Obsidian Wings

by Clara Hartley

  She clutched her dress. “You’re expecting too much of me.” She met his gaze and could see the longing in his eyes. Not for her… but for companionship.

  Rayse—the most nightmarish dragon in the world—was lonely.

  Shock engulfed her. She found it difficult to fathom that Rayse could bear such a human emotion. “I don’t know if I can promise that. You’re asking for too much.”

  He lowered his head. “I know I am. What was I thinking?”

  She didn’t know how to respond.

  “You should get some rest. I suppose we should try and assimilate you into the clan tomorrow.”

  She inched aside to make space for him to lie down.

  He stepped from the wall and made his way toward the door. “Take the bed. I’ll sleep outside. I can’t be anywhere around you right now.”

  She kept her eyes locked on him as he made his way out, and couldn’t ignore how attractive he was. He always looked angry, yes, but every feature of his appealed to her. She was never one to think about what she wanted in a man, but now that she considered it, Rayse was the personification of the all physical traits she found attractive.

  “Good night,” she said.

  He didn’t answer. The door slammed shut.

  Chapter 7

  You’re asking for too much,” she had said.

  Rayse groaned his frustration as he walked down the stone steps to the living room. His feet scraped against the cobblestone.

  He had explained his inability to control himself to her. She should have understood how he felt. The mating affected both man and woman.

  Then why did she still dislike him?

  He didn’t love her yet. No, that was too soon. But he could feel the attraction. He was willing to work on the love part, unlike Constance. His jaw clenched. She was unwilling to give him a chance—he hated that. He held a grudge against her for it.

  Most dragon husbands and wives accepted that they were to be mated the first day. They usually hit it off well right at the start.

  Why was it so different in his case?

  Am I really asking for too much?

  Maybe he was cursed to be a lonesome individual for the rest of his life.

  He spotted Nanili in the living room.

  “Nanili, fetch me ale. Tons of it.”

  She did as requested.

  The ale barely gave him a buzz. Dragons burned off the alcohol too quickly for any of it to work.

  He drank until he was full and then slumped onto the couch. He forced his eyes shut. His whole body was burning up. She was right upstairs.

  He could enter, fuck her, and be sated of this lust.

  But then she’d never forgive him.

  “Goddammit,” he said. “Damn Dragon Mother just won’t give me a break.”

  He tossed and turned for another hour before giving up and leaving the house. He stripped and called to his dragon form.

  Being so close to her didn’t allow him to sleep.

  When she woke up, Constance’s body burned.

  The discomfort continued to chisel at her. She sucked in sharply, then rushed to the washroom. She scooped up a handful of water and threw it over her face.

  The throbbing subsided.

  Is this my soul telling me to stop waiting?

  She sensed its craving for Rayse.

  She ambled down the steps. She spotted the large dragon man sleeping on the couch. He truly hadn’t laid a hand on her last night. She was up for an extra hour after he’d left, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for him to go back on his word.

  But he never did.

  She should have stayed away, but curiosity wrapped around her like a fog and she crept toward him. His hair covered part of his face, sprawling in a messy, vinelike pattern. It reflected the light shining through the window.

  She could hear her own breath. She noticed his scent, and he reminded her of fire and smoke.

  Without thinking, she stretched a hand to his face.

  Heat emanated from him like a furnace. Was it normal for a dragon to burn up this much?

  His arm shot up and caught her. Her heart leapt.

  He pushed her down. She blinked and was on the ground with a mild ache assaulting her backside.

  Her hands went clammy. “I didn’t mean to do anything, I swear! Oh, dragons.”

  His eyes had turned into slits. His face hovered over hers, and his smoky breath brushed her cheeks. His touch was almost hot enough to scald her. Was Rayse still in there? He reminded her little of the man she met last night.

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw. Shutting his eyes, he pulled back. He tried to hide it, but she could see his pain.

  “Rayse?” she said. Was he revealing his true self? Was this the monster she’d been waiting for?

  He threw himself backward and landed on his palms. His eyes flashed—dragon’s then human’s, back and forth like a firefly. “Don’t come so near without warning. That… was close.”

  His wings had unfurled behind him. She hadn’t managed a good look at them before, but now she could tell they were gorgeous. They shone with a glistening black, almost sparkling in the sun.

  His breath was heavy. She waited as he regained control. She heard his labored panting. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Just… don’t do that next time. Make a sound or something.”

  “I will.” She fidgeted. “You kept your promise.”

  His wings had receded into his back. “What promise?”

  “You didn’t come in last night. We didn’t… You didn’t force me against my will.”

  He sighed. “We’re supposed to live the next five hundred years or so together. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like an enormous amount of time to be placed in close proximity. I don’t want you to hate me.” He still had that cut of a frown between his temples.

  “I don’t hate you.” Afraid of him, yes. But she didn’t detest him.

  “Then why look at me like you want to run away?”

  Because she was projecting her demons on him. Because she was damaged and should have never signed up flawed goods for the Offering. “I have a thing against… your kind.”

  “Dragons?”

  “No. Men.”

  Questions crackled in his obsidian gaze. “What happened?”

  She licked her lips and dragged her legs to her chest. “It’s not something I talk about often.”

  “A man did something to you.”

  “I… don’t want to discuss this.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone. In Everndale. Long ago. It’s the past now.”

  “His name?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “It’s every bit my concern. He crossed you. That means I have something against him.”

  She scowled. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s my life. My past. Not yours.”

  “You’re part of my life now.”

  “We just met!” She got up. Her skin prickled with anger. Who did this man think he was? He couldn’t just waltz over and expect her to pour out her darkest secrets to him.

  She stilled, realizing she’d just shouted at the most feared man in Gaia. She stepped backward and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

  His frown deepened. He glanced away and shook his head. “No. I’m not used to this.” He shrugged and stood. “If I want answers. I usually just take them, force them out. But I don’t think I’m supposed to do that. Not in your case.”

  “What do you want from me?” She studied his face. What was this man thinking? Being with her seemed to hurt him. Couldn’t he just send her back?

  “Everything. Nothing. I’m not sure.”

  “Why are you keeping me here?”

  “You’re my mate.” He snorted. “Supposedly, anyway. I don’t know if mates who don’t love each other exist. Maybe we’re a special case. It’s only right that you stay here.”

  “And if I go home?
Back to Evernbrook?”

  “Our souls would force us together. Mine especially. Dragons are creatures controlled by our souls—our instincts.”

  So leaving was never an option.

  He grabbed her hand. His hand wasn’t as hot as before. It had cooled to a normal, humanlike temperature.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he tugged her along.

  “We need to get ourselves checked.”

  “What?”

  “By our healer. Apparently, what happened with our mating wasn’t normal. Maybe something strange occurred between us.” He looked over his shoulder and at her. “Perhaps we’re not really mates.”

  Chapter 8

  Constance eyed the steep cliffs the moment they left Rayse’s stone house.

  “How are we going to cross?” She wouldn’t have to cling to him as he carried her in his arms, would she? She had seen some dragon wives do that with their mates the day before.

  He tugged her away. His hand was the size of an ocean wrapped around hers. His touch prickled against her skin. She tried not to let it bother her too much. “This way to our healer. You need not fret. We are on the main plateau. The clinic is at Dragon Keep. You won’t need to cross any rickety bridges.”

  She allowed him to pull her along, but struggled to keep up with his speed. His back muscles were taut and reminded her of a sinewy animal. They almost seemed… dependable.

  But that wasn’t right. The only other man she’d seen that way was Eduard.

  She recalled the way Rayse had touched her. Her body wanted him to do it again. The memory made her cheeks heat up.

  His palm warmed, and that somehow made a hot sensation rise in her. “There’s something you should know about Greta, our healer,” he said.

  Anticipation swelled in Constance like a balloon. The physician within her beamed at the thought of peering into the secrets of dragon medicine. Her perusal in the library the day before had given her an idea, but books could only go so far.

  She tried not to stumble as she hopped up the steep slopes of the Everpeak mountains. “Greta must be very wise.”

  Rayse casually strode onward. “That’s not exactly how I’d put it. I suppose nine hundred and thirty years of knowledge would make someone quite knowledgeable. But she’s a bit… off. She’s the only dragon female here, and she lost her mate a couple hundred years back.”

  “And she’s still holding on?” Constance had heard that dragons often took their own lives after losing their significant other.

  “Like I said, she’s not herself. She’s still a pretty damn good healer. I can’t say the same personality-wise. She’s only still here because her mate’s death was never confirmed. There’s still hope within her.”

  Constance pondered over Greta’s tragic story. What would a woman who held such grief be like?

  The clinic was outside, but in a sheltered region of the castle. They had to walk past the dragon trade stop and around the side of Dragon Keep to reach it.

  Rayse lifted the flap separating the clinic from the outside. Constance entered after him. It was a cozy-looking area sporting rows of beds. A fireplace crackled at the end of those beds.

  It reminded her of their sickbay back in her village. Being here almost felt like home.

  A woman with unkempt white hair scurried about the patients. She was muttering indiscernible nonsense to herself as she tended to the sick.

  The healer had a slim figure, but the way she dressed did little to reveal it. She draped far too many scarves over her bodice. Slung under the scarves rested many leather holders that shone with vials of colorful concoctions.

  “Greta?” Rayse called in his low, coarse voice.

  She dropped the bowl of medicine she was holding. The clang of the bowl bounced from the walls. “Oh, dragon’s buttocks. Clumsy, clumsy, hands.” Greta whipped around like a meerkat and sniffed. “Who are you?” She craned her neck toward them. “Who who?” She then laughed maniacally to herself. “I sound like an owl when I do that. Hoo hoo!”

  Constance furrowed her brow. This was not what she was expecting from dragon healers. She scanned the rest of the room. Most of the beds were empty, save for a few injured men.

  She withheld a yelp when she spotted a few mishram standing at the back of the clinic. They blended so well into their surroundings that she almost didn’t notice them.

  Rayse exhaled. “Greta, I don’t have time for your jokes today.”

  “You’re the joke around here.” The old dragon lady cackled, then moved to the other side of the clinic and started throwing things into a pot. “Half the clan wants to rip your face off. The other half are undecided.”

  Rayse ignored the comment. “Is there any way to check if a mate bond is true?”

  Greta paused, then stared out at nothing. “Mate. I had one. I think he’s coming back soon. I heard his voice last night.” For a second, Constance could sense the sadness reaching out from the old woman.

  Rayse frowned. “Greta?”

  The dragon lady shook off her daze and slipped into clear, uncharacteristic lucidity. “Sit down.” She gestured to an empty bed beside her.

  They did as told. It struck Constance as strange to see Rayse being this obedient.

  “Palm out,” Greta said.

  Constance’s gaze crawled all over the room. The familiar scent of herbs and brews wafted to her nostrils. It almost made her smile. She spotted heaps of herbs she’d never seen before.

  She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Greta’s needle until the old lady pricked her finger.

  She winced. “Ow! What was that for?”

  Greta clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Shush, pumpkin. Angry is not a good color on you.”

  She did the same to Rayse. The Black Menace wasn’t fazed.

  “Soulmates, soulmates… what’s that spell.” Greta’s bum shimmied as she waddled about the space. She took a lizard out of a cage.

  She placed the lizard on the table, next to where Rayse’s and Constance’s blood sat in a porcelain dish.

  “Es rea misreagou!” Greta raised her hands as if directing an orchestra. “Kisla misreagou.”

  All Marsella had ever taught Constance was the first phrase. Before reaching Dragon Keep, she hadn’t known there were more spells to command with soul magic.

  “Luvre Litalgo,” Greta said. Red light burst from the blood and shone at them.

  Constance was mesmerized by the magic the female dragon conducted. She wanted to learn more. She hungered for the knowledge.

  The light fizzled, then snuffed out.

  Greta placed her hands on her hips. “Soulmates. Confirmed. As sure as a rabbit in a meadow of happy carrots.”

  Rayse leaned forward. “Are there any discrepancies? Constance ran away when we first met. I was told that’s not normal. Should we test again?”

  “Nothing of that sort. In fact, this is a good bond, a strong one. One of the best I’ve ever come across.” Greta licked her lips then scowled. “You really shouldn’t dally. Go pork and romp about like you dragon couples always end up doing. Waiting for too long spells trouble, and this bond needs to be fulfilled quickly. Fate calls for it.”

  “We should do another test.”

  “We should do another test,” Greta repeated, copying Rayse’s voice. “What’s wrong with these results? Stop acting like you’re so conflicted. The test is true. Go back and complete the bond. If you drag it out for too long, demons will come out.”

  Rayse’s nostrils flared. “Not yet.”

  Yes. Not yet. Constance didn’t want to leave this magical place so soon.

  She couldn’t contain her curiosity much longer. Her questions burst out from her lungs like an uncaged, rabid dog. “What was that second spell you used? Can I try? Will you teach me what you know? I’m willing to learn.” She didn’t care that Greta had a couple dozen screws loose. “I’ll do anything to learn more. Within reason, of course. But I’m eager.”

  Rayse sat on the
bed, waiting. He had more important things to do, but he didn’t want to leave his mate’s side. And his mate didn’t seem very interested in departing from the clinic.

  He hadn’t given her a proper bodyguard yet. He was putting it off because he didn’t want other males around her.

  “Kisla misreagou,” she chanted. That was the fourth lizard she’d harvested.

  “You’re good at this,” Greta said in a chipper tone. “You’re blessed with the magic.”

  “Am I?” Constance was beaming. This was the first time he’d seen her smile. It made his heart feather. He thought she looked beautiful before, but her radiance multiplied whenever she grinned.

  Constance twirled the dull soul of the lizard between her fingers. “I didn’t know dull souls existed. All this time, I’ve been harvesting the bright souls of these critters, not knowing I left the other half behind. I don’t even have to crush them.”

  Greta scrunched up her nose. “You were being very wasteful.”

  “Not anymore. Explain to me again. Why are there two separate souls?”

  “No, no. There’s only one. But es rea misreagou only harvests the active part of the soul, the part that gives living things their different characteristics—the bright souls. Kisla misreagou is for the inactive part, the part that all living creatures share.”

  Constance nodded. “It’s all very confusing. But so exciting.”

  “Come back every day, pumpkin. I have so much to teach you. But you’ll have to help me with my patients, too. That’s what apprentices do, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Rayse stiffened. Every day? “No.”

  Constance spun toward him and frowned. “No?”

  “I haven’t given you permission.” She’d have to care for other men if she were a healer here. He didn’t want her touching males who weren’t him.

  Her expression went dark. “But this is what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Find something else.”

  His chest constricted when he realized she’d lost the light in her eyes.

  “Please,” she said. Her lower lip was quivering. He could see the rage bubbling beneath her skin, but it was suppressed by her fear for him.