Page 43 of The Wrath of Ashes
“Something like that. Asha’d be proud of me.” She gave him one of those toothy grins that didn’t meet her eyes.
“And you’re comfortable around dragons, are you?” Rath tented his fingers and clacked his nails ever so threateningly.
“Nope. ’E’s the only reason I’d show up and to within a mile of anywhere a dragon haunts.” Lyss’s face twisted slightly, that hard edge full of all the truth Rath needed.
“And why should I allow you to see him? What makes you think he’s still alive?”
Lyss eyed Rath up and down with a calculative sweep. “Because I’ve seen ’is arse,and’e’s a virgin. Or was, at any rate. No dragon could pass that up. Sweet little human, innocent and untouched.”
Rath, usually so schooled in his expression, fought a choke as his brows shot straight up. “Asha is not human. He is Ashen. A human-born dragon.”
“Is he still fine as silver?” That had Lyss’s attention as her gaze widened.
“Now, knowing that he’s a dragon, does that bother you?”
“Still Asha, ain’t ’e?” She sniffed indignantly.
“One supposes.”
“Then my opinion of ’im ain’t changed one bit.” Lyss leaned back and crossed her legs, the stained hem of her skirts rising over grimy skin. Rath shuddered to think of her touching his fineries. He shuddered to think of sitting there much longer. She smelled every bit like her story.
“I see. Do me a favor. Asha has been somewhat glib over what he endured with Earl Tippen. Tell me what you know.” Rath breathed through his mouth to avoid the scent, much stronger to his draconic senses.
“I wasn’t there for every beating, but it was a fortnightly event. I washed his back after the scourging. I sewed his cuts closed, set his arm a few times. Did he have a pocket full of silver beads when you took him?” Lyss furrowed her brow and shook her head.
“He did. It was a considerable handful. Yes.”
“Every few times he got strapped, the earl broke the scourge on him, and he stole a few of the beads. That’s how often he got torn apart.” Lyss bunched her skirts in her fists, knuckles turning white. “Half the girls had plans on poisoning the bastard if we didn’t think his sons would be worse—Asha excluded.”
“Asha’s not his son. He was Countess Wyverncrest’s. With her first husband, a Ramolian prince.” Rath tamped down his rage and stood to full height. A plan unfurled in his mind. “If I were to pay the earl a visit, need I make sure the sons do not step up in his name?”
Lyss’s face hardened. “Do as you please. They didn’t lay hands on Asha, but they certainly didn’t keep them off me.”
Rath swallowed his disgust over the woman being a family’s plaything of that manner and made up his mind. “Nadi. See to it she’s bathed and clothed. I’ll have Asha meet her in his quarters when she’s ready.”
Pure relief melted over Lyss’s face as Nadi bowed ever so slightly and rushed off. If he had his way, Lyss need never lift her skirts again as payment for the kindness to his mate.
Rath schooled his emotions and took a few deep breaths, unable to hold back the scales that pricked at his arms. Rage fueled his soul like nothing else, but one thing could calm him—the reason why dragons needed their bedservants. A placebo for the soul, a balm to hold back the dragon’s instincts. And for Rath, that would be Asha.
He wasn’t in his quarters when Rath arrived, nor in Slath’s, but found him fairly quickly by drive alone, aimlessly wandering until he found his mate hunched over a tome, eyes stressed from lack of blinking. A quick glance told Rath the subject was their transformation.He’s curious.
Rath didn’t announce his presence, but rather effortlessly slid up behind him and trailed a single hand over his shoulder.
He tensed at first but relaxed, his scales prickling as if he recognized Rath’s presence. A slender, pale hand reached for Rath’s, the pearlescent hue of his scales glinting, not as strongly pronounced as Rath’s, a good indicator of his mood. “I don’t see any information on it. Will I know how to fly or not? Will I be myself or a dragon? Will it hurt? All this seems to be written for people who know the rules already.” Asha slammed the book shut with a cloud of dust.
“I think it feels awkward, tight and itchy for a minute. Flying is innate, and you will be you—but your instincts will be stronger. We rely on human blood to tame our monstrous sides, and that human blood is much less significant in our greater forms.” Rath leaned down to rest his cheek against one of Asha’s gleaming horns. Freshly polished and unmarred from battle or scuffles. Rath’s own had a myriad of sins he’d had to buff out over time.
“That’s what Slath said, but I never can be sure. It feels like everyone wants to protect me.” Asha ran an opalescent nail down the side of the leather-covered book.
“Do not mistake our care for lies or obfuscation. I am as honest as possible. The sleep is the worst of it for most, but you seemed indifferent to it.” Rath pressed a kiss to the top of Asha’s head, inhaling his scent deeply. The draconic nature in him rose to the surface and purred, the vibration making Asha lean into it and hum with pleasure.Damn it to the gods, he’s tempting.“But keep me on topic, my mate. I have the first of your wedding gifts prepared.”
“You have my jacket?” Asha lit up, his eyes wide, and Rath would embroider a dozen more if it would make him delight that much again.
“Not quite yet. I have something far better.” Rath held his hand and brought it to his mouth for a chaste kiss. “Now go to your quarters after your afternoon tea. And if you do not wishto keep your gift? We can always make other arrangements. I suppose disposal is an option, too. Inform Nadi and Jeron of what you desire.”
Asha nodded slowly and gave Rath a curious gaze, uncertainty rife within him. With a soft hum, Rath rubbed Asha’s hand to his cheek, their scales so soft against one another.
“You’re scaly—more scaly. Scalier?” Asha rubbed his hand back and frowned. “Are you upset with me? I apologize if I do not seem grateful.”
