Dragon Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

  Right into the middle of the Council Chambers.

  Fafnir took a deep breath as Draconi and Watcher eyes turned on him. In less time than it took a dragon to snort fire, they would know his true name. And realize he lied to them about his identity.

  His stomach churned, heat crept into his face as he looked around the room. Stone walls, a high ceiling, and polished marble floors lent a cold feel to the circular room. But not nearly as cold as he imagined the Council would look when they learned of his deception.

  Who knew? Maybe they’d forgive him like his father had.

  Stranger things had happened. As proved by Keara returning him to human form.

  “I have joyful news.” Alviss pulled him forward. “My son has returned. Ragnor has returned.”

  A weight heavier than a thousand gems settled on his chest, restricting his breathing. Curious looks greeted his father’s announcement.

  “Fafnir is Ragnor?” Enar stepped forward, one hand gripping Thoren’s forearm as if to hold him back.

  Fafnir swallowed. He no longer acted craven. And part of his new bravery meant owning up to his mistakes. “I prefer to be called Fafnir.”

  “Nonsense. You are my son.” Alviss banged his cane against the floor, punctuating his words with each thump.

  “Why has it taken you this long to come forward?” one of the Draconi asked.

  Wasn’t that the question of the day? And one Fafnir had no intention of answering. He owed his family and Aryana the answer, not a group of inquisitive males.

  But he needed to say something to erase the distrust and surprise hiding in their eyes.

  “It was not the correct time. I needed to take care of some things first.” Like eliminating his guilt and cowardice.

  “Is that why you avoided appearing before the Council to tell about your experiences in Cautasia?” Balthor glared at him.

  Fafnir swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Give the dragon some leeway.” Enar gestured at Fafnir, his other hand clasping the forearm of an ear-steaming Thoren. “He’s been locked in a titanium cell for almost twenty-five years. Who knows how that affected him? Do you really expect him to behave normally?”

  Did Enar hand him an excuse or insult him? Fafnir shrugged, deciding to take the words as an excuse. Perhaps Enar was a friend after all. Who would have thought he’d become friends with a Watcher?

  Surprise, surprise.

  Distrust morphed into understanding and pity as the Council members absorbed Enar’s words. Pity. He hated pity. But it was better than distrust and disgust. At least no one called for his banishment.

  Until Thoren broke free of Enar’s grasp. “You bastard! I helped free you and you lied to us all about who you are!”

  Two blinks later and Thoren stood before him, fist slamming into his jaw. Fafnir stumbled back. Obliterating his son-by-mating hopped to the front of his mind. Only to be squashed by reasoning.

  He deserved that punch. He deserved a righteous hatred.

  He also deserved to be forgiven.

  As he rubbed his jaw, Thoren stood in front of him, fingers curling and releasing as a thin stream of steam trickled from his ears. Enar stepped beside him, trying to pull him back, but Thoren shook him off. Alviss pointed a finger at Thoren, a snarl pulling his lip.

  One charcoal-the-Draconi session coming up.

  “Leave him be, Father. I deserved that.”

  He gave Thoren a life debt when freed from his cell. The least he could have done was give the male his correct name instead of hiding behind a false one.

  No wonder his son-by-mating punched him. He’d made him look the fool.

  He deserved that punch. And many others.

  Not that he’d let Thoren get another punch in. One proved the point.

  The snarl turning Alviss’s lip relaxed as he drew in a deep breath. “Very well. Please state how you were captured, Ragnor.”

  Arguing about his name apparently proved to be a useless endeavor. Looked like he’d always be Ragnor to his father, no matter what name he went by.

  Fafnir waggled his jaw before answering. Who knew his daughter’s mate threw such a hard punch? “Latham told the ruling humans in Cautasia about titanium and its effects on Draconi.”

  Eyes widened and narrowed as he told about being captured, his time in the cell, Changing, his rescue by Thoren and Enar and how Keara returned him to human form.

  When he finished answering questions, he glanced to his father, whose about-to-charcoal-a-Watcher expression gave him pause. For a fleeting moment he felt a stab of pity for Latham. But only for a moment. Latham deserved the punishment he would receive. Humans should never know the one thing that obliterated a Draconi’s magic.

  “Thank you, son.” Amazing. Words really could come out of a jaw tensed tighter than a dragon’s grasp on a gold piece. “Please return to the Temple and we will call you after we question the captives.”

  Fafnir nodded, but before he could transport, Alviss thump-shuffled over to him, clutching him in an embrace. Thoren might remain angered with him, the Council might feel pity and distrust, but knowing his father accepted him meant everything.

  “Get on with you, now.” Alviss released him, taking a step back. “We’ll call when it’s time for their punishment.”

  “Thank you.” For accepting me, for not banishing me, for wanting me to stay.

  “You are my son. Now get on with you.” Alviss flicked his fingers and Fafnir disappeared into a transport.

  When he arrived in the Temple Courtyard, peace stabbed through his heart. For the first time since he escaped from his cell he felt a lack of worry. Good thing he never found a cliff tall enough to jump off. He never would have seen his family again. Never been accepted by his daughter. Never told his mate he loved her.

  All right, so he hadn’t experienced that last one. Hadn’t totally realized it until standing in the midst of trees, shrubs and dying flowers. He loved Aryana.

  And she deserved to know. Even if she refused to return his love.

  A cold pain staked a hole in his chest. Without her love, he was nothing, an emptiness with no hope of being filled.

  But would she choose him instead of her coveted position?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Birdsong woke Aryana, the happy chitter-chatter outside her window greeting the morning sun. She opened her eyes, took in another view of frolicking dragons painted on the ceiling, and stretched. Judging from the amount of light in the room, it was a little past dawn.

  And she felt invigorated. Alive. Ready to start the new day.

  “Good morning.”

  Ari started, clutching the covers to her bare chest as she sat up and turned toward the voice. Fafnir sat on the floor, back leaning against the wall. Fafnir. Her mate.

  She just thought she was ready to start the day.

  Could she give up the position of High Priestess for Fafnir? Did she want to? Would she be forced to?

  How could she renounce the one thing she always wanted?

  “Did you spend the night here?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Not the whole night. More like the last couple of hours.”

  “Did Annaliese let you in?”

  Red tinged his cheeks. “She doesn’t know I’m here. She thinks I’m in a guest room.”

  Warmth bloomed across her skin, dropping lower until the sensitive skin of her core tingled. Knowing he watched her sleep ignited her desire. And how confused was that? If she allowed these feelings to dominate her reason, she would lose her position faster than she could strip.

  Apparently her traitorous body wanted the strip, romp, and roll with Fafnir.

  Her mind knew better.

  “So why are you here?” Although she knew the answer.

  He could no more leave her alone than she could stop her body from readying for his possession.

  Where was a convenient stone to bang her head against when she needed one?

  “Thought you needed watching.”
/>   And didn’t that make her shiver with pleasure.

  No, no, no. No shivering allowed. She needed to be in control of her emotions. To remain aloof. To not fall in love.

  Why did she even bother? Resistance to one’s mate was futile.

  Being upset with his deception was an entirely different matter.

  “Why did you lie to me?” She counted the seconds of silence with the heavy thumps of her heart while Fafnir stared at his lap like it held the solution to his problems.

  Right when she feared he would not answer, he drew in a deep breath. Blowing it out, he met her gaze. “I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  He shrugged, gaze dropping to again stare at his lap where his hands rested against his thick thighs. When he spoke, his voice rasped like stuck hinges. “I thought you might banish me.”

  “Banish you? Whatever for?”

  Green eyes met her gaze, ribbons of pain coloring their depths. “Keara. I abandoned her with humans.”

  “Ah.” No wonder he hid behind an assumed name. Guilt led to lying. “But there was no malice in the doing. You did not know. And you were a prisoner. Even if you did know, you could not have done anything about it.” His accidental treatment of Keara gave her less grief than the knowledge he found love in another’s arms.

  Get over yourself, Ari. It wasn’t like you even acknowledged his mate potential. Remember avoiding him?

  His bed partners never bothered her before. What changed?

  Her new-found belief in the old Seer’s prediction?

  “Everyone says that.”

  “Maybe it’s time you start believing them. Does Keara know?”

  “She knows.”

  “Am I the only one who didn’t know you’re Ragnor?”

  Red tinged his cheeks as he glanced to the side and back. “I just told Father.”

  She cringed, a stab of sympathy shivering through her veins. Telling Alviss anything ranked at the bottom of her list. “How did that go?”

  “Better than I thought. Until he transported us to the Council and told them about my return. It needed to be done…” His voice trailed into nothing.

  “But it didn’t mean you wanted to have to do it.”

  A smile turned the ends of his lips. “Exactly.”

  That little smile he wore gave him a hatchling-like appearance, a youngster’s carefree expression after a day playing in the sun. It almost made her forgive him for lying to her.

  Almost.

  “I understand why you hid. Why you refused to admit who you were. But you lied to me. Me.” Her hand performed double duty, slapping against her bare chest and helping to hold the sheet in place. “Aryana. Not the High Priestess, but me. The one you claim is your mate.”

  “Will you admit to it?” Hope shone from his eyes, drained from the pores of his skin, leaving him vulnerable to her words.

  One wrong word from her lips and his desire would melt into repulsion. Despite her anger at his deception, she definitely did not want to destroy his love.

  Apparently mated males weren’t the only saps in Draconia.

  “The old Seer might have been correct.” More like was…not that she wanted to admit it to Fafnir.

  “Come now, Ari, you know as well as I do we’re mates. How do you think I appeared when you were in trouble? You drew me to you. You can’t deny we are mates.” He rose to his feet and walked to the side of her bed.

  Ari clutched the sheet tighter, as if it offered her heart protection from his advance. What a futile gesture. Try as she might to fight it, he belonged to her, her mate, her love.

  Did she really want to hide her body from his gaze?

  She dropped the sheet as he stepped to the side of the bed. Heat darkened the green of his eyes as his gaze dropped to her nipples. He swallowed before raising his head.

  “You need to decide what you want.”

  “You.” Did she really just say that?

  “Now or forever?”

  Why did he have to ruin the moment with logic? And correct logic at that?

  Beneath the crumbling shield of her anger, the thin threads of their mating bond pulsed, growing stronger with each beat. The inevitable pull to mate with Fafnir, to join their bodies, grew stronger as he stood by her bed.

  As did the knowledge the old Seer’s prediction was true. Not speculation, as she desired when younger.

  But how could she give up her position, her title? The power that filled her veins?

  Ari looked into Fafnir’s eyes, saw the hope glowing deep inside and knew he belonged to her. A tendril of pain shot through her chest, a double dose of knowledge and grief.

  Maybe she didn’t have to give up her position as the High Priestess. Maybe she could remain at the Temple.

  And maybe dragons could walk by a chest of jewels.

  Ari sighed. Was the power she craved worth losing her mate?

  “I don’t know.” And she called him a liar? All her hesitation earned her was more time to prepare for no longer being the High Priestess.

  Or any priestess.

  Goddess. What would she do without serving in the Temple?

  Mated females could not be priestesses. Even if they did possess enough magic to fill a jewel chest and transform into a dragon.

  Not that she would admit to the dragon.

  Some talents were best left unmentioned.

  “That’s what I thought. Until you decide, we best remain clothed.”

  Aryana pulled the sheet over her breasts, taking her time with it as lust darkened his gaze. “I’m sorry. Seeing you again is a surprise.” Along with a disruption to her way of life.

  “No, don’t apologize.” A hand raked through his hair. “I should be apologizing to you. For not telling you who I was.”

  “Have you told your father we’re mates?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. We needed to talk about it before we let others know. For all they know, we feel the same way we did before my capture.”

  “I don’t know if I can give this”—one hand gestured around the room—“up. It’s all I ever wanted.”

  His jaw tensed. “So you don’t want me?”

  “No, no. I mean, I don’t know. How can I have you and not this? How can I have this and not you? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

  “For you? Do you have any idea how hard being back in Draconia is for me? For most of the last month I didn’t want to be here. And then you fell out of the sky into a berry bush, and I found a reason to live. Now you tell me you’d rather be a priestess than be my mate?”

  “What do you expect? I thought Ragnor was dead! I thought Fafnir was a dragon returned to home. I never suspected the two of you were the same person until you changed before my eyes. Then you pull out the we’re-mates jewel and think I should wag my tail and follow you out the door? Do you have any idea how hard I worked for this position?” Her hand smacked against the mattress.

  “You weren’t supposed to have this position. You were supposed to mate me!”

  “Oh? As if you didn’t agree with me back then. I don’t recall you flapping for joy over the Seer’s prediction. I seem to remember you running off to Cautasia and forgetting all about me!”

  “You didn’t want me!”

  “Don’t act so high and flying. You didn’t want me either. If I hadn’t gone running off to Goleb, you never would have realized I was your mate.”

  “I always realized you were my mate.”

  “Then why did you rest your scales in every other female’s cave?”

  “For the same bloody reason you joined the priestesshood and serviced males seeking the Goddess. Neither of us wanted someone else telling us what to do.”

  “I did not join the priestesshood to service seeking males. I joined to receive extra magic.”

  “Is that how you change into a dragon?”

  Aryana paused, mouth open. She snapped her mouth closed,
her heart pounding a fast-tempo rhythm behind her ribs. Until he spoke, she forgot he saw her change shape. Not that she considered lying to him about it. Liar, liar, tail on fire. “I don’t know. It started happening during the Harvest festival shortly after I became High Priestess. At first we thought it was something in the ritual, but Annaliese didn’t change, even when she led the ritual. I always thought it was because of my inherent magic mixed with the circle’s energy. Then it happened in Goleb, which was a surprise. I’ve never tried it outside of the circle.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t want Alviss to know.”

  A smile turned his lips, crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I understand not wanting to tell him things.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s your father. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Really. I understand. He’s a bit…difficult.”

  “That’s a shortened way of saying it.”

  “What are we going to do”—his hand waved between them—“about us?”

  “I don’t know, Fafnir. I don’t know.”

  He sighed, sat on the edge of the bed, ran a hand down his face. “A male is nothing without his mate.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Am I interrupting?” Annaliese stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob, her face a mask of surprise.

  “No, no.” Heat splashed across Aryana’s cheeks. “We were just talking.”

  Fafnir rose to his feet. “I wanted to ensure she was well.”

  Annaliese cocked a brow. “And how do you feel this morning, Aryana?” Stepping into the room, she closed the door behind her with a resounding click.

  “Much better today. My energy has returned. Thank you.” Now can you do something about this mating predicament I’m in?

  Annaliese’s eyes widened. Oh, no. Did she actually transmit that thought to her friend? Apparently so, judging from the glance the Healer gave them coupled with the slight turning of her lips.

  “Glad to hear you feel better today. I’ve heard the Council has sentenced Fasolt and Latham to death. We are invited to attend the execution.”

  Relief slid through her limbs, a buoyancy freeing her from worry. “Does this mean the attacks will stop?”

  “I don’t know. All they told us was Fasolt was sentenced to death for his attacks on you and Keara and Latham for telling humans of titanium.”