Page 63 of Whisper Woods

Rafe stares, his jaw dropped in shock at my enthusiasm. Brydon has no chill, failing at hiding a laugh on the other side of the long table.

Placing both hands on the table, I lean over the platters of food to Rafe at the head seat. “Dragons, Rafe. Dragons. Now. Comeon.”

My excitement bubbles over–I’m unable to contain it. Fuckingdragons. No one has ever seen them before. Well, I guess these two have, and I saw them when we crossed the borders. But that was different. It wasn’t up close or anything. There’s been stories and rumours and legends for centuries. And now I get to see one forreal? Fuck yeah! Sign me up.

He blinks a couple of times before smiling indulgently. “Dragons it is then. Then a tour of Tathys?” He looks at Brydon, and then back to me.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan. Let’s do this.” I clap my hands together then shoot finger guns at them. Brydon snorts out a laugh, and Rafe huffs out a laugh, too. I think I can even hear Sed from the hallway where the staff apparently wait while we eat.

***

Rafe is back in his dragonkin scales and I am trying, really fucking trying, to not get hard while I watch him cautiously approach the giant fucking dragon. Something about being hard while around them feels extra dangerous orantagonistic or something. But the extra adrenaline from the situation isn’t helping.

Brydon is hanging back with me. Partially to protect me if things go sideways, but also to help the dragons understand that I’m not a threat. There are about twenty dragons lounging on the grasslands. Roughly the size of a two story suburban house, they are beautiful and vividly bright in the otherwise dull landscape of the grassy expanse.

There are other dragons in the colony, they explained when we arrived. While Estella came close to the border to meet us, there are another two dozen or so full size adult dragons on the field, with another thirty or so again on the cliff side and down on the beach below.

Brydon and Rafe explained a lot on my way here, telling me all about the crops we passed on the way and how they are used here in Tathys, and how they are traded in the Mundane. Sometimes less than legally.

“He’s safe, right?” I lean down to Brydon, who’s also watching Rafe approach the giant ass dragon like it’s no big deal.

“Eh,” Brydon shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Safe enough. We’re used to what happens. The pups can be dangerous; they don’t know how to control their fire.”

As if on cue, there is a blast to our right, where a handful of the brightly coloured dragon babies—the size of small SUVs—are roughhousing.

“That happens alot. And you don’t want to get too close to nesting mothers. The bulls can be dicks, too. But apart from all that, it’s safe enough for us, you know?”

I look sideways at him, not at all reassured. “Yeah, super safe. Just like juggling knives blind folded on a unicycle. So safe.”

Brydon laughs his snorty laugh and hits me with his elbow.

“Trust me. Rafe’sfine.”

He’s currently scratching the red and yellow dragon’s neck while the beast's tail whips the air happily. Wolf is even less reassured than I am. The shithead’s currently a whimpering mess, unsure whether he wants to bolt or roll over and play dead. Or just play. He’s a simple beast, but he’s also a confused one.

“So, how did you meet Rafe?”

Rafe leaves the dragon, Estella, to pat another. While he does, I can see him inspecting the beast's hind legs and claws.

“Uh,” I scrape a hand through my hair, wishing I had my cap to fidget with. I feel more naked without it than when I’m actually naked. “We ran into each other in the Woods a few years back. Then it kept happening by chance. We got to know each other.”

Brydon stares at me, hard and unblinking. I can feel it on my cheek and I scratch my slightly too long stubble to diffuse the feeling. His tail scrapes the ground as it sways. “And then there was the prophecy, and you two ran into each other at Slash.”

“Prophecy?” The word has been thrown around so much recently I had trouble keeping track of them all. But Brydon waves me off.

“Don’t worry.” He looks back out at Rafe, a look of concentration on his face like he’s doing complex maths. Rafe has moved on to three dragon babies, patting and baby talking them like they aren’t potentially murderous beasts. “So, tell me about Slash. Do you go there a lot? What’s it like?”

I try my best to describe the club. It’s hard at first until I stumble on some references Brydon understands. He has a strange half understanding of the Mundane. It’s been pulled together from what Rafe has brought back for him. Some of his references are decades old, others are brand new. But we get through it. And then one tangent leads to another, and he’s asking a million questions I do my best to answer. By the time Rafe makes his way back to us, we’re making plans for Brydon to get my phone charged up so he can listen to my playlists and I’m making a mental list of tv shows to download and show him.

Though with this whole reunification thing, maybe he won’t need it. He could go and find it all for himself. Wild.

“Are you two milkmaids done gossiping?” Rafe growls as he approaches, his voice deeper and richer than when human-looking.

“Seff was just telling me that he knows a strip club back home that he’s gonna take me to. Said he’d pay for all the lap dances I want.” He slaps his arm around my shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, but he pulls me in for a side hug.

Rafe’s eyes narrow on where Brydon’s hand is touching the bare skin on myshoulder. With his usually graceful movements enhanced, he plucks Brydon’s hand off me.

“Hmm, sounds interesting.” He puts his hand where Brydon’s was, the pads of his fingers massaging possessively. And carefully. “Want to pat a dragon?”

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