Chapter 53 Irena
IRENA
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
This is the first time I’ve truly laid eyes on Valen’s Dragon—not just a glimpse while clinging to his back during a desperate escape or a vague impression in the dark. Now… now I see him.
And Goddess, he is magnificent.
His scales shimmer in the candlelight of the Sorceress’s vast banquet hall—deep crimson, each one edged in gold as though outlined in fire.
His body is long and lean, sleek with power, his wings folded at his sides like elegant fans.
Steam curls from his nostrils in soft white puffs as he exhales, the heat of his inner flame escaping into the air.
The scent of him—warm metal and smoke and something wilder, older—makes my skin prickle.
And his eyes…I could fall into them forever.
One huge golden eye, the size of a dinner plate, focuses on me.
The pupil is a vertical slit, inhuman but not unkind.
It watches me with a strange intensity, as though seeing not just my face but into the very marrow of who I am.
I feel it like a stroke down my spine, electric and undeniable. That gaze holds no hate…no violence.
Only longing.
My breath catches in my throat and I feel it like a whisper in my bones.
“He… he wants to meet me,” I breathe, not even realizing I’m speaking aloud.
“Then go and meet him,” the Sorceress urges, rising gracefully from the table to come stand beside me. Her voice is rich with amusement and certainty. “Believe me, he would have no interest in you if you were not a powerful magician. Magic calls to magic, my dear.”
My legs are moving before my mind catches up. Powerful magician? Is that what I am? Is that why I can feel his emotions like they’re my own? I don’t know—but I do know I can’t stay away from him a moment longer.
I walk toward the huge dragon slowly, my slippered feet silent on the polished floor. He lowers his massive head, resting his chin gently on the ground so our eyes are level. His head alone is bigger than my entire body…and yet, somehow I’m not afraid.
“Hello,” I whisper.
I should be frightened—I know this. I was raised to fear dragons, to believe they were mindless beasts of destruction that wanted only to burn everything in their path—things to be fought, caged, and killed.
But none of that feels true in this moment. What I feel from Valen’s dragon is gentleness…curiosity.
And longing.
“He’s been waiting to meet me,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.
“Touch him,” the Sorceress says softly beside me. “Stroke him—he wants you to.”
“I know,” I breathe.
I reach out, my hand trembling slightly, and touch his enormous head. I stroke over the massive eye ridge, and find that his scales there are warm and soft—not at all like I expected. Not sharp or hard, but like petals warmed by sunlight.
The massive golden eye closes halfway and I feel it—I feel his pleasure—his ecstasy at my touch. Not just in the faint twitch of his tail or the flare of his nostrils, but deep inside my own chest. A glowing warmth rises in me, radiant and full of need.
And beneath it, I feel another presence. Valen. I feel him too. His thoughts are faint but definitely there.
Don’t scare her. Be gentle with her, he’s telling the Drake. His Drake. Himself? Somehow they are two beings in one body…and at the same time they’re the same person. It’s like the Drake is the wilder part of him—the part that’s all emotion with very few words.
“Don’t worry—he won’t hurt me,” I say aloud, my eyes still locked with that beautiful golden gaze. “He just wants to be close, don’t you?”
The rush of eager agreement that floods my body nearly knocks me off balance. Oh yes, the Drake wants to be with me—he wants that desperately.
“What do you feel, my dear?” the Sorceress asks softly. “What does the Drake want?”
I look at the giant creature in front of me.
“He wants to cuddle with me,” I whisper, stroking his snout. “Sorry, big fella—I'm afraid you’re a little too big for cuddling.”
“But he doesn’t have to be,” the Sorceress says brightly.
“What?” I blink at her.
“The ring of power you wear should have come with three commands. Did it not?”
“Yes.” I nod slowly. “Be ye Still, Be ye Silent, and Be ye Smoll,” I recite in the Old Tongue.
“Then why not use the third spell to make him small enough to cuddle?” she asks.
I wince.
“Because… it feels like someone driving a metal spike into my eye. It really hurts when I use it.”
“Ah.” She taps a finger to her chin. “That would have been because he was resisting you at the time. Was he not?”
“Well… yes. We had just met and…” I feel a wave of shame. “My brother had him chained in our dungeon. So he was angry. And he had every right to be.”
I look at the Drake, whose eye watches me patiently.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should have let you go a long time ago—not just to heal my mother, but because it was wrong to keep you chained. I’m so sorry.”
I feel his emotions wash over me again—warm, radiant forgiveness. The sudden flood brings tears to my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat tight as I blink them away. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
“Go on, my dear,” the Sorceress urges. “Try it now—make him small enough to cuddle with. He won’t fight you this time.”
I hesitate, searching that great golden eye.
“Do you mind?” I ask softly.
I don’t hear words, but I feel his assent. And Valen’s too.
“It’s all right,” I hear him say in my mind. “We won’t fight you this time, Princess.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
I draw in a breath, center myself, and speak the words aloud.
“Be ye Smoll.”
Power flows from the silver ring on my finger. This time, it doesn’t hurt. There’s no spike of pain in my skull—no draining, weakening sensation. Only a warm rush, like water flowing through me. I channel it into him—into the magnificent creature before me—and watch, breathless.
At first nothing happens but then…the dragon begins to shrink.
First he goes to the size of a cottage…then he shrinks to the size of a large draft horse. Then a pony and finally he’s the size of a very large dog.
And I can’t help noticing he’s beautiful at every size.
I can still feel his eagerness. I wait but he doesn’t move—just trembles slightly, holding still, his golden eyes locked on mine.
“Come here,” I say softly, holding out my arms.
With a joyful chuff, he bounds toward me, twining around my legs like an enormous cat before rearing up on his hind legs and placing his massive front paws on my shoulders. I laugh and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight.
He’s hot—his scales radiate warmth like a sun-heated stone—and he smells like fire and spice. His long forked tail whips back and forth in delight as he nuzzles against me.
Beside me, the Sorceress chuckles.
“My goodness, my dear—he really seems to like you.”
I start to laugh again, but then I follow her gaze and gasp, “Oh my!”
The pouch between the Drake’s hind legs has opened, and something long and thick is… emerging.
My mind stutters, trying to process what I’m seeing, to fit it into any frame of reference I possess. It’s not like a man’s—not even close. The shaft is immense, a broad, tapered club of dark, scaled flesh that pushes out from the protective sheath with a slow, inexorable force.
As more of it is revealed, I see it’s ridged with pronounced, circular bands of a slightly darker, almost black scale, each one looking as solid and unyielding as carved onyx.
The shaft itself is a deep, burnished crimson-gold, the same hue as the dragon’s underbelly, and it glistens with a natural, pearlescent lubricant that catches the golden light of the banquet hall.
It continues to unsheathe, and I realize with a dawning, dizzying shock that it’s still coming.
It’s easily twice the length and girth of Valen’s cock in human form, and it’s not fully erect yet.
The head is not a smooth cap—it’s a flared crown, like the head of a mace, textured with smaller, intricate scales and a slit-like opening at the tip.
And at the base of the enormous shaft, a thicker, more pronounced ridge of scales forms a distinct knot-like bulge.
The sheer, primal otherness of it should terrify me. The implicit power in that member, designed for a creature of myth and flame, is staggering. Its girth and length are nothing short of monstrous.
But the Drake isn’t threatening me with it.
He’s simply…presenting it. His great head is lowered, those intelligent, molten-gold eyes watching me with a curiosity that feels unnervingly like Valen’s.
A low, rumbling purr vibrates through the floor beneath my feet—a sound of pleasure, of welcome.
A puff of warm smoke washes over me from his nostrils, and the massive cock gives a slight, throbbing pulse as more of that slick fluid beads at the tip.
This is the truth of Valen, I realize. He’s not just a warrior…
not just a man with clever hands and a dirty mouth, but also this ancient, powerful beast beneath his skin.
And the beast, seeing its mate, is offering the most primal part of itself.
Not in aggression, but in a display of breathtaking, terrifying possession.
“Yes…mate,” the Drake sends and I feel a rush of desire coming from him.
I bite my lip as I feel my body react. The heat that coils in my belly isn’t just fear—it’s recognition—a deep and instinctual understanding of a claim being laid in a language far older than words.
My cheeks burn. Heat rushes to my face and down between my thighs. I feel my embarrassment and arousal spike in response to the Drake’s longing. And he must feel my emotions because he answers them.
Sorry, he murmurs through the mental link. Didn’t mean to. You’re just… so beautiful.
Stop that, I hear Valen say sternly. I told you not to get too excited! She doesn’t think of you that way—her people think you’re a beast!
Guilt stabs through me. He’s right. I was raised to think of dragons as monsters.
But in this moment, looking into those golden eyes, I don’t see a beast—I see another thinking being who wants to be near me. Who longs for me. And how can I be upset about that?
“I was just surprised,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks get hot. “It’s… it’s all right if you get, um, excited. I guess.”
The Drake lets out a low whuff, curling his tail around his feet.
Forgive me…so beautiful, he sends.
Stand back, Valen says. I’m going to Shift back.
“Wait,” I say.
I stroke the Drake’s head one last time, cupping his long muzzle in my hands.
“It was very nice to meet you,” I whisper.
He leans forward and nuzzles my cheek gently, then steps back.
“Do I need to cancel the spell?” I ask the Sorceress.
“No, my dear—it will dissipate on its own when he returns to his human form.”
Even as she speaks, it happens.
The dragon shimmers… ripples… and Shifts so rapidly it almost looks like a magic trick.
Then Valen is standing there tall and naked and—
Oh Goddess—he’s fully hard.
And every inch of him is glorious.