Page 6 of Don't Fae With Dragons

“I am Maxenthius.”

At my ...briefself-introduction, the volcano’s dragon snarls and steps forward. Port stops him in his tracks with a squeaking plea, “Great ruler! I apologize on behalf of my companion. We are weary from travel, and he is, well, a bit of a quiet fellow. We mean no offense, and certainly mean no harm.”

The dragon replies, never taking his eyes off me, “You should do the talking from here on out, then, shouldn’t you?”

I smirk softly at his snark, and he roars violently before bounding up to me.

“You dare mock me?” he yells. “Inmyhomeland? While in peril of your own?”

Okay, I’ll admit, this dragon is terrifying. I must have accidentally shown some of my momentary panic, because he sees something in my face that seems to reassure him that I’m no threat. Or maybe he can smell it on me. I bow my head calmly, trying to emphasize,hey, I’m a cocky alpha bastard, but I’m no danger, and he gives me a subtle nod. Port watches this entire interaction with a look of utter horror and confusion.

The dragon takes a deep breath and shifts into human form, and I’m struck (and jealous) of his rugged handsomeness. It’s almost annoying, this fearsome dragon having such a characteristically attractive human form. Damn that broad chestand strong arms. I bite my tongue from launching some secretly-complimentary insult, and wait.

After a pause, the volcano’s ruler speaks. “What business have you, then, here? Why have you landed in this realm?”

“We are seeking refuge, as Port – Porthos – has mentioned. A bounty of sorts has been placed upon our heads, though we have committed no crime.”

The ruler raises an eyebrow, and smirks. “Why should I not kill you, then?”

Port’s eyes almost jump out of his head. “Great ruler–”

“–Oh, I doubt you would.” I interrupt. “You don’t seem the type. Too ... noble. I can smell that alpha honor on you.”

It seems the volcano ruler has quickly changed his opinion of me, because he throws his head back (glorious bronze hair flowing out behind his head – damn him!) and laughs raucously. Port looks at me, deeply disturbed by our sudden camaraderie, apparently. I shrug, smiling mischievously, and laugh alongside the dragon-man. I walk to Port and clap him on the shoulder, encouraging him to join the jest –and perhaps secretly relishing his terror. Port quickly forces a chuckle, and the ruler laughs even harder.

After at least a minute, the volcano’s ruler stops laughing and wipes a single tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s good,” he says. “Fine, stay, do what you will. Ground rules: do not challenge my authority, as I am the sovereign of this volcano, its guardian, its soleAlpha guardian.” Again, I hold back an eye roll, but I nod all the same. Port nods as well, much more solemn than me.

After a few minutes of negotiations, promised-favors, and ground rules, we’re let into the volcano.

“I am Corinthian,” says the man, with a strikingly confident smile, “though I suppose ‘Cory’ will suffice.”

“Oh, call me ‘Max,’ then,” I say.

Port chimes in, “Yes, just ‘Port’ will do.”

Cory looks over us once more, shaking his head. “You two seem like a troublesome bunch, but I’m intrigued nonetheless.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” I reply.

At that, Cory shakes his head. Port presses his fingers to his forehead, seemingly exhausted with my nonsense for the day, and I grin at him. “The volcano’s shadow guardians will show you to your rooms,” Cory says. “I’ll be about.” Then, just like that, he walks off and is gone.

“Well,” I say. “Volcano life, here we come.”

CHAPTER 5: MILI

Today, I’ve decided, I will put behind me the agonies of yesterday, not just my nightmare but also thinking about that god-awful dragon up the volcano. That enticing, strong, alpha,god-awfuldragon that I clearly love to hate. Anyway, I need to stay focused. I will bring myself peace, however I can - a bubble bath and a tub of pistachio cream would be nice, but not today. Aurora shall sleep, and I should let myself consider what our relationship really means to me as it stands. Every moment we spend together lately, even last night, serves as a reminder that my feelings have not caught up to hers. Not to mention that my instincts are starting to pull me in a different direction, away from her. Every small breeze streaming down from the volcano is intoxicating. It draws me in. But I need to focus because most importantly, today I visit the ancient spirit of my grandmother to ask for wisdom.

My grandmother rests in the core of a sugar maple that has lived for many centuries. When she passed, as my parents told me, they cried as they buried her body beneath the tree. Their tears watered the earth where she lay, and her spirit became entwined with the nature of the great maple’s roots.

It’s early in the morning, and almost all the woodland’s inhabitants are resting. Still, there are some awake, peering through the canopy or the brush underfoot.

I walk carefully along the stone walkway through the forest, smiling softly at the resting gnomes in their fungi houses. A mailman travels from mushroom to mushroom, carrying leaf parchment with Ethelindan news; I wave softly to him as I pass.

Once I reach the lake, my sanctuary, I turn and continue East along the path. It’s a short hundred paces and I’ve reached the sugar maple. I gently unfurl the quilt I’ve brought and place it on the roots of the tree; I’ve found through many years coming here that being among the roots and leaves helps me connect most closely to my kin.

I breathe and close my eyes, resting my palms on the roots in front of the blanket. Sleeping energy pulses beneath my hands, and I know my grandmother does not expect me. Best to be gentle waking her, then.

“Grandmother,” I murmur, tracing a finger along a scar in the bark. “It’s Milica. I’d like to speak with you, if you are able.”

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