CHAPTER 9 CORY
S omeone is bedding the faery, my faery and it’s wrong . It’s wrong even beyond my own jealousy, my own rage at being powerless to be with her; it’s wrong in a way that makes my diamond-sharp scales stand up on my back.
I shifted to my dragon form as soon as I smelled it: the secretive masculine smell, the lilac and ash odor masked expertly. The smell of dead flowers, I realized after focusing on it for a few minutes: sickeningly, unmistakably dead. And whoever it is, he’s bedding Mili. So I’ve been storming around the volcano’s caverns in a barely-contained rage, all my force being used to prevent me from propelling the whole magma chamber up in an unstoppable explosion.
I switch between flying through the halls and stomping through them, especially the tighter chambers; nothing could piss me off more right now than getting stuck in a narrow passageway while the faery has sex to some hidden-odor, dead-lilac nobody. The faery who, I’m not-so-slowly realizing, I need. Badly. This is some sort of magnetic pull, a forbidden chemistry crackling between us that ignites my every thought and desire. It feels like a curse. I feel her deep within me, and anything that hurts her, hurts me too. Although right now I should expect to crave a smoke pretty soon, post-climax.
–––
About an hour later, the horrible combination of the faery’s aura and the dead flower scent ends. They must have stopped fornicating, thank the Realm’s Mother. Their odors separate, like spiderwebs untangling, and I shift reluctantly back into human form. No need to be dramatic, now, is there?
“Cory!” I hear Port call out, but there are two sets of footsteps tramping down the hallway. Max must be with him.
I grunt in frustration at their timing – must they come to pester me while I’m furious from the knowledge that the faery is getting off somewhere else? And with the dead flower guy, no less.
My two newfound friends bound up the hall to me, Port frowning and Max laughing at the scowl on my face.
“You look terrible,” Max snidely remarks. I just growl at him in response, and he laughs harder. “What’s the matter? Oh, let me guess – you smelled her, too.”
My eyes go wide, and the walls around us shake with the anger radiating off me. “What did you just say?”
Max laughs, and goes to clap me on the shoulder. I sidestep him easily, though, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so defensive, Cory. She’s just having her fun. We’ve both smelled her, too, how could we not, you’d have to be nose-blind not to smell her. Can’t say I enjoy the scent of her being bedded by some random faery, but there’s not much to be done about it, is there? You clearly said, dragons do not go into town. It was one of your ground rules, remember?”
I glower at him, silently, my eyes narrowing as I get more and more sick of his taunting.
“Max, ease up,” Port says.
“No, Max – continue. See how it works out for you. I dare you.” I stare him down, and something wicked lights up in his eyes. A challenge, he seems to think. Apparently he hasn’t realized how great of a threat I really am, how powerful, how vicious . And with the sexual build-up in my body, I want nothing more than to kick some ass.
Max smirks. “I think once the faery has had his way with her, I’ll go to town and bed her. Since, well, you apparently won’t. I anyway wanted to venture into town, rules are meant to be broken, eh!” He takes a few taunting steps towards me, and my fists clench furiously at my sides. He glances down at them and smiles wider, apparently relishing my rage. “What did you say her name was, Port? Milica?”
“Milica?” I say, stunned at the sudden revelation that they’ve talked about her behind my back and know her name.
“He had a wet dream about her in the bathing chambers. Didn’t you, Port?”
Port’s gone pale, but still nods at Max’s encouragement. I swivel my head to face him. “That’s the side you’re taking, then? Your dear Maximillian’s?”
“It’s Maxenthius , you madman,” Max laughs.
At that, I lunge for him, throwing us both across the hall and tackling him into a far wall. The wall splinters around us and we fall to the floor. Max crumples for a moment, out of breath, and I whirl around to face Port. “Well? Have at me, then!”
It’s clear that Port is recognizing the error of taking Max’s side, but he shifts into his dragon form nonetheless (his eyes wide with fear all the while). I morph into my own dragon form, then, scales hard with righteous fury. I stretch quickly, and they click into place all along my spine and shoulders.
Max calls to Port, “Get him, fool!” and Port launches into a sprint towards me. I fling him over my shoulder easily, dragging a wide gash into his shoulder as I do. Port cries out in pain as I see Max’s dragon form flinging itself at me. I roll my eyes and swiftly dodge, letting him slam himself into a slab of obsidian. Splinters of black rock fly everywhere, and I launch myself across the room to evade them. Max cries out “Godsdamnit!” as shards bury themselves in his arms and legs.
“You forget yourselves, fools! I am the ruler of this volcano. You cannot best me!”
At that, Max laughs raucously, and rips a glassy fragment of obsidian from his shoulder. “Doubtful!” he cries out.
Enough dodging, I decide. Time for destruction. I let out a vicious roar and sling a pillar of flames at Max.
“Oh, I’m in a fix!” he screams as he barely dodges in time. I spin around to face Port (who’s foolishly running to attack me) and kick him ferociously in the gut. He flies back into the wall and crumples to the ground. I’m not satisfied, though, not while they’re still conscious. I go to Port and slam a wing into him, sending him flying down the hallway. He slams into Max and the two of them topple to the ground, an embarrassing mess of scales and wings.
“You look like morons,” I growl.
Max stands, leaving Port lying prone on the ground. It’s clear that he’s injured, but he hasn’t given up yet. “Let’s have it out,” he says. “You haven’t beat me yet.”
“Your imminent loss is not an excuse to be late to dinner,” I taunt. “Be there on time, or reap the consequences. It won’t be pretty.”
Max seethes, his scales pricking up. “We’re not children.”
“You act like them.”
He hurls flames at me, but I anticipated as much –I press my wings down sharply and fly easily above them before landing on top of him. I throw down one hard punch, and he’s on the ground. He breathes shallowly, but he stares up at me anyways. His eyes are wide as I say, “Never speak of the faery girl that way again. She is mine .” Then I punch him once more, and he falls unconscious.
I look at Port and Max’s slumped dragon forms as they slowly morph back into humans, and quietly smirk. I didn’t mind fighting them, to be honest. They’re decent opponents, although I’d never admit it. Luckily for me, if they’re late to dinner, I’ll get to beat them once more.
–––
A few hours later, Port and Max practically crawl to the dining hall. I raise my glass to them, laughing at their state. They’re both bruised and scraped, but I don’t regret it –someone has to rule the house, after all. Better it’s me.
“Don’t laugh,” Port almost whimpers. “It hurts.”
“Need I remind you that you did this to yourselves?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
Max rolls his eyes, but shrugs as if to say, You’re not wrong. At the conciliatory gesture, I smile warmly and gesture for them both to sit. Max looks skeptical, but I motion again, and he and Port both take their seats.
“Relishing your victory, then?” Max asks, smirking self-deprecatingly.
I shake my head, smiling. “I relished the battle more than anything. You’re decent fighters. I haven’t fought alphas in a very long time. I’m lucky to have ... met you.” Port chokes on his wine and I laugh. Even Max is wide-eyed. Better to ask them my question now, while they’re taken aback, than later. So I ask, “Have you two ever had a pack?”
They look at each other, neither of them speaking for a moment. Eventually, Port looks at me and shakes his head. There’s a certain sadness in his eyes. I humph quietly and sip my wine, waiting for one of them to speak.
When neither of them does, I say, “Well, that’s a surprise.”
“Why?” Max asks, incredulous.
“I think you’d be good to have around, is all. You seem loyal to each other, you can fight, and now–” I smirk “–that you know you can’t beat me in combat, you’re sure to not challenge my status as the Alpha leader.”
Max snorts, but Port nods enthusiastically. “It’s true,” Port says, “I would never challenge you. Especially not now.” He elbows Max under the table, trying in vain to hide the gesture from me, and Max all but rolls his eyes yet again – but does nod.
“To be clear, I don’t mind a challenge, as long as it’s in good sport. And as long as you’re both fine with losing.”
Again, Max rolls his eyes (can he express himself in any other way). “You’ve only fought us today, and you should know Cory that neither of us have been training.”
“Well, why in the Realm haven’t you been?” I ask, daring him to debate me.
Instead, though, Max and Port exchange a small, somber glance. Max looks at me, opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He settles for a shrug, and Port sighs.
“I think,” Port says, “Max means to say that we’re not exactly sure if it’s safe for us to train right now.”
I frown quietly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Did you miss the part where we’re running away from assassins?” Max scoffs.
“Max!” Port exclaims.
He’s treading on thin ice, speaking so carelessly to me, but I’ll give him a chance to turn it around before I snap. I sigh heavily, keeping my composure, and shake my head. “I didn’t miss that, no,” I say. “I didn’t ever hear from you two, though, how much danger you’re actually in.”
“We’re cursed, is how much danger we’re in,” Max grumbles.
I turn to Port for confirmation, and he nods quietly before staring down at the table.
“Well, that won’t do.”
“Yeah, you don’t say!” Max cries out, angrily.
At that outburst, I jump up at my seat and send my chair flying back. “Enough!” my voice booms. “I have welcomed you both here graciously . I have been patient while you shoot your snarky comments at me, Max. I let you off easy in our fight earlier. And you repay me, what, with hostility and ungratefulness?”
Port’s eyes are wide, but Max stares silently down at the table.
“Well? Speak!” I shout at Max.
His head flies up to face me, and I see terror gathering in his eyes. I waver for a second, a moment of genuine concern flying through my senses, before I harden again –they don’t need weakness right now, neither of them. They need a leader, and if I’m the most godsdamned irritating leader they’ve encountered, so be it. At least they’ll be protected if I am strong.
“Max,” I say, voice still as stone. “Don’t wrong me, and I will ensure your safety. Yours and Port’s. I swear to the Realm, I will protect you. Let me help you, damn it!”
He takes a sharp breath and Port pats his back quietly, but he pulls away, rejecting any comfort from his best friend. But then he takes another deep breath in, albeit shakily, and eventually nods. “I’m not used to needing anyone,” he says “other than Port.”
“Well, get used to it,” I say, cracking a tentative smile. “A true alpha leader will do anything to protect others, be strong so you don’t have to be, be there to fight your daemons with you, not judge you for it.”
Max shakes his head, but a hint of a smile appears on his lips. Port’s eyes are shiny with relief – or gratefulness, I’m not sure –and he claps Max on the back again, heartily this time.
I look at both of them appraisingly before turning to Port and holding out a hand to him. “Pack?” I say.
Port looks, eyes wide, at Max. Max seems as shocked as him, though, and after a moment Port turns away from him. He takes my hand, his own shaking slightly, and says, “Pack.”
I turn to Max, then, smiling gladly. “Pack?” I ask again.
Max’s eyes are full of some indiscernible emotion, but he quickly masks it with a casual aloofness. He smirks at me, takes my hand, and says, “Alright, pack.”
“Say it well, now,” I instruct him.
He sighs, but finally says firmly, “Pack.”
“Now to each other,” I tell them.
Port laughs and faces a now-smiling Max, and they clasp each others’ hands. “Pack?” I ask them once more. “Pack!” they reply in unison. I stand up from the table and move around to them, clapping them both on the back as they laugh broadly. Port clasps me tightly, eyes sparkling with secret emotion. Max shakes my hand firmly, and nods to cement the new bond.
“What now?” Port asks after a moment.
I think for a second before saying, “Now, I suppose I have to drink you both under the table.”
They laugh again, and we all finish our glasses of wine together, before pouring more.
It will be a good night.