Page 9 of Daghel

I drag the nose bridge of my flight mask against her hair and inhale the sweet perfume of her natural scent. Although there is something floral that she clearly applied to herself at some earlier point, it has faded to reveal a much more pleasant tapestry of flavors. I revel in it.

“At last, a mate of our own,” Drisk croons happily, his head turning back to glance at the female sheltered in my arms.“She is perfect. She is so small and soft. And she smells good. I am certain she tastes good, too. And she is all ours!”

I rumble in agreement, anticipation rising in an exhilarating rush within my chest. I want to caution him not to get too excited too soon, as such abductions often result in a reticent mate who will require much patience with little immediate reward, but the words are stuck in my throat, unwilling to spoil this moment for us. Because regardless of how displeased she is with the situation, Drisk had uttered one absolute certainty: she is ours.Willing or not, she will have little choice but to accept her lot with us. She could always choose to go to another lone male or bonded gathol within the clan, but few will take on what belongs to a drehl once I get her into my rookery.

My lips twist in amusement. For once, my curse will work in my favor.

In the end, she will eventually come to appreciate our tender care and affection, which will leave room for lasting bonds to grow. Not through force, but because, unlike so many other males who take advantage of the vulnerability of their human mates to control or toy with them, I have no such intention. She will receive my respect and loyalty from the first, as is because of her.

“You think too much,”Drisk points out mirthfully.“The scenting always proves true. She will match well with us and meet us pleasure for pleasure.”

“I seek more than pleasure,” I mutter under my breath, and Drisk releases a brassy bellow of what passes for wyvern laughter.

But I am a little reassured by his observation. While many orcs steal mates based on a moment of attraction, a wyvern’s choosing by scent is nearly always infallible. But it only guarantees compatibility—that she will respond to mating overtures. Beyond that it is far more complicated, but I look forward to the challenge of a drehl seeking to steal a female’s heart. I snarl triumphantly behind my mask, shifting forward in the saddle so that I am leaning forward over Drisk’s shoulders as his wings pick up speed as we climb the mountains, nearly grazing the snowcapped rocks in our passing. Higher and higher we climb until suddenly Drisk’s wings snap wide into a glide as we sail over the summit.

Peaks gather and pass beneath us, and after a moment I feel the human shift against me, her head dipping as she stares downat mountaintops jutting up like so many diamonds to catch the light of the sun. Her breath hitches on a little sigh and my gaze drops as I take in the same view, remembering the awe I felt the first time I mounted Drisk during the daylight hours, still aching and raw from being mounted by him the prior night. I had felt the same wonder that she feels now but with it had also been an understanding of the exchange given between wyvern and orc to allow such a valuable partnership. An exchange that she will also understand when she submits her body to be opened up by his fierce prick.

My cock tightens in my breeches, and I nearly growl with the desperate need to squeeze it beneath my palm to find some relief. I am eager to see her impaled by the merciless rut of a wyvern, mounted by him so that she climbs the heavens in spirit with him in the same way she climbs through the skies on his back. To hear her scream, her cunt creaming in its tight grasp around his cock as he pounds from one climax straight into another.

I know the moment she feels the thick length of my cock against her belly because she stiffens in my arms, wariness creeping into her scent. She doesn’t pull away, but she is definitely alert and I can feel her attention trained on me… waiting to see what I will do. I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts from the dark haze of lust filling my head. I want to crush her to me to take advantage of the friction of our bodies shifting against each other with every beat of Drisk’s wings. It would be far too easy to impale her on my cock and let her rock on it in rhythm with the wyvern’s movement beneath us.

I bow my head and clench my jaw. It does little to help me as it just brings my head closer to her sweet scent, but I can hang onto sanity even if it is by threads until the darkness gradually retreats just as the Fang Peaks rise into the heavens before us.Cold Fang wyverns circling the peaks bellow their greeting at our approach, and Drisk replies in a long shriek in kind, relaying our good fortune. The trumpet of the wyverns is ear piercing, so much so that even I wince. For this reason, I am not surprised when I feel the female jerk hard against me, her startled gasp filling the air between us. Flattening my hand against her back, I strive to share my warmth and the security of my presence through the simple touch. Though I seldom speak to anyone but Drisk, I lower my mouth to her ear.

“Be calm. They are welcoming you,” I rumble in a low voice.

She stills at the sound of my voice, her head tipping slightly toward my mouth. Her hair tickles the bridge of my nose above the mask, but she doesn’t seem to be aware of this casual contact between us as she focuses entirely on my words.

“They… are welcoming… me?” she returns quietly.

I rumble in agreement, but it seems unnecessary. She wasn’t truly asking me a question, anyway. Although there is doubt in her tone, the urgency in her voice is recognizably little more than the need to vocally reassure herself and establish the truth of the matter in her own mind. My utterance merely reminds her that I am here, protecting her. Perhaps it reassures both of us because I feel something tight within me unknot as she remains calmly tucked in a manner that seems almost trustingly within the circle of my arms.

She doesn’t speak further, clinging to me silently as the wyverns drop from the peaks to swoop around us in our passing. Her eyes follow their movements, but I cannot tell if it is with interest or with fear… Perhaps a little of both. In either case, she seems to forget some of her fear and my presence almost entirely as she tracks their movement through the sky.

And they do make a spectacular show. The myriad hues of their wings and tails flow together as they dip and weave as they drop gracefully from the peaks. It is truly an awe-inspiringperformance—one that I never took the time to truly appreciate before whenever I hurried back to the peaks in the past. Now, however, I regard it with fresh eyes as my female’s awe draws me deeper into it. The wyverns spin and break apart at the last minute before colliding in perfectly synchronized moves. But suddenly they burst away in all directions, their wings snapping wildly in the air to carry them far from us. They scatter with shrill shrieks, and the immediate cause is easy to see when my eyes fall upon Ajek, leader of the hunt and the prince’s right hand, rising from their midst.

Mounted on his bound wyvern, a black brute of a male, the pair cut through the unbound wyverns mercilessly. I am not surprised. Though he is part of a gathol, Ajek seldom subjects himself to flying with the wyvern and is known to disdain the male. It is to the point that he ignores him altogether and houses him in a lone rookery far from where he resides in the palace. It shocks no one that he possesses little care or consideration for the gathols or the clan’s wyverns. He only cares about one thing: domination over those of the gathol. From above his flight mask, his eyes narrow on me, and he signs for me to land immediately. I gnash my teeth in frustration at the order, but I do not dare disobey. Not this time, when I have too much to lose. I expected this—but hoped for at least some time to secure my mate in my rookery first. Let him try heavy handed orders afterward and see how well he fares. It shall not be any better than before. He knows he has him, however. I can see the smug look in his eyes before his wyvern peels away to drop once more into the shelter of the Fang Peaks.

“Follow him,” I grumble to Drisk, and the male makes a disparaging sound in response that I silently agree with.

“What’s going on?” my female asks, but I brush a hand down her back and clamp her firmly against me when she attempts to turn in her seat to follow the other male’s path with her eyes.

“We are descending,” I reply crossly in her odd human speech. “Hold tight.”

Her blue eyes shift to me in shock, but she says nothing in reply, and I’m treated to the beauty of her red curls catching the air as we drop with not even a cry from my brave mate.

Drisk’s wings fold and fan as he maneuvers the twisting labyrinth between the peaks at a high speed, but when we crest above the village, it is a scene of beauty. The sun brings the village to life in an array of jewels, the stone palace and rookeries carved into the mountainside even grander with the prismatic shimmer of the ice clinging to them as they tower above the common buildings and the comfortable homes of those families consummated without a wyvern’s claim and bond. Despite all the ice and snow, it is the cheerful glow of the fires placed strategically throughout the village that awakens the warm spirit of the people as the clan comes to greet the returning gathol.

Not me, however. I am abundantly aware that I am not the only one making an approach and it is for the other males that the members of the clan are emerging. I do not even glance their way when Drisk lands and I drop the short distance from his shoulders to the packed snow and stone with my female clasped tightly in my arms. As expected, Ajek is waiting for me, his arms crossed against his black armor. His gaze drifts to my mate, his brows furrowing heavily before shifting to Drisk. Ajek jerks his head toward the rookeries in annoyance.

“You know that the wyverns are not permitted amid the common areas. Send him to the rookeries to wait for you.”

I frown at the order and gently set my female’s feet on the ground, though I am a little gladdened that she continues to cling to me as she stares reproachfully at the male glowering at us.

“I will get our female settled first…” I begin, but he cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head.

“She will remain here. The prince is displeased by your actions, and so it will need to be weighed and taken into consideration for what will happen from here.”

I bristle as I peer back at him. “I have done nothing that has not been done many times by those of the Cold Fang clan,” I snarl.

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