The Dragon's Woman

by Alix Nichols

  “I know nothing about spaceships.”

  “Then how do you travel through space?”

  “I just vault.”

  Right. That was what he’d told her last time, too. And the time before that. He just vaulted. Whatever that meant.

  “Can you at least remember if you’re a Ra-dragon on Norbal, like you are now, or if you change to your Ra-human form? Do people call you Geru when you’re there?”

  He shook his head apologetically. “I don’t know what I look like, or what they call me on Norbal. My mind is too foggy.”

  With a ragged sigh, she snuggled to him and closed her eyes.

  He was still here, with her. He’d be here with her until he slipped out quietly sometime in the wee hours of the morning. There was no point asking him how he traveled, or something that worried Marye more and more. How he felt about Rhori’s angry advice to kill himself.

  Geru wouldn’t be able to describe how he felt. He wouldn’t recall who Rhori was. He didn’t even know his own name, for Aheya’s sake.

  5

  Ra-dragon loved falling asleep like this, sated and appeased with his mate in his arms even if for a short while.

  She sighed happily, and he pulled her closer, cradling her back against his chest and breathing her in. Would she invite him to bite her one day? He was beginning to doubt it. She seemed unaware of how much he craved it, of how much the act mattered to him.

  But he didn’t blame his mate for her reluctance to give him what he needed so desperately. How could he? It was natural for any living creature to not wish to be bitten. And every time he wanted to beg her, his lips would seal together. For some inexplicable reason he found himself physically incapable of uttering the words.

  She had to offer it herself freely without him asking.

  “You really don’t remember a thing about your life, do you?” she asked.

  “This is my life.”

  She twisted in his arms to look at him, which brought her backside flush against his loins. He grew hard again, hungry for the feel of her tight heat sheathing him. All he had to do was reach down, yank the hem of her garment up, and enter her.

  With an effort, he drew back, forbidding himself the urge.

  His mate cared for him, he knew that. She liked touching, petting, and pressing lips. But the joining of their bodies didn’t please her as much as it pleased him. Perhaps her tightness had something to do with it. Would her body change with time, allowing her to enjoy it better? After their first hatchling, perhaps?

  Turning around, she touched his cheek. “Tell me, what do you do by day? Why do you never come to me before nightfall?”

  He closed his eyes, straining to retrieve an image or a memory, but all he found was darkness.

  “I sleep by day?” He scrunched his face. “I suppose.”

  She puffed out a long, heavy breath.

  “My mate is upset.” Ra-dragon pressed her small hand to his lips and gave it a lick, her skin delicious and soft against his tongue. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  She opened her mouth to respond when the little device she referred to as her “commlet” made a sound from a table by the wall. She had explained to him how it worked, and he had tried his best to understand the mind-boggling mechanism behind it.

  “I must answer it.” His mate brushed her lips against his. “Be back in a moment.”

  She padded to the table and picked up the device.

  “Marye, It’s Etana. I have something for you. Two somethings, actually. Now, it might be nothing. But it might be gold.” The female in the commlet let out an excited little laugh. “I can’t decide which nugget to begin with.”

  His mate turned to him and mouthed, “Can you hear her?”

  Ra-dragon nodded. His acute senses allowed him to make out every word the woman said.

  “Good,” Marye mouthed again before speaking into the commlet. “Begin with the smaller one.”

  “When I started pulling out all the dragon myths, the archive curator—Dann—asked if it was in connection with the latest discovery on Sovyda. Turns out archeologists found a hidden chamber inside the Fresco Fortress, much older than the frescoes themselves.” The woman paused. “Guess what they call it?”

  “No idea.”

  “The Dragon Chamber,” the woman said triumphantly. “Inside, they found three unbelievable statues. One is a dragon, the second is a Ra, and the third is something in-between. LOR has sent an expert team to Sovyda. They just started digging, but they found something already.”

  “What?”

  “A dozen ouroboros pendants, some made from stone, others from metal.”

  “Ouroboros serpents are the most common Ra artifacts throughout Xereill,” his mate said. “We have at least a hundred of them in the shop, a few dating back to the Early Ra Era. How old do you think the Sovyda ones are?”

  “Older than that,” the woman said. “They are Proto-Ra. Apparently, that’s what archeologists decided to call the Dragon Chamber people.”

  His mate said nothing. She looked thoughtful as if she was mulling over of what she’d just heard.

  “And you know what else?” The woman’s voice burst with enthusiasm. “The Proto-Ra ouroboros serpents have wings. They aren’t serpents, Marye. They are dragons.”

  Mate glanced at him and mouthed, “Dragons.”

  He stared at her, trying to comprehend all that half-veiled information. Archeologists, whoever that might be, had found other dragons in a place called Sovyda. Where was that exactly? He couldn’t vault there since he hadn’t been there before and had no sense of where in the galaxy that was.

  Were the dragons represented by those statues like him, shifting between dragon and man? It sounded that way. But the woman had talked only about objects and statues, not about actual dragons.

  Were they still alive? Could he find them? Ask them questions? Was this his chance to finally pierce the thick fog in his mind? Or were those dragons long dead, a vestige from the past like the skeletons of extinct animals in the hallway outside his mate’s room?

  “The Origin Myth, Etana!” his mate clapped a hand to her forehead. “You know how the Ra descend from dragons and all. Could that be based on fact?”

  “Dann told me the LOR experts don’t want to jump to conclusions. Unless they unearth dragon bones, which they haven’t so far, they’ll maintain that the Origin Myth is a myth. And that the statues and ouroboroses they found are Proto-Ra art.”

  His mate humphed, chewing at her lip.

  “Speaking of myths,” the woman said, “here’s my second nugget. I found no witness accounts, but one of the stories in the Dragon Legends collection talks about a dragon shifter who was stuck in dragon form until his mate offered him a special gift.”

  “What gift?”

  “She let him bite her and drink her blood.” The woman chuckled. “Sounds barbaric, doesn’t it? Most dragon legends are.”

  His mate dropped the commlet onto her lap and stared at him, her gaze burning with a silent question. He stared back, unable to speak, and praying she’d see the answer in his eyes.

  A brief moment later, she lifted the device to her ear. “I—” She choked on her words and cleared her throat.

  “Are you all right?” the woman in the commlet asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” his mate breathed, her voice hoarse, barely recognizable. “Did she… the dragon’s woman… survive it?”

  “I hope so,” the woman said, laughing.

  “You hope?”

  “The legend ends with the dragon’s transformation into a male Ra. It doesn’t say what happened to the woman.”

  “I see.” She looked shaken.

  Was she scared? Was it all too much for her—the roughness of their mating, and now the suspicion he wanted to take even more from her? Was he too much for her? Was she going to send him away?

  “Please don’t fear me,” he pleaded. “I will not bite you—”

  She pressed her index f
inger to her lips and then spoke into the device, her voice clearer. “Thank you, Etana! What you told me was gold.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “Forgive me, but I have to go now. I’ll ping you tomorrow.”

  She pressed something on the device. Then, without looking at him, set the commlet on the table. He held his breath. Slowly, she turned toward him. Her expressive eyes were wide open, glittering with emotion. Her hand shook as it covered her mouth.

  He dropped to his knees. “Don’t send me away, my mate! I won’t bite you, won’t enter you, won’t even touch you anymore if that helps you feel safer.”

  She took a step toward him.

  “Just let me be near you,” he begged. “Let me keep coming to you.”

  She took another step.

  “Please,” he murmured.

  She knelt down by his side.

  His eyes were riveted to hers as he waited for the verdict.

  “Your bite… Could it kill me?” she asked.

  He shook his head vehemently.

  “How do you know?”

  “I… I just do.” He knit his eyebrows, frustrated at his inability to give her a more satisfactory reply.

  Tipping her head back, she pulled her long strands together and twisted them into a knot at her nape. “This is crazy.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  She undid a button at the neckline of her garment and tugged at the sleeve, baring her right shoulder. “I’m insane for doing this.”

  Was she…? Was she offering her neck for a bite?

  She scooted closer and tilted her head to the left. “Let’s do this.”

  But he needed to be sure. “Are you asking me to…?”

  “Yes. I’m asking you to bite me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Um… gently, please? If you can.”

  A deep, happy rumble began somewhere in his chest. His muscles tensed. His fangs lengthened and his vision clouded.

  “My mate,” he rasped, angling his head. “Thank you for this honor.”

  And then he sank his fangs into her sweet flesh, breaking her skin. He locked his mouth over the cut and plunged his fangs deeper and deeper until her blood rushed into his mouth, hot and luscious.

  She twitched once and then sat very still.

  He drank, sucking as the muscles in his throat worked. The pleasure was intense, but he didn’t take much from her—just a few mouthfuls. As intoxicating as her taste was, he instinctively knew when to stop, knew exactly how much of her essence he required. Whatever it was he required it for.

  When his fangs retracted, the Ra-dragon pulled them out and licked the bleeding punctures.

  Healing you.

  “Sorry, what?” His mate held her ear. “What did you say?”

  He lifted his head. “I did not speak.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “I thought I heard you say something. Never mind.”

  He licked the cuts some more. Before his eyes, the skin around them healed, repairing itself. In the next moment, the edges came together and sealed the holes.

  His mate felt the spot, her eyes bugging out. “The wound—it’s gone!”

  “Did I hurt you?” He searched her face.

  “Just for a second in the beginning.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you inject some kind of venom into me?”

  He squinted, unsure. “Maybe?”

  “The sensation when you drank was far from unpleasant.” She lifted her shoulder and contorted it to see the spot. “What about my skin? How did you do that?”

  “I wish I knew,” he mumbled, spreading his hands.

  He also wished he knew what was happening to him now. It felt as if his mate’s essence had seeped into his bloodstream and was spreading through his body. It made him a little drowsy.

  Was he turning? And if so, into what? The sensations so far were rather agreeable. Nothing like the throes of shifting to dragon.

  “Do you think you can heal my nearsightedness like that?” his mate asked, adjusting her garment and buttoning it up. “I’d love to read without spectacles.”

  “I can try.” He licked her eyes.

  She wiped them with the back of her hands, blinked several times, and picked up a book from her night table.

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  Marye put the open book down and skewed a smile. “Afraid not.”

  Marye. Ra-dragon rolled the name on his tongue.

  He’d heard others call her by that name. She’d asked him to use it, too. But to him it had seemed too alien. Wrong somehow. It didn’t describe her or their relationship. It didn’t mean anything to him.

  Yet, Marye was his mate’s given name. He remembered it now.

  How could I have forgotten that?

  She gasped. “Sweet Goddess, you’re changing!”

  He frowned, confused.

  “Your skin… your eyes…” She gripped his shoulders. “Geru! Geru, look at me!”

  Visions rushed into his mind—images, sounds, faces. Events. He squeezed his eyes shut and took his head in his hands. Warm arms wrapped around him, and a familiar, comforting voice whispered that he was going to be fine, that everything was going to be fine.

  Moments later, the fireworks in his head died down.

  Tentatively, Geru opened his eyes.

  He knew this room, spacious and messy with floor-to-ceiling shelves on every wall filled with books and antique odds and ends. He’d been here many times, especially in his childhood. This was the Atiz House. He was in Bookworm’s room.

  He was in Bookworm’s arms.

  “Marye?” He drew back. “What am I doing here? How did I get here?”

  She studied his face, her gaze both urgent and questioning, as if she was looking for a clue. Her dress… was a nightgown. He glanced out the window. The soft light that filled the room came from the moons and lamps—not from the sun.

  He was sitting on the floor of Marye’s room. At night.

  Geru’s eyes slid to his lap. Naked.

  Goddess help me.

  Panic rising in his throat, he trained his gaze on her face. “Did I try to…?”

  She said nothing, just stared at him.

  His mouth went dry. “Did I assault you?”

  Had he drunk himself to oblivion and acted on his indecent urges, his shameful lust for his best friend?

  Slowly, she shook her head. “You don’t remember, do you? What’s the last thing you remember?”

  He forced himself to focus. “Norbal. I was on Norbal, preparing my family’s relocation.”

  “How did you travel there? Did you book a seat on an intergalactic cruiser?”

  He gave her a blank stare.

  “Did you change to a dragon form and fly?” She frowned. “Except one cannot use wings in space without the air, right? And you still need to breathe, even as a dragon—”

  “Dragon? What dragon? What are you talking about?”

  She sat back and eyed him, sadness filling her gaze. “All right, tell me about Norbal, the last day you remember. What was it like?”

  “I spent the morning in business meetings and the afternoon with a real estate agent. In the evening, I went to the hotel bar. Had too much to drink.” He recalled lying in his bed, convulsing in pain, feeling like he was about to die. “I got sick. Very sick.”

  “And then?”

  “And then… I’m here in your room.” He swallowed. “In my birthday suit.”

  He looked around, trying to spot his clothes. Unless he’d come here naked. Had Etana’s death driven him insane?

  “Wait here.” Marye stood and rushed out the door.

  She returned a short time later with a set of man’s clothing and a pair of sandals. “These are Father’s roomiest things. I hope they’ll fit.”

  Turning his back to her, he got dressed.

  Marye didn’t seem upset with him or withdrawn or resentful. Did it mean he hadn’t wronged her? Did it mean his madness hadn’t made him pounce on his
friend? He needed to be sure.

  He turned around and peered at her. “Did I do anything untoward?”

  She looked down. “No.”

  “Please be honest, Marye. I need to know how bad it is. How crazy I’ve become since I got Etana and Areg killed.”

  “You didn’t get them killed.”

  Something fluttered in his belly. “What?”

  “They pulled through, Geru. They survived.”

  “How?”

  She chewed at her lip. “It’s best if I spare you the exact circumstances for the time being. And, please, don’t tell anyone they’re alive. Not even your parents, and especially not Voqras.”

  “No chance of that.” He smirked. “Seeing as I don’t believe it myself. You’re just trying to make me feel better, like you always do.”

  “Except I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important, would I?” Pursing her lips, she went to her night table and rummaged through its drawer.

  “Here.” She handed him a small vial. “Take a sip.”

  “What is it?”

  “A vaccine. If anyone gives you the truth serum before they question you, you won’t feel compelled to answer honestly.”

  He drank from the vial. “I need to go home, talk to my folks. They’re in danger. And then I must find a way to go back to Norbal.”

  “I know.” She looked defeated. “I understand.”

  On impulse, he took a step toward her and was about pull her into his arms, kiss her lovely face— He recoiled, appalled at his impulse.

  I’m a monster. A weak, mad, pathetic monster.

  Determination in his step, he rushed out of Marye’s room and from Atiz House. Just a day with his adoring parents, giggly teen sisters and toddler Benty, and then back to Norbal. Once he’d done his work and everyone was safe, he’d be free to remove the sorry mess that he was from the world of the living.

  Divine Aheya, make it so I don’t do any more harm until then.

  6

  While Voqras droned on about the winged demons, Lord Boggond studied the tiny crack he’d spotted yesterday on the marble flooring of his office.

  He didn’t need convincing, not anymore.