Suddenly, our ritual has strength and depth, like the ancient movements of the cosmos itself. It’s then that I’m thrust into the dreamtime, my eyelids flickering shut as I sink back to my pillowed hands upon the table.
Baldur comes to me now, whispering his fingertips over my back.
Beautiful.So beautiful,he breathes in that ancient space we now occupy, as the entire Void of the cosmos expands around me. Because I’ve been taken right through the dreamtime and past the Veil by Baldur’s power—and he’s there with me, standing strong in it like the beautiful, bright leviathan he is.
Baldur may not be a Bloodwalker, but he’s got more ability in the Void than most Bloodwalkers ever could, I understand now. As he whispers his fingertips like fiery-cool paintbrushes over my skin, indulging touching me for a moment at the small of my back, I feel our connection made.
Fiery and deep, cool and controlled, the connection we already share is magnificent, as I see his Blood Magic drake coil up into the stars all around me.
Baldur looks like a galaxy being born, as his ancient Blood Magic drake surrounds me now in the Void. Blues and whites like gaseous clouds form his spreading mantle and coiling, sinuous body and tail; searing opal-gold, reds, and purples make up his strong talons, wing tips, and spikes.
But the most prominent color that spreads all through him is the vast, ultra-violet energy of the cosmos itself. Though he can’t speak with the Ancestors like I can, his aura has become one with that place, from practicing his own innate arts for centuries, honing them just so to help me right now.
And his sigildry is what gets him there. I see tens of thousands of ancient sigil-phrases I can’t even begin to translate flare up all around us in thecosmos now. Baldur traces them over my back, using his gentle fingertips as his brushes.
His very own dragon-aura his paint.
Slowly, he paints his ancient sigildric phrases over my skin with his fingertips. I feel them sink deep into my body, spreading out into my aura, one with the cosmos right now, as Baldur traces every part of my shoulders, ass, and back.
I see those sigils come alive on my skin and inside me, as I also see them spiral through my dragon-aura in the Void. I watch those curling, ancient runes paint me all over like blue woad; but it’s sky-blue and dark cerulean, midnight and bright star-white all at once, like Baldur’s dragon-coloring.
Gradually, his sigils paint themselves deep into my body as he works, until I see those beautiful sky-colors tracing through me, everywhere. As they fill my physical body, they fill my aura, as well; Baldur takes his time, stroking his fingertips over me like a lover’s touch, slow and intense, passionate yet intimate.
As he works, his dragon-aura coiling all around me in the stars, painting me as his earthly body does it down below, I can feel the immense restraint and power he’s built up for centuries.
It’s all so he could be here right now, so he could use himself, like the paint and brushes of the Creator itself, to help the drakaina he was destined for. Me, the person he believes will be the strongest Bloodwalker of this age, thanks to his sister’s visions.
The one woman he had to wait for—for millennia.
Don’t get me wrong.I hear his voice in my mind now, flowing into me effortlessly as he chuckles, though he continues to work.I’ve had plenty of drakainas over the years. A drake doesn’t live way out in the wilds, completely alone for millennia. My many lovers have come and gone, Rikyava, as I practiced this dance for centuries, waiting for you…
You’ve done this for many dragons,I note now, as we converse mind-to-mind while he works.You’ve healed a lot of your kin this way.
Yes.I feel him smile at me. I can see his face and body in my mind nowas he moves around the table, still sliding his fingers over me.I have done this for many over the years, helping them heal and find a different fate, though I make them forget this place when they leave. But none of them were you, and so none of my healings have felt quite… this way. What I feel about you now.
As he speaks, I feel Baldur open up something inside himself. As if he simply opens a door, letting me in to his most personal space, I feel his emotions and sensations—what he’s feeling right now as he works—cascade through me for my perusal.
Amazement and sensuality fill me now from him, an intense awareness that he’s finally touching, finally helping, the one woman he was destined for. Everything about our encounter sets him alive and on fire with intimacy and passion. It’s all controlled so as to not let it spill over into me and force the bonded connection I’m still railing against, thanks to my stubborn battle with fate.
It’s as if Baldur can’t help sharing this part of himself with me now, however, to let me know what he’s feeling. As his sensations flood me, I feel how he still keeps all of his thoughts and emotions back from sweeping me away, still letting it be my choice if I bond him.
That one touch of his passion, his depth, and his feeling of blissful fulfillment from even being able to touch me and work on me in this moment, however, is enough. It sets everything inside me thrilling with a deep, hot surge of passion.
Flooding through me as if all the glaciers of the world suddenly melted to a falling star’s fiery burst.
My lips fall open as everything between us intensifies a hundredfold. I can’t remain still in it; I have to push up off the table, to roll over and arch, falling back to the table face up now, as my own hands begin to move and touch myself.
I cry out as Baldur’s fingertips skate lovingly over my chest and belly, continuing to work but also doing something else now. As I reach up and grip my fingers into my hair, shuddering and arching in waves onthe table with an ecstasy I’ve never felt the likes of, I feel Baldur’s energy not just painting me in his usual healing, but easing deep into my core.
As if he can’t help himself, as if all of this is just too impossibly erotic for him, too, I feel him losing his long-practiced restraint. He’s crawling up onto the table with me now, though I feel him pause, then strip away his own clothing, until he’s naked, just like me.
As he crawls over me, every inch of his incredible starlight-blue and white tattoos blaze. He doesn’t let his lean, mean body touch me, however, as one hand brushes over me again.
I open my eyes to look up.
And see his dragon, vibrant in the Void, watching me.
Baldur’s blue eyes are dark as the cosmos now, and blazing as stars being born, as that ring of diamond-white shines around his irises. I feel his inner Blood Magic drake roil, blistering him deep inside as it surges in the cosmos, wanting so hard to take me.
