Page 55 of The Wrath of Ashes
He hoped many would.
His gaze settled ahead, to the center of the courtyard, where his mate stood in anxious rigidity. His shoulders, pinched and tight, flinched almost when he looked upon Asha. “You’re so very handsome, you know?”
He barely mouthed the words, but the piercing blush that struck Asha’s cheeks made it clear he understood. Those pale eyes of his widened with anxiousness, and Rath preened at the silver bands still adorning his horns. And when he neared Asha, a reply came in the form of a shaking whisper. “You are quite handsome, yourself.”
“You please me.” Rath pulled from his pocket the bands and chain forged from a link of his own gold and his captors’ signets.
With the aid of Jeron who stood at the ready nearby, Rath took a small tool and reached for Asha’s horns.
It wasn’t intuitive. Rath had seen it done to his brothers, had it done to himself, and had the privilege of presenting the tool to others who had their bands set before. “I apologize if it’s uncomfortable at first. It will ease after your first shift.”
Asha nodded, bowing his head before Rath in a graceful sweep, his silken hair a spill of honeyed fire.
His horns gleamed in a way only the newly grown could, pearlescent and every bit as gorgeous as the bearers of dragonkind should be.
It started with the slight jangle of chains and the rattle of a band sliding neatly into place against the silver already on his horns and ended with a click. Rath held a tool that resembled a hammer with a hollow center that fit over Asha’s spikes. After fitting each ring, he slipped the tool over, tapped lightly a few times, evenly racking each band into place, sealing the silver with it. It’d always be a piece of him. Asha winced a few times and glanced around, trying to see them.
After removing the tool, Rath lifted the chain and handed the band hammer back to Jeron where he presented and installed Asha’s first set of chains. There would be more over time, more links, more strands. Rath’s own were a rather understated set, thicker than Asha’s as he had them made thicker over time rather than doubling them up. He liked the denser clank, but the subtle one suited Asha as he lifted his head and caught the waning light on his cheekbones, highlighting the barest hint of bronze freckles hiding beneath his already golden-tinged skin. A sheen of his underlying scales lit across his skin, and the pearlescent array drew Rath in with a near predatory growl. “I recognize you as my mate before all who gathered here today. You, Asha, born of the high house Wyverncrest and the direct line of Ramolia, are my fated, my love, and my always. Will you do me the honor before house and home of becoming my consort and taking your first flight with me?”
“I will.” Asha’s face lit from within, his cheeks pink and flush with something more than excitement.
Unable to resist, Rath leaned in, inhaling deeply as the scent of arousal and want ensnared him. Wrapped in the jacket that Rath had embroidered himself, he embodied everything imaginable. He was perfect.
They stepped into one another, leaning in for a kiss that felt so much better than their first, second, or any other they’d stolen since their first. Better even than when they’d shared the bath and Asha had gone through his first metamorphosis. Their tongues glided, lips slid. The breath they shared heated, and contained the spark of fire that would start the end.
With an almost-graceful touch, Asha palmed Rath’s hand and brought it to his chest, grasping there for comfort. The innocence of it touched Rath with its simplicity. A soft whimper escaped Asha’s lips a moment before the prick of fang alerted Rath to what he’d avoided—further change.
As if he knew and accepted, Asha allowed Rath to take his new jacket, the threading of which bore all of Rath’s tedious work. The flowers he’d embroidered would be his pride and joy for a long while, until he did something more generous for him.
From there, Asha shed his tunic, shirtless before onlookers who Rath wouldn’t bear to look at for fear of missing a moment of his mate’s birth into his new form. “Asha, do you know what is happening?”
Rath traced the clawed tips of his fingers down a bare arm before disrobing, stripping to his undergarments as Jeron flitted by wordlessly, taking their garments while Asha stepped out of his trousers, the lacing draping over Jeron’s careful grasp.
“I know enough. Kensing said what would happen. Jeron prepared me.” The color in his cheeks deepened, the crimson giving Rath a moment’s hesitation. He glanced up toward the sky to catch the barest shadow of the moon’s white whisper peeking through the blooming bruise of sunset.
“By moon and medicine, you have made your promise. Do you still wish for it?” Rath’s gaze raked Asha’s body before locking in on his rapidly dilating eyes.
“By the very blood in my veins that makes my heart tremble so, I wish for it more than anything.” Asha’s breath shuddered,his chest rising and falling faster as his pearlescent tail writhed with childlike anxiety. His inability to control it as of then made it all the more endearing to Rath.
“Breathe deeply, envision fire, and share mine,” Rath whispered into Asha’s ear.
As he drew back, their mouths brushed, and Rath wasted no time in deepening a kiss and feeding him as much fire as his human body could muster.
It started with a glimmer of scales along Asha’s arms, spreading to his shoulders and neck, fingers lengthening as his tail thrashed. Rath whipped his tail around to ensnare Asha’s, pulling them together as the ripping of undergarments heralded the tightening of his own. Human garments were not meant for dragons, after all. Threads snapped, and Asha’s hair whipped about in a nonexistent breeze until they drew apart with gasping breaths, fire flickering between them.
Asha opened his mouth to say something, the words choking in his throat. “I f—feel…”
Rath knew the words would never come or finish, his body in a fine state between man and beast, morphing and growing with a twist, wings bursting free. He was every bit the dragon Rath envisioned; pearlescent scales a hair’s breath from opals glittered in near-diamond patterns down a lithe body. Not the hulking beast of Rath’s own dragon but vulpine in grace. Feline in stature. The great shape of him shook out like the aforementioned creatures, shivering away a drizzle of water. A long, graceful neck lifted and leaned in, the heat of it brushing along Rath’s, scales rasping. “F-finally.”
Rath rumbled in pleasure, the noise breaking into a growl and bugle of a cry that shook the air around them. The echoes of it rang to the peaks nearby, snow sliding down in a grand sweep of an avalanche. The reciprocating thunder heralded Asha’s first roar.
A mane like fire whipped about his head as great pearlescent horns swept back.
“Breathe, my mate. Let us see your fire, Ashen.” Rath’s growl shook the stone they stood upon with a concerning rumble.
So, Asha did. He threw his head back, mouth agape, and from his throat, he blew purest fire, the red of wrath, such a beautiful sweep of crimson curl that Rath couldn’t help but join his fire in the melding of two flames blooming like a short-lived flower. There in an instant, ephemeral and gone.
Fire united, now one and whole, their display was met by fire like ice, like molten metal, of wind and the sky’s own fire. Dragons of all elements, his brothers and others alike, their prayers something more than a blessing—thankfulness. Joy.
