“So, I wouldn’t see you again?”
“No. No chance of becoming mates.”
Aaron concentrated on his beer.
It would be for the best. Maybe way back when magic had first appeared, the bond had been a useful thing. Witch and shifter working together, increasing the odds of survival for both kinds. But the bond had left him, and his sister, orphaned. He couldn’t risk his sister being left alone.
“Fine. I’ll look at the egg.” Aaron drained his beer and stood, scooping up the ring and shoving it in his pocket.
“Tonight?”
“Got other plans?”
Prys finished his beer in a gulp. “No.”
If it worked, he wasn’t ready to look after a baby and he had no idea how long he’d have until she hatched. But he wasn’t going to refuse the offer when it was the only one he’d get.
*
The hotel room was dark and quiet. He flicked on the light, anxious to check that his sister was where he’d left her. But need to touch the witch that could be his mate rode him, hard. However, that would lead to a kiss and then things would be complicated, and they’d agreed there’d be none of that. Prys’s fingers curled as he tried to find calm and failed.
“It’s a very nice room.” Aaron walked around the bed and stood in front of the window to stare out at the Swan River. “I spend half my life in cheap hotels.”
“Performing doesn’t pay well?”
“I get by, though my parents hate it. I don’t want to end up like my father, in a job he hates with magic he can’t use.” Aaron sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers over the sheets in a way that was far too enticing. He stopped and glanced up. “This bond, it’s an actual thing I can feel swelling inside me. I shouldn’t be in your room.”
“It wants to be completed.” Now they were alone together it would be too easy to stumble and kiss him. “But we can both resist. We are not helpless in this.” Prys turned away and opened the wardrobe to get to the safe. He punched in the code and held his breath, but of course she was there.
Carefully he took the egg out and cradled her. He’d carried her halfway around the world. The hope of all the dragons—which was only him.
Aaron gasped. “That is beautiful! Why would the other witch steal it?”
“Her. Imagine having your own captive dragon, far better than a wolf shifter.”
“How do you know it’s a she in there?”
“My mother knew, I don’t know how.”
“Your mother was a dragon and laid eggs…and your father?”
“Was a fire witch who hatched us when the time was right. That’s how it works. Dragons need fire witches.”
Aaron put out his hands. “Can I?”
This wasn’t the same as last time, but Prys still couldn’t hand his sister over. Instead, he sat next to Aaron on the bed. “You can touch her…tell me what you feel.”
“How do you know she’s still alive in there?”
“Dragon eggs can be dormant for centuries.”
“So, there could be more out there?”
That was something Prys didn’t let himself think about too much. “Maybe in private collections. If so, they don’t know what they have.”
Aaron put his hand on the coppery egg and closed his eyes. He sat there for several heartbeats then opened one eye. “I got nothing.”
Even though she was dormant, Prys could still feel her. Sleeping her life away before she’d had a chance to live. He sighed. Maybe the magic had been lost because he’d waited too long, hoping to give her a family at first, now just wanting to give her life.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t wake her.” Aaron glanced up. “Did you ever see what your dad did?”
“No, because I was in the egg the last time he hatched one.”
“Oh. Maybe it’s heat related?”
Prys shook his head. “If it were heat, I could breathe on her.”
“You can breathe fire?”
“Of course.” There were many similarities between fire witches and dragons. In the past some had said they were the same blood, but one was unable to shift forms. “But only as a dragon.”
“I really want to—”
“I’m not shifting for you.” For a start he’d have to get naked and that would be a terrible idea, worse than sitting this close, because all his body wanted was to claim his mate. The urge was much stronger this time, like he was drowning, and he wanted to give in even though he knew it would lead to death. That, and shifting was a kind of awkward mess that was best done with privacy.
Aaron patted the egg, then pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry. I’m just a fire dancer, who happens to be a witch.” He laced his fingers. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know.” Prys’s chest hollowed. He pinned everything on finding the fire witch who could be his mate. He hadn’t considered that the witch wouldn’t be able to help him. He hugged his sister tighter.
“I should go.” Aaron stood.
Prys couldn’t move. He didn’t look up as the door opened and then softly clicked closed. His mate, and his sister’s chance at living, gone. Did he go back to sleep and hope for a third chance, risking never waking…or did he live knowing that he was last of his kind and that he’d failed?
It was only when he curled up on the bed, holding the egg close, that he saw the gold ring on the bed sheet.
No job done. No payment taken.
*
Aaron walked along the dark city street. The occasional car passed him, but no one bothered him. If they did, he wasn’t worried about what would happen if he were attacked. Most people feared fire and burns.
He’d never been able to share what he did with anyone. He turned and stared at the hotel and walked a couple of paces backward. What could’ve been a great evening had been a disaster. He’d never been much of a witch, certainly not familiar worthy. Add in the fact he liked men, not women, and the odds went down again. But the Fates were fickle.
He did not need a dragon, or magical bullshit. Prys wasn’t the only guy in the world with a sad story. But he was the only guy in the world who was supposed to be the dragon’s. He’d only felt the tickle of longing when Prys had been watching the show, but Prys had felt the connection from the other side of the world.
Every step he took away from Prys felt wrong.
No, he wasn’t going back. He turned away from the hotel and walked on.
The familiar bond was rather more permanent than a lust driven one-night stand.
But the look on Prys face as he’d walked out, like his entire world had ended. That had cut him to the core and was something he’d never forget. And he was making a mistake that was far bigger than dropping out of uni to join the circus.
He spun and stared at the hotel. Willing himself to walk away and forget about the last dragon and his unhatched egg. Dragons were real and about to die out because he lacked the balls to actually use his magic for something real.
He’d always wanted his magic to have a purpose—otherwise what was the point of having it. Maybe this was it. And if it wasn’t, it would be a bigger adventure than he’d ever had.
He ran back to the hotel, begged a key off the startled woman on the desk and pressed the button on the lift continuously to make it arrive faster. When the doors opened, he jumped inside and jabbed the button for the seventh floor. The lift couldn’t be rushed, and it crawled its way up before finally opening. He ran down the empty corridor and hesitated outside Prys’s door, feeling like a complete idiot. It seemed wrong to let himself in, so he knocked.
Prys opened the door, still clutching the egg. His blue eyes were rimmed in red. “You left the ring.”
“I left my mate.” Aaron stepped closer, knowing deep in the pit of his belly where the fire magic dwelled that that was how the magic worked. It wasn’t just any fire witch that could wake a dragon. He tilted his chin. “I know what to do.”
; Prys frowned. “You want to be my mate?”
“I didn’t, until I met you, until I left you. I was a block away before I realized that I will never get this chance again and neither will you and this is important. We can save the dragons, together.” Aaron put his hand on Prys’s shoulder, then let it slide up to his jaw unable to resist touching him. Fire bloomed on Prys’s skin and Aaron yanked his hand away. “That doesn’t normally happen. Did I burn you?”
“No. That would be impossible.” Prys slid his arm around Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer; the egg still between them. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?” More fire bloomed on Aaron’s skin, and then his T-shirt ignited. He hadn’t lost control like this since he was a teen.
Prys patted out the flames as fast as they formed. “I told myself I didn’t want a witch or the bond. That I just wanted to wake my sister.”
“And I just want to use my magic and be a witch.” He gazed up at Prys. “I don’t know how to raise a dragon.”
Prys stepped forward and Aaron’s back hit the wall. “We can figure it out.”
“Yeah, we can.” And they’d figure out this bond and the magic and everything. “So, are you going to kiss me and make this happen?”
“Then we will be bound together. Our magic and our lives. You’ll share my lifespan.”
“Which is?” He was jumping into this too fast. But he’d always jumped from this to that, like a spark seeking tinder. His heartbeat quickened, and he held still waiting for the kiss that would seal his fate.
“Several hundred years.”
“That’s a long time if this doesn’t work out.” But even as Aaron said it, he knew that the bond would weave between them, turning the lust he’d felt on first sight into something that could last.
“Now I’ve found you, we don’t need to rush.”
But Aaron didn’t think he could wait. His fire was tickling over his skin and making the leap to Prys, like he was already a part of him. “I don’t want to wait. This is meant to be.”
Prys nodded, then lowered his head. His lips brushed Aaron’s. His mouth was hot and what started as chaste quickly became something headier. He couldn’t have held back the fire in his blood if he’d tried. It raced over Aaron’s skin and danced over Prys. The flames reflected in the dragon’s eyes.
Aaron gasped as the magic wove around them. He felt Prys’s fear and hurt and tasted his hope. That place he found when he danced, where the rumble of the flames filled his ears, and their light became the focus of his world, was there in Prys. Aaron let it consume him. The magic he held was far deeper and hotter and brighter than he’d ever realized. Or maybe he’d known and been too scared.
He put his hand on the egg. His skin rippled with gold flames like he was made of fire.
This time Aaron felt the life within the shell, and the baby stirred as though waking. But she wasn’t ready to hatch. Not yet. He jerked back and hit his head on the wall. The flames melted away, and what was left of his T-shirt smoldered.
“Well, I’ve never been kissed like that.” Aaron drew in a breath and exhaled slowly.
“Same.” Prys’s gaze skimmed over his body. His eyes bright as though fire danced with in him and his lips curved. “Stay.”
Aaron shut the door. “I hadn’t planned on leaving.”
About TJ
TJ Nichols is an avid runner and martial arts enthusiast who first started writing as child. Many years later while working as a civil designer, TJ decided to pick up a pen and start writing again. Having grown up reading thrillers and fantasy novels, it’s no surprise that mixing danger and magic comes so easily. Writing urban fantasy allows TJ to bring magic to the every day. TJ is the author of the Studies in Demonology series and the Mytho urban fantasy series. Writing as Toby J Nichols, TJ also writes gay action/horror
With one cat acting as a supervisor, TJ has gone from designing roads to building worlds and wouldn’t have it any other way. After traveling all over the world TJ now lives in Perth, Western Australia.
You can find TJ at:
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Flames and Flowers
Ripley Proserpina
Mother, you don’t understand;
I made Hades run to me.
He saw my bones beneath
And offered me half his kingdom.
Do you really think I ate the fruit unwillingly?
- a. davida jane
Korey
Ever since I was a little girl, I knew someone was watching me. I knew it the same way I knew my dog was waiting for my cheese stick to fall out of my mouth, or the way I could feel my teacher’s eyes on me just as I held out my hand to take a note from the girl who sat next to me in class.
It was a sixth sense, but not.
Creeped out? Well, I wasn’t. But I wasn’t a smart girl, and I never had a lot of what people would call survival skills.
Instead of being afraid, I was intrigued.
I loved the way the hair lifted on the back of my neck and a chill raced down my spine. I loved that little shiver I got right after the chill.
We lived way out of town, so far out, I got onto the bus before the sun rose, and I wasn’t home until it was low in the sky, turning the wheat fields bright gold. Our Montana farm was the only one for miles, and while we had farm hands, they were too busy to pay attention to me.
I knew this because I spied. Whenever the back of my neck prickled, I spun around and ran in whatever direction was behind me. Just to catch them.
But I didn’t. All I found was my dad fixing the thresher. My mom on the phone, arguing with a supplier. Jamie and Cruz, our farm hands, hanging over the machine, watching Dad. It couldn’t be them.
“What are you doing, sprout?” Dad would ask.
“Lookin’,” I’d answer, but he’d be too busy to ask, for what? And I was already distracted by a new feeling, and so I’d go running in the opposite direction. It was like a game. The ultimate hide and seek.
So I got trickier. I started to do stupid things, just to see what would happen. I stood in the hay loft and went to the very edge, poked my toes over and rocked. Forward and back. Forward and back.
Ten years old, and I was flirting with death. Stop me.
I wanted whoever was in the shadows to step forward.
But they didn’t. Chills raced down my spine, a sure sign of my watcher, and then, like a breeze, they were gone, leaving me with the sense that they were saying, “You’re smarter than this.” I wasn’t. Every single teacher I’d ever had would have been willing to tell them that.
Not that I wanted to die. I’d broken my little toe running around barefoot, and that had hurt so bad I’d cried every time I put my sneakers on. I knew I didn’t really want to fall, I just wanted my watcher to think I was.
So I went from doing stupid things, to tempting things. I left gifts on the back porch. An apple. A book. A Matchbox car my cousin left behind.
This wasn’t like Santa Claus. I wasn’t leaving something hoping to get something in return. I just wanted to see.
Show me who you are.
But I could never be sure if my gifts got to their intended recipient, if they were hijacked by one of the farm hands, or tossed into the garbage by my mom on her way out to the barn at three in the morning.
Years went by, and I never told a single person about my sense of being watched. By the time I was sixteen, driving our combine through the wheat fields at harvest time, I knew telling anyone was a bad idea. It was just me in this machine, the noise so loud it made my teeth vibrate in my skull as I drove up and down the fields.
It didn’t matter if I felt like the cab was too small, like I was sharing it with my invisible spectator.
I did wonder if I was crazy. That was a logical explanation, if unfortun
ate one, and one that I accepted.
Things got a little easier after that. I stopped leaving tempting presents. Stopped chasing a weird feeling—and by default—stopped freaking out Jamie and Cruz.
The world would only see regular, boring Korey—a solid Montana farm girl who said no to everyone who asked her to the prom, waited tables, and wasn’t smart enough to get into college, so she didn’t even try.
But it turned out the world and my watcher were two separate things. And both of them, no matter what I’d decided, were very real.
Korey
Lunch rush at Bill’s Diner was no joke, and my makeup was starting to run down my face. I could feel it.
I’d spent more time than normal on my appearance. Generally, there wasn’t much cause for me to dress up. Bill’s had an apron we all wore, but that was about as uniform as we got.
Today though, I put my blonde hair up on my head in one of those messy buns. Then I’d played up my green eyes with eyeshadow and liquid liner. It’d taken me an hour to get those little wings on either side of my eyes even, but I thought the effect was worth it. I had a little bit of a nineteen sixties pin-up thing going.
Mastering liquid liner was two parts video tutorials and one part witchcraft. I wasn’t certain of the sacrifice I’d have to make, but I was fully aware I probably owed someone a goat.
The real reason for my get-up though, was that it was my birthday. I was twenty-seven, thank you very much, so a little bit of glittery lip gloss and sparkly eye smudge was called for.
The girls at work had a crown waiting for me, and because it was purple and purple was my favorite color, I put it on my head and didn’t even care that it hid my bun. When people did nice things for you, the only thing out of your mouth should be a thank you.
“Order up, Kore!” Bill hit the bell and I stuck the menus I’d been collecting under my arm to grab two plates of burgers and fries.
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