Dragon Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

  “Any relation to Enar?”

  “His father.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “He’s cruel. He claimed Ayla, Enar’s mother, knowing she was a Draconi and abused her. We just released her a month ago. She’s been living here at the Temple until she recovers.”

  “Enar has Draconi blood?” At her nod a memory slammed into his mind. “Ayla wouldn’t happen to have ceremonial scars on her face, would she?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I saw her in the gardens while waiting for you.”

  Steam snaked from Aryana’s ears. “He’s after her. Alviss banished him from the Council and freed Ayla from his control. He’s supposed to leave her alone. Bloody idiot Watcher.” She started for the male.

  Fafnir grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m still the High Priestess. It’s my responsibility to greet visitors.”

  “Even when they’re cruel Watchers? What happens if he attacks you?”

  “I’m still the High Priestess. Remember all that power I was talking about? I’ll fry his cruel arse if he tries anything. Let me go.”

  Against his better judgment, he released her arm. “If he makes a move on you, I’ll fry his arse for you.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate that. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he saw Aryana, Viktor stomped toward her. “Where is she?”

  “Where is who?”

  “Ayla! My claim! You took her from me and I demand her back.”

  “You can’t have her back. Be gone with you.” Ari waved her fingers, gesturing toward the gate.

  Viktor snarled and Fafnir took a step forward. “She belongs to me and I want her. Now.”

  “No. Leave.”

  Viktor didn’t move, his snarl morphing into a crazy smile. He yanked a dagger out of a sheath, brandishing it before her face.

  “Titanium, bitch. Your spells don’t work on me. Now give me that bitch I claimed and I’ll let you go.” Before Fafnir could move, Viktor grabbed Aryana, dagger pricking the skin of her throat.

  A snarl twisted his lip, steam poured out his ears as his body expanded. He felt the transformation sweep through him riding a wave of panic. If he changed, he could very well be stuck in dragon form. Changing was on the top of the do-not-attempt list. But what other choice did he have? His mate was in danger. His mate could die. What kind of male would he be if he didn’t protect his mate?

  Fafnir took a deep breath and roared, the change sweeping over him in a rush of lengthening bones and hardening scales until he stood as a dragon. An enraged, fighting-for-its-mate dragon.

  Beware the male Draconi.

  Something this Watcher was about to learn the hard way.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aryana gasped as the cold knife bit into her skin. This recurring experience of being a victim needed to end. In the last several days she’d been caught in a fight with rogue attackers, captured by an unstable Draconi, and now a deranged Watcher held her in his grasp. To make matters worse it appeared his dagger was made from titanium.

  When she spoke her spell, he paid no attention. None. For all he noticed, she might as well have not spoken. What choices existed without using magic? The only things left to a trapped magic-less priestess were telepathy and turning into a dragon.

  Maybe she could reach inside his mind, tunnel past his defenses, and shut down his higher functioning. Something she’d never tried to do before.

  Why hadn’t she paid more attention when Thoren tried to teach her self-defense? Oh, right. Why bother with hand-to-hand combat when she could speak a word and send an attacker tumbling?

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. And now she must pay for all that pride.

  She grabbed Viktor’s forearm, trying to pull the knife away from her throat, but tugging on his arm seemed harder than pushing a boulder up a hill. He didn’t budge. The air around Fafnir shimmered, drawing her attention to her mate, her fingers white-knuckling Viktor’s arm.

  He couldn’t change. According to Keara, if Fafnir changed into a dragon, he might never return to human form. Not even with that complicated spell she worked. What would she do without him in her bed? Without sharing a home? With never hearing his voice again? Her gut cramped, froze right up along with her heart and lungs, as if someone dunked her in freezing water.

  Her mate was about to sacrifice his form. For her.

  In that instant, watching his bones elongate, watching as scales covered his skin, as he roared a ground-shaking warning, she realized she loved him. More than her life. More than keeping her secret.

  And she never even told him how much she cared.

  What a fool she’d been, giving greed for power precedent over loving her mate.

  Her shout of “No!” died on her lips as Viktor’s knife cut deeper into her skin. Pain marbled with fear shot across her nerves. Wetness leaked from the tip of his dagger, trickled down her throat, her chest. If she didn’t do something, he would kill her.

  And then Ayla darted out of the gardens, apparently attracted to the roar of an enraged male dragon, freezing as she saw Viktor.

  The female drew in a trembling breath as color drained from her face. “Viktor?”

  “Come over here, bitch. Don’t just stand there like a fool.”

  Ayla’s gaze darted from Viktor, to Fafnir to the cluster of priestesses standing useless by the gates. She took a step forward. Stopped. “Let her go, Viktor. It’s not her you want.”

  “Of course it’s not her I want, you stupid cow. It’s you. But it’s your fault I have her. You left me. Now move your arse. Come here.”

  Ayla took a step toward him, her face the color of her white gown, her hands trembling like leaves in the wind. Fear morphed into anger as Aryana watched Ayla give a panicked glance to Fafnir and the cluster of priestesses hovering near the gates. As if an opened scroll, Aryana saw intent written in the ceremonial scars of her face, saw the moment Ayla believed the priestesses valued their own lives over hers. Clearly she didn’t realize how titanium affected Draconi.

  The press of the knife slackened as Viktor reached his other arm toward Ayla, releasing his grip on Aryana’s waist. No better chance to escape than now.

  She twisted, forcing the knife off her skin and stepped hard on Viktor’s foot. He stumbled and the knife slashed through the muscle in her upper arm.

  Pain slammed into her, streaking out from the gash in her arm, bringing with it a dose of murderous rage. How dare he hurt her? How dare he come here to terrorize and destroy? Ayla had just started to trust the priestesses after a month of living with them.

  Fire shot outward along her veins, rippling her skin into scales, elongating her face into a snout as change twisted through her body. Bones snapped, lengthened, changed, until she stood on four legs, leathery wings beating eddies in the dirt, a snarl displaying her new vicious set of teeth. Teeth that she snapped together, sending Viktor hopping backward, his feet tangling under him until he sprawled on the ground, a look of this-can’t-be-happening smeared on his face.

  Ayla’s eyes flared and stayed that way, her feet rooting her in place as her mouth fell open. Fafnir stopped chuffing, apparently deciding his impending fireball might char Aryana on its way to Viktor.

  Smart thinking. Did scales protect against fireballs? What about leathery wings? Something told her even if the scales protected her, the wings would still char.

  The low hum of shocked chatter echoed from behind and she turned her head. Oh, great. It seemed like the Council arrived right in time to see her change. Now what? What were the consequences of everyone knowing her little secret?

  Surprise and dismay appeared to be the consequence winners. At least for the moment. The priestesses had been less stunned over the mate announcement. And the Council. As one that group of Watchers and Draconi stared at her as if they’d never seen a dragon. Judging by the look on Alviss’s face, it was a wonder the old male hadn’t died from a stopped heartbeat.

  No more glo
ating for him. She roared, flapping her wings.

  Are you hurt?

  Aryana shifted so she faced a snarling Fafnir. No. Cuts, nothing life threatening.

  Watch out!

  She glanced down in time to see Viktor slash at her front leg with his dagger. Did the fool not give up? A stomp of her foot and he screamed, his arm trapped against the ground, while a sense of pleasure exploded through her at his terrified look.

  Take that, bastard.

  You’ve made an impression on the Council.

  Aryana darted a glance at the still unmoving group of males. Not for long. They’ll snap out of it. She paused, her eyes narrowing on Fafnir. Anger frayed the edges of her temper. Why did you change? Keara said…

  I know what she said. Did you expect me to stand by while he attacked you? You’re my mate. What kind of male would I be if I did nothing?

  The kind who could share my bed, sat on the edge of her thoughts, but she refrained from mind-speaking the words. She hated to admit it, but he spoke true. Her respect for him would have plummeted if he hadn’t tried a rescue. The anger coursing through her veins fizzled with that realization.

  He loved her enough to risk his form.

  What more could a female want?

  “Release him!”

  Aryana started, surprised to see Alviss standing beside her. Nice to know the old male recovered his shock. Not so nice to know he snuck up on her without her realizing he moved. She lifted her leg, freeing Viktor’s trapped arm, while Alviss gestured at the downed Watcher.

  “Oren, take him to the Chambers. We will deal with him later.”

  Oren squatted by Viktor, his blue eyes glittering rage. “He’s injured.”

  “Do I look like I care? He escaped confinement, went after his ex-claim, hurt the High Priestess in the process, and all he got was a broken arm? I told you a month ago he should have been killed for his treatment of Ayla, but you insisted on keeping him alive. Get him out of my sight before I do something you’ll regret.”

  Oren pulled Viktor’s uninjured arm around his shoulders, lifting the whimpering Watcher to his feet and sticking the titanium dagger into his belt. After giving Aryana a glare that stabbed her straight to her marrow, he turned, leading Viktor toward the back gate, where they disappeared from view.

  “Now,” Alviss tapped her leg with his cane, “explain yourself.”

  Before she thought of a reply, Fafnir growled, snarling in the direction behind Alviss. Aryana craned her neck to see the mass of priestesses and Council members creeping closer, staring at her as if she was the main attraction in an oddity show.

  Which she was. Since when did females change into dragons?

  Aryana sighed. She should have let Fafnir handle Viktor instead of changing. But how was she to know a dose of righteous anger mixed with a bounty of fear led to a transformation? Well, she’d learned her lesson. No more scary situations for her.

  “Well?” Alviss repeated the leg tap.

  It started years ago. During the Harvest ritual. But I never changed outside of the ritual until I went to Goleb. Then it just happened when I was attacked. Like it did today. I don’t know why. Or how for that matter.

  “And you never thought to mention it to me?”

  Why should she? Fafnir stepped forward. It’s Temple business.

  “I would think a female turning into a dragon would be more than Temple business.”

  Do you want people to know about Keara too? Aryana raised an eyeridge.

  What about my daughter?

  Lips pursed, Alviss narrowed his eyes. He doesn’t know?

  It’s not my secret to tell.

  What. About. Keara? Smoke drifted out Fafnir’s nostrils.

  She’s a death raiser. Alviss spoke only to them as he leaned on his cane. I consent, you’ve made your point. Clearing his throat, he addressed everyone. “We will not speak of this…occurrence today. Is that understood?”

  Aryana wondered if he sent a spell alongside his words since the crowd nodded in unison. All the better. She needed to speak with Fafnir. Alone.

  Unfortunately, Alviss wanted more answers. “Why did you allow him to capture you in the first place? Why not cast a spell?”

  Ayla inched closer, almost even with Fafnir, clearly intrigued by their conversation. Aryana projected her thoughts to the female, wanting her to understand why none of the priestesses came to her rescue.

  He had a titanium dagger. Ayla, that renders our magic useless. That’s why no one came.

  Ayla stilled, her gaze darting to the crowd and back to Aryana. She nodded. Good. They had worked hard to build that female’s trust and she didn’t want to see it dashed to nothing.

  Ayla appeared to be the only person happy with her statement. After Alviss repeated her words, the Council spoke in loud tones until he raised a hand.

  “We will need to search the Watcher village again. This time for titanium weapons. Erase their memories if you must, but collect all the weapons. We cannot have that threat in Draconia. Go.”

  With one last glance her way, the Council members vanished, presumably to carry out their leader’s orders. Now if she could just get rid of Alviss and the priestesses, she could be alone with Fafnir. Assess the damage. Know if she would ever see his smiling face, run her fingers through his curly hair, feel his touch upon her skin.

  “I need to speak with these two alone. You are dismissed.” Alviss waved a hand at the priestesses and Aryana felt their ire in small prickles along the nape of her neck. Good thing looks couldn’t kill.

  Annaliese caught her eye and Aryana gave her friend a nod. She wanted to be alone with Fafnir too, but in her world alone meant minus Alviss.

  “Father, she’s hurt. He cut her arm and pricked her neck. I’m going to heal her, then you can talk.”

  “Oh. Of course, of course.”

  And, of course, he would not apologize for not noticing. Leaders of the Council apparently refused to admit mistakes.

  When she finished healing the small cut in Aryana’s neck and the gash in her arm, which was now her leg, Annaliese held out a hand to Ayla.

  “Come along, Ayla. Let’s get you inside.” Ayla gave the two males darting glances before straightening her shoulders and quick stepping between them. As soon as she grabbed Annaliese’s hand, the priestess transported them into the Temple. A quick glance showed the crowd of priestesses and acolytes pressed against the windows of the dining room and meeting room.

  So much for Alviss’s dismissal.

  “When will you mate?”

  As soon as you leave. Fafnir’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his father.

  “The ceremony, son. Not the activities surrounding it.”

  Fafnir glanced her way, his wink hidden from Alviss. We will have the ceremony as soon as the new High Priestess is selected. Isn’t that right, Ari?

  Aryana swallowed, trying not to chuckle. No telling how that would sound in her current form. Yes. In two days is the selection and then soon after that we’ll hold the mating ceremony.

  Alviss beamed. “Good, good. Now my daughter can finally be where she should. I will see you at the ceremony. There are things I must attend to. Bloody titanium.” A pop later and he disappeared.

  He’s going to be surprised when Annaliese isn’t High Priestess. Ari flashed her incisors.

  What do you mean?

  She doesn’t want the position.

  Oh, ho. I want a front seat for that telling. Can you imagine the look on his face?

  All too well. Her lip curled off her teeth as she thought of Alviss’s dream being crushed. Served him right, meddling old male.

  Who was now her father-by-mating.

  And didn’t that just take the wind out of her wings?

  She sighed. Instead of gloating, she should be concerned about her mate. What kind of female was she not to ask after Fafnir? A bad one, that’s what.

  Not only did she not ask, but she still hadn’t told him she loved him. Something she would remed
y. As soon as she changed back.

  Taking a deep breath, she found that spark of magic inside, the one holding her form, the one fueling her change. She brought the human form hiding inside to the surface, exchanging it for the dragon. Bones shortened, flesh eclipsed scales, her snout shrank into her face. Pain blossomed, dispersed, as her clothed human form appeared.

  She walked to Fafnir, ran her hand down his snout, the small scales smooth under her fingers. “I love you.”

  He blinked. You do?

  “Don’t look so shocked.”

  I didn’t believe you did. I thought you felt obligated to mate with me.

  “I did. At first. I felt trapped. Forced to do something I didn’t want. But the truth is, I wanted a mate. I wanted you. Ever since you landed in the Temple Courtyard a month ago I wanted you with a desire I never felt toward another. But I realized I loved you when you changed. When you risked something important to you for me.”

  Do you still resent me?

  “No. Our fates were woven together before our lives began. Trouble comes when we don’t follow the path set out for us by the Goddess.”

  Not all bad came out of it. I have a daughter because I failed to follow fate’s path.

  “And I had a position and title I loved. But power is seductive and convinces you to be something you aren’t. Besides, I’m tired of all the attacks on me lately. I need a break from the action.” She grinned, meaning to put him at ease, but instead he shuddered.

  I’m tired of those attacks too. I don’t like seeing my mate injured.

  “Nor do I.”

  You need to think about what you want to do since you can’t be High Priestess.

  “You were right earlier. Throughout Temple history, others served without being priestesses. Maybe I can work in the archives. Did you know how many scrolls are aging, crumbling to pieces? Think of all the spells lost. I can help copy them, preserve our history.”

  I never realized that. But you’d be good at preserving history. You can write yourself into some of those stories. The female who changed into a dragon.

  “And then those stories could fade into fables.”

  Maybe that’s how fables began.

  “Perhaps.” A quick pat on his flank and she stepped back. “Try to change.”