Nothing.
There was no guarantee she’d find another catshifter before dawn. She had to take what she could get. She walked the campsite looking for tracks in the dirt. She found several by the dented, old still, but they seemed to go in circles. Frowning, she took the tip of her knife and lightly tapped the metal side. It made a light tink-tink noise.
“Gar-umph-arr!”
Mede jumped in surprise as the Var flailed up from the ground like a wild man. His body shifted into a mangy dark brown cat, then back to dirty man, then to cat once more as if his body couldn’t decide which it wanted to be. He breathed heavily, intimidatingly lifting his arms out to the side.
“Not again, dragons. You’ll not take a piece of Owain!” Deciding to remain a shifted cat, the drunkard swung his arms violently, claws wielded. He turned in circles, as if a group of Draig surrounded him. Mede noticed the cat had several tufts of fur missing from various parts of his body. Apparently, she was not the first Dead Dragon nominee to find him in the forest. No wonder Rolant pointed her in this direction.
“I just need the fur, Owain,” Mede said.
“Get your own, dragon,” he slurred. “I know you’re after my gold.”
Mede looked at the still and then back at the catshifter in disbelief. She wasn’t sure what the gold was—the liquor or his matted coat.
“Try to knock it over again,” he challenged, the gruff words slurred.
Before she could answer, a female scream sounded through the trees. Mede stiffened, instantly shifting to sniff at the air. The liquor once again assaulted her. That’s when she realized it was also radiating from the ground. Apparently, the other dragons had knocked his still over on their visits. Okay, that was just mean. The still was probably all this pathetically drunk man had in the world.
“I knew it!” the catshifter screeched. He turned his claws toward her as if to point with all fingers.
The female screamed again, sounding terrified. Like the Draig, the Var’s genetics were affected by the blue sun’s radiation and they normally only had male children. As far as she knew, she was the only female shifter currently on planet. That meant the woman was most likely an alien. Mede thought of her human mother. There was no way she could defend herself from a shifter attack.
The decision instantly made, Mede ran from the campsite to help. The mangy cat yelled taunts at her back, celebrating his fierceness and bravery in scaring her away. “That’s right. Tell your dragons not to tussle with Owain!”
She ignored him, knowing he was too drunk to give chase. A new hunt was afoot. Three people ran in the forest. The sound of stumbling feet came from the same general direction of the screams, with two stronger gaits giving chase.
Mede couldn’t disguise her approach, so didn’t bother to try. She only hoped the pursuers would be so focused on the hunt that they wouldn’t hear her until it was too late. The scent of fear filled her nostrils. She was close.
It was not lost on her that she was alone on foreign soil, deep enough inside that the other dragons wouldn’t hear her call for help. No one would even think to look for her until well after dawn. She was on her own.
* * *
The thrill of the chase hammered in Attor’s blood, heightening the effects of the stout liquor he’d consumed before starting their games. The woman made a good show of being scared and he almost believed it real. He smelled her adrenaline pumping, heard her cries as Myrddin toyed with her. Though the Syog female had much physical strength, when it came to running in the darkened forest the catshifters could have overtaken her by now.
The smell of her was in his nose, fueling his ardor. He had yet to take the nef, not wanting to dull his senses too soon. All the stress he felt inside the palace, watching his father make a fool of himself, melted away. Myrddin knew him well enough to know Attor needed this release.
Everything was heightened. He felt the air moving in his lungs. The earth kissed his feet as he ran over it. Branches poked his hands as he grabbed them to swing over thick fallen logs. This is what a Var lived for. Hunting. Running. Freedom.
A sound caught his attention and he slowed before changing course. Someone joined their hunt. The fact irritated him and he turned to stop them. What better way to fuel his desires than with a fight?
Whoever it was came toward him at full speed. Within seconds they met as they both leaped through the air into an old campsite clearing. A Draig passed by him and he swung his claws in automatic defense. The move was not well aimed and it glanced off the dragon’s arm. The contact would do little damage against the armor of dragon skin.
He landed on the ground and spun to face his opponent. What was a Draig doing in his forest? The dragon mimicked his stance, facing him. Attor breathed deeply, anticipating the fight. No one would fault him for killing a Draig in the Var forest—that was if anyone discovered what he was about to do.
Something stopped Attor from attacking. The dragon smelled of liquor, but beneath that was sweetness.
Attor felt a shiver work over his body. “What are you? You do not stink like the Draig warriors. What was your mother? Are you a hybrid? What are you doing on my land?”
The Draig didn’t answer. A stream of light shone from above, revealing long hair. Attor sniffed again. Something about that smell caused his desires to stir, like when a woman was in heat.
A woman?
“You’re the dragon girl,” he exclaimed, lessening his challenging stance.
The Syog screamed, the sound coming fainter than before.
The dragon woman stiffened. “Release the female.”
“The female?” Attor laughed. Now that he knew he didn’t face a real threat, he relaxed. He let the shift fade from his features and he stood before her as a man, hoping she would do the same. He wanted to see the rare creature for himself. “Take off the dragon. Then we can have a civilized conversation.”
News of the female dragon’s birth had filtered its way to the palace when he was a child. He’d always been curious to meet her, but never thought the opportunity would arise. Attor liked rare things, liked collecting them. He thought of the black castle’s dungeons. Myrddin would let him keep the dragon woman there like a pet.
“Where are your wings? I thought female dragons could fly.” He looked her over. Yes, a fine pet.
She merely stared at him.
“Do you seek asylum here?” he asked. Her capture might be easy indeed. She’d walk right into her cage.
The Draig woman relaxed. The dark armor of her body rippled, turning from hard shell to supple flesh. The liquid gold in her eyes lessened to reveal grey beneath. Once the ridge pulled back into her face, her brow smoothed. Attor’s breath caught. He had not been expecting beauty, yet she was one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. That surprised him. The Draig were strong, but he didn’t expect he’d ever be attracted to one.
“Asylum?” She laughed at him. Her human voice was pretty, but tinged with a hint of mocking sarcasm.
Attor frowned, not liking the reaction. People laughed at his father, not him. “Then why are you here?”
She lifted her knife and touched a long, tapered finger to the tip of the curved blade. “Maybe I’ve come to skin a cat.” She pointed the blade at him. “And maybe you’re that cat.”
No woman had ever dared speak to him like that. He was a prince after all.
Even so, her boldness excited him. He would never be frightened of a female. Then, glancing around the forest, he realized she might not know who he was. “All these years no Var has claimed to see you. It’s speculated they keep you locked away performing strange Draig rituals. Is it true you lay eggs filled with power?”
The woman gave him an unpleasant look. “Is it true Var eat their young?”
It was his turn to express distaste. He grimaced. “Then you need help. That is why you are here.”
“Do I look like some damsel locked in a castle?” She stared at him, her grey eyes glinting with gold only to f
ade again.
“You have a toughness to you.” He lifted his hands as if taming a wild animal. “I’m not judging. I just wonder if there is also softness in you.”
“You have a softness to you, cat. How about we stop talking and you shift?” She wiggled the blade meaningfully.
He frowned, not liking that she called him soft. “It couldn’t have been easy being raised around men with no women like you to teach you gentler ways. A woman who looks like you can’t possibly be all hard. Put down the blade and stop trying to threaten me.”
She held her arms out to her sides, not dropping the knife but no longer pointing it at him. “Fine. Speak.”
The Syog made a strange noise. The woman instantly turned her blade back toward him.
“It is a game,” he said. “One she plays willingly.”
The dragon didn’t look as if she believed him.
“If no Var has knowingly laid eyes on you, I can assume you do not know the Var. We are not what your people make us out to be. I know there are centuries of discord, but we are not at war right now. You have no reason not to trust me. We have no reason to harm women.” He tilted his head, trying to listen to what was happening with the Syog. “Use your ears. Do you hear them?”
Slowly the woman nodded. “What are they doing?”
Attor grinned. It was clear to him the Syog had just been caught and Myrddin was in the throes of wild sex. Ah, so the dragon was kept innocent. This pleased him. Perhaps he would not lock her in a cage as a pet.
Attor was glad he hadn’t drunk the nef. The pleasure that welled inside him was fierce and strong. Already heightened by a chase, his cat begged him to play. His eyes roamed her human form with renewed interest as she concentrated on the noise. Hearing Myrddin and the alien woman only aroused his ardor more.
“They’re…” Attor let a smile curl his lips. A low, seductive laugh escaped him. “They are coupling.”
“Oh,” she answered, followed by a more surprised, “Oh! So they are married.”
Yes, innocent. It was so clear now.
“No. She’s visiting the palace,” he said.
“From space?” The woman frowned. “I heard your people like to invite aliens to the planet. Don’t you think it would be better if they just left us alone? Why make them so welcome as to run freely about the land?”
“They do leave you alone. They stay in Var territory. Besides, your people meet with aliens.”
“Only the Mining Ambassador for trade.”
“Your marriage ships,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, those, too.” She didn’t seem too enthused by the idea. “That part can’t be helped, but at least it’s only once a year. Though, I suppose you don’t have anything to do with the decision to allow aliens to land on Var territory. Everyone knows the king likes the company since his wife passed.”
“Explain yourself,” Attor said, stiffening at the mention of his father.
“Losing a mate can’t be easy. I’ve seen what happened to the elders who lost their wives. It’s sad.”
Attor relaxed by small degrees. She clearly didn’t know who he was.
When she wasn’t threatening his hide, the woman had a regal beauty worthy of royalty. She possessed those things that could not be taught—attitude, confidence, a noble bearing—all of which were evidence of a superior class. The fact that she was a shifter made her powerful. Her Draig heritage made her rare. No one on his planet, or in any of the known universes, possessed a dragonshifter wife. She was the only one of her kind alive. And, her innocence had yet to be claimed.
Why had he not considered her before? He’d just assumed her dragon blood would have made her mannish and permanently covered in scales. Such was not the case.
“And to only have one son?” she continued. “I am an only child because my mother is a descendent of a delicate people. I know how my parents wish it was different. They try to hide it, but I know. I imagine the Var prince must feel much the same. I am just glad I am not in line to rule a kingdom.”
Women didn’t need to rule kingdoms. That was not their role.
“The forest is no place for a maiden,” Attor said, feeling very protective of her. But it was more than that. He wanted her. And why should he not have her? He was heir to the Var throne. Someday he would rule half the planet—all of the planet if Myrddin had his way. He would need a queen worthy of being on his arm.
“I can take care of myself,” she answered.
Fierce and innocent and compassionate. It all made perfect sense. Fate surely had a hand in this night’s adventure. Their meeting was a sign of things to come. He would possess her. This woman would be his bride.
* * *
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mede asked the catshifter. It’s not like she’d revealed any great secrets. Everything she’d said about her family was common knowledge amongst her own people.
Curiosity got the better of her. She’d never spoken to a Var before, and this one seemed civilized in manners. The man was handsome, but so were most of the shifters she’d been around. His short blond hair had been recently trimmed, and he clearly had immaculate grooming habits. The stories she’d heard of the cats were of uneducated, dirty beasts with forked tongues and dark hearts roaming like feral beasts. There was a reason the Draig avoided coming into the southern marshlands that edged the borders. Geography lessons had taught her that not all Var territory was marsh, but she’d always had the impression that the good land belonged to the Draig.
“You’re staring at me,” she said when he didn’t answer. The man’s pants were tight and his shirt fitted against the muscles in his chest. She’d noticed cross-lacing up the back of his spine. The strings held the material together, while still allowing a peek of flesh along the man’s back. The Draig tended to wear looser pants and pullover tunic shirts that better accommodated the dragon shift.
“You are exquisite,” he answered simply. His eyes glowed. She recognized the fierceness in him. She carried it, too. “What is your name?”
That surprised her. “You don’t already know?”
Whoever this man was, he didn’t look at her like other men did. The Var didn’t have crystals, but relied on more primitive methods for finding a mate. It was a relief to meet a man who was not obsessed with her marriage. Normally, within two seconds they were checking their necklaces to see if they were the one, trying to not-so-sneakily get closer to her, as if that would help. A few had even tried to make her hold their stones as if her touch would activate them.
Several minutes had passed and not once had the catshifter mentioned the will of the gods and fated mates. This fact alone made her inclined not to slice off a piece of him for the Dead Dragon challenge just yet. She sighed. The hour crept closer to dawn and she still needed to make the run back.
“You’re not going to tell me?” the man laughed. “Fair enough. I won’t tell you who I am.”
The sounds of the distant love-play lessened. The catshifter had been moving forward very slowly as they talked. He probably thought she hadn’t noticed when in fact she’d watched his every move without looking directly at him. There was liquid grace in his movements, something the tougher Draig warriors lacked. Every gesture was like an invitation to dance.
“Will you at least tell me what you’re doing in our forest?” he inquired.
“I already did. I have to skin a cat.” She lifted the knife and swayed it back and forth.
“I am afraid I can’t allow that.”
“I am afraid I am not asking for your permission.” She liked that he challenged her. In many ways his attitude was a relief. “All I need is a tuft of fur and then I can go back. Failing in my task is not an option.”
The cat smiled. He lifted up his arm and let a partial shift overcome his flesh. Fur sprouted on skin. The light blond suited his coloring.
Mede didn’t need further invitation. She shaved a strip of hair off his arm with the knife, holding her hand beneath his arm to catch
the short fur. As she balled it into a fist she was about to thank him when the man surprised her by leaning forward to press his mouth to hers. She stiffened in shock at the bold move. He grabbed her head with one hand and pulled her tightly to his lips. She felt her knife meet flesh, though she hadn’t tried to cut him.
Men often bragged they would be her chosen mate, but never had they been so bold as to kiss her. He parted his warm lips, but she didn’t move to return the gesture. The feel of him was more shocking than unpleasant, though there was no mad rush inside her to return the kiss. When finally he released her, he whispered, “You have your token and I have mine.”
Mede swallowed nervously. The cat looked at his cut arm unconcerned. A thin trail of blood trickled over his forearm to his fingers. It might leave a scar, but it was not a serious injury.
“I will be seeing you very soon, little dragon.” His eyes lit as he backed away from her. “But for now you had better hurry home.”
Mede stumbled away from him as if he’d kicked her. The sensation of the kiss warmed her mouth, but she’d been too shocked by the suddenness of it to react. By all rights she should have done more than cut him. To her shame, even the small wound had been by accident. Instead, she’d frozen. A handsome man had kissed her and she’d frozen.
A small price to pay for getting what I came for.
The catshifter was right. It was late and she needed to run for the borders.
“That way.” He pointed toward Draig territory. “Keep straight. Avoid the still farmers. They soak in so many fumes they’re always drunk and erratic.”
Mede wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Who are you?” she wondered aloud, wanting to at least know the name of the man who’d first dared to kiss her.
“I’m the man you’ll be thinking about until we meet again,” he said confidently.
Mede opened her mouth to retort but the man leaped into the air, shifting before his hands found the aid of a branch to swing out of the tiny clearing. She heard his steps taking him away from her. Closing her lips, she looked down at her fur-filled hand. It was a good thing he’d left. She wasn’t sure what her retort would have actually been.
The Dragon's Queen (Dragon Lords) Page 3
