To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was a rustle in the bush to the left. Valeria tripped, checking her surroundings as her heart hitched high in her chest. It’s a rabbit, she assured herself. There were no predators on this mountain. At least, she didn’t think there were.
Were there cougars at this altitude?
Even if there were, there was no chance in hell they’d hunt in dragon territory. In the few months she’d been there, she’d seen multiple dragons flying overhead. The first few times, the sight had scared the poop out of her, triggering her fight-or-flight response. But after a few weeks, she’d grown accustomed to the awesome sight. Mostly. At least she’d stopped freezing in place despite being buzzed by one she was sure was Kyrin, the dragon she’d pissed off by visiting the crypt.
But her feigned blasé attitude lasted up until one of those big dragons swooped down not a hundred yards from her down in the valley near Sanaa’s house and then took off, chomping a deer, eating it in mid-air.
In her dreams, the beast made ‘nom-nom’ noises. It would be much easier to eat me, her brain supplied helpfully. Her hide was nowhere near as thick as a deer’s.
Not that Rhys would allow such a thing. Which meant whatever was making that noise in the bush was a raccoon, possibly a fox. Something small.
At this point, I’ll take a badger. Walking away, she put it out of her mind. But the susurration followed her.
Picking up the pace, she walked up the hill in double time. And then she was running. That was when the beast began to whine.
“Oh no!” Recognizing the sound, she pivoted, running back down the hill. She dug through the thick undergrowth, uncovering a small, mottled blue dragon.
“Lanaa, what are you doing here?” she cried, picking up the little female dragon. “Ow, ow, claws. Watch the claws.”
She sighed with relief when the little girl responded, adjusting so her tiny, sharp claws weren’t digging into the fleshy part of Valeria’s arms. Resigned to adding another hour to her hike, she started down the hill.
“Your dad is going to kill me if this happens again,” she told the precocious baby.
“He will not touch you.”
Startled, she turned to find Rhys a few yards behind her. She looked up at the sky. “How did you sneak up on me?”
Dragons could be stealthy, as she’d discovered, but they were too big to land so close without whipping up the wind and kicking up a buttload of dust.
“I walked down here,” he said, his mouth twitching. “You were so distracted with the babe that you didn’t hear me.”
“Oh.” She felt a little stupid, but more than that, she felt…good. Being in Rhys’ presence felt good.
Certain that acknowledging that fact was about to have an equal and opposite reaction in the universe, she glanced up, looking for a fireball that would signal an impending meteor about to strike her dead.
“Is something wrong?” Rhys asked after she twisted her neck far enough to receive a warning cramp in the muscles.
“No, although I guess I’m worried. Thomas is going to be pissed if this happens again.”
Rhys raised a brow. “How many times has this occurred?”
Valeria showed her teeth. “This would be the fourth.”
“Oh, I see.” His mouth twitched.
“It’s not funny,” she admonished. “Thomas is going to be furious if this keeps on much longer.”
Stifling a chuckle, he threw an arm around her shoulder. They stopped and stared at each other before she shrugged—but not hard enough to dislodge him. If he wanted to touch her, that was all right. She had a handle on their magic. Even the unwanted bits.
Lanaa snuffled, trying to reach Rhys. “Do you want to take her?” she asked, hefting the creature’s slight weight a little higher.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid it would complicate matters.”
“Is it still the imprinting issue? Surely that’s not a concern anymore?” She glanced down at the babe before clarifying. “For you, at least. Haven’t the twins had enough time to bond with their parents that being held by someone else—err, someone who didn’t interfere at the moment of their birth—should be no problem?”
She had seen several other dragons holding both children during her brief visits.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple for me,” he said. “I’m the first for this clan because of my strength and level of dominance. At this stage of development, my holding them might interfere with the parental bond. A few more weeks, and then it should be safe enough.”
“So, this is normal?” She frowned, adjusting her hold on Lanaa as the girl turned her head in all directions, eager to see the world.
“Yes,” he said. “Though we haven’t had many young born here, we know such things from our writings, the most important that we managed to bring with us.”
Valeria had been all over the library, but she hadn’t seen those books yet. Those particular volumes that described in their history and biology must have been in his study or stored in their healer’s home.
She didn’t think he was hiding them from her, exactly, but it made sense that such precious tomes weren’t left out for causal consumption to just anyone.
Rhys reached out to steady her when a rock in the road would have unbalanced her, her vision obscured by the wiggling child.
“It’s a survival mechanism, isn’t it?” she asked with her customary insight.
“Yes,” he confirmed. There was no point in denying the fact now that she’d worked it out. He lifted one shoulder. “Given how seldom we breed, it likely evolved to protect the children should the worst happen to their parents.”
“So, if the parents somehow died or were incapacitated, the babies would bond with the most dominant dragon around them—their clan leader.”
He nodded. “It would ensure the babes obeyed him or her in exigent circumstances, increasing their chances of survival. But that particular biological imperative fades as they grow older. In a month or so, I will give them official welcome in the clan. They will recognize me as their authority without feeling the need to chase me around.”
“Like Lanaa is doing with me? Why hasn’t Sanaa banned me from the house?”
“Accidental imprinting sometimes happens. It will fade as the babes become more independent and the more time they spend with their parents. Your continued interaction with Lanaa may prolong the period a bit, but not by too much—a year or two at most.”
Spinning to face him, she almost dropped Lanaa.
“A year or two?”
“It’s not a long time to us.”
There was something in his tone, a thread of sadness that ran deep. It’s the loss of their people, that terrible tragedy where their leader went mad. But something poked at her, a sense of knowing that there was more.
She glanced down at Lanaa to find she’d fallen asleep. Imagine this coming out of you. Not that she was thinking about mating with a dragon, but given the fact this baby was part of an interspecies pairing brought up several questions.
“Thomas and Sanaa would still work if it went the other way—if Thomas was the dragon and Sanaa the shifter?”
Shifters were known for their resilience, so it stood to reason.
“It’s easier if the female is human…or witch.”
Her lips parted. “How do you figure that?”
He explained how humans and witches, which he called magically enhanced humans, were genetic blank slates, which allowed all sorts of creatures to make babies with them, even something as alien and extreme as a dragon.
“It’s Thomas’ shifter nature that may have led to complications, one less likely to occur in a human-dragon mating,” he finished.
Her mouth thinned. “Because we’re the breeding equivalent of tofu or plain potatoes? We take the flavor of whatever we’re mixed with?” she asked, not bothering to hide her indignation.
Rhys’ face contorted. It took her a second to realize he was holding back laughter.
“It’s not a bad thing. In fact, in some circles, humans are valued and protected for this very reason.”
She was tempted to say something scathing about brood mares and baby factories but discussing reproduction with Rhys was too much—just too much. So, she asked him something else.
“Is it my imagination or is Lanaa a bit more muted in color than her brother?”
She’d visited both babies earlier and noticed Galen’s coloring was starting to brighten, getting hints of a brilliant cobalt blue around his wings and belly.
“Like many other dimorphic species, our males are the more colorful.”
To attract a mate, her brain finished. It always came back to that. “This conversation is becoming circular.”
His quick grin was like a thunderbolt—brilliant, devastating, and gone before she completely registered it.
It was a good thing he comes out of the shift fully dressed.She knew that wasn’t true of other shifters. Wolves, bears, wildcats—all the more mundane beasts—ended up naked after the transformation.
She was suddenly glad Rhys had never actively flirted with her. She wasn’t equipped to handle a lightning strike.