by Noah Harris
There were a few females and omegas doing the same, but he steered clear of them, unwilling to lose any of his own pursuers. He enjoyed the chase, but he had no intention of being caught. And with his natural speed, quick maneuvering, and unyielding energy, he was unlikely to be caught unwillingly. He dove low before rising high, spinning and weaving through others, diving straight for cliff faces and landing hard before pushing off to give a quick turn to his momentum. He chortled deep in his throat at his pursuers, occasionally glancing back to see their frustration at being unable to catch up, yet the eager desperation with which they continued, driven by hunger. He had gained several more through the course of his flight.
He was power.
He was desired.
He had all of these alphas wrapped around his claw.
And, he liked it.
He wore them out, let their desires run them ragged. Still he flew on, adrenaline and energy singing through his veins as the moonlight reflected off his scales.
He was a son of the Great Mother, and he was untouchable.
He lost track of time during his frantic flight, only focused on putting on a show. His body was sleek and flexible, pulling off aerial moves that he knew would impress. He lost himself in it, reveling in everything, in being a dragon.
Then the wind shifted and he caught a whiff of that scent again. The scent that was dark and smoky, chilling and molten. The scent that spoke of power and heat. The scent of an alpha, equally untouchable, but one he wanted very much to touch. The only one he would bend his convictions for. The only one his dragon, drunk on sensation and pheromones, deemed worthy of him.
In a burst of brash confidence, Rajiah altered his course.
Arulean and Lyphnia flew high above the others, spinning and swirling in a wide circle above the mountains, far apart from one another as they looped above the clouds. Others joined them. Rajiah distantly recognized Gerrald Onyx near Arulean. There were a few others, big dragons, old and of impressive lineage. None of them got too close to either the king or queen.
None of them, except for Rajiah.
He rushed directly through the invisible circle they were outlining, pulling his trail of alphas after him, though they were far behind. He spun and twirled in an impressive display before curling down and around. He rushed past his sister, feeling her spark of irritation and reveling in it. He knew how much Lyphnia liked to be admired, how much she liked to be chased, and how frustrated she must be that it wouldn’t happen as long as Arulean was around.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have dared to anger her this way, but he wasn’t quite in his right mind. He was drunk off the full moon, feeling powerful and brave.
In that fit of bravery, he spun toward Arulean, looping around him far closer than he should have dared, and playfully, tauntingly, teasingly batted him with his tail as he passed, spiraling away with a deep rumbling laugh in his throat. As he dove away, he twisted his neck back, eyes finding the large, black dragon. His flight had halted and he hovered in the air with steady beats of his massive wings. His eyes were dark as his scales, but they glistened as he watched Rajiah. But he didn’t move and he didn’t give chase.
And while he looked as irritated and unperturbed as a dragon could be, the wind brought him Arulean’s scent, thick with desire and pheromones, clearly projecting his want despite holding himself back.
That was enough for Rajiah. A new, fresh wave of desire rippled through him, fueling his desire to keep away from his pursuing alphas. None of them would have him. None of them were worthy. None of them made his heart pound and heat coil in his belly. If he couldn’t have Arulean, no one would have him.
He was untouchable, and he would remain that way.
The afternoon sun was far too bright for Rajiah’s liking. He groaned against the burn against his eyelids, curling deeper into the blankets, burrowing into the dark haven of his bed . He was awake, though he didn’t want to be. He could hear servants tiptoeing around the sitting room beyond his bed chamber, the clatter of dishes telling him that they were bringing him food and drink, setting him up water to wash with, and no doubt straightening the mess he had made when he had stumbled back through the doors last night, bumping into nearly everything in a blind and desperate, sleep-deprived daze to reach his bed.
He wasn’t sure what the time was, but the sun was high. He hadn’t reached his rooms until sunrise, when the moon was long gone from the sky and the first rays of light were peeking above the mountains into the valley.
He was exhausted, physically and mentally drained. He had led the chase nearly all night, pushing himself to the limit with what had seemed like an abundance of drunken energy to tire out the alphas who pursued him. It had worked. He flew them all ragged until they could fly no more and had to land before they crashed. And, after the last of them had dropped out of the sky, giving up their chase for the evening, Rajiah had flown onward, gliding on the wind and showing off that he was still there, still flying, still full of life where so many others had been forced to give way.
He had flown through the night, ignoring the ache in his wings and the burn of the muscles in his back. It was a pain he welcomed, an ache that meant he was alive, an ache of being a dragon. He had been one of the last to stumble back into the castle to his room at daybreak.
Last night he had felt invincible, powerful, untouchable by others or by exhaustion itself.
Now, he regretted everything.
His entire body ached. His joints were sore and felt swollen, his muscles tight and aching. Even his skin felt taut and tight and far too sensitive. There was not a part on him that wasn’t suffering from the full-body ache of sheer exhaustion, but his back was the worst. The muscles around his shoulder blades burned fiercely whenever he moved, throbbing when he was still. He didn’t fly much anymore. He did a lot of his traveling on the ground, spending his time with grounded shifters. He certainly didn’t fly like he did last night.
He was drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep, mind and senses hazy, when the doors to his rooms were thrown so wide they crashed against the stone walls. A familiar click of heels against the floor grated against his ears just as a familiar scent drifted under the cracks of the door to his bedchamber.
“You are dismissed,” he heard Lyphnia say lazily, but with the odd sharpness of authority that she always had around lesser shifters and servants. There was a shuffle and then the doors closed softly. More pacing, a pause, and then her voice rang out, louder, “Rajiah, it’s time to wake up.”
He groaned softly, pulling the blankets tighter around him, hoping to dissolve into the dark nest he had created. Perhaps if he was quiet and still enough, she would leave.
“I know you’re awake, dear brother. Come, you cannot spend the entire day in bed.”
“The hell I can’t...” He grumbled, but threw the blanket off anyway, ignoring the way his arms ached with the movement.
He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, raising his arms high over his head to stretch. The muscles in his back screamed in silent protest, his joints popping and bones aching. But the ache was oddly soothing. As much as it hurt, as exhausted as he was, it was the joyous ache of a good flight, of stretching his wings and pushing his body and being a dragon. It was a reminder of the freedom he had experienced.
He stood, slipping on loose pants that tightened around his calves and a loose tunic. He didn’t bother with anything else as he padded to the door and pushed it open, running a hand through his hair to detangle some knots. The sitting room was much brighter than his own room, where the curtains were at least half pulled to block out some light.
He squinted against the glare, scowling as his eyes roamed the room. He found Lyphnia lounging in one of the large, plush chairs, legs crossed delicately and draped over one arm of the chair. She was idly picking at a bowl of grapes that had been left on the low table in front of her.
She grinned at him as he entered the room, eyes sharp as always as the
y took in his appearance, smile amused. “Good morning, sleeping prince.”
He grunted, shuffling across the room to the privy. Once he had relieved himself and washed his face, running wet fingers through his hair to tame the wayward strands, he padded back out into the room feeling much more awake and much less like a disgruntled animal.
He practically threw himself into the lounge chair across the table from Lyphnia. While she draped herself elegantly and gracefully, he sprawled across the cushions and arms like a discarded towel.
“What brings you here so early?” he asked, reaching forward to pick up an apple and a knife.
“Do I need a reason to visit my baby brother?” she asked innocently, almost mockingly, as she plucked off a grape from the vine with delicate fingers before placing it into her mouth.
He eyed her with a raised eyebrow, expression unamused as he sliced off a piece of the apple. “No, but you usually have one. Especially this early after a full moon.”
“It’s not so early.”
“It is for us, and you know it. I didn’t get in until daybreak, and I’m willing to bet you didn’t either.”
She idly inspected her nails as she chewed, humming in acknowledgement. “Perhaps.”
She might try to play coy, but he knew he was right. Had she and Arulean been active mates, they would have retired much, much earlier. As it stood, he was willing to bet she had stayed out nearly all night just to lord over her domain and to keep from going back to an empty bed.
“Nevertheless, I am here to check up on you, dear brother.”
He raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly before answering. “Have I done something that would give you reason to check up on me?” he asked slowly, carefully, shifting through his memory of the previous night. He had been toeing the edge of being disrespectful towards her, but he doubted that was enough to warrant a visit. Especially one that seemed almost friendly.
“I witnessed your flight last night ...” She said offhandedly, slowly, picking at the grapes with nails that were filed to perfection. Rajiah felt himself stiffen, body going tense before he could force himself to relax. The knife stilled halfway through cutting off another slice. He stared at her, eyebrows raised and expectant. He couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was upset or not. She let her words hang in silence for several more minutes before continuing. “I lost sight of you after a while. After all, it is not necessary for me to watch the entirety of your flight, as from what I could see, it was a long one.”
He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “I wasn’t going to let just anyone catch me.” A small spark of stubborn pride welled up in his chest as he gazed at her steadily. “I won’t settle for anyone not worthy of me.”
She met his eye steadily, the small quirk in her lips almost proud as she nodded. “As is expected. You are a child of the Great Mother, after all. And my brother. A prince of great lineage. You shouldn’t settle for just any riffraff. Still, there are several suitable mates among our ranks, most of whom are either unmated or looking for additional mates. There were ... a plethora in your entourage last night.” There was a note of bitterness in her voice that she couldn’t quite hide.
He continued to eat, eyes on the task at hand. “Were there?” He asked, trying not to bristle, He knew what her tone indicated, and he didn’t like it. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She hummed idly. “Yes, you did seem a tad ... invested in the power held over them. As is your right, might I add.” She added, tossing the grapes aside and pouring herself tea from the steaming pot on the table. “In my youth, I was much the same way. It’s an exhilarating power to have over alphas. They are weak creatures when it comes down to brass tacks, and it is a phenomenal ability to wrap them around your finger like the pliable weaklings they are.”
She pushed a cup toward him, and Rajiah took it with a small nod of thanks. They both sipped, silence settling over the room.
“It was ... fun.” He said finally, after mulling over her statement.
She nodded, a small, knowing smirk curling over the rim of her cup. “It is,” she said simply. “And quite addicting. I came here to see if you had allowed one of them to catch you...” Her dark red eyes scanned the room pointedly, lingering on the open door to his bedchamber. “I suppose you did not.”
“I did not,” he confirmed, setting his apple core aside and lifting the tea cup to his lips.
“Mother would be disappointed,” she said wistfully, but with no real shame. They were both children who had defied their mother often.
“Mother is not around anymore.”
“Indeed. And, in truth, perhaps it is a good thing you did not allow any to catch you. It is, after all, only the first night of The Summit. You still have time to filter out a good mate.”
“And if I don’t find one?”
Her gaze slid back to him, irises dark but flashing crimson in the afternoon light. She looked him over steadily. “If you don’t ...?”
“If I don’t find anyone worthy enough to be my mate.” He clarified. “If I don’t want any of them ...?”
She regarded him coolly, one eyebrow quirked. “I will not force a mate on you, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I am not our mother. While I do believe, it is your duty to mate and breed, I understand the value of being picky and independent.” She set her cup down, rising to her feet in a fluid movement that put his own gracefulness to shame. She straightened her skirts and her bodice, rich red fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. “Still...” she said, idly picking at a stray thread. Her tone was chillingly even, emphasizing a warning with just one word. He stiffened automatically, freezing with his cup poised by his lips. He eyed her warily, waiting for her to continue. She waited long enough to stretch the apprehension. “Do be careful that you do not reach too high, dear brother.” She caught his gaze then, piercing and firm. The sharp eyes of the brutal leader she was. He felt it like a knife through his chest. “The fall from such a height could be treacherous...”
She gave him a smile that was far too toothy to be pleasant before sweeping out of the room. She didn’t look back and left the heavy double doors open to swing shut on their own.
Rajiah stared after her, mouth agape and eyes wide. He set the cup down with shaking fingers, ignoring the rattle as it was placed on the table. Her threat had been clear. She had noticed his playful invitation to Arulean during his flight. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had noticed the direction of the desire in his scent, or Arulean’s reaction to it. She was proud and she was vain, but her mind was sharp and clever.
Something twisted unpleasantly in his gut in the wake of her threat, but something else burned in his chest. He clenched his hands into fists, standing on legs that were solid despite his shaking knees. He wasn’t shaking from fear; however, he was shaking from the rush of adrenaline. A rush that came with the knowledge that she saw him as a threat.
Which could only mean that he possibly stood a chance.
He stepped out onto the balcony attached to his rooms, resting his hands on the railing and staring out over the valley. The ember burning in his chest lit to a flame. His sister had warned him away, but, despite her threats and her power, her words only made him want it more.
After all, dragons were stubborn and prideful and eager to take what they wanted. And he was a dragon through and through.
Chapter Six
Arulean liked to think of himself as an observant man. He was a firm believer that his ability had helped him get to his seat of power. He knew how to watch people, his people. He knew how to discern their motivations, their goals, their likes and dislikes, all from a distance. He believed that observation was the best way to learn about someone.
This had a very specific reason: he was a dragon king. Because of this, people acted differently around him. It wasn’t their fault, and he didn’t blame them. They found his presence intimidating, and their actions changed around him to show polite respect, loyalty, or concealed contempt. No
one could be open around him unless they were higher on the social ladder or a close friend or family. And while Lyphnia chose to keep herself distant and above her peers, Arulean learned how to get glimpses into their lives from afar.
When not in direct interaction, he could see how people acted on their own, their open honesty. He could see their true colors. He could watch how they molded themselves depending on who they interacted with. He could see how his people truly lived, what they truly thought, and what they truly wanted.
So he enjoyed standing off to the side. And while Lyphnia did so, peering out over their kind with a sharp eye, enjoying how they were separated from the rest, he stood, quiet and observant. He watched over his people with a keen eye, not to look down on them, but to watch. Silently watching. Silently determining what he needed to do to help them, to ensure their future, to care for them. His life was one destined to live apart from them. At first, it had seemed like a blessing, but now he saw it as a curse. He felt nothing but loneliness in the distance that separated him from the rest of his people, though he knew it was necessary.
He saw many things. He saw the shyness of attraction, watched it morph into the tentative affection of lovers to the brash boldness of mates. He watched love come and go. He watched tension arise between mates. He watched mateships break. He saw jealousy and acceptance. He saw people take on additional mates, saw tension in some pairings and easiness in others. He watched the rare child play and grow, innocence odd and comforting. He saw the wonder of the world through their eyes. He saw the gruff hardness of the older dragons, saw the shadows in their eyes and the ghost of smiles when they looked upon the young, a touch of sadness lingering on their features. He saw parents, proud. He saw friends, the easy honesty between them, bonds formed for life. He saw friendships break. He saw new ones form.
He watched gossip spread through crowds like a tangible thread. Watched words pass from person to person, saw glances, saw the looks on their faces, saw scandal and interest, amusement and the odd glee that comes from the misfortune of others. He saw it then spread to others, saw the thread twist and twine between individuals until the entire crowd was wrapped in a web. Saw more gossip start, watched more information spread. The source was never definable, but he saw the aftermath, watch the ripples of words through his people.
