Page 169 of Evil Hearts

Oryn continues walkingalone until coming to the dark stone bridge spanning the river that runs from a spring deep in the wood. He watches the rippling water as it disappears under the bridge and inhales the cool air wafting up to greet him. After a few moments of listening to the burbling, he traverses the blackened bridge. On the other side, more glowing insects fly, their bright bodies blinking every so often. Before settling in his clearing between the waterfalls, Oryn always takes a trip down to the small beach in Islwyn’s territory, so he can look across the wetlands. Once, Cruor would greet him on the edge of his own territory and they would speak for a time. Given Islwyn’s explanation of events, Oryn doubted he would see the lindwyrm, but the Prince wanted to make the effort even if it didn’t result in seeing Cruor.

Green moss and grass make way for bare earth, then sand, and bright sunshine has him blinking to adjust to the change. Once he’s clear of the thick canopy of trees, the scent of the ocean slams into him. Its salty brine aroma is so different from the heavy redolent breeze of the Wood it’s jarring, but no less wonderful. The sun warms Oryn’s scales and for a time, he simply lets the warmth overtake him. The Prince basks inthe warm glow, his face upturned to greet it as he inhales the aromatic sea breeze meddling with the floral sweetness drifting from the Nathairfae.

When Oryn has finally had his fill of the beautiful beach, he wanders back into the canopy and the cliffside clearing he’d chosen the first time he fed the Wood. He’d originally picked it because it was surrounded by water, and overlooked the intercoastal waterways of the island, but now it feels like a home away from home. Lifting off the ground, Oryn flaps his wings just enough to carry himself safely over a waterfall, his back claws just grazing the surface of the fast-moving water. Once he lands, Oryn sprawls onto the soft moss blanketing the ground.

A gold-winged faedragon flies toward him, one speckled saprophyte clutched in his tiny claws. The creature bobs in the air under the weight of the red-capped mushroom, and Oryn’s chest warms at the sight. His coloring proves he’s the product of the Prince’s previous visit, and seeing the proof of his care for the land brings forward a sense of accomplishment he hadn’t ever grown accustomed to. Much like Sprout bore the green coloring of Islwyn due to the wyvern’s feeding of the land with his own power, each faedragon born from Oryn’s contributions bears his gold and black coloring. Once, each species of dragon would take time to visit the various locations throughout Drandaris, feeding the land and helping it to prosper. Since relations with the humans had grown rocky, many others have done away with the habit. The land suffers, as does its inhabitants, but each year it becomes more dangerous to allow their power to be siphoned off. It left the dragons vulnerable to the attacks of the humans who had grown to hate them. With their numbers dwindling as is, it just isn’t an option as it had once been.

When another gilded faedragon bobs its way toward Oryn with another saprophyte, he sits up, holding open his clawed hands tothem. After dropping off their cargo, each golden creature flies away, tiny chirping noises trailing behind them as they return to the trees. Popping both mushrooms in his mouth, the Prince chews and swallows them quickly, grimacing at their strange flavor. Despite their sour taste, the saprophytes bring on nearly uncontrollable joy more often than not, and after waiting six years to get out of his lair, the wild delight is exactly what Oryn needs.

Laying on his forelegs, his belly in contact with the mossy earth, Oryn connects with the Nathairfae, his own magic reaching into the ground he’s in contact with to mingle amid that of the Wood. He looks up at the swaying branches of the canopy and listens to the rustle of the leaves as he grows accustomed to the magic of the forest. In moments Oryn’s ears are used to the gentle blowing of the leaves through the trees, and the sound of rushing water crashing into the rocks below joins in making a song only he seems to hear. His eyes close while his body grows heavy, but the Prince doesn’t fight it. He welcomes the calm before the excitement to come. The last time he was here, he had somehow ended up dangling from a tree, insisting the faedragons feed him nothing but berries, but each time is different. Each experience the saprophytes bring is new and Oryn never knows exactly what to expect. His mind relaxes as the mushrooms take hold, and it feels as if he’s in a space between sleeping and waking. Not altogether present, or even corporeal, yet he can feel the moss under himself, he can hear the wind in the trees. Oryn’s body begins to heat and tingle before he loses himself.

Chapter Five

Oryn wakes withthe gentle sounds of the Wood in his ears, his mouth is dry, and his eyelids are heavy. When he finally opens his leaden lids, his vision is blurry. A snapping branch has his senses returning to him too quickly and his stomach lurches. The Prince had never felt unsafe in the Nathairfae, but then again, he hadn’t ever heard a sound that felt sinister while visiting before. Oryn’s eyes dart around the clearing, but he can’t seem to shake the disorientation he feels. His viewpoint isn’t coming from his position on the ground, instead, it’s as if Oryn is staring down at himself from above. Almost as if his consciousness is floating above his body and observing what’s taking place instead of being involved in it. Looking down on himself, he can see his golden crystals glinting in the dim light like a halo around his head while others stand out against his beautiful sable hide. Oryn watches himself look around the clearing in search of the noise, and again, his stomach rolls under the forced perception he’s experiencing. In the back of his mind he knows it’s because of the saprophytes and their conscious expanding chemicals, but the knowledge does little for his disquieted stomach. Blinking rapidly, his eyesight returns to his body and he’s looking through hisown eyes again. The transition is a jolting one, and his already uncomfortable stomach protests.

Collecting himself the best he can, Oryn once more tries to look around the clearing in search of whatever, or whomever, made the noise. Finally, he catches sight of a pair of eyes looking at him from within a weeping, flowering tree. Its whiplike branches conceal most of the creature, but given how near to the ground its eyes are, Oryn guesses it’s a human. Squinting into the swaying branches, He tilts his head one way, then the other while trying to get a better view of the concealed human. How had it gotten here? Was it going to attack him? Were there more of them laying in wait to overpower him? Oryn’s talons clench, gouging deep lines into the moss and dirt under his feet as he prepares for an attack.

When a female face pokes out from behind the thin limbs, a seemingly curious look covering its beautiful features, he softens. Her being a woman doesn’t mean she won’t harm him, but something about how she’s looking at him makes Oryn feel as if she doesn’t intend to. Deep brown eyes stare out at the Prince from atop a pointed nose and full lips. She looks almost fox-like in her beauty, all sharp edges and upswept lines. She isn’t scared, or even malicious as he first suspected of his observer. Instead, her secretive, sidelong glances give her actions a sultry undertone that has his skin prickling with anticipation.

Behind the languidly swaying lavender foliage, her lips quirk upward in a grin and her eyes follow her lips, making their slight slant deepen even further. The woman bites her lower lip, and a chuckle that’s both deep and melodious flows from her. The woman’s playfulness is catching, and Oryn’s own chest brightens with laughter even though he keeps it pinned behind his teeth. He can feel the telltale glowing heat of his happiness at the base of his neck, and he doesn’t even attempt to clear itaway. For some reason, Oryn feels as if he knows her, though it’s impossible. Something pricks in his mind telling him she’s safe, she’s comfortable, she’s familiar. Try as he might, the feeling won’t go away, and the longer Oryn looks at the hidden woman, the more he wants her to come to him.

From her position behind the swaying branches of the tree, the Prince catches glimpses of her clothing. A loose cream colored tunic is covered by a sleeveless surcoat, both of them topping a pair of leather trousers. Her surcoat is golden in color and so beautifully embroidered that it reminds him of the work of the Keepers from the distant past. Though, given the group’s separation, he knows it can’t be anything they might have produced. Her clothing has Oryn even more curious as to who she is. When she retreats, hiding within the foliage once more, he becomes tense as his eyes dart around, looking for any sign of her. Despite his desire to search for her, the Prince fears he will frighten her if he moves from his position on the ground.

When the woman appears again, she’s not only missing the golden surcoat, but her leather pants have been removed as well. Now, in her position sitting atop a blackened boulder, turned slightly away from him, Oryn can fully see her bare legs. They are thick and muscular, and even from the distance he can see she has a rugged and physically fit body for a human female, as if she’d spent her life training to be a warrior. The Orcran Tribes aren’t the only ones who train their young to fight, after all. Images of humans paired up swinging wooden sticks at one another comes to his mind before the woman on the boulder bends her leg, showing him the curve or her powerful thighs and its connection to her ample ass. Oryn blinks in surprise, his thick but nimble tongue flying from between his teeth to taste the air before he can stop it. Many years of being told the action is besteal and unsightly, that only lesser dragons act as such, have him chastising himself, but he couldn’t control the urge. Aftertasting the air, he’s glad he couldn’t control himself. Sweetness and arousal coat his sensitive taste buds, and Oryn drools, the liquid pooling in the back of his mouth.

Swallowing, he tilts his head to the side, hoping to get a better view of her body. In response, the woman lowers her leg and faces him directly before spreading her thighs. Both of her hands fall between her legs, blocking his sight from what he knows is her sex. He owns human anatomy books, of course, and he’s studied them thoroughly and with fervent hope. Yet, Oryn never expected to have the privilege of seeing one so closely. Not with the upheaval in the world. He assumed he would die without having experienced a woman.

When his foxy female bites her full lower lip before she moves her hands away, allowing him to just glimpse her glistening center, his chest brightens almost instantly. Oryn’s tongue flicks from his mouth once more, tasting her lust in the sweet air. Her cheeks brighten into a blush and she raises the hem of her cream-colored tunic to reveal herself to him completely. The fabric continues to rise, exposing her breasts to Oryn, and he releases a deep, rumbling purr.

Once free of her tunic, the woman leans back on her hands, causing her small, but breathtaking chest to jut forward while her legs remain open. Unable to deny his need, Oryn leans toward her, his belly sliding against the moss-covered ground by a miniscule amount. Noticing his movement, she raises a single dark brow at him, then almost imperceptibly, her tongue pushes through her pouty lips and rests under her cupid’s bow. In seconds it retreats back into her mouth and she lifts a hand to her throat, wrapping her short fingers around it and rolling her head to one side, then allowing it to fall backward as if she’s been overtaken by pleasure. Oryn watches her move with fascination, unsure why she is acting in such a way, but unwilling to stop her. Swallowing hard, the Prince’s eyes devour her, slowing in all theplaces he wishes his tongue could taste, his taloned hands could touch. Would she like the feel of their sharpness against her soft body, or would he need to retract them? When her hand moves, sliding down her chest, he can see the sinews of her muscles tense as her fingers graze her skin and, once more, he slides himself closer to her. This time, the Prince chances a greater distance.

A sultry chuckle escapes the woman before him, and Oryn knows his movement didn’t go unnoticed. Even though she seems aware of his coming closer, his fox hasn’t been spooked. Instead, her hand glides toward one of her hard nipples as if she’s been emboldened by his interest in her body. Her fingertips barely skim the pebbled flesh before retracing their path and continuing to her other sensitive bud. This time she slows and grasps herself, inhaling sharply. Oryn’s head shoots upward and his talons dig into the earth as her body reacts in a wave. First her chest rises, then her hips roll in a slow bucking motion that has him throbbing with need.

Moving once more, Oryn lifts himself off the ground to avoid dragging his slit across the dirt. Already the protective pouch is struggling to hold back his engorged cocks and the pressure will be excruciating against him. The woman peeks at the Prince, her brow raised once more. Again, she moves her hand, but this time she sends it to splay over her muscular abdomen before rolling her hips in the same sensual way as she just had. With her hand moving ever lower, Oryn watches as it passes over a tuft of dark hair then slides against her glistening pussy. Two of her fingers slip lower then rise back up to open herself to him before repeating the motion.

“Who are you?” Oryn asks her. “How did you come to be in the Nathairfae?”

“You’ve already been thinking of us as a fox,” the woman replies, her voice artfully sly. “Consider that my name for thetime being. How we came to be here is of no real concern. Though,” she says, her head bobbing back and forth while her eyes look skyward as if she can pluck information from above, “without a suitable explanation, you will be unable to enjoy our time together.” She sighs and shrugs before continuing, “The Nathairfae has brought us to you.”

Oryn glances between her legs to find her fingers still playing around her soaking opening.

“Or, at least the fruit of the Wood has,” she adds, looking pointedly at a patch of red and white saprophytes growing near the edge of the clearing. “What you truly wish to ascertain is if we intend you harm. To which our response is, even if we wanted to do so, we would be unable. We are only here to fulfill your desires,” she says, her tongue resting on her top lip again. “So unless you desire to be harmed,” the woman grins darkly, stirring something in Oryn, “which we sincerely doubt, you’re safe enough.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘we’?” Oryn questions. He squints at her and the woman chuckles.

“Because we are. There is I, and there is she, but we are both. We are we.” She explains and the Prince shakes his head in confusion. “We can simplify and call ourselves I for your comfort, Prince,” she adds, and he nods slowly.

“Are you intentionally enticing me?” Oryn asks, his eyes unable to move away from her moving fingers. At his question, she slides one finger into herself. When it’s removed, the appendage glistens and the Prince gulps.

“Only if you desire to be enticed in such a manner,” his fox says before plunging her finger back inside herself and inhaling sharply. “I have heard that a dragon can only be enticed, as you called it, when he chooses to be. Though there are so many tales of your kind it’s difficult to sort out the fact from the fallacy.Perhaps our time together can be enlightening for both of us. As all companionable relationships should be.”

“You began this before I showed signs of desire,” Oryn insists, leaving his mouth open slightly, his tongue flicking behind his sharp teeth.

“Untrue,” she says, her tone chastising. “You showed a desire for me the moment you saw me. It’s not my fault you have little control over your body.”

Oryn jerks upright at her words, his chest puffing out in annoyance while losing its heated glow. His fox frowns at the sudden change in his mood and she huffs aloud.

“I only meant that I could see your interest in me even before I removed my clothing, not that it’s a bad thing. Feeling desired, especially by one you yourself desire, is a very good thing indeed.”

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