Page 17 of Klauth
The desire to shift hums through my body, but my dragon resists. My ancient bones feel fused to this form, reluctant to abandon the might of my dragonic shape. I can hear Mina’s heartbeat quicken—steady, yet tinted with anticipation. The rhythmic pulse is louder to my keen ears than the faint rustling of leaves blown by the nighttime wind.
I stare at her small human form. She’s so delicate and yet so fearless, standing against the rubble. The moonlight casting silver along the edges of her horns. I want to feel that warmth against me. I want to protect her always.
Eventually, my dragon relents. Shifting back is an odd sensation, bones contracting and muscles rearranging beneath my skin. A crackling heat dances along my spine as scales fold away, revealing pale flesh. The night air feels colder on this skin—like a thousand needles pricking at my human form. I straighten, shaking off the lingering heaviness in my limbs.
My gaze drifts across what’s left of the battlements—broken stones stand as silent witnesses to a past life. The once-grand corridors are nothing but dark silhouettes against the moonlight. The temple of Bahamut remains untouched in the distance, a silver spire of hope amid the gloom. The academy stands nearby, its lights flickering like fireflies in the night.
Mina waits, patient and trusting. She looks so small and yet so fierce: flawless skin glowing in the moon’s gentle rays, hair like emerald silk threaded with liquid silver. Her horns curve with a regal splendor, reminiscent of the iron dragons of old—magnificent even in her human form.
My heart—now wholly human—pounds furiously in my chest, a primal echo of my dragon’s roar. I’ve seen the most breathtaking views of the ocean under a moonlit sky. But nothing compares to the sight of Mina: determined, brave, and illuminated by starlight.
“Mate…” The word rasps in my throat, my voice thick from centuries of disuse.
She blinks up at me, and I’m snared by those golden eyes. Her trembling hands lift toward my face, each finger a soft brush against my temples before drifting down to cup my cheeks. My breath catches; tears threaten to fill my eyes as the gravity of this moment sinks in. Her trust is a tangible thing, pulsing between us like a heartbeat.
“Mate.” Her voice is a whisper that my dragon echoes in a triumphant roar deep within me.
I don’t hesitate. I lean down, scooping her into my arms, the coolness of her body so vivid against my heated skin. She wraps her slender arms around my neck, tears shining in her eyes like liquid moonlight. Then she kisses me—light as a breeze at first, but filled with longing.
I pull back gently, thumbs brushing the tears away from her cheeks.My mate.At long last, I have my mate in my arms. I trace my gaze along her features as though memorizing them for eternity. “Why do you cry, mate?” I can’t help but rub my cheek against hers, inhaling her calming scent, letting a soft purr rumble in my chest.
“I’m happy,” she murmurs, voice trembling with relief. “Happy the books were wrong. They all said you would more than likely kill me.”
I taste bitterness on my tongue at the memory of that mage’s curse. He vowed to paint me as a monster for all time, and apparently he succeeded. My vision flickers between dragon-slit eyes and human irises, fury, and sorrow mingling like a sour ache in my chest.
“Yet you came anyway,” I say, my voice low. My fingers thread through her hair, marveling at its silky thickness. I let my touch travel to her impressive silver horns, feeling the faint ridges that speak of her dragon’s power.
“You saved me,” she whispers, fingers curling in my hair. My breath stutters at the gentle contact, a low purr escaping my throat. “If you were going to kill me, you could have just breathed fire on me when you flew overhead.”
“That is true…” I murmur, leaning in to brush my lips along her jaw. Her skin is so warm, and the moment my teeth sharpen, my dragon stirs, urging me onward. A shiver of exhilaration courses through me as I graze her throat. She tilts her head, baring it in offering, and my purr becomes a deep roar vibrating through my chest.
I bite down. My canines sink into her flesh, and her hot, copper-sweet blood fills my mouth. A sudden surge of power thrums through me, as if our bond is a living, breathing force sparking against my every nerve. Slowly, I withdraw, licking at the wound to seal and soothe it. My mark, bold and undeniable, overlaps any that came before.
Mina giggles softly, her exhalation feathering across my cheek. The sound lights me up from within. I draw her close again, unable to stop myself from nuzzling her shoulder, inhaling her scent like a lifeline.
“Where should I bite you?” Her voice trembles with both curiosity and hesitation.
“On the same side I marked you,” I respond, bowing my head and shifting to give her space. Her warm breath skates over my skin, drawing goose bumps along my arms. Then comes the first brush of her lips, swiftly followed by the sharper sting of her teeth breaking through my flesh.
The bond ignites in me like a sunrise after a long, cold night—spreading warmth through every corner of my being, anchoring me to her soul. My blood courses with power, and I sense hers merging with mine, forging an unbreakable link.
When she finally pulls back, I remain still, arms around her, my breath ragged. I feel the pulsating connection that ties me to this brave little dragoness. The distant crash of the sea and the whisper of the wind through the crumbling stones fade into nothing. All I can hear is the frantic drum of our hearts—beating in unison, at last, as mates.
I soarthrough the sky alongside Mina, the wind whipping across my scaled cheeks and rushing into my nostrils, sharp with the high-altitude chill. The mating flight is everything I ever wish for and more—thrilling, raw, and electric with the bond we share. My wing muscles burn pleasantly as I slow my powerful strokes to match her pace. Flecks of golden sunlight reflect off her dragoness scales, making her shimmer like living fire.
She shows me the modest beginnings of her nest, the earthy smell of freshly upturned soil and stone still clinging to my nostrils. In truth, it’s a thousand times better than what Syrax once dug for herself—Mina’s den already holds warmth and a sense of belonging. Yet, there’s so much more an older, more powerful drake like me can do to make a safe haven for my mate. I’ll wait to offer my improvements until our bond is stronger; there will be plenty of time for that.
By necessity—and to keep my “resurrection,” so to speak, a secret—I allow Mina to carry me back toward her home. Clinging to her ridged back, I run my hand over her scales, feeling their hardened edges, sharp as blades under my palms. The world below has transformed so dramatically since I was last free.
As we approach the academy grounds, I spot numerous structures—tall and proud. My father drew these designs long ago, and now they stand as testament to our shared dreams. There’s the faint echo of voices drifting up from below, and the scent of cooking fires lingers on the breeze. Mina circles Malivore several times before landing in a swirl of dust and leaves.
The moment my feet meet the soil, I feel the cool, damp earth beneath my boots. Mina shifts back and takes my hand. Her skin is warm, and the subtle press of her fingers against mine sparks our bond. We move through the main doors into Malivore, my gaze roving over polished stone floors and torch-lit corridors. The hallway air tastes faintly of scented wax and old parchment, like the knowledge of centuries saturates these walls.
Her nerves flutter through our bond. She’s worried—maybe about my reaction to her nest mates, or their reaction to me. The corridor feels almost too quiet aside from our footsteps echoing off the stone.
Outside her door, I see her hand hesitate near the knob. I rest my palm on the small of her back, feeling the slight tremor of tension in her spine. I hope my warmth conveys reassurance. When she finally opens the door, her scent washes over me—musky, spicy, undeniably hers. She’s claimed this place; it smells of her power and presence.
Five males stand around what appears to be a marble table, cups in hand. A faint aroma of something bitter—perhaps coffee or a brew—hangs in the air. Mina steps back, her shoulder blades pressing into my chest. I feel her breath hitch, and the subtle shift of muscles as she leans into my strength. Her dragoness is acknowledging me as the strongest drake, seeking comfort in our bond.
