“What do you plan on doing?”
“No idea. Do you plan on competing?”
“No.”
Ari blinked. “No?”
“No. I am a Healer. Over the years, I’ve found I enjoy being second in command, not first. I no longer want the position. You’re surprised.”
To put it mildly. “I always assumed…”
“What? That I shared Father’s ambitions? You should know me better than that.” Annaliese crossed her arms.
“I’m sorry.” Ari touched her friend’s arm. “You are right, I should. It’s just been…difficult since…” She waved her hand back and forth.
“I know.” Annaliese picked up the circlet, twisting it in her hands, running her thumb across the elongated body of a dragon. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you think you could still turn into a dragon without being High Priestess?”
“I have no idea.” What an odd question to ask now. “Why should I try?”
“It’s a special talent. Perhaps it’s one you had all along and has nothing to do with your position, the energy of the circle or the excess magic in Goleb.”
“It’s the least of my worries. Alviss is going to gloat about this until he dies.”
“Let him. It won’t last. I won’t be High Priestess.”
Ari choked back a chuckle. “Oh, I can see him now when he finds out. A moment of glee followed by sorrow.”
“More like frustration. Neither of his children doing what he planned. I love him dearly but sometimes he is just too much.”
“Isn’t that the truth?”
“Come now, you need to change before you meet my brother.”
What a polite way of saying Aryana should no longer wear her green gown with dancing gold dragons, the gown which showed all her status, her position. The gown she could no longer wear. Perhaps her friend meant she needed to dress in something more revealing. A gown designed to lure, not awe.
Although a little awe wasn’t a bad thing when dealing with one’s mate.
A thrill of anticipation shot through her veins, banishing the cold chill of anxiety. She wanted to see Fafnir. She wanted to mate with him. She just didn’t want to give up her position.
Apparently male Draconi weren’t the only saps around.
Chapter Nineteen
Fafnir sat on the sun-soaked marble bench in the Courtyard, warmth saturating the backs of his thighs, a picnic basket resting at his feet. The sunlight drifted through falling leaves and late-blooming flowers, planted to bring relaxation.
He fidgeted, shifting on the hard stone bench. Would she show? Would she want to eat the meal Keara prepared?
For that matter, did he want to eat the meal Keara cooked? After leaving the Hill, he found his daughter in the Temple healing wing, sorting herbs. Once he told her of his plans for eating the noon meal with Aryana, she volunteered to cook, transporting them both to the home she shared with Thoren. After watching her throw in enough spice to give a dragon heartburn, he understood why Thoren belched and set the drapes on fire.
Hopefully, Aryana wouldn’t suggest going to a room with drapes.
Drumming his fingers against his thigh, he watched the ebb and flow of people walking through the Courtyard. One female with strange markings on her face strolled through the Courtyard, brushing her fingers across waist-high bushes. Her white gown marked her as one who worked in the Temple, be it assistant, acolyte, or priestess. But the tenseness of her stance and the way her gaze darted left and right as if she expected an attack, ruled out those choices. So who was she?
She caught his gaze, her eyes widened and she vanished down a tree-lined path, out of his sight. As if afraid of him. But what did a Draconi female have to fear from a male?
A burst of chatter drew his attention to the Temple entrance. Clusters of priestesses talked in low hums, their words indistinguishable at this distance, their gestures and body language indicating something big happened.
Wonder what that could be?
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. After his announcement today, he knew exactly what words the priestesses’ whispers contained. The High Priestess had a mate.
Which meant she could no longer be a priestess.
How could Aryana not resent him for forcing her from her dream? What kind of a relationship could they have if she resented him?
Maybe he should leave her be. Not claim her as his.
His whole body reacted as if he received a blow. His heart pounded, his lungs froze, his stomach churned at the thought. She belonged to him. He belonged to her. Mates could not abandon the other, especially not for trivialities like a status in the priestesshood.
Walking away was not an option. Cowards walked. Real males stayed. He wanted her. All of her. The one female made just for him. His mate.
Pop! Fafnir started, turning to see Aryana standing by the bench, dressed in a low-cut green gown that accented her eyes and raven’s-wing-black hair. He sucked down a breath. What a beauty. And she belonged to him.
His.
He rather liked the sound of that. But would she?
Fafnir stood, holding out a hand, which she grasped. “You look pretty. I like the gown.”
Red tinged her cheeks. “Thank you.” Her free hand smoothed over the front of her gown. “I haven’t worn this one in some time.”
“It looks good on you.”
“What did you bring?”
“The noon meal.” He picked up the basket, set it on the bench. “Keara made it for us.”
“How nice of her.” Ari glanced at the basket, her gaze pausing at his lips before focusing on his eyes. “I have just the perfect place to eat it.”
“Where’s that?”
“You’ll see.” Gifting him a grin, she touched his arm, transporting them a short distance to a walled-in garden. “This is my private garden. Was, I mean. For the High Priestess. Anyway, it’s pretty.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed like the right thing to say when faced with her resentment. Even if it meant lying.
She waved a hand as she walked toward a bench set on top of a stone patio. “What’s done is done. And you’re not really sorry.”
Apparently she liked reading minds. “I’m sorry you have to give all this up. But you are right, I will not apologize for claiming you as mine.”
“So what do we do now?”
He followed her to the patio, setting the basket on the bench. “Is there a table?”
“The bench is it. We can sit on the ground.”
Fafnir opened the basket, pulling out plates and utensils, setting the containers of food on top of the bench. “I must warn you. She put in a lot of spice.”
“Good. I like spice.”
He made a non-committal noise and wondered if she’d feel the same after the meal.
After heaping their plates with the food, they leaned against the bench, plates in their laps. Fafnir held his breath and stuck a fork full of food into his mouth. The spice hit his tongue like a wash of warmth. Hot, but not as hot as he feared. Maybe he could get through the meal without burping fire.
“Mmm. This is good. I’ll have to tell Keara.”
“Glad you like it.”
He shoveled another spice-laden bite into his mouth. What did he need to say to Aryana to convince her he was the better choice? To convince her not to resent him?
“I renounced my position. The contest for a new High Priestess starts day after tomorrow.”
“Are you upset?” Dumb, dumb, dumb. Fafnir gave himself a mental smack. Of course she was upset. What kind of question was that?
One finely shaped black brow rose as if questioning his intelligence. “It was…not as difficult as I feared. I managed not to throw up.”
“You were about to throw up?”
“It was a big announcement.”
Ah, the understatement of the year. Or century.
“I’m glad you made it.”
“As if I had a choice. It was either that or
have Alviss force the issue. No offense.”
“None taken. Do you even…” He swallowed, his words a thick paste on his tongue. “...want me?”
She choked on a cough and placed her plate on the ground. “What kind of question is that?” Her hand touched his leg, fingers stroking the muscle of his thigh. Fire spread outward, a tingle of desire centering between his legs, thickening his manhood. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “You know I want you.”
She might still resent him, but he could work with what she offered. One hand grasped her wrist, placing it on his hard length, while with his other he put the plate on the ground. Aryana’s eyes widened for a second before her lips turned up as if she found a treasure chest of gems.
“I want you too. Now and forever.” Cupping her face, he stroked the smooth skin of her cheek with his thumb. She met his lips, her kiss sending a jolt of desire through his veins.
Dropping his hand from her face, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her so she straddled his legs. She broke their kiss, her hands pushing against his shoulders until she met his gaze.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Hey, that’s my line.” He grinned. “Do you think I’d be here if it wasn’t?”
“I don’t want to stop.”
“I don’t either.”
“It’s just…I want you, so don’t take this the wrong way, but this isn’t how I saw my life playing out.”
“You never once thought of having a mate? Never? Not once?” Red tinged her cheeks as she lowered her gaze. Ah-ha. She had thought of him. “All right. If we’re being honest—”
“Which we should always be with each other.”
“All right, all right.” A grin played along the corners of her lips. “I wanted to be High Priestess so much, I just squelched the idea of having a mate. And I hated adults telling me what I had to do when I was a child. If they said go left, I went right, if only to show them. Pretty stubborn and stupid, eh?”
“No comment. That would be like the gem calling the gold valuable. Do you resent me for calling you on it?”
“Maybe. A bit. Giving things up is hard to do.”
“You enjoyed leading that much?”
Her gaze dropped to his chest as she untied the laces on his shirt. “If I’m being honest, not really. I enjoy the power that comes with the position. Of knowing I hold a drop of the Goddess’s power. That I can tap into that power when I want. It’s a rush.”
“Power can be seductive.”
“It is. But even that power can desert me. Like when Fasolt kidnapped me. I burned through the magic casting that easy spell continuously. Not sure why. I’ve never had that happen before.”
“Well, you’ve never been kidnapped before either.”
“There is that.” Her fingers stroked down his chest until they came to his waist. She pulled his shirt up, running her fingers across the skin of his stomach and upward, brushing over his nipples.
Fafnir moaned. “I’m not stopping.”
“Good.” She grabbed his shirt, yanked it over his head.
He pulled her lips to his, drinking in her kiss, her desire. Telling her through his touch of his love. His hands stroked from her waist to her breasts, thumbs rubbing across her pebbled nipples through her gown. The gown needed to go. He needed to touch her skin, see her body.
He reached a hand to her back, fingers searching for the laces of her gown and finding none. How did she get the gown on? Magic?
Clearly dragons in the middle of bed-play with their mates failed to think straight. Of course she used magic to put on a dress that had no laces. Which was rather nice of her. Made for easier removal.
With a snap of his fingers, her gown vanished, appearing next to them on the ground. She pulled back, one brow cocked.
“It appears my gown vanished.”
“Really? How do you suppose that happened?”
“Hmm. Maybe like this?” She snapped her fingers and his trousers joined her gown.
“Nice trick you have there.”
She kissed his neck, her tongue licking as she whispered a breath across the wet trail. Fafnir shivered. “It is, isn’t it?”
Her skin tasted salty as he licked his way from her neck, over the firm globe of her breast to pull her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. His hand pinched her other nipple, rolling it between thumb and finger in time to the pulsing of his tongue until she rewarded him with a moan.
Then he switched sides.
She clasped his head against her breast, her hip moving against his, rubbing his length against her core. He lowered a hand to her sweet spot, playing with the small bud of her pleasure while her hand fisted around his length. If she didn’t stop that, he’d explode before he made it inside her.
Peering up at her from lowered lids, he placed his hands under the globes of her arse and lifted. Taking his silent cue, she guided him to her wet entrance. A moan escaped her lips as he slid into the welcoming grasp of her warm core.
“You feel good.” Her whisper against his neck sent a shiver coursing through his limbs.
“So do you.”
Then she began to move, and he felt like his world tilted, shifted, until he lost all sensation of their separate bodies, only aware of the pleasure coursing through them. His mate. His love.
He pumped inside her, their hips moving together in an age-old rhythm. Sunlight sparked black diamonds in her hair as she rode him, head tilted back, her long hair brushing the tops of his thighs. His lips nipped her shoulder, at that sensitive place where the muscle joined her neck, licked higher where the large vein in her neck pulsed. The vein he’d bite to join their life-forces, to bond them together for eternity.
Would she let him?
“Do it,” she hissed, her breath in short punches as her pleasure slammed through her. Her inner muscles gripped him as she cried out, spasming around him, carrying him over the edge like a waterfall of bliss. His body locked inside hers, joined them as mates. His incisors elongated, a sharp pain necessary to bond, one he welcomed. The spot on her neck he licked glistened a silent request for him to bite. He took it, teeth cutting through her skin, into the vein beneath, blood flooding his mouth.
A sharp pain struck the side of his neck as Ari joined him in the bonding of their life-forces. The sip of blood exploded on his tongue like a bright fire, the essence belonging to her alone. As soon as he swallowed, his teeth retracted, returning to normal size, never to lengthen again. He licked at the wounds on her neck, felt her tongue do the same to him, and watched as they vanished, shrinking into small scars, a visible reminder of her being mated.
His. Forever.
A thrill rushed through his heart, filled his veins with an ecstasy he never realized existed. Clasping both arms around her waist, he held her against his chest, the warmth of her skin a soothing balm.
His manhood relaxed, and he slipped free of her wet embrace.
“It’s done then.” Was that regret he heard in her voice?
“I love you.” She needed to know their bonding meant more to him than instinct.
Her arms tightened around his neck, released. “I know. Where do we go from here?”
Not the words he wanted to hear. No reciprocation of his love. But she didn’t tell him to leave her alone either. He could work with that. The Goddess saw fit to drop Aryana in his life—literally—which meant she would learn to love him.
He hoped.
“We need to find a place to live.” His hand stroked the smooth skin of her back. “Then I need to see if I can get my position back in the cloth store.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that. What will I do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
Wrong thing to say. Fafnir gave himself a mental smack. He knew full well what she wanted to do. And no longer could.
Aryana slid off his lap, reaching for her gown. Air hit his bare legs, a cool shock after her warmth. She tossed him his trouse
rs and pulled her gown over her head, whispering a word to get it to fit her. Once dressed she shrugged.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“At all?”
“This has all moved a bit fast for me. I don’t know what I’m going to do. What work is available to a former High Priestess?”
Fafnir pulled on his trousers, leaving the laces undone, and reached for his shirt. “What is something you’ve wanted to do but never did?”
She paused, then shook her head. “I can no longer work in the various Temple positions as a priestess.”
“Keara and Lily work at the Temple and neither are priestesses.”
Her eyes narrowed, her gaze darting between him to some point behind him. “Something’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Keara or Lily working—”
“Not with them. Something’s wrong in the Courtyard.”
Fafnir stood, tying the laces of his trousers as he listened for anything not right. Birds tweeted happy tunes. Wind grazed yellow leaves, setting them rattling. A whiff of food and he glanced at the half-eaten meal. Nothing unusual.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. The priestesses are talking to me.”
“All of them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. One of them sees a Watcher approaching the gates.”
“We need to go see. Make sure he’s harmless.” Although in his experience Watchers were far from harmless.
She held out her hand and he grasped her palm. That simple touch stirred his blood and he wanted her again. Did all Draconi males feel this way about their mates? How did they ever manage to leave them? He wanted nothing more than to pull her down beside him and keep her there.
He needed to concentrate on the incoming Watcher, not fantasize about the many ways he could take his mate. Plenty of time for that later.
“Ready?”
He nodded, and she transported them to the Courtyard in sight of the entrance gates. When he saw the Watcher, he blinked, confused. The male looked like an older twin of Enar and for a second Fafnir thought it was Enar. Except Enar never seemed to raise suspicion of the priestesses. After all, they saw him plenty when he came to visit Lily.
“Viktor,” Aryana hissed.
Dragon Lover Page 20