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Eyes: Crimson with vertical pupils.

Facial features: Pale. Soft features.

Preternatural appearance: Brownish black scales. Long neck with rows of horns and frills.

Other: Appears a few years younger than Sera.

Personality: Accepting.

Background: Sera is forced to kill him and then brings him back to life.

Family: Nektas = Distant relative.

NOTE: Seventeen of the twenty-three draken Poppy summoned were killed in the Primal storm that Vessa conjured.

DIARY ENTRY ~ FIRSTS OF FLESH AND FIRE

Dearest Diary,

Tonight was a night for firsts, and you know I don’t have many of those anymore—though not for lack of trying.

This entry is dedicated to the new Queen of Atlantia, for without her, this never would have happened. Though I do feel a little bit bad reveling in the moment here when the reason it did happen stems from some pretty harrowing and quite unbearable circumstances. Alas, it was a splash in the pond of time, a moment of pleasure stolen amidst a multitude of chaos, and thus deserves to be celebrated.

I was traveling for some Council business, which took me just outside of Spessa’s End. That night, I had a vivid vision of leaping flames and flashing scales and knew that Penellaphe had summoned the King of Gods’ guards to help rescue her husband and bring an end to the Blood Crown. I had seen some of those future events in flashes, as well, and knew a bit of what would be ahead in the days to come.

But back to my vision of fire…because fire it did become.

Please forgive me, I’m getting ahead of myself. Blame it on the lingering awe and continued satiation. A smile graces my lips even now…

Instead of leaving the area, I requested an additional night’s stay at the establishment where I had rented a top-floor room and decided to wait and see what might unfold. Something in my vision, though incredibly vague and not at all targeted, urged me to stay. And so, I did. One must follow their instincts. Life would be ever so dull if we did not.

As the day grew to smoky darkness, I visited a local pub just down the street from my lodgings and settled in with a tumbler of whiskey and some stew. Just as I was about to give up and return to my rooms, the door opened, and one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen walked in.

He was a good few inches over six feet with broad shoulders and thick thighs, his upper body a delicious triangle as it tapered to a toned waist and hips. His hair hung in soft waves to just below his jawline, and I watched slack-jawed as he raised a hand to run his fingers through it.

He wore casual clothing in varying shades of gray with a few black accents and positively exuded an air of primal power with a hint of danger.

As he got a little bit closer and within the light thrown about the room from the fire, I took in his face. He had high cheekbones and a chiseled square jaw, a divot in the middle that I wanted to lick. His lips were plush and inviting. Even his Adam’s apple was sexy as he swallowed.

He looked around the space, presumably attempting to find a place to sit. When his gaze reached the table where I supped, I took in his eyes. They were silken sapphire fire—a color not seen much. The wolven had ice-blue eyes, a sign of their dual natures. This blue signified the same, but the vertical pupils in that sea of cerulean solidified my assumption from when he entered the pub. Before me stood a draken in his god form.

I gestured to the empty seat at my little table and inclined my head as I crossed my legs, letting the split in my skirts give an inviting view of a toned, rich brown thigh and calf. The draken followed the movement and then took me in again, looking quickly at the chair across from me before finally heading my way.

My heartbeat stirred in my chest, excitement ramping. When he sat across from me, never taking his captivating gaze from mine, his aura nearly knocked me out of my seat. This was power. Ancient power. The power of the gods made flesh. And it turned me on.

I finally found my voice and greeted him, giving him my name and asking his. He didn’t say anything for so long that I feared I had scared him away, but then he finally spoke, his deep timbre rumbling and stirring things in my chest and lower.

He told me that his name was Nithe and asked me if I knew what he was. I assumed he could sense the changeling blood in me, perhaps even know somehow that I was a Seer. I told him I did, and we struck up a conversation. He was quite funny, something I didn’t expect. He was also incredibly polite and made me feel appreciated, seen, and heard. We drank whiskey and enjoyed the fire and each other until the barkeep signaled last call.

Never taking my eyes from his, I bolstered my courage and asked him if he’d like to return to my rooms with me. He hesitated for only a second before agreeing, then rising and taking my hand. I led the way, just down the street, and climbed the stairs to my rooms, putting a little extra sway in my step.

As the door snicked shut, Nithe pulled me to him, the hard ridges of his body cradling the softer planes of mine. He kissed me as if he were starving, tangling the fingers of one hand in my hair as his other took an adventurous journey down the dips and valleys of my backside.

I felt the impressive ridge of his manhood behind the flap of his trousers and my body responded in kind with a rush of heat and desire.

He stepped back just enough to bring his hands to the laces on my dress, and I mirrored him, untying the ties at his neck and waist and loosening the fly enough to see the crown of him. My mouth watered, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his scales presented anywhere while he was in his mortal form.

Shaking those thoughts for the moment, I continued divesting him of his clothing, turning him to help rid him of his shirt and noticing the fine line of ridges on his back that resembled scales. Then I helped him peel away mine until we stood before each other, gloriously naked—and I do mean gloriously. Nithe was a work of art with sculpted pectorals and biceps, bulging triceps and shoulders. He was long and hard and shifted just to the left, something I knew from my vast experience meant very good things for me.