Chapter 3 Alessia #2
"Because I have to be," I admit. "Because if I let myself believe that this is all there is, that we will never complete our bond, then I will lose the hope that has sustained me through these difficult years.
And I cannot afford to lose that hope, my love.
Our people need us to believe, even when they cannot. "
Zara is quiet for a long moment. I can feel her processing my words, turning them over and over as she tries to search for a strategic way to approach the situation, always thinking three moves ahead.
But sometimes her intelligence works against her, allowing her to see all the ways something might fail rather than the possibilities for success.
“The guard who sent the Alpha back,” I say through the link, changing the subject slightly. “Which one was it?”
“Torren. Young, barely past their first century. But fierce and competent. They burned the Alpha's sword hand badly enough that he will bear the scars until his body decays. Sent that wolf back to Valoria with his tail between his legs. He wouldn’t have survived long but hopefully Valoria will understand the warning that came with his loss of life.”
"Good," I say approvingly. "Perhaps eventually, their king will tire of sending warriors to their deaths and the incursions will stop."
“Or perhaps he will decide we are too great a threat and send an army instead of individuals.”
I pull back to look at her, meeting those massive dragon eyes that glow with inner fire.
"Then we will face an army and show them why dragons are not to be trifled with.
But I do not think it will come to that.
This king, Frederik of Valoria, he is not a military tactician.
He is a greedy fool grasping at legends.
He sends these Alphas because he believes the old tales about dragon hoards, about the power that comes from slaying a dragon.
He thinks that whoever returns with one of our heads will gain access to unimaginable wealth and magical power. "
“He is not entirely wrong about the power,” Zara points out. “Dragon blood, dragon bone, dragon scale. All of it holds magic. If they knew how to harness it properly, they could indeed gain significant power from killing one of us.”
"But they do not know how," I counter, growing slightly frustrated with her.
"And we are not going to teach them. These Alphas who come, they are not scholars or mages.
They are warriors drunk on tales of glory, believing that strength of arms alone will be sufficient.
They do not understand that magic requires knowledge, ritual, intention.
They think our power can be taken by force, and they are wrong. "
I stand up from the bed, the silk gown flowing around me as I move. I stretch my arms above my head, feeling the pull of my muscles. "Come," I say, both aloud and through the link. "Shift back, my love. Let me see your human form. Let me touch you properly."
Zara's dragon form begins to shimmer, magic swirling around her in visible currents of power.
I watch with appreciation as she transforms, her massive body shrinking and reforming, scales giving way to smooth dark skin, claws retracting into human fingers and toes.
It takes only moments, though the process always seems to stretch out in my perception, time slowing as I witness the miracle of shapeshifting.
When the magic clears, Zara stands before me in her human form, only a few inches taller than my nearly six feet, all delicious curves and powerful presence.
She is bare to me, as we always are immediately after shifting, and she makes no move to cover herself.
Why would she? This is our hall, our kingdom, our space.
Her long black hair falls past her shoulders in sleek, straight lines, her dark brown eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. Even after all our years together, she affects me this way. One look from her, and I feel both treasured and desired, seen and claimed.
"Better," I say, moving closer to her. The difference between us has always amused me. I am all soft curves and golden warmth, while she is lean muscle and fierce protection. We could not be more different in appearance, and yet we fit together perfectly.
Zara's hands come up to cup my face, her thumbs stroking across my cheekbones with a gentleness that belies her spirit. This is the side of her that few others see. The soft underbelly beneath the fierce exterior. The tender lover behind the fearsome warrior.
"You always know how to calm me," she murmurs, leaning down to press her forehead against mine. "Even when I am spiraling into fury and frustration, you bring me back."
"That is what we do for each other," I reply, my hands settling on her waist. "You ground me when I drift too far into dreams and hope. I soothe you when your fire burns too hot."
"I just want to protect you," she whispers, her lips ghosting over mine, an ache in her voice that makes my heart twist. "I want to protect our people.
And I feel helpless against this slow decline, this gradual fading of our prosperity.
I can fight external threats, but how do I fight against the loss of hope? How do I battle prophecy and fate?"
"You do not fight it alone," I tell her. "We face it together, as we face everything. And we trust that the magic knows what it is doing, even when we cannot see the path forward clearly."
She sighs and pulls me closer, wrapping her arms around me and holding me against her chest. I press my ear over her heart, allowing myself to relax into her arms. This is home to me.
Not the castle, not the throne, not even Embrath itself.
Home is wherever Zara is, wherever I can hear her heartbeat and feel her warmth surrounding me.
"The prophecy speaks of a golden Omega," Zara says after a moment.
"Not literally golden, presumably. An Omega of great power or significance.
An Omega who will bridge worlds or unite peoples or some other grand destiny.
But what if they do not want to be found?
What if they are content where they are and have no interest in completing a triad with two dragon queens they have never met? "
It is a fair question, one I have considered many times myself. The prophecy speaks of fate and destiny, but it does not account for free will. It does not consider that our theoretical third might have their own life, their own loves, their own desires that do not include us.
"Then we will respect their choice," I say simply.
"We cannot force a mating bond. The magic does not work that way.
It requires willingness from all parties.
If we find our Omega and they do not wish to join with us, then perhaps the prophecy was misinterpreted, or perhaps we are not the queens it spoke of after all.
" I would hate to tell my people that they would need to wait for the next reign but it indeed might be the next queens and not us after all.
Zara's arms tighten around me. "I do not want anyone else. I want you, Alessia. If there is no third, if it is only ever the two of us, I will count myself blessed. You are enough for me."
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. "And you are enough for me, my fierce love. But I still hope. I hope because I feel that there is someone out there who needs us as much as we might need them. I hope because giving up feels like accepting defeat. I hope because what else can I do?"
We stand there in the middle of the royal hall, holding each other as the afternoon sun paints golden rectangles across the floor. Outside these walls, the kingdom continues its daily patterns. Life goes on, with or without prophecies, with or without completed mating bonds.
But inside this moment, there is only us.
Zara shifts, and suddenly I am being swept up into her arms. I let out a surprised laugh as she carries me back to the bed, laying me down on the silk and cushions. She climbs onto the mattress beside me, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at me.
"What are you doing?" I ask, though I can sense her emotions through our bond. Desire. Need. The urge to connect physically, to reaffirm our partnership through touch and pleasure.
"I am reminding myself what I have rather than focusing on what I lack," she says, her free hand trailing down my arm, following the curve of my waist. "I am appreciating my beautiful wife who believes in prophecies and magic even when I struggle to hold onto faith."
I shiver beneath her touch, heat pooling low in my belly. "I like where this is going."
"I thought you might," she says with a slight smirk, that confident expression that makes her look simultaneously dangerous and devastatingly attractive.
Zara gently flips me onto my side so that my back presses against her front. I feel her warmth along every inch of my spine, the soft press of her breasts against my shoulder blades, and the strength in the arm that wraps around my waist.
Then her tongue drags up the side of my neck in one long, claiming stroke, and I cannot suppress the soft sound that escapes my throat. Her hand moves up to cup my breast through the thin silk of my gown, thumb brushing over my nipple in a way that makes me arch into her touch.
"Does my queen need to fuck me?" I ask, loving the way my breathy voice echoes through the hall. "Would that help calm you, my love?"
A low, rich vibrates against my ear. "I do not have my equipment for that right now, but I will watch you come undone on my fingers, my queen. Over and over and over again."
I smile, heat and anticipation curling through me. "I like the sound of that."