by May Sage
She'd pushed and pushed for it, always proposing one of her packmates as a potential wife. At the back of his mind, Ash had shuddered, thinking that the moment he got the wolf bitch with child, he'd be as good as dead.
But as he hadn't married, they'd plotted to get rid of him nonetheless. Gragnar, ever his mother's creature, had hit him with a long-distance spell, leaving him for dead, and now they were making a move to seize the crown.
Ash wasn't entirely surprised. No king in Absolia had ever ruled without having to fight for their crown.
He was young, untested, and had to prove himself to a nation of powerful warriors.
Good. The dragon was in the right mood for that.
As he watched them all from his tower, his subjects stopped fighting, eyes on his beast.
The dragon arched its back and roared, a sound that made the ground shiver, the mountains quake. At once, dozens of knees hit the ground and weapons fell next to their owners, who submitted, heads bowed. Some remained on their feet. The dragons in the air remained where they were, assessing his next move.
So, Ash let his beast do what any Absolian king would have done in his place. He batted his wings, flying to the battlefield and picking up anyone who wasn't kneeling, throwing them hundreds of feet in the air, ripping arms, legs, heads off with his teeth, and eating those who didn't smell.
Landing in front of his mother, Ash slowly turned back into man. The woman had guts; always had. She was standing head high, looking him straight in the eyes.
Ash paced in front of her, assessing her.
She'd always been alpha to her pack. The moment she'd wedded his father, she'd become alpha of all Absolian wolves.
Ash turned his back on her like she didn't matter. She didn't.
"You will bow."
She laughed.
"You're my son. You wouldn't hurt me."
"I am your son. I would kill you and not think on it another second. But you will bow nonetheless, or I shall rip out the throats of all who follow you, starting with my dear cousin Gragnar."
He spared the mage a disgusted glance. "Don't tell me you've done all this just because you're fucking her."
The man looked down guiltily.
Ash saw more into it.
"She told you you'd be by her side if she won the throne?" Ash guessed, laughing. "Clearly you haven't paid attention to what happened to her last husband." Then all humor disappeared from his features as he grabbed Gragnar's neck and squeezed, too tight for him to attempt any sorcery. "Let us see if she cares. Bow."
His mother didn't flinch. Ash hadn't expected her to. He just relished seeing Gragnar's despair at realizing that she couldn't care less about him.
Poor boy. By that point, killing him would have been a kindness, and Ash didn't feel particularly magnanimous, so he let go of his neck. The mage fell forward, coughing.
"Who's the beta here?" Ash asked.
One of the kneeling men on the front row got to his feet, a young wolf, tall, broad, with a bear-tooth earring and long, silky hair.
He'd do.
"For your treachery, I will wed a dragon. I will wed a bear. I will exclude all wolves from the affairs of this kingdom and let you starve in the tundra come winter."
The wolves had it harsh in the south, hence the reason why the clans had been at war for so long: they'd tried to take the north, and of course the bears would not give it away.
Since the dragons had come and made one kingdom of all these lands, the wolves had been cared for, fed, and kept warm. There were dragons assigned to each of their packs, helping with their fires, hunting for them when the winter was too harsh.
It had been a thousand years since the wolves had to live through harsh winters without help, but many among them remembered. Wolves weren't naturally blessed with immortal lives, but those who formed a bond with immortals could live hundreds of years, like his mother, and long ago, Absolians had found ways to dilute their blood into immortality potions. The bravest wolves and bears had been blessed with such gifts. All trembled at the thought of returning to their darkest days.
"Mercy, my lord. We were told of your demise. I, or my people, would never have marched against you."
Ash could tell the beta was truthful.
"Very well. Kill her. Mercy for you and your people."
All but one.
Ash pointed to his mother. "Just kill her first."
The beta did not hesitate.
Ash may have liked him less if he'd simply taken his weapon and hit Milena without warning, but instead, he left it on the ground, and faced the woman. "I wish this didn't have to end. You were a good alpha, for a time. But the survival of our people is worth more than you. I challenge you."
An ignorant might have directly bet against Milena. She was shorter, a lot thinner, and her muscles weren't nearly as developed as the beta's. As soon as they shifted, trading skin for fur, all of that ceased to matter. Both wolves were around the same size; his mother, red, and the beta, white. The red wolf was the first to attack, viciously slashing against the white one's flank and attempting to go for the throat. The white wolf rolled on its back, pushing its head back to hit the red one against the frozen ground. They were both on their feet again. Milena growled, her sharp claws digging into the white wolf's back as she tried to mount him to get to his neck.
The white wolf twisted to face the alpha and surprised Ash by partially shifting one hand. He thrust it hard into the alpha's ribcage, and Milena whimpered as thick red blood dripped from his arm, turning his snow-white fur red.
Then, Ash's mother was nothing but a lump in front of the new alpha.
Ash smiled, stepping forward, and extended his arm to help him up. After a moment of hesitation, the beta gave it to him.
"Your name?"
"Archer."
"Well done, Archer. Go get some rest. Tomorrow, you'll be introduced as alpha of your kind, second only to me in this kingdom."
He could have killed Milena himself; but what would it have proved? Getting her kin to do it for him clearly stated that Archer was his to command.
The dragons had left the sky, gathering in the close-by trees to watch. The bears had observed from a safe distance. He'd established his dominance in front of all.
For now.
“What about him?” Archer asked, pointing to Gragnar.
Ash shrugged. “He shifts into a wolf. That makes him your problem, not mine. Just keep him away from me if you leave him breathing.”
Ash had killed enough family on principle for a day. With some luck, he wouldn’t regret his decision later.
Hunted
Ash was starting to get impatient with his dragon. One month of this should have been enough. They'd talked, acknowledging their difference of opinion: the beast wanted to mount their mate and pump a few dragonlings into her. Ash wanted to stay the fuck away from her and never see her again. And so, they were at an impasse. Ash had expected that the beast would misbehave for a time, but this was ridiculous. The dragon pushed to the surface at all times, and when Ash gave in, letting it fly, it took off to the east, clearly making for Farden.
Each time, Ash had regained the reins of their body and pulled it back home. But the beast's determination wasn't fading. If he wasn't careful, the pissed off dragon would take over, and then where would they both be?
Unhinged. Unsalvageable. Feral.
In many ways, his anger, short temper, and threatening growls had helped him since his return. No one was foolish enough to attempt to get on his nerves.
No one but Damion.
He found his rider tied in his dungeon after returning to his keep. Ash only laughed at him a couple of times before unbinding him.
Damion had, as expected, attempted to gather his warriors to come to his aid, after feeling that Ash was wounded, but instead, he'd only succeeded in making everyone decide to attempt a power grab. Gragnar had to use the help of another ten mages to restrain him, but they'd managed.
"If it makes you feel better, I also spent the best part of today in chains," Ash had said, smiling as he thought of Demelza.
His dragon hadn't been smiling, however. Not then, and not any day since. The beast was still pissed.
Damion was the only person bold enough to say anything that he didn't want to hear these days.
"Anything else?" Ash asked somewhat threateningly toward the end of his privy council meeting.
Everyone shook their head, looking away. Damion said, "Yes, actually. When you came back, a month ago now, you talked about finally picking wives. Or husbands. Someone. We're not fussy. But because you're unapproachable as fuck, they're bugging me about their candidates, so when, exactly, do you plan on announcing your choices?"
Ash glared, wishing he could intimidate his rider, for once.
To be truthful, he'd looked at the list of candidates proposed by all four races. Plenty of women—and men, as Damion had mentioned—were appealing enough. Some he knew, some, he'd already fucked in the past. But every time he so much as considered any option somewhat seriously, the beast inside him had roared in protest. There was only one woman it wanted, and none other would do.
"Soon."
"Soon?" Damion repeated irritably.
"As soon as you write to your sisters," Ash challenged somewhat nastily.
He'd shared all the details of his day in Farden with the rider, and Damion had carefully avoided talking about anything even remotely related to his sisters since.
And yet, Damion cheerfully replied, "Done. Someone bring me a pen and paper. Let's get going. And bring him a list of potential spouses."
Now, Ash growled. He'd underestimated how much the dragons, wolves, and bears were bugging Damion, apparently.
The council dissolved, and soon he and his rider were left alone, a stack of paper in front of Damion, a thick folder with portraits, names, and resumes in front of Ash.
Both men sighed as deeply and tragically as if they were about to enter an arena to fight to the death, and got to work.
"You're supposed to wed and bed three of the most attractive people in the realm, why the hell do you act like it's a punishment?"
Ash countered with, "You have loving sisters who can't wait to hear about you. Why the hell do you act like a spoiled brat?"
For a moment, Damion was silent. Then, he said, "They'll have questions. I'm not sure I have answers. I could have written at any time. I just didn't. I've taken the easy road for too long..."
Ash laughed. "Trust me, they don't care. You should have seen them. They just want to know their brother is fine."
Damion hesitated, and finally, started writing.
After a time, Ash said, "That woman. Demelza. She's my mate."
Damion nodded. "I guessed as much."
Ash lifted a brow.
"I'm linked to you, remember? It would have been hard to miss it. I was waiting for you to actually tell me."
Typical of his rider.
"That's why this," he said, pointing to the folders, "feels wrong. And why my dragon isn't interested in any of it."
Damion tilted his head. "She's your mate," he repeated. "Chosen by fate. Whatever wolf and bear you may pick, there is only one dragon for you."
Ash snorted.
"She will not accept a union that involves two other spouses. It is not in our nature. A human might have trouble with it, a wolf might hate it, a bear might revolt against it, but a dragon? We claim our treasures. And we do not share them."
Damion didn't protest again, shrugging as he returned to his letter, but Ash could tell he disagreed. Despite their link, Damion was human. Made immortal, and more powerful than most mages of human flesh, but human nonetheless. He simply didn't understand some facts about dragons.
Ash didn't know how many hours passed, but by the time a knock interrupted them outside of the council chamber, it was dark out. He noted that he'd dismissed about two hundred folders, leaving him with a manageable stack of ten. A considerable progress.
Surprisingly, Archer had made the cut to the last ten.
The leader of each clan immediately was included in the list of prospective spouses, if they were single. Ash had no intention of having a child with a wolf, if it could be helped. It had earned his father a knife to the chest, and his sister had been raised in exile because of it. Learning from history, he had every intention of making sure his heir wasn't of wolf blood. A male spouse would certainly help in that respect.
He was glad of the interruption when he heard the knock.
"Come in."
Archer walked in along with one of his guards. "Apologies if I'm interrupting."
"None necessary." Ash lifted a folder. "I didn't expect to see you in that list."
Archer shrugged. "It is customary."
Certainly, but no one forced men to sign up, if they were straight. Ash pushed. "And if I do pick you, would you be displeased?"
Archer chuckled. "If that were the case, you would not have found my name among these. Now may not be the best time to discuss this, however. I came to alert your guard that my wolves have scented a stranger traveling from the south, at high speed. We've attempted to track her, but my fastest wolves were found knocked out. She seemed to be headed here."
"She?" Damion repeated.
Archer inclined his head. "I scented a female."
None rivaled wolves when it came to their noses.
Ash's guard said, "I've doubled the watch for tonight and I'll call in reinforcements to your personal guard."
"No need," Ash stated.
The guard was understandable confused. "Sir?"
"Well, for one, we wouldn't want to find more unconscious people around the keep. That'd be embarrassing to our kingdom. And secondly, if you were to actually hurt her, I'd have to kill you all. Let her come to me."
There was only one woman who would be foolish enough to enter Absolia, knock out wolves under royal protection on her way, and head toward his keep.
Ash smiled.
Talk
Demelza had always been one to stand by what she believed; a nice way to say stubborn as hell. And she believed that she was going to get better. That Ash Dracul had no meaning whatsoever. He was just a hot stranger who hadn't been that into her, nothing more. In a few hours, a few days, a few weeks, she'd forget all about him. She'd said it to Sass. She'd told the same thing to Xandrie. And every night before sleep, she'd also told herself that, refusing to acknowledge any other option.
She had not given up. By midday, after a long day delivering a healthy babe to a grateful mother who lived through it, she'd simply had enough. Usually, succeeding in a delivery of a dragon was enough to make her ecstatic for days, or even weeks. Today, she hadn't even cared.
So, she simply decided that she'd get over her little crush on Ash after murdering him. Or pinning him between her legs, she hadn't decided which yet. It entirely depended on her mood when she reached him.
After all, he'd turned up in their kingdom without notice or invitation. It was past time someone retaliated.
She left at mid-day and flew southwest, avoiding the coast so as not to frighten the mortals of the Lakelands or the Sands, staying away from the walls erected around their oceans. The flight against the wind was surprisingly pleasant; Demelza loved the sea air and the unfamiliar landscapes. She knew that Absolia was on the west coast, and so she flew blindly, following the land until she'd reached it. She knew the moment she entered the kingdom, although there was no wall to speak of.
In the Sands, there had been plenty of villages, and in the distance, she'd seen thousands of mortals going about their mundane affairs. Absolia was emptied, or so it would seem at first glance from the sky. If there were settlements, they were hidden from view. For thousands of miles, she saw not a soul on two legs; animals and birds, yes, but no humans or shifters, and certainly no dragons.
Until she'd felt them, following her trail.
Demelza looked down to the forest and her keen eyes
managed to distinguish the wolves on her tail. They were good. Very good. Following, leaping from one ravine to the next, using the cover of trees and stones to take her by surprise. She let them think they did, until they tried to corner her when she flew low, leaping at each of her wings.
Then she evaded them by folding her wings at the last moment, and grabbed one with her talons, while taking the second in her mouth. She could have killed them both so effortlessly, but Elza chucked them back down to the ground, letting their bodies crash from a twenty-foot drop. They'd certainly feel it when they woke up from that landing.
Elza kept going north, eyes scouring the horizon until she saw it. A great beast of a city, hidden behind high walls and nestled on an imposing mountain. The dark rusty fencing couldn't have been less welcoming, but the real eyesore was the high castle, so tall its towers topped the mountains.
She snorted. Whoever had designed that phallic monstrosity had size issues.
A wiser dragoness might have landed at the entrance of the city and announced herself, but she headed right for the castle. She'd spotted many guards, armed to the teeth, and there was no saying how many dragons resided in this gigantic fortified city. If they intended to shoot her down, they would have done so already.
Elza's red beast gripped at the large climbing stones visibly designed for dragons at the side of the castle walls. She had to admit, that was smart thinking. Perhaps she could talk Rhey into getting a wall like that done. The beast started going up, glancing through the windows each time she reached a new floor. First, there were great halls and formal dining rooms, art rooms, music rooms, and training rooms, but toward the top of the tower, she reached living quarters, smaller around the thirtieth floor, grander and more luxurious as she went up.
Elza jumped on the balcony of the last floor and looked down to find a completely unsurprised man sipping wine, sitting on a high back chair.
If she'd met that man, she would not have mistaken him for a rogue. Instead of a worn gray cape, he wore cream clothes, spotless and lined with silver and purple. There was a simple white gold ringlet around his messy dark hair and his every movement bespoke arrogance.