She was small and cold, shivering against him. He stayed his purrs, knowing they hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her.
His slitted eyes peered into the darkness, expertly dodging the cyclones of air as they ripped through the stormy night, converging upon his castle behind him.
Stone could be rebuilt. It could be replaced.
But she could not.
Finally, the small island off the coast welcomed him. His wings beat faster, carrying him with renewed vigor toward his den.
It was private, a tall rocky expanse set in the middle of nothingness—far away from the coast, no one would notice, but close enough he could fly there within an hour.
Dragons loved to make their dens private and quiet, places no one could go. Dark and small and safe.
His den was all of those things, but not too small—he was a King, after all.
It was a towering collection of rocks, jagged edges of the cliff falling straight down into the ocean, where tall, deadly waves crashed against it. As if made just for a dragon, there was a wide open expanse in the very middle, a lip of stone at the cave’s mouth. His claws gripped the rock, sending tiny pieces scattering down into the sea.
His mate’s fear washed over him. He tried to send her assurances. Gripping the stone that jutted out past the cave entrance, leading deep into a cavern of darkness, the dragon slowly unfurled his talon. His claws kept her steady, and he watched with amusement as she stayed unmoving, knees splayed out by her sides at awkward angles. The ends of her white wings brushed his scales. He huffed smoke at the soft, downy feel of them.
Go,he urged into his mate’s mind.
He retracted his claws as best as he was able, keeping them out of the way as he made a small plank for her to walk upon.
Safe, small, protect.
Mine, mine.
Ours.
His mate teetered to a stand, holding her hands out on either side as she stood on her tiptoes. Peculiar creature.
Slowly, she walked, her feet barely making a dent on his fiery scales. She hopped onto the lip of the cavern mouth, falling to her knees, fingers digging into the stone as if grateful to be back on solid ground.
The dragon huffed, blowing grey smoke right in her face and ruffling her rain-soaked, windblown, white hair.
From deep within, he felt his other side beckon, desperate to reassure her with more than mere thoughts, but words.
The dragon’s green eyes narrowed as he stared down at the fae female. Contemplating.
Finally, he relented, wanting her to be safe and pleased and warm just as much as he wanted to hurry back and collect her other mates for her. Let them surround her and keep her safe, too.
The process of shifting midair was a skill he had mastered with grave effort. The dragon felt his bones shrink, flesh replaced scales, as his wings folded back into his skin. Everything grew smaller.
Until he was, once more, a male.
Cold air whipped against Vale’s skin as he fell toward the raging sea. He knew how to do this. He propelled his body forward at just the right moment, expertly landing on the lip of the cave, one foot hanging off the edge. His ribs and shoulder slammed into the stone ground, and he groaned.
Not his best landing. But he had been distracted.
Vale could not stay long—he had a promise to uphold and males to save.
He pushed himself up, side aching from his rough fall. The wind that filtered in through the exposed cavern mouth chilled his nude body.
He braced a leg under him, kneeling with a hand braced on his knee to gain his bearings after being beholden to his dragon. The shift had been another hard-earned battle. He had wondered if his beast would have allowed him to break through, to grant his Vincire comfort before he left.
Thank the gods he did.
Because she needed it.
