Before Dani could stop herself, she’d bolted forward, sliding to a halt with her toes hanging off into space. He’d still been mostly human when he’d vanished, but now she saw the turquoise Dragon arcing upward to vanish in the clouds, following in the wake of the golden one.
Something built inside her, painful and aching to be set free. But she squelched it, brutally. She did not want to follow those gorgeous male Dragons into the clouds.
She was Dire, and therefore lacked wings. Rather than flying beneath the moon, she ran like the wind.
And it was better that way.
* * *
Tyrez’s legs dangled over two thousand feet in the air as he admired the snow-capped Arandagian mountains.
The height was intimidating for many, but no big deal for a Dragon.
He sat on the ledge that accessed his bedroom. Tyrez’s joint status as a Legion soldier and the Emperor’s son had scored him a lofty apartment in the palace itself. He’d refused the more spacious quarters his mother, the Matriarch, had attempted to set up for him, as he wasn’t home often enough to make it worthwhile.
Truth be told, he’d rather curl up in the open air, even if on the ground, than sleep inside a house. Most of his kind had a natural loathing of enclosed spaces. All the living quarters in the palace had ceilings built to accommodate phase-one Dragons. The prime quarters faced into the sun, with large ledges outside the wall-sized windows, and open-concept interiors.
But walls were still walls.
He finished his first beer and opened another as he watched the first rays of the rising sun touch the horizon. He bought most of his food and definitely his beer in the human realm, along with a few other things. It took a lot of alcohol to affect a Dragon, and they recovered fast from it. He drank more for the flavor than the buzz.
He drained half the bottle in one go. Another long, unsuccessful night of searching for the Mover. The Dires kept catching her scent, but following it to the source was proving difficult.
Too bad he couldn’t just grab her from his dreams. She’d been in them so often lately that he’d become uneasy about it. Why was he so obsessed with the woman?
To be honest, she wasn’t the only one his mind fastened upon. The golden Dragon continually flitted through as well. Only fleeting but tantalizing glimpses, leaving him confused and frustrated.
He finished the bottle and opened a third. Maybe they would help him sleep.
He caught her scent an instant before the Dragona appeared. A brilliant scarlet form backwinged and landed neatly beside him on the ledge.
Tyrez rose to his feet. It was never wise to address a Dragona while seated. Particularly one so close to her cycle.
“Aranta,” he greeted, with the appropriate tone of respect.
She was already halfway to human and arched a brow at him. He winced internally, aware that while he’d been respectful, his enthusiasm lacked sincerity.
Of course, he’d slept very little over the last few days and nights. But the expression that emerged as her features settled had a hint of pique.
Not good.
Rather than completing her shift, Aranta arced her wings attractively around her and swayed toward Tyrez.
He swallowed reflexively. Even without the pheromones radiating off her, she’d be stunning. Most Dragonas possessed proportions only an artist could dream of—full hips, tiny waists, and large breasts. Her eyes glittered scarlet as she stopped only inches away from him.
She’d arranged her brilliant scales for maximum sexual appeal, swirling around her body and yet managing to leave so much exposed as to tantalize without revealing.
“It is almost time, Tyrez,” she purred throatily. “Are you ready for me?”
Her presence shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. Mostly because Tyrez had completely forgotten about being part of Aranta’s mating band.
For Dragons, mating was usually about reproduction rather than permanent emotional attachment. Most Dragonas happily lived in colonies with minimal male involvement for long periods of time. But roughly every fifteen years, they came into their reproductive cycle.
When they experienced the first physical signs, the Dragona selected a band of males from which she would eventually choose a mate. Usually only one would be successful, but she could select two or more.
As the elite of the Emperor’s fighting force, Legion males were often chosen by the Dragonas as prospective mates. Young as he was, Tyrez had already been chosen as the prime male for two matings, and had a daughter and a son from them. Razir was thirteen years younger than Tyrez, but he already had a son from a single mating.
Tyrez was bewildered by his reaction to Aranta. Or, rather, his lack of it. Cycle sex among Dragons was intense and much sought after by the males. Her pheromones were doing their bit—his blood thundered in his ears and his entire body vibrated with raw, aching need. But why was it combined with reluctance rather than anticipation? As she stared at him, his brain scrambled for a response that wouldn’t involve him losing a precious body part.
