My Dragon Master

by Alisa Woods

  I’m not here for a honeymoon.

  And yet… is this the destiny the Universe has been holding out for me? To be a dragon’s mate? It feels otherworldly and strange—magical—but what does it even mean?

  I need my deck. The real one I’ve been itching for all this time. The cards will show me the way. They’re the one constant, the one thing I trust. People have never been steady enough or reliable enough, but the cards have never steered me wrong. I settle back in my chair and wait. Just as I’m drifting off, Akkan returns, laden with several bags of stuff, Grace’s hand on his shoulder. She lets go of him and then disappears.

  I frown—I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. “Did she leave for good?”

  “Just going for food.” Akkan brushes me with a look that feels a little too intimate, but I can’t decide if that’s my imagination. “Are you all right?” He’s still carrying the stuff.

  “I’m fine.” I perk up a little. “Did you find my cards?”

  He smiles and hurries to set down the things—they look mostly like clothes, my tool bag, and a few toiletries; I travel light—then pulls my deck from one bag. When he hands it over, I just cradle it in my hands a moment. The High Priestess graces the box, which is worn at the corners, but her cascading red hair and eyelids painted as faux all-seeing eyes are still vibrant.

  “Thank you,” I say and mean it. Just holding them gives me a sense of center I haven’t had since I was taken. A light shudder runs through me with that thought.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, concern furrowing his brow.

  That he noticed feels both too personal and strangely reassuring. I peer up at him. “Just kind of… overwhelmed? And I’m afraid I may disappoint you as a soul mate, Akkan. I’m not very up for romance at the moment.”

  His concern melts away, and he kneels in front of my chair. He keeps doing that, and I find it oddly touching. He’s an Emperor, at least in some sense—a leader in his world, I imagine. Yet he’s at pains to lower himself down to my level, whatever that might be.

  He lifts a blanket hanging over the side of the chair and gently lays it across my curled-up legs. He tucks it in by my feet, then lifts his gaze. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited just to be able to look into your eyes.”

  I smile. “Three weeks? Lucía said I was out that long.”

  “So much longer than that.”

  My smile fades. “I don’t know about this—”

  “Don’t.” He lays his hand on my two, still clutching my cards. “Just let me care for you, okay? That’s the only arrangement we have here. I get to make sure you’re safe and have whatever you need. You heal from the trauma of all this. That’s all I need.” He seems to genuinely mean it.

  I settle a little more into the chair. “I can do that.”

  Akkan scurries off with my things to another room. The cottage itself is beautiful in its simplicity. White plaster walls with blue painted-wood-trimmed windows overlooking the water. The ceiling is rough-hewn wooden beams, and the floor is white-washed wood of the same kind. A rattan couch sits opposite my chair, and there’s a small coffee table between, but the rest of the cozy room is just a tiny table with an empty vase and stylish lamp. Around the corner, I can glimpse marble counters and hanging herbs and pots—looks like a gourmet kitchen. Akkan went down the other hallway to what probably is bedrooms. Or perhaps a single one. Despite his assurances, that still concerns me.

  Just as he returns, empty-handed, Grace arrives carrying two large bags. “I have food!” she proclaims, handing them over to Akkan. “Stuffed tomatoes and peppers, souvlaki, fried zucchini balls, Greek salad… you two have a feast!”

  “Thank you, Grace,” he says.

  “You just take care of my girl, all right?” She scowls at him, but it’s playful. Then she comes over and gives me a hug. “If you need anything—anything at all—I want you to promise you’ll have Akkan text me, okay?”

  “Promise.”

  She gives me one more hug, then waves and disappears.

  Teleportation. I’m still getting used to that magic.

  Akkan lifts the food bags. The mixed aromas are already filling the room. “Hungry?”

  “Not just yet,” I say. “Maybe later?”

  He nods and whisks those away, heading to the kitchen.

  I bask in the quiet warmth of the cottage. The sky is turning redder as the sun sinks. The distant sound of seagulls searching for their dinner floats through the open window along with the port’s salty air. My box of Tarot cards still sits cradled in my hands. I open it and pull out the deck. Normally, I’d use the full set—both major and minor arcana—but I’m in need of powerful guidance, and my mind is tired, so I sort out the major arcana and stow the rest. As I shuffle, just a simple overhand mixing of the cards, Akkan returns with two steaming mugs. He sets them on the coffee table and takes a seat on the sofa opposite me.

  “I took the liberty of making some tsai—Greek tea.” He has a small smile as he cradles his earthen mug in his hands and blows to cool it. “It’s just chamomile, but it’s considered a cure-all for anything that ails you.”

  I can’t help but be charmed. “I’ll take any curing you’ve got.” My face runs a little hot when I realize how open-ended that sounds. “Especially tea,” I add, unfolding my legs and leaning forward to pick up the mug. It’s warm, but not too hot—I take a few sips, and it seems like there must be magic in it already because everything in me loosens a little and relaxes.

  Akkan’s watching me intensely, but not so it makes me uncomfortable. He lifts his chin to the cards still in my hand. “Are you going to do a reading for me?”

  “I usually read for myself.” I set the mug back on the table.

  He seems intrigued. “Can I watch? Or will that ruin it?”

  I smile. “It is a little personal. But I don’t mind.” Maybe a good reading will help settle this arrangement we have and where it’s going… and where it is not. That’s the question I want to pose to the cards anyway. I shuffle them a few more times, then draw three, placing them face down on the table.

  “Past, present, future,” I say, tapping the center of each card and setting the rest of the deck aside. “Or, if I’m doing a more centering draw, I would say Release, Begin, Sustain. Release will tell me something I need to leave behind. Begin tells of something I need to start. And Sustain shows something good that I need to get back to my sustaining center.”

  He’s very interested. “I thought the cards told the future.”

  “Tarot helps you tap into your subconscious, drawing out your higher being and connecting you with the Universe. If you’re centered and understand your purpose, the future will unfold as it should.” I don’t mention I’ve been searching for my purpose my entire life… or that I wonder if being a dragon’s mate is it. I pull my legs back up into the rattan chair and rest my hands on my folded knees. I focus on the three cards spread on the table then close my eyes. I breathe in and silently meditate on the question I’ve posed to the cards ever since I started readings. What’s my purpose? Usually, I mean it in a more specific sense—what’s my next step here, right now, to lead me to the higher purpose the Universe has for me? Today, the question is framed around this idea of being a dragon’s mate. Specifically, this dragon’s mate. Am I supposed to allow this handsome man into my life, or is Akkan simply a bridge to somewhere else I’m supposed to go? I don’t trust easily—doubly so for men—so I’m looking for a serious sign from the cards.

  When I open my eyes, Akkan has a faint smile on his face. “You meditate.”

  “I’m focusing my intention so I can connect with the cards.”

  He gestures for me to proceed, but his eyes are bright with curiosity.

  It is strange to do a reading as a performance like this. I’ve done it before with friends, or even acquaintances looking for guidance on how it works, but not usually with a complete stranger. Although Akkan’s been at my bedside for three days since I’ve woken up and three
weeks while I was out—he’s really not a stranger. I push that awkwardness aside and focus my intent.

  Is my purpose to be a dragon’s mate?

  I turn over the first card. The Hermit. A woman seated but floating in the air on a burst of magic and stardust. She looks out over the ocean, white rocky cliffs and a staircase cut in stone below her. My gaze is drawn to the real-life window of this cottage in the Greek Isles and the white craggy stone cliffs all around the port. Akkan looks between the card and the window as well.

  “Are you the hermit?” he asks.

  “The Hermit is the past.” I’m more than a bit unnerved by the similarity between the card and myself, even down to how far I am above the water, the fact that I’m facing it, and even my pose in the chair. All right, cards, I get it. This cottage is the hermitage. My time here is limited. “The Hermit spends time alone in contemplation. She’s withdrawn from the world, seeking inner wisdom. This is my past. This is what I must release. I have to return to the world.”

  “You’ve already taken great strides in that.” He means to encourage, but he’s breaking my flow. “You emerged from a three-week coma. Might take some time to fully recover from that.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you doing this reading, or am I?”

  He laughs lightly then cocks his head, grinning. “My apologies. Please continue.”

  I wonder if his sexy smile lets him get away with everything. I think perhaps the answer is yes.

  I return to the card, tapping it once. “The Hermit can be physical, mental, or spiritual. Maybe it’s the coma I’ve already left behind. Maybe it’s this cottage that I should leave.” I flick a look at him, a bit of a challenge, and watch the smirk fade from his face. “Or maybe it’s an emotional apartness that I should release, emerging from isolation to rejoin the world of other people.” I’m thinking of my friends and clients back in the city. No one close, although a couple probably wonder where I disappeared to. Not enough to report me missing or anything. Jayda and Grace are probably the closest friends I’ve ever had. Which could be a sad commentary on my life, but attachments aren’t something I’ve fostered in this lifetime. Not since I was on my own.

  Just one more reason to be skeptical that the Universe wants me to be anyone’s “mate.”

  “The second card,” I say, tapping it before I turn, “is the present. If the past is what I should Release, this is something I should Begin. It’s the path to wellbeing in the present moment.” I turn the card.

  The Lovers.

  Everything in me stills.

  The card is richly sensuous. A couple embracing, naked and nearly kissing. Their eyes are closed, her hair whipping around in the storm of their intimacy. His hair is bundled in dreadlocks behind him, but she’s grabbed hold of some, pulling him into the embrace. Passionate red and swirls of magic surround them.

  “The Lovers are…” I stall out and slowly drag my gaze up to meet Akkan’s.

  His eyes are blazing.

  “It’s… a duality,” I mumble then drop my gaze to the card again. “Two halves of a whole. Soul mates.” My throat is running dry. “A great amount of trust is required for a lasting bond. Vulnerability, honesty…” I stop. It’s shaking me to the core. My resistance to this card is fierce, but the Universe is pulling no punches with me today.

  “You are my soul mate, Daisy,” he says softly. “The cards are correct about that. But that doesn’t mean you’re bound to anything. You get to choose.”

  My gaze snaps up. “Do I?” I’ve never felt like I was the captain of my own fate. The tempest of the Universe tossed me where it wanted me to go, and I did my best to ride the waves without breaking.

  “Yes, you do.” He’s certain of this. “With me, in any case.”

  And I believe him. At least, I believe he means it.

  I blink and stare down at the third card. “The Future. This is the possibility before me. The thing I need to Sustain my forward movement.” Toward my purpose. In a way, I’m glad I drew the Lovers first. Maybe that’s something for right now, but I’m moving through this present moment into a Future that’s something other than being Akkan’s lover. I turn the card.

  Death.

  My throat closes up.

  To be precise, Death and Rebirth. The duality of this card is shown in the darkened red hood, so much like the Reaper, but instead of a face, there’s a shining star within. To make it more complex, the card is in reversal—upside down. I rarely read reversals, especially for major arcana. The cards are powerful in their own right, holding all the meanings simultaneously, but this time… it feels like the Universe is telling me something more.

  “Daisy?” Akkan’s voice is even softer.

  I clear my throat. “Death and Rebirth. The reversal means the card is blocked. Or Rebirth is dominant. But some transformation or symbolic death is coming. It’s a metamorphosis. An expansion that moves you closer to your most divine essence.” I’ve never read the Death card literally, but having just spent weeks in torture and then the eternal lake, floating and hovering between the real world and the magical one… the Grim Reaper’s breath feels too close to the back of my neck. I shiver and gather the blankets Akkan has heaped around me. He’s up from the couch and once again kneeling before me.

  “You’re not going to die,” he says. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  I give a small, mirthless laugh. “I’ve already survived the worst the Vardigah could throw at me.”

  “Exactly right.” His eyes are bright. And kind. “You’re strong. You’ve survived. And now, all you need is time to rest and to heal.”

  “You’re right.” I’d hoped the cards would guide me, but maybe I’m not strong enough for the message they want to give. Not yet. But they’re right, the Present for me is the Lovers. There’s no escaping that I’m here with Akkan right now. This is something I need to press through to get to whatever awakening is coming with the card of Death. Or hopefully Rebirth. “What does it mean?” I ask Akkan, who’s still looking at me with concern. “To mate. What magic does that entail, exactly? Because obviously teleportation is part of the deal.”

  Akkan rocks back on his heels, but rather than retreating to the couch, he sits cross-legged on the floor before me. “Mating is a fusing of souls. It can only happen if the soul mates are in love. They literally open their hearts to one another, in passionate love-making, and their souls join into one. That releases the magic. The human female expresses her true dragon nature, becoming dragon like her soul mate. He comes into his full powers. They both can teleport. It’s… more than that.” He pauses to give me that sexy smile. “I only know the stories—and what the mated dragons tell me.”

  I sigh. My fatigued brain is struggling to put all this together. “You said you’ve been waiting a long time for me. You were born in 1795. But I was only born forty years ago. That seems like a system that doesn’t work very well.”

  He nods and drops his gaze to the dangling tassel of one of my blankets. “It’s never worked very well for me, that’s for certain.” Then he looks up again. “Your soul was born when I was, Daisy. 1795. My dragon soul broke and half fused with your human one. But of course, I had no idea which human girl was my soul mate. For that, we need the witches. When I came of age, sixteen years old, I went to the witch to be paired with my one-and-only soul mate… only to find you had died six years before.”

  “Wait… I died when I was ten?” A sense of connection fills me.

  “Yes, I suppose—”

  “Right. I remember that.” Everything suddenly fits like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

  “You… what?” His eyes go wide, and he leans back.

  “I remember my past lives.” He’s the first person I’ve told, other than that one past-lives-regression therapist I went to. I thought she would help me work through why I could remember. She was more than a little freaked that I already could. “I was out on a boat with my cousins. I don’t remember exactly why—I think they were teasing
me about learning to fish. Somehow, I fell off the boat and got tangled in the net. Death by drowning is not fun, let me tell you that.”

  His expression says maybe I shouldn’t have shared. “You remember?”

  “It’s not the kind of thing you invent, Akkan.” A prickle runs up the back of my neck. The Lovers. Vulnerability, honesty. I’m already telling him things I’ve told no one else. If he’s going to make fun of me—

  “I believe you,” he rushes out. “I just…” He runs his hand across his face, wiping away the shock. “I’ve never heard of a soul mate who remembers her past lives. Always, the slate is wiped clean. If a dragon cannot win her heart the first time they meet, she goes on to live a normal human life. He continues on, unmated. Then, when she is reborn, he has another chance.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “When you found out I’d died, you waited for another chance with me.”

  He’s wordless for a moment, struggling to say something, but he seems stuck. Finally, he says, “Yes. I waited.”

  Interesting. Sounds like there’s a story there. “In my next life, I was the daughter of a merchant in Rome. It was a good life, all things considered. Better than being the daughter of a fisherman. There were no dragon soul mates coming to win my heart.” I raise an eyebrow. But there’s something very right about sharing this with him now. As if, yes, this is part of my destiny—my purpose. To put these two timelines together, Akkan’s and mine. Two souls over two centuries.