Chapter 2
Fergus
I had finally found him, and now he slept on my bed, his golden hair spread out around his head like sunbeams. Exhausted, he let me give him something to drink and feed him in the short moments he managed to remain half-conscious.
He gulped the cool water from the cup I held by his lips, then sank back onto the pillow. I brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, and his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. His red-rimmed blue eyes blinked up at me, puzzled.
“Who are you?” he rasped.
“My name is Fergus. I found you in the forest.”
He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t remember you. I remember a creature with wings, hot breath… Big claws. A demon took me.”
“You fainted, Gillam.”
“I must have been dreaming.”
Was he aware he was leaning into my touches? I traced his cheek with my thumb, and he kept staring at me drowsily. “I know you,” he said. “You smell familiar.”
I smiled. He was responding to my scent already. “We met in the palace park. You might not remember. You lost your glove.”
“And you returned it to me. You rode a black horse.”
“That’s correct.”
I’d chosen him that night—after one whiff of his scent, the dragon knew Gillam was my mate.
I would have competed for him and won. Except his snake of a father, our king, had decided to forfeit the traditional tournament and give his son to one of his lords, no doubt as a payment for loyalty.
Gillam had run away before I could make my claim and challenge Buer to a fight.
“Who are you?”
“I live at the foot of the mountain. You’re in my home.”
Tired as he was, he didn’t even notice I avoided his question. A shallow crease appeared on his smooth forehead. “The journey must have taken days.”
“I’m fast.”
He looked at me curiously, but soon his eyes closed. I petted him, and he fell asleep again.
His scent was changing fast, his heat nearing, but he slept peacefully. I hoped he’d feel safe with me when the time came.