Coffee, brother? Something stronger?” Wrath offered, switching to English.
“Scotch, if you don’t mind,” Etel said, responding in kind.
“Macallan or Lagavulin?”
“Lagavulin, please.”
Wrath poured the whisky, preferring the lighter taste of Macallan for himself and pouring a glass of peaty Lagavulin for Etel. He took them into the living room and handed Etel his glass. He heard movement in the bedroom. Jess was awake.
“Thank you,” Etel said.
Politeness among dragons was more dangerous than when they were baiting each other and hurling insults. Insults and the resulting fights were for fun. Politeness was meant to prevent a fight that could end up deadly.
“You’re welcome,” Wrath said as he sat in his favorite chair. “You’re looking tired, Etel. When did you last sleep?”
“Last month for a couple of weeks. I am tired. I think my age is catching up to me. You look unexpectedly well.”
Wrath was sure it was a lack of mindful use of magic during meditation that was wearing on the older dragon. He’d keep that knowledge tucked away.
“Thank you,” Wrath said. “What’s this problem you speak of and why did you panic our little brother over it? Imagine having a young woman in your care and finding her in the grasp of the evil father of the basilisks who fought his own innocent dragon family.”
“There are things you need to know. Has word gotten to you of the female dragons? Drakainas, they call themselves,” Etel said, not taking the bait.
“Rumors, nothing more. You’re saying they’re real?” Wrath asked.
Etel sipped his scotch. “I am. Kurt bonded to a siren when she was dying from a werewolf bite. She turned into a drakaina. She can’t breathe fire, but she’s the real deal. It was a fluke and may never happen again. The werewolf bite may have primed her for a change that was triggered by getting a dose of dragon life force from the binding spell. What happened to her afterward is more interesting, though.”
Etel stretched his long legs and sat back into the sofa before continuing: “She was contacted by a woman with dragon magic. I don’t know who she was descended from but, apparently, Malcolm’s great-granddaughters had dragon magic that they passed down. His family has the most of what are being called dragon bloods—females with dragon magic who can’t shift. The magic is inherited through the maternal line. Jess is one of them and you should tell her, though I’m sure she knows. She went awfully quiet.”
“Jess?” Wrath called.
“Coming!” she responded a little too quickly.
“Yeah, she heard,” Wrath said. “How is any of this a problem? More specifically, how is it my problem? Other than the fact that you sent the descendant of the dragon who started the war into basilisk territory.”
“You, of all people, know not to judge people for the sins of their forefathers, son of Kur.”
Wrath rolled his eyes and took another drink of his scotch.
“Her having dragon blood isn’t the problem,” Etel said. “It’s the solution. Cassian, Antonius’s boy, mated a dragon blood. They bit each other and formed an unbreakable mate bond. Then he did the binding spell. After the spell, she became a dragon. It seems that dragons mate just like any other shifter, but only with each other.”
Dragons mate just like any other shifter. Had Jess’s bite made them mates? God, he hoped not. If so, she’d never love anyone else as long as Wrath lived. Had Etel known that Jess might have the urge to bite Wrath? Did he let her make a life altering decision on instinct with no warning?
Wrath didn’t blame Jess. She was more shocked than he was that she bit him. He blamed Etel. He was about to say so when he heard the bedroom door open and light footsteps in the hallway.
“I’m a dragon?” Jess asked, not bothering to pretend she hadn’t been listening. She wore snug jeans and an enticing form-fitting sweater. Her hair had been hastily put up in a bun with a few escaped strands.
“Not yet, I’m afraid, but you have the right bloodline,” Etel said.
Of course it was about bloodlines. Wrath had chosen the wrong type of mate before, according to his family. Now his family had selected the perfect mate with the perfect bloodline.
How very sweet of them.
Jess sat on the sofa next to Etel, much to Wrath’s chagrin. She left a cushion between them, but it was still too close for his taste. He may not want to be mated to her, for her own good, but he also didn’t want her to be next to Etel.
“Jess, this is my brother Etel. Etel, this is Jess. You obviously know more about her than you should. Let’s get to the part where you tell me why you sent her to me,” Wrath said.
“There’s a threat to our world,” Etel said. “Creatures from another universe have crossed into ours. We have to block them from coming in.”
“Why should we assume they aren't friendly?” Jess asked. “Maybe they’re just curious.”
Wrath supposed now that Jess knew dragons existed, she was willing to suspend disbelief. That was better than the alternative. Etel didn’t talk nonsense. There was no use asking him if he was sure. He always was.
“As we speak,” Etel said, “the fae are trying to track down one of their own kind from the other world who came through a gateway and killed dozens of humans in Iraq. We have a good thing going in this world. The fae are happy to let the humans carry on and innovate without magical intervention. Some of their technologies are better than magic, after all. As for us, this is our home. If more of these creatures from the other world come over, they’ll ruin everything. There could be war. Humans won’t know the difference between us and the new arrivals.”
“What does this have to do with female dragons? It’s not like we can raise a new generation in time to fight whatever comes over,” Wrath said.
“The females we have aren’t fighters. They’re at about the level of a third-generation dragon and they’re too young. Thing is, first-generation dragons tend to be stronger when mated. With someone else carrying some of your life force, you tend to build up more life force. You’ll fight better and heal faster. Your mate can stay behind
and protect the human mates of dragons and their young.
“We chose Jess for you because she seems to lean toward fire dragon magic. That and she looks like your type. So far, the most successful pairings of dragon bloods and dragons have been with those who have like magic. Though, the ones that mated third-generation dragons didn’t become drakainas. You can give her a chance at becoming a dragon, Ezzu. She could live for thousands of years.”
“You took it upon yourself to find a mate for me and didn’t think it would piss me off?”
Etel shrugged. “I’m no worse than a meddling mother inviting the pastor’s daughter for dinner. I didn’t make you do anything. From the sound of things, you suspected it was a trap. You had every opportunity to get out of it, but you didn’t. You’re just pissed that I’m right.”
“You had no right.”
“It’s done. I need you and you wouldn’t talk to us. You’re the most powerful firedrake. That could come in handy. Plus, you have influence over the basilisks. They can help with enemies on the ground.”
Though the temptation to get into a fight with Etel was real, it would only keep Etel at his house longer. Wrath knew Etel’s presence had his people on edge. He decided to let the argument die for the moment.
Wrath took a drink of scotch and let it relax him. He leaned back fully in his chair and asked, “What does Kur have to say about all this?”
“Father isn’t well. He doesn’t take care of himself. He stayed awake for a solid millennium. He wanted to stay up longer to see Kurt grow up, but he was barely lucid. He slept for two centuries. About a year ago, he started to turn to stone. I would have let him, frankly, if we didn’t need him. From what I gathered from the fae, the fae from the other world was unfamiliar with humans. That means they may all be enchanted…”
“They’re stronger than those of us with human blood,” Wrath said.
“Right, but your magic has matured. I’m not sure Kur can be any help. He’s been awake for months and he still thinks basilisks are our biggest threat. Your fire is as hot as anything Kur could make. Same with Alal’s ice.