To Enchant a Dragon: (THE MERMAID AND THE DRAGON) (Venys Needs Men)

by Amanda Milo

  My blink is long. What? My mind races as I try to consider what’s come out of my mouth. Crested Merlins aren’t the most social of dragonkind, which is to say I’m very poor at making conversation. You could say I have no skill whatsoever… evidenced by the fact that I’ve managed to offend my mate inside of our very first day together. Technically our first hour. Well done, Kalos.

  Adella’s gaze is beginning to heat up. If she were a she-dragon, I’d say she looked dangerous. “You intended to eat me, but you made me your mate instead?” Her hands slap down on her knees… or… where her knees should be if she weren’t half of an aquatic thing. “Undo it!”

  “I can’t,” I murmur, my snout nearing her face to get a better look at her. “Your eyes are really beautiful. Such color. So shiny...”

  Ah. Oh, dear. Now here is the look of unadulterated indignation that I expected earlier. “What is the matter with you?!” she screeches.

  I flinch. And I immediately make a note that it’s dangerous to anger my mate unless she develops a case of laryngitis. I’ve heard of a mermaid’s song; I didn’t know anything about their shrieks.

  Deafening.

  I tilt my hands until she slides into one of my palms. Then I tap the meat of my clawed hand carefully against my ear depression, hoping to stop the ringing. “I’m afraid I’m about to become quite fixated on your every lovely feature.” I would fixate on her lovely features anyway; even if she weren’t my mate, she is unaccountably lovely. “You see, I’m going into heat—soon,” I explain. “My heat will be drawn by the blood moon. All dragons suffer under its shine. And now that I have a mate, my instincts—”

  “You don’t have anything!” she refutes, her voice trembling. “I can’t live out of the water!” she manages to caterwaul.

  And basilisks-be-damned, but my ear depressions feel like they’re peeling. I stare down at her, absolutely stunned. This mermaid of mine has a scream that someone should have warned me of. It’s a horrific revelation. A cove of mermaids could take down a dragon if they knew their power.

  “Look at me!” she cries. “I can feel my skin drying, feel my scales get tighter and tighter. It hurts to be out of the water for too long. You have to take me back!”

  “Hurts?” My heart constricts. I raise one fingertip over her flashy scaled tail, hovering like I might pet her—but suddenly, I’m afraid to. The air currents as we soared… they felt amazing to me. I had no idea, none, that I was harming her. “What I’ve done… hurts you?”

  More tears spill down her cheeks, draining the precious salty fluid she can’t spare to lose. “Yes. Please—please let me go.”

  Carefully, I bring my thumb up to brush away her tears and try to stave the flow by holding my thumb in front of her eye socket.

  It doesn’t work.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice watery as she tries to pull back.

  “I’m trying to help you stop crying,” I tell her. “You can’t afford to spend your tears. Shhh, shhh.”

  She slaps my thumb away. “Stop shushing me! We’re too different. You need to take me back to the cove!”

  Feeling remorse settle like a lump in my gut, I close my hands over her once more.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you…” she starts chanting, and I realize for the first time that I am a monster, just as many creatures might believe every dragon to be.

  Because a male who knowingly breaks his mate’s heart can be nothing but a monster.

  She peers through my fingers, staring up at me gratefully. Damn me. Looking into Adella’s eyes, I know without a doubt that it will shatter her to be parted from her home and family for the rest of her days. And I hate that I can’t let her go back to the place she most wants to be in all of the worlds.

  Sorrowfully, I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, my little mate,” I tell her once more. “But I won’t ever let you go now that I have you. You see, I can’t live without you."

  I close my wings and dive off the side of the mountain.

  CHAPTER 3

  ADELLA

  He may think that he can’t live without me, but he’s going to have to give it a good dragon try. Because once he releases me into the sea, I’ll escape him. Dragons can swim, but mermaids can dive. I can wait out his shorter breath. I won’t be his air-dried pet forever like he seems to believe I need to be.

  But when the dragon stops, it doesn’t seem like we’ve flown far enough to be back at Mermaid Cove already.

  We’re not.

  We’re at a mountain ravine with a small river’s pool.

  A very small pool. “This is the smallest ravine I’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s because it’s a gully,” the dragon says with a surprisingly recognizable grimace. I wouldn’t have thought that giant lizards could be emotive. He proves his features are quite flexible when his scaly brows crease and his mantle crest rises in clear curiosity. “When could you have seen a ravine?”

  With his two horns that sprout on either side of his head, and his massive scaly jaws brimming with blade-sharp teeth, I should be terrified to be held in front of his face, but I’m not. His inquisitive eyes are the color of a glassy green sea, shimmering, vibrant, and in their depths, color-changing and vast and beautiful in a wild way.

  I stare up at him, bemused despite myself. “If you ever travel beyond the reef barrier, the sea world gets even bigger. There are more mountains—with ravines visible from the coast—if you venture beyond the coves and gulfs.”

  “You can climb over a coral reef?” he asks, like this is the height of wizardry.

  “We can swim right under them,” I explain, barely stifling a watery laugh.

  “Oh,” he says in wonder. He looks me up and down, spending extra time gazing at my not-so-glistening tail. The slight ridges on either side of his mouth pull low, like a frown. And suddenly, I know that’s exactly what he’s doing. These are his lips, I realize.

  My gaze follows his, and we both stare down at my tail.

  My appendage has turned a dry matte brown color, losing its wondrously glossy, reflective surface. “Right, you’d swim under, of course,” he says, nodding to himself. His great tail makes a horrible dry scuffing noise against the gully floor as he curls it around his feet. “Why are your scales turning… dull?” Carefully, he extends his hands and sets me in the gully’s water.

  Even though he does it carefully, slowly, I still gasp.

  Worriedly, his massive eyes—each one essentially the size of me—jump from my face back down to my lower half. “What ails?” he asks.

  Stifling a shiver, I explain, “The water is chillier than what I’m used to.” I’m not from the North Sea clan to enjoy this sort of briskness slapping my scales. I flap my tail’s fin, cutting through the liquid, feeling it flow oddly. I test it with my hand, bringing my finger up to taste it.

  My concerns are confirmed. “Dragon, this is—”

  “Kalos.” His eyes turn an impossibly golden yellow. I didn’t know dragon’s eyes changed colors. “Please call me Kalos, Adella.”

  Something flutters in my chest. I try to brush at it, and my movement draws his gaze to the seashells strapped on either side of my chest. “Kalos…” I try again. “This is freshwater.”

  His eyes—so pale they’re nearly lemon quartz now—sink to my darkening tail. “You need salt?”

  “I need to be in the sea,” I stress.

  He sounds conflicted. “We must settle somewhere where I can hunt.” He scans the gully, his wings popping higher behind him like black mountain peaks. “I need a considerable amount of food in a day.”

  He doesn’t say it, but there’s a special kind of game where I’m from. Hells, I am that game. And although I’d be hard pressed not to believe him that he won’t eat me—he could have swallowed me down by now, so many times over—thickening fear coats my stomach. “You can’t… you can’t eat my sisters.”

  He drags his great clawed hand down his long face. “I won’t.” He locks his gaze
to mine—gem-quality olivine green now. “I vow I’m done attempting to eat mermaids.”

  “And mermen,” I prompt.

  His eyes narrow to slits. “There are mermen?”

  I blink up at him, watching two clouds of smoke roll out of his suddenly flared nostrils. I gesture to my sickly browning tail. “Kalos? Saltwater?”

  At my use of his name, his features flash with something akin to fascination—but warmer, earthier. His eyes are warmer too: an instantaneous change to pure sunstone. “All right, my dear mate,” he says finally, his voice strangely rougher. Also strangely… genuine. “You have asked this of me, and this I will do. I will find you safe seawater.”

  His words are clearly meant to be reassuring. But I can’t fail to notice that he didn’t promise to take me home.

  CHAPTER 4

  KALOS

  I take my mate to a lagoon not far from her glorified seaside inlet—but a damned sight freer of mermen, and I make sure of it. While Adella rehydrates her scales (which turn from a dull muddy brown to a bright, burnished copper, beginning to flood with more and more colors the longer she soaks in saline) I leave her in the nearly coastal body of water and eat two unsuspecting mermen.

  Everyone was right. Merfolk are delicious.

  I’ve not been away from Adella for long, so when I return, I’m surprised to feel guilt tickling my stomach.

  At least I think it’s guilt. I suppose I didn’t take the time to fully cook the mermen. Yes, I analyze the sensation, and with some relief, I confirm that the tickling is coming from my insides in the visceral sense, not the emotional one; it’s very distinctly a hand or two trying to paw my innards for mercy. Whew. Definitely just the fishmen, and once my stomach acids go to work on them, they won’t bother me anymore.

  Hopping over a craggy beach-rock formation, I race for my mate. Bounding across the shallow water, loudly sending splashes every which way, I excitedly show Adella the sunfish that I caught for her. To my delight, my new mate has made quick work of collecting food for herself too—and more endearing, she’s kind and thoughtful enough to have made a pile of offerings for me. “Do you eat oysters?” she asks.

  “I never have,” I tell her. My tail curls up happily behind me, slapping the water as it wags in pleasure over this gesture Adella has made towards me. I stare at her fondly. “I’ve heard their insides can hold treasure! But they are too small, too difficult to pry open.”

  “I can open them for you,” she offers. “And they do sometimes hold treasure. But I’m afraid these here won’t go far to feed you,” she says sadly, gaze tracing my massive frame.

  “I’ll be fine,” I promise, feeling every bit of weight the mermen add to my belly. I drop to my haunches and try to dispel the slightly guilty tang that’s attempting to batter my senses. “I’m beyond pleased that you thought to feed me at all. Please show me how you harvest your oysters.”

  She does show me—and we collect two beautiful pearls, which she stores in her breast’s seashell cups, proving she offers the most glorious spot for safekeeping—and soon, she’s holding up an oyster for me to try opening with my claws. “You should be able to pry it open with your talons… yes! Like that.”

  I flame-broil (or nostril-steam) my oysters; she eats hers raw. She also prefers to eat her fish raw, and with two mermen still twitching in my belly, I can’t stand in judgement against anyone who chooses not to thoroughly heat the life out of their meal before partaking in it.

  Although the oyster meal has an enjoyable taste, it’s not long into the digestion process that I realize something is wrong. I don’t let it show, or at least I try not to show it, but I’m suddenly not feeling well. Certainly not feeling like myself.

  When my belly scales start to heat though, I comprehend that it isn’t the mermen or the oysters at all.

  I must be growing ill due to impending mate fever.

  And this is bad. Because although a pair of Crested Merlin dragons will delight in a mate fever’s grip for an entire moon...

  My mate is not a dragon. There will be no slaking of desire with her.

  In fact, I’ll be burning in my fever all alone.

  Rather than looking forward to a wild time of affection and an abundance of lovemaking with my female, I’m facing a hungering sickness that’s about to grow entirely worse.

  CHAPTER 5

  ADELLA

  A cracking rumble registers so low in my eardrums that I’m certain I’m hearing the earth split open—but after it stops, I look around, gasping… and only see my dragon.

  He’s perched high on a rock overlooking the reef barrier that forms the lagoon he’s placed me in, and his great horned head is cranked to the sky. As I watch, his jaws part, and another awful, terrifying, earth-shaking roar bursts from his throat.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I shout up at him, my hands clamped over my ears.

  His head snaps down, his eyes pinned right on me. His claws flex, causing little bits of rock to crumble off his ledge and tumble down into the water. His gaze is clear and direct. “I’m warning away other dragons. I’m telling them I have a mate now, and to steer clear of me. Of us,” he amends, his chest puffing ever so slightly.

  I bite my lip, lowering my hands. “How old are you?” I call.

  His shoulders drop and his neck twists—although it’s so long, his head barely moves from its position. He gazes at me as if he’s measuring the reason behind my inquiry before he answers. “Fifty-two avalanches of the Ember Pass.”

  I… don’t know for sure what age that is. But let’s say there is only one avalanche per season, in dragon years, this male is… young. Technically old enough to have hatched his own clutch of eggs and even tail-thwapped them out of the nest so he and his mate could replace them with a dozen more, but still, he seems sort of… young.

  “I’m not a fledgling,” he says stiffly, leading me to believe that he might be sensitive about his few years, and thus lack of seasons and, therefore, world experience.

  “I can see that,” I grant. “And spare a female her pride and let’s simply say I’m not a smolt anymore.” I’m a hundred and five king tides.

  “Smolt,” he murmurs, a little bit of smoke puffing up from between his scaly lips as he repeats the unfamiliar word. “A baby mermaid?”

  I smile. “Pretty much.”

  The end of his tail bounces into a curl and rolls free, then repeats the movement, like he’s pleased and relaxed. Then I’d swear his mouth parts pull up in a smile, tossing a happy-dragon look at me before he throws his head back and lets out another awful, ground-shaking bellow.

  “Would you STOP?” I holler.

  His horns tilt sharply; he’s twisted his neck and his head waggles rapidly back and forth, like his dragon’s ears are ringing. “Stop what?” he asks, sounding strained—as if I’m the one being vexing.

  “The roaring!”

  His snout drops straight down, leaving his horns straight up and his eyes staring level at me. “I have to keep you safe.”

  “No one could have missed your first roar. No dragon would dare take that kind of noise on. They certainly haven’t missed the rest of your bellowing—I’m willing to bet my life on it.”

  His neck frill tightens against his throat. “If you’re wrong, you are betting your life on it.”

  I stare up at him, widening my eyes. “Let’s take the chance.” Before you kill me with a heart attack, I don’t add.

  The dragon’s nostril shields suck back with his inhale and whip forward when he snorts his exhale. He turns his nose up a little loftily, his tail snapping in the air and his claws causing more rock to crumble free of the perch he’s claimed for himself as he shifts his dark-scaled body. If he keeps squeezing his jut of rock, it’s going to crack and crash onto the beach, but I’m sure with his wings up and half-flared like they are that he can catch himself before he falls far, and surely before he hits the sand.

  His crest flares and snaps back down, an ultra-rapid movement not unlike a
shrug as he finally agrees. “Very well. Let’s hope you’re right that the warning calls were enough.”

  Warning calls. Dear heavens.

  He glances down and easily dives off his rock perch.

  As he launches from it, it does indeed crack, the chunks tumbling down, killer boulders that slap and smack so deep in the sand they’re almost instantly buried by the impact.

  The dragon pays this no mind, easily wading through the water towards me.

  The seawater that he’s brought me to isn’t deep enough for me to fully submerge in, but it keeps the worst of the dryness away.

  Still… I’m miserable.

  The dragon tries to cheer me up. Once he’s reached my side, he raises his foot over my lap and opens his claws to reveal a gnarled, tubular branch of fulgurite.

  “Lightning glass,” I say in wonder.

  Sand is fused to the rock-hard bit of hollow glass, a naturally-occurring work of art when lightning bolts strike the beach.

  When I don’t immediately take hold of the gift he’s holding aloft, the dragon sets it on my lap and noses it towards my belly button.

  Before he can get there, the touch of the dragon’s snout over the hidden slit of my sex makes my tail fin flap.

  To cover my reaction, I sit up straighter in the water and take hold of the present he was thoughtful enough to bring me. “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies. He’s eyeing my position in the water—he’s eyeing the clear lack of water here. “You need a better place than this to make a home,” he comments, clearly unhappy to see me poorly matched to my environment.

  The fact that he notices my predicament and cares about my welfare is what’s been keeping me from shouting at him. I want to be returned home immediately. I need to be in the sea. But while at first I was afraid of my captor, now I’m reluctant to hurt this strange creature’s feelings.

  He’s a dragon, but so far… he’s been a good one. He believes I’m his mate for now, and I’m hoping that because he sees me as an equal and not a meal, that he’ll come to his senses and take me home very soon.