Leyloni took in a deep breath. The words were raw, painful, but once she began speaking, she could not stop. “We had always known of the Bone Wraiths, had always heard stories, but we thought ourselves safe. We thought ourselves strong enough to defend against them. The skirmishes we had with them in the past had seen us victorious. Our valor and skill had always been able to overcome their savagery.
“Our home was secure and defensible. Our scouts were vigilant. The Moss Tribe was strong. But the Bone Wraiths came in the dead of night, and they struck with such stealth and precision that we did not know what was happening until they were already upon us.”
“The Bone Wraiths…they are another tribe of humans?” Arysteon asked, brow ridges low.
“They are no longer human, they are monsters,” Leyloni bit out. “They pillage and raid other tribes, stealing and raping males, feasting on human flesh, and wear the bones of their fallen foes like armor. Their blood has been corrupted by greed.”
Arysteon grunted, nostrils flaring. “Humans and dragons alike are capable of great cruelty. Many of my lost clanmates were killed by other dragons…but I cannot imagine the pain I would have felt to have lost them all in a single night.”
Leyloni shook her head. “The Wraiths took everything that night. Everything…except Serek. Our tribe rallied as best we could once we knew what was happening, but so many had already been slain, and the fires were spreading quickly. I was fighting alongside my sisters when we heard a cry from one of the huts. I raced inside to find Serek crying and his mother, Atalla, lifeless on the floor with one of the Wraiths standing over her.
“Atalla had been my closest friend since we were babes. I avenged her”—Leyloni could almost feel the warm blood spattering her skin again, could almost feel the fury that had blazed in her veins—“and gathered Serek, but when I emerged from the hut, it was clear that we had lost. The village was aflame, the trees were burning, and so many were dead or gravely wounded. Only a small group of defenders remained alive. My father, Havil, was amongst them.
“My father… He was unable to sire more children after an accident, and, not wanting to be a burden to our people, insisted he work, hunt, and fight alongside myself and the other huntresses. With males being so rare, tradition demands they do not place themselves at such risk, but we could not argue with him. He was the only male warrior our tribe has ever known. And he was there that night, fighting alongside our tribe sisters. I would have fought to the end with my sisters, with him—for he would not allow the Bone Wraiths to take him alive—but when he saw Serek in my arms he commanded me away.”
She turned her head and looked at the baby. He slumbered on his back with his face turned toward her, dark lashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks, lips parted. So sweet and innocent.
“Serek had become the only hope for our people,” she continued. “My father said saving Serek was more important than anything else. He told me to go to the Snow Tree tribe, told me how to find their village, and shoved me away.”
Leyloni faced Arysteon again, lifting her hand to brush away a fresh wave of tears. “I did not want to go, did not want to leave them to their fates. I am a huntress, a warrior…but I knew it was my duty to save Serek. I retrieved my satchel from my hut and ran. As I fled, my eyes stinging with smoke and Serek’s cries filling my ears, I looked back to see my father…to see him fighting the Bone Wraiths, matching their ferocity, surpassing it.
“He knew I was still there, watching, torn. He met my eyes for an instant before he turned his knife on himself. He could provide us no more time, lest he be taken and suffer a far worse fate.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but that could not block out the memory of the blade sinking into her father’s chest. “I turned away and kept running, uncertain of whether the Bone Wraiths had seen us, uncertain of whether they were giving chase. So, I kept moving, stopping only when I had to tend Serek, only when I could walk no farther. We traveled for three days before…before you.”
Arysteon made a gentle hum—a thoughtful, soothing sound—prompting Leyloni to open her eyes.
He was studying her with that ancient gaze, which flicked briefly to Serek before returning to her. “Rest, Leyloni, while it is still dark. Use your time here to let your body recover. I will venture out to find something more filling to eat. Humans eat meat, do you not?”
Her eyes flared in surprise, and her stomach cramped at the thought of a real meal. “You would do that? For us?”
“Gladly.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Leyloni released her legs and leaned toward Arysteon, reaching out to settle her hand upon his snout.
Her breath hitched, and she stopped herself an instant before she could touch him.
Arysteon did not move save to dip his eyes toward her hand and exhale through his nostrils. His breath was warm against her arm.
Leyloni yanked her hand back.
“You are welcome, Leyloni,” Arysteon said softly. “Rest, and fear not the forest’s other beasts while I am away. My scent will keep them at bay. I will return as soon as I am able.”
Whatever thoughts must have been racing behind those draconic eyes were masked to her; he showed no sign of alarm, no sign of anger, only that same understanding with which he’d behaved since he’d rescued them from the treestalker. But there was just a hint of sorrow in his voice—a hint of disappointment.
Was he upset that he’d trusted her only to have that trust nearly broken, or…
Or had he wanted her to touch him?
She didn’t know how to ask him those questions. All she could do was watch as he lifted his head, pushed himself up on his legs, and turned away, the reflected light on his scales fading as he exited the cavern and vanished into the darkness.
Leyloni slipped under the blanket, laid down, and brushed a fingertip across Serek’s cheek. She closed her eyes but remained awake long after Arysteon had left. It wasn’t for fear that they’d be attacked—she trusted his word about his scent protecting them—and she was not thinking about the food that Arysteon might bring back. Her thoughts were on the dragon himself.
What if she had touched him?
That question swirled through her mind ceaselessly, spawning even more questions. Were the stories true? Would he have changed? Would she have tied him to her forever?
What would Arysteon look like as a man?
No matter how hard she tried, she could not envision him as a human—nothing except for his eyes. Those beautiful, glowing, violet eyes, which so often looked upon her with longing and lust.
Unbidden, heat flared within her core, and a sudden ache bloomed between her thighs. Leyloni’s eyes opened wide in the darkness, and she clutched the blanket in her fist as she realized what was happening.
I am lusting for a dragon.
6
The predawn forest was cast in deep shadows that made it seem dark even to Arysteon’s keen eyes. These woods were always alive with sound—the songs of birds and insects, calls from all manner of beasts, the sighing of wind through the boughs and the gentle rustling of foliage. But today, the patter of raindrops on wood, leaf, earth, and stone reigned over all else, just as it had since the storm had begun two days before. The rain’s drumming was somehow steady and erratic at once, a droning broken by frequent bursts and lulls in speed.
The sound of rain falling on Arysteon’s scales was perhaps the most unique of all. He felt it more than he heard it, the sensation heightened by the faintest charges of lightning in each drop.
She nearly touched me.
That thought repeated over and over as Arysteon stalked between the trees. Each time it echoed, the scales of his snout tingled. Leyloni’s hand had been so close—close enough that he’d felt the warmth radiating from her skin. The slightest movement would have closed that infinitesimal distance between them, and he would have felt her for the first time, scale-to-skin.
Focus. I must focus on the hunt.
Arysteon raised his head spines. The smalle
st of them, which were the farthest forward, were particularly sensitive to the storm’s electric charge—and they also best sensed the flow of air around him.
The wind had eased significantly from the gale force it had achieved during the storm’s peak, but it was unmistakable—and he was still moving against it. That was good. Even though the rain was dulling most other smells, it was not eliminating them fully. With the wind in his favor, he’d scent his prey before it could scent him.
He extended his tongue and lapped in air, pressing the smells to the roof of his mouth. There was something there—deer or elk, perhaps—but he would have to follow the scent until it was stronger before he could know for certain.
He had tracked Leyloni and Serek in the same fashion.
She nearly touched me.
Arysteon gritted his teeth against the ache in his heart. Flattening his spines, he pressed onward, feeling out each step with a speed born of familiarity. He’d hunted this territory for over two centuries. He knew it no matter the conditions.
He sampled the air with his tongue every few steps, altering his course based on the scents he detected. Lightning pulsed overhead, providing fleeting illumination. Though it was far off, Arysteon felt its energy, felt a little of it seep into him, amplifying his spark. Several heartbeats later, thunder boomed.
The scales on Arysteon’s snout warmed. Before long, they were crackling with a hint of his spark.
Was that how Leyloni’s touch would have felt? Was the bond formed between dragon and human by touch—the bond he had been warned of throughout his youth—somehow tied to his inner spark?
A branch snapped somewhere ahead. Arysteon froze. Had the sound been caused by the passage of an animal, or had it simply been a tree limb giving up after days of punishing wind and rain?
Arysteon lay as flat as he could, unbothered by the gnarled roots and chunks of stone under his belly, and listened, seeking anything separate from the rain’s unrelenting patter. His thoughts swiftly returned to Leyloni. To that almost-touch.
He knew it would have meant changing, would have meant becoming more like her, but what would that entail? How would it happen? How could a dragon become more human?
And once that change occurred…would he ever be a dragon again?
Those ominous warnings from the elders might have done well with some supporting details.
When it seemed no other sounds would rise over the rain, Arysteon pushed himself up and continued forward.
Fresh lighting lit the sky and filled it with crashing thunder. Arysteon paused again, tasted the air, and closed his eyes in concentration as he sorted the tangled web of smells. His chest warmed in delight as he focused on one of those scents—elk. A full-grown elk was adequate as a single meal for him, but it would provide a feast for his human.
That notion prolonged his pause.
His human. His humans.
Was that what Leyloni and Serek had become over the last couple days? It seemed impossible to have developed such possessiveness over them so soon, seemed foolish to allow himself to get attached to creatures so short lived and fragile, but thinking of them in that manner felt right. They were his. They were his clan.
Arysteon’s spark flared, its thrum permeating his body. Perhaps he’d grown so quickly attached to these humans simply because he’d been alone for so long, perhaps it had been due to his desperation for a purpose, for redemption—for a clan to protect. Perhaps it was because, for all her drive and determination, Leyloni seemed just as lost, just as broken, as he sometimes felt.
Perhaps it was simply the light in her beautiful green eyes.
He never could have imagined that a human would be so appealing to him, and yet he had often found himself unable to look away from her. How much more of her beauty would he be able to see up close, on her level? What details was he missing from his current perspective?
Could he give up what he was, give up his immortality, for her?
That question pierced his heart and sank deep into his chest, bearing all the weight of a mountain. There was nothing simple about any of this, nothing insignificant, and none of the answers were without their own consequences.
Arysteon shook himself, shedding water from his scales—but his heavy thoughts could not be shed so easily. With a soft growl, he pushed onward, slinking through the shadowy forest, through the rain and gloom, in his pursuit of that strengthening scent.
His efforts to focus solely upon the hunt were unsuccessful. All those questions loomed in the back of his mind, flowing to the forefront each time that original thought echoed.
She nearly touched me.
When this storm finally cleared—later today or on the next day, by the feel of it—Leyloni and Serek would move on, and Arysteon would be alone. These humans had given him a taste of life with a clan again. They’d granted him that sense of belonging, had reminded him how nice it was to have someone near, even through the silence. They’d reminded him of how it felt to care for others and be cared for in return. All that in two days.
He slowed as the elk scent grew stronger still. It had been lent a certain muskiness by the rain, that peculiar smell fur assumed when it was wet. Leyloni’s hair had not taken on that scent even when soaked. Was that why humans had separate words for the fur on their bodies and that on other creatures?
Arysteon liked Leyloni’s hair. It was wild, fiery, and looked so soft.
Remaining low, Arysteon crept forward, extending and retracting his tongue repeatedly to keep the scent trail as clear as possible. Even if the storm had eased enough to coax elk out of hiding, the animals were most likely sheltering through the darkest hours of the night. Though these conditions dulled Arysteon’s senses somewhat, they were advantageous—they had the same dulling effect on his prey’s senses, and additionally would mask his scent and the sounds of his passage.
Arysteon drew himself between two large trees, scanning the forest for signs of his prey. It was only because of his heightened state of awareness that he noticed the infinitesimal lightening of the sky. Dawn was approaching—which meant his prey was likely to be on the move soon.
His heart thumped slow and steady, his limbs were languid, and his spark, despite his deepest thoughts, remained a low, controlled hum. The calm that had settled over his body was nothing new—it was simply the calm before the storm. This was that instant of quiet and stillness before a lightning strike.
The elk scent had become so strong that he could smell it clearly without using his tongue. His eyes settled upon a thicket ahead. That was the place; he knew without seeing them that not one elk, but several, were sheltering there.
Further slowing his movements and his breathing, Arysteon advanced on the thicket. His predatory instincts, which always lurked at his core, rose to the surface, forcing out all conscious thoughts but one.
She nearly touched me…and I wanted it.
Leaves rustled just ahead; something was moving in the undergrowth.
Arysteon’s muscles coiled, his spines flared, and he leapt into the thicket. His body crashed through the overgrown vegetation, creating a cacophony that drowned out the storm.
The ensuing chaos was almost indecipherable, but Arysteon didn’t need to think. Several animals scrambled out of the thicket, their hooves pounding the sodden ground with all the panic that must’ve been pumping the creatures’ hearts.
Arysteon pushed out of the thicket. The fleeing elk were easily discernable even in the slowly fading gloom. His gaze fixated on the largest animal of the bunch, and he gave chase.
As fast and graceful as the elk was, it could not match Arysteon’s speed. Arysteon plowed through the obstacles his quarry was forced to navigate. Within a few heartbeats, he was close enough to strike. The air was redolent of the majestic animal’s fear; that scent always managed to break through Arysteon’s instincts and strike him with a pang of sorrow.
He swept his head down, clamping his mouth on the elk from overhead. Before the animal’s terror
could explode, Arysteon bit down. His teeth sank into flesh and crunched bone. The final breath flowed from the creature’s lungs, its struggles ceased, and it fell limp.
Arysteon released a huff through his nostrils. The tang of the elk’s blood upon his tongue made his stomach growl in anticipation. He’d not eaten in days, but it was not yet time for him to eat. He had to ensure his human took all she needed from this meat before he allowed himself to partake.
Lifting a hand, he adjusted the elk to take a more secure hold of it in his mouth. Once it was better balanced, he turned and started back toward his lair. The heat that had built in him during the brief pursuit was soothed by the cool rain.
Now that he’d caught food, he could not hold back his thoughts concerning Leyloni, and he could not ignore where they had gone just before he’d attacked the elk.
He wanted her to touch him.
Two days seemed far too short a time to have come to such a realization, especially when his life had spanned centuries, but it was his truth.
A thoughtful hum vibrated in his throat; he knew with jarring certainty that it was the first note of a new song—of that mating song he had felt within himself after bringing Leyloni to his lair.
And the song was for her. None of the questions that had plagued him, none of the doubts he should have harbored, seemed to matter. As complex as the situation appeared, it really was quite simple.
Leyloni and Serek were Arysteon’s chance at having a clan again. He could be their protector, their provider, their family. He could reclaim the meaning and purpose he’d lost. And, perhaps, by helping her ensure her people had not died in vain, he could find a modicum of redemption for failing to see his kin to this place of peace and plenty.
But even more than all that, he wanted to be able to look into Leyloni’s pale green eyes any time he so desired. He wanted to hear Serek’s delighted giggles and witness the hatchling’s clumsy steps gain confidence over time. He wanted…
To Love A Dragon; Venys Needs Men Page 6