Page 15 of Whisper Woods (Legends of the Whisper Woods #3)

Seff

“Who is he and why is he in the High Council chambers?” I jump in my chair, a tall-backed incredibly uncomfortable thing next to Rafe’s identical chair. We didn’t even make it to his house before two hulking guard dudes stopped us—seriously they make me look scrawny—demanding we come to the palace with them.

I worried at first, that I was under arrest or something for trespassing, but Rafe and Brydon both reassured me, well Wolf, that it was fine. Rafe and Brydon both seemed like they were, if not friendly, at least on a first name basis with them. Gurt and Edley were the queen's guards. Well, not the queen. They used another title, but it was all the same really.

Honestly, the past twenty-four-ish hours have been so unbelievably insane, I am—for the first time in my entire life—entirely at ease. No, at ease isn’t the right words for it. It’s like between the exhaustion, the emotions, and the information overload, my brain has taken a jump and left me to fend for myself. Even Wolf is suspiciously quiet.

My eyes are burning, my body is killing me and the pants Edley got for me are giving me a wicked wedgie. I haven’t even begun to absorb Tathys and all of its, well, everything. Like I said, my brain’s gone. Zilcho. No communicado.

The room we’re in right now is pretty, though. I haven’t managed to take in much of Tathys’s vibe or whatever, but if this room is anything to go by, they have style . And even though the palace itself is made of beige stone, they are not frightened of colour. A lot of colour.

This room, the High Council’s Chambers as the old guy who just blustered his way into the room called it, is painted a deep navy colour, with gold coloured trim around the walls. Giant arched windows line the walls floor to ceiling with brilliant coloured glass in floral patterns. Even the floor is colourful, with mosaic tiles in intricate patterns.

Around the giant, octagonal, dark wood table dominating the room, surrounded by the High Council members, Council aids, other Tavishers, and the fricken Queen , there is an uncomfortable murmuring and shifting, several beings sharing significant side-eye.

I’m controversial, apparently.

Rafe clears his throat, leaning forward, obviously ready to take the lead when High Eminence Elianora—the not-a-queen—straightens in her chair, the air shifting with a sudden pulse of power. It makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I pull awkwardly at my borrowed shirt, a plain white sleeveless button up with a band collar, wishing I was a little less exposed, and a little less in borrowed clothes.

“Grand Master Heylor. Good of you to finally join us.” Power radiates from the High Eminence, taking some of the wind out of the guy’s sails. But not enough. He looks like a pompous windbag. His jaw clenches visibly as he bows in deference to his ruler. It’s more of a nod really. And I mean, I don’t know much about etiquette or whatever, but it was definitely the bare minimum deference.

“High Eminence. My apologies, I was delayed speaking to my son.”

He takes one of the remaining spare seats, next to the guy who has been giving me stink eye since we all sat down. At least now he’s stopped glaring at me to stare at this Heylor guy with moon eyes.

Not my circus.

“How is Brydon?” Another being at the table asks, oblivious to the tension in the room. Or they just don’t give a fuck. But Brydon is this guy’s son? It’s not even that he and Brydon look nothing alike, they couldn’t be more different in their energy. I don’t really know Brydon, but he seems funny and cool. This guy? He is not .

“He’s fine.” The guy waves his hand so dismissively it makes me irrationally angry. I decide I hate him. Passionately. Except I must give it away somehow because Rafe places a hand on my arm, his thumb stroking me, filling me with that same sense of relief his touch always brings.

It will be okay . I can almost hear him. And so I take a deep breath.

Heylor has noticed Rafe’s hand on my arm, his eyes like laser beams on the spot where his thumb is running over the bump on my wrist joint.

Suck eggs, fucker .

“This is Seff Harroway. He has come with Rafe to explain things that have occurred in the Mundane.” One of the Grand Masters, I think Rafe said his name is Yorin, takes one for the team and introduces me.

If looks could kill, I’d be a very dead wolf right about now. The hatred in Heylor’s eyes would be comical if it wasn’t directed solely at me.

“ Really .” The pressure of his gaze pricks at my skin like a thousand tiny knives. It’s almost enough to rouse Wolf from his overwhelmed slumber and I barely have the energy to fight to keep him in check. The tension in the room is electric until the High Eminence cuts through it with deadly precision.

“This is our job , Heylor. The walls have fallen. Tathys is to join the Mundane. We need knowledge to ensure this process is as smooth and safe as possible for our people. The Whisper Woods, the Gods themselves, have spoken. Treat our guest with respect or remove yourself.” Elianora doesn’t raise her voice once in her speech, magic visibly contorting the air around her. And I gotta say, it’s been a while since I’ve hooked up with a chick, but it’s hot as fuck. Scary, too.

Heylor turns a rather nasty purple colour, his jaw ticking with the words he struggles not to spray at all of us. The being next to him, I think they are in the Orun judging by the super-crisp white robes, shuffles their chair slightly away from him.

“If everyone is done,” Elianora states, ignoring Heylor and piercing me with her almost vibrant pink eyes. I flush hot and cold under her stare, my stomach swirling viciously. “Seff, why don’t you tell us all what you know.”

***

I am dead. Dying of dead. Depleted. A husk. A shell of who I was two days ago. Or maybe I’m just exhausted and being a little dramatic.

Could go either way really.

The sun singes my already burning eyes as I walk with Rafe down the front steps of the palace to the Tathissian town square. After being low-key interrogated for hours and reliving every single traumatic moment of our confrontation with the ancient fae Marieth and then every detail of what’s happened with Theo since, I feel like I have been gutted, peeled open and pulled apart for inspection.

I was conflicted at first, about telling them everything. But as they pointed out, they already had most of the information from Rafe’s journals—which wasn’t exactly the positive argument they thought it was. I mean, we had our only argument ever over those fucking notes.

But ultimately, I decided that I trust Rafe, and by extension, I trust the High Council. Well, not that Heylor guy. He seemed like a real prick. But the rest of them genuinely seemed like they were trying to do the best by their city and their people.

They probably got the wrong guy to interview, though. Sure, I could clarify most of the facts about what happened at Marieth’s, but when they started asking questions about the technical side of the magic and the history, and then about the Mundane at large it became obvious I was well out of my depth.

Because that's what they call the outside world. The Mundane. Weird. Also kinda rude.

It wasn’t just me that was interrogated. Rafe had to answer eleventy-billion questions about everything he saw and heard. Just the same questions, over and over again with slightly different wording. Pages of notes were made—I don’t even know how they are going to be of any use to anyone there were so many. It was overwhelming just to look at.

And then there were the discussions. More like debates really. Every so often it was like the High Council and the high ranking members of the Orun would forget that Rafe and I were there and they would get deep into a heated discussion over what we said, over what other Tavishers have said and what was written in the giant-ass, heavy looking tomes the Orun kept poring over.

I lean heavily on Rafe as we walk down the beige stone steps. He is trying really hard to make it seem like he isn’t as exhausted too, but I can feel it. At this point, we are basically propping each other up.

Tathissians, of all shapes and sizes, and beings rush around us as we reach the stones of the town centre where Brydon is waiting for us, leaning against a big ass, five-sided fountain. In the centre of the fountain are five statues depicting the Gods. It looks like water is meant to shoot from various orifices, but the fountain is bone dry. It’s missing something too, from the centre of the statues, but I don’t know what. It just looks wrong.

On the other side of the fountain, directly opposite the palace, is another extravagant beige stone building with similar colourful glass, arched windows. It’s not as big as the palace, but is still pretty remarkable with at least three stories and an ornate, golden-domed roof. There are steps leading up to the building with a heap of beings in those white robes milling about. Enough to make me think that’s where the Orun live. Or work, or play. Whatever.

The two buildings seem to act as anchors for the town. On the other side of the fountain, there are more buildings all made with that same stone. The bottom levels all seem to be market stores and shops and restaurants. But there are more stories all stacked on top, some five or six stories high. Most look like they were added later, with slightly different architectural styles making everything look somehow chaotic yet orderly.

Rafe and I are too exhausted to talk, but Brydon maintains a steady stream of chatter as he walks with us back to Rafe’s home. I’m more than curious to see where he lives. There is a fizzy little pit in my guts at getting to know more about him and his mysterious life.

Magic is thick in the air of Tathys as Brydon points out the good bakery and the best place to get lunch. Food seems to be a big motivator for him. As we wind through the narrow streets, I can’t help but notice how the beings seem to avoid Brydon. Rafe gets the most attention, everyone going out of their way to greet him. They even have friendly and curious smiles for me. But Brydon? It’s like he’s a ghost. They look right through him.

What the fuck is that about ?

He doesn’t seem to care, though. He swaggers through the streets in his baggy khaki cargo shorts and ratty old high-top sneakers. He’s got an old band tee shirt with a plaid button up loose over the top. He seems to be the only being here decked out in “Mundane” clothes. Is that what their issue is?

I don’t really have time to consider it because we take a hard left and then we are apparently on Rafe’s street. Brydon’s too, because apparently they live together. But not like that . Brydon had been really explicit about that.

We’ve left behind the condensed townhouses of the city centre. Stone walls fence the street, with mansion-like homes behind them. We come to a stop in front of a wall overgrown with ivy and a tall wooden gate engraved with wards. There is an arch over the gate. Lots of arches in Tathys.

Rafe waves his hands at the gate and it creaks open. Brydon enters first, with Rafe tugging me along behind them, confused yet again.

“I thought you said that you were the not-a-shifter-shifter-thing?” I ask, following along behind through the incredible garden. It’s a riot of dark green leaves, shaded by massive trees with raised roots that form pockets in the yard.

“A dragonkin .” Rafe reminds me, throwing the word over his shoulder as he strides towards the large double doors. I’m spinning in circles as I walk, trying and failing to take it all in.

“Yeah, that.” I notice Rafe and Brydon are both waiting for me at the door so I jog to catch up. “What’s with the magic then?”

Brydon’s face screws up as he shoves the door open. “Every being can do magic, Seff. It’s in our blood. You could even argue that humans are capable, what with witches and all. Just requires a little extra work.”

In a jarringly normal move, he kicks off his shoes, flicking them into the pile of dirty sneakers next to the door. Considering I’m barefoot, I don’t do the same. Rafe, who got dressed with me in his own clothes before seeing the High Council, leaves his boots on, which feels more appropriate for how insanely fancy this place is.

“Don’t all beings do magic in the Mundane?” Brydon asks.

I don’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to expect me to, he just continues talking while I try not to wig out at the vast entryway to Rafe’s home. The ceilings are at least three stories tall, with those same arched windows and colourful-glass patterns up the front wall. The space is painted a deep green colour, with vines and flowers painted all the way to the ceiling. There are more mosaic tiles on the floor in intricate patterns of flowers and leaves, and a giant—I mean giant —chandelier overhead.

A staircase, in the same rich, dark wood as the door, leads to the upstairs landing, which seems to lead to the two wings of the house, and four doorways lead from the entryway. Two at the front and two more doors sort of tucked away at the back. Behind the stairs are glass doors leading to what looks like the outside.

The place is huge.

Rafe looks perfectly at home, which makes sense, because, well, it is. He pulls a bag out of literal thin air and places it carefully on a low stand that seems to be designed entirely for that purpose. Where the fuck did the bag come from?

“Right, well, things to study. Mysteries to solve. I’ll be in the office when you need me.” Brydon waves with a nod, and meanders off into the house. I watch him go, while Rafe watches me, the exhaustion in his face not dimming his obvious enthusiasm for having me in his space.

I go to shove my hands in my pockets, but remember at the last second I don’t have them, and so I hook my thumbs into the waist of my pants instead, pacing around the room, inspecting the beautifully crafted furniture sprinkled around the room like art. A chest here, a uselessly small table there… that sort of thing. Usually I’d feel out of place or awkward. I’m a big guy and I’m not exactly known for being a delicate flower. But everything is sturdy and solid while being pretty. It’s good shit.

“So what do you think?” Rafe finally asks, a hint of impatience in his voice.

I stop my casual nosying around and head back to him, pulling him into my arms. His hands come up to fuss at my collar, then slide around my neck.

“Must be a bitch to heat in the winter.” I say, staring around at the almost cavernous space. Rafe laughs softly, shaking his head. The affectionate spark in his eye fills me with a warm, giddy feeling. I like that he wants me to like his home. It makes me feel important. “But I guess that’s not really a problem with the whole infinite magic thing.”

“No, not really.” Rafe whispers back distractedly, his eyes now locked in on my mouth, the closeness of our bodies no longer able to be ignored. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip.

“It’s nice, Rafe. Really nice. There’s something else I wanna see, though.”

He grunts. I don’t think he’s actually listening, his fingers massaging the back of my neck, all the way down to my shoulders. Liquid heat replaces my blood. There is only me, and Rafe and the way he’s touching me. I lean in close to his ear, biting down on the lobe, careful not to get one of his piercings instead. He shudders a loud groan as my teeth sink into him, his hips slamming into me in one jarring thrust. Chuckling darkly, I lick the shell of his ear. “I wanna see your room.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before he grabs my arm, and hauls me laughing up the stairs. If he could have made the trip with me thrown over his shoulder, I think he would have. Instead, I have to settle for the growling, mauling manhandling as we make our way up the stairs and blindly down the hallway to his room.

Not a terrible compromise really.

***

We slept. We slept fucking hard .

Rafe kissed me like he was going to eat me alive, absolutely devouring me. Once we reached the sanctuary of his room, though, he stripped us both naked and pushed me onto the bed. When he joined me seconds later, rather than continuing what we started, he rearranged us so his body could wrap around mine, and commanded me to sleep.

Despite my raging erection, I passed out on command and now I have no idea what the time is. The blinds have been drawn, and it’s pitch black in here.

“You’re awake.” I smile at Rafe’s sleepy, raspy voice. I hadn’t even noticed him watching me, I reach out beneath the covers to yank him close to me again. We’d separated during our sleep and I have a desperate need to rectify that .

He comes easily, letting me roll us so he’s splayed on top of me, his elbows bracketing my head. With his face so close, his nose brushing mine, you’d think morning breath would be an issue, but love must be one hell of a drug because his morning breath doesn’t bother me anywhere near as much as it should. It’s almost… nice.

I’m too busy staring into his eyes, trailing my hands up and down his naked spine to catch my own thoughts. Rafe grinds down with his hips, his cock rubbing against mine in a way that makes my brain skitter into nothing until it screeches to a halt.

Love ? Rafe senses my sudden distraction as I fall head first onto the Overthinking Express, kissing me softly and tugging on my lip with his teeth. But I’m too far gone. Love… is that what this is? It feels so insanely sudden but at the same time it feels like the feeling is a part of my DNA.

I was in love with Caelan once; I thought we would be mates. I do still love him. But not that way. This connection between Rafe and me is different. It’s always been something outside of my “real life.” There were times I thought it was all a dream, that our nights together were just hallucinations. Because it seemed completely unreal that anything real could feel like it does to be with him.

But I don’t know what loving Rafe means. And with everything going on with my status in the Everfyr pack, and my life, and everything I now know about his life here in Tathys, I don’t know what to do with it either. It feels like the veil between fantasy and reality has been pulled back, but instead of making everything clearer, it’s just made it even more confusing. So I do what I do best when things feel out of my control. I push it all the way down to deal with later.

“Are you okay?” Rafe’s scar pulls at his cheek when his eyebrow puckers into a frown. My eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see the details in his face. I breathe in deeply, allowing his scent to invade me and force back my growing anxiety. I manage to bolster a smile and skirt my hands down to his ass, squeezing his cheeks. While I’ve been distracted his movements have stalled, and I mentally kick myself at my own stupidity.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice is hoarse. I could definitely use a drink of water. But then my stomach rumbles, loud and obnoxious. I swear Rafe can feel it, the way he chuckles.

He dips his head to give me another quick kiss. “You’ll feel better when you’re fed. Let’s get you taken care of.”

He goes to get off me, but I lock my arms around his chest, pinning him to me. He squirms, his smile growing wider as he protests. “I’ll feel better after an orgasm. Or three.”

I roll him onto his back, trapping my arms under him in the process, but it just lets me dive into his neck easier. I kiss and suck along the tendons, and nibble my way along his collarbone. His efforts to fight back are half hearted at best, especially when his fingers knot themselves in my hair, undecided whether they are trying to hold me closer or pull me away.

When I lick along his chest, the yelping, shocked bark of his laugh heats my blood just as much as the salty taste of his skin. He fights back, managing to fight his way out of my hold to pin me on my back with my wrists in his hands and gives as good as he got.

We wrestle and play until we’re sweaty and laughing and covered in hickeys and bruises. By the time that we come, my hand wrapped around our cocks together, my earlier fears have been obliterated.

Because so long as I’m with Rafe, I know that I’ll be okay.

***

My man has servants . Like, plural. More than one. I don’t know why I’m so shocked by the fact, considering what he said about his parents being a part of Tathissian high society and him being besties with the High Eminence, but I am.

It’s just the culture shock my brain decides it’s going to get hung up on.

When we finally make it out of bed, and get cleaned up from our fun, we are met by the staff in the dining room. Maeve, Eldrid and Sed wait patiently to serve us, waving off my awkward apologies for making them wait.

Sed—a younger being with long, shaggy, brown hair and a quick, shy smile—is the one to serve our late lunch. He blushes furiously whenever I try to talk to him. Apparently, Brydon tells me with a smirk and a wink when the young being leaves to get a new jug of water for the table, he is always like that. He has a bit of a hero worship thing going on with Rafe. Being a Tavisher in Tathys has a kind of celebrity status thing going on.

Rafe and Brydon catch up over practical things over food. Sleep has settled everything I learnt over the past couple of days into my brain, but I tune them out while I eat.

For one thing, the food was good enough to rival Mauvy’s and I am starving—these muscles require a lot of maintenance and I haven’t eaten in way too long—but mostly, my brain is at capacity.

When you’re an overthinker, sometimes less is more when it comes to conversation.

“So, there isn’t much to be done until the spell’s done doing its thing.” Brydon wraps up his explanation of the spell he is using to translate and decode the book Darius had when he kidnapped Theo. “Why don’t we go visit Estella? Show the big guy around Tathys?”

He jabs his fork in my direction. Unfortunately, Wolf, who is already pissed about my orgasm over food priorities, thinks he’s going to use said fork to steal something off our plate. He forces out a warning growl making Brydon jump in his seat, his round eyes going wide.

“Shit, I mean, if you don’t wanna, that’s cool.” He rushes out.

A blush fills his cheeks, turning his green skin a ruddy brown colour as he looks down at his food again. Fuck. My neck gets hot with embarrassment at the way Brydon has shrunken into himself, his shoulders sagging under his oversized tee shirt. Another band one, well, this one is a teen pop princess but I guess it still counts? She has some bangers.

“Sorry, Wolf thought you were going to take something off my plate. He can be a territorial dick.”

Brydon looks up, a wary but small smile on his face. Under the table I can hear the telltale slap of his tail. I smile back, and his smile grows more confident, and he nods, returning to his food with gusto .

“Who’s Estella?” I ask Rafe, before I shove another forkful of whatever this salty-sweet meat on my plate is. It is my new favourite thing in the world. Rafe watches me eat like a savage with a look of bemused affection that makes my stomach feel all tingly. He chews his mouthful in a much more civilised manner before he answers.

“A dragon. I have always been rather fond of her, and she had her pups before I left. It’s part of our responsibilities as dragonkin—”

The loud clatter of my fork against my plate interrupts Rafe when it drops from my fingers. Wiping my mouth on the embroidered linen napkin, I stand so quickly I almost send my chair flying.

“Dragons? I wanna see dragons. Let’s go see the dragons.”

Rafe stares, his jaw dropped in shock at my enthusiasm. Brydon has no chill, failing at hiding a laugh on the other side of the long table.

Placing both hands on the table, I lean over the platters of food to Rafe at the head seat. “ Dragons , Rafe. Dragons. Now. Come on .”

My excitement bubbles over–I’m unable to contain it. Fucking dragons . No one has ever seen them before. Well, I guess these two have, and I saw them when we crossed the borders. But that was different. It wasn’t up close or anything. There’s been stories and rumours and legends for centuries. And now I get to see one for real ? Fuck yeah! Sign me up.

He blinks a couple of times before smiling indulgently. “Dragons it is then. Then a tour of Tathys?” He looks at Brydon, and then back to me.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan. Let’s do this.” I clap my hands together then shoot finger guns at them. Brydon snorts out a laugh, and Rafe huffs out a laugh, too. I think I can even hear Sed from the hallway where the staff apparently wait while we eat.

***

Rafe is back in his dragonkin scales and I am trying, really fucking trying, to not get hard while I watch him cautiously approach the giant fucking dragon. Something about being hard while around them feels extra dangerous or antagonistic or something. But the extra adrenaline from the situation isn’t helping.

Brydon is hanging back with me. Partially to protect me if things go sideways, but also to help the dragons understand that I’m not a threat. There are about twenty dragons lounging on the grasslands. Roughly the size of a two story suburban house, they are beautiful and vividly bright in the otherwise dull landscape of the grassy expanse.

There are other dragons in the colony, they explained when we arrived. While Estella came close to the border to meet us, there are another two dozen or so full size adult dragons on the field, with another thirty or so again on the cliff side and down on the beach below.

Brydon and Rafe explained a lot on my way here, telling me all about the crops we passed on the way and how they are used here in Tathys, and how they are traded in the Mundane. Sometimes less than legally.

“He’s safe, right?” I lean down to Brydon, who’s also watching Rafe approach the giant ass dragon like it’s no big deal.

“Eh,” Brydon shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Safe enough. We’re used to what happens. The pups can be dangerous; they don’t know how to control their fire.”

As if on cue, there is a blast to our right, where a handful of the brightly coloured dragon babies—the size of small SUVs—are roughhousing.

“That happens a lot . And you don’t want to get too close to nesting mothers. The bulls can be dicks, too. But apart from all that, it’s safe enough for us, you know?”

I look sideways at him, not at all reassured. “Yeah, super safe. Just like juggling knives blind folded on a unicycle. So safe.”

Brydon laughs his snorty laugh and hits me with his elbow.

“Trust me. Rafe’s fine .”

He’s currently scratching the red and yellow dragon’s neck while the beast's tail whips the air happily. Wolf is even less reassured than I am. The shithead’s currently a whimpering mess, unsure whether he wants to bolt or roll over and play dead. Or just play. He’s a simple beast, but he’s also a confused one.

“So, how did you meet Rafe? ”

Rafe leaves the dragon, Estella, to pat another. While he does, I can see him inspecting the beast's hind legs and claws.

“Uh,” I scrape a hand through my hair, wishing I had my cap to fidget with. I feel more naked without it than when I’m actually naked. “We ran into each other in the Woods a few years back. Then it kept happening by chance. We got to know each other.”

Brydon stares at me, hard and unblinking. I can feel it on my cheek and I scratch my slightly too long stubble to diffuse the feeling. His tail scrapes the ground as it sways. “And then there was the prophecy, and you two ran into each other at Slash.”

“Prophecy?” The word has been thrown around so much recently I had trouble keeping track of them all. But Brydon waves me off.

“Don’t worry.” He looks back out at Rafe, a look of concentration on his face like he’s doing complex maths. Rafe has moved on to three dragon babies, patting and baby talking them like they aren’t potentially murderous beasts. “So, tell me about Slash. Do you go there a lot? What’s it like?”

I try my best to describe the club. It’s hard at first until I stumble on some references Brydon understands. He has a strange half understanding of the Mundane. It’s been pulled together from what Rafe has brought back for him. Some of his references are decades old, others are brand new. But we get through it. And then one tangent leads to another, and he’s asking a million questions I do my best to answer. By the time Rafe makes his way back to us, we’re making plans for Brydon to get my phone charged up so he can listen to my playlists and I’m making a mental list of tv shows to download and show him.

Though with this whole reunification thing, maybe he won’t need it. He could go and find it all for himself. Wild.

“Are you two milkmaids done gossiping?” Rafe growls as he approaches, his voice deeper and richer than when human-looking.

“Seff was just telling me that he knows a strip club back home that he’s gonna take me to. Said he’d pay for all the lap dances I want.” He slaps his arm around my shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, but he pulls me in for a side hug.

Rafe’s eyes narrow on where Brydon’s hand is touching the bare skin on my shoulder. With his usually graceful movements enhanced, he plucks Brydon’s hand off me.

“Hmm, sounds interesting.” He puts his hand where Brydon’s was, the pads of his fingers massaging possessively. And carefully. “Want to pat a dragon?”

Fuck yeah, I want to pat a dragon, but I’m not an idiot. Not entirely anyway. I tamp down the excitement firing through me. “Is that like, safe? I thought you said that I had to stand here?”

Rafe shakes my shoulder, the frills around his face fanning out. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Estella will be fine.”

I look at Brydon for reassurance. He shrugs noncommittally. “You do have Rafe’s smell, like, all over you. And your auras are all blended together. Estella loves Rafe. She should be safe.”

“I’ll call her over here, away from the others. And the pups.” Rafe’s dragon face is so earnest. I kiss the cool scales of his snout and his toothy mouth twists into a smile.

“Let’s do it.”

Rafe whistles an eerie sound that no being should be able to make. It’s a low, warpy sound that makes Brydon’s pointed ears twitch furiously, but it works. Estella’s head perks up. The ground thunders as she runs over to us with surprising speed. She stops suddenly, with a loud, smokey huff.

As a predator shifter I know what fear smells like, I know how prey acts and I try really fucking hard to get my heart under control. Which is really hard to do when a dragon is staring you down. Do I look it in the eyes? Or is that a threat? But now that I’ve looked in its eyes, is looking away gonna make it attack?

I should have asked more questions.

I rub my sweaty palms on my borrowed pants as subtly as I can.

“Hey baby girl, this is Seff.” Baby-talk in Rafe’s growly beast voice does terrible and inconvenient things to my heart, considering the dragon right in front of me.

The dragon’s head rests on the ground, leaning eagerly into his touch, snuffling and snorting as he pats her lovingly. He nods in my direction, calling me over .

Swallowing with a hard gulp, I go against every instinct I have and with shaking knees I get closer to Estella. Shoulder to shoulder with Rafe, my hand shakes as I reach out to stroke the hard, rough scales on the hinge behind her jaw. It doesn’t feel like what I expected. I kind of thought it would be smooth like Rafe’s scales, but it’s not. It's rough and gritty and dry.

I can’t get past how big she is. My brain struggles to comprehend it, even though she’s right there in front of me. Her head is as tall as I am. She’s beautiful, though. Terrifying and beautiful. Her yellow eyes droop closed as she nuzzles into my scratching hand. The spiked frill around her jaw—almost like webbing between the spikes—dances with happiness at the attention she’s getting. Her scales remind me of fire, reds and oranges coming together into stunning patterns on her body I didn’t notice until we got this close.

“This is incredible,” I breathe, not wanting to spook her into roasting me alive. Estella gets comfortable lying on the ground and her massive claws scrape the ground next to me as she repositions herself, her tail scraping the ground where it flicks contentedly behind her. At least the fear has gotten rid of that awkward boner situation. I look at Rafe, who’s absentmindedly patting the creature, but looking at me.

“Thank you.” I mouth and when he smiles back, the spikes around his dragon-head fanning up and then back down—almost like a dance—it pulls deep at my chest.

Brydon joins us to give Estella a scratch, but the experience is interrupted by a horrendous screeching sound.

“What the fuck is that?” I duck at the sound, my eyes darting around to find the source, but I can’t see anything past Estella. The sound upsets her too, and she jumps and grunts, a stream of smoke pouring from her nostrils.

“Brett.” Brydon and Rafe say together, just as there is another horrifying shriek. Estella lumbers to her feet in one magnificent movement that pushes us back to get out of the way.

“We need to go. Now.” Rafe grabs my wrist, his claws piercing the skin as he pulls me along roughly, running at a speed I can’t keep up with properly in this form. Brydon is right along beside us, ahead of my stumbling pace .

“Who’s Brett?” I struggle to get it out past my choking breath as our legs eat up the distance to the edge of the dragon’s land. I almost trip over a rock lodged in the ground, but Brydon snags my other arm, the pair of them hauling me along until I find my feet again.

“Estella’s mate. He’s a dick.” Brydon pants back. My legs are burning, but sounds behind me—earth rattling thuds and terrifying, vicious snarling—keep me going despite the pain. Whatever is going on between Estella and Brett, I don’t want to know.

We make it to the edge of the dragon’s land where our horses are waiting. There is nothing particularly different about the ground we’re on now and the grassy fields we just legged it through—just the invisible boundary that keeps the dragons from roaming free. That boundary, at least, hasn’t been affected by whatever is going on with Tathys.

We collapse next to the horses. I have instant regret from hitting the ground so hard, the shock shooting from my knees up to my back. But then I fall to the ground, giant belly laughs ripping through me.

Brydon and Rafe—who has half changed back into his human skin—stare at me. I laugh until tears fall down my face and my stomach hurts. It’s not even funny. It’s just a lot, and the dam has opened.

“Uh, is he broken?” Brydon asks Rafe who shrugs, confused and worried.

It just makes me laugh harder until I’m gasping for breath and I manage to get a hold of myself. I wipe the wetness from my face and scrub at my cheeks. Everything’s a little blurry as I stare up at the pair of them, the brilliant blue sky a vivid backdrop to their faces.

“I just patted a motherfucking dragon .” I’m still a little breathless and my face hurts but I can’t stop smiling. Brydon laughs, rolling his eyes. Or at least I think he does, with his eyes being round and all black it all looks a little different. Rafe beams at me, his face filled with something that looks a little like lust and a lot like… love. Huh. “So. What’s next?”