CHAPTER 15 CORY
M agnolia and lavender whistle past my nose as I pace about the volcano’s caverns awaiting Max and Port’s return, and I realize the faery is nearer than she’s ever been.
Max and Port have been settling well into the volcano, but I’ve been on edge since I realized something has been attacking Ethelinda. I’ve been slowly going insane, smelling the faery’s tenseness sharpen and crack, knowing that I can’t leave my dominion to help her. That means, if she can’t manage the evil forces harming the land, she’ll have to come to me.
It’s a terrifying (albeit arousing) prospect, the idea of this delicate, feminine creature here; she’d no doubt charm all the volcano’s guardians, as she’s already won me over. She’d probably have a laugh that glitters, and a smile that brings bliss as much as it wreaks devastation.
I was torn between wanting her to need me and wanting her to handle the town’s issues on her own. The volcano’s guardians haven’t intervened in centuries, and my family made it clear to me before I ended up in charge that that was not to change.
We can never show them who we are, never open up to anyone outside the volcano. If we ever are to interfere with the central Ethelindan issues, we must do so as a force of intense destruction and brutality. I wouldn’t relish it, per say, but I’d get it done. I’d have to.
Duty and honor above everything else. I haven’t let anyone in, ever. My dad would kill me if he knew I’d accepted Port and Max – I can’t even imagine how he’d respond at the sight of this faery, this girl warming her way into my heart after no time at all.
And anyway, even if she’d left me no choice but to intervene, I didn’t expect her to actually come here . Just my luck, too, that she makes her grand arrival right as my two new foolhardy packmates are play-fighting in the forest outside the volcano.
I realize, with a horrible start, that Port and Max might have already found her. The rage hits me in a blink, and I think, if they hurt her... I don’t even let myself finish the thought. The flames already sparking from my fingertips complete the sentiment for me. I would have hoped to have more optimistic subconscious expectations of Max and Port, and I think I do trust them, as much as can be expected at this point.
This woman just does something to me.
Before I do anything rash (even though I’m already smoldering and smoking with repressed agitation), I have to think . It’s nearly impossible to, through the sensual mist of blooming lavender and magnolia, but I try. I focus on what I know, first. One: Mili is coming closer, probably coming to the volcano. Two: Max and Port know Mili’s scent, and they’re out in the forest; this means that they can reach Mili first, and probably have already. Three: Max and Port shouldn’t betray me, now that we’re pack. Finally, four: I want to fuck this faery so badly that I can’t even think.
I sigh and quickly get the attention of one of the volcano’s keepers, a small guardian named Mordtre. He scurries over to me on his small feet, and I force a smile as he beams up at me.
“Yes, Corinthian?” he asks beatifically.
I laugh genuinely, then, and reply, “Mordtre, you know you can call me ‘Cory.’”
“Of course, Corinthian,” he winks up at me. I sigh, still smiling –try as I might to foster a casual, friendly relationship with the guardians, Mordtre has always treated me with a solid, slick layer of polite reverence.
“The gates, if you will.”
Mordtre nods quickly and hurries off to open the gates. As soon as they start to swing open, the wave of Mili’s scent rushes over me like a crashing wave. Lavender, verbena, magnolia vanilla, tonka bean – all of these flood my body and mind, and my eyes flash closed with the overwhelming sensation.
I hear Mordtre call out, “Corinthian!” and open my eyes to see a smallish faery woman sprinting wildly through the gate. Everything slows down and I realize, it’s her . Milica. I feel my eyes light up at the sight of her, and I take her in in a flash of consciousness. I can’t believe I can finally lay my eyes on her.
Her hair is, perhaps, the first thing I notice; it’s long and black, her waves whirl chaotically about her supple frame as she runs into the volcano. Then, I look at her face through the flashes of black locks; it’s a curious combination of soft and angular. Her chin is pointed, and her nose is sharp, but her lips are curved sweetly and her eyes sloped gently upward. Her big brown eyes areradiant with life. Life and ... terror?
It’s then that I realize she’s running, not for any reason, but out of survival instinct. I then register Mordtre’s scream to me, trying to warn me, and realize he must think the faery is a danger to me. If he thinks she’s trying to harm me, then – oh gods.
He’s going to open the floor.
I shift instantly to my dragon form, and leap into the depths that Mili’s plunging into. The cavern is untamed and craggy, and I watch as her body (which is limp, as she’s fallen unconscious from shock and fear) tumbles into one of the rocky crags in the wall. I roar violently as I send a shockwave of air flying out behind me, sending myself shooting towards her with a thrust of my wings.
Just before she collides with another protuberance, I wrap her protectively in my wings and the two of us fall with a resounding crash into the wall. I tighten myself around her, encircling her entirely as we skid to the end of a shelf in the wall.
We finally stop as we strike another cavern wall firmly, but I don’t let go of her limp frame until I stop shaking. After that, I quickly shift back to human form to inspect her for injuries. I move her limbs gingerly, checking them carefully – and find an alarming amount of cuts and gashes. She’s hurt, pretty badly, by the looks of it.
“Godsdamnit!” I scream out to nothing in particular. Milica does not stir.
From about a hundred paces above, I hear Max call down to me, “Cory, are you okay?”
“Max, I’m going to kill you if you don’t get the Realm away from me!” I bellow back up to him. It’s not a nice thing to say, I know, but Milica is hurt badly and I’m sure she was running from these two idiots.
“Cory, we’re so sorry–” Port starts.
“ Please! ” I call out. “I can’t – I can’t talk to you two right now.” My voice cracks under the pressure of the situation, and as I look up I see Port and Max give each other a knowing, guilty glance. The two of them turn and walk away, and I bury my head in Milica’s hair. It smells like her, but muted, since she’s not awake.
I check quickly and see that she is breathing, thank the Realm – I forgot to check earlier in my panic, stupid man that I am –so I scoop her again in my arms and quickly move to shift into my dragon form. I fly us both up and out of the cavern, rushing her through the cinder cone’s labyrinth of passageways until we’re in my private quarters.
–––
She looks good on my bed , I think to myself. I quickly force the suggestive thoughts from my mind and sit beside her. With a mind of its own, my hand reaches for hers. It feels so small in my own; the image of a baby bird in a nest comes to mind. I think how fragile of a faery she must be, and my heart swells with protectiveness and dominance. Damn alpha instincts.
I don’t really know how to heal, except how my dragon self would. I need to start licking her wounds. The only problem is if she wakes up to me licking her, she might never trust me again. Well, maybe that’s not the only problem. I have to shift to heal her and I don’t want to think what will happen if she wakes up to a giant dragon who’s on top of her and ... who’s vigorously licking her up and down.
Then I look down at Mili’s still body, lying entirely helpless before me, and I realize (decorum be damned) that there’s no other choice.
I stroke her hand with my thumb for a minute more, then I start gently pulling her ripped clothes up. I don’t entirely remove them, Realm knows what she’d think if I did, but I expose the greatest of her injuries. She winces softly in her sleep and I grimace at the sight of it.
Then I start to heal her. She moans softly as I first touch my tongue to her body. I start with her cheek, where a small scrape has marred her beautiful caramel skin, tanned from all her time in the sun, and lift her chin tenderly to stroke all the way up it to her brow. Pulling back a bit reveals my saliva already making quick work of the injury; the flesh pulls together as if compelled by magick.
Spurred on by the sight of it already working, I move to her arms, circling her battered elbow and moving smoothly down to her wrist. Her beautiful summer smell up close is so exquisite. The taste of her skin, even through sweat and blood, is so satisfying. I hold her hand in mine and lift her arm as I go, and there’s a sudden image of the two of us dancing a waltz somewhere far, far from here; Mili and I, and perhaps Max and Port, too, at peace and in tender embrace.
I shake the thought off and keep working. An hour passes like that, with me licking her wounds and watching her for any sign of movement. I worry horribly that she won’t wake up at all, just as she starts to stir.
Before she makes any movement, I hear her moaning. A soft, guttural groan emanates from the depth of her throat, and my cock leaps viciously at the sound of it. I grunt in irritation with myself, my inability to control myself around her. Then she moans again, louder this time, and I inhale shakily from the effort of repressing my groin’s movement.
After a few minutes of her quiet expressions of arousal, I see her eyes flutter open. I imagine, for a split second, her smiling softly at me in gratitude.
What other reaction can she possibly have?!