On Wings of Passion (On Wings Saga Prequel)

by M. D. Grimm

  He stumbled, and his heart leapt in his throat. If Asagoroth could show such vulnerability, then he couldn’t do any less.

  “I love you.”

  Asagoroth blinked slowly, his entire focus on Roland. “I have heard that word before, but I don’t know what it means.”

  Roland frowned. Not the response he was hoping for. “Have you never had someone love you? Surely other dragons or demons—”

  “Dragons are not loved. We are feared. We are followed.”

  Confused, Roland frowned harder. “But I know a few of your demon soldiers appear mated. There’s obvious affection there. So why can’t dragons…?”

  Asagoroth sighed heavily. “Dragons are made to destroy and conquer. We fight. We battle. It is all we know. It is all we do. There are mating seasons every twenty years, but those are short and not about affection.”

  Roland swallowed hard.

  “All other times we battle each other for dominance.” Asagoroth met his gaze. “The universe does not have enough room for more than one dragon. Only one will survive. Only one is meant to survive.”

  Roland stroked his cheek, sympathy hurting his heart. “You’ve been fighting all your life, haven’t you?”

  “Fighting is my life.” He paused. “Or was.”

  Roland smiled slightly.

  Asagoroth pressed into his touch. “There is something else you should know.”

  “What?”

  “Only a dragon can kill another dragon.” His eyes flashed darkly, an unknown emotion moving through him.

  “But if there is only one dragon left standing….”

  “Then that dragon is immortal.”

  Roland gaped. “Why would the One Who Brought the Light form dragons in such a way? For what purpose?”

  Asagoroth slightly shook his head. “Only dragons and a few trusted demons know this truth.”

  Roland pressed both hands to Asagoroth’s face and stared into his eyes. “You can trust me, my dragon, and you can tell me anything.”

  Asagoroth’s gaze softened, filled with adoration. “My angel.” He paused. “Tell me, please, what is love?”

  Roland chewed on his lower lip, trying to bring his thoughts back from the concept of immortal dragons. “It, well, I think love is a force that shows you what is most important.”

  Asagoroth considered him. “Then when you say you love me, that means I am most important to you?”

  “I…. Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean.” How did that happen? He thought of his parents, his friends, his sister. He remembered his home and his studio. He loved them, and they were important to him; they always would be. But they didn’t need him. They had their paths laid before their feet. They would survive without him.

  While he wasn’t arrogant enough to think Asagoroth wouldn’t survive without him, he did think the dragon needed him. And the opposite was true. He needed Asagoroth.

  Asagoroth looked surprised by Roland’s confession, and said, “Then I believe I love you as well. For you have become most important to me.”

  Roland’s heart knocked against his ribs to hear the words. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “I want to keep this,” Asagoroth said, his voice rough. “I want to keep you. Let me keep you, please.”

  “Asa—”

  “I will stop it. All of it. My campaign, the demon attacks. I will end it all if you will become mine.”

  Roland’s breath whooshed out of him as he stared at Asagoroth. His legs lost strength, and he sat down hard on the ground. He could only stare at Asagoroth and wonder how this had become his life.

  “You mean that,” he whispered.

  “I will never lie to you,” Asagoroth said.

  Roland’s mind abruptly clicked to a word Asagoroth might understand. “You want me to be your mate.”

  Asagoroth stilled, then lowered his entire body to the ground, face close, eyes wide.

  “Yes. Become my mate, my dearest angel.”

  Tears clogged Roland’s throat as he scooted over and pressed his entire upper body against Asagoroth’s cheek and stroked the scales. He had to clear his throat several times before speaking.

  “Yes, my dragon, I will be your mate.”

  A strange sound came from Asagoroth, like an aborted roar. Then the air shimmered and cracked, and Roland jerked away right before Asagoroth shifted into his other form. He leapt up and dragged Roland to his feet before wrapping his arms and wings around him in a warm cocoon. His breathing was unsteady, and Roland could feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

  Roland was overwhelmed and amazed Asagoroth would truly give everything up, willingly, to win Roland to his side. What equally amazed him was he would, in turn, give up everything to win Asagoroth to his side.

  Roland lifted his head and stroked Asagoroth’s cheek. Those amazing eyes were slightly crazed when they met his gaze, but he could see it was with extreme happiness, and Asagoroth didn’t seem to know what to do with it. He really didn’t have experience with happiness, did he?

  “Mine,” he whispered.

  The light in Asagoroth’s eyes darkened before he growled, “Mine.”

  Roland pounced and captured Asagoroth’s mouth in a demanding kiss. More than willing to play along, Asagoroth kissed him back with bruising force. Then he spread his wings, and cool grass and moss tickled Roland’s back. Asagoroth spread Roland’s legs and pushed his knees to his chest before burying his face in Roland’s ass. Whimpering, Roland gripped Asagoroth’s horns and held on for the ride. Asagoroth stretched and prepared him with that skillful tongue once again, and his sore muscles gave way, willing to be used again. They both needed this connection, the union. After all those words and revelations, Roland had to feel Asagoroth’s strength again. He needed them to be one again.

  Soon Asagoroth hovered over him and pushed inside. Roland gripped his shoulders and welcomed him, each breath ending on a sob. Asagoroth was harder this time than the first and merciless with the speed of his thrusts. Every slam wrenched a cry of need from Roland, and he let himself be lost in the waves of pleasure.

  Asagoroth chanted his name, kissing his lips, his neck, and sucking on the bruised bite mark. Again and again Roland heard his name, then “my love” or “mate.” Asagoroth was as deeply entrenched in this thing they shared as Roland.

  He would never regret.

  Roland would never doubt his word again.

  Grabbing Asagoroth’s face, he captured his mouth as he flew closer toward climax, and Asagoroth devoured him as he viciously ravished his body. Mighty black wings fanned the air and covered Roland’s sight of the sky and the sun.

  Yet Asagoroth’s black skin still danced with color under the golden light.

  “Come with me,” Asagoroth growled before nipping his lower lip.

  Roland did without a single touch to his dick. He covered both their torsos with his release and relished Asagoroth’s hot flood as it filled him. He clutched Asagoroth close to him as Asagoroth held most of his weight off Roland with his forearms. Their breaths mingled, ragged and unsteady, before their lips met in gentle, tender kisses.

  “I love you, my dragon,” Roland whispered.

  The look Asagoroth gave him made his heart want to burst out of his chest and dance.

  “My mate. My angel.”

  Roland sat on Asagoroth’s head as they flew back to the cave, returning to reality. He really hoped his robe was still there.

  “There’s a temple far north, just before the Outer Borders in the Upper Realm,” Roland said. “It’s been abandoned for several millennia and long forgotten. We can stay there for a bit before returning here. I doubt any other dragons will find us there. Or angels.” He took a deep breath. “The only problem is that it’s too far away to grow any food for either of us.”

  “That will not be a problem.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  “I know spells.”

  Roland narrow
ed his eyes. “You used a spell to find angel heirs, didn’t you?”

  Asagoroth grunted, not exactly answering. He promised never to lie to Roland but he apparently didn’t always want to tell him the truth. Then it hit Roland, once again, what they were doing.

  “We’re really flying away together,” he whispered aloud.

  A rumbling note came from Asagoroth’s chest. “I don’t wish to cause you pain. Yet I do not see how you can live with the angels and still be with me.”

  Roland sighed and patted shimmering scales. “Neither do I. My people will never accept you. And living in the Lower Realms isn’t exactly….”

  “No,” Asagoroth said firmly. “There are still other dragons, and they have little love for angels. They will try to kill you on sight.”

  He shivered and lowered closer to Asagoroth’s heat. “You don’t hate angels.”

  There was a significant pause. “I am odd.”

  Roland blinked. “Odd?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. “Who told you of this temple, if it is forgotten and abandoned?”

  “My friend, Gabryl. He’s a knowledge keeper and collects arcane information as a hobby.”

  What he wouldn’t give to see Gabby’s face right then, just for a moment.

  “He is just a friend?”

  The note of jealousy had Roland rolling his eyes. “Stop that. Who am I flying off with, dragon?”

  Asagoroth grunted again, a light growl vibrating underneath Roland. He patted his head in an attempt to calm him.

  When the cave came into sight, his heart seemed to grow heavier with loss and grief, and guilt weighed down his shoulders. Despite Asagoroth’s love for him being the reason for abandoning his campaign—and wasn’t that mind-blowing?—the impending separation, certainly for life, from his family, his sister, was hard to bear.

  But separating from Asagoroth for life, to never see him again, was not something he could consider either. His family and his sister had each other. Who did Asagoroth have? No one. Dragons had no one. What a lonely life. And if Asagoroth became the last dragon alive, then immortality would be lonelier still. But the alternative was for another dragon to kill him. The possibility of that sent a shiver of dread down Roland’s spine.

  It wasn’t a perfect solution. But Anpiel and the others would be able to return home, and Roland would be able to have a passionate life with an amazing creature by his side.

  Asagoroth landed gracefully on the small ledge and stalked inside. Roland slid from his head and glided to the floor, the slight rustle of his feathers echoing faintly in the cavern. He retrieved his pitiful robe and slipped it on. He was so different now. He felt like a brand-new angel. He turned to find Asagoroth staring at him. He wondered if he felt the same.

  “I’m going to say goodbye,” he said softly.

  “I am sorry for your pain.”

  Roland tried to smile and rubbed a hand on Asagoroth’s snout. “Life is so often about pain.”

  Asagoroth nodded. He would know better than most, wouldn’t he?

  “But I hope,” he said, “that the joy I bring you will overcome the pain.”

  Roland did smile then and kissed Asagoroth’s snout. “We’ll bring each other joy. I promise to do my best on that.”

  “As do I.”

  Two demons approached, Bune and Agares, and Roland walked past them with his head high, his gaze focused on the small cave that held his sister and the others. When he walked in, all the demons stared at him. Many took delicate sniffs, and their eyes widened. Well, apparently he smelled like Asagoroth. Finding himself rather proud of that, Roland walked past the demons and then knelt in front of his sister.

  “Where have you been?” she said in a harsh whisper.

  Sabrael and Bethor glared suspiciously, and Zarall was biting her lower lip, looking worried.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. He grabbed his supply bag and gently touched his sister’s chin. “I love you, Anpiel. I always will. Remember that when you return home.”

  Her eyes bulged. “By the Light, what are you talking about?”

  “You’re going home.” He glanced at the others. “You all are. It’s over.” Then he stood and stepped back.

  Not surprisingly, Anpiel rose and followed him, gripping his arm. “Stop! Explain what you mean. Where were you? What do you mean we’re going home? What about you?”

  He took her gently by the wrist and pulled her hand from his arm. “You’re going home. I’m not. Goodbye.”

  She pounced on him, squeezing him tightly. “What did you do? By the Light, Ro! What did you say to the beast? What did you promise him?”

  Tears thickened her words, and he struggled to keep his own at bay. He hugged her close and took a deep breath of her scent.

  “You will make an amazing leader,” he whispered and pulled back.

  Bune and Agares returned and spoke in low tones to the other soldiers.

  “Ro, you’re scaring me.”

  Roland smiled, vision blurry. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be just fine.” He finally pulled away, and even as she made to follow him again, the demon soldiers created a wall between him and the other angels. He didn’t look back as she screamed at him. His tears fell as he walked across the cavern. He wiped at them, but they kept coming as sorrow clenched his chest.

  Asagoroth watched him silently as he approached. Roland kept walking until he bumped right into Asagoroth’s leg, and he wrapped his arms around the thick limb, struggling to find his balance again.

  Asagoroth purred and pressed against him. “I do not want you sad.”

  “It will pass,” he said. “I’m not leaving you, Asa. If I thought for one second that I could change the minds of every angel to see you as I see you, then I would stay and fight. But there are four heirs in that cave, and each one is afraid and repulsed by demons, and you especially. The rest of the angels will follow their lead, no matter how loudly I scream. They are the ones making me have to choose, not you.”

  “Your bravery staggers me.”

  That was quite the compliment, and Roland smiled through his tears. He pulled back and looped the bag strap over his shoulder. Then he flew up and settled on Asagoroth’s head. The demons brought out the other angels, surrounding the former hostages.

  Anpiel spotted him and gaped, going pale. Sabrael and Bethor looked on in horror while Zarall simply appeared confused.

  “Take them to the Upper Realm,” Asagoroth said to the demons in Middle Dimoori. “And let them free. Then relay my words to my legions and have everything prepared by the time we arrive.”

  Asagoroth must have spoken to the demons about the temple and preparing the sleeping chamber with gems from the Lower Realm. Apparently Asagoroth was most comfortable when he slept on a bed of gold and jewels. Such odd creatures were dragons.

  With that, Asagoroth turned, and as he gathered to launch into the sky, Roland turned and met his sister’s eyes. Understanding dawned even as a look of revulsion crossed her beloved face. She turned away, and in that moment, he knew he was dead to her.

  “Goodbye,” he whispered.

  Asagoroth flew through the sky, taking them both away from everything they’d ever known.

  Chapter Eight

  The lack of sleep from the night before caught up to Roland, and he fell asleep on top of Asagoroth’s head. He had disturbing, disjointed dreams and woke up an instant before Asagoroth pulled up sharply midair with a violent hiss.

  “Vedra!” he said right before another dragon, this one black with white stripes across her face, plowed right into him.

  The impact sent a shock wave through the air, a dull thrum that echoed across the sky. Roland was thrown from Asagoroth and tumbled uncontrollably, the attack so swift he didn’t have time to brace himself. He tried to straighten but collided with a hard, unyielding surface and blacked out.

  He awakened gradually, the wind whistling past his ears and pressure against his back. Once again he felt like one giant bruise. A
s his whirling mind finally clicked back into place, he realized he was falling. He popped his eyes open to see the Upper Realm far above him and the Middle Realm nearly a distant memory. He was plummeting right toward the Lower Realm, and a panicked sound came from him as he struggled to gain control over his wings. He’d lost several feathers from each and knew he’d lose more as he tried to stop his descent. His body resisted his attempt to roll over.

  “Oh Light,” he choked out, fear rushing over him, making his movements more frantic. A dark figure entered his vision and swooped toward him. He whimpered and finally managed to turn around. His wings bloomed out as they caught the draft of his plummet, and he gritted his teeth against the jarring pain at the sudden halt to his descent.

  Strong arms came around his waist, and before he could fight, a rough, accented voice spoke in his ear. “I not hurt you.”

  That voice.

  Roland swung his head around and looked into familiar green eyes. “Bune?”

  The demon smiled slightly as he took all of Roland’s weight. He had to since his hold prevented Roland from flapping his own wings. Their embrace was awkward, and Roland shimmered his wings intangible. Bune shifted his hold slightly, and Roland turned to his side, linking one arm around Bune’s thick neck. Then he looked up at the clouds far above their heads.

  “How did you find us?” he asked.

  “I go to garrison when I saw Vedra,” he said slowly, enunciating each Low Enochian word. “I go to warn. I am not fast enough. I see you fall.”

  Roland glanced at him to see Bune watching him intently. “Thank you.”

  Bune nodded before he looked up at the clouds as well. A bright shaft of lightning cracked across the surface of the clouds. Then another. And another. A roar bellowed across the skies. Roland shivered and unconsciously gripped Bune tighter.