Dragon's Revenge

by Debi Ennis Binder

  Mayra’s hands shot up and fisted in his thick black hair. He stiffened, his hands flew up and caught hers, and he pulled her away as brief rage darkened his face. His fury caught her off guard and she relaxed her body, knowing instinctively not to fight back, giving him time to realize she had been playing with him.

  He did so almost immediately, drawing her into his arms and down until she was again beneath him.

  “Be careful,” he whispered and drew the point of his tongue around the outside of her ear. She stiffened and gasped, and he chuckled. “I still am not yet accustomed to an aggressive bedmate.”

  “Me?” she whispered, raising her eyebrows.

  He rested his weight on his arms as he teased her nipples to tight points, and once again, the magic that lit up her body began. She pressed her body against his, conveying to him her true desire—all she wanted now was him, within her, this time without the gentle caresses and touches that usually sent her spiraling upward until she absolutely hungered for his lovemaking.

  Wolfe’s grin told her he had received the message and would happily comply.

  Mayra’s lips parted in silent joy. Her eyes again caught his and she could not look away from the intensity of his radiant gaze, made more brilliant by the spark of the surrounding jewels. Swiftly, their rhythm rose until it matched that of the colors that danced across the lustrous white ceiling and down the walls, catching the myriad colors of the jewels and throwing them over their bodies.

  Mayra wrapped her legs around his, pulling him still closer to her; a deep chuckle told her that this time, he welcomed her bold assault. Still silent, they resumed that delightful and pleasurable cadence, until the brilliant colors that were lighting up the room intensified, finally bursting outward to reflect the cries of sensual gratification wrenched from both humans.

  “Gods,” Wolfe whispered, drawing her up with him as he sat up with her. Her legs spread wider and tightened around his waist. As she moved, her eyes widened, for she could feel him, still within her, and apparently once hadn’t been enough.

  Neither had ever found satisfaction so quickly, so deeply and Mayra’s first thought was that this was because so many days had passed since the last time they were together. Every day she was warm and safe in his arms, yet they weren’t able to make love. What had Wolfe called it? Frustration!

  She smiled up at him. No, this was love. He knew without words, precisely what she wanted and needed. Every touch upon her skin was captivating, every caress a blissful, silent communication of his desire for her and of his wanting to please her. When they lay together, skin touching, all that existed were his lips upon hers, his hands finding secrets that made her gasp and writhe, and his strong, perfect body giving her the deepest, most profound pleasure she could want or need.

  “My mate,” she said softly; her hands went down his shoulders and chest, feeling the iron-hard muscles.

  Wolfe threaded her fingers through his. “I don’t suppose we should wait this long next time, but oft—”

  He stopped moving and froze. Mayra felt that something she couldn’t identify had flooded Wolfe. Was something wrong?

  * * *

  In the luxurious room, amid the silken jewel-colored pillows and the jewels themselves, Mayra’s pale, pearl-like skin seemed to absorb and then reflect endless lustrous colors. She sat up and her loose hair slid down over her naked body. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. There was something in her face he’d never seen and he planned to quiz her about that new glow in her eyes. Later.

  But something grasped at Wolfe’s consciousness, picking at him, just as Mayra pulled him into her arms. He buried his face in her sweetly scented hair; he breathed in the aroma of leaves and flowers and fresh desire shot through him as his lips went down her jaw to her breasts.

  How could each time they made love surpass the previous time? Was she enchanting him? He couldn’t get enough of watching her every time a climax tore through her slender body, and her muscles gripped him, wrenching his own pleasure from him. He sat up, pulling her up with him and felt her legs widen further and encircle his waist, giving him the ultimate access to her body. He opened his mind to join with her, to tease her and perhaps ease her mind over his reaction when she had grasped his hair.

  Instead, something wrong inundated him—a physical thing close by. It surrounded him so abruptly that he froze. Wolfe was certain that whatever it was, it was there in the chamber with them.

  He could not prepare Mayra—she gasped as he withdrew from her as gently as he could, while still aroused. He found his breeches and tossed Mayra her tunic. Like the warrior she was, she pulled it over her head without questions, and pulled out the daggers from her boots, the only weapons she had at hand. She tossed him one.

  He deftly caught it and sent her a quick thought—who the hell needs to carry weapons in an Aerie?—before he rose, his eyes narrowing as he sought that fleeting sensation. Something within the chamber wasn’t right. He crossed to the far corner to the tall wooden room-divider he had earlier noticed. Mayra followed. He stopped to glance down at her. She was following his lead, but she was confused. Couldn’t she feel it?

  She sensed his question; she shook her head no. That was almost as troubling as the presence.

  He could feel the essence of Gaulte and a hazier, distant one that was likely Hesta. But there was something else. A sense of power and evil—a being had been here that did not belong. A being that had the power to move around; yet Wolfe’s powerful senses told him that, but for the two witches, the room was empty.

  “Something was here,” he said. “I feel it strongest, back in this corner.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, and she moved closer to the corner. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. “I do—this side of the room feels darker than the other. But I don’t recognize it.”

  “Darker—” Wolfe trailed off, tasting the word. “That’s precisely how I thought of it—a feeling, a shadowy presence that doesn’t belong here. A strange dragon was here.” He caught her small chin in his fingers and raised her face, so his icy-blue eyes could search it. “And there is more to that overall feeling, my sweet. Once we settled in the Aerie, I could feel your magic changing—witness your use of magic for shutters that once existed, many years earlier.” Her eyes widened, and he continued. “Mayra, in this room, it feels as though your magic is somehow aligning with the residual dragon magic in the room.”

  “I don’t understand that at all. I don’t feel any different and I can’t understand how you’re feeling something happening to me!”

  “As long as what I’m feeling around you is benevolent, I will be more concerned about the other senses,” he said, looking around them again. “But let that change, my sweet, such as now—”

  He trailed off and transferred his intimidating gaze back to Mayra again, this time finding a smile on those sweet lips. She shrugged her shoulders and Wolfe raised her hand to his lips.

  Their time alone had ended for now. It was time to dress and to invite Gaulte back into his chambers. He needed to feel whatever it was in his rooms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ceshon Aerie

  Day six of the First Moon of Wynter

  Gaulte peered around the doorway into the room. It was brightly lit, and the two witchlings sat amid small cushions, near the fireplace. Mayra’s gesture invited the black dragon in. In a rare display of magic in the Aerie, a platter of tea and honey cakes floated alongside Gaulte and preceded the dragon into the room. He joined them, also settling down near the fire.

  Wolfe drew the platter down beside him.

  Gaulte began to speak but abruptly stopped. Why were both of them watching him so intently? Had they quarreled? No, he felt tension—but there was something else. Mayra’s smile had faded.

  Gaulte sat motionlessly for a moment. He took a deep, stealthy breath and felt it again—there was something in the room! His sudden awareness sent ominous fire flashing in his sunburst eyes—and sent Wolfe moving back
into the cushions, closer to Mayra.

  With both a physical and mental lunge, the dragon delved into them, seeking their Centers, and both witchlings stiffened at his brief invasion. Before either could react, he withdrew and the black dragon whipped his head around, back toward the corner.

  Gaulte could see the alarm building in the two witchlings and for one moment, he restrained his rage. But Gaulte was rapidly losing control of his emotions. Could they not see the faint, evil dragon residue that sat there in the shadows? Gaulte could feel his expression transforming with frightening intent—his brow ridge lowered, his teeth bared, and a growl emerged, low and deep—and more fear-provoking for the mindless rage he knew his face conveyed to them.

  Who was here? What dragon has dared enter my chamber?

  Stop it! Mayra’s firm command seemed to startle her as much as the two males. Gaulte blinked. Her clear, sharp mind-speak had pulled him out of his rage as quickly as his mother’s had once done. She jumped to her feet, ran to the black dragon, and laid her head against his shoulder.

  “Gaulte, listen to us,” she said softly. She ran her hands across his jaw, her eyes pleading. “Come over here and let us talk to you.”

  The dragon obeyed silently. At least until he settled himself near the two humans, and then he stretched his neck and shoulders. “Why do you continue to do that?” he grumbled. “Hesta shall not like this, my dear witchling. Not at all. What is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you, Gaulte,” Wolfe replied for her. “Mayra’s magic is—changing, I see things around her”—Gaulte caught the startled look Mayra gave Wolfe and suspected the male witchling hadn’t yet told her that—”like a slight, dark mist. That best describes it, I suppose. And I can feel that something of her magic is different. Seek the changes within her.”

  With your permission, this time, my dear Mayra?

  Gaulte lowered his head, his sunburst eyes catching the silvery-gray eyes of Mayra, and he delved into her again, seeking her Center. The dragon felt Mayra tense, but Wolfe’s arm went around her shoulders, and she relaxed. He rumbled a laugh as he felt that his charming little witchling no longer craved physical connection with her mate, only wanted more of what she had recently enjoyed.

  The next thing he felt did not amuse him. He knew Mayra’s Center almost as well he knew the complicated one of Hesta. With this deep seeking, he could see that there were changes. The colors that showed her emotions and her interactions with those around her were usually calm, or fluttering as within a gentle wind. The lines that represented her magic and her life, were usually straight and smooth; he saw rippling, kinks and bends, and colors he had never before seen in the witchling. Those were signs of change that one usually found in younglings discovering their magic abilities.

  He went outward to find that which signified her relationship with Wolfe. It was there that he had seen the calmness of a gentle river, overcast with a heavier glaze that signified the presence of Wolfe.

  There was more. Gaulte brought himself back—and there! Gaulte found what Wolfe had felt. The black dragon raised his head and looked around, again homing in on the far corner of the room. Something had been there; something Mayra had felt deep within her, so deep she did not realize it had touched her. And her being in here had revealed the unknown thing to Gaulte.

  “You and I feel another presence in here,” Wolfe interjected. “But Mayra doesn’t. Another dragon. It was an older feeling, but I have never felt this dragon before. And it moved within the room!”

  Gaulte closed his eyes and turned back to the corner of the room, allowing himself to again feel the remnants of whatever had been there. It wasn’t hard to find, for its power was deep and far-reaching.

  I wait for you, useless dragon.

  Gaulte’s eyes flew open. Who had said that? The words might have lingered on a thought left behind. What was for him? He wasn’t aware that he was grounding his back teeth together, that a growl was starting again, deep in his chest. He felt the pain of Hesta, seeing Tamsin dragged away from her mother, seeing all the nestlings wrenched away with by vicious humans.

  Gaulte flexed his talons. He had to know—who had violated his home? Who would die?

  * * *

  Gaulte opened his eyes and looked down at Mayra. She felt an icy shiver run the length of her body; for one long moment, she did not know the beast who looked down at her with those huge, hypnotic eyes. And she did not know if he knew her.

  Before either witch could speak, a small blue swirl of magic deposited Poppie on the floor between them. She jumped onto Gaulte’s shoulder and smacked him with her small paw.

  Mayra once again felt her head fill with odd shapes and sounds, but this time she could see that Wolfe must see and feel the same thing—communication between the two beasts in the manner of dragons, which the humans could not understand. Abruptly, the pictures darkened.

  No, think now, great dragon. No anger.

  The squeaky and gravelly little voice left no doubt where it had originated. Wolfe stared at his familiar blankly; the cat ignored him.

  Has found the steps of the great evil one. Has lost the path of the small evil one. Poppie gave a piteous mew and slanted a glance at the two humans before she looked back up at Gaulte. Poppie has failed.

  * * *

  Wolfe stared down at Poppie in utter shock. She spoke! She communicated with the dragon, as dragons did, and yet, she had never given so much as an inkling of that ability to anyone. Least of all her witch companion!

  A memory shot through him. His accepting Poppie had come with a warning not to treat his new familiar as a servant, but as a companion and helpmate. Did Poppie perceive his requests of her more as commands? The recollection of accepting Poppie was as clear to Wolfe as though it had happened yesterday.

  LeLe had appeared on his doorstep one day, and stayed to become the mother of one tiny black kitten. Wolfe had found the wee creature, full of mischief and claws, both charming and strangely calming those times before he slipped away into the night to perform a task for his king. Or simply to earn some extra money. One morning, Wolfe had returned to his home to find another sort of creature awaiting him on his doorstep—an ancient Elder so lined and decrepit that Wolfe had barely identified him as human.

  “LeLe was my familiar for many years”—the old man’s voice had been slow and grating—“until she wished to be free. She returned to me today, to show me who she has chosen as her companion.” The old man had as bad a laugh as he had voice. “Not as familiar, you understand. That is a skill she will pass on to her only young, Poppie, who has chosen you. LeLe asks that I warn you, young warrior. These familiars of today do not have masters, only companions. They are free beings and should they choose to leave your side, the culpability is yours. Remember that.”

  LeLe had stayed with Wolfe to raise little Poppie. A man who had never been anything but an assassin and warrior seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time with his new companion as he grew to love the small cat. He now reached out and stroked Poppie’s soft back. Poppie, I am sorry for neglecting our bond.

  She turned her small face into his hand and licked a finger. Danger now, here.

  The ridiculously pleased look Wolfe knew he had on his face vanished. How grave could the danger be for a silent familiar to finally speak? He gazed across the room at Gaulte. Was the dragon taking the advice of the small cat seriously? Wolfe cast out his thoughts. Yes, Wolfe could sense that Gaulte was feeling and searching, much as the dragon had done earlier as he rather rudely swept mental feelers through the two witches. What was he seeking now?

  They all looked up as the door opened and the Elder Dragon entered.

  If Gaulte had been slow at feeling something amiss in the chamber, his mother was the opposite. Her head swiveled at once to the far corner, and a low, vicious growl escaped her.

  Mayra and Wolfe, digging deeper into the cushions and moving back from Theura, exchanged a nervous look and Wolfe grinned. So much for the brave
warriors and the altruistic dragon!

  “I have chills,” he whispered and Mayra nodded.

  She inclined her head toward Gaulte; that dragon’s entire body had shrunk back from his mother for a moment. “I believe he did, as well,” she returned in the same tone.

  The old black dragon’s mind-speak was a rasping pit of anger. By the Great White Dragon, I should have come here. I should have looked everywhere after those blue demons left.

  Before either witch could question the two dragons, they felt another wave of rage rush through Gaulte. He bared his teeth. I should have felt it! Gaulte’s rage was as confused as it was vehement. I have been in here for days now. Why didn’t I know it had been here?

  Because your visitor did not expect you to have anyone other than a dragon here. Something was able to come into your chamber and search it, intentionally leave its touch behind, and enable it to be hidden from other dragons. The old dragon touched Poppie with the gentlest talon and the cat purred. The Elder then turned to Mayra. Through her, we now see it. It was death, come into your chamber, which you could not know until Mayra opened it.

  * * *

  “What?” Mayra demanded. “By the gods, what are you talking about, Theura? Death?”

  Wolfe drew her closer to him; Mayra knew he could feel small tremors running through her body, but she couldn’t stop them. Had the dragon any idea how badly she had just frightened Mayra?

  “What is there that we can’t see,” he asked Theura, “yet Mayra can help you see?”

  Surprisingly, the elder dragon bent closer to Mayra, as though to reassure her. An odd, humming noise emanated from her, not unlike Poppie often made toward humans.

  “Be calmed, dear witchling. No one can truly see it.” Theura spoke softly and deliberately. “There are many reasons it might be here, but I believe that whoever was here wanted us to know an unknown dragon was able to penetrate our defenses and it brings a threat of death to us.”