by Julia Mills
Looking down, the tingle of a toothy grin spread across his massive snout, egging a triumphant roar from the depths of his soul as the vitality, enchantment, and excitement of his kin filled the air.
Mating ceremonies were always cause for celebration, but the upcoming nuptials were nothing short of miraculous. His younger sister, Bethanee, had found the One made for her in the man known as Anton, the Prince and Heir Apparent of the Sapphire Dragon Clan. Not only was Tristan extremely happy for his one and only sister, but the joining of Bronze and Sapphire Dragons- two very powerful bloodlines - would make them one extremely formidable Clan, their Guard damn near unbeatable, and spread their land holdings from the Isle of Sky to Loch Ness and everything north of that line including all the ports and fishing trades.
Zeroing in on Bethanee, the platinum highlights of her light brown hair catching the sunlight as she sat alongside their mother, Karita, a stroke of inspiration crossed his mind forcing a grumbly chuckle to rise from his massive chest and smoke to billow from his muzzle. Dropping his left wing, he pointed his snout towards the ground and in a deep sweeping move, flew just a few feet over their heads.
“Two can play that game, Big Brother,” Bethanee’s laughter popped through his mind.
Jumping to her feet, little more than a blur as she sprinted across the garden, Tristan barked with laughter as from one heartbeat to the next his favorite person in the entire world changed from woman to Dragoness and took to the skies.
The race was on. They’d played this game since Bethanee’s first transformation nearly a hundred years earlier. Whoever made it to the top of Mt. Tom a'Choinich first would be declared the winner and have bragging rights, something Bethanee had ever enjoyed.
Pushing his long, powerful wings against the airstream, cutting through the sky as if he’d been shot from a cannon, Tristan lovingly goaded, “What’s the matter, Little Princess? Saving your energy for your mate?”
“You’re just jealous,” Bethanee teased, concentration and determination coloring her every word.
Faster and faster, neck-in-neck, two brilliantly bronze Dragons battled for supremacy, their need to arise the victor only overshadowed only by their adoration for one another. Rolling his enormous body over once, twice, three times, showing off for their kin below, Tristan called to Bethanee, “How about a wager?”
“I’m in!” She squealed with delight. “Anything you can do, I can do…LOOK OUT!”
Bethanee’s fear slashed through Tristan’s mind right on the heels of her shouted warning, but it was a split-second too late. The sheer mass of his colossal body combined with his break-neck speed made it impossible for him to stop.
Hurdled into an invisible fog of malevolent, treacherous, perfidious mysticism, it felt as if he was mired in a mass of thick, viscous, partially melted Jell-O with immense strength and razor-sharp intellect. Frenzied static, manic buzzing, agitated nips and snarls invaded his mind and attacked his scales, burrowing towards his soul, the overwhelming need to overtake and control him driving them, feeding their malicious desire, forcing them to mindlessly attempt to devour him.
White hot magic, the enchantment of the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul, seared through his veins and scorched the lining of his throat, propelling long blazing bolts of Dragon fire in every direction. Agonized howls cut through his mind. The scent of burning rubber assaulted his senses. Acrid smoke lay siege to his eyes. Tears blurred his vision. Then, with a mighty burst of ancient mysticism and brute force, the Dragon broke free.
Reversing directions, he called to his Brethren, his anger and apprehension growing with every second of unanswered silence. Blinking rapidly, his vision blessedly clearing, fire flew from his lips as rage-filled every fiber of his being.
A primordial evil, born of hate, deviance, and insatiable deprivation, the Obscured, a myth to most, was so destructive that not even the Fairy bastards who created it could control it. Visible only when harmed, the fiend, now an inky, oil corpus, was stripped with smoldering stripes from magical of a true Dragon King, Diarmuid, Tristan soul-partner.
Squealing in agony, the Obscured scrambled to solidify its grotesque form, regain its invisibility, and continue its attack. This beast, this malformation of utter depravity, was the horrific result of a collaboration between both Fairy courts, Seelie and Unseelie, an abomination born of a spell gone awry that stripped away the darkest, hungriest, most abhorrent parts of all the members of both courts.
For years, the Fairies held the Obscured deep underground, within an impenetrable iron room, allowing it to suck the lifeblood from the creepy crawlies, the Earth itself and the roots of decomposing plant life, thinking if they kept it weak, near starvation that they could control it. In desperate times, in the dead of winter when hibernation covered the world, the Fey were forced to sacrifice sacrificed their disabled, weak, ugly, and less magical kin to satiate the atrocity's ravenous hunger.
But it was never enough. The Fey were never more than half a step ahead of the creature’s dark desires. Then came the Wild Hunt.
Led by Odin, disguised as the God of the Wind, he rushed through the skies astride his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir. Raising his Gungnir, his three-pronged spear made of the Asgardian metal, Uru, his shouted commands rumbled through the air in the coldest, darkest, most ominous nights, calling to his warriors, ordering them to reap the harvest of blood, flesh and soul.
Leaves atop the trees rustled. The north winds howled, their frozen breath decimating everything in their path. The haunting war cry of the horde of undead huntsman immediately answered the short rapid staccato blast from Odin’s Hunting Horn, announcing their prey, the living, breathing beings of the Earth, were roused and seeking shelter.
Thundering hooves, those of the ebony stallions the huntsmen rode, shook the ground as the steeds breathed fire, their neighs so discordant that children clapped their hands over their ears and dove under their beds for cover. Hounds, black as night, with glowing red eyes and the blood of their last kill still dripping from their fangs, bayed at the moon as they caught scent of the life’s blood, the flesh, the very souls of their quarry.
Stopping short, hovering over the Fairy Mound, the malignant churning of the Obscured called to the Leader of the Wild Hunt, reached from its dark, dank depths, begging to be released. A sinister smile broke across Odin’s face as he lifted his Gungnir and shot icy flames at the ghastly creature. His victory cries echoed for miles as the Obscured burst through the frozen Earth, bathing everything in its path with wild, untamed, powerfully malformed magic…and now, on the most important day in the life of Tristan’s family and Clan, the fiend of old had come to destroy them all.
Fighting with every ounce of strength, every molecule of mysticism both he and Diarmuid possessed, Tristan battled the Obscured until he fell from the sky. Barely making it back to his human form before crashing to the Earth below, the Dragon flung the last remaining flames of his fire at the colossal mass of pure evil swirling and snarling overhead.
Falling to his knees, the icy fingers of death tearing at his flesh, gripping his spine, ripping the heart from his chest, Tristan breathed his last breath and closed his eyes, waiting for Death to steal what little life he had left, but nothing happened. In the blink of an eye, the Obscured was gone, the sun was shining, and Tristan was still alive.
Rolling onto his back, gulping at the air, he called to his sister, his mother, his father, his Brethren, but as before, only silence filled the bonds he shared with those he loved. Slowly, painfully climbing to his feet, embracing the powerful healing magic Diarmuid forced into every cell of his body, Tristan looked left and then right, forward and backward, up and then down, but as far as the eye could see, there was nothing. The Lair he’d grown up in, the land he’d explored, and most importantly – the Dragons, his people, his kin were simply, without question, gone.
“Are you in there? Have you gone doolally on us? Do Dragons go doolally?” Julian’s laughter yanked Tristan from
his memories.
Swiping at the single tear creeping down his cheek, the bronze Dragon turned towards the sound of the Panther’s voice, biting back his harsh retort when he saw Drákon, a new friend and valuable ally. Smiling and waving, the usual shit-eating grin on his face, and mischief dancing in his clear blue eyes, the Sea Dragon and Companion to one of the revered Daughters of Poseidon, snickered, “I hear a sexy little Fairy’s got y’all tied up in her short pants, Brother.”
Thinking about how Drákon and Una, a Daughter of Poseidon, had saved him from a demented band of Hades’ minions hell bent on sacrificing him and other Shifters, Tristan nodded and opened his mouth to speak but was cut-off as Julian laughed out loud, “Oh yeah, she’s got him by the short hairs all right. And would you believe that they’ve never said more than two words to each other.” Looking to Tristan, the Panther added, “Talk about Fate, you let your Dragon out after centuries of being locked away and boom, Fate sends Love to knock-knock-knock on the door of your heart.”
Julian’s comment mixed with what Drákon had just said and added to the ass-chewing he’d received from Gerri culminating in the biggest Aha moment of the bronze Dragon’s very long life. The light bulb of inspiration flashed with fury. Something inside him snapped. His heart beat with renewed purpose and Diarmuid roared his approval.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” he sighed under his breath before rounding the corner of his desk and heading for the door. Stopping beside the Sea Dragon, he grumbled, “I blame you and Una for this. I’m not mad, but remember, paybacks are a real bitch, Bucko.”
“Wait! What? Me?” Drákon sputtered. “What the hell did I do?”
Decision made, ignoring his friend’s questions, Tristan marched into the hall, made a left towards the elevator, and as he pushed the button, muttered to himself, “Time to see a Fairy about the date of a lifetime.”
Chapter Three
Sitting in the Main Street Garden across Main Street from the huge Dragon Tech in downtown Dallas, Felicity drank her honeysuckle tea while trying to focus on the Paranormal Matchmaker’s words. It was more than a little unnerving that the spitfire of a woman had appeared out of nowhere, barking orders, and talking about how the Flower Fairy could get the Dragon who made her wings tingle and her Fairy dust sparkle if she’d just get off her butt and make a move.
First of all, she doesn’t know me. Secondly, I do things in my own time and…*sigh*…well, she just might be right.
“Ya’ know what I’m never gonna understand?” Gerri asked, laying her hands atop the pad of paper she’d retrieved from her black leather briefcase and sliding her stylish black-rimmed glasses atop her head. “Why in the hell do y’all resist the call of your mate like it’s the plague? Do you think you can outrun it? Ignore it, and it’ll go away?” Leaning back in her chair with a loud harrumph, the Matchmaker went on with a scowl and a raised eyebrow. “Are you crazy kids tempting Fate, Destiny and the Universe? You know, the tremendous Forces that rose from the primordial ooze when the world was black and endless?”
Unsure what to say, or if the Matchmaker really even wanted an answer, Felicity was completely flabbergasted. Sitting perfectly still with the rim of her mug poised at her bottom lip, she could only star and wait. Thank the Goddess, Gerri didn’t notice and ranted on without missing a beat. “I mean, I love what I do. Seeing all the happy couples in the world and knowing I had something to do with getting them together is better than hundred-year-old Scotch or Cuban cigars, but sometimes I have to scratch my head. Y’all really are a crazy lot!”
Laughing along but not sure why, Felicity nearly jumped out of her chair and hugged her sister around the neck when Bitsy appeared out of thin air babbling about the cute barista who made the best chai latte she’d ever tasted. “His eyes are such a crystal blue, if I didn’t know better, I would swear he was one of ours…or maybe a Gypsy or a Witch.” Setting her drink on the table and pulling her chair closer to Felicity, the younger Fairy cooed as she sat down, “I gave him my number. I know you’re gonna tell me I’m crazy, but you know that I don’t care. Got to sow those wild oats while I still can.”
“See?” Gerri jumped into the conversation, scooting to the edge of her chair and slapping the flat of hand on the table top. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” She motioned with both hands and a confident shake of her head. “Bitsy’s got the right idea. Get yourself out there. Have some fun. As my old granny used to say, ‘You’ve gotta kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince’.”
Looking between the two women at the table like she was at a tennis match, Felicity listened in awe as Gerri and Bitsy went back and forth discussing all the things that were wrong with love in the modern day. Finally, when their boisterous conversation turned to sex, the Flower Fairy jumped in with both feet and changed the subject as quickly as she could.
“So, have you been a Matchmaker for long, Gerri?”
Snapping her attention to Felicity, her blue eyes turning a warm, swirling gold, Gerri leaned her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand and grinned, “Long before you were even a gleam in your daddy’s eye, Little Girl.”
Trying to maintain the Matchmaker’s stare as goosebumps covered her arms and the wings lying flat on her back ached with the need to tear through her blouse and whisk her away, Felicity summoned her courage, squared her shoulders and with a sassy retort, replied, “Is that so? Then that makes you just three days shy of being older than dirt.”
Throwing back her head and barking with laughter, Gerri emphatically praised, “Yes! There it is! That backbone, that spine, that spunk I knew you had buried somewhere deep inside your cute little curvy body.” Taking a sip of her quad-shot espresso, she went on, “Now, all we have to do is direct it at that grumbly, growly old Dragon and he’ll be putty in your hands.” Picking up her pen then immediately sliding her eyes back to Felicity, Gerri added, “And enough of that Mr. O’Doherty bullshit. Yeah, I heard,” she sighed with added eye roll. “Call him Tristan and say it like you mean it. These boys think they want a shrinking violet when what they need is a Venus Flytrap.”
Feeling empowered, Felicity hung on Gerri’s every word, answering every question in the same rapid-fire manner in which they were asked. The more they talked, the more excited the Fairy got and then like the proverbial wind stolen from her sails, the other shoe was dropped with a resounding thud as Gerri asked, “Do you like your sex rough and tumble or soft and sensual?”
Her cheeks heated to a five-alarm fire, her heart beat like a bass drum, and sweat trickled down her spine. And as if things weren’t bad enough, Bitsy giggled, “Yeah, spill, Fliss. How do you like your sex?”
“Shut. Up. Brat.” Felicity grumbled before turning to Gerri and politely asking, “Can we talk about that somewhere a little less,” she looked around at the multitude of people all seeming to be focused on her answer when in actuality they didn’t know Felicity was even there, “populated?”
“Hell no, we cannot,” the Matchmaker adamantly objected. “That’s another problem I face on damn near a daily basis – hang-ups about sex from the younger generations. You guys are a bunch of mamby-pamby wusses, whispering behind closed doors about what you like, don’t like, and how you want to be loved.” Slapping her hand on the table again, her voice rising with every syllable that flew from her lips, Gerri announced, “The sexual revolution is over. We won. Get on out of the damn shadows and live a little. I promise you’ll thank me for it.”
Closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands, Felicity cringed as Bitsy joined the charge with a whooping, “Hell yeah! Speak the truth, Sister. Sexual freedom is our Goddess given right.”
Popping out of her chair and slinking away under the guise of getting another cup of tea, Felicity quickly set her mug on the side counter of the Coffee Shack, looked over her shoulder to be sure Gerri and Bitsy were still ‘preaching’ to all who would listen then slipped behind the java joint and leaned against the wall. Taking slow, deep breaths, countin
g to ten before slowly exhaling, the Fairy had just gotten her pulse below a thousand beats per minute and the temperature of her cheeks under boiling when a smooth, rolling baritone murmured, “Just the woman I was looking for.”
Son of a bitch, can’t a Fairy catch a frikkin’ break around here?
Chapter Four
“Who? Me?” She squeaked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
Not the reception I was hoping for…
Powering on with Gerri and Julian’s words fueling his every action, Tristan reached for Felicity’s hand, still trying to be as suave as a centuries-old Dragon who hadn’t been on a date since a horse and buggy was the preferred mode of transportation, he smiled, “Yes, Felicity, you. I wanted to ask if you would do me the honor of having dinner with me this evening?”
The tremor in her voice matched the trembling of her hand as it took two attempts for her to push out the words, “Y-yes, M-Mr. O’D-Doherty, I would be honored.”
Leaning closer, forcing her to look into his eyes, Tristan whispered, “I don’t want you to be honored, I need you to be excited. And do call me Tristan.” Her instantaneous intake of breath and the way the Fairy’s heart skipped a beat, emboldened the Dragon, fed the attraction he’d been keeping at bay since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her and demanded he take just a little taste of her glistening pink lips.
One touch was all it took. Flashes of light burst behind his eyes. Fire filled his veins. Not only did his heart and soul recognize this Fairy as the one the Universe had made for him, but Diarmuid roared his recognition and acceptance of their Only True Mate. Unable to hold back, needing to own Felicity, possess her, never again be without her by his side, Tristan dropped her hand, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body tightly to his.
