by Riley Storm
Chapter Thirty-Three
Asher
Asher spread his wings wide, catching the early morning air in them, slowing his descent.
He was taking a risk by travelling in his dragon form all the way from Mount Aterna to Mount Teres on the far side of the valley, but it couldn’t be avoided. This was the only way he could assure himself that he would be on equal footing with Doran, should the bastard show himself.
The skies were still dark, which helped. Though the storm had moved on, the cloud cover remained, and combined with the fact the sun hadn’t quite risen over the horizon yet, it should all combine to keep him hidden from prying human eyes.
Asher’s head still moved frequently though, keeping a watch on the skies behind, but more importantly above him. Ice dragons could fly much higher than fire dragons, the chilly upper levels of the atmosphere not bothering them near as much. That was where his biggest risk would be from, and Asher was determined not to get caught off guard.
He landed without being attacked. That didn’t mean he was done being on guard, however, it only allowed him to shift his focus from one front to the other.
Members of Clan Teres were watching him warily, including several he’d spied from the air, but were keeping themselves just out of sight from where he’d landed in the courtyard. Although most conflicts between dragons were limited to little more than fistfights, an unannounced visit from another dragon was uncommon enough to cause a stir.
“Hello. I come in peace,” he said, trying not to chuckle at the vastly overused line.
At least one of the others watching him was a sci-fi buff it seemed, because he caught the dragon suppressing a smile.
Another, sterner dragon challenged him at last as he stood there on all fours, wings pulled tight to his scaled flanks. “What do you want?”
“I am Asher, of Clan Aterna,” he said, proudly announcing his lineage. “I am here to speak with Pierce Teres. About one of your own.”
That last bit produced a fair few startled looks and even a low buzz of whispers between a few of Clan Teres who were standing close to one another. It wasn’t often someone came asking for the head of a clan.
“Could you not have called?” a new voice called from behind him. “We have these wonderful things called telephones. Many are even portable. Though I suppose reception does suck this far up.”
Asher smiled, his long sinuous neck twisting so he could look behind him.
“Alas,” he said, his tone canceling out the friendly greeting on his face as a face he recognized, though did not know personally, came toward him. “This cannot be trusted over the airwaves.
Pierce’s eyebrows lifted at that revelation, betraying his surprise. “Oh really? And what is so serious that you must see me in person?”
Asher thought about asking to go somewhere private, but by talking to him like this, Pierce was making it clear that he kept no secrets.
“Doran,” he said quietly.
Now Asher was the one to be surprised, as more than one of the assembled members of Clan Teres shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his name.
So, this isn’t a surprise to them. They expected that something would happen eventually, that someone would come asking about him.
“You were aware of this,” Asher said, trying to keep the challenge from his voice.
“Not…completely,” Pierce said quietly. “What has happened?”
This was where Asher wavered. If he outright accused Doran of stealing his treasure, then he would be effectively accusing Clan Teres of breaking the Scarlet Accords. This was no small thing, and Asher wasn’t sure that he wanted to be the first one to make that accusation in centuries.
“He…has something of mine,” Asher said at last.
Pierce regarded him warily. “Why come here looking for him, then?”
“Well, the last time I saw him, he tried to freeze my human mate and me in an ice storm. In the middle of July. With other humans nearby,” Asher said, wanting to make it very clear that Doran wasn’t playing by the rules, and needed to be found. Even if he skirted the biggest issue of the treasure.
“I see,” Pierce said unhappily. “That is most unfortunate to hear.”
Asher nodded. “Can you tell me what you know? Is he here?”
Pierce shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I haven’t seen or heard from him in about three weeks.”
Asher cursed silently, his wings rustling against his sides as he shifted in irritation. Right around the time that he bought Emma’s company. Just shortly after Asher wrecked her house. Whatever he was up to, Doran had been planning this for quite some time it seemed.
“Can you tell me anything about him?”
Pierce shrugged, looking helpless. “Not really.”
“I can.”
Asher looked over at the speaker, a tall young-looking shifter with black hair down to his shoulders, clad in a red windbreaker and dark blue jeans. He seemed uncomfortable with what he was ready to say. Glancing back at Pierce, he waited. Eventually, the head of Clan Teres motioned for the member to speak.
“Doran was my friend. He was a normal guy, normal life. For one of us at least,” the other dragon shifter said with a wry smile. “Until about a month ago. Then he began to change. He grew distant. He grew angry.”
“Angry at what?”
“Everything. The world, the other clans, humans. Kept going on about how we’d lost sight of our real purpose. That we needed to get back to our roots. Whatever that meant.” The dragon shrugged helplessly. “Then he up and disappeared. No note, nothing.”
“Great,” Asher muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
It seemed like his trip was going to be made in vain.
“If he does return, please notify Clan Aterna, and hold him until I can arrive,” Asher said. It wasn’t a request.
Pierce’s eyes tightened. As a clan head, he wasn’t used to being told what to do, but in this case, it seemed he recognized that one of his own had overstepped their boundaries, and that Asher was doing his best to minimize the clan on clan unfriendliness that could just as easily result from such a confrontation.
“I can certainly do that,” he said, dipping his head low. “Is there anything else, Asher of Clan Aterna?”
“Not unless you can figure out why Doran would want to be stirring up shit between multiple clans? He’s trying to rope a third one into this,” Asher said, without giving details. “I don’t intend to let him achieve what he wants, but that’s not going to stop him from at least trying.”
The surprise on Pierce’s face from that admission swept aside any last lingering concerns Asher might have had about the clan head knowing more than he was letting on. Pierce was completely unaware of Doran’s attempt to lure Clan Rixa into the brewing conflict as well.
“Why would he want to do that?” Pierce mulled, thinking it over. “What possible good could come from setting the clans at odds with one another? Not that I can see him succeeding. It would take something pretty drastic to break a peace that has lasted for centuries now.”
Asher’s yellow dragon eyes lingered on the clan head for a long time, imparting the full weight of his gaze. He wasn’t going to come out and say what had happened because that would be giving Doran exactly what he wanted. But he could make it so that Pierce understood Asher was doing his best to keep it under wraps and ensure things didn’t spread.
“Damn,” Pierce said under his breath as he understood. “I wish I could help you Asher. I really do, but I don’t have any more information for you.”
“Very well,” Asher said, spreading his wings. He didn’t want to delay getting back to Clan Aterna. “I think you for your time, Pierce. Know that I do not hold Clan Tere in any way responsible for what has happened.”
“We thank you. If anything more comes up, we shall notify you immediately,” Pierce said, backing away from the open courtyard so as to avoid being buffeted by the worst of the winds as Asher launched himself sky
ward with a mighty flex of his legs followed by a sweep of his wings.
Frustrated as his lack of progress, Asher rose into the sky, beating his wings faster than was necessary. The sky was beginning to brighten, and he didn’t want to be in the air for any longer than absolutely necessary.
How am I going to find this dick now, when he’s decided to move out on his own?
Asher was at a dead end.
“Damn,” he growled, feeling helpless, and no longer in control of the situation. It was still Doran’s show, no matter what he tried to do.
Rising high into the sky, Asher set his sights on Mount Aterna, and home.
He was halfway there when something slammed into him. Pain lanced across his side, ripped through one of his wings, and then the world went dark.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emma
She sat up, looking down at her stomach as her belly rumbled so loudly she swore it echoed off the walls.
Asher had gotten up bright and early to head out on his journey to one of the other dragon clans—dragon clans, right, those are a thing now—barely disturbing her from her sleep. He’d paused just long enough to kiss her on the cheek before departing, promising to be back before she woke up for real.
“Well, I’m up,” she said to the empty room as sunlight streamed in through the window. Apparently, dragons didn’t believe in blinds, because as soon as the sun had come over the mountain, Emma had found herself clawing at the covers, trying to stop from going blind.
“So rude,” she muttered, her back now turned to the window. “How do they even sleep in? Don’t dragons know about lazy Sundays?”
Of course, it was Thursday, not Sunday, but it didn’t matter to Emma. She couldn’t go back into work. Not when her new boss was apparently some sort of psychopathic dragon, intent on killing her and Asher.
Apparently, lazy Thursday wasn’t in the dragon vocabulary either.
Shame, really.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to you,” she grumbled as her stomach announced its state to her again. “You’d think it was the end of the world.
Rumble.
Emma glared. Stomachs weren’t supposed to be sentient; they shouldn’t be allowed to respond on cue like that. With a sigh, she flung the covers off her legs and got out of bed. Asher still wasn’t back, so that meant it was going to be up to her to find out what the deal was with food.
That meant venturing out into the hallway and the house beyond. There was a tiny bit of a thrill in that, about going out to meet his brothers maybe, or some of the other dragons of his clan.
“Clan Aterna,” she whispered, saying the name out loud. It would take some getting used to.
A thought struck her. Was his clan named after the mountain? Or was the mountain named after his clan?
“Oh, now that would be a neat little piece of trivia,” she said, stretching high, feeling her spine lengthen and stifling a yawn as she prepared to face not only the day, but a clan full of dragon shifters.
“You can do this,” she said, trying to give herself confidence as she moved into the bathroom, staring at her reflection. “You can do this.”
The idea was more than a little terrifying. What if they didn’t take to her? What if they wanted her gone? Worse, what if they were angry at Asher for telling her their secret? Emma swallowed nervously. Would they take that out on her?
There was so little that she actually knew about dragons, their temperaments, actions, just everything! Asher had said that there were humans who lived here as well, but Emma couldn’t bank on running into one of them first. Plus, who said they would like her either? Emma considered herself to be a mostly friendly person, but nobody was liked by everyone.
“What the heck happened to my self-confidence?” she whispered, splashing water over her face, watching it run down her cheeks and drip into the white porcelain sink. “You are not that terrible of a person. They have no reason to dislike you. If Asher wasn’t comfortable with it, he would not have left you in their care. He said you would be safe here. So, believe it.”
She opened a drawer, pulling out a sweatshirt and a matching pair of pants, both in dark gray. No logo, no name, nothing. How boring. Emma wondered if the clan simply didn’t care, or if they had something against the idea of a logo or words or such that would make the outfit eminently more fashionable.
You own a pair of crocs still. Who are you to talk about fashion?
Emma cringed at her own internal monologue, knowing full well that she was just delaying the inevitable. Her stomach wanted food, needed food, and she had to go get it.
“Just go out there. You should have died yesterday, but you didn’t. Make each day count. Motivational quotes, yeah!”
Emma rolled her eyes. She was stalling again.
Putting on the clothes and her shoes—they were still a little wet and she cringed at the sensation, but there was nothing else to use, so she sucked it up—she pulled the door open.
That was step one. Step two was to actually leave the room.
You’re being a baby. Also, food.
She didn’t move.
They might have coffee…
Emma was out the door and walking down the hallway immediately. She only knew a tiny section of the large modern house, and so decided to retrace those steps, to familiarize herself with them at least a little more.
To the end of the hallway, down a flight of stairs, and she was at the front door.
“Eep!” she yelped as the door opened to admit someone. She moved out of the way.
“Hey, you must be the new girl. Welcome!” a woman about Emma’s age said with a smile, carrying a bag in one hand, holding the door with the other. “I’m Clarice. I’m with Logan and—oof!—hey, watch it,” she shouted as a pair of boys no more than ten burst through the door behind her.
Emma smiled. “Hi, I’m Emma.”
“Hi, Emma. Sorry, gotta go. Kids,” she said with a happy yet tired sigh, and dashed off, shouting for the two boys to reign it in.
Well that was fun, Emma thought with a smile. So, word had gotten out about her at least. Logan, she recalled, was Asher’s brother. She’d met him on her first trip up here.
Taking a chance, she followed the trail of shouting. If she knew ten-year-old boys like she thought she did, they would be heading one of two places.
Jackpot. Emma’s smile widened to a grin as she entered the kitchen to see both of them grabbing a snack, trying to tear the food out of each other’s hands. One would snag the bar from his brother, but in the process would let down his guard on the already owned piece, and so that would be stolen back. The process repeated itself a dozen times before the food was suddenly gone, both boys munching happily, looking satisfied.
“Don’t waste your brain on it,” Clarice said where she was unpacking a bag. “They do the same thing all the time, and I have no idea how the food gets consumed, let alone how they both end up with equal amounts. I swear, it’s magic.”
Emma smiled, unsure of what to say.
“You said your name was Emma?”
She nodded.
“Emma Starling,” a male voice said from off to the side.
Logan entered the room.
“Dad!” the boys shouted as one, racing for their father.
Logan ducked and weaved out of their path, though Emma was pretty sure she’d seen him straight-arm one of the boys to avoid getting wound up in them. He made a beeline for his wife—mate, they call them mates here, she reminded herself—kissed her on the cheek and embraced her.
Then he casually slipped to the side a moment before the boys arrived. Both of them skidded to a halt, one going left to avoid their mother, the other going right.
Unfortunately, the one on the left went right, and the one on the right went left, and so they crashed into each other and fell in a heap at their mother’s feet.
Which was precisely when Logan swooped in with a mighty roar and picked both of them up, one in each massive arm, hoisti
ng them over his shoulder.
“I’ve got you now!” he trumpeted victoriously as the boys howled with delight and struggled to get free from their father’s grasp. Logan moved out of the kitchen toward a room full of sofas and a television that was adjacent, and the sounds of roughhousing continued.
“Hi. I’m Clarice. Logan is my mate, those are Kard and Lin,” the diminutive blonde said, coming over to extend her hand. “You’re Emma. You came in last night with Asher. Am I right so far?”
“Totally correct,” Emma said, taking her hand, shaking it. A shriek of delight tickled her eardrums.
“Boys,” Clarice said.
“Twins?”
“Yes. Whatever gave you the hint?” Clarice said dramatically, though she was smiling from ear-to-ear at the sounds from the other room.
“You…” Emma hesitated. “You’re human?”
“One-hundred percent,” Clarice said with a smile. “Born and raised right here in Five Peaks.”
“Amazing.” Emma nodded. “How long have you been up here?”
“Oh, let’s see. About twelve years now? I was in my early twenties when I met Logan. Just back from school.”
Emma smiled tightly. Her early twenties hadn’t been anything like this. Not at all…
“You must be hungry,” Clarice said suddenly. “What do you want?”
Emma shrugged. “Um, anything breakfast would be wonderful. I’m really not a picky eater,” she said, stifling another yawn.
Clarice nodded, though her eyes narrowed a little. “How do you feel about coffee?”
Emma must have reacted, because Clarice laughed loudly and started pointing. “Don’t say another word. Food there, fridge there. Look around, I’ll make us a pot. I’m sure we’ve got a lot to talk about. You must have a ton of questions, I’m sure.”
“Oh, you are amazing,” Emma gushed, pulling open the pantry, which was closer. “Do you have peanut butter by chance? Some toast would be absolutely perfect.”
Her stomach agreed.
“Sure do. It’s in there somewhere too.”
Emma kept looking until she found it, then went about locating the toaster, and plates. Clarice helped, and she found that they developed an easy, working relationship without any troubles. She liked this woman, Emma decided after a few minutes. They could be friends.
