Page 31 of Daghel

Twenty-One

DAGHEL

We stay within the village until the sun begins to sink and the temperatures begin to drop with a distinct icy chill that makes my wyva shiver despite our proximity to the fire. Those with children have already withdrawn from the fires to the warmth of their homes, but I’m certain it will not be much longer before the others follow them. We could have left long ago, but after the unpleasantness with that Chelsea female—one that she was fortunate to escape unscathed—I wanted Anya to enjoy every bit of the festivities. But the snow is coming down heavily now and the winds are starting to kick up, threatening a blizzard to fall upon the peaks tonight.

Tucking her beneath my arm, I wrap the edge of my cloak firmly around her as an extra barrier against the dangerous cold of the mountains. I can hear the disturbing click of her teeth. It is far too cold for her. She is not a Cold Mountain orc with ice andfire in her veins. There is no way to proceed with her, not in good conscience.

“Perhaps we should stay here,” I rumble as I squint up at the darkening skies. I may have misjudged the weather—a storm is definitely moving in. “It is too cold to take you back tonight, not with a blizzard coming. There is a tavern where we can get lodgings and?—”

“A blizzard?” Her head shoots up to meet my gaze before whipping back to the street. “No, we can’t possibly stay here. Drisk is out there waiting for us. I know that you say he can stay warm, but I won’t have him out in that overnight, much less in the cold for days if it is as bad as you say.”

“Anya,” I growl in warning, but she shoots me a hard look, her jaw hard and her blue eyes as cold as ice in her determination. I will not admit that privately it warms my heart that she is so insistent on looking out for Drisk’s comfort as well—it is something that every gathol dreams of from their mate—but I refuse to overlook her safety. “Drisk will be fine. Wyverns are accustomed to the storms and bitter temperatures of the Cold Mountains. You felt how well he warmed the floors of our bedchamber. He can find a cave and be comfortable enough.”

“No. He is mine too, and I’m not leaving him out there alone.” Her eyes narrow on me. “Do not think to force me to comply with this, Daghel, or you will regret it. I will not allow my ability to make choices for myself to be taken from me by anyone.”

I stare at her in frustration, a low growl rumbling deep within my chest.

“Fine,” I snarl as I bend down and scoop her up into my arms, drawing her completely against my warmth. I tug my cloak firmly around us and hold it together with the fingers of one hand as I proceed down the road at a quicker pace. We draw a few looks from those orcs remaining on the streets because ofher bright red curls just visible above my cloak, but I don’t spare them even a cursory glance as I storm down the street.

She makes a happy little sound as I carry her so that I cannot be too frustrated with her. Truthfully, my heart warms with pleasure as I adjust my hold on her, cradling her lovingly against my chest as I make my way swiftly to the outer edge of the village. By the time we leave the village, however, I am feeling a greater edge of concern knifing through me. Within such a short distance, the wind has already picked up, whipping my hair around even as the cold bites harder and far more brutally as it stings us with flying snow. In the midst of this, Drisk drops from his ledge like a phantom, his glowing amber eyes the only truly identifiable thing about him as he rushes toward us, the snow crunching loudly beneath his weight.

“What do you think you are doing coming out here?”Drisk demands, and I meet his gaze with a frustrated glower.

“She refused to leave your scaly hide outside,” I bite out despite my desire to laugh at the ridiculousness of this entire argument and the urge to hug my female tightly for her big heart.

The wyvern’s ridged brows lower, making his features appear more drawn and deadly.“I can look after myself well enough, female. You should return to the village and stay warm. I will keep watch until the storm moves in, but will have no trouble finding shelter.”

“I said no,” Anya replies, her voice as icy as the summits of White Peak that rise at the heart of the Cold Mountains, a peak which never thaws even in the warmest of seasons. “It is bad enough that the villages do not accommodate wyverns, but I will not leave any of my family to fend for themselves out in the cold.Never.”

That gives me pause, melting some of my frustration. Anya never does anything without reason, even if it is a reason that I do not fully understand.

“Anya,” I murmur, but she turns a beseeching gaze on me that tears at my heart.

“Please. Don’t ask it of me. You do not know what it was like to be cold and suffering, left in a freezing room alone with nothing but a few shabby blankets and a miserable little fire built over the coals you are forced to ration so that you don’t freeze to death. Seeing my siblings getting sick and weak and yet being forced to stumble out into the streets day after day to make enough to coins to buy food with, never knowing if they would survive. The aching cold—it gives me nightmares still. Please,” she whispers, her gaze turning to Drisk, “I cannot leave you out here.”

The wyvern’s eyes widen with surprise but then brighten with an unmistakable glow of love kindling within him. His gaze softens as the amber warms and brightens to a deep honey, though he huffs and irritably expels a tiny flame from his mouth.

“Very well,”he growls,“but the flight will be colder than the seventh infernal ring of killing ice and snow. It will not be a kind one.”

Anya nods quickly in agreement, her blue eyes bright with such relief that, even if I had the resolve to rally another battle of wills against her, I could never deny her.

“I will hold you beneath my cloak so that your head is well covered,” I grumble. “It should cut some of the cold, but try not to wiggle around too much when Drisk makes the connection.”

“Use this,”Drisk suggests unhappily as he hands me a length of blue and silver ribbon with delicate sapphire tassels.“Bind her hand securely around you once you have mounted. She will need it.”

Sighing heavily, I turn to Drisk and wait as the wyvern carefully lowers himself into the snow. Shifting Anya’s weight into one arm, I grasp the leather wrapped metal loops at the fore of the saddle and swing up onto the wyvern’s shoulders. Drisk grunts under our combined weight, but he does not make a sound of complaint. He merely waits patiently as I knot one end of the ribbon around Anya’s right wrist, leaving a long tail. Drawing the excess length around my waist, I fashion another knot around her other wrist so that her arms are tightly around me before double-knotting the remaining ends against my stomach.

“Done,” I tell him as I lift my flight mask in place. Wrapping my arm snugly around her, I follow with wrapping my cloak tightly around us with my free hand.

With another grunt of acknowledgment, Drisk rises from the snow and slowly turns as he stands on his hind legs. Craning his head back toward the skies, his arms lift and his wings spread wide to snap down as he powerfully leaps into the air. The violently quick beats of his wings as he rises into the air booms through the atmosphere, interrupted by his shriek as he fills his lungs, stoking his inner fires to help him ascend faster even as his scales warm rapidly beneath us. The pulse of his strand encircling and sliding deep within my cock makes me moan quietly in response to the seductive heat that is such a startling contrast to the coolness of his mind as it joins mine. From beneath my cloak, I hear Anya’s answering moan to the connection, and I tighten my hold around her, my eyes rolling back briefly at the dual sensations of Drisk’s penetration and Anya’s softness rubbing enticingly against me.

Through my bond with Drisk, however, I can feel the billow of his lungs working powerfully as he fights against the storm pulling at us and the tension of his chest muscles with every pump of his great wings. As he warned, however, there is nogentle glide awaiting us as we reach altitude to compensate for the harshness of lifting off from the mountain. It is just the opposite. Without the protection of the peak, the wind strikes us mercilessly, driving with a strength that has sent many lesser, younger wyverns lost amongst the mountains. Anya’s frightened gasps as she clings to me fill my ears, making my heart pound faster in a raging crescendo as the winds howl viciously around us.

The wind tugs so ferociously that it feels as if it is threatening to steal her away. I clasp her tighter to me, my teeth bared beneath my flight mask as we fight against it. The snow is a twisting cone of violence blasting toward us with a cold, merciless malevolence. And within it I can feel the darkness sliding through the night, darting between the frigid gusts of snow as it barrels toward us. I know the moment that it catches up to us. I feel the sinuous slide of it against my senses. I can even taste the sharp, unidentifiable sting of it on the air, a bitter coldness that rivals even the iciest wind and the merciless sheets of snow.

It wraps around us, sliding over me with a wicked seductiveness that makes my cock painfully tight. Anya feels it too. She writhes against me with a needy moan, and I clamp down on her instinctively, not only holding her against my aching cock, but also to prevent her from knocking the cloak loose. Still the tendrils of the darkness slide against us erotically, tightening its hold on us and on Drisk as if demanding to feast on our pleasure. I fight against the urge to take my mate, despite the pull of the darkness on my cock working in counterpoint to the grasp of Drisk’s strand. It is drawing my seed up heavily within my sack, making my cock thicker and its ridges more swollen with the need it enflames. The darkness teases me, whispering temptations in to my mind to let it in as my matequivers against me mindlessly, her little pants becoming more desperate.

“Please,” she rasps, her voice quivering from the brutal effects of the cold and the feverish desire that the darkness stokes to life.

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