The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7 (5 page)

Not much though
, he thought as they proceeded onward. His groin throbbed painfully with the need to mate.

They arrived in a large clearing at a white cottage with a green door. A dragon was painted on the door, along with a triskelion, the symbol for Fae in this region.

“The king wants the Fae to know they are welcome to use the cottage if they wish. But no Fae have gathered on our lands for months now.” Anna found the key beneath a flowerpot and opened the door.

Inside, the cottage smelled musty, but it was clean and neat. As she went through it opening windows, he investigated his new home.

She came into the bedroom, holding out the key and avoided looking at him. “I have to leave or Papa will notice I’m gone. He’s due to return soon from his regular night flight. I can come back tomorrow and spend time with you. I’ll find an excuse.”

Darkness still shrouded the cottage. After drawing the heavy drapes across the windows so no one would see the light, he went to the lamp on the nightstand and snapped it on. She stiffened.

Michael took the key from her and set it upon the bureau. He enfolded her smaller hand in his larger one. “Look at me, Anna.”

She stared at the floor.

“Please.”

Gently, he clasped her chin and raised her gaze to meet his.

In the light, the twin patches of red dragon scales on her cheeks were more pronounced and breathtaking. The scales glittered with threads of silver and gold entwined through them. Pure magick. Most red dragons held only the magick of one color or the other, not both.

Michael’s breath hitched. “Gods, you’re special.”

As he leaned down to kiss her, she pulled away. “Good night Michael. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on you.”

He stared at the door as it closed behind her, then went around checking his quarters. The cottage was comfortable enough, with a queen-sized bed and a mini kitchenette and living room. He cared not for the television nor the dining table.

The bed, on the other hand…or claw…

Michael sat upon it. It squeaked as he bounced up and down.

He planned to make much more music on it, with Anna in his arms, naked beneath him. Michael closed his eyes and imagined her green eyes dazed with passion as he made love to her.

A sharp spike of anger stabbed him in the chest as he thought of her frightened expression when he’d seen her face. The red scales were ugly to Skins, of course, for Skins had different notions of beauty than dragons. But for her own clan to shun her, and treat her with such disrespect?

What the hell was wrong with them?

“I should let Barlow see me, and the whole damn lot of them. Fight them single-handedly,” he muttered, raking a hand through his dark hair.

Michael tugged on the crystal earring in his left ear. “Xavier, I’ll be here a few days and I packed light. Real light. Actually, you packed for me. I need provisions.”

A suitcase suddenly whistled through the air and dropped on the floor.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

The leather case contained clothing, toiletries, his favorite books, and a wallet stuffed with cash. Beneath the clothing…he sifted through the items with a laugh of disbelief.

Condoms. Dozens of them.

Now he knew the wizard’s intent in sending him here was duel-edged. Michael picked up a condom and flipped it into the air like a quarter. “Extra-large.”

At least the wizard granted him the courtesy of giving him the largest size. But he would not need the condoms. When he finally made love to Anna, there would be nothing between them but skin.

Such was the way of dragons with true mates.

Michael undressed. Naked, he lay upon the queen-size bed and pillowed his head beneath his arms. Eventually he slept, dreaming of dragons ruling the night skies, and a fire that burned brighter and icier than men’s secret desires.

Chapter 3

Anna did not come by first thing in the morning. Michael showered, dressed and found supplies in the pantry. He set about making breakfast, burning the canned ravioli. He ate it with relish—he’d learned while growing up to never take food for granted.

When his parents died, his world had collapsed. Though they had seldom been there to raise him, for they were too busy fighting for King Jasper, proving their ability as his smartest, most loyal warriors. Male and female, a fighting duo that had eyes only for each other, and sometimes even forgot they had a son.

He had learned at an early age, before the shift into dragon, to cook his own meals, clean up after himself, bathe himself and dress himself. It made him independent, yet he wistfully yearned for a real family and that closeness. Clan Fury was not close-knit. They were strong and loyal, but parents were preoccupied with nocturnal flying, guarding the skies against evil and working closely with the Fae to pay much attention to their young. Dragons who were too old to fly often turned into nursery maids out of necessity for future generations.

So when he’d found out about an exchange program with Clan Tyrith, as an attempt to bring permanent peace between the factions, he eagerly volunteered. In Anna’s family, he found the closeness he’d craved and the loving familiarity. Anna’s mother, Harriet, was gentle and adored gardening and treated him like a son. Even Barlow had been kind to him, tolerating Michael’s presence and teaching him to tend to the plants.

It was Barlow who instilled a love of botany in him.

Barlow had been almost like a father, until the day when Michael turned fully dragon and soared into the skies back to the Clan Tyrith compound. Delighted with his wings, he wanted to show them off to the foster family who mattered most to him.

At first, Barlow and his mate and three daughters cooed and admired his glittering black scales, and complimented his clumsy but persistent attempts at a vertical take-off. And then Anna had stroked a hand along his side, her touch setting off a different kind of fire inside Michael.

Barlow’s smile had instantly faded.

He’d seen something other than admiration shining in his eldest daughter’s eyes.

Barlow had curtly told him to leave. Hurt, Michael had departed, but he had seen that shining look on Anna’s face, too. He’d wanted to explore it when she grew of age.

Her father had other ideas.

Michael finished eating and washed the dishes. Bracing his hands on the sink, he stared out the opened window. A cool breeze drifted inside, ruffling his hair.

Most of Clan Tyrith were red dragons, smaller and more flexible than the larger, more intimidating black dragons who mostly inhabited his clan. There had been some intermarriages over the generations, for there were a few silver dragons and green ones at Clan Tyrith and he had seen a few in Clan Fury as well. But no blacks in Clan Tyrith and no reds in Clan Fury. No black dragon in hundreds of years had ever mated with a red dragon.

Time for that to change. When he mated with Anna, perhaps their union would bring about peace.

Or war.

Hearing a sound overhead, he peered upward and caught a glimpse of red through the thick trees. Michael ran outside and shaded his eyes against the sun, then slitted them to dragon pupils.

Anna, out for a morning flight. No mistaking the gold and silver threads flashing in the sun among her crimson scales.

Like other reds, she was small, the size of a fighter jet. But her compact size made for more maneuverability. He watched the red dragon soar into the sky and flip around like a top. Anna’s flying skills were most impressive. It was almost as if what she lacked in fire she had made up for in aerial ability.

Admiration filled him. Having never seen her fly before, it was breathtaking to simply behold her. He squinted to see if he could pick out her underbelly and the human skin. As she swept down lower, closer to the cottage, he saw it—and his blood went cold.

There. Ordinary human skin, as white and pale as snow. It had blended slightly against the sky, just as his black scales blended with night, but when she flew lower, it was quite obvious.

A very scary target.

Michael watched as she landed on the vast expanse of grass in the cottage’s back yard. Anna’s wings glittered in the sunshine. She arched her long neck, and then turned her head toward him.

Emerald eyes regarded him with steadiness. Two pale, bright patches of distinctly human skin stood out on her muzzle, like rouge on a human. Two silver horns protruded from her head and she grinned, displaying rows of sharp white teeth. And fangs, tough enough to pierce steel.

Relieved, he sighed. “At least you have good dental care,” he said in a teasing voice. “Your teeth look quite sharp.”

Sharp enough to bite your hand like I did when I was little.

Michael blinked. She had spoken inside his mind. He’d heard of this trait with true mates.

Delighted, he approached, and then caressed her scales with a gentle hand. They were tough and strong.

Shift and fly with me,
Anna urged.

One of your people will see. I’m supposed to lie low.

They won’t see you if we fly over the Lumen fields. No one ever goes there out of fear of disturbing the berries. Most are at the wildwood forest on the other side of the mountain. The Fae king of the northeast territory asked our help in harvesting ghost berries to try out with the local shifter population.

Ghost berries? They’re inedible. That myth about turning an Other invisible is just that—myth.

Not anymore. The Fae have discovered a way to make them edible and there’s a rumor the Fae can make them work on shifters.

Interesting. He tucked away a mental note to explore that notion later. Michael waved a hand.
Stand back. I take up a lot more room than you do, squirt.

Squirt!

Grinning, he stretched out his arms and called forth his magick as she crawled over to the cottage and onto the roof to wait for him.

It began, as it always did, with a slight pulling deep in his belly. It spread like fire, and warmth filled his veins, racing through his body like blood. The power rushed through him, a heady, wonderful feeling. He felt the familiar joy as if he soared upwards to the very heavens, and from one breath to another, he shifted into his black dragon form.

Everything became sharper and clearer. Power engulfed him as he stretched out his wings, feeling the muscles tense. He smelled the earth, the fresh air, and Anna’s delicious aroma of juniper, rainwater, and the musk of dragon.

Awe filled her voice inside his head.
You are magnificent. So big.

Michael grinned.
Big in many places.

Michael!

Let’s fly.

Flapping his wings, making the treetops bend and the leaves on the ground swirl, he lifted into the sky, soaring high. Soon as he reached the treetops, he hovered, waiting for Anna. She didn’t do a running start as he expected, but executed a perfect vertical takeoff. He whistled in his mind.

Impressive. For such a young dragon, you are strong.

I’m smaller than you, and faster.

Oh yeah? Watch this.

Delighted to soar into the air with her, he winged over the cottage and treetops, riding the air currents. Michael looked down and saw Anna flying just below him, beneath his belly. So startled was he, he nearly tumbled downward, then caught himself.

Damn, Anna Banana! Where did you learn that?

Stealth flying. My papa taught me. I’m much smaller than most dragons, so I can zip in and fly right under them without them even noticing.

They kept flying, the wind ripping against them, higher and higher. And then he banked left, flying toward the jagged peak of Mt. Washington. Higher and higher, and Anna kept up with him the entire time, as he soared upward.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a distant flash of red wings.
Shit!

It’s my father! Quick, descend to 2,000 feet!
She turned and winged downward like a dart.

But he was heavier and bigger and clumsier than the agile Anna, and could not turn as quickly to descend. Michael took a deep breath and did a dragon stall, folding his wings. Gravity kicked in and he fell, tumbling from the sky. In his mind, he heard her scream.

Michael, pull up! You’re descending too fast!

Easy, sweetheart. I’ve done this thousands of times.

I don’t want you to die!

I’m not going to die. I’m not even going to fall hard.

At 2,000 feet, he snapped out his wings, the tremendous muscles straining with the effort as he flapped them. But he’d trained hard under Xavier’s tutelage, and his wings were strong. They held him aloft as he slowly controlled his descent, landing in the cottage yard near Anna.

Michael shifted back to skin and conjured clothing. Anna did the same and rushed toward him. He caught her up in his arms.

“Easy, sweetheart. I’m fine. Not even a scratch.” He held out his right hand. “See.”

Glaring at him, she pulled away. “That was close.”