Chapter 11
Rook
I had no clue why I’d told her about Alina. I’d meant to simply chase her out of this room before she could damage anything, or wash away the last traces of the woman who’d shared my home for thirty years.
Alina had been as different from Kaylee as it was possible to be.
She’d been meek when she arrived, taking months to come out of her shell and realize I had no interest in tormenting her, or forcing her to share my bed.
The ‘offering a virgin to appease the dragon’ myth the humans had started centuries ago had a lot to answer for.
Then again, those weren’t myths for most of my kind.
Alina, like those before her, had been shocked and relieved to discover I wasn’t some sex crazed beast waiting to pounce and rut her against her will.
It would be nice if we rutted someone, my dragon griped, but we both knew it wasn’t going to happen.
I had no interest in taking a mate, and no interest in rutting someone purely to pass the time.
Alina had come to see that, and she’d found a solace in her work here, taking pride in her cooking and in making the house gleam more than any dragon’s fangs.
It had broken her heart to watch dust and grime winning the battle she’d fought for most of her life, and I suspect that had pained her more than the disease eating away at her.
Once she became bed-bound, I’d made it a point to keep this room clean—much to her amusement—and had done ever since.
But I didn’t want to think about that right now.
I got to my feet with a sigh, and smoothed the bed sheet out behind me.
The truth was, I’d been lonely since Alina had passed, and yes, I’d grieved my friend.
But I’d been lonely for a long time before we’d become friends, and it hadn’t killed me.
That was what made getting close to the staff so dangerous.
Their lives were short, while mine would go on for near-countless years—a ‘blessing’ of my particular species—and building friendships with mortals gave me feelings I had no business feeling.
Like happiness?
Feel happy right now, do you, beast? I snapped as I slipped out of the door, pulling it softly shut behind me. I drew in a breath of the clean air, devoid of the lingering scent of Alina’s death, and shook my head.
You should not keep torturing yourself.
He wasn’t wrong. If Gaheris’s intel was good, there might soon be a whole hoard of dragons waiting to do that for me.
We must prepare for the inevitable battle.
I wasn’t so sure about the inevitable part—if there was a way to avoid a war, then I intended to take it.
My existence here might not be perfect, but it was peaceful, and that was close enough.
Just because I’d live a naturally long life didn’t mean it couldn’t be cut short by a well-place blade or fang, and Uther’s warriors were experts at finding their mark.
I’d sooner not face them in battle, nor have them tearing apart my home.
Or a certain shifter within it?
Kaylee’s life is neither here nor there. She’s not the reason I don’t want to fight.
If you say so.
I raked my hand through my hair. My dragon was right: I didn’t want to witness a death in my home so soon after the last. But he wanted to read more into it than what it was: a simple desire for a peaceful existence.
I’d seen enough death—hell, caused enough death—during in the war to last me a lifetime, I had no need of more of it here in my own sanctuary.
What I didn’t understand was why he was so obsessed with her.
I knew it wasn’t because he shared my war weariness.
She is different.
I snorted. Since when are you the expert on wolf shifters?
Since when are you?
Well, he had me there. I knew almost nothing of wolf shifters—other than how to kill them—and no interest in changing that.
Alina’s friendship, whilst treasured, didn’t change my opinion of the rest of her species.
They were nothing but trouble, and I only kept claiming my Tribute from the pack for the sake of appearances.
And because you can’t operate a mop.
I grunted in acknowledgement. It was convenient to have someone handle the day-to-day chores, but despite what I’d told Kaylee, a human would have been more than sufficient for the task.
Some even worshipped dragons—granted, few, after my brethren had terrorized them for a few centuries, but human memories were short.
It would have been easy enough to lure one here with the promise of food and shelter.
But the pack owed me a debt, and I couldn’t appear to let it go uncollected.
No matter how little regard I had for Uther, his power couldn’t be ignored, and appearances had to be kept up.
From without, at least. There was a reason few dragons were ever invited into my personal space, and it wasn’t just because my beast was highly territorial.
Most of my kind would not approve of my lifestyle.
The fact that I was reclusive enough that the pack on my land—forbidden to leave it by law—saw me seldom enough for its young generations to believe I was a myth would be incomprehensible to them.
Many of my kind lived for adoration, or to torment the lesser species.
I had no such interest, and some might mistake that for weakness.
Weakness invited attacks, and attacks disrupted my peace.
I had no interest in the politics of this new world, but I was starting to get the sense they were taking an interest in me.
With an irritated snarl, I stalked along the corridor, following the wolf’s scent until I tracked her to the kitchen—her preferred daytime hideaway, though I had no idea why, given the chaos she caused here.
Her brow was furrowed in a little ‘v’ of concentration as she carefully savaged what might once have been a rutabaga with a bread knife.
“What did you do for work in your pack?”
She jumped with a yelp and spun around to glare at me, brandishing the bread knife in front of her. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and gave her the kind of smug look I knew riled her.
“I think we can safely assume it was neither cooking nor security,” I said, arching my brow at her weapon of choice.
“Hey, if you wanted someone who could cook, then maybe you should have abducted the pack’s chef, did you ever think of that?” she demanded, still glaring at me as she tossed the knife down on the worktop.
I frowned. “Do you mean to tell me there’s only one person in your pack who can cook? It’d hardly be fair if I took them as Tribute now, would it? I might condemn your entire pack to starve.”
She sent a filthy look in my direction, and I swallowed the chuckle that threatened to slip out, and this time, my frown was at myself. I wasn’t supposed to be getting close to the wolf, or finding her company amusing. I had no interest in forming that kind of bond with the staff again.
“I’m going out,” I told her abruptly. “Try not to accidentally kill yourself while I’m gone.”
She opened her mouth to spit what I’m sure she believed would be a witty retort, and I cut across her, meeting her eye with a glare. “And do not make me come looking for you when I get back. Leaving the grounds has consequences that you do not want to discover.”
With that, I turned on my heel and marched away, making straight for the front door. It was time to get this over with.
You are being unnecessarily harsh with her.
And you’re being too damned soft, dragon.
You’re being cruel.
My stride faltered. Was I? Had my attempts to keep myself from getting close to the girl crossed over into the territory of cruelty? I shook my head, clearing it of the ridiculous notion.
You need a good fight, I told my dragon. You’re turning into a bunny.
I felt a tingle of anticipation run through him at the mention of a fight, and for a moment, the bloodlust I’d worshipped for centuries roared through my mind, urging me to unleash myself, my dragon, on whatever creature dared to defy us.
To soar through the air on dark wings, raining death and terror on those below.
To taste their panic in my maw, to rend flesh with wickedly sharp talons as screams of pain and pleas for mercy fell on death ears, bathing my soul in a cacophony of—
I drew in a sharp breath, getting a hold on myself. Not today. There might come a time to be that version of myself again, but that time was not today. Today was just a preview.
The front door opened into my vast courtyard, and it wasn’t until I was fully clear of the building that I reached into myself and drew my dragon form to the surface.
The change rushed over me seamlessly—one breath I wore the flesh of man, the next, dragon.
With one last warning glare at the house—and the little wolf lurking somewhere within—I flared my wings and beat them twice, launching myself effortlessly into the air.
The sky embraced me like an old lover, drawing me home into its welcoming expanse. I felt my dragon’s amusement at the direction of my thoughts, and peeled back my lips in a snarl.
Yes. Taste your rage. Vent it.
My mouth opened wide and a roar erupted from it, echoing across the mountain.
In the semi-distance I heard birds squawk in alarm, and deer bolt in panic.
Instinctively they understood that I meant danger and death, but they weren’t my prey.
Not today, at any rate. Though the way my little wolf was working through my meat supplies, bringing home a deer might not be such a bad idea.
On the other hand, I’d seen her going at the rutabaga with that bread knife.
I didn’t have the first idea what she’d try if I dropped an undressed deer carcass in front of her. But a part of me wanted to find out.