Pulling on the non-stop flow of energy from the mantle, Ry clothed all of them in a simple loincloth of black silk with a thought. “I’m here, Varyk.”
The King of the Green took a step toward him and Mikal blocked Ry’s view with a simple shift in front of him. Layne tensed, his hands fisting at his sides.
Ry exhaled softly, knowing this was the response his men would take based on the threatening message Varyk sent. It was understandable that he’d be in a rage over the attack on his twin. All of the sects were in arms over the senseless killings. Milana’s mate refused to let her out of his sight until they captured whoever did this.
“Stand clear,” Ry muttered in an undertone that didn’t travel further than his men.
Mikal hesitated for a split second before clearing the way. Layne didn’t relax his stance but his snarls ceased. Varyk’s lips twisted as he bypassed Ry’s guards. The two of them walked further away, leaving behind the four Green Varyk had flown with.
“You cannot tell me these attacks are random. I’ve been hit the hardest. My liras deliberately targeted,” Varyk snapped as soon as they were out of hearing of the others.
“You know I have no quarrel with you, Varyk. Why would I send a Black to do this?”
Varyk’s eyes narrowed and a steady stream of smoke leaked from both nostrils. “My land borders yours. Sarkin often challenged me by crossing the set boundaries.”
“I’m not Sarkin.”
And that was the crux of the animosity Varyk constantly exhibited toward the Black. It didn’t matter that Ry had ruled with stern order and discipline over the last decade. Simple border battles rarely occurred any more once Ry began punishing the offenders.
King Sarkin may have turned a blind eye to those things, considering them petty squabbles, but Ry had dealt with each of his men in a manner they couldn’t miss. He wouldn’t countenance pointless attacks and false shows of bravados by letting his Dracol fight other sects.
“Why should I believe you?” Varyk’s dismissive question had Ry’s claws popping free.
The Green King smirked at the sign of Ry’s loss of control.
“You don’t have to believe me, Varyk.” Ry curled his fingers and his claws retracted into the finger slits. “But stay out of my way.”
Ry leaned forward and lowered his voice further. The mantle added potency to his words as he allowed his essence to rise. With the full throttle of the Dracol echoing in his voice, Ry declared, “If I find that you impede the search for the one responsible for these killings because you are blinded by past wrongs—I. Will. Destroy. You.”
Varyk’s gaze flickered. His second lids dropped, blending the man and his Dracol. “You would threaten me? In the midst of a peace talk?”
“Peace talk?” Ry snorted, unable to keep his Dracol from his tone. The deep hiss and rasp stirred his need to fight, to battle, as was his nature when another trespassed against him. “You sent a demand to meet.”
Any other time, Ry would have ignored the missive, but with all of the upheaval and murders, he couldn’t afford to appear unconcerned.
Varyk’s shoulders dropped and he shoved a hand through the loose green hair flowing about his shoulders. “Milana jumps at shadows in our home. Our home, where she should feel safe!”
Sympathy displaced some of Ry’s anger. One glance at Varyk’s face revealed the pain in his confession. It was no secret the rare twins born of one shell loved one another deeply.
“You have my vow. I did not order an attack on liras. Not Milana nor the others. I have no gripe with the Green. If one of mine is behind the slaughters, I will mete out appropriate justice. Do you give me the same?” Ry held Varyk’s stare until the man inhaled and backed up.
“Your vow is meaningless to me, Black Dracol. Stay far from Green territory whilst you solve this.” Varyk ported across the short space, placing them chest to chest. Venom dripped from his words. “You best find him before I do.”
Varyk turned on his heel, raising his left arm at his men. Between one step and the next, Varyk took on his Dracol form. The huge green raptor wasted no time launching into the air. Seconds later, three Green followed suit.
Ry waited until he could no longer see their wings in the distance with his raptor vision. Mikal and Layne approached.
The ends of Layne’s red hair flew across his face. He caught the strands in his fist and held them back. “Did King Varyk have any news to report?”
“No. Just more attempts to point fingers at this being an attempt of the Black going after him. I think I managed to convince him of my innocence.”
Mikal rolled his eyes. “And he believed you?”
Funny enough, Ry felt like Varyk did.
Chapter 17
Someone had indeed dropped off her clothes and belongings. After taking a much needed shower in a bathroom big enough for an entire basketball team, Dara dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a ribbed long sleeve top in red. Most of her tops were long sleeve, since the clime on Vovin was cooler than Earth and they didn’t have changing seasons.
She ran her hands through her hair with a bit of product to control the curl but didn’t spend a lot of time trying to tame the wild mess. She admired herself in the stand up mirror and wondered what her mother would think if she could see her. The thought caused a pang in her heart.
This was the longest she’d ever gone without contact with her mom. Dara turned away from her image and debated asking Rylin for use of Vovin’s communication system. The expense of a special face to face call would cost more than Dara could afford since she didn’t have her own established link-phone but surely Rylin and his people had one. She’d ask him when he returned.
Rylin had been very specific about her waiting and not wandering around on her own. That didn’t stop Dara from stepping outside the door of his suite of rooms.
Conversation in the hall drifted to her. Most of it pertained to the death of the woman, Shara, and other names she didn’t recognize. Dara bit her lower lip as doubts crept in. It had taken the first ten minutes of standing beneath the stinging hot spray of the shower to stop her mental back and forth.
“Avi says the body was mutilated,” one of the men muttered.
“Savaged. We have to keep a closer eye on our females.”
“Dara Fletcher?”
The men dispersed when a younger man approached, striding down the long hallway and distracting Dara. “Yes?”
His tan cheeks pinkened when she faced him. Brown hair fell about a narrow face with thin braids intermixed. He wore black leathers and a black tee shirt made of stretchy material. His eyes swept over her from head to toe and if possible, his face got redder. “I’m Olivan. King Rylin asked me to shadow you until his return. I can show you around the grounds if you like.”
Holding back an amused grin at his awkward appraisal, Dara nodded. “I’d love that. Thanks.”
One final check in the room and Dara followed him. He led her into the outer hall and past several opened doors, down a winding stair case into a large open space foyer. The ceilings of the castle soared high above their heads and small rainbows landed throughout the tiled floor from the wall-to-wall glass windows.
“It’s really bright,” she noted, her steps slowing as she took her first real look at the inside of Rylin’s castle. Spacious came to mind, and empty. There had been people everywhere on her previous visit and yesterday. Today it echoed with an unexpected quiet.
Olivan offered her a smile over his shoulder and continued toward the front door. “Dracol don’t like to be boxed in.”
“I bet,” Dara mumbled under her breath.
Outside Dara received another reminder why she’d selected Vovin. The vast country side laid out before her awed with its simple beauty. There were green lands and soaring mountains for as far as the eye could see. Trees towered high in a field to her right, and Dara could make out the blue of at least three lakes to her left where a steep cliff dropped off.
“Do you want to wa
lk around?” Olivan asked, shoving the tips of his fingers into the front pocket of his pants.
Dara faced him with a shrug. In between mating parties, she hadn’t strayed far. “Sure. I haven’t seen much of Vovin except for the tourist sections, and even that’s limited.”
“Dracol are private and protective of our territory lines.” Olivan picked his way down the path of a rocky incline and Dara kept pace with him. “We’re not fond of outsiders on our land.”
Keeping her eyes on the ground, Dara held her arms out for balance. Olivan didn’t seem to have any trouble as he made his way. “Well, I’m very much an outsider. I’m from Earth and part of the Singles Program.”
His shoulders stiffened and his foot slipped before he stopped and turned toward her. “The Singles Program sends women to other worlds looking for males.”
With his youthful features, Dara didn’t place him at more than eighteen, maybe twenty. But right now, with his gold eyes swirling and the lowered register in his voice, she was reminded that a deadly predator stood with her. Not sure if he meant to ask or make a statement, she replied, “Yes.”
He waited a beat then nodded. “I’ve heard of them.”
Dara snorted, humor winning out over her brief moment of fear. “Rylin explained to me about my fellow humans…Earth peers? I don’t think they made a good impression.”
Olivan cracked a smile. The curving of his lips took the dark haired youth from cute to handsome. His features were in the transition stage from boyhood to adulthood but his body already showed the signs of a muscular frame to come. He’d make some woman very happy if he continued at this rate.
“They didn’t make a good impression,” he agreed.
Dara glanced around. “So where exactly are we going?”
His tanned cheeks reddened. “I thought since the King wanted you to see things, I’d take you to the cliffs.”
Hearing Rylin referred to as King again caught her off-guard, then the rest of his words sunk in. Her heart skipped a beat and Dara swallowed. “Cliffs?”
His steps slowed until she was closer and he bumped her with his shoulder. “It’s fun. You’ll see.”
Then, without waiting to see if she’d follow, Olivan trotted down the rock-strewn path and disappeared beyond the trees.
“Alright-y.” Dara rubbed her hands together and jogged in the direction after him.
***
Fun. Rylin’s castle was built into the heart of a mountain side, and the surrounding area consisted of jagged peaks and edges that fell off into empty space. As evidence by the sheer rock surface she stood near with Olivan grinning like a loon beside her.
A crowd of people milled about the area with wooden benches amongst blankets on the ground. Men and women lounged about, smiles on their faces, and children tumbled and played. Occasionally growls or snarls broke out.
“You like?” Olivan’s smug tone broke into her thoughts.
But his humor didn’t hold Dara’s attention. It didn’t compare to the magnificent sight of dragons soaring past on enormous wingspans. The air filled with squawks and high pitched screeches that pierced her eardrums. As far as her eyes could see, Dracol dotted the sky in flight.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Willow left after her mating to join the Silver, but typically the celebration lasts for a full seven-day period.” Olivan frowned. “With the murder of the liras setting everyone on edge, King Rylin thought it best to continue the celebrations. Dracol don’t like to be restrained.”
“Huh.” The Dracol carried on the same as she imagined people would on Earth, if men were still into marriage and weddings were the big elaborate parties of the past.
There was food and drink covering several tables with more food piled in the baskets next to the families relaxing on the spread out blankets. She received a few odd looks but for the most part everyone stayed to themselves. Olivan told her funny stories as he introduced her to men and women both young and old.
She noticed he made a point to emphasize Rylin wanted her as his lira. Only one person did a double take. Olivan tried to steer them away but it didn’t work. The red-head woman who had invaded Rylin’s personal space approached, hips swaying. Her fitted pants and strapless top were enough to drive all eyes to her body. Dara admitted to a twinge of envy.
“I’m Sana.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nothing on Dara’s face showed her curiosity about this woman. She wouldn’t give her the pleasure.
Olivan grimaced, his efforts to move on obvious, but Dara didn’t budge. His hand grasped Dara’s wrist and tugged. “We’ll see you later, Sana.”
“He won’t really love you. There will never be children for a Dracol unwilling to let a female close.”
The whisper was low but Dara knew she was meant to hear. Narrowing her eyes, she whispered back, “That’s my concern, now isn’t it?”
Sana head jerked back as if she hadn’t expected Dara to respond. Thoughtful gold eyes took on a wary cast.
That’s right, witch. Meet your match. Dara did a mental fist pump for not using profanity. She allowed Olivan to drag her away, glorifying in her minor victory.
“She used to be with Rylin, right?” Dara asked as soon as they were far enough away.
Olivan stumbled. “Ah. They…Sana was his lira.”
Though she’d put two and two together prior to the acknowledgment, it hurt. More than she wanted it to. The woman was gorgeous. Dara massaged the ache in her chest. “And they’re not together anymore.”
“No!” came Olivan’s sharp retort, startling her. He once more pinkened. “Sana is lira to Mikal. They have a little one.”
Dara followed the direction he indicated and caught her breath. The little girl with bright red curls defined adorable. Her giggle trilled on the air as she chased a smaller little girl with black hair in pig tails.
“She’s pretty.” Gold eyes, red hair and slender arms and legs as she raced around. Mikal’s daughter, not Rylin’s.
“Van, who’s with you?”
Dara turned and froze at the man from the mating who had been with Breya. He walked toward them slow and steady, brown hair ruffling from his pace. Olivan tensed and side-stepped in a subtle manner, which placed him in front of Dara. She bit her bottom lip in amusement at having a teen watch over her.
“What do you want, Ranald?” Olivan may have appeared young, but nothing in the rumbling growl coming from his chest sounded youthful. The playful humor of earlier faded and he faced the man who drew to a halt beside them
“Is this the female our King favors over his own kind?” Amusement danced in the gold eyes as the dark haired man leaned to the side to see her.
Olivan adjusted his stance and snarled. “She’s no concern of yours.”
Not sure of the cause for the animosity, Dara reached up and squeezed Olivan’s shoulder. She moved from behind him and smiled. “Hi, I’m Dara.”
When she extended her hand, Ranald mirrored Rylin’s gesture from the day they met and kissed her knuckles. Olivan grumbled and shouldered Dara aside gently. Ranald only smiled, his handsome features bordering on beautiful, almost but not quite on Rylin’s level.
“Van is being protective.” Apparently this amused him to no end.
“Why?” Dara didn’t understand the vibes but at least the tension only seemed on Olivan’s part.
Ranald smirked. “Because our King has already lost one lira to another, perhaps.”
Olivan folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you need to follow Breya around?”
“Be careful, young one,” Ranald snapped, his face wiped clean of laughter.
This time Olivan’s lips ticked up in the corner. “Maybe you need to make sure no one steals your lira.” Olivan leaned forward. “Oh, wait, you already did that to King Konlan.”
Ranald’s arm lashed out and gripped Olivan by the shirt, but Olivan reached out and pushed Dara behind him. Her arms flailed before she fell to the ground. They’d drawn the at
tention of the others but she had no time for embarrassment as the two men shifted, their massive Dracol forms taking up space.
She scrambled backward crab style then stumbled to her feet. Glancing around frantically, Dara yelled, “Stop them!”
No one paid her any mind, all eyes on the two Blacks charging at one another. Ranald’s claws raked Olivan’s scaled side and Dara cried out. Olivan’s barbed tail coiled out with whip-like speed around the forelegs of Ranald, sending both colliding into a tree. The trunk split, branches and leaved splintering.
“To the sky!” A voice thundered.
Dara spun and recognized Layne, his long red hair up in a high ponytail. He pointed toward the edge of the cliff and puffs of smoke trailed from his nostrils. Ranald snapped at Olivan before racing to the edge and leaping into the air. Olivan followed, the ground trembling from the pounding steps.
Layne turned his back on them and glared at Dara. “What happened? What did you do?”
Heart in her throat, she squeaked, “Me?”
He stormed in her direction, gold eyes blazing. “Olivan’s not hotheaded and Ranald only gets worked up about Breya.”
Her temper flared. “Yeah, well, you might want to take that up with them.”
He growled low and rumbly, but Dara’s attention stayed on the fight taking place in the air above them. The only reason she could tell the Dracol apart was because Olivan was leaner, his smaller form tumbling beneath the fierce blows from Ranald.
She winced when Ranald’s jaws clamped on Olivan’s mid-section. “Please, can’t you do something?”
“Only a fool would get between two battling raptors.”
Dara scanned those present, looking for one man in particular. “Rylin, then? Where is he? Can someone find him?”
Surely as King, he could command his men not to fight. Layne folded his arms over his chest. “He will know. The mantle will warn if they’re in danger of serious injury.”
Dara gaped. Both of the dragons bore lacerations on their sides. From her position on the ground, blood ran in rivulets down their sides yet no one seemed to find this the least bit concerning.
Bound By Heat - Dragon Shifter Page 38
