Dragon Treasure by SJ Sanders
Chapter 19
His female was irritated at him again. Drathnor withheld a sigh as she fumed at his side, connected to him by the rope tied around each of their waists. For the last couple of days, he had relished taking the care of his female. Doting on her even. Yet whatever companionship they found during much of the early day hours, whether challenging each other at games of strategy and wit or in exchanges of past histories, after every meal they shared she seemed to grow hostile. She no longer offered to challenge him in games after their meals as she did the first day, though she had gloated when she had conquered his kingdom.
Instead, she had begun withdrawing from him, only deigning to play with him or keep him company during the early hours of the day before the midday meal. The morning meal was usually a simple affair and an enjoyable one, which left him admiring his mate’s graceful if somewhat irritable early morning mannerisms. It was perhaps the only thing that kept her from being prickly with him from sunup to sunset. And with his nature, he ill received such hostility, so it was unpleasant all around for both of them.
He was not ignorant of the cause. He was simply at a loss on how to deal with it. Feeding his mate was supposed to be a sensual experience of shared affection and pleasures, but the arousal was unintended. As he was not inclined to continue indulging her sexual needs while she refused to accept their bond, it was a double-edged sword, one that he suffered from daily when he scented the call of her needing.
The natural progression of the mating play would have been to mate with her as soon as they were finished, but each time he was tempted he found himself caught with an unprecedented uncertainty. He was not sure if his mate really wanted him and desired that bond-enhanced union or if she was merely seeking release. Dragons of his species did not carnally enjoy sexual acts until they found their mate, but since he was aware that humans were different in that regard, the very thought of her just simply seeking pleasure with him had made it impossible to initiate further intimacy.
Not physically impossible, but because everything within him rejected the act without the emotional component.
So they both suffered now. And it was for that reason that they finally emerged from their quarters in search of distraction. The baths had seemed like the perfect opportunity to soothe the ardor and seek some space from each other’s pheromones in the water.
He knew that he desperately needed it.
His own body was primed, and it hungered for her much smaller human form. It was only by his iron will that he kept it completely in submission to his control. Ice dragons were not as violently ruled by their passions as some species. Control of one’s body was something every juvenile learned. Proving it was an important rite of passage into adulthood. Because of that he was strong now in the face of what was necessary.
“Excuse me, Lord Drathnor?”
A guard dressed as one of the temple elite rushed over, the dark plume of his helmet bobbing, offset only by a distinct silver stripe at the front. The male cast a curious glance at Tania but turned his attention back to Drathnor immediately. Despite the way the title made him want to pluck scales out of sheer annoyance, he faced the male with a bland expression, his brow raised in polite inquiry when he would prefer just to leave the human far behind them. Since he did not want the guard trailing after them to the pools, where his mate would be naked and bathing herself, he tolerated the interruption.
After the briefest hesitation, the male bobbed his head in another deferential nod. “My lord, High Cleric Dephery asks that you meet him in the solarium.”
Drathnor gritted his teeth, his chest vibrating with his repressed growl. “Very well.” He glanced over at his mate apologetically. “You will enjoy your bath soon. We will see what he wants, and I will make certain that we are on our way quickly.”
The guard shifted in place, his eyes flicking to Tania nervously. “I am afraid that the solarium is a restricted section of the monastery. Your mate is not permitted. However, I will see to it that she is comfortable. I have been charged with her care.”
Drathnor stiffened at the words, his blood icing with his rising anger. His tail lashed out, breaking off tiny stones from the wall beside the guard with the heavy impact of its strike. The guard froze, but to his credit did not scurry away. That could be admirable if Drathnor was not prepared to kill the human for even suggesting it.
The daring!
“You will not be present while my mate is undressed and bathing herself,” he hissed, his voice grinding low with threat.
The male swallowed. “Not out of any interest of my own…” his eyes widened, “…that is to say, your mate is very beautiful, and it would have been an honor, but I wouldn’t.” He drew in a sharp breath of air. “I swear that I would not look at your mate while she bathes and disrespect either of you in such a way.”
“It will not be happening at all,” Drathnor corrected, finally allowing his snarl to become audible. The man flinched but did not agree.
“But my lord, the high cleric…”
“Can come see me at a more suitable time,” he finished, his teeth snapping with emphasis as he released a tiny puff of mist.
The human gave a jerky nod, saving his own life in the process since it came a split second after casting a concerned look toward Tania. Drathnor’s eyes narrowed, the icy mist gathering thickly in the storage pockets at either side of his lungs, but slowly let it out in a long billow that followed after the guard when the male about-faced and made a speedy exit.
While he was doubting the intelligence of the high cleric, it was gratifying at least the guard had at least a small amount of survival instinct.
He shook his head grimly, the spines of his ear fringes rattling softly. To think that the priest had believed that he would separate an ice dragon from his mate so easily.
“Well, he was nearly dead meat,” his mate observed cheerfully from his side and Drathnor glanced down to see his mate breathe in his mist with a rapturous smile.
Drathnor stilled, his tail and wings stiffening in predatory silence as he waited for his mate to return his mists with her own sweet essence. When she did not, he hid his frown behind a neutral mask as he turned away, ushering her down the corridor toward their destination. Neither of them commented on the possessive way he cupped his wing around her as they made their way to the baths.
Peevishly, he wondered if he would have to clear the pools of any lingering pilgrims or priests enjoying the water but was grateful to discover the baths were empty. Grimacing at the graphic decor, he could only imagine why. The servants of Tarachna among his kin would be horrified to see what passed for a place of reverence among the human temple keepers.
Not that there weren’t similar images of Tarachna with her mates, but the creatures being born from them were wholly unnatural. He was still staring at them, disturbed when his mate tugged at the rope tied securely about his waist.
Looking down at her, he met her gaze. Head tipped back, her eyebrow arched in an expression that he could only imagine was playful as she gave it another tug.
“Are we done being joined at the hip?” she asked, a smile playing about her lips.
He grunted and untied them, his eyes tracking once more, distractedly.
She stepped closer and also looked up. She gave a low whistle.
“Yeah, these are no less disturbing than they were the first time I saw them. This Tarachna is a hell of a lot creepier than I originally thought.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “These are perversions made of their joining. They had many offspring, some kindly and some cruel… but these grotesque parasites are no offspring of the mother.”
“That’s good to know. The human mind is a strange place, and clearly this sect isn’t playing with a full deck. But when it comes to beliefs, that’s their prerogative, I guess.” She shrugged and slipped into the water.
“The servants that these priests claim to admire would set this monastery and the entire city that sheltered them ablaze if any knew that this was here,” he rumbled.
He should have destroyed it himself long ago, when it first became apparent that there was a temple of the dragon mother established on this mountain without the knowledge of the great council comprised of her most ancient and holy servants. But at the time, it had seemed harmless enough and he had seen no problem with letting it stand.
Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized the horrific images. As absorbed as he was in mentally cataloging the depravities illustrated here, he was not unaware of his mate. From the corner of his eye, he watched her wade into the deeper end of the pool, her long, unbound hair trailing in the water behind her.
His cock jumped within his sheath, threatening to emerge, and a brassy purr rumbled in his chest as he turned and slipped into the water after her. He couldn’t wait to bathe his female, enjoying every soft sound of pleasure that she would—
“Lord Drathnor, I am glad I did not miss you. I worried that perhaps you had retreated to the privacy of your rooms.”
High Cleric Dephery’s voice cut through him, his large body freezing. He had been caught, dangerously preoccupied with his mate with his need for her as was the habit of his kind, and had not noticed the approach of the priest and guard.
His ear fans expanding and becoming more erect even as they flattened to the sides of his head, his muscles bulged and tightened with tension. Even his dorsal fan that was normally flattened at the top of his head snapped up at the presence of an unwelcome male near his mate. His naked mate, who was currently dipping in the water and washing herself in the dark pools of water.
Spinning around, he snapped his wings open to their full length, hiding his mate behind his bulk from prying eyes, his dorsal spine rattling in time with the long joints of his wings. The high cleric drew to a halt at the obvious threat, but he did not back away as the guard trailing close behind him retraced his steps and averted his eyes, proving again to be the smarter of the males. The priest, for being an elder servant of Tarachna and committed to the dragon lore of the goddess, given his eagerness to receive him, was either ignorant of Drathnor’s warning or simply did not care.
It was a dangerous game that Dephery played.
Arctic blasts curling from his mouth, Drathnor narrowed his eyes on the male standing arrogantly before him, his head tipped back at an exaggerated angle in an attempt to meet Drathnor’s eyes.
The human presumed himself to be an equal. That much had been clear when the priest had invited him to stay in the monastery as if he were some great host, when the mountain and everything on it was Drathnor’s territory. It was by his grace that this city and its monastery remained there. He was beginning to wish that he had agreed to dwell there with his mate, but now that there were signs of something insidious and unnatural going on with Tarachna’s holy site, he could not walk away either. He may not have taken the vows of the dragon mother, but he felt a responsibility—and a fury at all that he was witnessing—all the same.
“Leave at once,” he growled.
It was the only warning he was capable of giving at that moment.
The high cleric frowned. “You don’t understand. I must meet with you immediately. It is a matter of the utmost importance, I can assure you.”
“So speak and leave,” Drathnor hissed.
The obstinate male shook his head. “My apologies, but I cannot. This is not for ears beyond the sanctity of the servants of Tarachna. I came personally to request that you leave your female under the watch of the captain of my guard. As a knight of Tarachna, the head of our own guard, he can be trusted with her safety.”
Drathnor’s nostrils expanded as the ice particles built up within him. The arrogant human thought to command him and supersede his own wishes that he made very clear to the guard standing uncomfortably behind his superior.
“Tell me what you wish to say, and I will determine whether or not I will speak to you… but only after my mate is safely within our nest,” he rumbled with displeasure.
Dephery grimaced, his face puckering as if tasting something unpleasant. He glanced at the edge of Drathnor’s wing as if attempting to see beyond it and dropped his voice.
“I do not wish for you to take this the wrong way, but it is regarding your selection of mate.”
Drathnor bristled once more. It had been no secret that the male had been displeased when he arrived with Tania, but he had assumed that the elder priest would wisely hold his tongue. Did he truly believe that he had any more power over Drathnor’s mating? He barely had control over it himself.
“No,” he snarled.
“She is not suitable!” the high cleric argued, his face flushing so deeply with anger that it appeared a shade shy of purple. “Our holy books containing our most sacred prophecies spoke of when the holy dragon of the mountain would come into his breeding time. That Tarachna would inspire this desire in her servant to bring forth her ultimate power here. Only a woman prepared in her service will be the proper vessel. This female you have chosen is nothing more than a thief!”
Slapping the water with his tail, Drathnor hissed angrily. “You presume much, human, and know nothing. If you are seeking to replace Tania, nothing but failure awaits you. We are permanently bonded, and there is nothing that can change that no matter your desires or manmade prophecies.”
The cleric blustered, his chest thrown out as if his authority over the monastery extended over Drathnor as well.
“You cannot ignore your part in this prophecy!”
“It is not mine. It has no power over me,” he snarled back as his neck arched in preparation to defend his mate if necessary.
“Gods curse the day that female arrived,” the priest spat.
Drathnor rattled his wings to goad the male into fleeing before he acted on his impulse to kill the human right then and there when a feminine scream echoed through the room as something splashed through the water, cutting off the scale-raising sound.
Wings slapping close, he spun around, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Where his mate once stood hip-deep in the water, there was nothing but a violent ripple echoing a struggle going on beneath the depths.
The black stone of the pool and the walls of the baths made it impossible to see anything in the deeper water. He caught a shimmer of silver and dove forward, his tail snaking through the water to propel him.
When the floor dropped startingly from beneath his feet, Drathnor dove, his wings pinned tightly against his back, only to snap open once he reached a suitable depth to draw him through the water with each stroke of his wings.
The natural cavern of the healing springs extended deep, its black rock cutting off nearly all light except the silver glow of his mate’s eyes. Despite what was visible within the baths, it went far deeper than what the small room revealed.
He was no water dragon armed with webbed claws and a finned tail, but he snapped his wings and tail through the water with all of his strength and thanked Tarachna that it seemed to be enough to catch up to the tiny figure of his mate being dragged downward. Her lithe body whipping around against the strength of an unseen assailant.
It was only when he got close enough that his own dragon’s vision allowed him to see the numerous thin tentacles extending from some unseen source. They were wrapped tight around Tania, writhing, knotting upon each other, climbing over each other in attempt to get ahold of her. One slipped into her mouth as another wrapped around her slender throat. They climbed up her legs, tightening around the thighs, the tips digging against the supple flesh that his mate kept firmly clenched together.
With another fierce snap of his wings, he plunged forward, his entire body plowing into them as he slashed with claws, tearing his mate from their greedy grasp. Inky fluids surrounded them but still he ripped them free. When the last was torn away from her mouth, he rolled in the water, his mate clasped against his chest as he reoriented himself and closed his mouth over hers to share his greater store of breath.
Going up was much easier than descending. With the frenzied lash of his tail and wings, he spun up through the gloom. When they broke the surface, his mouth released hers and they both swallowed in lungsful of air. The guard, or temple knight rather, hurried to the side of the pool, his armor removed and clothes sodden from his own attempts to help. Reaching down, the male attempted to take Tania, but Drathnor bared his teeth in warning.
The human held his palms up in front of him in assent and stepped away as Drathnor carried his mate into the shallow water. A glance confirmed that nothing lingered, and the water was once again at peace. Whatever that creature was and wherever it came from, it seemed to have vanished. The water around him was once again tranquil. The only sound was the echo of his mate’s coughs. Curling his wings partially around her, he concealed her nudity as the humans swarmed him.
“What was that?” Tania whispered, her voice raspy from the water she had swallowed during the course of her fight.
He had no answer. He glanced worriedly down at his mate, praying that there would be no lingering damage from the creature attempting to access her airways.
A gleeful laugh rang out around them, drawing their attention to the high cleric. He pointed a bony finger at Tania.
“You wish to know what that was? That was the disapproval of the goddess. Hail most blessed Tarachna, for she wishes to remove the deceiver—the unholy female who taints her house. She will consume you yet, girl, and scatter your bones to be feasted on upon her children,” Dephery railed, his eyes wild with fervor.
Tania looked back at Drathnor with wide eyes and her fingers dug into his wing-base in a move that was inappropriately erotic for her fear and their current situation. With supreme effort he was able to ignore it as she whispered, “That was one of her children?”
“No,” he growled. “I do not know what that was, but it was nothing from our blessed mother.”
Whatever it was, he was certain that it was a part of the stench that clung to the deep recesses of the monastery that he had been able to ignore until now.
He would ignore it no longer.
Shoving by the gloating, mad priest, he carried his mate away. Never again would he allow her within those tainted waters, overseen by the depravity of the carved images hanging overhead. Never again.