WinterTail

by Theodora Lane

  At Bellaire, she stood on the corner and looked around. This was her corner. All the neon lights of the stores were out, no traffic lights changed colors, no streetlights shone down on her. From her phone, she knew it was almost four A.M, but it was so dark. The new day would be gray and bitterly cold. There would be no sunshine tomorrow or in the following days.

  Mattie plunged across the street, practically skating in her boots, toward the opposite side, their park, and past it to Tsang's house.

  She gave Tsang's bench a quick glance, and her heart beat a rapid staccato. She hated seeing it empty and she swore she'd return him to it when the weather warmed. Leaving it behind, she put her head down against the wind and trudged on.

  She made it to the other side of Bellaire, turned, and headed toward Tsang's street.

  Mattie would show them pigheaded and stubborn.

  »»•««

  Mattie paused in front of Tsang's house. The ice covered everything, and only a few people were out this early. No one paid much attention to her—they were busy with their own troubles.

  She slipped and slid up the walkway to the gate. Frozen shut. She hammered on it with the flashlight, breaking off long chunks of ice covering the bars, and danced out of the way as they fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

  Mattie raised the latch and jerked it open. The house was dark, just like all the others. She walked past the rock garden, now a shimmering ice sea, the rocks standing tall among it, looking like icebergs.

  She reached the front door and rang the bell. Nothing. "Of course not, no electricity." She peered through the etched glass of the door, but could see nothing.

  Mattie knocked. Waited. Knocked again.

  She could break the glass, but it would leave the front door exposed. It would be better to find a window on the side or the back. Retracing her steps, she went around to the driveway and followed the path to the backyard.

  A wooden slat fence about six feet high, with a gate, stood in her way. She stood on tiptoe to see over it. Several windows were visible just over the fence.

  There was no lock on the fence, so she tapped at it to break off the ice, and it opened. She closed it behind her and turned on the flashlight. Here, between the fence and the house, the moonlight didn't reach. She played the light over the windows and went to the first one. It looked into the living room.

  Mattie pried off the screen with her fingers and then swung the heavy metal flashlight. The glass shattered and she hurriedly picked the glass out of the way, flicked open the latch and raised the window.

  She bent down and crawled through.

  "Tsang!" she called out.

  Silence.

  Her heart nearly froze and, for the first time in a long time, Mattie felt fear's fingers claw its way down her spine. Now, she shivered.

  Gods, if he were dead…

  Her spit dried in her mouth, but she swallowed and moved toward the kitchen. Best if she did the search methodically, not dashing around willy-nilly. The kitchen was empty. So was the dining room.

  She faced the hall and tried to remember which door was his bedroom. She'd been upside down the first and last time she'd been here. He'd marched her down the corridor to the end, she remembered.

  Just to be sure, she opened each door she passed and called his name, but still nothing.

  Mattie stood in front of the last door and prayed to the old gods. The gods who protected foolish, pigheaded, stubborn little dragons like her. If he wasn't in the house, she had no idea where he would be. Was he even in town? Had she broken into his house for nothing?

  No. She knew he was here. She felt it. They were connected somehow.

  She took a breath and opened the door.

  The light bounced around the room and landed on the bed.

  Chapter Ten

  The bed was empty.

  Or was it? She took a few steps in and squinted at the rumpled covers. Her breath came out in a pale fog, crossing the beam of light as she advanced farther into the room.

  "Tsang?" She cleared her throat and tried again. "Tsang? It's me, Mattie."

  The lump under the covers didn't move or respond.

  Oh gods. She was too late.

  Her stomach dropped and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up or crying out…she wasn't sure which. Unable to stand another second of not knowing, she rushed forward, fell on her knees, and pulled back the covers.

  Tsang lay curled in a fetal position, his long hair covering his face. His lips were blue and he was naked. She touched his shoulder. "Tsang."

  He didn't move or speak. She pushed back a long tress of black silken hair from his head, placed two of her fingers on his throat and searched for a pulse.

  Mattie held her breath.

  Nothing.

  Wait…there…a beat. A long pause, then another beat.

  Relief washed over her and tears blurred her vision. He was alive, but barely. How slow would his heart beat before it stopped? How much cold could he stand?

  She stood, pulled the covers back over him, and tore out of the bedroom. She flung open the doors to rooms, gathering whatever quilts, covers, or blankets she could find, then returned, her arms full, barely able to see over them all.

  Mattie dropped them on the floor and started to add them, one by one, on top of Tsang. He needed warmth and fast. When she'd placed the last one, she checked on him again, flashing the light over his face.

  His lips weren't as blue. She checked his pulse again. Better.

  But it wasn't enough, and she knew that. His body didn't have enough heat left in it to generate an insulating layer. He needed real heat. Real body heat.

  Mattie started stripping off her clothes. She sat on the bed and pulled off her boots, then wiggled down her jeans. Naked, she went to a dresser and found a pair of thick socks. Back at the bed, she pushed back the covers, found his feet, two blocks of ice, and slipped on the socks.

  He must have been asleep when the power went off, then been too groggy to do anything about the cold, not even dress.

  Once the socks were on, she tucked the covers under the mattress to hold in the heat and then went around to the far side of the bed and got in.

  Mattie slid across to Tsang, wrapped her arms around him, her chest to his back, and held him. Her nipples, already peaked from the cool air, went rock hard as his icy skin touched her, but she winced and didn't give ground.

  "I'm here, Tsang. It's Mattie and I've got you," she whispered. Then she kissed the nape of his neck.

  She stroked him from shoulder to flank over and over, each pass of her hand leaving his skin warmer, if only by a little. Outside, the sun was up, trying to burn its way through the gray clouds, and she could see a little better.

  Tsang moved. His chest rose and fell with a breath. She changed from stroking to rubbing down his arm, his side, over his hip to his leg as far as she could reach without separating her body from his.

  So the gods had listened and taken pity on her after all. She thanked them and went back to work, until she grew so tired she could barely keep her arm moving. The heat building up was getting to her.

  Mattie threw back the blankets and exposed her back to the cool air for just a moment, then covered up. It would be enough to keep her body temperature regulated and not get overheated. She wouldn't do him any good if she succumbed to the heat.

  Wouldn't that be irony?

  Wouldn't that be just like Loki to play a trick like that on her?

  Give her what she wanted, then snatch it away using her own weakness.

  Not this time. She was winning this time. She would have her fire dragon.

  Mattie started the rubdown again, this time working slower and conserving energy. She'd be smart about it, not pigheaded. But still stubborn.

  Stubborn was good.

  ∙•∙

  Tsang struggled to clear his head of the stupor. Had he heard his name called? Somewhere in the distance?

  He wasn't as
cold as before—behind him, warmth spread across his back. He felt pressure on his arm, leg, and side, steady and comforting. He swam in the dark, as if his legs were bound, his long body and tail undulating, with only sheer determination pushing him to the surface.

  "Tsang, it's me."

  Mattie's voice? How could that be? Perhaps this was the afterlife, whatever that was. He didn't really believe in it, but he'd been wrong before.

  He sighed. If he could hear her voice again, he'd die happy.

  "Tsang, I won't leave you."

  By all the ancestors, this was the end. They'd answered his prayers at last.

  The rubbing along his body sparked heat, and he rolled closer to shore on the crest of a wave, breaking the surface and gasping for air.

  Someone touched him.

  Tsang blinked, sighed, and leaned back into the embrace. Now if this were the afterlife, he'd gladly stay here.

  "Come on, Tsang. Wake up," Mattie's soft voice demanded.

  "Shhh, I'm in the afterlife."

  "Not yet you aren't, not if I have anything to do with it." She sounded mad now.

  A sharp pain burst on his ass. "Ow!" Were there pinches in the afterlife? If so, who was doing it? Why?

  "Tsang! Wake up!"

  He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked up into Mattie's face. "Mattie? What?"

  She grinned at him as she moved her hands over his body. "About time. I've spent most of the day rubbing you and warming you up." She fell back against the pillows of his bed.

  His bed?

  "What are you doing here?" He looked around at his room, then over at Mattie. She lay behind him, her warm body so close to his, with not even air between them.

  "An ice storm hit and knocked the power out last night."

  "That explains the cold. I woke up and I was so very cold. I couldn't get out of bed. I'd fallen into torpor." He exhaled and caught her hand, stilling it, and entwining his fingers with hers. "How did you—"

  "Know to come? Tsang, I'm sorry. It's just that when I left my home all those years ago, I was running from who and what I was. Then I found you, and you were exactly what I wanted. I was so happy. But when we were making love, I saw your eyes."

  Tsang scrunched his eyes closed and turned his head away. "I'm sorry. I must have frightened you. I must explain everything." He pulled away from the warmth of her and the loss sucked the air from his chest.

  "Let me see if I've got it all figured out." Mattie pulled him tighter to her, refusing his escape. "You're a dragon. A Chinese fire dragon. You came here from China, who knows when, and you've been living here, hiding out."

  "Correct." He didn't hide the awe in his voice. "And you're not scared of me? Frightened? Freaked out, as they say?"

  Mattie laughed. "Oh, Tsang, you don't know the half of it. It scared the shit out of me, but not for the reasons you're thinking."

  "No?" Tsang's brow furrowed.

  "No." She pulled him over flat on his back. "When I was younger and more pigheaded, I swore I'd never mate with another dragon. That wasn't the life I wanted. I wanted to be normal. Human." She laughed. "And I was doing a damn fine job of it until I saw you sitting on that bench, sunning yourself."

  "You knew then?" Had he been that obvious?

  "No, not until I saw your eyes…the flame in them. I knew then."

  "So, you said when you were younger?"

  "Yes. And pigheaded. Don't forget that one." She giggled as she nuzzled his neck. He twisted to the side to give her more room as she licked a path from his shoulder to his ear. He shuddered at the heat that small touch evoked.

  "And now? You are older and no longer pigheaded?" He gasped as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

  "That's right." She nipped him, and he moaned.

  Tsang's body heated, from his head to his toes and all points in between. He rubbed his foot against his leg. "Socks?"

  "Your feet were like ice blocks." She shrugged. "I added all the blankets I could find, and then crawled in with you. I've been warming you up." She looked very pleased with herself. "I saved you."

  "So you did." Mattie was certainly remarkable. "Wait! You said you'd never mate with a dragon?"

  "I wondered how long it would take for you to get back to that." She kissed his shoulder.

  "I was preoccupied." Tsang touched her face. She smiled down at him, then trailed kisses down his chest, pausing to lick and nip at his nipples. "Yesss, that's so good."

  "Mm-hmm." She laved over to his other nipple and captured it.

  He arched into her, his hands holding her shoulders. She shifted, and in one swift move, straddled him at the waist. He ran his hands down to hold her waist as she bent over him, her blonde hair a curtain falling over them.

  "Mattie, are you a—"

  "Dragon? Yes. A Norwegian ice dragon." She winked one crystal blue eye at him.

  "I must thank the ancestors," Tsang muttered.

  Mattie reached behind her, cupped his balls, and his cock stiffened. Tsang moaned, but it felt so damn good being touched by her. She wiggled back until his shaft nestled in the crack of her ass.

  "Mattie, I'm not sure I can…" His body was still sluggish and waking up, though with winter full on, he'd never be at normal speed.

  "You don't need to do anything. I'll do all the work." And with that, Mattie dove under the covers, twisted around and wrapped her hand around the shaft. When her lips kissed the tip of his cock, Tsang cried out with the sheer pleasure of it.

  When she took him in her mouth, its warm, wet, and marvelous suction surrounding his flesh, he arched off the bed.

  She popped off and told him, "Just lie back and enjoy the ride."

  Chapter Eleven

  No matter what Tsang said, his body definitely responded to her attentions. His cock, fully erect, waved in the air, begging for her mouth again. She obliged and worked it, licking up its length, nipping at the sensitive fold of flesh under the head, and then swallowing it down to the root, only to pull back up with as much suction as possible.

  Tsang moaned, and it filled Mattie with pleasure and pride. She could make him writhe in ecstasy and cry out her name, and she planned on doing it all. Even now, she gauged his body temperature to see if he'd warmed up any more and he had.

  "Mattie," Tsang's voice sang a warning.

  She pulled off him, then licked his sac, sucking each ball into her mouth and running her tongue over one, then the other. He was more than ready and she wanted him inside her before he came.

  She moved around, threw her leg over him and settled against his groin.

  ∙•∙

  "What are you doing?" he asked, gulping and blinking at her.

  "Going for a ride on my dragon." She laughed.

  She had such a wicked, sexy laugh, his Mattie did. His Mattie. All his. And he was all hers.

  "I am yours, Mattie." He wanted her to know that, to be sure of him. "I've waited my whole life for you."

  "And I'm yours." She gave him a rueful smile.

  "You're not happy?" The thought of her not happy to be his stabbed at him.

  "Delighted. Just…well, it's the damn irony of it all. I ran from one dragon straight into the arms of another." She shook her head as she stroked his cock. Mattie rose up on her knees and positioned herself over him, then lowered down.

  Tsang, about to speak, groaned, his fingers tangling in the covers as she slid down his shaft. Heat and silken wet covered him, and that incredible tightness of her tunnel.

  "Gods, you feel so good inside me. How you fill me completely." She closed her eyes and a look of bliss came over her face. It was all he could do to keep from thrusting up into her. Instead, he steadied her with his hands on her hips.

  "Ride me, Mattie." With that, his resolve broke and he thrust his hips up, spearing her with his cock.

  She rode him like he'd never been ridden, her full breasts bouncing up and down as she fucked herself on his shaft, slowing, then letting him slip almost completely out of her, then
she'd slam back down on him, and he'd cry out her name.

  She leaned over him. "I want you to know my true name, Tsang."

  Tsang focused on her face. This was important, maybe more important than their lovemaking. A dragon only gave his true name to his mate.

  "I want to know your name, Mattie."

  "Wintertail." She smiled, eyebrows raised as she waited for him it repeat it.

  "Wintertail. It's perfect. You're perfect." He pulled her down to kiss her, and she opened for him, letting him slip his tongue in and claim her mouth.

  When they came up for air, he smiled. "Flamespeaker." It had been centuries since he'd told that name to anyone, human or dragon, and it amazed him it had been so easy to tell her.

  "Flamespeaker," she whispered. "Perfect."

  "Wintertail, you're mine."

  "Yes, Flamespeaker, I'm yours and you are mine. I give up." She laughed and kissed his nose.

  He laughed, too, and flipped her over, feeling a surge of strength and passion for his mate. He surged into her, rising up on his arms to give himself more power.

  "Yes, fuck me hard." She moaned. "Make me come on your cock."

  When she talked like that, it made him wild. She had to know that. He snapped his hips, each time going deeper until he felt the end of her tight channel. He bumped against it, and reached between them to finger her clit.

  "Oh, Tsang," she cried out. "Don't stop. Please."

  "Come for me, my love," Tsang urged her. "I want to feel your pussy clench me when you come."

  ∙•∙

  Mattie had never felt as alive as when Tsang fucked her. Did he just talk dirty to her? She smiled and looked up into his face. Determination. She knew he'd do whatever it took to get her there. With him, she was safe to let go, to give in to the pleasure.

  Her body tingled, nerves shooting, sending jolts of pleasure through her, even to the ends of her hair. Her skin felt as if it were on fire, and everywhere they touched burned deliciously.

  His finger pressed, rubbed, glided, stroked her clit, and she began the rise, her body tightening, straining for release, soaring up into the air, so close to exploding.

  "So close," she whimpered as she met each of his thrusts.