by Mary Auclair
The sound of a door opening pulled her from her reflection.
The Delradon clerk walked into the room. His pale skin was flushed and his nostrils were twitching on his long, straight nose. His eyes shone a pale amber, and his dull brown hair was chopped short in a clean, efficient cut, revealing two pointed ears. His unnerving pale eyes assessed her with a new appreciation.
Endora’s throat closed up. The moment of truth was coming.
“It looks like everything is in perfect order.” The clerk stopped in front of her, his long fingers tapping on the surface of a flat screen covered with the Delradons’ strange writing. Endora couldn’t decipher a word of it. “Your transport is ready.”
Endora blinked a few times. “I’m leaving now?” She gripped the straps of her leather bag like a lifeline. “I have to get back home. I haven’t brought anything with me. I—”
“Don’t worry about your personal possessions.” The clerk smiled and made a small gesture with his hand. “You will be provided with everything you need.”
Endora froze. She knew that look. It was a look of dismissal, like nothing she possessed was worth much. Just like her life, worth nothing more than a contract on a screen.
“My family…” She realized she was short of breath. “I can’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“I am sorry.” The clerk blinked, then had the courtesy to look embarrassed. “The protocol does not allow for your return to your previous residence once you accept the offer of mating. There are no exceptions, especially in this case.”
“Why especially this case?”
“Your match is Lord Aldric Darragon.” The clerk’s face shone with excitement. “The High Lord himself.”
The news hit Endora like a slap in the face. Lord Aldric Darragon was her match? The all-powerful High Lord of Katanie, the vast forested region that spanned from the ice caps of the North to the Saint-Laurence river.
“Lord Darragon… there must be some sort of mistake.”
“He has already sent very specific instructions for your travel.” The Delradon clerk looked unsettled, like he was afraid she would change her mind. He fidgeted with his flat screen, tapping on the surface with his fingers. “Your security is of the utmost importance.”
Yes, it would be. She was the living incubator in which a little Draekon would grow, and not just any little Draekon. No, the heir to the throne of Katanie.
It changed nothing. She wasn’t backing out now, no matter what.
“Okay.” Endora flipped her head up. “I will go, on one condition, and it’s not open to negotiation.”
The clerk’s eyes flashed and his lips pressed together. Endora guessed he was probably not used to being talked to like that, especially by humans. Despite that, he quickly nodded, just like she had supposed he would. He couldn’t afford to have her refuse to go, not now that Lord Darragon had sent instructions for her safe arrival.
Endora pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and scribbled a few sentences on it, then folded it. She didn’t bother asking for sealing wax. It was almost a certainty that the letter would be read.
“This needs to reach my family in Helbon.” She pushed the paper into the clerk’s hand. “Give this to my grandmother, Henriette Papineau, so she doesn’t wait for me. Please. I’m all she has left.”
The Delradon clerk’s expression softened and he slid the paper inside his vest. This was all the reassurance Endora was going to get.
Without pausing for fear that her resolve would melt, Endora bent and signed her name on the clerk’s screen. As soon as she had finished, the clerk snatched the screen away and slid it inside a fold of his vest. It was done. She had officially sold her body. A strange tightness clenched her throat and she had to force saliva down to swallow.
“The transport awaits you, Mrs. Papineau.” The clerk motioned for her to follow, then walked briskly toward the door.
After only an instant of hesitation, she followed him. Outside, the courtyard was covered in a good six inches of pure, heavy snow. All around the square were shops, their windows dark and unwelcoming. Everyone had stayed home because of the storm, even the Delradon. It felt like an omen, and Endora shivered violently.
In the middle of the square, over a large circle of melted snow exposing the cobblestones, hovered a gleaming black transport vehicle. Its windows were tinted black, so that whoever—or whatever—was inside could see without being seen. It was silently defying gravity; another tribute to the Delradon technology.
Endora paused, and the clerk sensed her hesitation. He turned, his face set in a reassuring smile, but she was sure that despite his friendly demeanor, he would use physical strength to force her inside if she refused to get in. She had sealed her fate, and there was no going back.
She took the first few steps outside, toward the transport. A shadow moved at the edge of her vision, and she stopped. A child, its small form incongruous in the raging storm, was moving in her direction. The child wore a long wool coat that hid its entire body from view, and a hood that completely covered its head. It moved in an easy, ethereal way in the deep snow, as though it were hovering instead of walking.
The child stopped in front of Endora and lifted its head. She could tell it was a Delradon girl from the unmistakable pale orange eyes that gleamed in the low light. Silently, the little girl reached for Endora’s hand and pulled her down. Too mesmerized to do anything else, Endora complied, her gaze fastened to that of the child.
What is she doing here?
The Delradon child was pretty in a dainty, fine way that gave her a slight kitten look, with eyes too big in her small face. She had a strange mark on her forehead: three nesting half circles in some sort of fluorescent white paint. Or it might be a tattoo. Endora had never seen a mark like this on any Delradon, child or not.
“Are you lost?” Endora asked. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
The child turned Endora’s hand palm up, then a small, chubby finger traced a circle with a cross in the middle, in the same white fluorescent paint.
“Sordied sangui,” the child whispered in Delradon, her voice barely audible. “Mors abomina.”
Behind her, the Delradon clerk gasped.
Endora snatched her hand away.
The child shot a cold glance at the clerk, who stood frozen, then she turned to Endora.
She hissed like a feral cat, the sound cutting the night air like a blade. Then she turned and ran away into the shadows of the square as fast as her short legs could carry her.
“What was that?” Endora picked up a handful of snow and rubbed her skin clean. She turned to meet the blank stare of the Delradon clerk. He looked stunned, and scared enough to want to dig himself a tunnel in the snow and stay there.
“Nothing.” The Delradon clerk forced a smile. His amber eyes were wide and glassy, fear obvious in every line of his face. “Please step into the transport now.”
Endora opened her mouth to ask more, but the transport door opened. Another Delradon appeared. This one was all about business, with a lean, muscled body that spoke volumes about his training. This was a man with a job, and nobody was getting in his way, especially not a human.
“Don’t forget. Helbon village, Henriette Papineau,” she said. With one last look at the Delradon clerk, Endora stepped inside the transport and the world she knew was closed off to her forever.
“You’re going to meet her in the throne room?” Dalgo lifted his arms up in exasperation. “How is that going to be a good thing again? Oh, yes, by making her uncomfortable. Is that why Rhyl is there, too? To make sure she’s scared to death. I see. This is going to start well, then. Have her travel all night, then greet her with the fright of her life.”
“I have no interest in making her comfortable,” Aldric answered through clenched teeth. “I only have an interest in stating the obvious.”
“Even better.” Dalgo scowled at Rhyl, who puffed with impatience, steam rising up his nostrils in small bursts. “The last thing
you need is to have her fear you.”
“You’re wrong. The last thing I need is to have her disobey me.”
Dalgo turned and walked away from the throne, his footsteps fast and angry in the vaulted ceiling room. Aldric watched him walk, not moving from his position on the throne. He knew his friend disagreed with his choice. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure why he’d chosen to meet Endora in the throne room, with Rhyl lying behind him. He knew what that would project. It would make him appear cold and intimidating, someone without emotion or warmth. It was the exact opposite of what Dalgo had had in mind for him. His friend had this ridiculous idea that Endora might decide to stay with him past the contract. That Aldric might find happiness in the company of the human woman.
Aldric stayed silent, absently patting the side of Rhyl’s muzzle.
Just when Dalgo turned back with an expression on his face that meant he was going to speak some more, the door at the far end of the throne room opened.
Then she walked in.
Endora’s small form moved with hurried steps, seemingly alone in the immense room. Her heels beat a steady staccato and she made a beeline in his direction, not deviating from her target.
Aldric stayed perfectly still as Endora approached. His heart suddenly beat faster, regardless of the years of harsh discipline that usually rendered him immune to anything that might upset his control.
Endora was no longer the nubile nymph of ten years before, when he’d first spied her across the fields. Her full breasts moved with her every step, and her rounded hips undulated in an enticing way as she walked. She had the curves of a woman, with all the sensuality that entailed. He found his ancient attraction bite again with renewed intensity. She was even more irresistible now than she had been before.
As she neared, he was entranced by the perfect oval of her face, by the luscious weight of the almost black curls she’d tied against her nape with a ribbon. His hand clenched on Rhyl’s scales at the idea of running his fingers through that wild forest, of seeing her hair cover her nude shoulders down to her waist.
Endora stopped at the base of the steps, her already small stature dwarfed further by the height of the throne.
“Why wasn’t I allowed to go back home?” Her voice faded to a hushed stillness. Her large, dark velvet eyes were wide and full of fear, but she kept her head high and held his stare like one accustomed to power, even though it was obvious she wasn’t.
Her arms were folded across her breasts and her dark eyes shot lightning bolts. Her full lips were half open, soft and inviting. Aldric was stricken by her face, so much so that he didn’t even realize she was expecting an answer.
Or that she had dared speak to him in that tone.
“I need to get back to my village as soon as possible.”
This time, Aldric was pulled from his paralyzing fascination. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned the meeting. He’d planned the introduction carefully, choosing to display authority and power, to make his position clear. This was the only way he could ensure her safety. She’d barely stepped into his life and already she was defying him.
“Endora Papineau.” He spoke calmly, not showing his irritation. “I am High Lord Aldric Darragon.”
Didn’t she know the proper way to introduce herself to her High Lord was to kneel until given permission to stand? After only briefly considering asking her to kneel, he dismissed the idea. If she didn’t do so spontaneously, he wasn’t going to ask her. There was something oddly pleasing about her defiance, about the way her head tilted upward in challenge.
“I know who you are.” Endora lifted her chin. “That doesn’t excuse your actions.”
He found he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. Her lips were pursed in an irritated pout and her eyes flashed on either side of a small, exquisitely dainty nose. The old stirrings of lust flamed in his body at the thought that he was going to be allowed to taste those lips, to gaze into those eyes. He vowed to himself that he would see them cloud over with passion.
But first, he had to make her understand the importance of keeping herself safe.
“Everything will be provided for you. If there is anything you desire, simply ask and it will be given,” he began, then frowned when Endora scowled. “There is, however, one thing you can never compromise on. Your safety is of paramount importance. There will be no contact with the world outside the castle until the contract is fulfilled.”
“There are people I needed to talk to before leaving,” Endora pleaded, all traces of bravery gone from her face. “Please, allow me to contact them, if only once.”
Could she be talking about her human lover? The thought, as appalling as it was, shouldn’t be surprising. Some human women who entered a mating contract had a lover waiting for them after their obligation was fulfilled.
Aldric stared at the woman who had signed herself off to him. A burning sensation flamed low in his guts at the idea of another man waiting for her, waiting to touch her. He was taken aback by the fierceness of the jealousy that gripped him, and he had to refrain from growling at her.
“It is impossible.” He shook his head, controlling the level of his voice as he spoke. “Under no circumstances are you to disobey those orders.”
“I need to say goodbye.” She moved quickly, climbing the first two steps toward him, her voice dangerously close to breaking. “It’s important.”
Behind him, Rhyl stirred.
Endora’s eyes grew wide and scared. She had obviously not noticed the presence of the dragon, or had thought he was a statue, as was often the case with human visitors who weren’t accustomed to a dragon’s complete stillness.
Rhyl lifted his head and slid down toward her in an unusual display of interest. Soon, the large head of the beast was directly in front of the woman, twice as large and as tall as she was.
Somewhere at the back of the room, Dalgo gave a startled shout and began to move toward them.
Aldric jumped from his seat and walked slowly toward Endora. “Do not scream,” he said in an even, soothing voice. “And whatever you do, do not move.”
Rhyl observed her, his vertical pupils constricted, his gaze intense.
Endora nodded slowly and stayed perfectly still. Her breath came in fast, shallow pants and her hands were squeezed in tight fists at her side, but she displayed impressive self-control by obeying his orders. Most women, Delradon or human alike, would have run away screaming at the first sight of Rhyl’s interest. And they would be wise to do so. Never had Rhyl taken any interest in a human—and rarely did he take any in a Delradon, except for Aldric and Dalgo. The only time Rhyl took any notice of anyone was when he intended to protect his master and violence was soon to follow.
Aldric closed the distance between himself and Endora just as Dalgo reached the bottom of the stairs. Aldric stood right behind the woman, her head reaching just under his chin, her back almost touching him. Awareness of her hot, supple woman’s body filled his mind, but he pushed it down. His immediate concern was to protect her from Rhyl, should the beast decide to reject the newcomer to his life.
One arm closed around her waist and he pulled her in, close enough that Rhyl would understand her importance to him. The beast’s knowing eyes strayed to Aldric for a second before settling on Endora again. Then, the most peculiar thing Aldric had witnessed in his long life happened.
Endora reached out, her hand open wide, stopping just a few inches short of the dragon’s muzzle.
Rhyl inhaled her scent, the power of his breath making her hair and dress move toward his nostrils. His pale blue eyes shone and he closed the distance between Endora’s hand and his skin. The contact was gentle and light, but it sent a jolt of energy across the dragon’s scales. Rhyl’s pupils dilated, then constricted to a fine line in the milky blue of his irises, a sure sign of his violent emotions. Endora seemed similarly smitten, her body unmoving and her eyes wide.
After a few seconds, she glided her hand over the beast’s cheek and a long shiver ran
along the dragon’s spine. Rhyl moved again, rubbing his head against Endora’s body, forcing her to grab his muzzle for balance. Aldric’s hold on Endora’s waist loosened, and she stepped out of his protection. A light, startled, feminine laugh filled the room.
A remote part of Aldric realized Dalgo was at his side, as mesmerized as he was by the spectacle.
“You’re just a big baby, aren’t you?” Endora slid her fingers along Rhyl’s ear. The beast purred with pleasure. “What a beauty you are.”
“It’s incredible,” Dalgo said in a low whisper, taking a step closer. “I’ve never seen Rhyl take to anybody except you. He barely acknowledges I exist, and I’m Bound to his mate.”
“He’s a wonder,” Endora said, the sincerity of her words written on her awed features. “I always believed dragon were cold blooded, but he’s so warm.”
“His temperature can reach a thousand degrees,” Aldric said. “If he wishes.” He took a step closer to Endora, almost unconsciously. Her presence was like a magnet, and he found he had to repress his urge to pull her in to him again. She was dangerously close to him, and he could smell the wild, female smell of her hair. The impulse to reach and grasp a handful of her velvet locks was almost impossible to control.
Then it occurred to him. Rhyl recognized her. His dragon accepted Endora and even welcomed the stranger.
Aldric locked eyes with his dragon, and the understanding almost made him fall backward.
Endora turned to face him, her beautiful, dark eyes close to his own. He locked his gaze on her lips, so easily reached, noticed the supple skin, wet from where her tongue had slid on it.
Get a grip! Stop it.
Aldric blinked the fascination away. Every fiber of his body was drawn to Endora in the most primal way. He had to get a hold on his desire, or things would slide down a dangerous slope, and fast.
“I need to send word to my family. I can’t wait for the end of the contract.”
