Dragon Treasure by SJ Sanders
Chapter 13
Drathnor’s eyes opened lethargically. His body felt completely relaxed, the muscles exhausted and yet pleasantly so. The corner of his mouth rose. Taking a mate had its perks. And given that he had done so while also escaping the traditions and expectations that plagued his species, he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy the change in his mating status. The mating fever had been torturous, but he had his sanity back and could look forward to enjoying his female without regularly undergoing that frenzy.
At least not until she went into heat. In the end, the frenzy was a small sacrifice.
Yawning widely, he curled his wing in, searching for his mate. He wanted her close. His cock twitched with interest inside its sheath. He would enjoy curling around her for a bit before rutting her again. This time, he would take his time, learning his female’s every response. He enjoyed the fantasy until his wing slid against his body without drawing in her soft form. He sat up and looked around, his mouth opening slightly as he scented the air.
Her musk lingered, but it was fading and cold, which was emphasized by the distance he felt between them along the string of magic that now connected them. Where was she? Wherever it was, it was far from the safety of the nest.
Unacceptable.
Rising from the floor—and dispassionately noting in the process that he hadn’t managed to get his mate anywhere near his bed before mounting her—Drathnor suppressed the cold fury that swept through him. As much as he wanted to barrel out of the cave after her, he reined in his instinct. He wasn’t going to react like an unthinking beast.
Besides, she wouldn’t get far. What was interesting was that she had been able to get any distance at all from the nest. When he woke, logic told him that she should have been there still beside him. That she was not, was distressing, but it was an emotion he was able to set aside as he considered the matter.
It was clear from the illumination hour marked on the ilthiri stones that he had been unconscious for some time, having succumbed to the chemical releases firing through his body. That was not unexpected. Mating created significant physiological changes between a mated pair that would have dragons curled around each other sleeping and mating in their nest for days without emerging. His reaction to the mating process was normal. That his female was not there indicated that she suffered some immunity to the manipulation of her energy when his vrillon sparked the bond between them.
That she took it as an opportunity to flee both offended and amused him. He disliked the notion of his mate escaping his nest or leaving at all without him. That she would seek to evade him at all infuriated him. She was his! At the same time, it was entertaining that she thought she could actually escape. There was no escaping a mate-bonded dragon.
He would simply retrieve her and bring her back.
Striding from the room, his nostrils flared, drinking in the fading remnants of her scent trail, when it suddenly veered away, deeper into the cave, his head snapped around, his eyes narrowing.
Why would she go that way?
What game was his mate playing with him?
He did not like it. This was his nest and he preferred everything to remain ordered in the manner in which he put it. The unexpected did not sit well with him.
Grunting with displeasure, he turned toward her scent, following it. Although she was no longer within the mountain, his curiosity as to what she had been doing required satisfaction. One thing was certain: he would have to have words with his mate about exploring the caves alone. Although his nest was sufficiently protected, there were many access points to side tunnels that were easy to get lost in, in which sometimes predators found their way deep into the mountain.
Following the faded scent trail, he tracked it to the nestling rooms. He paused, puzzled. Her scent lingered just outside each door. She had paused at each but hadn’t gone in. The sight of them, abandoned, pricked at him. He had begun instinctively constructing them long ago, responding to a drive to prepare his nest, but had immediately deserted them when he realized what he was doing. He passed by them many times without feeling any pang—without even noticing their presence—but now things were different with his mating bond in place.
He wanted to stop and dig them and begin the long process of carefully carving them with claw and dragon’s ice. But it would have to wait.
Drawing her scent deeper into his lungs, he stalked down to the doors at the end of the corridor. Although there were several small passages that branched off the main corridor, her scent didn’t deviate. The webbed spines along the back of his jaw lifted in response to the tension suddenly tightening through him. His hoard was deep within his nest. There should have been no reason for her to continue along this route.
His breath slammed out of him in a snarl.
No reason unless she was seeking it.
In his madness, he called to her, demanded her presence and raged at her absence until she arrived. He had not cared how she had gotten down to his nest, only that he scented her drawing closer until he was given the opportunity to capture her.
Wings tucking against his back to give him greater speed, he raced the remaining distance, puffs of ice fog falling from his mouth as he burst into the room. The disrupted energy hit him hard.
The hoard was fractured, large tears and gaps in its magic setting him off balance. The energies that should have recharged him instead sent a wave of sickness washing over him. It was nearly crippling, with a wave of agony that rode quickly on its heels. He staggered forward, searching out and finding every tear left by the treasure stolen.
He frowned, puzzled. The bits and pieces were inconsequential to the greater health of the hoard. Dragons suffered theft or even the occasional misplacement of small amounts of their treasure. To be so sickened, it had to come from the hoard’s foundation.
An icy prickling sensation ran through him.
Ignoring the other tears littering the space, he stormed to his hoard’s root at the depths of its center. There, the column he had painstakingly crafted to hold the hoard seed gleamed in the light of the ilthiri stones. It was his greatest work of art. He had spent years crafting it to hold the precious heart of his horde. And it was empty.
Eyes widening, he dropped back. His mate had stolen from him.
The fury that he had been holding at bay crept forward through his mind. She insulted and betrayed me!
Whirling away, his wings spread wide and rattling with menace, Drathnor broke free from his hoard room and streaked through the corridors and chambers of his nest. His fury was such that he did not even think to grab his cloak but burst into the cave systems above his nest and began his ascent. He seethed with every step as he imagined the moment that he caught his female. He would drop down on her from above and bring her back to his nest where she would be restrained against mischief and to await his pleasure until she repented her actions.
His mate was going to be severely punished.
The gate into the monastery, never proving to be an obstacle to his coming and going, burst open effortlessly before him. The clang of metal striking stone as the gate reverberated as he stalked in, drawing every eye in the chapel to him.
A small handful of priests stared at him from where he stood around a nun, interrupted in the midst of whatever conversation they had been having. They gaped, exchanging nervous glances before breaking away from the female, leaving her standing alone before him. Her face pinkened in discomfort.
Drathnor slowed to a halt, eyeing the nun and priests with confusion. They were all staring at him expectantly for reasons he couldn’t fathom—and they were blocking his path. It made him uneasy. More so the fact that the unfamiliar nun was now moving closer to him at the encouragement of the priests. A strange smell wafted from her, and his nose wrinkled. He side-stepped in attempt to evade her.
What was that stench?
The high cleric, shrewdly assessing the situation, made his way forward, his head bowing.
“Holy dragon of Tarachna, we greet you and offer you an alliance with our people. A woman of our own offers herself to your pleasure, with the hopes that, through her, your will be united with ours.”
What?
The nun startled and cast a questioning look at the male. “But Father Dephery, I have only just begun my preparations. I haven’t even practiced…”
The cleric quelled her with an impatient look and a quick shake of his head. She swallowed and ducked her head shyly. Reaching up, she loosened the laces at the front of her robe, allowing one sheer sleeve to fall, baring her shoulder.
His stomach twisted in disgust with the realization of exactly what they expected of him. He had no time for this. They were not only delaying him but insulting him with their assumption.
Spreading his wings, he rattled the joints in their longer fingers with rapid vibrations and hissed menacingly as he stalked forward. Let them see how much they desired to mate their woman to him now.
The nun’s eyes rounded in terror. Shoving her fist into her mouth to stifle her shriek, she stumbled away from him to cower, hunched over, kneeling on the floor. He gave her a pitying look in passing, but his attention was on the high cleric and his priests who had thought to manipulate him. With a roar, he let out a cold blast in the direction of the clergy.
They scattered before it, crying out with fear as they parted with his approach. Those cries grew louder from the guards and worshippers who fled from the sight of him when he emerged outside. Tipping his head back, he allowed himself a second to enjoy the feeling of the sun warming his scales. A brassy sound trumpeted from him as he reached for his guardian magic.
He muscles and bones bulged and lengthened, tissue stretching and thickening with the increase of his size, his scales widening as additional jagged horns and spines broke from his skin.
Then the screams started.
Ignoring the beings scattered around, Drathnor spread his wings wide once more and, with a flap, launched himself into the skies. With the freedom of the skies open to him, he struck out, soaring through the air. His every sense was locked onto his mate’s sorrowful and needing call pulsing through their bond.
She may not have realized that she was summoning him, but he would not disappoint. An eager need churning through him, his cock hardening in its sheath at the erotic pull. Soon enough he would have her beneath him and she would never know the discomfort of being parted from him again. If that meant chaining her within their nest, so be it.
An idea that certainly had merit.
A deep bugle bursting once again from his chest, Drathnor dropped down the side of the mountain in pursuit.