Dragon Treasure by SJ Sanders
Chapter 15
Drathnor circled low around the monastery. He snarled at the sight of a small crowd gathered below. He had intended to fly directly over the building and drop into his outer entrance into the mountain, but with so many eyes watching him he knew to do so would compromise its location. So he circled uncertainly, continuously veering back toward the monastery with a frustrated growl.
“Looks like you don’t have any choice but to land, big guy,” his female called out to him, a smirk carrying in her voice despite the fear layered beneath it.
Craning his head down, he glared at his captive mate. Sure enough, though her eyes were wary, her lips were twisted into a mocking smile.
“What’s wrong, afraid of mixing with the local rabble?” she challenged, one pale eyebrow rising.
Offended at even the suggestion that he might be afraid of a collection of humans and fae individuals, Drathnor folded his wings and dropped, startling a shriek from his female. A shout issued from below as well at the sight of his rapid plummet—no doubt assuming it to be a hunting drop—but he ignored the people scattering to the outer edges of the courtyard, his attention solely on the monastery. Despite the intentions of the high cleric, they would allow him to pass through with his mate if they didn’t wish to incur his wrath.
As the decoratively lain stones of the courtyard sped up to meet him, he snapped his wings at the last minute, propelling him against the surface so he could land. Dropping his hindlegs down, his claws scraping loudly as they gripped the surface, Drathnor eased his fore-torso down. His wings beat twice, keeping him aloft, as he deposited his catch, before he leaned back and settled his weight.
Mist billowed from his nostrils as he regarded the priests who rushed forward, the high cleric, his long robes fisted tightly and held up halfway to his knees, leading the charge while the temple guards dutifully pressed the crowd back. The priests were surprised to see his female. He could smell it on them and see it by the way they stumbled in surprise when they noted her presence as she straightened on the back of her peculiar metal horse. This did not deter them, but nor could he sense any hostility toward his mate—fortunately for them.
Curious and with no imminent threat apparent, Drathnor allowed the bulk of his guardian form to recede, his body more compact as he walked up beside his mate’s mount and waited. It was by no means due to any feeling of trust. Even in this form, he possessed greater size and strength than any of the males coming toward him. He was not required to trust them to assume his more vulnerable form because he was still deadly. No, he just wanted to know what they wanted and get it over with so he could get his mate safely within his nest once more.
The high cleric spread his arms wide, stopping a respectful half-dozen feet away as he bowed low.
“Lord dragon, we are pleased to see that you have returned, and with a…” he fell silent, his eyes narrowing on Drathnor’s mate. At his low growl, the priest hurried on. “A companion.”
The male was either an idiot or was playing at something.
“My mate,” he hissed, offended that any should reduce his female to be less than who she was. He would not have gone through so much trouble to retrieve a mere companion.
Dragons didn’t have companions. She was his, and that was all that mattered as far as it concerned the males present. All of them.
From the corner of his eye, he eyed the young guard he had seen his mate with before in the tavern. The male stood at the forefront of the crows, his expression tightening as his lips drew back with disgust. Stepping back, he spun around and stalked back into the throng of people crowding close with interest. Drathnor felt a surge of triumph at his would-be rival’s easy defeat despite the fact that his mate was doing her best to deafen him with an angry shriek.
“Your what?” his female sputtered, outrage and alarm rising in her voice, silencing only when he reached over and clamped his hand tightly around her calf in warning. He would not have her publicly shaming his claim. She made a harsh sound in her throat, swallowing whatever reply had been on the tip of her tongue only to drop her head and mutter under her breath. “Gods, even as dragons, all men are pricks,” she snarled. “One fuck and they think they own you.”
Ignoring his mate’s tirade, Drathnor’s eyes did not leave the high cleric as he watched him absorb the information. Eyes that widened momentarily, rapidly narrowed in a manner that made his spines stiffen. Yet he could not be sure whether or not he imagined it because the expression was fleeting, the priest adopting a placid expression as he bowed once more in acknowledgement.
“Of course. Forgive me. I did not realize. Naturally, we extend our welcome to your mate as well. Although the dragon’s keep is deep within the mountain, safe from the workings of men, we would ask that you and your mate reside with us for a time in the quarters that have been kept from the dawn of the monastery to house you should you ever return.”
Drathnor’s lip curled. It sounded terrible. He understood that it was meant to be an honor, but to sleep above ground… in the open? His eyes narrowed suspiciously. For what reason would these males wish to keep him and his mate vulnerable above the ground? It was unheard of and unnatural for a dragon to allow anyone close to his nest. The monastery, a stain upon his mountain with its strange and unnatural energies he suffered to be there by his goodwill alone. He certainly had no interest in being there or having his female contained within its walls.
Their insistence pricked at him, and his chest swelled with an artic blast brewing. He would clear the males gathered in front of him and whisk his mate safely into his mountain and then return to destroy the monastery itself if any dared approach his nest.
A delicate cough sounded at his side, and he whipped his head around to address it. His mate winced, drawing back sharply. Her expression blanked in the next moment, however, and she attempted a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Before you say no—which you’re about to, judging from the expression on your face—may I point out something here? Since you really seem set on having a human mate, you ought to know that humans really don’t do well long-term underground. I mean, it’s not bad to wait out a storm or a little vacation I guess if you like dark, grim, and lonely, but we need to live above ground.” She cringed as she looked over at the monastery. “Not that this is a luxury inn by any stretch of the imagination,” she added in a low mutter that he suspected she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear.
He scowled, his eyes darting to the priest. The male’s head bobbed in agreement.
“This is correct. Fresh air, exercise, mental stimulation and freedom of movement are necessary to human health. All things that she will have ready access to, in addition to suitable stabling of her cog mare,” the priest said quickly. “And,” he held up a finger in attempt to forestall Drathnor’s instinctive rejection, “it also has a private access tunnel to the main cave systems so you may move between the monastery and your caves in complete privacy.”
“Well, damn,” his mate muttered. “That would’ve been good to know.”
The high cleric cast a faintly disapproving look toward her but otherwise ignored his mate.
“What’s more, with our guards and the timeless strength of the monastery, your mate would be better protected here than she would be in most places above ground. It is the best place for you to keep her and to comfortably reside,” he concluded with an ingratiating smile. Drathnor had to push back his volatile need to tear the male’s eyes out for looking at what was his in such a way. As if sensing he was dancing precariously close to the edge of Drathnor’s good graces, the male’s snapped back to him with an ingratiating smile.
“If I may show it to you, perhaps that will aid in making a decision,” the high cleric suggested.
Letting out another unhappy blast of ice, Drathnor nodded and, in one movement, turned and reached over, snatching his mate off her mount and against his side. Holding her in place there with one hand, he reached over his other and untied the sack that scented deeply of his gold and pulsed with his hoard’s magic. She squeaked faintly—whether because of his hold on her or that he reclaimed his treasure, he couldn’t be sure—but she settled into a fuming silence as he inclined his head at the high cleric.
“Lead the way,” he rasped.
Transferring his grip to his mate’s arm to keep her firmly at his side, he followed the priest inside as a guard stepped in behind them to lead away the mare. His female made a sound of protest, her head whipping around briefly to follow the movement of the guard. It was only when she saw her mount led off to a narrow adjacent building that she ceased resisting and allowed herself to be pulled into the monastery.
Even so, her displeasure was palpable in the set of her jaw, her lips thinning as they entered the dim corridor. If he wasn’t mistaken, the distasteful wrinkle of her nose wasn’t due to the shift of the lift but in objection to her surroundings. Sensing his gaze on her, she met his eyes squarely, the blue of her eyes taking on a faint silver sheen around the perimeter of the iris. It stirred memories of glowing silver-ringed blue eyes—dragon eyes—staring back at him in the darkness of the caves. His skin shivered with desire at the memory before he pushed it away and returned his attention to the priest, returned from wherever he had disappeared to while Drathnor’s mind had been elsewhere. He proceeded to lead them down one corridor that he had never been down before to the foot of a sweeping staircase.
Sketching an abrupt half-bow, the priest indicated that they would be taking the stairs and ascended at an unhurried pace. Reduced to following behind him, it had Drathnor ready to spew another plume of ice at the male if he thought it might give him an incentive to move a little faster. He did not like the way the shadows clung to the walls of the corridors. It felt like something was watching them. Something he couldn’t identify.
As if sensing his impatience, the male glanced back at home him over his narrow shoulder.
“I do hope you find the quarters suitable. Admittedly, the builders knew nothing of dragons when they were constructed but, from my understanding, they made a large balcony that overlooks the cliffside that you should be able to fly from if you desire. They also spared no expense in making it comfortable with a number of luxuries.”
Drathnor refrained from commenting on the fact that he was perfectly comfortable with stone and the furs that covered his sleeping platform. Wood and velvets were easily damaged beneath his claws. Despite being above ground, the confines of the monastery also made him feel ill at ease. While the cave system leading from the monastery was similarly narrow, his nest was large and comfortable. The idea of being kept penned into a tiny room made his scales itch as if suffering from scale rot.
It was a small comfort that he could easily retreat into his nest whenever he liked. Being able to take to the air on a whim also served to curb his anxiety. If his mate required being above ground for her health, then what the priests offered was at least tolerable. Despite the fact that he didn’t trust the female, he would see to it that her health didn’t suffer. Now that they were bound, their lifeforce was permanently entangled. It was the very thing that he had worked to avoid much of his adult life and since falling prey to his instinct could no longer escape.
Perhaps it had been inevitable. He was grateful, at least, that if it had to happen that it was with a female who would not seek to strip his wealth and rule over him. He may not have any choice in the bonding anymore, but he would never belong to her. He would care for her as he would his precious hoard, and jealously protect her, but he would never surrender himself to her. She was his, and his alone.
The sooner she realized that, the better she would be. Judging by her mutinous expression, he guessed that would be a while. He was fine with that. He had several invaluable lessons to instill in his mate… not the least of which was to never set her hands on anything within his hoard again. He would not tolerate his mate stealing what was his.
Realizing that the priest had ceased walking and was waiting for some kind of response, Drathnor grunted in acknowledgment. It seemed to be exactly what the male was waiting for because the high cleric smiled ingratiatingly and led them down the long hall that smelled of the clergy to the point of being nauseating, with the overwhelming mixture of perfumes, until they arrived at a door at the other end.
To his surprise, the priest did not open that door but stepped at an angle and disappeared. He was only gone for a moment before he poked his head back around and waved them forward.
“This way. The access to your quarters is concealed and enchanted. If you come to the end of the hall, I have little doubt that you of all beings will be able to see the lines of magic and where to step through.”
Huffing at the ingenuity of the design, Drathnor stepped up to the wall beside the door and turned at an angle so that he saw the bright lines off to his side behind what was obviously a false wall. Pulling his female in front of him, he stepped carefully between the lines and found himself on a narrow staircase.
Was everything in the monastery built to be so claustrophobic? Growling, he lifted his mate off of her feet so he could take the stairs at a rapid clip. Eventually, the staircase opened, depositing him outside on a long, covered balcony facing the cliffs. It ran along the side of the monastery before opening into a large porch as promised. Setting his female back on her feet, he scrutinized their quarters.
The dark stone wasn’t the least bit inviting, lacing the beauty of his own workings in his nest, but it was functional at least. And private. Above, he could only see the edge of the bell tower peaking over the domed roof of the chapel with nothing else between him and the sky. A glance over the edge of the balcony—an action that made his female snarl unhappily—confirmed that even below them there was nothing to be seen but the cliffs and the edge of another residential zone beneath the balcony from the direction which they had come.
Grunting with approval, Drathnor made his way onto the porch, his eyes landing on a number of pots that were set out, each holding withered, dormant plants that would likely bloom in the fairer summer weather. Those at least would make the porch somewhat pleasant. They were not unlike the numerous alcoves carved out by his kin in their own nests in far-off mountains where they enjoyed fresh air and sunning themselves. He had not considered carving one out himself, but perhaps with a mate who required sunlight and fresh air he would start working on one.
He certainly had no intention of remaining in the monastery forever, regardless of the priests’ offer. He scanned the valley below thoughtfully. He was under no obligation to make them aware of this. In fact, the less the high cleric knew of his activities, the better. The male was oddly preoccupied with the idea of Drathnor inhabiting the vacant wing of the monastery. While he could not see any reason for the clergy to seek to cage or manipulate him, he decided to remain on guard while he worked on his nest in secrecy. Until then, this would make do, and would hopefully keep his mate reasonably contained.
Turning away from the view of the vista, he watched as the priest walked toward a pair of large doors. Removing a keyring from his pocket, he unlocked it and pushed the doors open.
Stepping inside, Drathnor’s brow plates rose. As cold and uninviting as the outside was, the interior snapped to life with lanterns enclosed under beautiful glass lampshades warming the room with their hues, casting their soft gleam on velvety blankets that covered a bed that rivaled his own pallet in size and on curtains that covered a pair of windows overlooking the porch and balcony. A solid desk sat in one corner of the abode with a large chair that could suitably hold his bulk. Not far from it, taking up a large portion of one wall, was a large hearth over which the cleric was bent, building a fire within it.
The male looked up, watching as Drathnor’s mate wandered further into their quarters. Her eyebrows were raised as she looked around, ignoring the priest frowning at her as she took everything in. Planting her hands on her hips in a fashion that he found somewhat adorable despite himself, she nodded unenthusiastically, her lips pursing.
“For a temple of doom, it’s not bad,” she said.
The high cleric straightened, his frown deepening at the insult.
“Temple of doom. Not bad, she says,” he grumbled, dusting his hands off on his voluminous robes. “This is a holy place of great power. As for the accommodations, of course it is ‘not bad.’ It is the best that we have. All prepared to honor one such as himself. It is our duty… if one such as yourself would know of such things.”
She gave the priest a mocking smile and gave a little bow that parodied the one the high cleric had given him earlier. Drathnor bit back his amusement as the priest spun away, red-faced.
Smart male. He wouldn’t want to give Drathnor any reason to throw him off that porch out there. He jealously protected what was his, and despite his own desire to punish her for her actions, he refused to allow another male even so much as speak in a way that would unforgivably cross the line of what he would tolerate. As it was, he danced at the edge of that line before choosing to ignore her.
Hand dipping into his thick robe, the high cleric quickly removed a thick leather collar and a length of rope, thrusting it out toward him.
“We have no chain in the monastery, but the head of the guard said that this would suffice. The collar was from one of his old hounds, and he assured me that should fit well enough around a woman’s neck given his experience.”
The male gave him a knowing smile as he handed them over.
“As you appear to have all you require here, I will take my leave. I have left the key to your quarters on the desk and will send a droid with an evening repast for you. The monastery’s service droid is the only one who has access to the hidden corridor and is programmed to lock onto the magic. Should you need anything from it, just touch the glyph on the wall beside the hearth and it will summon the droid to you.”
Accepting the offered items, Drathnor inclined his head. His eyes didn’t leave the priest as the male gave another hasty bow and left. Only when he was certain that the high cleric no longer lingered on their balcony did he turn to his mate, a hard smile curling his lips as he lifted the collar with one hand. His mate glared at the collar, her body stiffening.
“Shall we have a conversation, you and I?” he hissed.