Someone called out from above, and Sigrun replied in greeting. A moment later, something began to descend from overhead—a large wooden platform suspended on thick bundles of rope. The lift.
“We bring guests,” Sigrun shouted as she led her party to the lift. “Notify the elders and find our sisters from the Moss tribe.”
When the platform reached the ground, Sigrun stepped onto it and turned to face Leyloni and Arysteon. “Come.”
Arysteon glanced at Leyloni briefly before stepping onto the platform, his eyes shifting between the rope supports skeptically.
Leyloni adjusted her hold on Serek and followed her mate. Standing next to him, she caught his hand and laced her fingers with his. “It is safe.”
He looked at her and gently squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.
The other huntresses remained on the ground. Sigrun whistled, and with a lurch, the platform rose.
Arysteon grunted, tightening his hold on Leyloni’s hand. His toes curled, making his claws scrape the wood beneath him, and his tail swept side to side restlessly. Leyloni couldn’t help but smile. Her dragon was nervous. She eased a little closer to him, nudging his shoulder with hers.
“What a brave dragon you are,” she cooed teasingly into his ear.
He looked down at her, his violet gaze blazing. “I will have vengeance for you treating me like a hatchling, little human.”
“I will look forward to it.”
A wicked grin tugged up the corners of his mouth. “This entire tribe shall know you are mine—and that you are well loved and thoroughly punished.”
Leyloni caught her bottom lip between her teeth as heat flooded her. His words made her nipples harden and ache; she knew he would make good on that promise.
Sigrun cleared her throat. “That is…impressive.”
Leyloni started, having forgotten they were not alone, and turned her face toward the woman. Sigrun was staring at Arysteon—or more specifically, she was staring at Arysteon’s cock, which had extruded.
Gritting her teeth, Leyloni passed Serek to her mate, pulled her bag forward, yanked it open, and removed one of the blankets. She quickly swept it around Arysteon’s waist, having to briefly press against his chest in the process, and pulled the loose ends together at his hip to cover his erection and taut backside. She glared at Sigrun as she tied the blanket in place.
Once it was secure, Leyloni stepped back to survey her work. Though his cock was now hidden from view, she doubted anyone would mistake the significant bulge in the blanket’s fabric for anything but what it was.
Sigrun laughed. “There are not many males here. You cannot blame me for looking, especially when he is so large and…different. How does it fe—”
“We are not discussing my mate’s cock,” Leyloni said, brows falling low.
The other woman hummed, raking her eyes over Arysteon again. Something churned in Leyloni’s belly, instilling her with a sour, ominous feeling.
Females did not stake claims on males. That was not the way. That Leyloni was doing so could well be considered unacceptable, and if these people did not approve…
Perhaps we should go. Perhaps we can make a home away from here, away from other humans.
No. This is for Serek. He needs this. We are a clan, I am his mother, and I will not leave him behind.
But there was no way Leyloni could—or would—share Arysteon. It would kill her to see him with another female, to even think of him with another female.
Arysteon curled his tail around Leyloni’s waist and pulled her closer. He grasped her chin and forced her to look up at him. “What troubles you, my heartsong?”
Leyloni glanced between her mate and Serek, who was resting his weary head on Arysteon’s shoulder. Swallowing thickly, she offered Arysteon a smile, reached up, and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Nothing.”
The platform reached the top before Arysteon could press her further, and Sigrun stepped off as a couple other women tied off the lift ropes.
“Come. The elders are waiting,” Sigrun said.
A crowd was already gathering on the platform, everyone eager to get a closer look at Arysteon. Their expressions were filled with awe, and amidst their excited whispers and conversation, Leyloni heard the words dragon, beast, and male more than once.
Leyloni and her companions hadn’t made it more than a few steps when two women pushed through the crowd and rushed toward her. She recognized them immediately—Hirdris and Grenda. Hirdris was ten years older than Leyloni, and Grenda, her lover, was of similar age, with dark skin and eyes. Grenda had come to the Moss tribe years ago from another tribe far to the south.
This was the second time Grenda had been forced to flee her home tribe, and knowing that made Leyloni’s heart ache.
The women slammed into Leyloni, forcing her back a step as they wrapped their arms around her.
“You made it!” Grenda said, her voice raw. “We thought we were all that remained. After Havil…after he…”
Leyloni’s chest tightened, and she did not fight her tears as she embraced her tribe sisters. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face into Hirdris’ blonde hair. She hadn’t thought she would ever see any of her people again, had thought them all lost to her forever. To see these two, for them to be alive and well, was more than Leyloni could have ever hoped for.
“We meant to look for you and Serek,” Hirdris said, “but the Bone Wraiths gave chase as we fled, and we did not want to lead them onto your trail.”
“We barely escaped with our own lives,” Grenda said, pulling back.
Leyloni opened her eyes to meet her gaze. “I thought everyone was gone.”
Grenda’s features contorted in pain. “We are all that remains of the Moss tribe.”
“But we are together now,” Hirdris said, releasing Leyloni and turning her tear-streaked face toward Serek and Arysteon. “And you brought Serek to us…and a…another male?”
Leyloni smiled as she looked at her mate and child. Serek’s eyes had closed, and his fist lay against Arysteon’s chest.
Arysteon—despite having a beat-up old blanket wrapped around his waist and a child in his arms, stood tall, proud, and majestic. “A dragon. My name is Arysteon. I am Leyloni’s mate.”
“You mated a…a dragon?” Grenda asked, eyes wide.
“The stories were true…” Hirdris said. “How did—”
“She boldly strode up to me, though I towered over her in my draconian rage,” Arysteon said, “and claimed me with her touch.”
Leyloni stared at Arysteon blankly for a moment before she burst out laughing. “The truth is not so simple as that, but”—she hugged the two women again—“we will speak of all of it soon enough. I will tell you everything, and you will tell me your stories.”
“We cannot wait to hear,” Grenda said as she stepped back.
Sigrun, who had quietly stood aside while Leyloni was reunited with her tribe sisters, smiled and gestured for Leyloni and Arysteon to follow as she continued along. She led them across a suspended bridge to a larger, central platform, upon which stood a large hut with a tall thatch roof.
She pulled back the hide flap hanging in the doorway, allowing Leyloni and Arysteon to enter before following them inside. The flap swung closed. It took Leyloni’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the difference in lighting, but what she saw once they did was comfortingly familiar.
As in so many of the huts in her village, this one was built around the trunk of the tree, incorporating the natural wood into the space. Openings on the walls allowed natural light to shine through, creating wide beams of illumination in which motes of dust danced lazily. There were colorful woven rugs and soft furs spread on the floor, with the richest of them arranged in a circle around the center of the room, ringing a firepit with a low-burning fire. Three people sat on the rugs around the fire—two women and one man, all of them sporting the gray hair of advanced age.
“We have new visitors, I see,” one of the women
said. She looked up from the basket she was weaving and started when her eyes fell upon Arysteon.
“Elders Katrien, Nelke, and Yulik,” Sigrun said, indicating the elders one at a time, as she moved to Leyloni’s side, “this is Leyloni of the Moss tribe, and the beastman is called Arysteon. He…is a dragon.”
“A dragon?” Yulik, the male, asked. “But he…”
“Appears as a beastman,” Sigrun replied with a nod.
Arysteon released a huff through his nostrils. “I would gladly give you a demonstration of my true shape, but I doubt you would appreciate this building being destroyed. I am a dragon, regardless of what you see.”
“And you…come peacefully?” Katrien asked, squinting at him.
“I do.”
“You may return to your duties, Sigrun. Thank you,” Yulik said.
Sigrun bowed her head. “Father. Elders.” Then she turned and left the hut.
Nelke set aside her unfinished basket, rose to her feet, and walked toward Arysteon, with her long, wispy gray hair flowing freely about her shoulders. Her back was slightly bent, but she seemed to move without trouble. “How did you come to be in this form?” She raised a hand, holding it over Arysteon’s shoulder. “May I?”
Arysteon’s jaw muscles bunched, and he glanced at Leyloni questioningly. His discomfort was clear, but it was also clear that he was more concerned about what she thought—he was more concerned about whether she approved of this.
“It is your choice,” Leyloni said softly.
He nodded and returned his attention to Nelke. “You may.”
The elder pressed her fingers to the hard ridges on Arysteon’s shoulder, running her fingertips along the valleys and peaks of his scales. She cackled with glee. “I have touched a dragon! May luck allow me to live another twenty years!”
Yulik groaned and ran his palm over his craggy face.
Leyloni chuckled, catching the startled but amused look in Arysteon’s eyes.
“And who is this?” Nelke asked, brushing the backs of her gnarled fingers over Serek’s cheek.
“His name his Serek, son of Atalla. He is now mine,” Leyloni declared.
Katrien’s eyes rounded. “A boy?”
“And you have come seeking refuge?” Yulik asked.
“We have,” Leyloni replied. “Our tribes have long been friends despite the great distance between us. But my people…”
“We know, my dear,” Nelke said, placing a comforting hand on Leyloni’s arm, “and we welcome you to remain with us. That you bring two males—one who is a dragon—blesses our tribe with good fortune, but we would have you regardless.”
“Your tribe sisters arrived many days ago and told us what happened,” Katrien said. “Our huntresses have remained vigilant ever since. That is why Sigrun and her party happened across you. We do not know if these Bone Wraiths will journey so far as to enter our land, but if they do, the Snow Trees will be prepared to avenge your people.”
Arysteon stepped forward, and the movement—however simple—commanded the attention of everyone in the room. “You have accepted my clan into yours, so now I may consider all of you my clanmates. You have my protection against any threats our tribe may face. Your fights are my own, and I vow I shall do all in my power to protect our people.”
“We are grateful for your protection,” Yulik said, bowing his head. “Your presence here will make our tribe strong.”
Katrien nodded. “Strong blood, strong tribe.”
“You are welcome to take your pick of our huntresses as brides, dragon. As many as you wish,” Nelke said, turning to move back to her rug. “Our women would be proud and sing their thanks to Mother Eurynome to be chosen by a dragon.” She cackled as she eased herself down on the rug. “I know I would, were I younger.”
Yulik grunted. “Hag.”
“Ah, but you enjoy me, old man.”
Despite the elder’s lighthearted banter, Leyloni’s heart ceased to beat, and her breath hitched. She dropped her eyes to the floor as she struggled to breathe, but her chest was too tight and wracked with pain.
This…this was it. This was what she’d feared would come to pass. Males were too rare for her to be so selfish. Yet everything inside her screamed that Arysteon was hers and hers alone. She’d never felt the urge to harm any of her tribe sisters, but just the thought of other women touching Arysteon intimately, of pressing their mouths to his lips—lips that had kissed Leyloni so passionately, so tenderly, so lovingly—made her want to draw blood.
“I am already mated to Leyloni,” Arysteon proclaimed. “There will be no others.”
Leyloni glanced up, the tightness in her chest only strengthening. Heat crept across the surface of her skin. The elders were staring at Arysteon with looks of startlement and confusion.
“That is not the way,” Yulik said. “You are a dragon. Your seed must be strong, and it would gift us many males.”
“You must share it with the tribe so that our bloodlines may be strong, as well,” said Katrien. “That is your role as male, as it is for all males.”
Leyloni lifted her gaze and turned her head to look at her mate. Serek, having awakened, had placed one little hand on Arysteon’s face, while the other was tangled in the dragon’s long hair.
With great patience and only a hint of agitated stiffness in his movements, Arysteon gently broke Serek’s hold on his hair and turned to face Leyloni. There was fire in his eyes as they briefly met hers.
Though Serek attempted to cling to him, Arysteon passed the baby to Leyloni and whispered, “Just a few moments, little dragon.”
Serek offered a bit of angry gibberish in response, but his annoyance was short-lived, having faded by the time he turned to Leyloni. He smiled. Leyloni’s heart melted a little, but her anxiousness did not fade.
The air seemed suddenly charged as Arysteon stepped toward the elders. “Hear me, humans, for I will not repeat myself.” He spoke through bared teeth, voice rough and rumbling. “Leyloni belongs to me. She is mine in every way, and she will be for eternity. And I am hers—hers alone. There will be no others. My heart beats only for her, my heartsong sings only for her.”
Arysteon swung his gaze back to Leyloni, his violet eyes even brighter than before. “Her womb alone shall be gifted my seed, and her womb alone shall carry my offspring.” He returned to her side and put his arm around her, drawing her close. His chest vibrated with a low growl. “I give this tribe my protection, my loyalty, my strength, but only she receives all of me.”
Leyloni’s heart fluttered, and her core was hot and needy. His words, spoken with such vehemence and unwavering certainty, destroyed any doubts she might have had about what would happen here. The will of the tribe did not matter in this. Arysteon was hers, and he would be hers alone forever.
“Hmm.” Katrien tented her fingers on her lap. “It is not our way, but…”
Leyloni tore her eyes away from Arysteon to look at the elders. Worry gnawed at the back of her mind, but it was greatly diminished. If the elders denied Arysteon’s claim, if they demanded he take other females in order to stay here, Leyloni knew she, Serek, and Arysteon would leave without hesitation. Serek needed more people in his life, but he also needed to be with his mother and father—with Leyloni and Arysteon. They were a clan of three, and they would remain together.
“We will accept this,” Nelke said. She eyed Leyloni. “You have brought us two males this day, and good fortune along with them. We will accept the dragon’s protection and the sons you will bear within our tribe. You are Moss, but now you are also Snow Tree.”
Leyloni’s lips spread into a wide smile as relief flooded her. Holding Serek closer, she turned back to Arysteon. Her breath caught when she saw the look in his eyes. They were brimming with possessiveness, desire, need, and love. They told her all she needed to know, all she had known already.
Reaching up, he caught her chin and lowered his face closer to hers. “I see you, my heartsong.” He stroked her jaw with his thumb.
“I will forever see you—only you.”
“I love you, my dragon,” Leyloni whispered, tears brimming her eyes, and closed the distance between them to capture his mouth in a kiss.
Epilogue
The bird songs always seemed different in the winter. It wasn’t merely a matter of different notes and patterns, of different purposes behind them, or of some species having migrated, but of the season itself. The crisp, clear winter air and the dampening effect of the snow blanketing the ground lent the bird songs an otherworldly tone. It was a tone well suited to this landscape of glistening snow and sparkling ice.
Arysteon’s heartsong had changed, too—it was richer, deeper, more resonant than ever before. It had changed as his love for his mate grew with each passing day, it had changed once he’d realized that his small family—one piece of the larger clan he’d also come to love—would soon be a little bigger.
He’d never expected to find this sense of belonging and purpose again. He’d never imagined that following a single alluring scent as a lightning storm built over his forest would lead him to contentment, bliss, love. So many things could have been different that day. Even the smallest changes might well have kept him from this. Just the slightest difference in wind direction, or the rain starting a little sooner, might have been enough to prevent Arysteon from having ever found his mate.
He lifted his gaze to Leyloni. She was leaning against a nearby tree, stunningly beautiful even while bundled in furs and hides. The cold had brought splashes of pink to her freckled cheeks, and the locks of hair that had escaped her hood were as vibrant as fire against her pale skin and the even paler snow. Her eyes sparkled more brightly than the ice clinging to the boughs overhead, and her skin bore a vital glow.
But most radiant of all was the smile she gifted him as she met his gaze and ran her hand over her rounded belly.
To Love A Dragon; Venys Needs Men Page 21
