Obsidian Wings (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Clara Hartley

  Part of her wanted Rayse.

  Many of the residents in the village were men. She eyed them warily. Were they all dragons? She had never seen so many scaled beasts in such proximity.

  They gave her leery looks. Or was she imagining that?

  Were some of them growling at her? She couldn’t ignore their stares of disapproval.

  “You feel tense,” Fraser said. “I can sense it.”

  “You can sense emotions?” she asked, wondering how much power the dragon held. A human ought to be like a speck of dust to them—something they could easily crush with their talons.

  He nodded. “To a certain extent, yes. We’re part animal, part man. Our senses let us detect the nuances you make when you experience a certain emotion. It’s not something clear-cut, however. You appear more fidgety and stiff than people are usually, which was why I asked.”

  “Why are some of the people here looking at me… like they hate me?”

  Fraser glanced around, then scratched the back of his neck. “Rayse isn’t liked by everyone.”

  He did have a gruff demeanor about him. She blinked. “He’s not? But he’s your clan leader.”

  “He is my femrah, but only because the dragons respect his strength. Being respected isn’t the same as being liked. Some of his decisions are unpopular. Many dragons want to nullify the treaty we have with the humans. They see it as weakness. As him bowing down to the whims of a weaker race.”

  “I don’t see what’s wrong. The treaty is sensible and saves lives.”

  He chuckled. “Dragons aren’t interested in compassion and altruism. Many prefer to see destruction. We are characterized by our flames, after all.”

  The statements made Constance question why mankind revered these creatures so much. If not for Rayse, they’d be pillaging and raping.

  Was Rayse above such atrocities? Was Fraser?

  What was this man hiding behind that charming exterior? Wrinkles crinkled at the sides of his eyes when he smiled. Was he being genuine to Marzia?

  The kinder someone appears, the more dangerous he is, a remnant of Constance’s younger self reminded her. The man who killed Marsella Rinehart had showered her with love and affection before that night. Constance shouldn’t trust easily.

  “And do you feel the same as the other dragons?” she asked.

  “About?”

  “Humans and Rayse. That helping them would make dragons weaker.”

  “Fraser would never think such things,” Marzia interrupted, after being silent for most of the conversation. “Right?”

  A gentle smile brushed the side of Fraser’s lips. “No. I trust Lord Rayse. And why should we slaughter humans when our mates are amongst the ‘weaker’ race? We might end up killing our future wives.”

  “And the destruction?” Constance asked.

  He hesitated. “I like to breathe my fire every so often.”

  They had been trekking toward a large castle. Shadowed figures with batlike wings meandered in the skies. She tried to count the silhouettes, then gave up. There were too many dragons, and they were too fast for her to keep track of them. She anticipated dragon fear, but felt nothing. Perhaps she had adjusted.

  “What is this place?” she asked. And why didn’t Rayse stay here? It made sense for the ruler of their kind to live in the castle.

  “Dragon Keep,” Fraser said. “The castle itself. Built thousands of years ago.”

  She had to crane her neck to take in the full enormity of the structure. “So long? How is it still standing?”

  “It is made of dragon stone. It doesn’t wear down easily.”

  But parts of the keep had crumbled. Time ruled over everything, even dragons.

  “Why are there so many dragons?” she asked.

  “This is the place where sorting out the trades between the kingdoms happen. Rayse gave it up for this purpose.”

  A gray dragon swooped in from the sky, landing abruptly. The force of it nearly knocked Marzia and Constance off their feet. Fraser had to steady them so they wouldn’t fall. Constance didn’t like Fraser’s touch on her back but didn’t say anything.

  She turned around to look at Nanili. The mishram stayed perfectly still. Constance had assumed a frail-looking creature like Nanili would topple, but the blue-skinned female held her ground better than Constance thought she would.

  Her gaze set on the gray dragon perched in front of them. Goods were tied onto its legs and back. It didn’t look comfortable, even for a creature with iron skin.

  “That dragon has just returned from Falron,” Fraser explained.

  “It’s carrying ores,” she said.

  Fraser nodded. “Yes, Falron is rich in ores.”

  Evernbrook was in Falron. They always had too much metal and too little food. The region didn’t have enough arable farmland.

  Fraser pointed to the castle. “Dragons with grain from Yvrdeen will come here and rest, too.” Yvrdeen, another region, lay unreachable over the mountain range. “Metals and food. Yvrdeen and Falron can’t thrive without the other’s goods. The two continents never could develop much until my liege stepped in.” Everyone, humans and winged beasts, knew the history. Every Offering, an announcer would explain this before the girls lined up.

  Fraser continued, “The flight is long and tedious, even for a dragon, so we must rest here before pressing on. Sometimes, we receive more than enough goods for trading. Those goods are stored in the castle for a later date.”

  A dragon… working. Constance had heard about it but still couldn’t believe what she saw. The gray dragon yawned, revealing sharp teeth. Women scurried over to relieve it of its load.

  As soon as its harness was unstrapped, it shrugged off the goods and ambled away. It took slow, languid steps till it reached a resting spot, then slumped down.

  Fraser sighed. “And this is why Lord Rayse is disliked by many. Dragons aren’t exactly known for being subservient or hardworking. They prefer to steal gold and laze.”

  “He’s forcing them to?” she asked. “What does he have to gain?”

  Fraser scratched the back of his head. “Nothing, really. He doesn’t have to help the humans, but he likes them for some reason. I’ve known the man for three hundred years—”

  Her brows shot up. “Three hundred?”

  He smiled. “We’re old. Dragons have a long lifespan. My liege isn’t a very agreeable fellow, but he has a good heart. He’s the first dragon I’ve met to care about humans.”

  “I can’t see him that way.”

  “As agreeable? None of us can.” Fraser laughed to himself and pointed at his temple. “He’s always got a frown on his face.”

  “No. I can’t see him as good.” He had taken her forcibly. Good men did not do that.

  Marzia and Fraser shot curious glances Constance’s way, but she ignored them, not wanting to explain herself.

  After a short silence, Marzia bobbed up and down like an excited child. “We’re already here. What are we waiting for? Honestly, where’s that library?” She was practically brimming with eagerness.

  Constance tried cheering herself up with the thought of books. She hardly found them in the village. What kind of literature did the dragons have?

  Chapter 6

  Constance’s fingers trailed along the dusty spines of the books. Marzia and Fraser had quickly split with her. The romance section of the library had drawn her friend away. Fraser, understandably, followed Marzia.

  Reading was a solitary activity anyway. Constance was thankful they had left her alone. Then she wouldn’t have to bother about Fraser anymore.

  “Herbs, herbs, herbs,” she muttered.

  How often were these books wiped? Her fingertips had turned gray with dust.

  She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “And so horribly organized…”

  She paused when she read Rayse’s name. She slipped the book out of the shelf—Rayse, The Black Menace, Accounts of Dragon Keep and Its Feared Ruler.

  If she w
as going to be forced to bed him, why not learn more about him?

  But that’s not really why, is it? Her conscience crept up to her. An unsettling tingling lingered on her skin. And he didn’t have to do much forcing last night.

  “Nanili, is this book about Rayse accurate?” she asked.

  Behind her, the servant stood as still as a statue as Constance skimmed through the pages. Many of its tales seemed contradictory.

  “I have not read its contents,” Nanili replied.

  “It says here that he’s more than five hundred years old. Is he really? He doesn’t look a day over thirty.”

  “A dragon’s lifespan is that of a thousand years. Rayse is considered young.”

  “And did he save villages from bandits while laying waste to settlements and armies?”

  Nanili did not shake her head nor nod. Constance realized she never did. The mishram remained unmoving as she responded, “Dragons act on their own whims. I cannot keep track of all that happens in five centuries. Perhaps he did; perhaps he did not.”

  That hardly told Constance much at all.

  “Says here that he rules through fear, and his punishments are always harsh. Are they?”

  “I don’t know what can be considered ‘harsh.’”

  “You’re not being very helpful.”

  The mishram stared ahead.

  Constance closed the book and tucked it under her arm just in case she wanted to read more.

  She quickly found the herbs and concoction section. There were many things related to medicine, from hypotheses to surgery. Brewing herbs and remedies was her favorite subject. It was the first thing Eduard had introduced her to, and what she specialized in.

  She picked up a random book on the topic and did a quick scan of the pages.

  “Dragons don’t get sick much, do they?” she said, mostly to herself. Most of the cures were for battle wounds.

  “No,” Nanili said.

  “Why not?”

  “They are immune to most diseases, although the healers do know about human diseases because the dragon wives do fall ill occasionally.”

  Constance nodded, starting to get used to Nanili’s monotonous way of speaking. The most curious thing about these remedies was the use of soul magic. They taught of what the common people called “witchcraft.” The book went more in-depth into soul magic than she’d ever believed was possible. Marsella Rinehart had passed down to Constance what little she knew about the craft, but what her mother knew was only a fraction of what could be done with it.

  Her mood lifted after reading the contents of the book. She almost smiled. This felt like the biggest perk she’d receive from becoming a dragon wife.

  Her eyes remained fixated on its pages as she made her way to an empty desk.

  There were many vacant seats. The dragons weren’t avid readers.

  It soon turned into nightfall and she had barely reached a quarter of the book. She had asked Nanili to take a seat many times. She was unsettled by how the rigid, pale woman stood behind her the entire time. Each time she did so, Nanili curtly responded, “There is no need.” Did the mishram’s legs never tire?

  Constance took notes as she went through her studies, which was one of the reasons why she read so slowly.

  The other reason she read slowly was the complexity of soul magic. Marsella Rinehart had barely taught Constance the basics of the craft, judging from these books. There were so many jargons and terms she had never come across, and it took a lot to wrap her mind around them.

  “You’re not home. Why did you not bring her home, Nanili? It’s midnight.”

  She stilled and turned around. There, waiting in the darkness, was the Black Menace.

  Rayse had been looking everywhere for her. When he found Fraser alone with his mate, and not with Constance, he’d turned livid. The blue dragon was supposed to care for Rayse’s new dragon wife for the day. From what the Black Menace had heard, all Constance had really explored was Dragon Keep. That barely covered the compound.

  The damn blockhead had gotten distracted by the charms of Marzia.

  Fraser was promptly given two extra shifts to patrol as punishment, which had made him awfully peevish. Rayse could sense Fraser’s bad mood from his unconscious roll of the eyes.

  Constance had her whole body leaning over the desk, engrossed in a book.

  Rayse clenched his fist and waited for the heat to consume him. His dragon awakened to her presence. The need to take her rushed over him like a storm.

  Quiet down, you fucking animal. It wouldn’t listen.

  It wasn’t as bad as last night, however. It pained him, and a tent formed in his pants, but he had gotten some semblance of control over his lust.

  “You’re not home,” he said. “Why did you not bring her home, Nanili? It’s midnight.”

  Constance turned around and her honey-colored eyes met his.

  She said, her deliciously lips plump, “Um, hello.”

  In her expression, he saw fear again. “You shouldn’t be out so late. Dragon Keep isn’t the safest place.” He wanted to wipe the fright from her face, but he wasn’t sure how.

  She closed her book. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Your ignorance is an understandable fault.”

  She stiffened.

  “I have enemies here. Be back before dark. Should anything happen to you, I would be displeased.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” She was doing it again, apologizing with that quiver in her voice. Couldn’t she look at him? This was not how he imagined having a dragon wife to be.

  He sighed and grabbed the books from her desk. He snatched her hand from the table, tired of her avoiding his gaze, and spun her around. The sensation of her touch sent his body spiraling with need, but he pushed his wanting away.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  “To where?”

  “Home. You’ve done enough exploring today.”

  He pulled her from her seat and resisted the urge to sling her over his shoulder. They would reach home faster that way, but he wasn’t sure if she would take it well.

  His heart slammed against his ribcage. Being next to her made him impatient.

  “You-you’re walking too fast.”

  He stopped, which made her crash into his frame. Her scent collided into him. He inhaled sharply. She smelled sweet, like a strawberry field. His dragon burned. He hadn’t finished in her yet. His hadn’t marked her with his scent.

  Did Fraser notice that his scent was missing from her? Did other dragon males see her as fair play today? Jealousy hit him like a torrent of rain.

  “Hurry, then,” he said, resisting the urge to make a comment about how she was driving his dragon crazy.

  He turned around and walked onward. He moved more slowly so she could catch up.

  Constance sat nervously on the bed. She had her hands folded over her knees. She kept her gaze fixated on the floor, away from Rayse.

  She knew he was looking at her with a burning intensity. It made it difficult for her to breathe. Her soul was acting up again. A pulsing began between her thighs.

  “Well?” she asked, unable to take the silence for much longer. She raised her head to meet his eyes. He leaned against the wall of his chambers, his arms crossed over his taut chest. He was frowning, as he usually did.

  “Hm?”

  “I… I don’t like sitting here just to be gawked at. Aren’t we going to do something?” She had been mentally preparing herself for him to pounce on her at any time. She wanted to be ready for his touch, but she never would be.

  He narrowed his eyes. “We could go to bed.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” Her body was shaking. Would it hurt again, like last night?

  “We’re not going to have sex, if that’s what you mean.”

  Her eyes widened as a wave of relief swept over her. “We’re not?” She sensed her soul retreating with disappointment. Her loins were already wet with anticipation, b
ut her heart wasn’t nearly as prepared.

  He shook his head. “Not with you shivering like a leaf. I’ll wait until I have your permission.”

  “But… last night.”

  “I told you. It was the mating. I didn’t mean to.” He uncrossed his arms and pressed his hands on the wall. He hesitated, then said, “I apologize.”

  She tried to view this from his perspective. She could hardly control herself either. But wasn’t he supposed to be a monster? Most men were. “And it’s better now?” Her nails were digging into her palms. She still didn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to do anything. Maybe he wanted her to be less willing. Some men in the brothel preferred it that way.

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But…”

  He raised a brow. “But?”

  He wasn’t supposed to be this nice. He was the Black Menace—terrifying, brutal, alarming in every way.

  She turned her head. “Nothing.”

  An awkward pause settled between them.

  Rayse flung his head backward and let out an annoyed grunt. “Goddammit, this wasn’t how I thought it’d be.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re not supposed to look at me like that.”

  She cocked her head in puzzlement.

  “Like you’re afraid.”

  “I… I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Anyone with half a brain can tell you’re terrified.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Am I not supposed to be? You’re known as the most powerful dragon in all of Gaia.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s what the others are supposed to think. Not you. I’m not supposed to be that man for you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I can sense that you’re my mate. Do you know what that means?”

  “No.”

  His midnight eyes bored into her. “It means that you’re supposed to love me.”

  Her mouth went dry. Not once did she ever think of loving this man. Lust, yes. But that was her soul taking over. It wasn’t her true emotion. “That’s—”