6. Vael-Torin
VAEL-TORIN
I am entirely undone.
The morning sun filters into the strange cavernous space under the tree’s roots, casting a glow over the female sleeping against my chest. Her head’s nestled into the juncture of my shoulder, her breathing deep and even.
The fever of her mating heat has banked for the moment, replaced by the intoxicating fragrance of her satisfaction from her release last night.
I watch the delicate movement of her face, mesmerized.
Last night, she did not look at my early release with disgust.
She did not mock the undisciplined skithing of my cock.
No, she looked at me with a fierce light in her eyes, took her own pleasure in front of me, and claimed my name with her lips.
Pah-pee. The strange syllables echo in my mind. She is… better than anything I could have imagined. Not even in my wildest dreams did I think the most beautiful of the humans would pick me for her mate.
She is a wingless queen who already commands my heart with a single flutter of her lashes.
Paah-pee stirs, a groggy grunt escaping her pink lips as her eyes flutter open. Her auburn hair is a chaotic wild bush around her face, and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"Good morning, Paah-pee," I rumble. Her cheek smooshes harder against my chest, and my heart gives a painful squeeze.
She blinks up at me, squinting in the bright morning light, and then her gaze automatically drops to the earth beside our root cave.
Sitting in the mud are her strange pink foot-weapons. The once bright fluff is now matted with mud, the delicate fiber flattened into a sad ruin. The single remaining heel-peg is sunk deep into a patch of dirt, completely useless for combat.
Perhaps that is why she chose me. She knew her alien mate would be able to protect her, and these strange shoes are proof of her belief in me.
Pride sings through me.
Until she lets out a tragic sigh, her mouth turning down into a pout that makes my tail instinctively twitch with the urge to comfort her. She makes a move to slide out of my lap, the impossibly soft skin of her bare feet hovering over the forest floor.
"No," I growl, my arm tightening around her waist like a steel band. “You will only hurt yourself, Pah-pee.”
She freezes, looking up at me with irritation all over her gorgeous face.
She points to her feet, then to the path ahead, making a walking motion with her fingers.
It is adorable.
Still, I shake my head with absolute finality.
I reach down, picking up one of the ruined pink fluffy torture devices by its strap, holding it up between us.
"These are structurally compromised," I tell her, my voice grave.
"The defensive fluff is ruined. One peg is shattered.
Your skin is too thin for the jagged stones of this moon.
You will not walk." I puff my chest out. “Not when I can carry you.”
She rolls her eyes so hard terror grips me.
Is she having a—no. They return to their normal orientation.
Blinking, I stare at them. “Is this a human trait? Do you attempt to detach your eyes?”
She tries to grab her shoes again, but I hold her firm. Her mouth mutters something in her odd language—no doubt a thank you for saving her—as I hoist her fully into my arms.
Adjusting her against my chest, I cradle her in a secure carry, tucking her curved thighs over my forearm. I can’t help but to squeeze them. “You are so soft here,” I tell her. “It makes me want to bite you. I cannot wait to bury myself in your softness, and claim you for all time.”
She lets out another huff, chittering away, but then her small hands find the scales of my neck. Her fingers curl into my neck as she relaxes her weight completely against me.
Good. This is how it should be.
Pah-pee’s absolute trust makes my Draegon instincts hum with satisfaction. I pull my wings in tight, shielding her bare legs from the biting morning wind, and step out of the root cave onto the path.
They tried to tell us it would be a survival endeavor, but there’s no doubt in my mind that these paths have been cleared in advance. A youngling could tell this was a path, let alone a trained warrior like myself.
I would rather fly.
“There would be no need for these idiotic paths if they let me use my wings,” I tell her.
She doesn’t answer, just watches me with wide eyes.
“It is very stupid, this entire concept. I know I was sent here because the mad king on my planet decided I was no longer loyal, but that doesn’t mean I am suddenly incapable of winning this strange competition.
I still have no doubt it is a trap of some sort.
” I narrow my eyes, waiting for said trap.
It does not appear.
We have been walking for less than twenty minutes when a computerized chime echoes from the sky.
A silver drone plunges through the tree tops, hovering a few feet ahead of us. A mechanical voice crackles from its speakers.
"Attention, contestants. You have two hours to reach the primary waypoint stage to select your first televised challenge.
Failure to arrive before the countdown expires will result in immediate forfeiture of the round and your translation rewards.
Travel by air is strictly prohibited. Proceed to the coordinates immediately. "
The drone projects a small, blinking red arrow into the dirt ahead, pointing deeper into the rocky ravine, before zipping back up into the clouds.
I look down at Poppy. Her face is slightly pale, her jaw tight as she looks in the direction of the arrow.
We cannot communicate; we cannot share a strategy.
But as she looks up at me, her fingers tightening against my neck scales, a low, fierce rumble builds in my chest.
I am a warrior. I will not allow distance or deadlines to stand between my female and our victory. I tighten my grip on her lush hips, lengthen my stride, and begin to run.
I will not squander this gift of a female in my arms.